#Flames of Paradise

let's go.... we're set for d journey

ok bring it on. its going to be sweet story

@onahsunday631 pls help me with d register

Episode 1 Snigdha twirled the letter between her fingers once, before reading it yet again. She had already done it thrice but to be sure of its contents she unfolded the thin sheet and spread it in her lap. Her eyes went through each syllable, each word carefully. There was no doubt about its message, She had been waiting for a letter from Triple Eye Communications (TEC) for so long that she had lost all hope of getting a positive one. Snigdha being a scriptwriter and a trained cinematographer had not bargained for such a plum offer as this one to fall on her lap. She had submitted the proposal to make a two-hour Docu-Drama after getting a feeler from her old pal Nitin, who was Co-Director, Triple Eye. Hence, she had submitted the proposal as a ‘Director and Writer’ after Nitin had told her that Triple Eye was looking for some proposals on Terrorism in Kashmir. She had spent months on the research and the script of her concept and had submitted it to them feeling slightly nervous. And now being offered to produce and direct the entire film was too much to digest. Yesterday Nitin had called her to congratulate her for her excellent script and assured her that Triple Eye team was very impressed with the concept and had something big coming her way but she still hadn’t understood the hidden meaning under his jubilant note that they were funding the whole project with Snigdha as the Director of the beautifully written Docu-Drama.... To be continued

@pixzybee thats so nice of you...Another story don land @orevastar5 @frankkay @victoriouschild @fridex @macrex @adauche @peacebright

Seems it wl b very interesting

(cont'd) Snigdha let out a wavering sigh and slid into a well-cushioned arm chair to think about her gradual growth in television. Snigdha, 28, had got her training from the prestigious Film and Television Institute of India, Pune where she had specialized as a Cinematographer, two years back. Since then, she had been working as a freelancer, conceptualising and making documentaries for some NGOs and organizations that had some meagre funds for such projects. Last year one of her films on witchcraft in remote villages of Chhattisgarh had been awarded in the Mumbai International Film Festival. Snigdha had been showered with accolades and appreciation and she suddenly felt her ambition soar and take her to a new flight of fantasy to become one of the most sought-after documentary film-maker in her country. Soon after, her documentary was chosen by the most popular national TV channel for telecast and she felt an ambition to produce a film on the burgeoning terrorism in the paradise land of Kashmir take shape in her heart. And thus started her journey to read about thousands of innocents killed in the beautiful lap of nature…her research took her in the hearts and minds of the devious terrorists who once upon a time lived a normal life. After meeting experts and some imprisoned terrorists, her study produced an emotional saga called, ‘Flames of Paradise’, a story of a few terrorists who in the name of Jihad, have been on a killing spree, tarnishing the image of nearly all the Muslims around the globe.

Brinq it on @pixzybee, but b4 u do so hope dis story is well fried to my taste??? If not PAUSE it now and put more of my favourite maqqi in it b4 u continue...else whtever u post now will be used aqainst u by the qods. No sey I no tell u o . . @froshberry-2, am in... Tanks 4 d IV

funny @fridex nice start let's go dere ... next pls @froshberry-2 tanks for dey iv

lol@fridex

Seated & Following..

9ce next!

nice start...ride on....pls mention me in d next epi

Good for a start

nyc start @pixzybee....jst as @fridex has said make sure d food z well cooked nd test great if not i wont it....bt i trust u sha cos i knw my swthrt z a good cook @pixzybee dear.

My brother from another mother, @frankkay nah ur face??? Why did u abandon me after u don teach me how to be funy??? It's not fair o . . @pixzybee, I sure mean it so never lauqh out loud yet o

Nice start..i came late bt i must ave a place to seat at front.. Abi @frankkay no seat for me there?

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@fridex my bro no be my fault o na buhari course am o @onahsunday631 sure ur sit has been reserved for u .....

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In for this.... But babe dont stop half way.

heeey .,....abeg wu carry my seat....make d person return am o....cant wait start enjoy vhix story wid my 1 dozen of dark rum for one side..... Writer abeg ride on jare put am for gear....standin dey for brt bus...no worry i go hang like conductor... Oya gbewalo

@frankkay eyaa no vex, I no know sey that CHANGE wey dem dey talk about don finally reach ur side too o

nice one

but no prb @fridex soon I will overthrow buhari Mr kworuption...

but no prb @fridex soon I will overthrow buhari Mr kworuption...and become President

@froshberry-2 thanks for the invitation

Episode 2 She had worked hard with the script, keeping enough scope for her innovative cinematographic techniques to weave a poetry in images and sound on the breathtakingly beautiful Kashmir, its lush greenery, its vibrant golden sunsets and its lovely people. Snigdha had first visited Kashmir as a teenager when her father was posted in the army at various places including Kargil. The family was only allowed to visit once or twice a year because of the perils lurking in various corners of the valley. She remembered the velvet greens of the valley, the lush plum and apple trees, the riot of colours here and there, the shimmering lakes and the beautiful people. Later during her research, she visited Srinagar once to meet some of her research sources like a few journalists and social activists working actively in Kashmir. Time was near when she would be able to complete her dream of capturing the beauty of Kashmir through her film. She got up swiftly, toppling the brass urn kept on the walnut stool her elder sister had brought for her from Darjeeling. She couldn’t believe it! She really had not expected the whole project to be hers. She would need to slog like mad. She wanted to share it with someone. Who? Dimple? Yes! She punched her friend Dimple’s number on her old, faded cellphone. Would she be home? She dialled her cell number instead and was glad that she picked it up. Dimple was a freelance Voice Over Artist lately also dabbling in anchoring and Emceeing live shows. Dimple agreed to come. Being the gossip-monger she was, she would indeed be excited by the very fact that Snigdha had some news! She lived in a two-storied house with her parents, just four blocks away from Snigdha’s neat, planned South Delhi Flat left to her by her parents who had recently settled at a hill station in central India. Snigdha and Dimple were close friends since her junior school days where their fathers were neighbours in Bhopal. Dimple was a complete opposite of Snigdha. A very fair, fuzzy haired, hazel eyed, not very tall, petite beauty whereas Snigdha was fairly tall at her 5 feet 7 inches height, slender, with honey brown complexion and big dark eyes, her arched eyebrows and an uptilted nose giving a very unconventional touch to her typically Indian looks. The best feature in her face was by far her full, wide smiling lips, with a slight sensual pout giving her face an uncanny glamour. Her long silky tresses fell much below her waist and were usually ruthlessly tied in a pony tail. Her stubborn chin and proud tilt of the head made her look

Hmmm...enjoying this

go on

(cont'd) untouchable,unreachable to most of the lascivious colleagues in the industry. Snigdha unaware of her beauty was an unpretentious girl, wearing anything and everything decent available in the market which once again made her carelessly elegant in anything she chose to wear. Usually, it was T-shirts and long kurtis teemed with comfortable denims, sometimes frayed at the ends, sometimes skin hugging. Sometimes, her innate Indianness prompted her to don a silky, flowy sari, which made her look most enchanting with her lissom, and tall figure and long tresses. Dimple on the other hand was very choosy about what she wore and was usually encased in chic and stylish dresses, skirts and trousers, nearly always belying her short height by the precariously high heels she always wore. Their basic nature differed too. Dimple was constantly looking for a life-partner and excelled in attracting the most eligible bachelors wherever she went. Her slanting mischievous eyes and fluttering lashes flashed messages which attracted handsome hunks like bees to honey but their hopes crashed hopelessly by her instant rejection. Dimple wanted a man with wealth, looks and brains all rolled into one. Her attempts so far had been unsuccessful. On top of it all, she was also a die-hard matchmaker and her present target was Snigdha. Snigdha not exactly an introvert, was a slightly reserved person, forthright and determined never to marry, atleast not in the near future, her eyes firmly fixed on her career. Snigdha did not want to think about that part of her long forgotten past. It brought on a deluge of bitter, painful memories and reminded her of her own foolishness. It had taken her years to come out of the nightmarish memories, and sleepless nights. And she was not prepared to mar her present euphoria with any negativity of her past. Snigdha’s thought process was interrupted by loud hurried knocks on the door. Opening the door, she found her friend, who grabbed her hand before entering with a gleam in her eyes, inside her neat, aesthetically-decorated flat. Snigdha noticed with a smile that Dimple had got shiny electric blue streaks done in her frizzy brown locks. That was her friend Dimple. Always funky and experimental with her style statement. ‘Sidhi, what’s up girl?’ Dimple always used her pet name. Why don’t you put your sweet bottom on that chair sweetheart. The news which I’m gonna give you concerns you too! But before that, how about a hot cup of tea first?’ To be continued....

@classicdude{froshberry} @fridex @onahsunday631 @Frankkay ™™baddo™™ new episode is here

thank God say I no really miss ooo Already seated .. bring it on

. New Epi z here quyz. General Register; @Tenniebenson @Khola46 @Wiseman @Ibrams @Pizzaro @Swtharyomi @Wyse-one @Eddy @Delight @Pweety @Mray @Jummybabe @Babe4biola @Sofia @Ritagold @Kuks @Originalannchilexdel @Fridex @Frank @Frankkay @Simzy @Pheranmmie041 @Temmyjoy @Chriswayne @Evanz @Itzshaxee @Mecuze @Skookum @Kingson1 @Donmikie @Kingsbest @T-Dak @Charlywizzy @Charliebryn @Hardeywummy @Japhola @Konphido @Emmyrexx @Adura @Tholartee @Nextangel @Blessedgirl @Ebube @Jenifa @Jclash @Taiwo @Chomyline @Lawman @Tinagabe @Christiana @Itmrabzeez @Johnoscar @Precy @Timmy @Dabcy @Ikeholuwa1 @Besty @Starlet @Okklad @Angeleniola @Ewomazeal @Mizleemah @Blessfelicity222 @Anitcham @Stephanie @Lollybabe1 @Dahcutebae @Rhennyjay @Geeadore @Tiffany1 @Tonia @Hameyeenat @Inemlove @Promzy @Mohjisolah @Jencute @Jenny @Doublewealth @John451 @Kniphemi @Vibratingwind @Emmanesth @Horpheyehmy @Valking1 @Pweety @Kpumpy @Justify @Maurice @Jummy @Thankmic @Christopher @Anita @Phinebraim @Kedike @Kemkit @Gracy @Saintkenz @December12 @Promise @Sylvia @Bsam @Portable @Steph @Aarti @Olaking3 @Harddy @Blakstudd @Prince @Invincible @Mhzzrblayse @Azeeco @Temmymofrosh @Sandra @Sandy @Kaysmart22 @Cherryserah @Sexynikky1994 @Youngestprince @Davick @Semilore @Oyindamola @Dhemilade1 @Mature @Pearl @Roes @Franklin @Kolababs @Hollar @Smilie @Borwerleh @Iksqueency @Loveth @Funmilayo1 @Okklad @Nizzy @Flames @Vict-Vames @Peace @Sirp081 @Kristen @Kingsengine @Aaron @Tony @Ruth @Romancelord @Itzshaxee @Olamy4fun @Abrahamdking @Flamerouz @Crusher @Stanny39 @John @Softtouch @Onahsunday631 @Jeddy @Sonshine @Sirgentle @Vizkid @Hoelhay @Pharm-vickymears @Teesolid @Omoyemmy @Olarach @Daxking @Krizzy @Softie @Holarbordah @Ele @Firstladyontop @Obaby @Sergentmax @Mhizdaofot @Ariketemmy @Saraya @Eminem @Laurasteve299 @vickyola @unyo1 @Nkluv @cynthia20 @pricelessangel @reyhanat @wunmi @best98 @rossi @johnudo @adauche @nobu @somisom @gsoul @peacebright @holakizzo @Gambola @Monadisu @Dazzlingangel @Donyas @C-Roderick @Cookey @Isabella1 @Chisomsophia @Mrfabulous @Henry @Mhizzthessy @Millz @Bishops10 @Kreepyink @Olaniyiadeshina @Gracedkyenny @Hardeyhorlar9 @Holaryinkhar @Inemeka @Abevica @Individual @Olami @Beryl @Youngfellow @Humblelion @Natasha9976 @Hartuny @Emergencia @Paula4eva @GiftGodiva @Divatimmy @Finestberyl @Sapiens @Ahmad @Ele1 @Ferdinard @Festoza006 @Sharpzender @Uncleba426 @Paje @Jenny123 @Pemamezi @Detector @Pweetyfizzy @Willingyung @Napster @Greg-billz @Valentinelv @Hayanfeoluwa @Teju1 @Dgreat @Prestigiousfirstlady @Petersandra121 @Jenny1 @Bryten50 @Fallancy @Rosey @Jimmyjab @Oluwanifemi @Arosunshine @Heartbrokekid @Thosiano @Peterox @Iamsmv @Adegunle3gmail-com @Sparkling-2 @Hoyenikky @Maurice @Lizzytee @Zephyr @Mhizterdimex @Ladywen @Holarmidey @Scriptures @Lollycobra @Hardey1292 @Adeblow23 @Slimolayinkastar @Damzybabe @Adeshewa @Softel @Nifemi @Abradek @Beauty74 @Cizzle @Omolarami @Nazysophy1 @Yemitefestus @Omoniyiola @Inifek @Coolbaby @Nheemot @Deejaygrin @Hitiswell @Fynboy @Sirmike @Aminzy @Vicoch @Sunnyklin20Yahoo-com @Psam @Oshio @Shikoleen @Queencoded @Kimmy @Ifeoma1 @Nobleay @Felixharuna11 @Ibktemi99 @Hayzedefoe @Chidex14 @Classy @Omodemilade59 @Rufus @Ladygrasha @Ennylincoln @Kingz1 @Starlord1 @Noskid @Kodedreal @Petermikel @Frankymario @Olatunjitobi @Pweetylizzyqueen @Olutcoded @Sayrah @Tomtim @Missdammy @Latienco @Bimrach @Mubarak @Mubavak @Adeolaajala1234 @Olalekana69 @Dbest @Skulboy @Beautyqueen @Naomacjoyous @Onyinyessica @Drumsaint @Debbi2nice @Jamesgentility @Megatron @Okiripoto02gmail-com @Rahzycute1 @Hangellah46 @Deltavictory @Kay2ty7 @Praisee @Josephjuliet @Xtopher @Richymore @Temmy744 @Mrmorie @Abosmart @Adfaustina595gmail-com @Adetolaadejoke @Whizjay @Anthcunny @Freeday @Ninny @Abasienyene @Henryjay @Horgzy @Abosmart @Omodemilade59 @Judith @Mercykris @Superstar4real @Sanctus4real @Bolaji2308 @Damzybabe @Profeze1 @Horlarjuwhon @Illusion002 @Royzeray @Oluwatosin @Chinenye5404 @Dharmex @Inifek @Pattiejoe7gmail-com @Opinxymenumento @Bobbidi-boo @Gooddysmart3 @Elijezy @Drumsaint @Oshio @Musterfi @Khaleedwr @Addieola @Chinedueze @Praise22 @Mdsodeeq @Sirjerro @Masterbill @Emileagosu @Kabazi95 @Daintyshewa @Klaussimbo @Peoray @Samnolimit @Babswalexyttyahoo-com @Shania55 @Conspirancy @Chinyenorah @Pharouq00 @Saraya @Blazeb @Virtuous @Amibabe @Mrsolace @Ennyshow @Haryormidey @Mzz_teddy @Daddyd @Cassiewells @Omoshalewa @Nheemot @Rukibaby19 @Abbeygirl25 @Serikibazooka1 @Samnolimit @Ugochisunday @Yusfaty @Muffybaba @Micheal1 @Judiee @Certifiedjx @Wumyte @Jokqees @Coolbaby @Victoriouschild @Temmyluv @Oyefestus @Xtremexamxong @Gamanuel @bidex @bright @sommyangel @amazingbaby @deweny @oyeyemiomolola @hormortiyor @angelauche @holusojihormorborlah @everybody come o

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following.. keep it coming dear

Good start

seated

Dimple was rubbing her hands with anticipation and then said, ‘later. First out with the news!’ So Snigdha decided to let the cat out of the bag. ‘Do you remember when I had told you about my new script?’ ‘The one on Kashmir?’ ‘Yeah! Well not on Kashmir per se, but the terrorism in Kashmir valley.’ ‘Comes to the same thing!’ Dimple quipped. ‘Come on Dimple. It’s not the same but I am not going to waste my breath explaining the real picture. Well Nitin had asked me to submit my first copy to Triple Eye Communications. Triple Eye’s productions regularly feature on all leading satellite channels for documentaries like Discovery, Natgeo, BBC, Channel 4, etc. I followed his advice. Do you know what happened? It was not only accepted, but they want to outsource the film to me. I am the official producer/director of my own script, ‘Flames of Paradise’ to be shot and directed by me and my team! I can’t tell you how excited and happy I am.’ ‘But it’s not possible! You are a Cinematographer not a Director. You don’t know a thing about direction! ‘Hullo? I have written the full script myself after doing research for months. And learnt everything about direction during my Masters course at the Film Institute.’ ‘OK OK… I was just pulling your leggie sweety!’ Dimple dimpled and continued, ‘I am so happy for you. But how does it concern me?’ ‘You? Well… I was thinking that the person from whose point of view the story will be told, could be you, I mean the narrator.’ Noticing the stunned surprise on Dimple’s face Snigdha continued, ‘Well if you are not interested, I can…’ Snigdha said tongue in cheek. You idiot! Why didn’t you tell me this before? Of course I will do it. After all where will you get such a ravishing, smart, intelligent…’ ‘OK! Stop blowing your own trumpet! First I have to suggest your name to Nitin, then a screen test will happen and then… ’ ‘Nitin? That high and mighty fella? I can twist him around my little finger anytime. Just give me 15 minutes with him!’ Dimple snapped her fingers. No way! Keep your little finger intact and to yourself. And quit using casting couch techniques! I will talk to him.’ Snigdha said teasingly. ‘Do you fancy him yourself?’ Dimple asked with mock suspicion. ‘Shut up Dimple! When will you ever get serious? Look at this letter! I’ve been invited for a final talk with the production house on Monday. It seems they want the project to start next month. So, now you just have to wait for the green signal from me. Till then polish yourself for the Screen Test! Get your spas and hair dos or whatever you need to do!’ ‘OK… if you say… but I was getting excited to meet Nitin the hunk! He’s so dark and mysterious… !’ Dimple was now smiling wistfully. to be continued

new episode is here @fridex @onahsunday631 pls help with the register

following

. New Epi z here quyz. General Register; @Tenniebenson @Khola46 @Wiseman @Ibrams @Pizzaro @Swtharyomi @Wyse-one @Eddy @Delight @Pweety @Mray @Jummybabe @Babe4biola @Sofia @Ritagold @Kuks @Originalannchilexdel @Fridex @Frank @Frankkay @Simzy @Pheranmmie041 @Temmyjoy @Chriswayne @Evanz @Itzshaxee @Mecuze @Skookum @Kingson1 @Donmikie @Kingsbest @T-Dak @Charlywizzy @Charliebryn @Hardeywummy @Japhola @Konphido @Emmyrexx @Adura @Tholartee @Nextangel @Blessedgirl @Ebube @Jenifa @Jclash @Taiwo @Chomyline @Lawman @Tinagabe @Christiana @Itmrabzeez @Johnoscar @Precy @Timmy @Dabcy @Ikeholuwa1 @Besty @Starlet @Okklad @Angeleniola @Ewomazeal @Mizleemah @Blessfelicity222 @Anitcham @Stephanie @Lollybabe1 @Dahcutebae @Rhennyjay @Geeadore @Tiffany1 @Tonia @Hameyeenat @Inemlove @Promzy @Mohjisolah @Jencute @Jenny @Doublewealth @John451 @Kniphemi @Vibratingwind @Emmanesth @Horpheyehmy @Valking1 @Pweety @Kpumpy @Justify @Maurice @Jummy @Thankmic @Christopher @Anita @Phinebraim @Kedike @Kemkit @Gracy @Saintkenz @December12 @Promise @Sylvia @Bsam @Portable @Steph @Aarti @Olaking3 @Harddy @Blakstudd @Prince @Invincible @Mhzzrblayse @Azeeco @Temmymofrosh @Sandra @Sandy @Kaysmart22 @Cherryserah @Sexynikky1994 @Youngestprince @Davick @Semilore @Oyindamola @Dhemilade1 @Mature @Pearl @Roes @Franklin @Kolababs @Hollar @Smilie @Borwerleh @Iksqueency @Loveth @Funmilayo1 @Okklad @Nizzy @Flames @Vict-Vames @Peace @Sirp081 @Kristen @Kingsengine @Aaron @Tony @Ruth @Romancelord @Itzshaxee @Olamy4fun @Abrahamdking @Flamerouz @Crusher @Stanny39 @John @Softtouch @Onahsunday631 @Jeddy @Sonshine @Sirgentle @Vizkid @Hoelhay @Pharm-vickymears @Teesolid @Omoyemmy @Olarach @Daxking @Krizzy @Softie @Holarbordah @Ele @Firstladyontop @Obaby @Sergentmax @Mhizdaofot @Ariketemmy @Saraya @Eminem @Laurasteve299 @vickyola @unyo1 @Nkluv @cynthia20 @pricelessangel @reyhanat @wunmi @best98 @rossi @johnudo @adauche @nobu @somisom @gsoul @peacebright @holakizzo @Gambola @Monadisu @Dazzlingangel @Donyas @C-Roderick @Cookey @Isabella1 @Chisomsophia @Mrfabulous @Henry @Mhizzthessy @Millz @Bishops10 @Kreepyink @Olaniyiadeshina @Gracedkyenny @Hardeyhorlar9 @Holaryinkhar @Inemeka @Abevica @Individual @Olami @Beryl @Youngfellow @Humblelion @Natasha9976 @Hartuny @Emergencia @Paula4eva @GiftGodiva @Divatimmy @Finestberyl @Sapiens @Ahmad @Ele1 @Ferdinard @Festoza006 @Sharpzender @Uncleba426 @Paje @Jenny123 @Pemamezi @Detector @Pweetyfizzy @Willingyung @Napster @Greg-billz @Valentinelv @Hayanfeoluwa @Teju1 @Dgreat @Prestigiousfirstlady @Petersandra121 @Jenny1 @Bryten50 @Fallancy @Rosey @Jimmyjab @Oluwanifemi @Arosunshine @Heartbrokekid @Thosiano @Peterox @Iamsmv @Adegunle3gmail-com @Sparkling-2 @Hoyenikky @Maurice @Lizzytee @Zephyr @Mhizterdimex @Ladywen @Holarmidey @Scriptures @Lollycobra @Hardey1292 @Adeblow23 @Slimolayinkastar @Damzybabe @Adeshewa @Softel @Nifemi @Abradek @Beauty74 @Cizzle @Omolarami @Nazysophy1 @Yemitefestus @Omoniyiola @Inifek @Coolbaby @Nheemot @Deejaygrin @Hitiswell @Fynboy @Sirmike @Aminzy @Vicoch @Sunnyklin20Yahoo-com @Psam @Oshio @Shikoleen @Queencoded @Kimmy @Ifeoma1 @Nobleay @Felixharuna11 @Ibktemi99 @Hayzedefoe @Chidex14 @Classy @Omodemilade59 @Rufus @Ladygrasha @Ennylincoln @Kingz1 @Starlord1 @Noskid @Kodedreal @Petermikel @Frankymario @Olatunjitobi @Pweetylizzyqueen @Olutcoded @Sayrah @Tomtim @Missdammy @Latienco @Bimrach @Mubarak @Mubavak @Adeolaajala1234 @Olalekana69 @Dbest @Skulboy @Beautyqueen @Naomacjoyous @Onyinyessica @Drumsaint @Debbi2nice @Jamesgentility @Megatron @Okiripoto02gmail-com @Rahzycute1 @Hangellah46 @Deltavictory @Kay2ty7 @Praisee @Josephjuliet @Xtopher @Richymore @Temmy744 @Mrmorie @Abosmart @Adfaustina595gmail-com @Adetolaadejoke @Whizjay @Anthcunny @Freeday @Ninny @Abasienyene @Henryjay @Horgzy @Abosmart @Omodemilade59 @Judith @Mercykris @Superstar4real @Sanctus4real @Bolaji2308 @Damzybabe @Profeze1 @Horlarjuwhon @Illusion002 @Royzeray @Oluwatosin @Chinenye5404 @Dharmex @Inifek @Pattiejoe7gmail-com @Opinxymenumento @Bobbidi-boo @Gooddysmart3 @Elijezy @Drumsaint @Oshio @Musterfi @Khaleedwr @Addieola @Chinedueze @Praise22 @Mdsodeeq @Sirjerro @Masterbill @Emileagosu @Kabazi95 @Daintyshewa @Klaussimbo @Peoray @Samnolimit @Babswalexyttyahoo-com @Shania55 @Conspirancy @Chinyenorah @Pharouq00 @Saraya @Blazeb @Virtuous @Amibabe @Mrsolace @Ennyshow @Haryormidey @Mzz_teddy @Daddyd @Cassiewells @Omoshalewa @Nheemot @Rukibaby19 @Abbeygirl25 @Serikibazooka1 @Samnolimit @Ugochisunday @Yusfaty @Muffybaba @Micheal1 @Judiee @Certifiedjx @Wumyte @Jokqees @Coolbaby @Victoriouschild @Temmyluv @Oyefestus @Xtremexamxong @Gamanuel @bidex @bright @sommyangel @amazingbaby @deweny @oyeyemiomolola @hormortiyor @angelauche @holusojihormorborlah @everybody come o:-D

Still observing

Heading somewhere

following.... like twitter

Ride on

sail on dude

Ride on!!!

Right here. Move on

Behind ya

@Snigdha, dis ur frnd Dimple ehn hope she wont end up spoilinq ur show for u cos I see dat she's sure a complete opposite of u. . . Ride on bae @pixzybee, I dey com make I qo buy pure-water frm Aboki outside make I use ahm take quench my thirst b4 u off-load the next episode(s).

@Frankkay I hear sey Tomato don qet Rank pass Apple for market dis days and now wey u won over-throw Buhari, shey u fit help us chanqe their market price? Since we are in the era of CHANGE.

@fridex trust me u Knw wat ur bro can do I will bring another type of change but am not sure if it is positive or negative

@frankkay ha! Let it be positive o unless u want to loose my vote and the entire votes in my constituency (u know my constituency has the larqest votes in the country so far) Besides, u know what my constituency can do to ur politcal career, dont u???

episode four Dimple!’ Snigdha looked at her bubbly friend Dimple’s wistful expression and felt like shaking her up. Dimple was an incorrigible romantic regardless of some really bad busted relationships in her past.Yet her innate romantic streak remained intact making her vulnerable. ‘Okay! My lips are sealed… for now!’ Dimple winked. ‘Going to make somemasala tea. Want some?’ After Dimple left, Snigdha still felt bursting with excitement as if she wanted to share this news with someone else. She did not want to tell her mom so soon as she knew she would panic at the thought of her going to Kashmir. Maybe she could call up her sister Sumedha? But resisting the urge to bore all and sundry with the details till she had signed the contract, she switched on the T.V and started surfing the channels, Sit Coms, Fashion T.V., daily soaps and finally settled down to a news channel watching some dramatic news about the caving in of a roof of a school in Mumbai, injuring hundreds of children, with no casualties. The shrieking voices of the parents, the panic-ridden reporting, the shots of the debris and the non committal bytes of the local politicians, all washing over her, making her restless. She hit the power off button on the remote, getting up. Hearing a rumbling in her stomach, Snigdha knew it was her dinner time, as she ate before 8pm. Strolling inside her small compact kitchen, she opened her fridge and rummaged inside to take out some salad, brown bread and cheese to make a hearty sandwich.Pulling a bottle of cold water,Snigdha suddenly remembered her Mom’s concerned voice complaining about her eating habits, last time she had visited her in Pachmari, where her Dad and Mom resided after her Dad’s retirement from army. Her Mom didn’t like one iota her habit of munching on sandwiches, slurping noodles and pasta or grabbing a hot dog from the nearest mall. But her no nonsense cool dude of a Dad, calmed her Mom’s fiery temper by reminding her that Snigdha is an adult and knows how to look after herself. Gulping the last bite of her sandwich and taking a few more swigs of cool water, Snigdha walked towards the balcony of the one bedroom flat. It had started drizzling which was not a common sight in Delhi at this time of the year, yet nothing could match the misty drizzle and cloudy weather of Pachmari nearly all year round. Snigdha reminisced the times she had visited Pachmari, just few hours from Bhopal, the capital of Madhya Pradesh. Sitting on the huge verandah of her Dad’s bunglow, was her favourite past time, sipping tea and watching the mistiness enveloping the rolling hills, the serpentine roads just in front of the house, slick with dampness and the air sharp and tangy with the smell of rains mixed with the heady fragrance of the abundant ferns around. Pachmari had always been Snigdha’s favourite haunt where she could unwind and relax. Heaving a sigh, Snigdha remembered the care-free days when her family used to visit the place during holidays,

Contd Sumedha her elder sister and Sumit, her brother running around like mad urchins, having the time of their life. Snigdha’s soft lips curved in a reminiscent smile. When they were kids, Sumedha was the quiet, contemplative types, always sitting under a birch tree, with a pen and paper, writing ditties. Whereas Sumit, constantly pestered Dad to go inside the Satpura National Park, to spot bisons, deers or even a leopard. Snigdha, on the other hand, loved visiting the ruins of temples, hidden waterfalls, and caves telling many untold stories. She still remembered when she was just a lanky girl of 12, she had climbed all the 1300 steps leading through three hills towards the famous ‘Chauragarh’ temple where hundreds of metal ‘Trishul’ marked the visit of hordes of devotees during the holy festival of Shivratri, celebrating the marriage anniversary of Lord Shiv and Goddess Parvati who are known for love and passion. Being a tomboy, Snigdha had sprinted away to glory jumping and counting the steps with her Dad’s driver and his 16 year old daughter, all the way to the top from where the whole of picturesque Pachmari could be seen, the Army Cantonment, the Mahadeo and Jatashankar Cave temples and the Pandav Caves. Wiping the crumbs off her loose top and matching track pants, Snigdha took the plate to the kitchen sink and rinsed. A sudden staccato knock heralded the arrival of Nitin who she knew would be coming as soon as his office got over. to be continued

so sorry guys for d late update....bin trying since buh d network is Nt favourable.... @fridex @onahsunday631 new update is here abeg make una help me call d register ooo

@tenniebenson @khola46 @wiseman @ibrams @pizzaro @swtharyomi @wyse-one @eddy @delight @pweety @mray @jummybabe @babe4biola @sofia @ritagold @kuks @originalannchilexdel @fridex @frank @frankkay @simzy @pheranmmie041 @temmyjoy @chriswayne @evanz @itzshaxee @mecuze @skookum @kingson1 @donmikie @kingsbest @t-dak @charlywizzy @charliebryn @hardeywummy @japhola @konphido @emmyrexx @adura @tholartee @nextangel @blessedgirl @ebube @jenifa @jclash @taiwo @chomyline @lawman @tinagabe @christiana @itmrabzeez @johnoscar @precy @timmy @dabcy @ikeholuwa1 @besty @starlet @okklad @angeleniola @ewomazeal @mizleemah @blessfelicity222 @anitcham @stephanie @lollybabe1 @dahcutebae @rhennyjay @geeadore @tiffany1 @tonia @hameyeenat @inemlove @promzy @mohjisolah @jencute @jenny @doublewealth @john451 @kniphemi @emmanesth @horpheyehmy @valking1 @pweety @kpumpy @justify @maurice @jummy @thankmic @christopher @anita @phinebraim @kedike @kemkit @gracy @saintkenz @december12 @promise @sylvia @bsam @portable @steph @aarti @olaking3 @harddy @blakstudd @prince @invincible @mhzzrblayse @azeeco @temmymofrosh @sandra @sandy @kaysmart22 @cherryserah @sexynikky1994 @youngestprince @davick @semilore @oyindamola @dhemilade1 @mature @pearl @franklin @kolababs @hollar @smilie @borwerleh @iksqueency @loveth @funmilayo1 @okklad @nizzy @flames @vict-vames @peace @sirp081 @kristen @kingsengine @aaron @tony @ruth @romancelord @itzshaxee @olamy4fun @abrahamdking @flamerouz @crusher @stanny39 @john @softtouch @onahsunday631 @jeddy @sonshine @sirgentle @vizkid @hoelhay @pharm-vickymears @teesolid @omoyemmy @olarach @daxking @krizzy @softie @holarbordah @ele @firstladyontop @obaby @sergentmax @mhizdaofot @ariketemmy @saraya @eminem @laurasteve299 @vickyola @unyo1 @pixzybee @gambola @monadisu @dazzlingangel @donyas @c-roderick @cookey @isabella1 @chisomsophia @mrfabulous @henry @mhizzthessy @millz @bishops10 @kreepyink @olaniyiadeshina @gracedkyenny @hardeyhorlar9 @holaryinkhar @inemeka @abevica @individual @olami @beryl @youngfellow @humblelion @natasha9976 @hartuny @emergencia @paula4eva @giftgodiva @divatimmy @finestberyl @sapiens @ahmad @ele1 @ferdinard @festoza006 @sharpzender @uncleba426 @paje @jenny123 @pemamezi @detector @pweetyfizzy @willingyung @napster @greg-billz @valentinelv @hayanfeoluwa @teju1 @dgreat @prestigiousfirstlady @petersandra121 @jenny1 @bryten50 @fallancy @rosey @jimmyjab @oluwanifemi @arosunshine @heartbrokekid @thosiano @peterox @iamsmv @adegunle3gmail-com @sparkling-2 @hoyenikky @maurice @lizzytee @zephyr @mhizterdimex @ladywen @holarmidey @scriptures @lollycobra @hardey1292 @adeblow23 @slimolayinkastar @damzybabe @adeshewa @softel @nifemi @abradek @beauty74 @cizzle @omolarami @nazysophy1 @yemitefestus @omoniyiola @inifek @coolbaby @nheemot @deejaygrin @hitiswell @fynboy @sirmike @aminzy @vicoch @sunnyklin20yahoo-com @psam @oshio @shikoleen @queencoded @kimmy @ifeoma1 @nobleay @felixharuna11 @ibktemi99 @hayzedefoe @chidex14 @classy @omodemilade59 @rufus @ladygrasha @ennylincoln @kingz1 @starlord1 @noskid @kodedreal @petermikel @frankymario @olatunjitobi @pweetylizzyqueen @olutcoded @sayrah @tomtim @missdammy @latienco @bimrach @mubarak @mubavak @adeolaajala1234 @olalekana69 @dbest @skulboy @beautyqueen @naomacjoyous @onyinyessica @drumsaint @debbi2nice @jamesgentility @megatron @okiripoto02gmail-com @rahzycute1 @hangellah46 @deltavictory @kay2ty7 @praisee @josephjuliet @xtopher @richymore @temmy744 @mrmorie @abosmart @adfaustina595gmail-com @adetolaadejoke @whizjay @anthcunny @freeday @ninny @abasienyene @henryjay @horgzy @abosmart @omodemilade59 @judith @mercykris @superstar4real @sanctus4real @bolaji2308 @damzybabe @profeze1 @horlarjuwhon @illusion002 @royzeray @oluwatosin @chinenye5404 @dharmex @inifek @pattiejoe7gmail-com @opinxymenumento @bobbidi-boo @gooddysmart3 @elijezy @drumsaint @oshio @musterfi @khaleedwr @addieola @chinedueze @praise22 @mdsodeeq @sirjerro @masterbill @emileagosu @kabazi95 @daintyshewa @klaussimbo @peoray @samnolimit @babswalexyttyahoo-com @shania55 @conspirancy @chinyenorah @pharouq00 @saraya @blazeb @virtuous @amibabe @mrsolace @ennyshow @haryormidey @mzz_teddy @daddyd @cassiewells @omoshalewa @nheemot @rukibaby19 @abbeygirl25 @serikibazooka1 @samnolimit @ugochisunday @yusfaty @muffybaba @micheal1 @judiee @certifiedjx @wumyte @jokqees @coolbaby @victoriouschild @temmyluv @oyefestus @xtremexamxong @gamanuel @pricelessangel @bidex @bright @deweny @nkluv @tessy @hardehbaryor112 @amazingbaby @sommyangel @reyhanat @nkluv @tessy @hardehbaryor112 @amazingbaby @yusingkey @olamibobo @nero @toochi @tonia @nwamajor @sommyangel @ugochisunday @oneal32 @motunrijoy25 @blazer @dewizki @emzy @kabazi95 @dexter22 @skylod @ewosboi @lilfresh @phauzy @klaussimbo @ocpresh @sahent @bayslaw007 @saviour @princeocity @henryjay @ajisam @peretyarimaj @slyking @cynthia20 @solomon @survivor1 @donpaschalo @reyhanat @blixin @wunmi @profeze1 @best98 @rossi @johnudo @luckykeyzz @horlamzy @nabla @histee @slimprincessjemmy @evrybody

Nice story .. Though d story z still confusing

Still followinq keenly with my buth firmly ridqed on my seat... @pixzybee dont mind those network jare, dat's how dey use to qive someone headache expecially when u need dem most...

@onahsunday631 d story might be confusing nw buh blive me it is interesting

I knw dear @pixzybee so ride on dear

Episode five Hi! Got the good news?’ Nitin saw her beaming smile and smiled back. Snigdha locked the door and sauntered towards the round glass dining table where a metal flask of tea was kept made by Dimple. She poured steaming tea in a big white tumbler with a smiley printed on it and passed it on to Nitin. Then she picked up her letter. Twirling the letter around her long fingers, she couldn’t hide her excitement. Nitin looked at her face glowing with excitement, her uptilted nose wrinkling, with the wide smile that her full lips were sporting now. Snigdha plonked herself on the fluffy rug on the floor, and leaned back on the settee kept near the window, close to where he was sitting. Nitin felt amused seeing her expression. ‘So finally we made it!’ Snigdha said happily. ‘No you made it!’ Nitin took the letter from her hands and skimmed his eyes around the subject. It was the same he had seen CCd to him by his boss, Chetan Nangia, who owned the ‘Triple Eye Communications.’ It’s your brainchild Snigdha. I just helped you push the proposal a bit. Now we are a team. Coming Monday, everything will be finalised. Your role in it, the contract, the initial advance given to you, the people who will assist you from Triple Eye and the deadlines. Soon after that, I will leave for Srinagar, to make some arrangements, take permissions, etc. In the meantime, you have to make the entire plan with two team players from Triple Eye, Tripti Khetan and Srinivasan from the production team. ‘They will tell you everything about the finances and introduce you to the right people. Of course, you are free to choose your own crew members.’ Snigdha was zapped by the speed with which Nitin was making the plans. ‘What about the person for the protagonist’s role?’ Snigdha asked cautiously. ‘Haven’t thought about it. Maybe you might want to do an audition. Again Tripti will help you. You know better the kind of person you need. My suggestion, take a professional, as the person has to be present throughout our shoot and be in command of herself in front of camera.’ Nitin said taking a sip from his tumbler. Snigdha cleared her throat and began gingerly, ‘How do you feel about Dimple?’ ‘Dimple? Your crazy, multicoloured friend?’ ‘Nitin! What do you mean multicoloured?’ ‘Never mind. Do you mean to say she is interested in this? Is she a good presenter? Has she ever appeared in front of camera?’ Nitin fired a barrage of questions. ‘One at a time please! Yes, she is a very good bilingual narrator, good in English as well as Hindi. She has emceed a couple of stage shows and is a voice over artist too. Satisfied?’ ‘Ask her to come and meet me in a couple of days.’ Nitin said thoughtfully. He tried to remember the effervescent, chirpy little girl he had met a couple of times with Snigdha. She was one hell of a good looking female, no doubt. But she was not of this type. He liked serious, level-headed women, more like Snigdha. He shrugged off this sudden excited leap of his heart at the thought of meeting Dimple. ‘Good for her.’ Snigdha said under her breath. ‘What did you say?’ Nitin came out of his reverie. ‘Oh nothing. Tell me Nitin, in my research paper, I have mentioned a couple of local links of journalists and social activists who can help us get in touch with the militant groups that we need to interview. One of them is Chander Prakash Raina from a local daily newspaper who met me in Delhi to give me some significant details. Would you be meeting them as well when you visit Kashmir?’ Soon after that Snigdha and Nitin got engrossed in the nitty-gritty of the planning that they were supposed to do regarding their shoot. The documentary was going to be a real life account of some militant or ‘Jihadi’ groups as they were called, out of which Snigdha had mentioned two low-key operatives whose members might be willing to appear on camera for interviews. They were surrendered militants. Nitin told her about the contact persons he had located from her research paper through a couple of his news channel friends, a few stringers, social activists and local Kashmiris in whose homes these militants took refuge during snowfall. In-between the discussion, Snigdha observed Nitin’s clean shaven face, sharp brown eyes, and crop-cut hair, cut close to his skull, giving him a distinct army guy look. He was one of those guys who had attracted a lot of female attention during their FTII days. She looked at his neat, expressive hands moving with his words, the expensive gold watch flashing under his formal shirt, and the pearl ring on his little finger. A cool-headed guy, she wondered why he was wearing a pearl studded in a smooth silver band, as astrologically she had heard, pearl was meant to cool hot temperaments. She was sure his cool temperament would gel really well with Dimple’s fiery nature! She felt aghast at this new matchmaking streak in her and shook herself literally to come out of the Dimplesque mood. It seems some of her best friend’s nature was affecting her too! ‘So, now I will have to take my leave Snigdha. Must get packing done and make some important calls to Srinagar.’ Nitin was getting up. to be continued...

cont'd * ** *** **** Snigdha scrambled up guiltily from her sitting position on the rug, realising that she had been busy matchmaking while Nitin was rattling away his plans all this time. She had to stop this bad habit of her thoughts going on a tangent every once in a while making her forget her surroundings, where she was and who she was with. ‘Let me know if you need me to talk to anyone. Maybe my Dad can pull a few strings. He was posted in Kargil for some time.’ Snigdha said. ‘Ah… Yes I remember! Sure I will get in touch with you… and do ask whats-her-name… to meet me as soon as I am back… OK? Chao then… see ya soon!’ With that hurried one liner, Nitin departed, leaving Snigdha feeling happy about Dimple being a part of her project… in case she was chosen. The rest of the week passed in a flurry. The day of the meeting arrived. Dressed in beige colour linen trousers, and beige and black short top moulding itself softly around her body, with brown strappy low heeled sandles, Snigdha felt confident and cool enough to face anyone. The meeting started off well, except for the hostile, calculating looks thrown at her from Tripti the Head of Operations at Triple Eye, as if she was not sure about something. Her hostility permeated the atmosphere a bit, because she could feel Nitin bristling with a defensive attitude every time a question was thrown at Snigdha regarding her film. Snigdha was torn between her irritation by Tripti’s attitude and Nitin’s fending off the blows. She felt she could take care of herself. But in the end, sick of Tripti’s snide remarks about her debut in film-making as Director, Snigdha braced herself, and spoke in what she thought was her most cool-as-a-cucumber tone and looked directly at Tripti while telling her about her plan and preparation. ‘I have done more than a year’s research Tripti, and handled all types of cameras from analog to high definition for documentaries. Though I’m a trained cinematographer, I have a few internationally-awarded films to my name, which have been on as difficult subjects as this one, where as a cameraperson, I had to literally live amidst thick jungles and deserts, rural areas and hostile people. That’s how I’ve learnt my trade. I haven’t been sitting on my laptop tapping my painted nails and surfing the Internet.’ She paused to let that sink in. ‘So don’t worry about my “inexperience”. Triple Eye won’t be disappointed in me.’ She could see a scowl appearing on Tripti’s smooth brow, and found her hawk-like gaze lock with hers in challenge, her painted lips pursed with scepticism. She noticed some amused looks exchanged between Nitin and other male members but she ignored it. It was not a victory for her but a statement which she had to make if she wanted the shooting to be smooth. After that, the meeting was buttery smooth, ending with some papers signed by her, her documents checked and finally her first cheque being handed over to her. Tripti was a reed thin, attractive, smart woman, who was tasting a different kind of power of the electronic medium since she had shifted from a leading daily newspaper in Kolkata. With her looks and brains, she had managed to carve a niche in the field of television industry, yet the innate negativity in her personality oozed out of every pore of her being. Her outlandish dress sense added to her persona. Tight fitting clothes draped her body like second skin and made her look older than her thirty something age. She made even a decent sari look overtly brazen on her body. Her behaviour towards most people in general and women in particular was patronising and arrogant most of the time, giving her a label of a hard nut to crack. Maybe she had a bad personal life to make her so snappy. She had heard somewhere in the grapevine that Tripti had two ex-husbands to boast of. Snigdha knew how a bad personal life could affect one’s mental state. Signing the last of the documents, Snigdha shook hands with everyone and came out of the conference hall, followed by Nitin close on her heels. ‘Bitch.’ He said under his breath. ‘Shhhh… don’t. She might hear you.’ Snigdha uttered looking over her shoulders. ‘Good for her. I hate bossy and aggressive women. What the hell does she think behaving like that with you? As if she is the boss, whereas Chetan and I were present there to handle it. Sometimes, she goes over the top.’ ‘Come on, she was just doing her job. And she’s good at it. Probably, she doesn’t like me, or she was just being…’ ‘Bitchy. That’s what she is! Anyways you are right. She is good at her job. Let’s ignore her. So tell me how does it feel to get your first big fat cheque?’ Nitin asked with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Lovely! But then I need it for paying advance to the crew and studio from where I have to hire equipment. Then logistics have to be taken care of and… ’ ‘YES BOSS!’ Snigdha laughed and held her hand out to Nitin who shook it before leaving. The next few weeks were a whirlwind for Snigdha. She met a number of cinematographers, sound recordists, technicians who she interviewed and hired the ones she liked and finally paid them their advance. Daily she sat on her schedules, shoot plans, shoot scripts, shot divisions, interviews and many things that only she could do. She had hired a young, energetic Assistant Director for herself, Ruby who worked with her round the clock, sometimes sleeping at her flat after a bone crunching day of hard work. She wanted Ruby to handle the interviews. Dimple had been auditioned and finalised. Snigdha sat with Nitin to discuss the style that Dimple would have, which would be of a journalist who is investigating and unearthing hitherto unknown group.

@ClassicDUDE{froshberry} @fridex @onahsunday631 @delight new episode is here... help me call others

@pizzaro (Mr Coolval) @invicible @Ritababe @Tennie Benson....come ooooo

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@individual and @coolval pls i want this story to be among the update story of today

Nice and cool

@onahsunday631 it has been added

@pixzybee pls attach the episode number to each upload. So it can be added to updated stories.

@individual alright... tanx

Rili need u guys to comment.... ur comments means a lot to me

Following...

Followinq

Yes, this story is beqininiq to qain more qround in my modula-oblonqata... I want miss any part of it evn thou' am a little busy But wait o, I never knew dat dis @pixzybee qirl is really a hell off a brainchild o, ride on dearie...

Am Here @pixzybee . . . Enjoying The Story You've Gat Here.....Ride On

fire on

don't even understand dis.... I've bin trying to update since morning but Nt going through

Voooooom!!! Jex landed with my yellow colored lamborghini. Interesting story. Please ride on ma'm.

episode six They decided to take local theatre artists for some re-construction that needed to be done of a couple of case studies. In her script, Snigdha was being very careful not to portray the militants in poor light, rather they were shown on neutral grounds, and truth about what they have been doing, why they are fighting for the freedom of Kashmir, why they have been resorting to violence and what is theirmodus operandi coming out through their interviews. Snigdha was fully aware that these facts coming out of the mouths of the ‘militants’ or ‘terrorists’ as they were called by world at large and ‘Jihadis’ or ‘freedom fighters’ as they were called by themselves would add weight and umbrage to her film. It was this strategy that prompted Snigdha to add loads of live and spot interviews of surrendered militants, candid shots of their camps and visuals of the villages where some of the victims lived and agreed to appear before camera. This aspect of her script had attracted Triple Eye as they wanted to be the first to have a realistic story on such a boiling subject. The fact that it was going to be a dangerous venture had prompted them to seek security from the police and army and cover from the local social activists. The team had discussed the danger of shooting in certain militant areas which they were supposed to avoid and had finally decided to first finish the interviews and other establishing scenes of Srinagar and then move on to highly disturbed places like Uri in Baramulla, Bandipura, Pulwama and Khilanmarg. Shuttling constantly between Triple Eye Office and her place of work, Snigdha had to deal with different types of people during her preparation. Some were not convinced of a scene here and there and needed a lot of explanation on her part to convince them of the relevance of it as per the story. Few locations had to be scrapped due to safety reasons. And team had to be made as compact as possible so that a big crowd would not go for the shoot lest it attracted too much attention and posed a danger for them. It was decided that the team of eight comprising Nitin, Tripti, Dimple, Ruby, Srinivasan, the cinematographer and his attendant who would be handling both light and sound and finally Snigdha would go to Jammu by the Rajdhani Express appearing like regular tourists where they will be received by a well-equipped van that would take them to their destination in Srinagar. The high-end digital cameras, the expensive lenses, lights and other accessories were all packed in specially designed fibre boxes for safety. Snigdha had not compromised in the selection of the equipment as she knew that her film might get a bigger and wider audience if it is nominated for the famous film festivals in Cannes, Toronto or LA. She wanted her film’s cinematography to be of top class and hired one of the best Directors of Photography of New Delhi who excelled in documentary shoot.

(contd) Packing a small backpack with space for holding more than it was possible, Snigdha was travelling light. Just a few pairs of denims, thick full sleeved sweatshirts, woollen Phirans, warm cotswoolsalwars, some pullovers and her long coat. She didn’t need any fancy clothes in this challenging job. She threw in a sturdy pair of sneakers and many pairs of socks. She remembered to take thermal innerwear too. After keeping her toiletteries and a small first-aid kit, she settled down on her cushy cane sofa, with a bowl of steaming chicken noodle soup and picked up her cell-phone to talk to her Mom. ‘Mum, how are you all? Is everyone there with you? Didi, Bhaiya… ?’ Snigdha knew her siblings usually visited her parents at this time of the year because of the vacations for the festivals spotting October onwards. ‘We are fine. The weather has improved, with October ending. Your sister is here with the kids but your Jijajicould not come. Sumit is coming tomorrow.’ Her Mom said. ‘Mom, I am leaving tomorrow.’ Snigdha blurted out hurriedly. Her Mom had not been too pleased with her announcement a few weeks ago about her impending Kashmir shoot. Her Mom sighed and said in a resigned voice, ‘Well all of you are grown ups and do not listen to everything we tell you, so I won’t waste my breath. But take care of yourself. And don’t forget to meet Colonel Rashid. He’s been an old friend of your father and will help you regarding anything. And Beta, I’ve heard that no cellular network works there except the local network?’ Snigdha could hear a hint of worry in her Mom’s wobbly voice. ‘Everything will be fine Mom. I am going with a team of eight people, amongst which four are men. And Dimple is with me Mom. I will take a local cell number as soon as I reach Srinagar and share that number with you. Don’t worry, Ma.’ Snigdha’s throat clogged with emotions and Ma slipped from her mouth as it happened whenever she got emotional. There was silence at the other end, then a soft sniff indicated that her Mom was equally emotional. ‘Chalo Mom, let me talk to Dad now otherwise he will complain that we don’t give him any importance.’ She laughed trying to ignore her eyes prickly with tears. No point convincing her soft-hearted, traditional mother about this burning ambition within her to do something different and extraordinary, like this film on Kashmiri militants. to be continued

@pizzaro @individual @frankkay @onahsunday @froshberry @fridex come oooooooo

@onahsunday631 new update is here help with d register

@Coolval... thanks..I've bin able to update it ... kindly help add it among today's updates

@Harmeenart @ebube @hauwa new episode is here

. New Epi z here quyz. General Register; @Khola46 @Wiseman @Ibrams @Pizzaro @Swtharyomi @Wyse-one @Eddy @Delight @Pweety @Mray @Jummybabe @Babe4biola @Sofia @Ritagold @Kuks @Originalannchilexdel @Fridex @Frank @Frankkay @Simzy @Pheranmmie041 @Temmyjoy @Chriswayne @Evanz @Itzshaxee @Mecuze @Skookum @Kingson1 @Donmikie @Kingsbest @T-Dak @Charlywizzy @Charliebryn @Hardeywummy @Japhola @Konphido @Emmyrexx @Adura @Tholartee @Nextangel @Blessedgirl @Ebube @Jenifa @Jclash @Taiwo @Chomyline @Lawman @Tinagabe @Christiana @Itmrabzeez @Johnoscar @Precy @Timmy @Dabcy @Ikeholuwa1 @Besty @Starlet @Okklad @Angeleniola @Ewomazeal @Mizleemah @Blessfelicity222 @Anitcham @Stephanie @Lollybabe1 @Dahcutebae @Rhennyjay @Geeadore @Tiffany1 @Tonia @Hameyeenat @Inemlove @Promzy @Mohjisolah @Jencute @Jenny @Doublewealth @John451 @Kniphemi @Vibratingwind @Emmanesth @Horpheyehmy @Valking1 @Pweety @Kpumpy @Justify @Maurice @Jummy @Thankmic @Christopher @Anita @Phinebraim @Kedike @Kemkit @Gracy @Saintkenz @December12 @Promise @Sylvia @Bsam @Portable @Steph @Aarti @Olaking3 @Harddy @Blakstudd @Prince @Invincible @Mhzzrblayse @Azeeco @Temmymofrosh @Sandra @Sandy @Kaysmart22 @Cherryserah @Sexynikky1994 @Youngestprince @Davick @Semilore @Oyindamola @Dhemilade1 @Mature @Pearl @Roes @Franklin @Kolababs @Hollar @Smilie @Borwerleh @Iksqueency @Loveth @Funmilayo1 @Okklad @Nizzy @Flames @Vict-Vames @Peace @Sirp081 @Kristen @Kingsengine @Aaron @Tony @Ruth @Romancelord @Itzshaxee @Olamy4fun @Abrahamdking @Flamerouz @Crusher @Stanny39 @John @Softtouch @Onahsunday631 @Jeddy @Sonshine @Sirgentle @Vizkid @Hoelhay @Pharm-vickymears @Teesolid @Omoyemmy @Olarach @Daxking @Krizzy @Softie @Holarbordah @Ele @Firstladyontop @Obaby @Sergentmax @Mhizdaofot @Ariketemmy @Saraya @Eminem @Laurasteve299 @vickyola @unyo1 @Nkluv @cynthia20 @pricelessangel @reyhanat @wunmi @best98 @rossi @johnudo @adauche @nobu @somisom @gsoul @peacebright @holakizzo @Gambola @Monadisu @Dazzlingangel @Donyas @C-Roderick @Cookey @Isabella1 @Chisomsophia @Mrfabulous @Henry @Mhizzthessy @Millz @Bishops10 @Kreepyink @Olaniyiadeshina @Gracedkyenny @Hardeyhorlar9 @Holaryinkhar @Inemeka @Abevica @Individual @Olami @Beryl @Youngfellow @Humblelion @Natasha9976 @Hartuny @Emergencia @Paula4eva @GiftGodiva @Divatimmy @Finestberyl @Sapiens @Ahmad @Ele1 @Ferdinard @Festoza006 @Sharpzender @Uncleba426 @Paje @Jenny123 @Pemamezi @Detector @Pweetyfizzy @Willingyung @Napster @Greg-billz @Valentinelv @Hayanfeoluwa @Teju1 @Dgreat @Prestigiousfirstlady @Petersandra121 @Jenny1 @Bryten50 @Fallancy @Rosey @Jimmyjab @Oluwanifemi @Arosunshine @Heartbrokekid @Thosiano @Peterox @Iamsmv @Adegunle3gmail-com @Sparkling-2 @Hoyenikky @Maurice @Lizzytee @Zephyr @Mhizterdimex @Ladywen @Holarmidey @Scriptures @Lollycobra @Hardey1292 @Adeblow23 @Slimolayinkastar @Damzybabe @Adeshewa @Softel @Nifemi @Abradek @Beauty74 @Cizzle @Omolarami @Nazysophy1 @Yemitefestus @Omoniyiola @Inifek @Coolbaby @Nheemot @Deejaygrin @Hitiswell @Fynboy @Sirmike @Aminzy @Vicoch @Sunnyklin20Yahoo-com @Psam @Oshio @Shikoleen @Queencoded @Kimmy @Ifeoma1 @Nobleay @Felixharuna11 @Ibktemi99 @Hayzedefoe @Chidex14 @Classy @Omodemilade59 @Rufus @Ladygrasha @Ennylincoln @Kingz1 @Starlord1 @Noskid @Kodedreal @Petermikel @Frankymario @Olatunjitobi @Pweetylizzyqueen @Olutcoded @Sayrah @Tomtim @Missdammy @Latienco @Bimrach @Mubarak @Mubavak @Adeolaajala1234 @Olalekana69 @Dbest @Skulboy @Beautyqueen @Naomacjoyous @Onyinyessica @Drumsaint @Debbi2nice @Jamesgentility @Megatron @Okiripoto02gmail-com @Rahzycute1 @Hangellah46 @Deltavictory @Kay2ty7 @Praisee @Josephjuliet @Xtopher @Richymore @Temmy744 @Mrmorie @Abosmart @Adfaustina595gmail-com @Adetolaadejoke @Whizjay @Anthcunny @Freeday @Ninny @Abasienyene @Henryjay @Horgzy @Abosmart @Omodemilade59 @Judith @Mercykris @Superstar4real @Sanctus4real @Bolaji2308 @Damzybabe @Profeze1 @Horlarjuwhon @Illusion002 @Royzeray @Oluwatosin @Chinenye5404 @Dharmex @Inifek @Pattiejoe7gmail-com @Opinxymenumento @Bobbidi-boo @Gooddysmart3 @Elijezy @Drumsaint @Oshio @Musterfi @Khaleedwr @Addieola @Chinedueze @Praise22 @Mdsodeeq @Sirjerro @Masterbill @Emileagosu @Kabazi95 @Daintyshewa @Klaussimbo @Peoray @Samnolimit @Babswalexyttyahoo-com @Shania55 @Conspirancy @Chinyenorah @Pharouq00 @Saraya @Blazeb @Virtuous @Amibabe @Mrsolace @Ennyshow @Haryormidey @Mzz_teddy @Daddyd @Cassiewells @Omoshalewa @Nheemot @Rukibaby19 @Abbeygirl25 @Serikibazooka1 @Samnolimit @Ugochisunday @Yusfaty @Muffybaba @Micheal1 @Judiee @Certifiedjx @Wumyte @Jokqees @Coolbaby @Victoriouschild @Temmyluv @Oyefestus @Xtremexamxong @Gamanuel @bidex @bright @sommyangel @amazingbaby @deweny @oyeyemiomolola @hormortiyor @angelauche @holusojihormorborlah @everybody come o;-(;->

This una name i can't write it o...just stay safe

Hope nothinq 'll happen to @Kimberly while shootinq the muvie coz I don dey sense some ish already o Ride on @pixzybee am with u 2 four 7 Welcome Oqa @pizzaro now dat u have landed hope u did land with plenty of exccessive qoodies cos ur pikin dey here dey yawn o

Nice story...

@pixzybee Weldon hun!

Following steadily

;-)

episode 7 Thereafter followed a series of conversations full of emotions ranging from hyper excitement to panic to patient hearing and finally encouraging. The latter by her Dad who was a tough guy and always wanted his children to be as tough as him. He was very positive about this project of hers and had told her at length about the situation in Kashmir. In fact, he had been one of her research sources. Her mother was altogether a different matter. She like all mothers loved fawning over her kids however grown up they were. She was always worried about the single but happy Snigdha, waiting for her to get settled with a good guy, and a couple of children in tow. She was especially worried about her 32 year old son, who had been unlucky in marriage. His wife had filed for a divorce and he had no qualms giving it. Their mother just couldn’t understand how he had let her go so easily without any objections. Little did she realise that her beloved son knew the futility of objecting when he was also to be blamed because of his workaholic nature that had distanced him from his wife, who had got bored sitting at home waiting for him to return and spend some time with her. Gradually, a time came, when she had decided to go abroad and pursue her dream, of doing PhD in Astronomy, leaving behind no debris from her marriage. They were lucky not to have any child out of their brief marriage. Snigdha didn’t blame the lady for looking for happiness in her work. It was obvious that her Mom didn’t appreciate her daughter-in-law’s bout of emancipation and considered her son the scapegoat. He was far from that, enjoying his freedom and deciding to remain a confirmed bachelor, shunning all overtures of his mother for a second marriage. Keeping the phone down, Snigdha closed her laptop, and finished her packing by keeping the laptop and her Canon 5D camera which she always carried for any shoots, as it was terrific for stills as well as visuals.

(contd) Snigdha watched the beautiful landscape which was unfolding before her eyes, when they started from Jammu in the massive and shining black SUV. She turned her head to look at Dimple who was reading,Fifty Shades of Gray, the latest rage amongst readers, after getting absolutely no response from Nitin. Snigdha smiled and looked out of the tinted glass window. Very soon they would be reaching Anantnag. Snigdha’s mind turned towards her script. She had devoted a lot of time and energy in creating a unified, sensitive script highlighting the present-day turmoil of Kashmir, where more than anything, the innocent people were getting affected by the constant violence and the politicising of the violence. Her mind dwelled on the chequered history of Kashmir. Kashmir was a princely state and during partition of India and Pakistan in 1947, Vallabhbhai Patel of the Congress Party had played a vital role in giving Kashmir the right to choose between Pakistan and India. Places like Junagarh, Sind went to Pakistan. Hari Singh, the then King of Kashmir was Lord Mount Battén’s friend. He used Kashmir as a buffer between Afghanistan, Russia, China and India. Hari Singh opted to join with India which infuriated Pakistan. The situation changed drastically when newly elected Prime Minister of India, Jawaharlal Nehru came to the forefront. Belonging to Kashmir himself, his relation with Hari Singh was cordial. He introduced Article 370 in the Constitution, that gave special status to Kashmir except in the spheres of Defence, Revenue and Communication. After Hari Singh, his 18 year old son, Karan Singh was made the Sadre Riyasat, the King. During this time, the Prime Minister of Jammu & Kashmir was Sheikh Abdullah. This is when the tension started brewing, fomenting into a boiling point between the Sheikh and Nehru. Around 1956-57, Nehru under Article 356, put Kashmir under President’s rule. Sheikh was arrested. The war of 1965 between India and Pakistan created the Line of Control and Pakistan and India occupied Kashmirs. Although the situation normalised under the next Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, the Kashmiris felt deep-rooted bitterness against the Indian Government. It was this mistrust and hostility that has been used as an advantage by USA and Pakistan with the help of local Kashmiri separatist groups under the name of religion which precipitated the onslaught of terrorism and bouts of violence all over Jammu & Kashmir and the Indian subcontinent. The demolition of Babri Masjid by Hindu fundamentalists in 1992 ignited the already boiling crisis and thus started the fresh spate of violence and extremism in Kashmir. Slowly, one heard of training camps mushrooming with the help of outside terrorist groups from Afghanistan like the Taliban and Lashkar-e-Taiba, Jaish-e-Mohammad from Pakistan even though publicly they were banned in Pakistan. ‘Jehad’ a fairly misleading and misunderstood term originally meaning ‘struggle’ was being taught in madarsasdipped in violence and hatred across the border. Bright, young unemployed Kashmiri men were lured into this ‘so-called’ holy war of independence and turned into ‘fidayeen’ once they step on the Pakistan-occupied Kashmir (PoK) to get trained. By 1987, the first lot of trained infiltrators penetrated from Line of Control (LOC) into India. Hundreds of ‘Jehadis’ were killed and ambushed by the Indian army and this resulted in the innocent villagers getting crushed between the army and the militants. Hundreds of refugees entered India due to backlash from Pakistan. They had nowhere to go except hope to lead a better life in some distant future when they would be able to call Kashmir their home and lead a peaceful life, getting education and employment in their home state. Snigdha was hoping to catch the pathos of the tragic situation in Kashmir, the frustration and numb acceptance of their harsh reality, the constant fear and the glimmer of hope still shining in hundreds of youths who are living each day as it comes. The film would be a live, palpitating account of the agony of these people, a neutral approach that would delve deep into the psyche of these perpetrators of crime without glorifying them and create a saga that would make people sit and watch and maybe do something about it. to be continued.....

@fridex @hermeenart @individual @onahsunday631 @invincible @frankkay @pizzaro @froshberry new episode is here ooooo

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Loving this already..though her family part...that history part z some hw sha

following

Ride on...

Interesting!!! . . Lol @Fridex Oga mi @Invincible robbed me on my way Here o. I'm jex empty as i dey so. :-)

Episode 8 Now looking at the glistening valley and the sinking globe of sun dappling the ripples in the Jhelum river, Snigdha uttered the words that Mughal emperor had eulogised about Kashmir, ‘Gar Firdaus barrue zaminasta… haminasta, haminasta, haminasta.’ If ever there was heaven on earth, it was here and only here in Kashmir. A paradise that was indeed in flames. It was high time those flames were doused, otherwise just the ashes would remain to be witnessed by the generations to come. The SUV jerked to a halt at a ‘dhaba’, which said ‘Papaji Da Dhaba’, typically Punjabi style. They had stopped for some refreshment. It was Anantnag. Snigdha’s eyes skimmed over a line of shops selling cricket bats. She had heard that one of the best cricket bats came from Anantnag which were made out of shesham wood, found profusely in the woods of Kashmir. Street was buzzing with people, some having got down from mini buses and vans like them. Others looked like traders and merchants wrapped up in typical pathan salwars andkurtas and Kashmiri topis. Snigdha could guess what they would be selling out of Kashmir. She had seen a number of them roaming the streets of Delhi, shouting ‘carpets carpets’, in their nasal style. Carpets and woollen shawls and Phirans, the voluminous cotswoolkurtas were typical goods that have a great market outside Kashmir. She stretched her legs and arms and sat down on the rickety wooden bench kept outside the restaurant. Dimple came and sat beside her, handing her a tiny glass of milky tea. All the others were sitting here and there on benches, sipping steaming tea in similar glasses, typically dhaba style. Snigdha pushed wisps of soft hair that had come out of her knot at her nape. She had forgotten to have her waist length hair cut. It could be very cumbersome looking after it in the cold weather of Kashmir where water could be scarce. She craned her neck to see where Tripti was sitting. Tripti was standing outside the bus, puffing out smoke with Srinivasan and Nitin who she had seen smoking sometimes. ‘That Tripti is a hazard to the environment! Man! She smokes like crazy!!!’ Dimple said with her lips curling in derision. ‘What’s it to you? Let her kill herself if she wants. Yeah… if you are bothered about her getting attention of all the male species around then… ’ Snigdha watched for any change in Dimple’s expressions. ‘Huh? Excuse me! I don’t care! I would rather say, she’s most welcome to all the male species!!’ Dimple’s voice was full of some emotion. Her eyes narrowed. Was it jealousy? ‘All male species?’ Snigdha pursued teasingly.

u guys r Nt encouraging me.if I shld rate ur comments,it is 18%

@fridex, @pizzaro @onahsunday631 @hermeenart @frankkay @tenniebenson @jummybabe @froshberry @Ritagold. new episode is here....come ooooooo

@pizzaro why report to @fridex, is he a cop?

Interesting! Ride on pls

@pixzybee u are doing a great work here..weldone dear...

E Un Miracolo Che Siano Tornati Dall'afghanistan!

Ride On Dearie @pixzybee

@Hayzedefoe @Marangel @orevastar5 @victoriouschild @macrex @adauche @peacebright new updates is here

@holakizzo @Henry Sanctus @¤Prince~Jude¤ @hauwa @Tolani come ooooo

@krizzy @eliboy.....new episode is here

@pixzybee thanks

New epic here come and enjoy ur self jare @khola46 @wiseman @ibrams @pizzaro @swtharyomi @wyse-one @eddy @delight @pweety @mray @jummybabe @babe4biola @sofia @ritagold @kuks @originalannchilexdel @fridex @frank @frankkay @simzy @pheranmmie041 @temmyjoy @chriswayne @evanz @itzshaxee @mecuze @skookum @kingson1 @donmikie @kingsbest @t-dak @charlywizzy @charliebryn @hardeywummy @japhola @konphido @emmyrexx @adura @tholartee @nextangel @blessedgirl @ebube @jenifa @jclash @taiwo @chomyline @lawman @tinagabe @christiana @itmrabzeez @johnoscar @precy @timmy @dabcy @ikeholuwa1 @besty @starlet @okklad @angeleniola @ewomazeal @mizleemah @blessfelicity222 @anitcham @stephanie @lollybabe1 @dahcutebae @rhennyjay @geeadore @tiffany1 @tonia @hameyeenat @inemlove @promzy @mohjisolah @jencute @jenny @doublewealth @john451 @kniphemi @emmanesth @horpheyehmy @valking1 @pweety @kpumpy @justify @maurice @jummy @thankmic @christopher @anita @phinebraim @kedike @kemkit @gracy @saintkenz @december12 @promise @sylvia @bsam @portable @steph @aarti @olaking3 @harddy @blakstudd @prince @invincible @mhzzrblayse @azeeco @temmymofrosh @sandra @sandy @kaysmart22 @cherryserah @sexynikky1994 @youngestprince @davick @semilore @oyindamola @dhemilade1 @mature @pearl @roes @franklin @kolababs @hollar @smilie @borwerleh @iksqueency @loveth @funmilayo1 @okklad @nizzy @flames @vict-vames @peace @sirp081 @kristen @kingsengine @aaron @tony @ruth @romancelord @itzshaxee @olamy4fun @abrahamdking @flamerouz @crusher @stanny39 @john @softtouch @onahsunday631 @jeddy @sonshine @sirgentle @vizkid @hoelhay @pharm- vickymears @teesolid @omoyemmy @olarach @daxking @krizzy @softie @holarbordah @ele @firstladyontop @obaby @sergentmax @mhizdaofot @ariketemmy @saraya @eminem @laurasteve299 @vickyola @unyo1 @nkluv @cynthia20 @pricelessangel @reyhanat @wunmi @best98 @rossi @johnudo @adauche @nobu @somisom @gsoul @peacebright @holakizzo @gambola @monadisu @dazzlingangel @donyas @c- roderick @cookey @isabella1 @chisomsophia @mrfabulous @henry @mhizzthessy @millz @bishops10 @kreepyink @olaniyiadeshina @gracedkyenny @hardeyhorlar9 @holaryinkhar @inemeka @abevica @individual @olami @beryl @youngfellow @humblelion @natasha9976 @hartuny @emergencia @paula4eva @giftgodiva @divatimmy @finestberyl @sapiens @ahmad @ele1 @ferdinard @festoza006 @sharpzender @uncleba426 @paje @jenny123 @pemamezi @detector @pweetyfizzy @willingyung @napster @greg-billz @valentinelv @hayanfeoluwa @teju1 @dgreat @prestigiousfirstlady @petersandra121 @jenny1 @bryten50 @fallancy @rosey @jimmyjab @oluwanifemi @arosunshine @heartbrokekid @thosiano @peterox @iamsmv @adegunle3gmail-com @sparkling-2 @hoyenikky @maurice @lizzytee @zephyr @mhizterdimex @ladywen @holarmidey @scriptures @lollycobra @hardey1292 @adeblow23 @slimolayinkastar @damzybabe @adeshewa @softel @nifemi @abradek @beauty74 @cizzle @omolarami @nazysophy1 @yemitefestus @omoniyiola @inifek @coolbaby @nheemot @deejaygrin @hitiswell @fynboy @sirmike @aminzy @vicoch @sunnyklin20yahoo-com @psam @oshio @shikoleen @queencoded @kimmy @ifeoma1 @nobleay @felixharuna11 @ibktemi99 @hayzedefoe @chidex14 @classy @omodemilade59 @rufus @ladygrasha @ennylincoln @kingz1 @starlord1 @noskid @kodedreal @petermikel @frankymario @olatunjitobi @pweetylizzyqueen @olutcoded @sayrah @tomtim @missdammy @latienco @bimrach @mubarak @mubavak @adeolaajala1234 @olalekana69 @dbest @skulboy @beautyqueen @naomacjoyous @onyinyessica @drumsaint @debbi2nice @jamesgentility @megatron @okiripoto02gmail-com @rahzycute1 @hangellah46 @deltavictory @kay2ty7 @praisee @josephjuliet @xtopher @richymore @temmy744 @mrmorie @abosmart @adfaustina595gmail-com @adetolaadejoke @whizjay @anthcunny @freeday @ninny @abasienyene @henryjay @horgzy @abosmart @omodemilade59 @judith @mercykris @superstar4real @sanctus4real @bolaji2308 @damzybabe @profeze1 @horlarjuwhon @illusion002 @royzeray @oluwatosin @chinenye5404 @dharmex @inifek @pattiejoe7gmail-com @opinxymenumento @bobbidi-boo @gooddysmart3 @elijezy @drumsaint @oshio @musterfi @khaleedwr @addieola @chinedueze @praise22 @mdsodeeq @sirjerro @masterbill @emileagosu @kabazi95 @daintyshewa @klaussimbo @peoray @samnolimit @babswalexyttyahoo-com @shania55 @conspirancy @chinyenorah @pharouq00 @saraya @blazeb @virtuous @amibabe @mrsolace @ennyshow @haryormidey @mzz_teddy @daddyd @cassiewells @omoshalewa @nheemot @rukibaby19 @abbeygirl25 @serikibazooka1 @samnolimit @ugochisunday @yusfaty @muffybaba @micheal1 @judiee @certifiedjx @wumyte @jokqees @coolbaby @victoriouschild @temmyluv @oyefestus @xtremexamxong @gamanuel @bidex @bright @sommyangel @amazingbaby @deweny @oyeyemiomolola @hormortiyor @angelauche @holusojihormorborla @macrex @stanlex

Nice story.. following.

@pixzybee tnx.. Nice story uve gt here

Umm... @pizzaro if not dat @invincible is turninq into somethinq else now ehn I'll have say u are stinqy but now it seems the quy is not trust worthy anymore cos he almost rob me of my money sayinq he 'll teach me how to fiqht acrobat style wth 20m fee so dat I'll be like TARASHA, can u imaqine! Well, am beqininq to doubt him now o . Ride on @pixzybee am alwys wth u 2four7

next.

episode 9 Dimple turned towards her exasperatedly about to say something but looking at her expression, heaved a sigh dramatically. ‘And you call yourself my best friend!!!’ Dimple lips were twitching in amusement now. ‘Why don’t you just go and strike a conversation?’ ‘You think I’ve not tried? Hell, he ignores me. And she is rude to me. So I carefully avoid them when they are together. ‘I think you should change your strategy. Ignore him for a couple of days. Then see the effect.’ Snigdha offered. ‘You think that old trick will work?’ Dimple was not convinced. ‘It always works. Guys like challenges, bit of resistance from women initially and definitely get tempted if the hunt is interesting!’ ‘Well… if you think so… though it’s quite opposite to my innate nature…’ ‘Sometimes that’s alluring Dimple. Just try it once. Worse comes to worse, he will still not be interested!!’ Snigdha laughed at this and Dimple joined. Snigdha knew in her heart, Nitin was just trying his best to be professional right now, but she had seen him stealing glances at her. As they got up to go towards the bus, Nitin came with a newspaper in his hand. Tapping at a headline, Nitin said, ‘Have you seen the news? Two children have been kidnapped by ‘Qurban e Jihad’, who have sent an email to the State Government to free two of their mates from the Sadar Jail. It seems our arrival has coincided with a slight disturbance in the valley. A procession is out in the city by the families of the children against the militant group.’ ‘But hadn’t the Central Government released a few terrorists last year?’ Snigdha asked incredulously. ‘They were for the other outfit, ‘Harkutalansar’, the group supported by the Taliban. Right now a few major outfits are ruling the roost here, both supported by Pakistan and encouraged by the separatist factions like Jung-e-Azadi in Kashmir. One of them is QEJ which has issued this warning to the State Government.’ Nitin’s face had become tensed and eyes thoughtful. ‘I thought a lot of terrorists had surrendered…’ Snigdha uttered under her breath. Nitin looked at her, noticing the tensed tone. ‘Yes some have. That’s why we have lined up the surrendered militants of the ‘Al Faran’ group you had researched. Srinagar has a lot of those roaming around streets and helping the forces too. Under the Amnesty International’s rehabilitation schemes, these youths have been given a lease of life to begin it afresh. Unfortunately, militancy is still rampant in many areas. And this sudden turn of events means Srinagar too is tensed right now.’ Snigdha looked at Dimple who was rubbing her arms, with her brow puckered in a frown.

@krizzy @eliboy @fridex @pizzaro @hermeenart @onahsunday631 @frankkay @invincible @individual @froshberry_2 new episode is here

@onahsunday631 Pls help with d register

Pls help me add it to today's updates

Hmmm..following

. New Epi z here quyz. General Register; @Khola46 @Wiseman @Ibrams @Pizzaro @Swtharyomi @Wyse-one @Eddy @Delight @Pweety @Mray @Jummybabe @Babe4biola @Sofia @Ritagold @Kuks @Originalannchilexdel @Fridex @Frank @Frankkay @Simzy @Pheranmmie041 @Temmyjoy @Chriswayne @Evanz @Itzshaxee @Mecuze @Skookum @Kingson1 @Donmikie @Kingsbest @T-Dak @Charlywizzy @Charliebryn @Hardeywummy @Japhola @Konphido @Emmyrexx @Adura @Tholartee @Nextangel @Blessedgirl @Ebube @Jenifa @Jclash @Taiwo @Chomyline @Lawman @Tinagabe @Christiana @Itmrabzeez @Johnoscar @Precy @Timmy @Dabcy @Ikeholuwa1 @Besty @Starlet @Okklad @Angeleniola @Ewomazeal @Mizleemah @Blessfelicity222 @Anitcham @Stephanie @Lollybabe1 @Dahcutebae @Rhennyjay @Geeadore @Tiffany1 @Tonia @Hameyeenat @Inemlove @Promzy @Mohjisolah @Jencute @Jenny @Doublewealth @John451 @Kniphemi @Vibratingwind @Emmanesth @Horpheyehmy @Valking1 @Pweety @Kpumpy @Justify @Maurice @Jummy @Thankmic @Christopher @Anita @Phinebraim @Kedike @Kemkit @Gracy @Saintkenz @December12 @Promise @Sylvia @Bsam @Portable @Steph @Aarti @Olaking3 @Harddy @Blakstudd @Prince @Invincible @Mhzzrblayse @Azeeco @Temmymofrosh @Sandra @Sandy @Kaysmart22 @Cherryserah @Sexynikky1994 @Youngestprince @Davick @Semilore @Oyindamola @Dhemilade1 @Mature @Pearl @Roes @Franklin @Kolababs @Hollar @Smilie @Borwerleh @Iksqueency @Loveth @Funmilayo1 @Okklad @Nizzy @Flames @Vict-Vames @Peace @Sirp081 @Kristen @Kingsengine @Aaron @Tony @Ruth @Romancelord @Itzshaxee @Olamy4fun @Abrahamdking @Flamerouz @Crusher @Stanny39 @John @Softtouch @Onahsunday631 @Jeddy @Sonshine @Sirgentle @Vizkid @Hoelhay @Pharm-vickymears @Teesolid @Omoyemmy @Olarach @Daxking @Krizzy @Softie @Holarbordah @Ele @Firstladyontop @Obaby @Sergentmax @Mhizdaofot @Ariketemmy @Saraya @Eminem @Laurasteve299 @vickyola @unyo1 @Nkluv @cynthia20 @pricelessangel @reyhanat @wunmi @best98 @rossi @johnudo @adauche @nobu @somisom @gsoul @peacebright @holakizzo @Gambola @Monadisu @Dazzlingangel @Donyas @C-Roderick @Cookey @Isabella1 @Chisomsophia @Mrfabulous @Henry @Mhizzthessy @Millz @Bishops10 @Kreepyink @Olaniyiadeshina @Gracedkyenny @Hardeyhorlar9 @Holaryinkhar @Inemeka @Abevica @Individual @Olami @Beryl @Youngfellow @Humblelion @Natasha9976 @Hartuny @Emergencia @Paula4eva @GiftGodiva @Divatimmy @Finestberyl @Sapiens @Ahmad @Ele1 @Ferdinard @Festoza006 @Sharpzender @Uncleba426 @Paje @Jenny123 @Pemamezi @Detector @Pweetyfizzy @Willingyung @Napster @Greg-billz @Valentinelv @Hayanfeoluwa @Teju1 @Dgreat @Prestigiousfirstlady @Petersandra121 @Jenny1 @Bryten50 @Fallancy @Rosey @Jimmyjab @Oluwanifemi @Arosunshine @Heartbrokekid @Thosiano @Peterox @Iamsmv @Adegunle3gmail-com @Sparkling-2 @Hoyenikky @Maurice @Lizzytee @Zephyr @Mhizterdimex @Ladywen @Holarmidey @Scriptures @Lollycobra @Hardey1292 @Adeblow23 @Slimolayinkastar @Damzybabe @Adeshewa @Softel @Nifemi @Abradek @Beauty74 @Cizzle @Omolarami @Nazysophy1 @Yemitefestus @Omoniyiola @Inifek @Coolbaby @Nheemot @Deejaygrin @Hitiswell @Fynboy @Sirmike @Aminzy @Vicoch @Sunnyklin20Yahoo-com @Psam @Oshio @Shikoleen @Queencoded @Kimmy @Ifeoma1 @Nobleay @Felixharuna11 @Ibktemi99 @Hayzedefoe @Chidex14 @Classy @Omodemilade59 @Rufus @Ladygrasha @Ennylincoln @Kingz1 @Starlord1 @Noskid @Kodedreal @Petermikel @Frankymario @Olatunjitobi @Pweetylizzyqueen @Olutcoded @Sayrah @Tomtim @Missdammy @Latienco @Bimrach @Mubarak @Mubavak @Adeolaajala1234 @Olalekana69 @Dbest @Skulboy @Beautyqueen @Naomacjoyous @Onyinyessica @Drumsaint @Debbi2nice @Jamesgentility @Megatron @Okiripoto02gmail-com @Rahzycute1 @Hangellah46 @Deltavictory @Kay2ty7 @Praisee @Josephjuliet @Xtopher @Richymore @Temmy744 @Mrmorie @Abosmart @Adfaustina595gmail-com @Adetolaadejoke @Whizjay @Anthcunny @Freeday @Ninny @Abasienyene @Henryjay @Horgzy @Abosmart @Omodemilade59 @Judith @Mercykris @Superstar4real @Sanctus4real @Bolaji2308 @Damzybabe @Profeze1 @Horlarjuwhon @Illusion002 @Royzeray @Oluwatosin @Chinenye5404 @Dharmex @Inifek @Pattiejoe7gmail-com @Opinxymenumento @Bobbidi-boo @Gooddysmart3 @Elijezy @Drumsaint @Oshio @Musterfi @Khaleedwr @Addieola @Chinedueze @Praise22 @Mdsodeeq @Sirjerro @Masterbill @Emileagosu @Kabazi95 @Daintyshewa @Klaussimbo @Peoray @Samnolimit @Babswalexyttyahoo-com @Shania55 @Conspirancy @Chinyenorah @Pharouq00 @Saraya @Blazeb @Virtuous @Amibabe @Mrsolace @Ennyshow @Haryormidey @Mzz_teddy @Daddyd @Cassiewells @Omoshalewa @Nheemot @Rukibaby19 @Abbeygirl25 @Serikibazooka1 @Samnolimit @Ugochisunday @Yusfaty @Muffybaba @Micheal1 @Judiee @Certifiedjx @Wumyte @Jokqees @Coolbaby @Victoriouschild @Temmyluv @Oyefestus @Xtremexamxong @Gamanuel @bidex @bright @sommyangel @amazingbaby @deweny @oyeyemiomolola @hormortiyor @angelauche @holusojihormorborlah @everybody come o',,..

hope I'm at the right seat? @pixzybee

[b] following keenly (ghost mood) [/b]

Why Frowning?... Abeg Smile Jhoor. . . Ride On!

Following..

The situation of the environment is not friendly at all. @Srinagar, I don't mind if u and ur co-workers 'll chanqe location for the muvie shoot... I wont 4qive myself if anythinq happen to u oo . . @pixzybee Me, still followinq keenly, tanks for the IV

okay

episode 10 ‘So what do we do now?’ Snigdha asked Nitin. ‘Well… I think I will get in touch with the commissioner of police. We will probably need a bit of extra protection because of the surrendered militants that we have to meet. You never know how the ‘Al Faran’ outfit would react about their oldmates giving us interviews. And we might have to cancel our camp visit as it could be dangerous. Although we have been allowed to visit incognito just to take some quick shots of one of the training camps bordering the LOC.’ Nitin said chewing his lips. Snigdha had known that their stint into Kashmir would not be a cakewalk. Especially when the script demanded meeting surrendered militants, victims of terrorists’ atrocities, and innocents harmed because of militant—army antagonism. Aiming to make the film realistic, Snigdha wanted to show ‘real experiences’ of terrorists, their motive to fight this bitter war of freedom through violence, the unfair means of terrorising citizens, the incessant politics between them and the forces. This meant going deeper into the underbelly of violent Kashmir, meeting people, hearing their stories which inevitably might antagonise some groups. Snigdha knew they had to be very careful as filming was a sensitive issue still there. Arrangements had been made for their lodging on a shikara(houseboat) on Dal Lake. Something which was her demand and had been fulfilled by Nitin, for the entire team, although a hotel might have been a more practical option pointed rudely by Tripti. But they had all agreed that they wanted to experience the real Kashmir. They reached the beautiful, serene lake laden with soft pink lotuses. They could even see floating gardens called ‘Rad’ in Kashmir moving serenely on the lake which was really a novelty for all of them. Snigdha saw a young boy on a narrow shikara laden with huge bunches of lotus and chrysanthymum flowers and bouquets just like the way she had seen in the 60s Hindi film, Kashmir Ki Kali. He must be a florist out to sell flowers in the town. Theshikaras had a musty smell, not very well maintained due to thinning of tourists in the last decade. But Snigdha’s and Dimple’s room was beautiful in spite of the mustiness and overlooked the river behind which were the snow capped Pir Pranjal mountains. The walls of the boat were covered by padded silk wall papers, the wooden panels were shining with fresh polish, the carpets under their feet was thick and fairly new and the dresser was bright green and gold, carved ornately at the corners. The bed was big enough for both of them, with fluffy pillows and fresh blankets. Before Snigdha could say anything, Dimple flopped on the bed and lay supine, heaving a sigh and muttering sleepily:

Sweetheart, can we order room service? I have no strength to go meet the others wherever we are supposed to have dinner.’ ‘I think we can order something here. We have a meeting at 9 am in the morning, where we will plan our day’s schedule. Mostly, we will be shooting the landmarks tomorrow.’ Snigdha said, keeping her backpack near the foot of the bed. ‘Let me go and check now’. ‘Shall I wear the peacock blue woollen top and matching slacks tomorrow? I have an amazing blue and fuschia stole to go with it!!’ Dimple offered getting up from bed quickly. At Snigdha’s nod, she promptly got up to unpack her luggage and Snigdha left the room wondering where Dimple’s exhaustion had vanished. Dimple took her work very seriously in spite of appearing flamboyant and casual to others. Snigdha liked her no nonsense approach to work. It would be good for her project, she thought smiling to herself. Nitin was near the main reception where he was filling the register for everyone. After a brief talk with him, Snigdha came to know that he was ordering vegetarian food for everyone, some local fares like rice, rajma, haak which was equivalent of spinach and a local delicacy made out of lotus stems called ‘nadeir yakhein’. Snigdha had no issues with the menu as she was too tired to really relish anything fancy. But she was looking forward to tasting some authentic Kashmiri delights which she had a chance of tasting it once from a Kashmiri classmate at the Film Institute. Her eyes flew open with the sudden silence being broken by chirping of birds in the still morning air, and a youthful voice singing a dogri song, which she couldn’t fathom as it was coming from far. Snigdha got up and stretched her arms above her tousled head. Pushing her hands in her hair to put some semblance of order, she got down and walked down towards the draped window. Pulling the curtain away, she pulled the clasp of the window and opened it to peep outside. The Dal Lake had an early morning shimmer, with the sun rising behind the snow-capped peaks, and the golden light rippling on the nearly still waters. The mist was hanging like a cloak on the far ends of the river, making the town hazy and distant. Snigdha breathed the fresh fragrance of morning air inside her nostrils, fraught with the scent of flowers, weedy water mingled with smoke coming out of huts and houseboats and closed her eyes to the cool morning breeze stirring her hair, and seeping a little inside the room. Snigdha wrapped her arms around her midriff, feeling a little cold in spite of her neck to ankle burgundy coloured soft wool gown. The singing had faded and in its place, she could hear the splashing ‘chhup chhup’ sound of a boat being rowed, as if it was coming closer. She slowly opened her eyes, not knowing how long she stood like that, but felt as if she was not alone. She looked down straight into a pair of velvet brown eyes, quite close to her window. Startled, Snigdha’s heart missed a beat. It seemed as if time had stopped, and all sounds receded in the background. Her eyes focussed on the man, who was tall, well built, sitting with both his hands on the oars on the left and right side of the boat, his eyes transfixed on her, his face half covered by a blue and grey check headgear, that was wrapped like a veil. From the grey cover, she could see his aquiline nose, and smooth clean shaven skin. His eyes appeared dark and brooding from the distance. He was wearing a dark blue Phiran over what seemed like

pathani trousers. Snigdha could feel her mouth drop open at the way he was looking at her, intently as if he knew her. Snigdha’s breath caught in her throat but she could not tear her eyes away from his hypnotic gaze. She could feel his eyes moving all over her and she became conscious of her dishevelled hair, and sleep induced face and her shivering body wrapped in just a gown and nothing else. Suddenly, he turned and lifted a rose from the basket kept near his feet, and threw it at her which she caught as a reflex action. Stunned at his action, Snigdha opened her mouth to say something, but before she could utter a single word, he swiftly started rowing the thin boat and vanished into the mist. Snigdha wasn’t sure but she had noticed his eyes crinkling at the corners as if he had smiled. Her hands curled around the curtains as she craned her neck to see the receding boat. ‘Sidhi! What the hell are you doing? Close that damn window. Its cold’. Dimple rumbled from somewhere under the blanket. Her reverie broken, Snigdha jerked away from the window feeling her cheeks turn hot with embarrassment. Looking down at the dewy rose, she was puzzled at the man’s effrontery. But more than that she was puzzled at her own uncharacteristic reaction to the way the man had looked at her. She took a ragged breath and willed her heart to slow down its frantic palpitation. She looked at Dimple who was fast asleep now. Who was he? A florist? Were all florists so daring in Kashmir? What had made him behave like that? Snigdha got up and went into the small bathroom to freshen up and was shocked to see her face, all rosy and flushed. Had that man, a complete stranger done this to her? For all she knew, he could be a terrorist! But a damn good looking one who had made her behave like a crazy woman! What had made her stare back at him? With effort, Snigdha shrugged the quaint image out of her mind and splashed icy cold water on her face, normalising her instantly and pushed her toothbrush in her mouth. In the meeting, everyone was shivering with cold and had bundled themselves into thick pullovers, jackets and Phirans. Morning’s breakfast had consisted of an assortment of Indian breadlike makhni roti and alu parathawith a couple of spicy vegetable preparations and yoghurt. Some had even ordered fluffy masala omelettes which Snigdha had avoided. Snigdha’s assistant Ruby, came with a sheaf of papers and her laptop, and started discussing the locations lined up and the shot list she had planned. to be continued

The day was spent shooting at some prime locations, taking establishing visuals of the town, and areas like Dal Lake, Nageen Lake, Nishat Garden, Shalimar Garden and Chashme Shahi. The town was buzzing with usual activities, with shops open, selling the hot Kashmiri tea, Kahwa and loads of fruits especially juicy apples and plums. They found some army and police pickets, petrol vans roaming stealthily and some barricades in the middle of the roads, but by and large, the shoot went on peacefully. Next two days they spent in shooting the landscape and various known landmarks. Dimple’s performance improved tremendously after the first day’s nervous fumbles. Snigdha noticed that her fumbles increased much more when Nitin was in the vicinity. Finally, Snigdha mentioned diplomatically to Nitin that Dimple would perform better if too many people did not crowd around during her shoots. Taking her hint, Nitin avoided being on location when Dimple’s anchor links were being shot. Thereafter, Dimple, with her super confident and ‘bindaas’style impressed everyone. She had no qualms sitting on her haunches talking to a runny nosed village boy, or aburqua clad giggling girl, or confidently shooting serious questions at police or army officials. Snigdha watched her face transform from delight to sadness to an alert, sharp enquiring look. She also watched how it was affecting Nitin while previewing the footage at the end of each day. From indifference to absolute intense involvement, Snigdha could see Nitin getting deeply mesmerised by Dimple’s performance. ‘She’s good, isn’t she?’ Snigdha jumped at the catty, venomous tone of Tripti. ‘Oh yes! Indeed, she is!’ Snigdha said proudly. ‘Regret having recommended her? Poor you, little did you realise that she would snatch your beau from right under your eyes!’ Tripti laughed silkily. ‘My beau? What are you talking about? Oh… if you are hinting at Nitin, let me tell you he’s a very close friend. And if what you are saying about Dimple and Nitin is true, I would be the happiest person on earth!’ Snigdha said with satisfaction. ‘Oh really? How magnanimous of you! All of us have noticed how besotted you are with Nitin. And the way he defends you proves that your feeling is reciprocated. What I find intriguing is your close pal Dimple’s behaviour. It’s clear she has eyes only for Nitin. I am sure Nitin will have better sense to be interested in that nitwit.’ Tripti was looking at her long painted nails with full concentration now. ‘Listen Tripti. I have no idea where you have got this weird notion of Nitin and I being romantically… well… as far as Dimple and Nitin are concerned, let’s wait and watch. If something has to happen, it will happen. Whether anyone likes it or not.’ Snigdha finished truculently watching Tripti’s lips turn down in bitterness. Before Tripti could say anything else, Snigdha saw her D. O. P. signalling for her. She hurriedly excused herself, wondering why Tripti was so antagonistic towards her in particular. For a second, Snigdha felt as if Tripti was jealous. Was she secretly in love with Nitin? They have worked together for last couple of years and maybe she has developed feelings for him. Maybe that’s why she was spewing venom.

@onahsunday631 @fridex @pizzaro @froshberry @invincible @individual @hermeenart @oneal @Ritagold......new episode is here oooo

@krizzy @eliboy @frankkay new update is here

[b] still following keenly... Tnks for the beep [/b]

I think she z just jealous

. New Epi z here quyz. General Register; @Khola46 @Wiseman @Ibrams @Pizzaro @Swtharyomi @Wyse-one @Eddy @Delight @Pweety @Mray @Jummybabe @Babe4biola @Sofia @Ritagold @Kuks @Originalannchilexdel @Fridex @Frank @Frankkay @Simzy @Pheranmmie041 @Temmyjoy @Chriswayne @Evanz @Itzshaxee @Mecuze @Skookum @Kingson1 @Donmikie @Kingsbest @T-Dak @Charlywizzy @Charliebryn @Hardeywummy @Japhola @Konphido @Emmyrexx @Adura @Tholartee @Nextangel @Blessedgirl @Ebube @Jenifa @Jclash @Taiwo @Chomyline @Lawman @Tinagabe @Christiana @Itmrabzeez @Johnoscar @Precy @Timmy @Dabcy @Ikeholuwa1 @Besty @Starlet @Okklad @Angeleniola @Ewomazeal @Mizleemah @Blessfelicity222 @Anitcham @Stephanie @Lollybabe1 @Dahcutebae @Rhennyjay @Geeadore @Tiffany1 @Tonia @Hameyeenat @Inemlove @Promzy @Mohjisolah @Jencute @Jenny @Doublewealth @John451 @Kniphemi @Vibratingwind @Emmanesth @Horpheyehmy @Valking1 @Pweety @Kpumpy @Justify @Maurice @Jummy @Thankmic @Christopher @Anita @Phinebraim @Kedike @Kemkit @Gracy @Saintkenz @December12 @Promise @Sylvia @Bsam @Portable @Steph @Aarti @Olaking3 @Harddy @Blakstudd @Prince @Invincible @Mhzzrblayse @Azeeco @Temmymofrosh @Sandra @Sandy @Kaysmart22 @Cherryserah @Sexynikky1994 @Youngestprince @Davick @Semilore @Oyindamola @Dhemilade1 @Mature @Pearl @Roes @Franklin @Kolababs @Hollar @Smilie @Borwerleh @Iksqueency @Loveth @Funmilayo1 @Okklad @Nizzy @Flames @Vict-Vames @Peace @Sirp081 @Kristen @Kingsengine @Aaron @Tony @Ruth @Romancelord @Itzshaxee @Olamy4fun @Abrahamdking @Flamerouz @Crusher @Stanny39 @John @Softtouch @Onahsunday631 @Jeddy @Sonshine @Sirgentle @Vizkid @Hoelhay @Pharm-vickymears @Teesolid @Omoyemmy @Olarach @Daxking @Krizzy @Softie @Holarbordah @Ele @Firstladyontop @Obaby @Sergentmax @Mhizdaofot @Ariketemmy @Saraya @Eminem @Laurasteve299 @vickyola @unyo1 @Nkluv @cynthia20 @pricelessangel @reyhanat @wunmi @best98 @rossi @johnudo @adauche @nobu @somisom @gsoul @peacebright @holakizzo @Gambola @Monadisu @Dazzlingangel @Donyas @C-Roderick @Cookey @Isabella1 @Chisomsophia @Mrfabulous @Henry @Mhizzthessy @Millz @Bishops10 @Kreepyink @Olaniyiadeshina @Gracedkyenny @Hardeyhorlar9 @Holaryinkhar @Inemeka @Abevica @Individual @Olami @Beryl @Youngfellow @Humblelion @Natasha9976 @Hartuny @Emergencia @Paula4eva @GiftGodiva @Divatimmy @Finestberyl @Sapiens @Ahmad @Ele1 @Ferdinard @Festoza006 @Sharpzender @Uncleba426 @Paje @Jenny123 @Pemamezi @Detector @Pweetyfizzy @Willingyung @Napster @Greg-billz @Valentinelv @Hayanfeoluwa @Teju1 @Dgreat @Prestigiousfirstlady @Petersandra121 @Jenny1 @Bryten50 @Fallancy @Rosey @Jimmyjab @Oluwanifemi @Arosunshine @Heartbrokekid @Thosiano @Peterox @Iamsmv @Adegunle3gmail-com @Sparkling-2 @Hoyenikky @Maurice @Lizzytee @Zephyr @Mhizterdimex @Ladywen @Holarmidey @Scriptures @Lollycobra @Hardey1292 @Adeblow23 @Slimolayinkastar @Damzybabe @Adeshewa @Softel @Nifemi @Abradek @Beauty74 @Cizzle @Omolarami @Nazysophy1 @Yemitefestus @Omoniyiola @Inifek @Coolbaby @Nheemot @Deejaygrin @Hitiswell @Fynboy @Sirmike @Aminzy @Vicoch @Sunnyklin20Yahoo-com @Psam @Oshio @Shikoleen @Queencoded @Kimmy @Ifeoma1 @Nobleay @Felixharuna11 @Ibktemi99 @Hayzedefoe @Chidex14 @Classy @Omodemilade59 @Rufus @Ladygrasha @Ennylincoln @Kingz1 @Starlord1 @Noskid @Kodedreal @Petermikel @Frankymario @Olatunjitobi @Pweetylizzyqueen @Olutcoded @Sayrah @Tomtim @Missdammy @Latienco @Bimrach @Mubarak @Mubavak @Adeolaajala1234 @Olalekana69 @Dbest @Skulboy @Beautyqueen @Naomacjoyous @Onyinyessica @Drumsaint @Debbi2nice @Jamesgentility @Megatron @Okiripoto02gmail-com @Rahzycute1 @Hangellah46 @Deltavictory @Kay2ty7 @Praisee @Josephjuliet @Xtopher @Richymore @Temmy744 @Mrmorie @Abosmart @Adfaustina595gmail-com @Adetolaadejoke @Whizjay @Anthcunny @Freeday @Ninny @Abasienyene @Henryjay @Horgzy @Abosmart @Omodemilade59 @Judith @Mercykris @Superstar4real @Sanctus4real @Bolaji2308 @Damzybabe @Profeze1 @Horlarjuwhon @Illusion002 @Royzeray @Oluwatosin @Chinenye5404 @Dharmex @Inifek @Pattiejoe7gmail-com @Opinxymenumento @Bobbidi-boo @Gooddysmart3 @Elijezy @Drumsaint @Oshio @Musterfi @Khaleedwr @Addieola @Chinedueze @Praise22 @Mdsodeeq @Sirjerro @Masterbill @Emileagosu @Kabazi95 @Daintyshewa @Klaussimbo @Peoray @Samnolimit @Babswalexyttyahoo-com @Shania55 @Conspirancy @Chinyenorah @Pharouq00 @Saraya @Blazeb @Virtuous @Amibabe @Mrsolace @Ennyshow @Haryormidey @Mzz_teddy @Daddyd @Cassiewells @Omoshalewa @Nheemot @Rukibaby19 @Abbeygirl25 @Serikibazooka1 @Samnolimit @Ugochisunday @Yusfaty @Muffybaba @Micheal1 @Judiee @Certifiedjx @Wumyte @Jokqees @Coolbaby @Victoriouschild @Temmyluv @Oyefestus @Xtremexamxong @Gamanuel @bidex @bright @sommyangel @amazingbaby @deweny @oyeyemiomolola @hormortiyor @angelauche @holusojihormorborlah @everybody come o:-@;->:->

Your Guess May Be True As Mine!

;-) Forge On!

Interesting..

Let her spew whatever, she just can't do more than a dead rat... Thanks @pixzybee I dey follow the tory twele-twele

two are in love wit one

episode 11 Snigdha spent the evening re-writing few portions of her script as the village, Sonmarg, they had intended to go next day had been blocked. They lined up Khilanmarg quickly and met the ‘Sarpanch’ the village head to select a few people for interviews. This was one such situation that they had been prepared for, therefore Nitin had already talked to local village heads just in case they would need to change locations. Finding victims in Kashmir was not difficult as the entire area bordering Srinagar had been affected by militancy and army cover. After a lot of convincing, Snigdha had agreed to let Srinivasan and Nitin go with the D.O.P. to take the interviews without her though principally she was not comfortable with the decision, yet had relented eventually as the village was threatened by terrorists and also protected by one of the leading separatist group Jung-e-Azadi which was infamous for opposing any kind of press coverage or shooting. The leader of JEA, Sheikh Ali Ahmad had discussed with Nitin on phone about getting all the footage checked before leaving Kashmir.  u

After a nail-biting wait, for more than 12 hours, the team was welcomed late in the evening, everyone looking tensed but unharmed. After trips of hot Kahwa, the team sat huddled together to watch the rushes, one of the most difficult taken so far due to the extreme danger involved in meeting the surrendered militants and some victims at Khilanmarg. Snigdha’s eyes looking intently at young girls’ half covered faces, of weeping widows narrating harrowing tales of rape and carnage, of stony silences of villagers shrouded in white ‘chaddars’, of grating harsh voices of perpetrators of violence half covered with black shawls, talking about their experiences in the camps in the Pakistan-occupied Kashmir, of painful military training programmes, of religious feeds that they were given about the destruction of mosques in India, and about Islam on the verge of getting vanished from the face of earth and many such indoctrination that they were given before they joined hands with the Al Faran group. Snigdha’s eyes suddenly got arrested on a visual of a tall man standing in the group, with a menacing gun hanging from his arm, and a black shawl covering half his body from head to upper thigh. A denim clad leg could be visible. As the camera took a pan shot, Snigdha’s breath got caught in her throat somewhere as she felt as if he was the man from the boat few days ago who had thrown the rose at her. A rose that was still kept hidden inside her bag, lest Dimple would be curious about it. Before she could react, next shot came. Snigdha asked Nitin to play the digitally recorded clip and once again, she could see the man standing straight, lurking in the motley crowd gathered around the terrorist being interviewed, his body tensed and hard, visible even through the semi darkness. She could not forget that proud tilt of his head, and the half-covered face which she found so familiar. A chill slid down Snigdha’s back and she felt anger and disappointment flare inside her seeing the guy from the boat in this crowd, which proved her speculation that he was a terrorist or a part of this gang. After watching the chilling interviews, none of them were in a mood to eat anything. Snigdha congratulated Nitin and Vikram her D.O.P. for the excellent work done that day. Nitin cleared his throat and dropped the bombshell of the day. ‘Tomorrow all of us have to go and meet them.’ ‘What?’ Everyone said in unison. Srinivasan continued, ‘the chief of Jung-e-Azadi wants to see the footage and meet everyone, especially the director.’ ‘But we can’t go!!’ Burst Tripti and Dimple incredulously, for once agreeing on something. ‘We will have to! Otherwise they will seize the entire footage! And we won’t be allowed to go out of Kashmir.’ Nitin said in a worried tone. ‘Oh God! Who told you to interview these barbarians Nitin? We could have reconstructed! It’s all because of this oh-so-important director madam! I just don’t know how all this had been approved!’ Tripti was now tight with anger and tension, fiddling with her lighter. ‘There is no need to be so upset about it.’ Srinivasan interfered and said in his typical Malyalam accent which was more pronounced now due to distress. ‘See, if you don’t want to go… fine. But Snigdha and Ruby will have to accompany us because they have a fair idea who all are involved in the process.’ ‘Thank God!’ Tripti heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Why do they want to meet us?’ Dimple asked in a tensed voice. ‘Have no idea. Maybe for curiosity’s sake.’ ‘Wouldn’t it be dangerous for us?’ Snigdha asked remembering the gun hanging from the arm of the man from boat. ‘I have taken assurance from the JEA leader that no harm will come to us.’ Nitin said, trying to appear confident. Snigdha had already come to a decision. She would go, even if just for curiosity’s sake, to know who that man was, and what was he doing there in the village. She knew it was utterly stupid to jeopardise her team’s safety by agreeing to go and meet these dangerous people, but she had this niggling doubt which she wanted to clear. She wanted to look for the man with the rose and ask him who he was and why he had acted the way he did. ‘Let’s leave around 12ish then, and take the remaining visuals that we have to take of the villages on the way.’ Snigdha’s tone gave a finality to the plan and gradually everyone dispersed. to be continued

The next day dawned, foggy and damp, with nearly everyone tensed. They did not want to talk to the police administration as this would definitely irk the JEA people, and the police would dissuade them from going. Nitin also thought that as they were about to finish their documentary portions, they should get it over and done with before leaving Kashmir. The dramatisation of some scenes were left which they can plan and finish separately, even in Delhi. Snigdha, by habit carried her small sling bag with some bare necessities, her comb, etc. As an afterthought, she carried another shawl and covered herself with that. Today she had dawned a maroon coloured Phiran on a loose Patiala salwar, with thermal inner wear and her soft leather pumps. She had tied her long hair with a dark dupatta in a Kashmiri style, with the knot behind her head. Only her gold studs were peeping out of her small ears. She had stuffed a pair of woollen gloves inside her purse and was ready to face anything. As they approached the village, Snigdha’s sharp eyes observed that the population was thinning gradually, fewer habitation visible, wooden houses getting fewer and fewer, and the road lined with thick trees going deeper into the forest. A dark, dingy village loomed large in front of them, a single petromax lamp hanging from a tea shop near the opening of the village, few people sitting huddled over bonfire with the kangdi they carried inside their voluminous Phiran. The fog nearly all but swallowed them, but for the golden embers of the bonfire which flickered on their faces. Their SUV stopped near the tea shop. Suddenly, out of the dark, few armed figures separated from the shadows and came towards them. Snigdha’s heart started beating with anticipation and fear and she felt Ruby’s fingers clutching her arm. Nitin got down and spoke with them in undertones. Nitin returned soon and asked all of them to get down as they had to walk down a few steps to reach their destination. Nitin pressed her shoulders reassuringly and covered both the girls protectively from the armed men by walking with them. They entered a hut, with wooden floors, surrounded by trees. Inside the hut a few men were sitting on the floor. One burly man was sitting on a wooden chair, a pipe of hukka in his hands. A rickety TV and an old-fashioned VCR was kept on a stand. Nitin went closer to the man in the chair and lifted his hand in a salaam and introduced himself. An interpreter translated for the man in the chair who barked his reply in a grating voice. ‘Janab, we have digitally recorded the interviews which can be seen on your TV after we connect it through a cable. We can’t use the VCR as we have not recorded on a video camera with tapes.’ Nitin explained patiently in Hindi to the chief’s interpreter. Chief nodded after a long silence without saying anything. While Nitin was connecting the playback of the camera to the TV, Snigdha quickly scanned the room. The dimness in the room obstructed Snigdha’s view of all the people, but her swift survey revealed that the man with the rose was not there. Young men in the age of 20-30 were standing around the man who looked like the leader. Mostly, everyone looked aggressive, some had beard, some had stubbles, faces were fully or partially covered and everyone had a gun hanging from their arm or shoulders. Some were wearing traditional pathan suits, whereas some were in jackets and scruffy denims.

Soon the footage played on TV and everyone’s attention got riveted. The leader suddenly asked Nitin to replay a section. Soon after he started saying something to Nitin who retaliated strongly. Snigdha tried to understand the Kashmiri the man was speaking. Thereafter followed a heated argument between Nitin, the leader and the man who was interpreting. Before they could react, they were surrounded by the men in guns, and the leader stood up threateningly, and came towards Snigdha, who had till then been standing at the back, not wanting to be close to them. ‘What is going on?’ Snigdha asked Nitin in a fierce whisper as he reached her protectively. Nitin who had come close to the two girls, said between gritted teeth,’ We have been made a fool. These people are not from Jung-e-Azadi but belong to the deadly Al Faran. JEA must have planned this. They want to destroy one of the interviews saying that the terrorist shown in the footage is now an informer of the police. And they do not want him to be highlighted.’ ‘Oh God! Then tell him we will not use his interview!’ Snigdha said under her breath. ‘No. They want us to delete the whole footage. I suggested them exactly what you just said but… ’ Nitin once again tried to reason it out with them by saying the same thing again to the leader. Interpreter relayed the message. The leader’s body tensed with anger and he shouted something, after which there was a major scuffle as two men tried to hold Nitin and Srinavasan by their arms. Suddenly, all hell broke. The men started hitting Nitin and Srinavasan. Lot of shouting started happening. Snigdha could hear feet running towards the hut with men’s loud voices in the background. Heart in her mouth, Snigdha raised her voice and asked them to stop. But before she could see any response something hit her hard on the back of head, making her head reel with pain, and felt sudden blackness envelop her, sounds surrounding her going farther and farther away. When she opened her eyes, she could see nothing except darkness all around her. She tried to get up but fell down wincing with pain, making her head reel. She realised that her hands and feet were tied with rope. She felt the ground below her body with her feet and could feel hard ground below. Gradually, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she could see that she was lying on the ground of a small square room, with just one small window on one side, which had wooden lattices which were closed right now with faint light seeping in. Where was she? Where were the others? Had she been kidnapped by the most fierce, unpopular terrorist group of Kashmir? Had Jung-e-Azadi helped them kidnap her? She had always thought that JEA was a political party and during her research she never got the hint that they would be so closely associated with the terrorist groups. Her head started pounding with pain as the questions started crowding her mind. Her throat felt dry. She needed water. She opened her mouth to shout, when suddenly she heard the door rattling and it was pushed inside to let two people come in. One was a fat, stout woman in a long Phiran, who had a metal plate and a metal tumbler in one hand and a blanket in the other. The other, taller, slimmer figure was of a man standing in the shadows. The woman said something in a hushed voice and crouched down to keep the plate and blanket on the ground beside her feet. Snigdha’s wrists were untied. She sat down on her haunches and rubbed her aching, sore wrists.

@onahsunday631 @fridex @pizzaro @froshberry @invincible @individual @hermeenart @oneal @ritagold ……new episode is here oooo

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Eyaa..sorry..God will save u guys

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sorry o, God will save u

episode 12 ‘Who are you people? Why am I tied like this? Where are my friends?’ Snigdha banged one question after the other in Hindi. The woman shook her head and backed out slowly, going out of the room. The man waited till the woman had left, then came inside closing the door behind him. Snigdha took a swift breath in panic at this gesture and sucked her breath sharply when she recognised the tall guy. ‘Oh God! Its you!’ She said, horror making her eyes go wide. ‘Yes, its me.’ The man’s deep voice responded. He was speaking impeccable Hindi, without any trace of Kashmiri accent. Snigdha raised her head and said accusingly, ‘You are a terrorist! How dare you kidnap me? What have I done?’ ‘You haven’t done anything, but Al Faran needs you.’ Snigdha noticed that he had not denied that he was a terrorist. Suddenly, he took out a small emergency battery light from inside his long Phiran, and switched it on, keeping it near the window, on the ground. Bluish white light spread inside the room, giving an eerie look to the entire place. Snigdha quickly looked at him as he straightened, noticing his long, strong limbs encased in denims and boots. Her eyes moved up to his face, which was half covered still. ‘Needs me? What for? Snigdha’s voice was incredulous.’ ‘The chief’s brother Qatar-Ul-Rehman is in police custody for the last few months. He was receiving arms from the battalion in Azad Kashmir when he was arrested. You are a hostage of Al Faran till the J&K administration and government releases Rehman.’ The man said in a flat voice. ‘But why me? I am not important!’ Snigdha’s voice was furious with anger now. The man knelt near her and the veil covering his face fell down. A strong, Chiselled Kashmiri looking face emerged, fine aquiline nose, broad forehead, square jaws, a firm chin with a deep cleft, wavy dark brown hair swept backwards, and eyes, that she could feel were of light brown colour glittering in the bluish light from the lamp. His complexion was burnt copper hued, which at one point must have been as fair as the Kashmiri complexion. While Snigdha was watching him, a slow smile curved his full lips and she Realised that she had been staring at him. He had definitely the most handsome face she had ever seen in a long time. The look he gave her made her heart flutter erratically, and her blood course furiously, making her face flush with heat. She chided herself to stop behaving like an imbecile.

Love in that kind of situation? Hmm

‘Why you? Well I can say that you have been kidnapped because you are young, healthy, an important citizen of India, and a retired army man’s daughter. They will definitely hope to strike this bargain.’ His cold, clinical voice made Snigdha scared. Something in her expression must have shown her fear, because he suddenly stood up and said in a gruff voice, ‘Listen I have come to help you, not harm you. I don’t want you to ever move away from this hut. When the time comes to meet the chief, be calm and try not to overreact. You will be in real danger if you try to run away. Do not wander away. I will keep a watch on you and make sure, you are safe, till the needful is done by the government… ’ Snigdha interrupted him bitterly. ‘Why should I do anything you ask me to do? You yourself are a hard-core terrorist betraying your own country! I am no less safe with you than I am with others. Just because you are more educated than others and can speak in a more civilised manner… ’ ‘Just shut up!’ The man snapped in English, making Snigdha gape at him with mouth open. The man continued firmly in English, ‘Do as I say or be prepared for worst possible consequences. Do not come to me running after that, do you hear? If you are alive that is…’ ‘Who the hell are you to dictate to me what I should do or not do?’ Snigdha’s hackles had risen and she could feel her face turn hot with suppressed emotion. ‘You are a fool to behave like this.’ The man said, his lips pressed hard, and a frown marring his brow. With that he pulled her up with his hands. Snigdha stumbled due to her feet being tied and felt herself lose her balance, but was caught by strong arms and steadied. She realised that she had come too close to the man, with her outstretched hands clutching his woollen Phiran, feeling his hard chest, the rippling muscles and heavy beating heart. She was so startled by the impact that she could just stand there looking at him stunned, her breathing heavy, her hands flat on his chest, the sensation of her hands on his solid chest feeling somehow good, making her fingers curl and grip his Phiran slightly. An undercurrent of something electrifying passed between them, startling both of them with its fierceness. Her stunned eyes fixed at his expression, which were intense, roaming all over her face, his expression arrested by her lovely eyes. Eyes locked, she did not realise how long they stared into each other’s eyes, perhaps seconds that seemed like aeons. Her breathing quickened when she saw his hands release her arms and pull away the dupatta slowly, that had loosened and was hiding half her face. Her long hair cascaded down her front, loose silky strands coming out of her braid. She felt his eyes on her face and uncovered hair, a slow smile spreading on his lips. Snigdha bristled with anger under his scrutiny and tried to pull away. His large hands came forward and cupped her shoulders, his fingers lifting the loose silky strands and pushing it away, the gesture tingling her skin and making her heart somersault. Before his roaming hands could reach her face, she pulled away quickly. He threw his head and laughed deeply and stepped back, his laughter mocking her, as if challenging her to admit she was scared of him. Snigdha took refuge in anger to hide the reckless feelings churning inside her body. ‘How dare you touch me… you animal… ! I hate people like you who betray their country and do heinous crimes. And I am going to find a way to get out of this!’ Snigdha was breathing heavily, unconsciously rubbing her arms where he had held her firmly, the warm imprint of his hands still there.

. New Epi z here quyz. General Register; @Khola46 @Wiseman @Ibrams @Pizzaro @Swtharyomi @Wyse-one @Eddy @Delight @Pweety @Mray @Jummybabe @Babe4biola @Sofia @Ritagold @Kuks @Originalannchilexdel @Fridex @Frank @Frankkay @Simzy @Pheranmmie041 @Temmyjoy @Chriswayne @Evanz @Itzshaxee @Mecuze @Skookum @Kingson1 @Donmikie @Kingsbest @T-Dak @Charlywizzy @Charliebryn @Hardeywummy @Japhola @Konphido @Emmyrexx @Adura @Tholartee @Nextangel @Blessedgirl @Ebube @Jenifa @Jclash @Taiwo @Chomyline @Lawman @Tinagabe @Christiana @Itmrabzeez @Johnoscar @Precy @Timmy @Dabcy @Ikeholuwa1 @Besty @Starlet @Okklad @Angeleniola @Ewomazeal @Mizleemah @Blessfelicity222 @Anitcham @Stephanie @Lollybabe1 @Dahcutebae @Rhennyjay @Geeadore @Tiffany1 @Tonia @Hameyeenat @Inemlove @Promzy @Mohjisolah @Jencute @Jenny @Doublewealth @John451 @Kniphemi @Vibratingwind @Emmanesth @Horpheyehmy @Valking1 @Pweety @Kpumpy @Justify @Maurice @Jummy @Thankmic @Christopher @Anita @Phinebraim @Kedike @Kemkit @Gracy @Saintkenz @December12 @Promise @Sylvia @Bsam @Portable @Steph @Aarti @Olaking3 @Harddy @Blakstudd @Prince @Invincible @Mhzzrblayse @Azeeco @Temmymofrosh @Sandra @Sandy @Kaysmart22 @Cherryserah @Sexynikky1994 @Youngestprince @Davick @Semilore @Oyindamola @Dhemilade1 @Mature @Pearl @Roes @Franklin @Kolababs @Hollar @Smilie @Borwerleh @Iksqueency @Loveth @Funmilayo1 @Okklad @Nizzy @Flames @Vict-Vames @Peace @Sirp081 @Kristen @Kingsengine @Aaron @Tony @Ruth @Romancelord @Itzshaxee @Olamy4fun @Abrahamdking @Flamerouz @Crusher @Stanny39 @John @Softtouch @Onahsunday631 @Jeddy @Sonshine @Sirgentle @Vizkid @Hoelhay @Pharm-vickymears @Teesolid @Omoyemmy @Olarach @Daxking @Krizzy @Softie @Holarbordah @Ele @Firstladyontop @Obaby @Sergentmax @Mhizdaofot @Ariketemmy @Saraya @Eminem @Laurasteve299 @vickyola @unyo1 @Nkluv @cynthia20 @pricelessangel @reyhanat @wunmi @best98 @rossi @johnudo @adauche @nobu @somisom @gsoul @peacebright @holakizzo @Gambola @Monadisu @Dazzlingangel @Donyas @C-Roderick @Cookey @Isabella1 @Chisomsophia @Mrfabulous @Henry @Mhizzthessy @Millz @Bishops10 @Kreepyink @Olaniyiadeshina @Gracedkyenny @Hardeyhorlar9 @Holaryinkhar @Inemeka @Abevica @Individual @Olami @Beryl @Youngfellow @Humblelion @Natasha9976 @Hartuny @Emergencia @Paula4eva @GiftGodiva @Divatimmy @Finestberyl @Sapiens @Ahmad @Ele1 @Ferdinard @Festoza006 @Sharpzender @Uncleba426 @Paje @Jenny123 @Pemamezi @Detector @Pweetyfizzy @Willingyung @Napster @Greg-billz @Valentinelv @Hayanfeoluwa @Teju1 @Dgreat @Prestigiousfirstlady @Petersandra121 @Jenny1 @Bryten50 @Fallancy @Rosey @Jimmyjab @Oluwanifemi @Arosunshine @Heartbrokekid @Thosiano @Peterox @Iamsmv @Adegunle3gmail-com @Sparkling-2 @Hoyenikky @Maurice @Lizzytee @Zephyr @Mhizterdimex @Ladywen @Holarmidey @Scriptures @Lollycobra @Hardey1292 @Adeblow23 @Slimolayinkastar @Damzybabe @Adeshewa @Softel @Nifemi @Abradek @Beauty74 @Cizzle @Omolarami @Nazysophy1 @Yemitefestus @Omoniyiola @Inifek @Coolbaby @Nheemot @Deejaygrin @Hitiswell @Fynboy @Sirmike @Aminzy @Vicoch @Sunnyklin20Yahoo-com @Psam @Oshio @Shikoleen @Queencoded @Kimmy @Ifeoma1 @Nobleay @Felixharuna11 @Ibktemi99 @Hayzedefoe @Chidex14 @Classy @Omodemilade59 @Rufus @Ladygrasha @Ennylincoln @Kingz1 @Starlord1 @Noskid @Kodedreal @Petermikel @Frankymario @Olatunjitobi @Pweetylizzyqueen @Olutcoded @Sayrah @Tomtim @Missdammy @Latienco @Bimrach @Mubarak @Mubavak @Adeolaajala1234 @Olalekana69 @Dbest @Skulboy @Beautyqueen @Naomacjoyous @Onyinyessica @Drumsaint @Debbi2nice @Jamesgentility @Megatron @Okiripoto02gmail-com @Rahzycute1 @Hangellah46 @Deltavictory @Kay2ty7 @Praisee @Josephjuliet @Xtopher @Richymore @Temmy744 @Mrmorie @Abosmart @Adfaustina595gmail-com @Adetolaadejoke @Whizjay @Anthcunny @Freeday @Ninny @Abasienyene @Henryjay @Horgzy @Abosmart @Omodemilade59 @Judith @Mercykris @Superstar4real @Sanctus4real @Bolaji2308 @Damzybabe @Profeze1 @Horlarjuwhon @Illusion002 @Royzeray @Oluwatosin @Chinenye5404 @Dharmex @Inifek @Pattiejoe7gmail-com @Opinxymenumento @Bobbidi-boo @Gooddysmart3 @Elijezy @Drumsaint @Oshio @Musterfi @Khaleedwr @Addieola @Chinedueze @Praise22 @Mdsodeeq @Sirjerro @Masterbill @Emileagosu @Kabazi95 @Daintyshewa @Klaussimbo @Peoray @Samnolimit @Babswalexyttyahoo-com @Shania55 @Conspirancy @Chinyenorah @Pharouq00 @Saraya @Blazeb @Virtuous @Amibabe @Mrsolace @Ennyshow @Haryormidey @Mzz_teddy @Daddyd @Cassiewells @Omoshalewa @Nheemot @Rukibaby19 @Abbeygirl25 @Serikibazooka1 @Samnolimit @Ugochisunday @Yusfaty @Muffybaba @Micheal1 @Judiee @Certifiedjx @Wumyte @Jokqees @Coolbaby @Victoriouschild @Temmyluv @Oyefestus @Xtremexamxong @Gamanuel @bidex @bright @sommyangel @amazingbaby @deweny @oyeyemiomolola @hormortiyor @angelauche @holusojihormorborlah @everybody come o',,'

Don’t do anything foolish.’ He said once again in English, making her look sharply at him. ‘And no more questions and outbursts. Considering that you are educated and a film-maker, I would expect some maturity from you. Pay heed to my advice. In the evening chief would want to meet you. He has butchered more than 200 people and would have no problems making you his next victim. And Yes… don’t starve yourself. Making yourself weak and ill won’t help the mission. I will be around.’ He lifted his hand in a salaam, looked at her for a fraction of a second longer and then vanished into the darkness outside. Snigdha untied her feet swiftly and tentatively walked near the door to see outside when she saw two massive men guarding her hut, their lethal guns shining in the darkness. She saw the boat guy murmuring something to the two men who turned to look at her. She quickly pushed away from the door. Within a second, the door was slammed shut on her face. Snigdha sat down dejectedly and looked down at the plate. There were a fewchapattis and some vegetables. The drink was some warm salty concoction which gave immense relief to her aching throat. Food was lukewarm by now but she was hungry enough to gobble it all up within five minutes. Later she lay down on the rough ground, to think over the day’s events. She had been abducted. Made a hostage. Entire country must be aware of it by now. Even her family. She felt a frisson of worry for her Mom who was always sceptical of her taking up such hazardous projects in the past. This time she knew the entire blame would fall on her because not only had she chosen a difficult subject but had insisted on interviewing real terrorists and militants. And she was somehow suffering from Stockholm syndrome, feeling attracted towards a terrorist who belonged to the most deadly outfit in the entire subcontinent. He might be educated and polished but that had become the norm these days, where educated engineers and software professionals were becoming terrorists and joining Jehad. Snigdha remembered the polished English and Hindi that the man spoke, recalled the way he looked at her and behaved with her as if he had every right to do so. She remembered the intense look in his eyes when he had caught her in his arms. She shivered with revulsion! Or was it excitement? Snigdha couldn’t sleep in the dingy dark room, on the rock hard floor. The blanket was not enough to warm her in the cold hut. The fat woman had once again tied her hands, although Snigdha had tried to convince her that she can’t run away with the armed terrorists guarding her. The woman had turned a deaf ear and left after tying her hands at the back and taking the plate away. After a couple of hours she felt like weeping in frustration, hating the man who had shown a softer side of himself while still being a terrorist that he was. Now that she had time to think, she was sure he had been spying on her, the other day on the shikara, making it easier for him to create a trap for all of them, in which poor Nitin had fallen so easily. Thinking of him, she wondered where the team was, wondering if they were also tied up like hostages, then remembered what the wretched man had said that only she had been taken as a hostage. She wondered if her film would get jeopardised. Thankfully they had finished most of the shoot except the reconstruction of some scenes to make the film dramatic. She just hoped her teammates were safe and secure. She felt tears well in her eyes, which she tried wiping with her shoulder, but was not very successful in doing. Suddenly, she heard a scuttling noise. She tried to get up. Her sobbing stopped instantly and her eyes dilated when she saw the source of the sound. A mouse moving in the corner, where now she could see some cardboard boxes kept. She shuddered with revulsion. What if it would come near her? As if in answer to her fear, the mouse suddenly turned towards her, his beady black eyes looking menacingly at her. She opened her mouth to scream, but closed it when the door was rattled and a number of people entered. Snigdha turned her head sideways to avoid the bright light shone at her by a searchlight that one of them was carrying. She saw the man she hated most come forward. His head covered but his face was visible. He came near her and slit open the ropes on her wrists and feet with a sharp knife. He was not looking at her, but lifted her by her hand somewhat gently, his big dry warm hand engulfing her smaller one. When she stood on her wobbly feet, she felt something pressed in her hand. It was a hanky. Before she could react, he turned on his heels and went out, shouting something in the local dialect (Hato phatiro ye koor travyoon yalla te anyoon sardaaras nish) (Listen idiots...untie the girl and bring her to the chief). Others also turned to leave. A tall, burly man in beard turned towards her and said in broken Hindi, ‘Come outside. The chief wants to meet you.’ Snigdha clutched the hanky and followed them. She saw her flat leather pumps kept near the door. She slipped her bruised feet inside the pumps wincing in pain.

When she came outside, she looked at the hanky in the waning light of the evening. It was a clean, white handkerchief. She rubbed her grubby, wet cheeks with it, and noticed the initials monogrammed at the corner, R.K. So his name starts with R. She pushed it inside her Phiran pocket and became aware of her surroundings. She was standing in a clearing surrounded by huts all around, with no one except the men accompanying R.K. who were all scattered here and there toting guns. Snigdha realised that they were waiting for her. She went towards the jeep, which had men sitting with guns and face covered. Everything felt so unreal. She was gently pushed by the fat woman towards the front seat of the jeep. She saw R.K. sitting at the wheel of the jeep, looking straight ahead, with his big hands on the wheel. She went and sat beside him. Then another young guy pushed her and sat beside her, brushing her shoulders with his, making her skin crawl with repulsion. The man beside her said something in local dialect and the whole group guffawed crudely. She saw R.K.’s hands grip the wheel, his jaws becoming rigid. So they had cracked some crude joke at her. But why hadn’t R.K. laughed? Did he really have a conscience? Wasn’t he like his fellow terrorists? He started the jeep with a jerk, banging his feet hard on the accelerator. The jeep shot forward. She had to hold on to the seat lest she fell on either of the men sitting next to her. She loathed herself for noticing the warm brush of R.K.’s arm on the sides of her thigh, every time he changed gears. In the dim light, she noticed the long tapering fingers gripping the wheel. They were an artist’s hands not a killer’s. She saw an expensive watch peeping out of his sleeve. She turned slightly and looked from under her lashes at the other man chewing tobacco and spitting it on his left side in a typically rustic manner. His beard was unkempt, his clothes shabby. She looked away. The boys at the back laughed again at something. She noticed the difference in R.K. and the rest of them. What made him work with these people, she wondered. How come he was so different from most of them? Had he also killed innocents? The very thought made her cold with fear.

@fridex @pizzaro @froshberry @invincible @individual @hermeenart @oneal @ritagold @invincible @individual ……new episode is here oooo

@krizzy @eliboy @frankkay new update is here

Am enjoying this

Hmmm

Nice 1... still following

Ride on

[b] Snigdha should not even try fall in love with..... well still following [/b]

Snigdha, I knew the environment wasn't save for u quys to come shoot a muvie but now I'll only pray dat u make it out of that place safe! And if I were u, I'll use dat assassin quy to my advantaqe. . @Pixzybee 9ice work dear...

hmmm

enjoying dis, ryd on

episode 13 After a 15 minutes drive, they reached a double-storied building. The bearded man got down and nudged her with his gun, to follow him towards the building. Snigdha suddenly felt the chilling finger of fear glide down her spine. What if they tried to molest her? She wouldn’t be able to do a thing. She looked at the murderers surrounding her, who had killed 100-odd innocents each, without batting an eyelid. How could she withstand their mass attack? Where would she run to? How could she save herself? Her body had started shivering by now and suddenly she felt a firm hand pressing her back. Startled she looked up to see the somber gaze of R.K. fusing with her damp ones, nodding his head briefly as if to convey her something pushing her gently, he shouted something at the man with the searchlight. Immediately, it was shown near her feet so that she could walk properly in the dark. She could feel that the people were obedient to his orders. Was he also one of the leaders? She noticed that he walked with his gun hidden like the surrendered militants she had seen in Srinagar. He had a straight, dignified gait, with head held high at an arrogant angle. Snigdha rudely stopped her thoughts from focussing on him and rebuked herself for getting distracted about a criminal who had brought her in this pitiable and dangerous situation. 

As soon as she entered the house, she noticed the presence of electricity in the house. She wrapped herself with herdupatta, covering her head with it. They entered a sparsely furnished hall. The chief, a 50 something large man, was sitting with another man on an old haggard, velvet sofa which had seen better days. Wearing a gray pathani suit and well-worn shoes, his head was covered in a red and white chequered scarf very typically Muslim in style. Snigdha noticed that he had kohl smeared dark menacing eyes. The chief’s mouth moved in a semblance of a smile, baring his crooked, tobacco stained teeth as he looked at her from head to toe. Snigdha’s toes curled with revulsion in her shoes but she looked at him straight in the eyes. He spoke in broken Hindi to her. ‘So Madam, how are you? I hope my boys looked after you well. Well Roshan did you look after our guest well?’ He winked at R.K. His name was Roshan? Roshan shrugged and asked her to sit. ‘Roshan is the most educated person in our group and has deep affiliation with the Jung-e-Azadi Party. He is our spokesperson these days.’ Chief said proudly. ‘Ma’am, please sit down. Our chief will explain what you have to do.’ Roshan said abruptly without looking at her. The information given by the chief washed over her, making her understand a lot of things regarding Roshan and his well-bred personality. Being attached with the JEA Party and its activities would definitely make him miles apart from being just a terrorist and definitely more dangerous and powerful. ‘What we would like to do is to take your videotaped message for the Indian Government. I hope you are willing.’ The chief looked at her with a hidden warning. ‘What if I don’t?’ Snigdha said impulsively. Immediately, two gunned men came forward, pointing the menacing nuzzles at her. The chief raised his hands and signalled them to back off. Roshan looked at her with a frown. She raised her chin in defiance and locked her gaze with him. Before she turned away, a half smile hovered on his lips, and his eyes shone with amusement. How dared he laugh at her? ‘Listen Madam, please cooperate with us. We want to release you without injury. For that you will have to do as you are told. The authorities will want the proof that you are fine. So, please get ready for shooting.’ The chief said with a voice like gravel. Snigdha reluctantly sat on a chair stiffly. After that it was as if she was an insect pinned on a board, with many people diagnosing her. She had to stand by the whitewashed wall and get herself photographed. A light was flashed in her eyes, blinding her for a moment and a sickly looking guy came forward to focus a small handycam on her. Snigdha was surprised to see the modern gadget of the camera and sungun light. Men all around were whispering and snickering. She found herself stiffen, none of the muscle moving in her body. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Roshan came and stood in front of her, looking at her intently, his warm brown eyes looking straight at her, reading the expression of panic and bewilderment, and gave her a slow wide smile. Snigdha was blinded by the 100 watt sincere smile that was directed at her. The smile had warmed his eyes, crinkling at the corners, the smooth lean cheeks carved with grooves, which made him look drop dead gorgeous. Spontaneously, she also smiled. Thus, ended her trial where they were able to capture her smiling video and photograph. Snigdha bristled with irritation at her behaviour and felt confused at her own reactions towards Roshan. After that she was also asked to give a message that was video recorded. She had to say how fine she was, and request them to do whatever the Al Faran group wanted. She felt like weeping by the end of it, but managed to control herself.

That night she couldn’t sleep. Snippets from her life in Delhi, Bhopal and Pachmari flashed in her mind. She briefly thought of Vikas but immediately shut her mind to any thought about him. She was better off without the bitter memories clogging her life. She thought about her project. What would happen to it, if she is not freed? She hoped Nitin would have taken over not letting the project suffer. She remembered the news of hostages captured by various terrorist groups, and recalled the beheading of a foreign journalist. She shuddered with cold fear and hugged herself under the blanket. Her hands had been freed after Roshan had told the chief how timid and helpless she was. Who the hell was he to take her side? If he was so sympathetic, then why didn’t he rebel? Why was he working with such hard-core criminals? He looked educated, cultured, from a good family. Who was he? What was he doing here fighting for Jehad? Snigdha’s head started pounding with unanswered questions. She closed her eyes in sheer exhaustion and didn’t realise when she fell in a fitful slumber. Next morning, she awoke with a start, when something was thrown in her room and the door banged shut. She got up, every muscle in her slim body protesting, and went close to the bag. It was her small backpack. How did this come here? Who brought it here? She frowned with puzzlement. Then she pulled it closer and zipped it open. Atleast now she would have fresh clothes and toiletteries. Peeping inside, she found out that not everything was there. It had been packed hastily with her toilet bag and a couple of jeans, sweat shirts and underclothes. Her face suffused with colour, thinking whether it was Roshan who had packed her things, touching her inner wear. This meant that the team could be still there, otherwise her belongings wouldn’t be lying there. She sighed with exasperation and took out her tooth brush, paste and face wash and banged at the door. Immediately, it was opened by a young teenager, whose head was covered in ahijab, and was wearing a voluminous Phiran and salwar. In the early morning glow, Snigdha could see the pristine beauty of the girl, biting cold outside making her cheeks rosy. ‘Is there a rest room or bathroom somewhere? Could I get some water to wash myself.’ Snigdha asked her softly. The girl spoke shyly in broken Hindi, ‘Yes. Come here.’ She stepped outside only to stop dead in her tracks, noticing the film of snow all over. It had snowed during the night and the entire ground and tree tops were covered in snow flakes, making the surrounding pristine white, with just footmarks on the ground where people had walked. The girl took Snigdha near a tree where a bucket of water was kept, with a chipped plastic mug. The girl pointed towards the thicket some furlongaway from the place, and showed her a metal make shift toilet. Snigdha opened her mouth to voice her opinion, but closed it fast, because she knew there was no point in throwing tantrums. She was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by snow covered thick jungle, amidst deadliest terrorists of India, at their total mercy and cribbing about toilet facilities would not help her get free tomorrow.

Snigdha dipped the mug in the water and shrieked. The water was ice cold. Gritting her teeth, she filled the mug with water and started washing her face and brushing her teeth which were chattering badly by now. Looking around, she found that it was a foggy morning, with the weak glow of the sun peaking from the Chinaar trees, her hut barely visible from this distance. She could just make out the hazy figures of men walking in the thick wood, probably attending to nature calls or maybe guarding the area. Her eyes darted here and there in the hope of finding a familiar face, then berating herself for her stupidity, she rinsed her mouth and decided to try the metal loo afterall. No point in ignoring the inevitable. Her leather bound feet made squeaky noise on the snow covered leaves strewn on the ground, which were soggy from the snowfall that probably happened in the night. She heard birds chirping and twisted her neck to see the tall Chinaar tree shading the path, also called ‘booune’ locally. She noticed smoke coming out of a couple of houses shrouded in fog. But she didn’t spot any women around. As she approached the toilet, she could now see a couple of gun toting men walking stealthily on the grounds, guarding the area with sharp alert eyes. ‘Where is everyone? I don’t see any women around… ’ Snigdha asked the teenager once she was back. ‘They don’t come out Madam. They are not allowed to.’ Girl said quietly. Snigdha peered at the solemn face of the girl, noticing for the first time a sombre maturity on her countenance, strange for a teenager. ‘What is your name? Who are you?’ Snigdha asked. ‘I am Zainab. The room in which you are staying belongs to me and my mother Tasleema.’ ‘You mean you have rented it to these terrorists?’ Snigdha asked cautiously. ‘Don’t call them terrorists Madam.’ She looked around in fear and her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Why? They are terrorists. They are terrorising people to achieve their ends and the means to achieve them are violent, illegal and inhuman.’ Snigdha’s voice was full of unleashed anger and hatred. She missed the look of alarm on Zainab’s face, which she was darting here and there.

@fridex @pizzaro @froshberry @invincible @individual @hermeenart @oneal @ritagold @invincible @individual @onahsunday631 ……new episode is here oooo

@krizzy @eliboy @frankkay @Hayzedefoe @Delight @MarAngel......come oooooo

@pixzybee e pains me sey I no dey around ystdy to comment on ur update sake of sey I qo hunt for bush meat for inside sambisa forest. But thank qwad am back anywy. Hey quys! Who cares for bush-meat.??. (lonqer-throat no dey here ni.??.)

Great one..welcome back dear

Interesting

Enjoying This.. !

;-) Continew Dear!

hmmmn..... just through with d catching up..... so lets go

terrorist

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She continued, ‘If I were in your place, I would inform the police and have each one of them arrested.’ ‘Madam please do not speak things so loudly. Do you know what they will do? They will kill me and moj the way they killed my pidar and biradaarand forced us to give our hut and work for them last year.’ Her voice had become muffled, and her eyes were brimming with tears. Snigdha was speechless with shock to hear this. The terrorists had killed her whole family? And here she was reprimanding her for renting her hut. This girl must have seen terrible atrocities in her lifetime which city kids can’t even imagine. She wanted to do something to console Zainab but she felt helpless. How could one console someone who had lost her whole family in such a gruesome manner? She sat on the stone bench near the bucket and washed her hands in the icy cold water trying not to think about the predicament of these two helpless women in the mid of the cruel terrorists. She wished she could take a bath, wash off the places on her body where these terrorists had touched her, even Roshan. She was about to get up when suddenly the door of the nearest hut opened. And a youngish bearded man came out. He stretched his arms, yawned, and looked around him. His eyes fell on them. Looking around briefly, he beckoned Zainab. Seeing Zainab walk towards him, Snigdha asked fiercely, ‘Where are you going Zainab? ‘Madam. You go to your hut now. I have to do as he says.’ Saying this, Zainab quietly walked towards the hut. Snigdha got up swiftly and caught her arm asking, ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Once these people enter our homes, our mind, body and soul are all their property. We can do nothing about it except agree to it, otherwise we will also be killed.’ ‘You could take help from the police or the army.’ Snigdha said. ‘But we had. It was of no use. The police thought my pidarwas one of these men. They tortured moj. We had to finally accept what these people offered. Atleast we are alive. I have to think about my old mother, Madam. You please go inside your hut. There are guards all over keeping an eye on you.’ Saying this, Zainab walked slowly towards the hut. The man held Zainab’s arm, looked towards Snigdha once and entered the hut, closing the door firmly behind her. Snigdha couldn’t believe her eyes. She had only read about this in news. This was sheer violation of human rights and exploitation of these hapless women, who were like helpless lambs going for slaughter. She felt tears pricking her eyes thinking about the plight of this little teenager, whose dreams have been shredded into pieces. On one hand, she fears for her mother’s life and on the other hand, she lets herself be used willingly. After all where could she go? Her cry for help and safety from the military or the police was in vain. Would they come for her help now? Or would they also treat her like a piece of flesh, to be beaten and used? How many others were using her? Was Roshan amongst the men raping and using her and other helpless girls like her? Her blood started boiling with anger. She had to do something. She desperately looked around her. Surprisingly, she found herself alone, the surroundings getting more foggy as each minute passed. She realised that no security was around. Probably, they considered her dumb and helpless, that’s why she was sent with a mere teenager. This seemed the perfect time to do what she intended to do. Quickly without making much sound, Snigdha walked towards her hut. Either due to the thickening mist or because they genuinely felt she was harmless. She couldn’t find anyone guarding her hut, thus making it easier for her to slip inside and quickly grab her backpack which already had her meagre belongings. Stuffing her toilet bag in it, she peered outside carefully, finding none around, swiftly moved towards what she thought was the looming thick woods. Not believing her luck of not getting nabbed by someone on her way, Snigdha heaved a sigh of relief, and hid herself behind thick bushes. Peering in the deepening mist, she thought this was the ideal time to run… run for her life. She edgily started walking towards the unknown, trying her best to put her toes forward and not walk on the balls of her heel, making as less noise as possible on the wet and slippery ground, she slowly turned her walk into a trot and finally into a desperate run.

Panting, her chest heaving with pressure, her limbs aching and her shoulder twitching with the load of her backpack, Snigdha kept running, without breaking the speed. Even in the chilling coldness of the weather, the whipping wind, and the dampness of the mist, she could feel sweat trailing behind her back, making her feel hot and stuffy in her warm Phiran. As her eyes adjusted to the foggy snowy jungle, she could see that she was caught in the midst of thick tall trees, not finding a clear track to follow. She stood still just for a second contemplating which direction to take, when she heard a crackling sound, as if someone was around. Then she heard running footfall coming from behind her, distant but clear in the stillness of the early morning. She gasped for breath, her heart quickening with panic and fear and she turned towards her left where she could see less trees, as if animals or people have walked through them. She dashed carefully and started running with her whole life, blindly, madly, not stopping even to take a small breath. She was taking quick panting breaths, gasping to take air into her constricted lungs, running her tongue on her parched lips, feeling her body sweating heavily, drops dripping from her brow into her eyes which she dashed quickly. She could feel someone behind her. She could feel the hair on the nape rising with alarm. Her mouth went dry, but she continued her sprinting, her chest hurting by now, buzzing in her ears, her thigh muscles straining with the pressure. She had never run so much in her entire life. A sharp outgrowth from a tree, dipping low hit her on her forehead, but she dashed it away, wincing with pain, nonetheless running with all her might. Suddenly, she heard a gunshot somewhere behind her and then a shout. Shocked and in panic, she stumbled and fell down. But instead of looking back, she scrambled on her haunches, ignoring the biting pain in her palm where she had hit it on the ground, and started running again. But she was thrown back, by the pressure of the strap of her bag that had got caught on the root of a dead tree at her feet. She pulled at it vehemently, her breath coming in short, gasps, more like sobs. Breaking the strap, she ran for her life again. But not before seeing a dark, shadowy figure looming large some distance away. She ran with all her speed, saying a prayer to her favourite God Hanuman to save her this last time. Suddenly, a hand emerged from behind and clasped her mouth, stifling her scream, and dragging her towards a clump of bushes, pushing her down into a dark pit which she had missed seeing. She tried to look at the man, but couldn’t as he was behind her. She kicked with her feet at his shin, and felt a wave of satisfaction at the grunt of pain uttered by the man. The man recovered fast and dragged her close to him, from her waist and dragged her bodily into the pit that was truly dark and hidden from the dirt track she had been running on. Snigdha moaned and tried to bite his hand covering her now frozen lips, hurting him.

‘Ouch! You really know how to hurt lady!’ Roshan’s voice whispered fiercely in English. ‘He pulled her towards her tight and said, ‘If you will keep quiet, I will remove my hands. The men are coming fast towards us. We are in danger.’ Stunned to see Roshan, she could just nod. Cautiously, Roshan removed his hand from her numb mouth, and pulled her closer, which brought her annoyingly close to his hard chest, his left arm still clutching her by her waist. She became aware of his attire, covered from head to toe in black, it was obvious why she hadn’t seen him in the thick fog. Before she opened her mouth to bang questions at him, he put his finger on her lips to silence her, as they heard menacing shouts and sound of running feet approaching them. Crouching lower in the pit, which now she noticed was deep and uncomfortable, she was even scared to breathe and could feel Roshan’s heart beats increase and beat a deadly rhythm. So, he was helping her. But why? Snigdha just couldn’t fathom this turn of events. Wasn’t he supposed to capture her and hand her over to the chief being a part of Jung-e-Azadi? Why was he protecting her from these terrorists? Suddenly, she recognised the chief’s voice who shouted something in Kashmiri and she could recognise Roshan’s name. She quickly looked at Roshan, who signalled her to keep quiet, his eyes glittering, his breathing erratic, his hand on her waist tightening for a fraction of a second. They sat like that, for she didn’t know how long but it seemed like hours, with the sound of feet running, shouts, occasional gunshots, gradually subsiding, going farther away, receding into pin-drop silence, broken by just a bird tweeting in distance. She was amazed why they hadn’t looked into the ditch at hair’s breath away from the ground. Then she realised that they must have thought she was still running. Roshan’s grip slackened on her waist and he gently pushed her away and changed his position. She winced with pain when she tried to straighten her legs which had been twisted uncomfortably. ‘Are you alright?’ Roshan’s gruff voice echoed some concern. Then with more firmness he asked, ‘Why did you do this? I had particularly asked you to stay put and wait for my instructions. Noticing a hint of controlled fury in his voice, Snigdha sat up straight and looked into his eyes defiantly. ‘Why should I do anything you ask me to do? I am not your slave! I hate it here and had to run! I can’t stand staying here a moment longer amongst such animals. I want nothing from the likes of you, who kill and rape innocents for your personal motive!’ her chest was heaving with agitation. ‘Me? Kill and rape innocents?’ Roshan’s face was flushed with anger and incredulity. ‘Yes! You too! What is happening to Zainab? Can you honestly tell me that she is not being exploited? From here, I am straight away going to the police. I will tell them everything about you and your gang. Just because you are a spokesperson of Jung-e-Azadi doesn’t make you less of a terrorist. Do you hear? No one can stop me! Not even you!’ ‘Only if you survive this ordeal brought upon us by your foolishness.’ Roshan’s dry voice said quietly. Do you know your foolishness has cost you your life! You are still not safe! The nearest town is 55 kms from here. The men from Al Faran will hunt for you in every nook and corner of this damn jungle. And above all...’ ‘Above all you have got me!’ Snigdha cried with anger. ‘I am surprised why you are protecting me, unless you have some other hidden motive! Are you going to rape me and kill me and show off to them, as your prize? What will happen to the release of your chief’s brother?’ Snigdha was beyond control in her anger now, her voice breaking with emotion, ending in a sob. ‘No Snigdha, I will not.’ Roshan’s said softly. Her head jerked at his use of her name. ‘Yes I know your name, your background, the film you were shooting, everything. I was going to say that because they know that I am with you, your life is in more danger. These men in wolf’s clothing know no mercy. I came here to save you. You just don’t know how by a hair’s breath, they have missed you. But now I am with you, and I will make sure you reach home safe.’ Snigdha’s confused eyes absorbed all that he said and still couldn’t believe what concern was his to save her from his people. Noticing her expression, Roshan’s hand gripped her shoulder and he said, ‘I am with you, and no one will touch you or harm you anymore. But you will have to cooperate with me. Will you?’ He looked at her questioningly. Snigdha gazed at his trusting face, looking at his warm brown eyes, his firm masculine lips, soft with a semblance of a smile, his wavy hair which was now uncovered, as the black chequered shawl which she had noticed many terrorists wearing, had loosened and fallen around his neck. She asked finally, ‘Who are you? You can’t be a terrorist for God’s sake!!!’ Her voice shook with passion Roshan dropped his hands from her shoulder and lifted her hands, and held them with both his hands. Seeing her wince with pain, heturned her palms upwards to look at the reddened scratches. For such a large and strong man, his touch was soft, dry and making her fingers tremble with an awareness so strong she could feel it to her heart, making it beat faster. His fingers caressed scratches softly and then he looked at her, a frown on his chiselled forehead.

we r nw getting to the interesting part with lot of questions. who is roshan? is he also a terrorist or a spy? who is he working for? will they escape being caught? will they make it alive? wat Wil be their fate if dey r eventually captured..... to many questions dat need to be answered.... Kip reading

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Roshan Is A Quintessential Kashmari Terrorist ...Lets See How The Story Unfolds

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I knw it..roshan z a spy..am loving this ..next pls

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cnt u see he is in luv wit u dats y he is helpin u

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This is really touqh

episode 15 ‘No I am not. But I do not blame you for believing it. If I had been in your place, I would have done the same.’ Still holding her hands, and absently caressing it with his thumb, making her tremble with an unrecognisable emotion, he continued looking intently at her, ‘My name is Roshan Khan, a Kashmiri by birth, my father a Kashmiri Muslim and mother a Kashmiri Pandit. I am an investigative journalist working for an international television network living in UK for the last 15 odd years and taking up challenging issues in the whole of South Asia.’ ‘A journalist?’ Snigdha’s mind clogged with shock, her voice full of incredulity. Gazing at his face, she found something familiar about him. ‘Yes. I have been researching about a few terrorist groups for the last few years. I have met a number of imprisoned militants, and interviewed many surrendered ones as well. But the catch was to get into the underbelly and catch hold of real stories which can tell the world at large about what is going on in these camps and hideouts. During my research, my fellow American colleague was made hostage and killed brutally on camera which shook me very badly. I took a vow to penetrate the Al Faran group and get significant facts about their strategies, plans, modus operandi, etc. I wanted to know who all were behind them, hence through a detailed plan, I joined Jung-e-Azadi.’ Snigdha noticed that he had switched to impeccable English and was now holding his bent knees with his locked hands and speaking softly, feeling much more relaxed. Suddenly, Snigdha remembered where she had seen his face. ‘Wait! You are Roshan Khan of BBC, aren’t you?’ ‘Bingo! But I want to help Kashmir, my homeland. For the last nine months I’ve been in India, getting help secretively from low lying activists and the armed forces. They helped me penetrate the JEA and win the chief’s approval by getting involved in some recent heavy duty protests and movements against the Kashmir Govt. Gradually, everyone started trusting me, although they knew that I am not a trained terrorist, yet an educated man who can help them by representing their cause on wider forums. It was a matter of months that I would have been out of the Al Faran camp with the help of the forces, and would have given some valuable inputs that could have helped save hundreds of innocents. Till I came to know of their latest plan of getting Rehman released by this horrifying plot of abducting you and holding you as hostage. All this because your boyfriend Nitin had contacted JEA for some stupid interviews of some Al Faran members. That was when they hatched the plan to create a ruckus and kidnap you.’ ‘Nitin is not my boyfriend!’ Exclaimed Snigdha. Ignoring her answer, he continued, ‘I had to come into action. I wanted to see you for myself and think of an alternate strategy to dodge their plan. Thus, I visited you on the shikara.’ ‘And threw a rose at me.’ Snigdha said accusingly. ‘I was hoping to distract you from the impending meeting that the chief was plotting. I was planning to meet you again and dissuade you from entering the Al Faran group for any footage. I was hoping to kidnap you myself if worst came to worse. But things just went out of my hand!’ Roshan laughed bitterly.’ ‘I thought maybe with your cooperation, I will help you get free without harming my work there. That’s why I came and talked to you. But you hated me and it was impossible to tell you the truth then. So I kept an eye on you constantly… except for this time when you slipped and made a mess of my plan.’ He ended harshly.

Snigdha felt guilty like hell and bent her head, looking at her hands clutching her dirty backpack. She had never felt so bad in her entire life. She had always considered herself strong, but hearing Roshan’s narration, she felt as if she had not only endangered herself and him, but had also ruined his plan of doing something of international importance which seemed far-fetched now. She felt tears seeping from under her eyes, her throat raw. She felt sobs wracking her body. She felt the coiled-up tension catching up with this latest information and making her weep in frustration. With a groan, Roshan pulled her towards him and crushed her to his chest, her face muffled in his rough duffle Phiran. She was sobbing helplessly now. His big hands hesitantly rubbed her back and caressed her tousled hair which had come out of the dupatta. She didn’t realise for how long she wept in frustration, and surprisingly Roshan didn’t say a word and just let her cry. As her sobs stilled, her nose sniffing, she felt embarrassed of this show of weakness, and became aware of her behaviour, Roshan’s arms around her, his chin resting on her head, his heavy, steady breathing, and the stillness in the air. Pulling away, Snigdha scrubbed her face dry with her dupatta and avoided looking him. 

Roshan looked at Snigdha’s bent head, watching her hastily scrubbing her already flushed cheeks with herdupatta, trying to avoid his eyes. A small smile twitched his lips on seeing her embarrassment. He could imagine a brave and feisty woman like her trying to hide her moment of weakness which he was finding extremely endearing and childlike. In his 34 years of life, Snigdha probably can be called one of the first women who stirred him like this, making his heart beat faster than usual, his mind and heart pulled in different directions at the same time. A feeling of exasperated anger mingled with this acute sense of protectiveness confused him to no end. He should be really angry with her for ruining his plan of such an amazing story on the Al FaranJehadiswhich could not only make him an internationally acclaimed name but would help so many people. But he only felt relief at finding her safe and sound, within an arm’s length. He felt like holding her to himself till he made sure she reaches her team. He felt a stab of pure unadulterated jealousy at the thought of her going back to her close friend Nitin who his sources had said was a bit too close for comfort, making him believe that he could be her boyfriend. His eyes, roamed all over her, and even in this dishevelled, unkempt situation, he felt a tug of desire tighten his body, when he looked at the swell of her heaving chest, her smooth creamy throat which was now visible from her loosened

dupattaand her beautiful expressive face. Her damp eyelashes, making her big eyes enticing. Her pearl white teeth now nibbling at her dusky pink lips, making his pulse quicken. Before he felt distracted and did something foolish he said abruptly, ‘Now we have to stay here for some more time till we are sure of no one coming this side. Then I will take you in another direction. I have gone through this dense jungle a couple of time during my recce. So as soon as it’s little bit dark we will have to move. I just have a match box and no food or water. Maybe after some time, I will see if there is a water body nearby which I had noticed before, I can atleast get us some water. But we must leave this place at dusk to avoid wild animals…’ Snigdha head jerked up and she said with panic, ‘Wild animals? Do we really have them here?’ ‘Oh yes jackals, hyenas and even panthers’. He said tongue in cheek, making his tone casual. He felt her shudder and look at him and then notice his lips twitching in amusement. ‘Roshan! Seriously? How can you joke about it?’ She asked in irritation and turned her body away from him. Roshan saw her mock anger and laughed. He shifted his weight and stretched his booted legs in the front, touching her thighs due to lack of space. Seeing her flinch, he laughed loud and said, ‘We have to stay here for long baby. So you better get used to my touch. Come on, come here. Let’s lie down for some time. We have the whole day in front of us, or rather a few hours before I can venture out and look for water. I am sorry I can’t provide you with a first-class accommodation, but you can use my arm as a pillow if you want. I wouldn’t want your pretty head lying on the dirty ground.’ Roshan’s voice quivered with humour. He spread his head gear on the ground. He needed to make her feel comfortable without creating much fuss. As it is he was caught in a dangerous situation because of her. The least she could do was to cooperate. He noticed Snigdha sitting upright for a second, then crawling on her knees to where Roshan was reclining in the ditch, his back to the root of an old tree protruding from inside and stretching upwards into a giant foliage. Gingerly, Snigdha crept closer and lay her head on his arm, which he used to hold her closer, his hand lying impassively on her shoulders. He had noticed her hesitation and understood it perfectly. Knowing Snigdha’s personality in a short time he had spent with her, he could guess that she wasn’t the flirtatious and brazen kinds, taking advantage of the situation, and throwing herself at him. He knew women had always loved his company, admired him for his personality and success. Without being vane, he knew he could charm any woman if he desired. Women he had been involved with in London or India had always been intelligent, thinking women of substance who knew the score, which was mostly no strings attached healthy relationships. But Snigdha was different. Cautious, fidgety, defensive and somewhat wary as if… as if she had some bitter and bad experience with men in her past. He wanted to know more about her. But now was probably not the time. Maybe once she’s safely back to her world, and he has accomplished his mission, maybe then… maybe he would like to get to know her on common grounds. Share her interests, meet her family perhaps… Roshan was taken aback at this thought. Why was he thinking on these grounds? He didn’t even know this woman from adams! He was just physically attracted by her exotic Indian beauty and wanted to kiss her and probably desired her and could easily see her moaning in pleasure while he made earth shattering love to her! He turned his head towards Snigdha’s head cushioned on his left arm, her breathing even, signalling that she was fast asleep. A rush of tenderness made his heart skip a beat, and without realising, he bent his head and gave a feather light kiss on her hair. Snigdha opened her eyes and felt a steady rhythm under her ears, making her all warm and relaxed. She felt as if she was sleeping on a warm soft pillow, and rubbed her cheeks softly smelling the musky fragrance emanating from the pillow. She took another breath and jerked into wakefulness when she realised that it was not a fragrant pillow but a man’s warm chest, the rhythm being the steady heartbeats under her ears, magnified by the closeness to her ear drums! She tried to sit up straight, when she realised that a strong arm was holding her tight, which made it difficult for her to get up fast. She craned her neck to look at Roshan whose arm was tight around her, and looked straight into warm, amused liquid brown eyes. Roshan had been watching her reaction with amusement. This thought made her face colour delicately widening his smile. His eyes searching hers, he slowly loosened his arms and asked, ‘Feel better after the nap?’ ‘U-huh… yeah… kind of. And you?’ childishly ‘Me too. Not everyday you have a warm, sweet smelling body so close to you, to give you company!’ He said laughingly. ‘Oh shut up! Now where is that water? I am so thristy!’ She said c

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Nice1 u got here

Wao! This is qettinq more and more interestinq... Umm...am kind of want to know if dey 'll both make it out alive when there is no food and not even a sinqle H2O (water) for their survival... I'm so curiouse riqht now. @pixzybee ride on bae...

episode 16 ‘Ahh… and here I was wondering when will you start complaining! Now you are behaving like yourself. Like a typical woman!’ Roshan said mockingly, trying to get up. ‘What do you mean typical woman? Men don’t feel thirsty or what?’ Snigdha’s tone was rebellious. ‘OK OK… I give in. Your wish is my command Madam. I will right away go and get you a pitcher of water!’ Roshan said dramatically bowing. ‘You have a bottle or something?’ Snigdha asked. ‘Yup.’ Roshan inserted his hand in the pocket of his voluminous Phiran and took out a metal water sipper. As he climbed out of the ditch, Snigdha felt a prick of fear. She called after him, ‘Roshan.’ Roshan stopped and looked back, the light behind him making him into a silhouette, his expression inscrutable. ‘Be careful’, Snigdha could just utter these words, suddenly her throat clogged with worry. Roshan looked at her for a few seconds, and then nodded before jumping out. After Roshan’s departure, Snigdha sat on her haunches and brought her backpack closer hugging it as if it would give her strength. She unzipped one of the outer pockets and took out wet tissues. Wiping her palms and scrubby face, she applied an antiseptic cream on her scratches. She felt better after that. She leaned on the tree and pondered on the events of the day and found her thoughts get arrested on Roshan. She had never in her life met a man like him. So sure of himself, so strong and confident, so sharp and clever and so irresistible. She felt her heart flutter with the memory of her body lying so close to him. In any other circumstances, probably, she would not come even five feet close to any man after her bitter experience with Vikas. But with Roshan her instincts were perfectly uncontrollable as if she was helpless in her reactions and responses towards him. She felt drawn to him since the very beginning, even when she thought of him as a terrorist. Now her thoughts dwelled on his background. Was he married? Or perhaps engaged? He said he’s been living in London which means he must be living a fairly free and sociable life. His suave personality would attract women to him like honeybees. Who could ignore his rakish smile and sex appeal? When he had the power to make Snigdha breathless, it would be fairly easy for emancipated women of the world to express their desire and attraction for him. A successful journalist, rich and famous, drop-dead gorgeous, charming to the hilt, what more could any woman want? Snigdha sighed and tried to take her mind away from his image. Looking around she saw that, the ditch was not very deep but enough to hide them. She could feel an eerie silence outside. Suddenly, she realised that it was long since Roshan had gone to fetch water. How far would the pond be? Is it possible that he had been caught? The thought made her shiver in fear. She must go and check. Scrambling to her feet, Snigdha slowly climbed out, putting her feet on the tree root and catching hold of some plants growing on the edge. As she came out, she could see that it was mid afternoon, and the weak rays of sun played with the snowcapped trees. The jungle looked a little rundown what with the foot marks making dark ridges on the ground. The silence was broken only by a bird hooting somewhere hidden in the leaves or bushes. She turned around here and there to see Roshan but she could see no sign of him. Panic gripped her. Although she hadn’t heard any gunshot or footsteps, she was not sure which direction he had gone and whether he had been caught or not. Seeing huge single marks of shoes on the ground going towards the left of herself, Snigdha slowly started walking in that direction. She spotted a hazy figure in the distance and felt relief wash over her. As she was about to approach the figure that was enveloped in mist, she stopped dead in her tracks. The man turned around and walked closer. He was not as tall as Roshan and was wearing a light coloured jacket over loose denims. Her eyes transfixed on the menacing AK 47 hanging from his shoulders. Before she could turn and run in the direction of the ditch, he grabbed her by her scarf and jerked her towards him. ‘Where are you going? I have to take you to the chief.’ The man said in broken Hindi and dragged her towards thick jungles. ‘Leave me alone.’ Snigdha stopped before saying anything else and started struggling, trying to free herself from his hard grip, her eyes looking frantically for Roshan. ‘Looking for your saviour? He will be killed now. Shot in his head. And you will be punished.’ The man leered at her. ‘But we can go to the chief a little later. I think you have some use for me.’ The man was now looking at her insultingly, his eyes roving over her body making her skin crawl with fear and revulsion.

‘No. Let me go!’ Snigdha hit his feet and shins with her shoe clad feet. He grunted in pain and slapped her hard with his free hand. Reeling with pain and shock, Snigdha could taste blood on her tongue where his palm had hit her soft lips. Moaning and struggling, Snigdha still tried to fight him. By this time, the man had managed to drag her towards a cluster of thick trees and tall grasses. He pushed her on the icy ground and jumped on her, pinning her flailing limbs with his thick legs. Snigdha felt breathless and numb with fear and shock and was desperately trying to think what she could do to push him away, or hurt him so that he was unable to molest her. The man guessed at the direction of her thoughts because he grabbed her hair, causing her instant pain, and with his other hand tore at her Phiran neck. The thick wool tore, revealing her soft cotton top inside. The man’s hands groped her neck and got lower, making her go weak with fear and repulsion. His hard fingers were gripping her throat and before he could paw her further down, he was wrenched away from her body and pushed on the ground. Snigdha saw Roshan’s face twisted in fury while he hit the man with his booted feet at places which made the man roll with agony. Snigdha got up clutching her torn Phiran front and looked at the man rolling on the ground groaning with pain. Roshan took out his gun and lifted it, when Snigdha said fervently, ‘No Roshan! You can’t kill him!’ Roshan threw a glance full of anger and impatience at her before lifting the gun and hitting the man on his head with the butt. The man’s body shook for a second then was still. Roshan knelt and checked his pulse.

‘He will survive albeit with a massive headache and bad bruise.’ Roshan said in a clipped voice. Turning towards her, he saw her state of clothes, and her trembling body, her bruised face and said tersely, ‘When you women can’t handle such situations, why don’t you for once listen to what we advise you.’ ‘But… but I was getting worried and thought maybe you have been caught… ’ Snigdha started guiltily. ‘And what if I had been caught? Would you have rescued me?’ Roshan barked, his expression hooded, dark eyebrows rising with exasperation. ‘Not really, but Roshan… I had to check…’ Snigdha gained courage. ‘Enough Snigdha. You have caused enough trouble. Do you realise what would have happened if I hadn’t reached on time?’ Roshan pushed his hands in his hair and turned away, his body taut with tension. Snigdha stood there feeling guilty, sorry and terribly uncomfortable. Suddenly, the shock and tension enveloped her and she started trembling madly. Clutching her torn Phiran to her chest, she slowly turned around and stumbled towards the ditch. Roshan followed her and as they reached, he stopped her by keeping his hand on her shoulder. ‘I am sorry for shouting at you. But you make me feel angry and impatient with your irresponsible behaviour.’ Roshan’s said in a gruff voice. ‘I know. But it’s not my fault that I’m stuck here in midst of danger and death!’ Snigdha said in a dejected tone. Roshan turned her towards him and looked at her somberly for several seconds. ‘I think we should leave the place as soon as possible. If this guy can loiter around, others will not be far away. We must cross the jungle before its dark. After that we have some more miles to cross. Hopefully, we will find a cottage or hut where we can take refuge. But, at the moment, we must hurry.’ Roshan said urgently, his hand gripping her shoulders lightly. Snigdha nodded. Roshan jumped inside the ditch to take her backpack and his scarf. ‘Your lip is bleeding.’ Roshan said pointedly. ‘Do you have antiseptic or something…?’ Without saying anything, Snigdha rummaged through her bag with one hand, taking out the antiseptic. She also found a hair clip which she pinned to her torn Phiran neckline, feeling relieved now that it was pinned neatly. Before she could apply the ointment, Roshan stopped her and offered her water. ‘Just clean it once’. Roshan’s gaze was gentle. Snigdha took some water in her mouth and gargled, wiping her lips with a wet tissue. As she took out the ointment, Roshan’s hands took the tube from her and he gently applied some ointment at the corner of her lips. Snigdha suddenly felt shy and awkward and dropped her lashes, hiding her discomfort, yet feeling tremors of reaction travel down her body. Roshan silently applied the cream and capped the tube before giving it to her. His expression was inscrutable, face blank. Her backpack was hoisted by him on his shoulders. Soon they started towards the direction he mentioned, their walk brisk, quick and careful, lest they slip while walking on the now melting snow. She lost track of the time, and could feel darkness descend fast and cold, like a thick blanket shrouding everything in deep blackness. Roshan’s hand went inside his Phiran, and out came a thin, pencil torch, its straight golden beam, illuminating the path directly in front of them.

‘What all do you have in that Phiran of yours?’ Snigdha asked playfully panting with the exertion of walking for an hour or so. A smile touched Roshan’s face, hazy and darkish in the receding light. Without stopping he said, ‘Lot of things that might be helpful to us.’ With that he took out a sleek gun which was till now hidden inside. The glint making it look more lethal in the dark. At her sharp intake of breath, she saw his hand disappear inside and come out with a satellite phone, which he shook at her and kept it back. Snigdha’s eyes widened seeing that. Without breaking their quick trot, his hand went inside again and took out a cellular phone. Snigdha stopped in her tracks looking gleefully at the phone. ‘No use for us right now. We won’t get any network. Besides, they can track us immediately.’ With that he shoved it inside. They started their walk which was fast turning into a run. ‘Is it true that the terrorists’ mechanism is much more advanced than that of the security and armed forces?’ Snigdha asked. ‘Absolutely correct. The Intelligence and Defence department in our country might think that they have all the advance techniques and methods to track these people and fight them too but one thing even they have stopped denying is the high-end technology and software that the terrorists have started using. Their weapons are advance. They get enough financial assistance from Pakistan and other countries that have vested interests. They have started indoctrinating and hiring professionals from fields like software technology, engineering, education and military. Their surveillance and reconnaissance methodology is much more advanced than any governmental agency’s.’ Snigdha noticed that Roshan was speaking without any strain in breathing unlike her. He seemed fit and well trained for such tasks. She couldn’t hide her curiosity and asked,

@orevastar5 @frankkay @victoriouschild @fridex @macrex @adauche @peacebright @froshberry @pizzaro @onahsunday631 @invincible @individual...... new episode is here... Pls help me with the register

u guys r Nt encouraging me ooooooo or is it Dat u don't like it

New Episode Is Here Guys @tenniebenson @khola46 @wiseman @ibrams @pizzaro @swtharyomi @wyse-one @eddy @delight @pweety @mray @jummybabe @babe4biola @sofia @ritagold @kuks @originalannchilexdel @fridex @frank @frankkay @simzy @pheranmmie041 @temmyjoy @chriswayne @evanz @itzshaxee @mecuze @skookum @kingson1 @donmikie @kingsbest @t-dak @charlywizzy @charliebryn @hardeywummy @japhola @konphido @emmyrexx @adura @tholartee @nextangel @blessedgirl @ebube @jenifa @jclash @taiwo @chomyline @lawman @tinagabe @christiana @itmrabzeez @johnoscar @precy @timmy @dabcy @ikeholuwa1 @besty @starlet @okklad @angeleniola @ewomazeal @mizleemah @blessfelicity222 @anitcham @stephanie @lollybabe1 @dahcutebae @rhennyjay @geeadore @tiffany1 @tonia @hameyeenat @inemlove @promzy @mohjisolah @jencute @jenny @doublewealth @john451 @kniphemi @emmanesth @horpheyehmy @valking1 @pweety @kpumpy @justify @maurice @jummy @thankmic @christopher @anita @phinebraim @kedike @kemkit @gracy @saintkenz @december12 @promise 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We like the story dear..ride on.. she will ask him if he z married very soon

Mehn!! Am Enjoying This..Ride On Bae [b]Its Time For Transformation,for Action A Name You Know A Voice For You Its All About You Its Time For Change Lets Make A Difference Vote The Special Queen @topbliss As The Next Miss Coolval Thanks[/b]

hope u'll get out of this alive

Really like the story..

Ride on..

episode17 ‘You speak from first-hand experience…’ Roshan frowned and said in a serious tone. ‘I have been witness to some very heinous bomb attacks, military raids and encounters, and riots all over the world. Have been a war journalist. My last sojourn was in Syria where I saw some gory massacres, mindless violence, with helpless women and children being the worst victims of the Syrian army. As a journalist, we are taught to be objective but how can I be when I see blood bath all around me? When innocents are killed and no one seems to be able to stop all the violence. And all in the name of mindless revolt and retaliation against the civilians. What can a journalist do? You know what is going on is wrong but you are helpless. The international community is helpless. You get sucked in the mire of death and drudgery, in the aftermath of wars and bloodshed, where you taste death and desolation with your own eyes. In case you survive, your nightmares don’t let you live.’ A harshness had crept in Roshan’s deep voice, his face contorted with pain. He suddenly stopped in mid stride, his chest finally heaving. His right hand fleetingly passed over his eyes. Sheen of sweat was visible on his brow. He took out the metal water sipper and took a swig of water, then offering her the bottle. Snigdha quietly drank a few mouthfuls, taking care not to drink too much. They had to save water for more tricky situations. Roshan looked around and observed, ‘We are more than half way through Snigdha. I think it’s already dusk and nightfall will be within few minutes. We must look for a safe and dry place to park for the night. We will have to start at dawn now. It’s time to stop our sprinting. Do you want to attend to nature calls before it’s too dark?’ Roshan asked matter of fact. Snigdha flushed with embarrassment at this subtle hint to relieve herself. Indeed her bladder was full and she needed to go desperately. Taking her silence for a ‘yes’ Roshan flashed the torch towards a cluster of bushes few furlongs away and handed her the torch. Hesitantly, Snigdha walked towards the dark cluster. When she got back, Roshan was sitting on a broken tree trunk, lighting up a cigarette. The reddish glow of his cigarette, and the curling smoke made it evident that he was in a pensive mood. He didn’t finish his cigarette and crushed it on the ground with his shoes, pushing it under the wet leaves just in case anyone finds it and looks for the trail. ‘Trying to quit. Not a great habit.’ Roshan commented laconically looking at her silent form, observing him. ‘Now it’s my turn to go!’ he said smiling. But his smile vanished as soon as she took a swift breath and looked around alarmingly. ‘Come on. I deserve to empty my bladder too! Don’t be scared. I’m right there behind that tree. OK? Be a good girl.’ He grinned before taking the torch and going behind the tree. Snigdha looked around. The wood appeared eerie and threatening in the night. Every crackle and whisper took a gargantuan proportion, making her alert and wary. Nocturnal sounds of crickets, hooting owls and inane animal sounds made the hair on her body stand out and prickle. She peered in the darkness and felt sharp, pinpoints of wavering light in the distance. As if someone was coming towards them with a lamp or torch? She looked towards the tree where Roshan had gone to relieve himself and willed him to come back. Why was he taking so much time for God’s sake? Her feet were twitching to run towards him but she refrained from behaving in this puerile manner and waited with bated breath for him to come back. It seemed like ages when he got back, his feet making soft crunching noise on the now wet and gooey leaves and ground.

Snigdha clutched his arm and stood up pointing towards the shaky light in the distance. ‘Lets go and check. We have come in the opposite direction, therefore we might not be near any terrorist camp. Never saw any camp in this forest. Mostly, they hide in the forests of Pampore and Kupwara. This is closer to Srinagar.’ He said slowly. ‘Are you sure? What if it’s a trap?’ Snigdha asked tentatively. ‘You could be right.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘In that case, we must move in the other direction, towards our left. We have another 15 minutes to look for shelter. Run’. He said emphatically. They ran madly for ten odd minutes when suddenly his torch shone at a ramshackle, hut, lopsided and broken, but looking dry. He stopped her and went closer to inspect. Finding it clear of any human or animal presence, he came towards her and said, ‘We can take a risk and hide inside this for the next few hours. I can cover it a bit so that in this darkness anyone can miss it. Also I doubt if we will get company tonight.’ He said lightly. After that he started picking up logs and branches strewn here and there and started piling it in front of the ramshackle hut. Snigdha dropped her bag and started helping him. In no time, they had practically hidden the crooked, broken hut made of wooden beams and dry leaves and a little above ground on four legs like a typical Kashmiri house.

‘Come inside. We must take rest.’ Roshan offered his hand, making Snigdha wonder for a second if he wanted to hold her hand, realising immediately that he was asking for the bag. Embarrassed and thankful for the darkness hiding her flushed cheeks, Snigdha gave her bag and followed him. Both of them entered through a small opening in the side which was swiftly covered by Roshan. He once again spread his chequered stole on the ground which was already messy and dry with dirt. He motioned at her to lie down first, and slowly adjusted himself on the little patch of cloth. However much she tried, her body touched his sides, and she wriggled this side and that side to adjust her body so that without touching him, they could lie down comfortably. It was impossible. After some time, Roshan’s exasperated voice uttered, ‘What the hell is wrong with you lady? We are not honeymooning here! Just lie still and let me sleep!’ Snigdha felt like crying in frustration. She lay down still and controlled her breathing. Roshan had thrown his arm over his head and with half his body on the ground and just his head on the stole, he had it seemed gone into instant slumber! How easy it was for a few people, Snigdha wondered! But then hadn’t he admitted that he was a regular at such difficult situations? He must be used to sleeping on hard ground, surviving on no food or water, suffering injuries, accepting most adverse situations. This must be regular for him. Envying his tough immunity, Snigdha tried to shut her eyes hard, thinking of anything that can bring sleep to her. She tried to ignore the hard ground, the eerie night sounds and concentrated on Roshan’s even breathing, his warmth beside her. She edged closer to him, her body touching his warm and hard length. She turned slightly towards him and tentatively curled in the crook of his arm and heaved a long sigh, suddenly feeling relaxed and secure. Besides her, Roshan smiled in the darkness. He wanted her to make the move herself. He didn’t want her to think that he was all the time pushing her into intimacy or closeness. The situation demanded that any coy or demure behaviour from her side would be damn uncomfortable for both of them. It was not his choice to sleep in this godforsaken hut, on a four by four feet stole that was too thin to give them warmth. As it is, the temperature was dropping fast. He was not even carrying his usual Kangdi inside his Phiran that he had learnt to do at the camp. Kangdi can keep you warm and cozy in biting cold. Roshan felt rather than saw the soft and supple body of Snigdha touch his sides, making his nerves alive with awareness and flickering passion. He had been trying to curb his passion and desire for this woman for a long time, not revealing how he felt every time she looked at him with those big warm eyes. He slowly dropped his arm from his forehead and brought it around her head which was now curving towards his chest. He thought it would be warmer and more comfortable if they came closer. Who exactly was he kidding? Was it really comfort that he was looking for? Or was it to feel her supple body close, to touch those silky tresses, and to feel her heartbeat? Swearing in his thoughts, Roshan curved his arms around her and settled her a little more closer to his form. Relaxed now, he closed his eyes to catch up some sleep Roshan jerked into wakefulness abruptly, when he found Snigdha struggling frantically, odd moans coming out of her mouth in her sleep. Her limbs were thrashing as if someone was holding her captive. Her moans were deep and clogged as if someone was clutching her throat. She was mumbling someone’s name hysterically. Quickly, Roshan switched on the torch and searched the area for any snakes or animals. Finding none, he shook Snigdha from her nightmare which was making her incoherent now. Abruptly, she woke up, soaked in her own sweat and looked around in fear and horror. Her glazed eyes sought Roshan’s and then suddenly she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him, trembling and shaking. Roshan held her tight, looking for the flask kept nearby and offering her some water. This was the third time he had seen her crying. In the past, he had got fairly irritated by weeping women as their weeping used to trigger panic in him because he recognised it for some or other form of emotional blackmail. He had some weird and distasteful memories of a couple of weeping women and had no patience with them. Then why was it that he felt his heart go tender every time this lady wept? Why did he want to crush her close to his heart and wipe her tears and assure her that everything would be alright? Why did he want to kiss her rather than reprimand her or push her away?

‘Well, I don’t have a ready supply of fresh handkerchiefs sweetheart, so you will have to wipe yourself this time with your scarf or tissues.’ Roshan’s amused voice filtered Snigdha’s clogged brain after a few minutes when her sobs had subsided. A giggle escaped her. She could feel Roshan’s hard chest under her wet cheeks. She could feel steady rhythm of his heart beats. She could feel the rumble of his laughter. And she could feel his hands moving on her loose hair strands, the rhythmic movement of his hand from her head to waist comforting her, and warming her to the core. She felt shy and bit her lips before lifting her head. As she lifted her head, she found his face very close to her, his shadowy eyes looking into her eyes. The diagonal beam of torch falling jaggedly on one side, illuminating their faces slightly. Snigdha felt a strange pull towards this enigmatic man and couldn’t tear away her eyes which were meshed with wet eye lashes, her lips slightly swollen with weeping, her nose pink and her face suffused with warmth. Roshan’s eyes had sharpened with an intense expression and slowly as if in a trance he lowered his face and touched her trembling lips with his own, soft, feather light, tentative, as if asking permission. Snigdha was so startled that her lips parted of its own volition, making Roshan slant his head and deepen the kiss. Snigdha had not reached 28 years without experiencing her first or perhaps second kiss. But the kiss she was sharing with Roshan tasted like never before, hot, searing, molten passion. His warm breath, and caressing lips and tongue were wreaking havoc on her senses. She was aware of each movement made by him, his fingers that were now playing with her hair, his tongue that had entered her mouth, tangling with her tongue, his other hand that was pulling her harder and closer towards him, both their eyes closed, Snigdha and Roshan savoured their first kiss as if it was manna from heaven, as if they had been thirsty for each other. Breathing heavy, Roshan lifted his head and looked at Snigdha’s eyes heavy with passion. He cupped her face and gave her short, sweet kisses, caressing her slightly bruised lower lips, her chin, ear lobe, throat and back to her lips which were throbbing with passion so much that without realising, Snigdha took the initiative to kiss Roshan. Taking a sharp breath, Roshan drank from her sweet mouth, the nector of passion, which had now started burning their whole body. They didn’t realise how long they had been kissing and caressing each other in the dim light, their breathing heavy and their hands impatient to get intimate. Snigdha’s arms creeping around his neck, caressing his long wavy hair. She could feel Roshan’s hands rubbing and caressing her back. His hands gripped her small waist, caressed her rib cage, and started travelling upwards towards her aching breasts, when suddenly she jerked to a stop. Roshan could feel a change in her body. He gave her a slow lingering kiss as if he was leaving her reluctantly, lifting his head and pressing her forehead with his forehead, breathing heavy. ‘That was some kiss!’ his deep voice shook slightly with emotion. He had removed his hands from her ribcage, hugging her tightly. ‘Do you realise what you do to me Snigdha? You have come in my life like a witch, winding me around your little finger. I can’t think straight when you look at me with those beautiful eyes and delectable lips

‘I havn’t done a thing!’ Snigdha said in mock indignation. ‘Yea, I know. You only have to weep those big tears, wriggle your sexy bottom close to my already aching body, and then throw yourself at me.’ Roshan said mocking her. Snigdha blushed and ducked her head. Roshan put a finger below her chin and raised her face. ‘You are one of the most amazing women I’ve ever come across. You are beautiful, brave and bashful, all at the same time. I love your spunk. I love your spirit. And I want you very very badly. But… But this is not the right time to express our want and desire for each other. Hell, I can’t even make love to you in this hellish place.’ Roshan laughed. Snigdha’s ears had warmed hearing all those intimate compliments. She had not realised that Roshan was fighting the same attraction that she was fighting. Yet she also noticed that not once did he mention love. Only attraction, desire and wanting. ‘Errr… what time is it?’ She changed the subject. Roshan looked at her with one eyebrow raised, as if he understood her intention. ‘Its around 3 am. We should start from here in an hour. No point sleeping anymore. Let’s wait for the clock to strike 4 and we will be off on our foot.’ He stopped suddenly and looked at her curiously. ‘Are you feeling OK?’ ‘Why were you so scared? Bad dreams?’ Snigdha shifted on the stole uneasily knowing very well that she had dreaded this very moment, when Roshan would ask her about her nightmares. Should she lie? Tell him that she was having nightmares about the terrorists? She opened her mouth to say it when she saw his expression of concern, and worry. She started hesitantly, ‘The harrowing time that I’ve had is taking toll on me I guess. I keep having these terrifying visions of my kidnap and…’ ‘Who is Vikas?’ Roshan asked interrupting her. ‘Vikas… ? Did I take his… ? Oh God!’ Snigdha pushed her tangled hair away from her forehead with shaking fingers. She knew she couldn’t avoid the truth now… the gory, hidden and unpalatable past of hers. She bit her lips in agitation. ‘If it troubles you, don’t tell me. But maybe sharing some of your burden, might lessen the pain.’ His voice was soft and soothing.

Time had come for Snigdha to exorcise the dark memories and presence of Vikas from her life, or rather her mind and soul. Snigdha cleared her throat and started. ‘I met Vikas while I was in the Film Institute getting trained as a cinematographer. He was a fellow classmate pursuing Film Direction Course. Talented, dynamic, driven to excel in this field and bloody sure of himself. Initially, I was not interested in his brash and bold methods of wooing me, but guess destiny had a different future stored for me. While working on our diploma projects together, one thing led to another and I bowed down to his overtures and accepted his proposal. He seemed very convincing in his expression of love. Like a leaf blowing in the wind, I got pulled towards him. In no time, we were labelled as a couple on the campus. I was not surprised because being a possessive man, Vikas made it clear to everyone that I was his property. That was the first warning signal in our relationship… that I ignored. Soon, more bouts of erratic possessiveness followed and then followed, his frustrated behaviour towards me when after passing out from the Institute, there was no taker for his talent and skill. As months passed, and as each one of us got big or small projects, not always as per our liking, but enough to serve as an opening in the highly competitive field of television and films, Vikas was still the one on the loose end. Frustration made him a maniac.’ Snigdha stopped, her voice getting caught on the word, ending in a whisper. Roshan’s fingers gripped her hand soft and firm, giving her strength. She took a deep breath before starting again, willing herself to finish the bitter tale of her nightmarish past, ‘Within one year of our passing out, our relationship went down the drain. Each day was hell for me. On one hand, I tried my best to understand his angst and frustration; on the other hand, I cringed with fear and hatred from him, every time he… abused me mentally, psychologically… and sometimes physically.’ ‘He hit you?’ A menacing note had entered Roshan’s voice. ‘Yes. I was so scared and cornered because of being torn in two opposite directions of love which was dying fast and hatred for the man who I had considered my friend and confidant. He became so cruel day by day that, one day I ran. Ran so fast, that I had to go in a hideout for six months with my elder sister who helped me come out of my depressive phase. Very few people know my plight. When I returned from my hideout and healing phase, I was a new and fresh person, having gained my self-esteem and passion to fight back. I have no idea where Vikas is, but sometimes I still get those horrible nightmares, especially in the darker phase of my life.’ ‘Like now. When you are hanging between danger and uncertainty. When without any fault of yours you have been subjected to so much agony and discomfort.’ His voice was raw. ‘Even you are suffering Roshan.

@onahsunday631 @frankkay @individual @invincible @froshberry @hermeenart @Coolval @eliboy @Oneal new episode is here

G B A M!! Enjoying This..Forge On. [b]Hey Frosh Coolvallers,dont Hesitate To Vote The Designated Queen As The Next Misscoolval..Thanks[/b]

Vote @topbliss

Am loving/enjoying this..ride on

lolz @Onahsunday631

I love d story, fire on

pls, dnt forget to VOTE @victoriouschild as d 2016 miss cooval God bless u as u VOTE

[b] following [/b]

@harmeenart like seriously z now that i understand this story

following!!..d chemistry btw them is too hot to handle!!

sorry girl... he'll make u forget him

Hmmmmm..

Just too much

Nxt pls

Am back (from my short_brake)

eyah, sorry dear snigdha

vikas is an animal

episode 18 ‘That’s because I’ve chosen to do it. I’ve entered the den of danger with eyes wide open, knowing the hazards. I have handled worse situations having been caught between crossfire of two enemies during wars. I’ve survived them all. But now, I am more concerned about you. I want you safe Snigdha. Safe and away from these blood thirsty maniacs who can chew you alive.’ Suddenly, his voice became strong. ‘I will take you out. I promise you Snigdha, you will be out of this jungle, safe and sound, in just a couple of hours. You are now my responsibility. They will have to walk over my dead body to get you!’ Snigdha was stunned to hear the vehemence in his voice. The intensity of emotions in his eyes took her breath away. For what seemed like aeons, they looked at each other. Then suddenly Roshan’s tired face broke into his characteristic lazy, charming smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘But I must atleast thank Vikas for one thing’. ‘Thank Vikas?’ Snigdha asked incredulously. ‘Yup. For making you so scared that you jumped into my arms!!’ ‘God! How can you be such a brute?’ Snigdha groaned in mock exasperation. ‘And what about that hunk Nitin? Is he your current boyfriend?’ ‘Of course not! I don’t have any current, past or future boyfriend! Do you understand? I will never have it! I don’t have time for all that.’ Snigdha said sniffing with an attitude. ‘Oh? Is that so? Well baby, never say never!’ His eyes twinkled. And he curved his big hands around her cheeks and asked tenderly, ‘How’s that bruise? Did the… ointment heal it? The slight pause before ointment was loaded with meaning. So was his smiling face. As if he was hinting at the kiss not the ointment.’ Snigdha laughed and shook her head without saying anything. ‘What’s the time? Shouldn’t we start?’ ‘Oh Yes! We should. Come on babe. Chat time over. Let’s get moving.’ With that he got up, stretching his arms, and legs to get out of the stiffness. Snigdha got up and did the same. Hoisting her backpack once again on his shoulders, he asked, ‘Ready for that run? Or you would like to…’ ‘No No… I’m ready!’ Snigdha didn’t want to go to the natural loo in this hazy darkness again. She felt she could wait till, dawn breaks. 

The day was breaking. Darkness receding to unravel reddish, golden streaks in the sky. While they were walking fast, they could see the sunrise at its most elemental stage, on their right, gradually, the entire horizon visible from the now thinning trees as they were probably coming closer to the road perhaps. Snigdha’s heart was beating really fast now anticipating the end of their journey in this thick, threatening jungle that had engulfed them in its grip like a serpent for the last so many hours. The flickering, glowing lights of the morning made her heart soar. She felt new and enervated. She felt happy. She suddenly had a feeling that a new chapter in her life was about to begin. She felt as if a huge burden had lifted from her shoulders, making her head light and heart sing. She stole a look at Roshan who was walking with her step by step keeping his pace a little slower so that she is able to cope. How she loved his concern, his sensitivity, his gentleness in spite of her silliness that could have cost them their lives. She saw him pull his thick Phiran over his head and take it off, tying it around his waist. Snigdha’s eyes widened seeing his taut, muscled body so unlike any of her men friends. Wide shoulders, tapering to a slim waist, with muscles rippling on his back and arms, as if he took good care of his body with regular workouts. The thin pullover stretching on his chest did little to disguise his lithe body which made Snigdha’s heartbeats faster. The snug mud splattered denims moulded his long legs, giving Snigdha a view of a very good looking and taut bottom. Looking away from his tall good looking personality Snigdha knew that never would she be able to forget the brief time she had spent with Roshan. Roshan! A name that was now imprinted on her heart forever! She was still not clear what exactly she felt for him. What made her breathless every time he looked at her. Someone who has been living independently for so many years now, who shied away from relationships, who kept a man to an arm’s length, she had got attracted to this 6 foot hunk so fast that it was just not funny! She didn’t know whether it were her hormones speaking, whether it was the strange adventurous situation that had drawn them together, or whether it was just a huge crush that she was feeling albeit trifle late in her adult life, but she sure was into him, hook, line and sinker. Her thoughts were rudely interrupted. She was pulled by Roshan to a stop abruptly. ‘Look. I can see a cottage down there.’ Roshan pointed at a clearing in the distance. Smoke could be seen coming out. The cottage was still shrouded in the receding mist, but the smoke meant that there were people in there. ‘What if…’ Snigdha started tentatively. ‘We will have to take a risk this time. No, I will have to take the risk. You stay here. Hide yourself behind these thick bushes. I will not go too close. Just want to see whether we can get some help.’ Roshan was speaking fast and impatiently as if he didn’t want to get interrupted.

‘That is too much of a risk Roshan. We just don’t know who they are, whether they have been waiting for us or not…’ Snigdha’s voice was urgent. ‘Listen Snigdha, I told you I will be careful. In case I am late, you hide here only and wait for any movement…’ Roshan’s voice had an edge of impatience. ‘And what if you do not return?’ Snigdha’s face had lost its colour. Roshan came closer and gave her a bear hug, hugging her tight and kissing the top of her head tenderly. ‘If that happens, promise me you won’t come out till it’s all quiet, and then very carefully move towards the nearest village, from where you can call for help. I am sure the village is very close now.’ He held her for a few seconds more in silence then gently pushed her towards the thick bushes of tall grasses and thick trees from where early morning light was filtering creating a starry effect. With Roshan standing a few feet away now, ready to move towards the cottage, Snigdha felt bereft, alone. She stretched her hand towards him, wanting him to hold her, never to let her go. Roshan stood looking at her outstretched hand, and slowly he pulled her backpack from his shoulders and gave it to her. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. Knowing fully well, he had understood her plea, yet had ignored it, because it was for the best. The moment of parting couldn’t be prolonged any further. Why did she get the feeling that she was never going to see him again? Why had his eyes, taken that shuttered, serious look? Why was he leaving her alone? As Roshan retreated his steps and then turned to leave without looking back at her, Snigdha felt as if all this had been a dream. It felt unreal, like a mis en scene constructed by the biggest director in the universe, God, who had very carefully arranged the events and the scenes in a certain order which was coming to its climax. Transfixed, Snigdha watched Roshan move away from her. Jerking back to reality, she forced her limbs to move and with feet dragging like lead she went towards the thicket and crouched low, parting the leaves so that she could peer through the gaps and see what went out there. Not that much was visible from this distance. Minutes dragged by slow and painful, making Snigdha numb with anxiety and fear. The crouching position making her ache all over. Her thigh muscles trembled with pressure, but she ignored it and waited with her heart in her mouth. Suddenly, gunshots shook her to the core. Shaking with freight, Snigdha tried hard to see what was going on near the cottage. She could see some activity there. Did Roshan shoot? Or was he shot? Snigdha pressed her hands on her trembling lips and crushed the cry that threatened to spillover. Her heart was beating so hard that she could hear the thuds. She felt so helpless and scared. She was contemplating getting up when she heard a roar and saw an open jeep coming towards the jungle. The jeep was coming towards the track where she was hiding. Panic made her faint, but taking deep breaths, she crouched lower praying with all her might that they should not see her hiding behind the bushes. As the jeep came closer she squeezed her eyes shut and literally stopped breathing. The sound came nearer and nearer and she could feel it passing the bush where she was sitting. Very slowly, she opened her eyes and tried to peer out of the leaves carefully. It was an open black jeep loaded with terrorists with guns and half covered faces. As the jeep crossed, she saw the slouched form of Roshan held by two men at the back. His head was lolling on his chest and he looked lifeless. Snigdha’s stunned eyes registered this and filled with hot tears. Her hand was pressed hard on her mouth to stop any sound that would come out in fear and panic. She couldn’t believe that Roshan was dead. Simply couldn’t! They must have just hurt him! He must have fainted! She tried to convince herself. But what will happen to him when he reaches the camp? What will the chief do to him? Now that he knew Roshan had helped her escape, will he kill Roshan? Oh God! Snigdha couldn’t believe that fate had brought Roshan into such a terrible situation. He was so confident, so sharp, so cock sure of his actions. How could he be in this situation? What if he had stayed back? Would he be with her now, safe and sound? Snigdha saw the jeep move deeper into the jungle exactly in the same direction, from where she and Roshan had reached this place. Probably, they were on surveillance. Probably, the terrorists knew they would come this way and get caught. But Snigdha realised with mortification that they had not looked for her. Did they think she had escaped? Did Roshan misguide them before getting hurt by them? Did Roshan finally save her by pawning his own life? How could he do it? Didn’t he know that she loved him and wouldn’t want any harm to come to him?

Stunned by this admission, Snigdha sat back and held her head in her hands. How could she have fallen in love with a man who had absolutely no care in the world for his own life? How could she have exposed herself to so much pain once again in life? Pain of losing Roshan right in front of her eyes? Would she be able to meet him again? To express her love for him? Tears seeped from her eyes, slowly drenching her face. She didn’t know for how long she sat there, weeping. Weeping for Roshan. Weeping for the lost love. Weeping for not expressing her love for him. Frantically, Snigdha scambled to her feet and realised that only she had the power to save Roshan if she took some careful, planned action. What had Roshan advised her before throwing himself in front of death? That she should find the nearest village which could not be far away. She will find the village and inform the army and police about the hideout of these perpetrators of crime. She will do it as soon as possible so that Roshan’s life could be saved. With this decision hardening her resolve, Snigdha wiped her cheeks roughly, rubbed her hands on her phiran, lifted her backpack and tentatively started walking out of the jungle, an eye on the cottage, hiding herself behind the trees. She had to look for a road or something that would take her away from the cottage not closer to it. Snigdha felt strong and full of energy as if she had drunk some energy drink. Her feet on the ground were quick and sure-footed. Her breath came in soft gasps, but not nervous. Her eyes looked around her sharply. Sun was high now. It was fresh and bright all over. Ice had melted, dew was shining on leaves. Bird songs could be heard, making her feel alive and positive. All this because her love for Roshan was bubbling inside her, making her as confident as Roshan. She had a purpose of life now, to save Roshan’s life. As she started running, she suddenly found herself out of the jungle, on the roadside in no time. She stood there stupefied. They had been so close to the highway. It was sheer bad luck that Roshan had gone towards the cottage. She laughed seeing the road slick with melted ice. Soon her laughter turned into sobs of happiness. Now with more energy she started running on the road in the opposite direction, which would take her closer to any other city but Srinagar. Hearing the sound of engine she stopped, fear gripping her heart. Turning around she saw a colourful truck come towards her, the number plate showing that it was from Jammu, loud music blaring from the vehicle. She waved her tired arms and jumped to the side when the truck stopped and a bearded Sikh driver pulled his face out to peer at her curiously. Snigdha opened her mouth to introduce herself.

@onahsunday631 @frankkay @individual @invincible @froshberry @hermeenart @coolval @eliboy @Oneal new episode is here Quote

[b] Hmmm... interesting.... following... [/b]

Nxt plz

Next Bae

;)

Who might be d driver? Hope roshan z not dead

Wao! Snigdha sure made it out of the junqle alive. Well, its painful she didn't made it toqether with her new found love even thouqh they haven't made their relationship official yet

Hmmmm... Nice 1

Abeg nxt

i op u will be able to save him

why is it dat bad tin always apun to gud pple

pls, dnt forget to VOTE @victoriouschild as d next 2016 miss cooval God bless u as u VOTE

episode 18 ‘The terrorists are after me… ’ Before she could complete her sentence, blackness enveloped her and she crumbled into the ground in a heap as she fainted. As she opened her heavy eyes, she felt as if she had been drugged, with her head hurting. She tried to sit, eyes snapping open at once, but immediately groaned with agony when her head started throbbing. As her vision cleared, she saw that a concerned, friendly Sardar was peering at her, sitting beside her, sprinkling water on her face. ‘O Ji. Tussi thik toh ho?’ The man asked in Punjabi whether she was fine or not. Snigdha was fully alert now. She sat up carefully and looked around before saying urgently, ‘Sardar Ji, please take me to the police or army picket right away. I was kidnapped by Al Faran group and my friend is still there. I must save him as soon as possible.’ Snigdha said in Hindi. ‘Kya baat kar rahe ho jee? Aap chalo mere sath. Mei Srinagar ja raha hoon. Sab think ho jayega. Tussi chinta mat karo jee.’ The Sardar asked her to come to Srinagar with him and assured her that everything would be fine. Within one hour, Snigdha reached Srinagar, which meant that the terrorists had hidden her quite close to the capital city. Once she reached the police headquarters, things moved very fast. Although her team had left, Snigdha was put under tight security, in a comfortable guesthouse where not even the press was allowed to meet her. Snigdha went through some gruelling sessions with the police where she told them about the location of the camps, the descriptions of her captors and about Roshan. The police commissioner knew about Roshan and went into immediate action by forming a team of highly efficient commandos for a combing operation in the forest area described by Snigdha. She was pleasantly surprised to see the quick action taken by the forces and the police. Within a few hours her brother Sumit landed in Srinagar to take her back to Delhi. Feeling refreshed after a long hot bath in days, Snigdha sat wrapped in a blanket. Sumit handed her a cup of hot broth. ‘You are looking thin Sidhi! Ma would not be very pleased to see this.’ Sumit observed in his trademark funny style. ‘Bhaiya! I have come out of the most terrible time of my life! Mom must be scared to death. If at all she will be upset it will be to tell me, ‘I told you so!’ ‘Oh Yes! Never the one to let go of a chance like that! But then we never listen to her anyways.’ Sumit said smiling broadly. ‘I know, I was stubborn enough not to listen to her. But I can’t avoid challenges. This is my work. How would I know that someone out there is planning to kidnap me?’ ‘True! That’s why, I’ve chosen a sedate, boring field like management. A good take home salary. A big plush house. No liabilities. No risk. All pleasure!’ ‘Lucky you!’ Snigdha smiled at him. But in her heart of heart she knew that, in his own way her brother too had that reckless spirit. To lead his life on his own terms, without bothering about what the world thinks. Probably, that’s why he appeared so normal even after knowing that she had just returned from facing death itself! He wanted her to be normal, to feel relaxed and not panic. She was grateful for her brother’s light and humorous bantering. ‘Come on, now it’s time for us to get going! The more you will stay here, the more the security and media people will hound you. The only place where you will be absolutely safe is Delhi. So we are going to stay there for a couple of days before going to Pachmari.’

‘Yes Bhaiya, time to go. I’m just waiting to hear some news about Roshan… ’ The name slipped from her mouth. Like everyone Sumit was also aware of Roshan’s identity now as the media had splashed breaking news of Snigdha and her saviour, the famous journalist from BBC and his recent stay with the most deadly terrorist group Al Faran. He had turned into some kind of hero. Processions and candle marches had already started all over India for his safety and release. Snigdha had just switched off a high decibel panel discussion on a leading English news channel where, top journalists, politicians from major parties and social activists were engaged in a heated discussion on whys and hows of Roshan’s involvement, and his heroic deed in saving Snigdha while jeopardising his own life. She had found it hilarious to see the starched, white collared, stiff necked pseudo intellectuals discuss the pros and cons of Roshan’s actions and a situation that they had never ever come face-to-face with in their entire life. It was very easy to pass judgements and comments on the whats and whys of such situations while being so far away from the reality. Thankfully till now she had been able to evade offers of media to come out and give statements and interviews. ‘You can’t do much Sidhi. The entire J&K administration, intelligence and political machinery are involved in searching for Roshan and nabbing the terrorists. It will just be a matter of time before he is found if he is… ’ Sumit stopped before he uttered the forbidden word, looking at Snigdha’s aghast expression. ‘He will be alive. I know he is alive. He has to be alive!’ Snigdha’s voice rose vehemently, emotionally, making Sumit look at her sharply. He could feel the throbbing feeling in his sister’s voice and could see some strong emotion burning in her eyes for this man Roshan. He came and sat beside her and held her shoulders.

‘It will be alright. Control yourself. You have been so brave. It’s just a matter of few days Sidhi. You sitting here and getting worried can’t bring him back fast. Now we must leave for the airport. We have to catch a flight.’ Snigdha nodded, biting her lips. She got up, zipping the thick jacket she was wearing over her light blue denims. The jungle was colder. Here she didn’t feel so cold. Or was it that her resilience had increased? She had become immune, like Roshan? Flashes of Roshan’s strong body, his rippling muscles, his long limbs, tender touch, soft and gentle voice penetrated her mind. And she slowly moved towards her dirty, torn, dilapidated backpack which brought back flashes of memories to her. As the flight landed on the domestic airport of New Delhi, Snigdha like an automaton walked out in the smoggy, chilly weather of New Delhi which she was so used to for the last so many years. She had always loved the winters in Delhi. But surprisingly, she couldn’t feel the bite this time. She watched the typical airport traffic, the sleek underpasses leading to the city. She saw the heavy traffic, the huge neon direction signs, the automatic traffic lights, buses and cars jostling to move ahead each other, without really seeing them. Cold air blasted her face, from the open window, but she welcomed it. Her disturbed mind needed to feel something. She just couldn’t take her mind off from the image of Roshan’s unconscious form on the jeep and shuddered to think what he must be going through right at this moment. His mission to unearth the underbelly of Al Faran and his purpose to do the most path breaking story in the history of journalism lay thwarted, destroyed. The risk he had taken when he had entered the camp today seemed worthless and in vain. And Snigdha felt frustrated because if it hadn’t been for her, today Roshan would have quietly withdrawn leaving no imprint, and taking the credit to bust the most dangerous terrorist outfit in the Indian subcontinent. Her heart swelled with love and pride for him, for his courage and guts to stand by her even in the midst of utmost danger, to shield her, to protect her and to bring her back to safety. Even till the last minute, he had somehow proved his integrity and gallantry. She wished she had gone with him! Snigdha closed her eyes and laid her head on the seat of the cool cab they had taken. Oh how she wished she had gone with him. Atleast that way they would have been together. Sighing deeply, Snigdha let her head loll on the seat, as she felt her eyes drooping in exhaustion. The cab jerked to a hault and Snigdha woke up, wiping her eyes to get out of the grogginess. As she climbed out, her cell phone rang. She took out the ringing phone out of her backpack. Looking at it as if she had seen it for the first time in her life, Snigdha saw the name flashing on the screen. It was Dimple calling. ‘Pick Up Sidhi. There was no network in Jammu that’s why we were getting no calls.’ Sumit said, taking out his overnight bag from the back seat. ‘Sidhi Sidhi Sidhi!!!!’ Snigdha jumped at the screaming voice of Dimple at the other end as she picked up. ‘How are you? Are you back?’ Dimple screamed. ‘Yea Dimple. Calm down, calm down. I am back. Just reached home.’ Snigdha said dryly. Trust her hyperactive friend Dimple to be the one to call her first. Now the BBC of Delhi would be informing everyone and soon she would receive a barrage of calls from innumerable people. She was sure, Dimple would be putting an update on her arrival on facebook in no time!

Wow..Enjoying This

Wowwww! Am dying to hear what all happened to you!’ Dimple squealed. ‘You mean you want minute by minute account of who all pawed me, beat me and nearly killed me?’ Snigdha’s dry humour was never far behind. ‘What are you saying? You went through all that?’ Dimple had shock in her voice. Snigdha decided not to make her stupid friend panic and asked her to come to her place to know the juicy details in the late evening. After that there were indeed incessant calls from her family, friends and colleagues. Nitin was apologetic for leaving Srinagar, besides being terribly worried. He assured her that they finally got terrific footage, including the one that had created such a drama. He told her that he would wait for her to recuperate before she could re-start her project’s post-production. The most disturbing call was from her mother. ‘Mom! Please stop weeping. I am absolutely fine. It was just for a few days that I was in the camp and not much harm came my way.’ Snigdha was in danger of crying herself. She had realised that lately she had developed this miserable habit of weeping at the drop of a hat. Maybe her hormones were awry or she was getting old. It took another twenty minutes for her to convince her mother that she was absolutely fine and would be joining her as soon as she had all the medical check-ups that had been advised by the army officials. Staying in the jungle could have transferred some infection to her which needed to be checked. Sumit fixed up an appointment at the All India Institute of Medical Sciences with Dr. Varun Arora, one of his GP friends who called her at 9 am next day empty stomach. Though the house had not been used for the last 20 days or so, it was fairly clean. Snigdha rang up her maid who came to do the cleaning once a day, then settled down on the cane sofa, with a fluffy cushion in her lap. Before she realised, her brother was in the kitchen pottering about.

‘Hey Bhaiya! What are you doing? You won’t find anything in the fridge. House was locked for the last fortnight or so.’ ‘I know Sidhi. How about black tea?’ He called from the kitchen, dropping a metal pan, making her wince. His head popped out, an apologetic smile on his face. ‘Ooops sorry! Didn’t break anything. Would you like maggi or something?’ He asked. ‘Nah not hungry right now… black tea would do. What about dinner?’ Snigdha asked. ‘I think we should order something. You have home delivery menus?’ The black tea was soothing, and soporific unlike black coffee. She felt very tired and wanted to lie down for a while, shutting her mind to all thoughts of Roshan and the last few days. Dimple would be anyways, digging out the whole story from her later in the night, making her relive each moment again. She knew her friend and her perceptive eyes that rarely missed anything in Snigdha. Snigdha gave a few menu cards to Sumit and went inside her bedroom to lie down for a while. Her old pillow felt feathery soft under her head, making her compare it with another pillow, which was warmer, softer with a life of its own, with sinews and heartbeats, with a musky fragrance that filled her with longing. She remembered, the feel of Roshan’s chest under her face, his strong arms cuddling her, and his feather light kisses on her hair when he thought she had been asleep. Oh Yes! She remembered it all. A smile played on Snigdha’s lips, her long lashes fluttering on her cheeks, her mind swirling away to another realm, pushing her deeper and deeper into a mindless sleep. ‘And then he killed that terrorist who dared to touch you? Is that so?’ Dimple’s eyes were like saucers by now. Snigdha sighed and looked away before correcting her. ‘Dimple, he did not kill him, he hit him so hard that he fell unconscious and we were able to run away easily from there! After that, we had to run for I don’t know how many hours and miles before we looked for shelter and spent the night.’ ‘OMG! You spent the night with one of the most handsome men I’ve ever come across!!! I can’t believe your luck man!’ Dimple’s incredulous voice was on the verge of hysteria. ‘Hold on, hold on! How do you know he’s the most handsome man you have ever seen? I mean when have you met Roshan Khan?’ ‘Sweety! You don’t need to meet celebs and high fliers to know about them! He’s there in all the newspapers, magazines, TV channels for everyone to see. Drop dead gorgeous, tall, dark and handsome, rich and famous, adventurous to the hilt… words fail me totally! And you spent the night with HIM?’ Dimple looked at her with a ridiculous expression on her face. ‘Dimple! We were not in some five star hotel, having our honeymoon night together! For God’s sake, you asked me for a verbatim account that’s why I’m suffering your wide eyed assumptions. I was in bloody hell, running for my life in one of the most deadly and perilous situations, where a single bullet fired by the terrorists lurking in every nook and corner of that deep jungle could have killed us flat in two seconds.’ Snigdha shuddered remembering the spooky night. ‘Sorry Sidhi. I just got carried away when you described how Roshan saved you. It must have been one hell of a miserable night for you. But how did he get caught finally?’ Snigdha noticed that Dimple was not one bit apologetic and had curiosity written all over her face. She decided to finish her story if she wanted to be left alone from her nosey and extremely curious friend who she knew wouldn’t leave her alone till the whole sordid story was out. Dimple was more curious to know what happened between her and Roshan it seemed.

Sighing heavily she finished the story, slowly, trying her best not to express her inner turmoil and knotted feelings for Roshan. By the time she had finished telling Dimple the entire sequence of events till she was found by the Sardartruck driver and later rescued by the army and police, she felt exhausted, spent, head bowed down, hands twisting her thin cardigan’s front. Pin-drop silence followed after that. Then Dimple said in a soft voice, ‘You are scared and worried stiff about Roshan’s safety, aren’t you Sidhi?’ Snigdha lifted stricken eyes to Dimple, knowing that it would have been terribly tough for her to hide her inner feelings from her best friend. ‘He really left an imprint on you Sidhi. I can see your troubled eyes, and it’s not just worry and empathy for a fellow human being in trouble. It’s much much more than that. What exactly happened between you and Roshan?’ Dimple came straight to the point. ‘He was initially very angry because I had messed up his well laidout plan. He was confident that in spite of my abduction, he would have somehow single-handedly planned my release. My running away like that had not only put me in grave danger but his plan lay abandoned as he had very conscientiously decided to run after me to save me from the mouth of danger. Thus making it clear to the Al Faran that he was NOT one of them but from the enemy’s side. I felt guilty and helpless but grateful too because he took upon himself to help me and protect me to the extent of finally getting the noose around himself and yet helping me flee. All this has shaken me to the core Dimple. Have never met such a brave and conscientious man before and I feel…’ Snigdha stopped abruptly, unshed tears making her voice thick, head bowed staring at her knotted fingers.

onahsunday631 @fridex @pizzaro @froshberry @invincible @individual......new update is here ooooo

Pls help me call d register oooo

I believe that roshan z still alive

Interesting.. nxt

interestin...next oo..@sonshine come help wit d reg

Okay oo..... Tomorrow is another day please don't let us forget to vote for Promzy, God bless us as we are doing so.

I guesa I'm late already @Idrowest

Interesting.... Snigdha is seriously in love. Huh How i wish Roshan had avoided that place. *fingers crossed*

enjoying vhis

ah go luv o

episode 19 ‘You feel as if there is a connection between both of you… as if you have fallen in love… ’ Dimple filled in softly. ‘God! Can you believe that Dimple? Of all the people in the world, I had to fall in love with a man who I’m not sure will be alive to hear it also.’ Snigdha’s voice wobbled painfully. ‘Why do you lose hope so easily? He will be saved and alive. I’m sure of that and inside your heart of hearts even you are sure of that. Tell me, does he share your feelings?’ Snigdha looked at Dimple’s clear eyes, an expression of concern in them. ‘I have no idea. Both of us got very close that night. But… such proximity can happen in such circumstances. He hardly talked about his feelings. He is a man of the world and I’m not sure if he is married or has a woman in his life…’ ‘Just stop thinking about all that crap Sidhi. Hold on to your faith. Pray for him and wish for the best! I am sure there was a reason for you to meet him in such an adverse situation. God has strange ways to introduce us to our soulmates…’ Dimple’s dimples appeared on her smooth cheeks, as she smiled secretively, distracting Snigdha. ‘Dimple! What’s going on in your life? You seem to be happy! Has the cupid struck you finally? Has Nitin…’ Snigdha asked with a smile on her face. ‘Yes! Yes! Nitin asked me out after a few days of coming back. At first I thought it was to lament over your situation and talk about you. But soon I realised that from consoling each other, we started spending more and more time with each other. It was so spontaneous. You brought us together Sidhi. Two days ago he expressed his love for me! It was the most romantic moment in my entire life.’ Dimple stood up and twirled on her feet, making her frothy, curly hair flounce around her happy face. ‘Coming from a connoisseur like you, I am sure it must have been fantastic!’ Snigdha teased. At Dimple’s mock indignation, she corrected swiftly, ‘I mean, it was high time he expressed his love for you. All through the shoot he was mesmerised by you, and was dying to spend as much time around you as possible. I am so happy for you Dimple! Two of my best friends, together… it’s just too good to be true!! So when is the announcement?’ ‘Nitin wants to have a formal engagement ceremony sometime next month, once you have taken some rest and are back to Delhi.’ Dimple said. ‘Hey! I hope you are not delaying because of me?’ Snigdha said mildly. She was not sure how much time it will take for her to heal mentally. There was no physical healing needed in her case except for a few bruises and tired muscles. But till she hears about Roshan, she knew, she would be in a dazed state, needing a lot of peace and quiet to relax her tensed nerves. Till she hears that he’s rescued and fine, she would be on tenterhooks. ‘No silly! It’s not that. We want you to be the guest of honouryaar! After all if it hadn’t been for you, I would not have got the assignment, and if I hadn’t got the assignment, I would not have met Nitin and known him so closely, and if I hadn’t known him so closely…’ Dimple’s tirade was stopped by a laughing Snigdha, whose eyes were full of mirth and happiness for her chatterbox friend. ‘Hold on Hold on… I get the full picture! Don’t worry, I will hopefully be back next month. Just need to take my mind away from death, blood and guns. Also not to forget that I have to start the post production of my documentary for which I’ve been paid heftily!’ Snigdha said pointedly. ‘Hmmmmm… you are right. What time you are leaving tomorrow?’ Dimple had stood up, gathering her huge, bright shiny bag. Snigdha smilingly remembered Nitin’s adjective for Dimple, ‘multicoloured’ and now understood its meaning. Dimple with her tumbling curls around her fair, shining face, loved wearing bright colours ranging from flaming red, shining blue, canary yellow to rani pink or fuschia, with absolutely contrasting shoes, scarves and accessories, down to her shiny toe nails. With an array of blue, green and yellow nail paints in the market these days, she has no problem dressing up to her heart’s content. But without fail making her look exquisite and heart stopping beautiful. No wonder Nitin was so besotted with her wanting to tie her down as soon as possible. A warm feeling spread inside Snigdha and on impulse she hugged her friend, who was taken aback. Snigdha was never the one to demonstrate her feelings. ‘I am very happy for you! And I will let a small cat of my bag too! I did a bit of match making myself… you with Nitin! I had always wanted you to get selected for the film and one of reasons was to make Nitin get hooked!’ Snigdha said sheepishly. ‘I knew it! Now you can be called a true friend!’ Dimple laughed loud. ‘Now I’ll be off Sweety! You take some rest. And don’t worry. Very soon, everything will be alright. As they say, this too shall pass! We will have a Double Whammy Wedding! Just you wait!’ with that punch line, Dimple was pushed hard by Snigdha who closed the door, a smile hovering on her lips.

hmmmn....

Nice one dear..dimples am happy for u o

Haha..Nice.

Bae Go On,

Interesting.. continue

Waiting For The Next Epi

Dimples, am happy for u

Dnt 4gt, tomorrow is the D-day, one man one vote Pls, kindly cast ur vote for @victoriouschild

Dnt 4gt, tomorrow is the D-day, one man one vote Pls, kindly cast ur vote for @victoriouschild

episode 20 That night, Snigdha, twisted and turned on her single bed, eyes squeezed shut, not just trying to sleep but to ward off memories of Roshan, that kept barging in, shaking her and making her crave for him, his deep sexy voice, sometimes grating in anger and sometimes tender in soothing her, his warm intense eyes boring into her very soul, asking questions, sometimes glittering with disapproval and sometimes velvety with desire. Snigdha felt as if she was hearing his cries of appeal, to take him out of the manacles of terror and pain. She woke up in the middle of night, drenched in sweat, even in the cold wintry Delhi night, her chest heaving with panic, her heart beating with fear, her eyes frantic on her pale face, her long silky hair tumbling around her shoulders in disarray. Pushing it behind her ears, Snigdha poured a glass of water from the bottle kept on her bed side table and gulped it hungrily. She closed her eyes, to wipe out the image of tied and tortured Roshan. What must be happening to him? Are the terrorists punishing him right at this minute? The army officer she had met before leaving had assured her that Roshan would be alive because it was in the nature of the terrorists to announce any death incurred at their hands of anyone from outside in a big way, so that they spread the message of terror all over the world. Especially, in the case of an international personality, they will make a public spectacle of his death if and when it happens. As no such announcement had been done online or on TV, it was most likely that Roshan was still alive. This was supposed to relieve Snigdha, but she had become more and more tensed, trying her best to hide her feelings. She could now imagine the bone crunching torture that Roshan must be going through at their hands. Her heart went out to him and she closed her eyes, folding her hands, to pray silently to the Almighty to save and help him from the clutches of death. After the silent prayer, she lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, till she heard the sound of birds outside.

Their flight landed at 11 am sharp, the bright sun at Bhopal hurting Snigdha’s sleep induced reddened eyes, however much she had splashed cold water on her face. Her family was there to receive her with bouquets and warm hugs, making her throat close with emotion. Her mother’s puffed and red face proved it that she had been weeping non-stop. Her tight hug made Snigdha suddenly relaxed, and after a long time she let herself be hugged and kissed by her whole family. She hadn’t even got the chance to touch the feet of her parents. Snigdha looked at the kids hugging her and looking at her with expressions of elation on their faces. She felt herself enveloped in a golden glow of affection and love, a feeling of security and warmth as if she had no worries now. She answered everyone’s questions incessantly, sometimes laughing, other times seriously, till her mother scolded her father and kids to keep quiet and let her relax. ‘Sidhi is going to stay with us for a long time now. So you can talk to her once she’s relaxed and taken full rest. Once we reach Pachmari, I don’t want anyone of you to irritate her. Don’t you see she has come out of a bad situation? You people think it was an adventure!’ Her mother took control of the situation in a minute silencing the kids and her husband. Snigdha smiled at her Dad who winked at her. She knew her daredevil father would not take a no for an answer and would want to know the whole story and that too soon. The four hour journey to Pachmari was as usual scenic, mesmerising and tranquil for Snigdha, making her feel relaxed and at peace with herself at once. As soon as they crossed the towns and hit the long winding mountainous road leading up to the hill town of Pachmari, she opened the glass window, enjoying the cool breeze on her face, wind whipping her hair, and the emerald green of the trees and the winding roads seeping into her, making her calm. She loved the peace and tranquillity of the majestic Satpura ranges, the reddish brown hills and the winding rivers below. Her head bowed in front of a roadside primitive shrine, where incense sticks were stuck by some traveller, its smoke covering the vermilion and oil smeared block of stone worshipped by people since ages. She always had this habit of wishing for someone close to her, in the family or friends circle whenever she had crossed this shrine in the past. Today only one name came to her mind whose safety and well-being she was wishing for in front of this primitive God. The car zipped past the temple, and as Pachmari loomed in front of them, the telltale drizzle started, making the breeze cooler, and day turning gray and dark in an instant. Evening had approached fast without her realising and she now craved for a hot cup of tea which she wanted to enjoy sitting on the verandah of her father’s sprawling house, watching the drizzle in the waning light. 

Nice Piece Bae

nice one #following

Snigdha woke-up to another tranquil and quiet wintry day at Pachmari. Taking a quick wash and brushing her teeth, Snigdha wrapped herself in a warm shawl and pushed her feet in warm mules, before sauntering towards the sunny kitchen at the back of the bunglow for her morning cuppa of tea, in her old big tumbler, with a winking smiley in yellow printed, and corner slightly chipped. In spite of her Mom’s rebuke on not using broken or chipped utensils, somehow Snigdha had a fetish to use old, very old things. Once she got used to anything, her clothes, shoes, utensils, she hated using anything new unless the thing is rendered useless. In the kitchen her mother was pottering about, preparing a lavish breakfast for Snigdha. Snigdha peeped inside and found mouth watering delicacies on display. She saw crisp alu tikkis, steaming fluffy poha, juicy khoyajalebis; which a sweetshop made very well in Pachmari, creamy, thick firni or saffron rice pudding in small earthenware kulhar or cups and thin, crusty methi parathas with oodles of green coriander chutney which was her mother’s specialisation. And nearly everything made by her loving hands. Snigdha hugged her Mom from behind saying, ‘Mummy, so many things! I won’t be able to eat it all’. She said mischievously, picking up a crisp tikki and taking a bite into its delicious filling of finely chopped beans, carrot and capsicum and soft mashed potato outer layer. Her Mom’s alu tikkis and firnis could get her the Master Chef Award, thought Snigdha fondly. Arrey! Today’s breakfast is full of your favourites. Although you very well know, that when kids are here, your glutton father gets another excuse to make me slog in the kitchen making dishes that otherwise I won’t allow him to eat. His sugar is normal these days and I wouldn’t want him to overindulge.’ She said with a complaining note in her voice. ‘Come on Mummy, Dad is so conscious. He will never overindulge. His five km walk daily takes care of that! And living in Pachmari anyways whets your appetite so much. ‘Snigdha took the tumbler of tea offered to her by their family cook, Ravinder who usually felt redundant when her mother was in the kitchen shooing him off to just chops vegetables or lay the table. He, on the other hand, was a very fussy master of the kitchen. Except the lady of the house, he frowned upon anyone who dared to enter his domain where he pittered and pottered to produce some palate tickling and mind boggling dishes made out of mostly stuff he got from the kitchen garden and the backyard, including the big fat chickens.

@onahsunday631 @hermeenart @invincible @individual @ele @pizzaro @tenniebenson @fridex @krizzy @promzy @victoriouschild new episode is here

[color =green]We appreciate all our fans, friends and family that have been voting for[/color] @victoriouschild [color =green]from the beginning till this point.[/color] [color =red]As we all know this is the final round which means 1 man 1 vote. We would urge you to vote for Fabulous Vicky[/color] @victoriouschild .[color =blue]pls let your vote count for us and we would never disappoint you. One love from all of us @ Team vicky[/color] [IMG]https://fbcdn-photos-a-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xft1/v/t1.0-0/cp0/e15/q65/s480x480/13567165_490310371177417_6403789958329045699_n.jpg?efg=eyJpIjoiYiJ9&oh=2210b85febc395c03ccc7cdf3a017353&oe=57EE0C49&__gda__=1476274616_5351698bc8be8037ac4e9b58793b57a4[/IMG] [IMG]https://scontent-amt2-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/fr/cp0/e15/q65/13600026_490310367844084_7513075636846482466_n.jpg?efg=eyJpIjoiYiJ9&oh=324619aef4c559278111877201c752b3&oe=57EDD60B[/IMG] [IMG]https://fbcdn-photos-c-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xta1/v/t1.0-0/cp0/e15/q65/s480x480/13615456_490310364510751_5913219432555793207_n.jpg?efg=eyJpIjoiYiJ9&oh=dbe1fe0f49fd5e4c20cd9ea7463d7788&oe=57FDC664&__gda__=1476188122_8ddb513c26102cb1937e37c63151143f[/IMG] [IMG]https://scontent-amt2-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/fr/cp0/e15/q65/13567198_490068934534894_6989788404564930668_n.jpg?efg=eyJpIjoiYiJ9&oh=e1c2603ae10926574ba51676456237bf&oe=58034FCF[/IMG] TEAM VICKY @eliboy @hauwa @j-sharp @macrex.

Great..sidgni God will grant u ur heart desire

ride on

ride on

next please

It really qood to be back home u know especially after a lonq time of absence. Seeinq ur family in one peace as they 'll all be smilinq happily to see u back in their lives once aqain, the warm welcome that 'll follow sooth and all that is which is so beautiful and Snigdha is not an exclusion riqht now. Ride on @pixzybee am really enjoyinq every bit of this...

nice one

continue...

episode 21 While breakfast was being laid, a heavy discussion was ensuing on the verandah between her father and sister on one side and her brother Sumit and the kids on the other on the preferred activity for the weekend. Her brother’s camp was voting for a jungle safari whereas her then father’s camp wanted to go for a picnic at the Apsara Vihar Waterfall which was a good enough trek for everyone. Snigdha sat sipping her aromatic earl grey tea that her mother had in her kitchen for special guests and herself, and watched the playful discussion going on. The weather was bright, cold and sunny making it a wonderful combination to sit on the open patio and enjoy the beautiful surroundings. The bunglow was a bit away from the town area, therefore not much vehicular noise penetrated here. Huge trees shielded the winding roads leading to the main gate of the house. A strange peace enveloped Snigdha and she stretched her legs in front of her, cradling the cup in her hands to feel the heat in her cold hands. Pachmari in November starts getting chilly but the nights are colder. ‘Mausi, which party are you in? Its Friday, we have to decide!’ Khushi, her sister’s 10 yr daughter implored. ‘Well, the choices are tough.’ Snigdha said smiling at the group that was now all looking at her. She knew they wanted her to feel relaxed and enjoy her time here, forgetting her nightmarish past of the last week or so. ‘I think safari will be adventurous. We will take a night safari!’ Sumit declared. ‘No way! Snigdha has just come out of a nightmare spent in a jungle. We must go to a relaxing spot, like a waterfall, we can splash around and chill and even cook dal, bati, churma and your favourite mutton curry!’ Sumedha’s tempting words made everyone silent for a second, then suddenly everyone started speaking all at once voicing their opinion. ‘Silence!’ Billowed her Dad’s voice in mock anger. ‘Snigdha will decide. Tell us Snigdha what do you want?’ Cornered Snigdha said what came to her mind first. ‘I think the picnic would be soothing. And I would love to eat dal bati churma!!!’ Snigdha would have preferred to sit at home, reading a book or listening to her favourite old Hindi melodies, but she didn’t want to break her family’s hearts. They were making an effort to distract her and she was happy to go their way. Who knows the picnic would refresh her and take her out of the mire of dark emotions which plagued her at night and forced her to be awake till wee hours of morning. The breakfast was another happy, jubilant affair, with the kids and her brother fighting over how many jalebis to eat. In spite of her mother’s mild rebukes, no one paid attention and the table which just an hour ago was full of delicious dishes, were shorn of it all, leaving just a few crumbs and pieces as witness. Her brother was the biggest culprit of all, having a mammoth’s appetite, he ate everything that came his way! Snigdha laughed so hard, that tears came into her eyes, at the whacky humour of her brother and the antic of the kids. Her father too with his dry humour made the atmosphere light and happy. ‘Sidhi, let Ravinder bring our tea to the verandah. Come I have something to show you.’ Her Dad pushed the chair and got up speaking in a more serious tone to her. Washing her hands, Snigdha followed her Dad. The picnic at Apsara Vihar was the most relaxing and enjoyable experience for Snigdha. She could feel the happy, blissful atmosphere take away the pain and biting tension that had been searing her in the last few days. She made herself get involved in the activities. Paddling her feet in the gurgling water with her Mom and sister, tickling over the shiny stones, drinking chilled juice from bottles immersed in cold water flowing down the rocks, eating the steaming hot dal, and bati made right there in the midst of the jungle and lying down on the sun warmed rocks, with her eyes closed, trying to forget the events of recent past. The day ended peacefully. While the gang got engaged in an animated singing game,Antakshari, where each person was supposed to sing a new film song starting from the last letter of the previous song, Snigdha let her head roll on the cushioned seat of the car, closing her eyes, and listening to the funny contest going on between the kids and her brother.

The weeks passed fast and quick. Each day Snigdha scoured the newspapers and news channels for any breakthrough in the abduction of Roshan. Her eyes never tired of seeing his smiling picture that flashed on TV and in newspapers. She had secretly saved all cuttings and kept them in her cupboard under her clothes, looking at his faded picture before sleeping every night. She dreamt of him without fail every night. His face was deeply imprinted on her mind and she just couldn’t take it away even while she was asleep. On the last Sunday of the month, Nitin called and asked hesitatingly, ‘Hey Snigdha, how do you feel about coming back? The film needs to be edited soon… ’ ‘Yes Nitin, I agree. I was about to discuss this with you. I think I should comeback now… its just that… there is no news of…’ her voice trailed away. ‘Such things take time. You very well know he is still alive. When the police raided, Al faran had already changed their location. Otherwise, till now they would have been caught. But very soon, we will hear some good news. I saw it on BBC yesterday. Even Scotland Yard has had a meeting with the Indian Police two days back. Something big is being planned.’

‘Yes, I guess so. And you are right, I need to finish what I had started. Give me a couple of days. I’ll let you know when my tickets are booked.’ It was not easy convincing her mother about her departure, but with some persuasion she relented. Snigdha left for Delhi within next few days. Delhi was still cold and rainy, with the last of the January chills affecting the whole city. The gray and dreary weather somehow reflected Snigdha’s mood, but she strengthened her resolve to push any depressive thoughts behind, and start work as soon as she was back. Watching the logged footage, Snigdha relived each moment spent in Kashmir once again. Watching footage of Roshan, made her quiver inside, her heart beating fast. And suddenly, she felt she could now start her script for the final editing of the film. Her nimble fingers flowed on the keyboard, words flowed out of her mind, dipped in emotion and feelings, that turned her narrative into a highly emotionally charged script which she knew would make hearts cry, and strongest people shudder. She brought the flames of the paradise called Kashmir alive through her words which talked of real stories, harrowing tales and nerve wracking completely alive experiences. When she started editing the film, with Dimple’s anchor links and evocative visuals, and the heart touching narrative, the entire office at Triple Eye stood behind her to see the story unfurl in the most beautiful documentary ever made. Snigdha felt as if she was indeed living each moment. That night, Snigdha slept very peacefully, without any nightmares, as if she had exorcised the demons inside her. She held the warm pillow and breathed evenly, while closing her eyes, and going into deep slumber. The next day dawned fresh and bright, sun making the Delhi weather better after a series of winter showers. For a fleeting second, Snigdha thought of Roshan and the biting cold he must be feeling in Kashmir, but she pushed that thought away and tried to recall his mischievous smiling face, making her feel instantly better. Next weekend, Snigdha was invited for the screening of her film, Flames of Paradise, at the India Habitat Center, which Triple Eye had organised. Eminent people were invited in the function, which was to have the screening, a panel discussion followed by a formal dinner party. Snigdha had decided to wear a long, high neck slim fitting silk peacock blue kurta, slit high, teemed with straight line palazzos, silky and smooth around her ankles clad in high heeled shoes. She decided to leave her hair loose, the cascade shimmering at her back. A gold smooth stud adorned her ears. A dash of soft flowery fragrance at her throat completed her preparation before Dimple and Nitin came to pick her up. ‘Wow Sidhi. You are looking so hot!’ Dimple complimented her, hugging her. ‘So are you Dimple, as usual.’ Snigdha observed that Dimple looked extra beautiful tonight, with her new found love making her literally glow. She was wearing an off white and gold dress, with a fitting bodice and flowy, shimmery skirt which reached just below her knees, making her curvaceous body, look stunning. She could judge by Nitin’s proud smile and possessive hand on her waist that she had been successful in making a great impression. They left for the venue in Nitin’s silver sedan. It was a glittery evening, with a lot of who’s who of media and political circles spotting the carpeted banquet hall. After a short cocktail, the event started. The documentaryFlames of Paradise, was watched with bated breath, in pin-drop silence and an earth shattering applause awaited the ending, making Snigdha’s heart swell with pride and happiness. The evening thereafter passed like a dream. The question and answer session was full of energy, enthusiasm and animated discussions. Media covered it. Politicians appreciated her effort to expose the truth by putting her life in danger. She was congratulated for her daredevil venture and was named a ‘braveheart’. Feeling light with so much praise and appreciation, Snigdha, after a couple of hours extricated herself from a group of lofty gentlemen from high-fly political and corporate circles, and walked towards where Dimple and Nitin were standing in a group. Just as she reached the group, someone said loudly, ‘Switch on the news. Roshan Khan is on TV. He has been rescued.’

Eh Eh..Rescued??

*Carry Go Bae.*

wow!! at last,,,,,next pliz

whao.... capping a great week for you snigdha

ope oo!.. @last @pixybee my dear next!!!!

Waow....thats great o

rescued?

episode 22 There was a major flurry after that. The huge LCD on the wall was switched on and all eyes glued to the screen. Snigdha felt her heart would pop out of her mouth. Dimple held her trembling fingers. She felt faint when the exhausted, tired face of Roshan came on screen. It looked as if he was walking amidst tight security and huge crowd surrounding him, at the airport. His hair was longer and much more tousled than she remembered. His shaggy, tired face, was bent low, a furry jacket thrown around his broad shoulders. Suddenly, he looked directly into the camera and smiled faintly, and Snigdha could feel her heart somersault. ‘Ouch! Sidhi, are you going to break my fingers, man?’ Snigdha quickly removed her fingers that were gripping Dimples hard and concentrated on the news and the scroll that was flashing on the TV screen. It said a huge combing operation in the Kupwara region, had managed to rescue Roshan, who was unharmed as the terrorists were planning to use him as a hostage and put much bigger demands to the Indian Government. But before they could do anything like that, the police had nabbed them and rescued Roshan Khan. Snigdha drank this bit of news thirstily and looked at the same shots of Roshan being repeated on the screen over and over again, of him being escorted out of the airport.

‘Why don’t you try to get in touch with him?’ Dimple implored. ‘How can I? I have no idea where he lives, where he is at the moment?’ Snigdha said biting her lips in worry. ‘Shall I ask in the media circles? Maybe someone knows…’ ‘Dunno Dimple. Maybe we should give some time… maybe we should wait… the case is still hot and high profile. He would be under tight security.’ ‘Hell Sidhi! Let it be high profile. You have the right to know where he is. I am sure he must be worried sick to know about you. And even he wouldn’t know where to look for you. Let me ask around… please…’ On Snigdha’s nod, Dimple started calling her friends in media and checking out his whereabouts. In no time, she got a call from Nitin, who gave an address of some Greater Kailash house where Roshan was staying. ‘See? Now you can go and meet him! ‘Dimple jumped with excitement. ‘You think so? Shouldn’t I wait for a couple of days…’ ‘OMG! Sidhi, while you wait, he might just be whisked off to London by his family and colleagues. You got to move fast! Move!’ Thrusting the slip of paper with his address in her hands, Dimple pushed Snigdha out of the apartment with her car keys and bag. As Snigdha parked her car in the first available vacant space of the parking lot of Greater Kailash‘s supposedly posh area, she felt a twinge of foreboding. What if he is not too pleased to see her? What if their time spent in the jungles are wiped out from his mind? What if it was just another experience for him? She stood still for a few moments digesting her thoughts full of ‘what ifs’ and took a step back, as if to turn tail and run as fast as she could. Why was she getting nervous? Wasn’t she sure of her feelings? That she had madly and hopelessly fallen in love with Roshan? True, Roshan had not expressed anything. But she had to know how he felt. She had to see him face-to-face to know for sure he is indeed fine. Taking a deep breath, Snigdha walked towards the neat bunglow, with a security guard sitting outside in a cubicle and an intercom phone. Watching him talk to someone inside and asking her to go, Snigdha forced her nerves to calm down, her erratic heart gradually slowing down. Before she could lift her hand to ring the bell, the huge door opened and she found herself looking at a tall, elegant, beautiful woman in 30s, wearing a stylish trouser suit, and expensive jewels looking very much like diamonds flashing in her ears and neck. ‘Hi there Snigdha… is it?’ The woman drawled, in a heavy, husky voice. ‘Err… Yes, I am Snigdha.’ She waited for the woman to introduce herself, but when no response came from her smiling mouth, Snigdha, stood quietly, looking behind the woman. ‘Come come, come inside. Roshan mentioned you. Told me about the… terrible time you spent together in Srinagar.’ Snigdha watched the woman’s back, as she sauntered inside with a provocative sway of her hips. The slight pause when she said ‘terrible’ was not lost on Snigdha. Snigdha’s brows furrowed with puzzlement, as she tried to place the woman in Roshan’s life. She must be close to him, if he had shared about Snigdha to her. ‘Sit… Sit. Well, Roshan has always been adventurous, you know. Always looking for dangerous stories, always wanting to be the first to do the most hazardous stories. But this time, he was interrupted. He could not finish his mission. And you know the reason, don’t you?’ Snigdha suddenly saw the sharp, beautiful eyes boring into her, with antagonism and accusation. Snigdha was speechless and stunned to see a strange woman feeling so much of anger and antagonism for her. ‘I have come to meet Roshan. Is he in?’ Snigdha decided to be upfront. ‘Oh Yes. He is getting ready. He will be down soon. He has been informed about you. What will you have? Tea… Coffee?’ The lady smiled. ‘No thanks! Are you…?’ Snigdha didn’t know what she meant to ask.

Planning To Hold Roshan As Hostage!!..Well The Next Epi Would Tell!

Next Bae :mrgreen:

‘Oh… I forgot to introduce myself. I assumed that you would guess. I am… Mrs Roshan Khan of course!’ The lady smiled broadly, without it reaching her eyes. Gasping with shock, Snigdha stood up and looked at the smiling woman with horror. She felt her ears buzzing with tension. Her eyes started burning with unshed tears. The whole scene was fraught with tensed silence. ‘Ahh… so you were not aware. Is it?’ The lady stood up too, a few inches taller than Snigdha in her very high spiky heels. ‘I thought Roshan told you. He usually tells the women he meets on such escapades of his, so that the score is clear. Absolutely, no commitments from him. After all eventually he comes back to me.’ The lady’s smile was full of venom and Snigdha felt her face go hot with shame and embarrassment. Without uttering a single word, she turned quickly and ran towards the door, fiddling with the complicated lock system. She opened it and ran towards the main gate. Before she could open it, a masculine hand covered her hands. Snigdha stood still. Roshan was behind her, covering her hand, and turning her towards him. Snigdha gritted her teeth and willed herself to be in control. She didn’t want him to see her like this. It was her fault that she had fallen in love with him, and seen much more into the situation that probably had occurred due to the abnormal circumstances. As she turned towards him, she lifted her head, taking a deep breath. Roshan’s breath got caught in his throat, when he saw Snigdha in tears, her big eyes surrounded by long wet lashes. He saw her quivering lips, expressing the hurt and shock that she had just suffered at the hands of that witch Sagarika. That lady had done enough damage to his life till now and he is not going to allow her to ruin it any more. Roshan lifted his hands and gripped Snigdha’s shoulders and said softly.

Next pls

If u post again pls tag my name

I did buh couldn't get through due to the network

next na... suspense is killing

nice one.. next

Gush! Despirate women, they wouldn't like to see their man qet close to their fellow woman. Most at times they hardly qive their man a breathinq space, and they 'll want to qo anywhere with their man in the quest that they don't want any woman to come snatch their husband from them. This so obnoxious!

wat did he say o

dnt kill pesin wit suspense na

ah!!..why stop here nah..

dnt kill person with suspense nah..enjoying this!!

Interesting story. Please fire on.

The Final episode ‘Hi Snigdha. Good to see you! You are looking very beautiful.’ Snigdha watched the smile curving Roshan’s full lips and firmed her heart to be cool. ‘Good to see you too. I was getting worried therefore, decided to come and meet you…’ Snigdha’s voice trailed away. ‘If you hadn’t come to meet me, I would have. But why were you going away without meeting me?’ Roshan asked tilting his head to look at her with a small knowing smile on his lips. ‘Well… I thought maybe you were not at home. And then I met…’ before she could complete her sentence, he inserted, ‘Sagarika.’ ‘Oh… Yes, Sagarika… your… your… wife.’ Snigdha said the word painfully, swallowing her pride. ‘Nope. Sagarika… my ex-wife!’ he said tightly. Snigdha’s head jerked up and she stared at him in surprise. ‘Yes. Sagarika is the quintessential troublemaker in my life. We got divorced a few years ago and she lives here in Delhi. Yesterday, she brought me to my home and as I was in no shape to argue her decision, I let her lead. I thought she had changed and had matured but I was wrong. She still manages to create trouble in my life. I heard what all she said Snigdha. And I don’t blame you for believing her. I would have done the same. But, tell me, don’t you trust me?’ Roshan asked softly. His eyes were glittering with an emotion, Snigdha didn’t dare to name. Her own heart was beating quite hard. She opened her mouth to speak, when suddenly the front door opened hard with a bang and Sagarika came out, carrying a voluminous designer bag. She walked towards them, and sniffed. Without saying anything she walked quickly towards the gate and walked out. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish!’ Roshan pronounced in good humour, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Lets go inside, to a little more privacy.’ Roshan held his hand out, and Snigdha put hers in it. Linking his strong fingers with her soft ones, Roshan lead her into the big house, crossing the hall, he entered a room which looked like a study and locked it before turning towards her. Snigdha’s heart did a flip-flop at the intense look Roshan gave her. Snigdha ran her eyes all over Roshan who was clad in a black trousers and formal light blue shirt. His long hair had been trimmed since she last saw him on TV and his face was clean shaven. Noticing a red scar on his forehead, Snigdha’s hand reached to touch it, her fingers caressing it softly. She saw Roshan’s eyes close and slowly he lifted his hand to cover her fingers and bring it close to his lips, kissing each finger one by one, making Snigdha’s heartbeats race.

Episode 23(Final episode) ‘Hi Snigdha. Good to see you! You are looking very beautiful.’ Snigdha watched the smile curving Roshan’s full lips and firmed her heart to be cool. ‘Good to see you too. I was getting worried therefore, decided to come and meet you…’ Snigdha’s voice trailed away. ‘If you hadn’t come to meet me, I would have. But why were you going away without meeting me?’ Roshan asked tilting his head to look at her with a small knowing smile on his lips. ‘Well… I thought maybe you were not at home. And then I met…’ before she could complete her sentence, he inserted, ‘Sagarika.’ ‘Oh… Yes, Sagarika… your… your… wife.’ Snigdha said the word painfully, swallowing her pride. ‘Nope. Sagarika… my ex-wife!’ he said tightly. Snigdha’s head jerked up and she stared at him in surprise. ‘Yes. Sagarika is the quintessential troublemaker in my life. We got divorced a few years ago and she lives here in Delhi. Yesterday, she brought me to my home and as I was in no shape to argue her decision, I let her lead. I thought she had changed and had matured but I was wrong. She still manages to create trouble in my life. I heard what all she said Snigdha. And I don’t blame you for believing her. I would have done the same. But, tell me, don’t you trust me?’ Roshan asked softly. His eyes were glittering with an emotion, Snigdha didn’t dare to name. Her own heart was beating quite hard. She opened her mouth to speak, when suddenly the front door opened hard with a bang and Sagarika came out, carrying a voluminous designer bag. She walked towards them, and sniffed. Without saying anything she walked quickly towards the gate and walked out. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish!’ Roshan pronounced in good humour, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Lets go inside, to a little more privacy.’ Roshan held his hand out, and Snigdha put hers in it. Linking his strong fingers with her soft ones, Roshan lead her into the big house, crossing the hall, he entered a room which looked like a study and locked it before turning towards her. Snigdha’s heart did a flip-flop at the intense look Roshan gave her. Snigdha ran her eyes all over Roshan who was clad in a black trousers and formal light blue shirt. His long hair had been trimmed since she last saw him on TV and his face was clean shaven. Noticing a red scar on his forehead, Snigdha’s hand reached to touch it, her fingers caressing it softly. She saw Roshan’s eyes close and slowly he lifted his hand to cover her fingers and bring it close to his lips, kissing each finger one by one, making Snigdha’s heartbeats race.

‘I thought of you each moment, each second. The chief was trying not to torture me too much as he had planned some worse fate for me. Maybe on camera execution or making me hostage till their demands were fulfilled. I had no fear of all that. My only regret was that I couldn’t meet you, hold you, and be with you.’ Roshan moved closer and took Snigdha in his arms, holding her close to his chest, engulfing her in his big, strong arms, his hands meshed in her hair. Snigdha savoured the exquisite pleasure she felt at having him so close to her. For long minutes they remained like that, holding on to each other for life. Slowly, Roshan lifted his head and brought his hands up to cup her face and in slow motion Snigdha saw his head coming close to her, his lips touching her own with tenderness, moving slowly, the fire building up. A moan escaped Snigdha’s lips as all her pent up emotions spilled over, and she raised her arms to curve around his neck. Roshan’s control broke loose and he slanted his head to kiss Snigdha deeply and hungrily. The time had stopped for the two of them, as if nothing and no one existed for them. The agonising weeks of separation made them desperate to find in each other the solace that only they could give to each other. The love that Snigdha felt for Roshan spilled over uncontrollably, making her actions uninhibited. After what seemed like hours, Roshan lifted his head and looked at Snigdha with smouldering eyes. ‘Before I break all barriers and whisk you off to my room, I need to tell you that I adore you and crave for you. I can’t imagine my life without you. And I know you feel the same. Just tell me, you will be with me always, wake up with me every morning and let me take care of you all our lives?’ Snigdha felt her mouth open in the biggest surprise she had ever received in her life. ‘In a nutshell, will you marry me?’ Roshan said looking deeply into her stunned eyes. Snigdha could only ask, ‘When?’ ‘Today… tomorrow… as soon as possible!’ Roshan brought her even closer to himself. ‘Yes Roshan, I will!’ Roshan gave a whoop of pleasure and kissed her hard once, before saying, ‘You know I love you, don’t you? ‘Yes Mr. Khan. And I love you more!’ Snigdha said with a brilliant smile. Roshan’s face split into a wide smile. His eyes roamed all over her smiling face, that was so full of love for him, that he could visibly feel the flames of their love and passion surround them, making them burn in them. He knew that he had found his flames of paradise, in which he was waiting to get doused. He bent his head once again, to seal their promise, the promise to love and cherish each other lifelong THE END........ Thank you guys for ur comments nd encouragement....u guys are the best... expect moooore....

@onahsunday631 @invincible @individual @pizzaro @fridex@tenniebenson @froshberry @hermeenart @topbliss@promzy@victoriouschild@ele@eliboy final episode is here

help me call the register oooooo

Wow,nice Ending

What a great story ..more ink to ur biro dear @pixzybee

Nyc story @pixzybee more ink to ur pen expecting more stories frm yhu

nice ending...really enjoyed the story!

Wow! A very interesting story... Thumbs up

Awwwww

@pixzybee sannu... na u try pass Nice story

Wao! This is really a breath takinq. Nice job, u had never made life borinq in here, keep it up @pixzybee

wow.....nice ending

Wow! Wow!! Love is indeed a beautiful thing. Wonderful story Here @Pixzybee. That was so so interesting. *kudos to ya*

Choi...what an interesting story with a beautiful ending...more ink to your pen @pixzybee

Nice story

Loi

Hmm..nearly gave up at first ,not knowing it was a time bond ready to explode eventually. I savoured every bit of it. Kudos ma'am? Mr and Mrs Khan;love,love,love! ❤?

Nice story nd nice ending dear

Interesting And Nice Ending

Wow! xo interesting