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Purva Grover 9999178718 grover.purva@gmail.com

366 SIN NORMA

GLE.

GIGGL

L. INTER RUP

TIONS.

LOVE.

HATE. H UNT. M O OM. M L D .

2 COLOU 5,000 + IL. NEW . SALES R. GIRL MOM. . EXCEL FRIEND LAST C S S , HEET. M 2 AM FR HANCE AUNTIE EN WHO IENDS. . SEARC S. KEEP SUCCE W H. EX-F YOUR E O O S E S. SHIT, D. WHIT ILES. PR Y E S O O E WASH DATE. L PEN. DE EGNAN H S H I T .

AUNCH . PLANS ADLINE FAME. H T FRIEN . WINE. . PMSIN MAGA DS. DEA .R. DEPA Z G C INES. S DLINE. HEESE. RTMENT . STAPL WEEKEN O ER WITH BABY S TICKING . LEAVE LAAH S D BREA HOWER S, CL & PINS. SE OMWA B O K ON A X E S. GREY S. EL. WHY R. EVER N S I T W I V E E EKDAY . WHEN YONE’S HAIR. C MORE C S E R V A . .

NTS. CL HOT AN OLOUR HOW. W INVITED HAMAK ASSIFIE , HAIR D RICH . WEIGH AIT. FAI . WTF. R D , S T S T H .

U I S C G .

N T PRAY. A ONVEN ER-IN-L , NOW. AIN. LO HIGH-R AW. LET T EDUC UNTIES. SS. APP ESOLUT FASTER A HAL. LU . THE D MORE ION PIC RAISAL TED AN O N .

D FAIR. TURES. T COM S CH BRE H A H RATE PE I R RELIEF. PANEER , THE D AK. NO ESIGNA R PLATE BIG REL OT CO . NOW VEL. MA TION. B . FLIRT. M IEF. O A G T R N H E K N A COFFEE NTA. W EVER. P T WILL G ACCOU IS LOVE A , A POT F XING. B UNDIT. NTS, NE ET YOU . THE RI EDIT LIS ULL. DIN REATHE W ONE M A GHT TIM R R TS. IED. GI . SQUEE S, MAN NERS. V E .

F THE RIG Y. DESI ZE. SAR IOLINS. TS. LIST SMOKE G S EES. CH HT MAN SOBER. . HOPE NATION RS. WEE AMAK, S. PICTU DRUNK . D.O.B KLY OF S T A T U . .

S. RELA F. COM RES, CO SLOSHE P E O P GIRL W L T E PENSAT D. LAST IONSHI . PLACE NFEREN HO GO P STATU ORY OF SINGLE S. COV CE CAL T MARR S F B ER. PRO . THE SE . SUITS. LS. E S T I F E R D I E . THE G REVERT CRET. R PS. CUB ND. HU CLOCK I A T RL WHO GS. REC ICLES. P O MAIL TE PER W , TICKIN ORDS. T S. PRES APER C GOT EN G. BEST ORD, S HE GIRL UTS. ME GAGED RELEAS FRIEND WORK ETINGS WHOSE ES. DEA . FRUST S. TOKE FROM H . FIGHT RATED DLINES LAST NA NS. BITC OME. S T .

F A STATUS OR SMO ME LES SEL HES. CO U C M L. THING KS, SOC KE BREA ESSAGE LLEAGU HIGH H S TO DO IAL LIFE S. SMSE KS FOR ES, MA EELS. M LE COL . SHOP S NONB EASURE .

E B F A O C R HELORE LEAGUE E I TURN FOR A MENTS. INTERN TTE. HEA GUY, W S. LOO 26, 27, RING, T S. DIAR S, OFFIC ITH A G DLINES 28 29…

WO RIN Y ENTRI . THE E LOOS UY. MA STOP C G S .

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CTURES O RRIED F SCARED P U R F7. SPEL N I NTERS. TING. B . BACK RIENDS . SHIT S L CHEC FAILED IOLOG , HANG UP DISK CARED K. PRES T ICAL O U I . .

P N I L D N G O E J T N .

A ERNET C OUT WI TATION DHOLKI D .

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E A S R U T ES FOR UNS. KI MMER V D. WRIT STAY W M L HOLIDA L S A , .

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HE URG H A BO RIAGE. BIRTHD INTER W Y, VAC Y. SURV AY. AN E TO KI FINALLY E D ATION, D I N N LL I G VE. AD . FAME. IVERSA .

S HONEY M I L V E RY DAT S ERTISEM M .

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H A P ED. OFF RAYER. PY. LON 01 MAR ICIALLY COMFO G DISTA RIED. INSANE RT. DRE NCE, AMS. A . TERRIB MBITIO LY CON NS. SCR FUSED IPT. ING 25

-YEAR-

!

dear diary...

weheartit.com

Here’s what lies inside.

Flip through the section heads.

Book description

Introduction to the title

Will it sell?

About me

Meet the chapters

To know more

dear diary...

INTRODUCTION

TO THE TITLE

It all began on a lovely rainy day. I was munching on choco chip cookies, indulging in a cup of cinnamon coffee and reading a book by one of my favourite authors.

The sound of the drizzle, the aroma of the coffee beans & the smell of an old book inspired me to write this tale. Ideally, that’s how I would have wanted the first few lines of my debut novel to read so that’s why I wrote them here.

The truth.

It all began on a muggy summer evening. I was cribbing about traffic. I was finally getting a chance to do the kind of work I’d always wanted. My shoes were pinching my feet. I had been working for three weekends in a row. I was being compelled to hear and sympathise with a friend who was going through her fifth break-up in two months. I was trying to book myself tickets for the evening show. And in the middle of this just another regular day I was trying to figure out the answer to the question – When did I turn 30? Not that I hadn’t realised just that I had failed to keep pace with the calendar. That’s when I decided to look back and ahead. The result a regular script gone hilariously wrong.

Last I remember I was 26. Now, 26 is a sensitive age you’d agree if you have been there. It’s an age where all kinds of friends are best friends, all kinds of heart breaks are worth endless discussions, all kinds of poison are called alcohol and yes as for men one begins to feel the scarcity. The sad bit is it doesn’t end there. One grows up and turns 27. But that was just the sad bit, the saddest bit being that you don’t just turn 27 you turn 28, 29 and 30 too. No prizes for guessing what changes. The scarce becomes rare and rare becomes extinct. You begin to stop worrying about the number of tigers alive. From here on each single man wears a tag, Grab now – last chance. This goes on for a while wherein astrologers, aunts, neighbours, cousins, etcetera play their insignificant roles and soon you realise your life’s got dotted with too many such people, places and props. You are clueless about what to do with them. Do they deserve a novel to be written about?

You give it a thought. You realise your life is moving swiftly, you are even successful at what you doing, you have enough friends, you are happy. Along side, it is getting funnier and frustrating too. You are faced with two choices. One, find a man ASAP. Two, turn into an author.

weheartit.com

BOOK DESCRIPTION

weheartit.com

I am not a scientist, which rules out the scope of revelations and discoveries. I am not the first one to pen a single woman’s tale and certainly won’t be the last, which rules out the novelty factor.

This diary novel is a 366-day account of my life, partly real, partly fiction. I am in the middle of writing it, day by day. When I began penning this diary I was single little did I know then that my relationship status would be different on the last page. Now since it is a 366-day account it will be completed only on the day I get married. I know I’d be married on the last page of the novel what I don’t know is how I’d be feeling that day.

It is not made up of chapters, only excerpts. It has no sections, major and minor. It is made up of 366 single sheets. It is easy to read — even to learn, if you wish. It’s about the ‘etceteras’ in life, which make living worthwhile. Reading this novel would not make you wiser. It will not even soothe the senses of the people who want to see you married. It would not help you get married either.

It will just make you smile and sigh.

dear diary...

will it sell?

When I was to write this section of the proposal I couldn’t help but feel like another rat in the race.

But then after all it is a race and some rat or mouse is going to win it, right? And well I am going to be that mouse. And why exactly do I think I can do that.

1. The ambitions of the inhabitants of this world can be divided into two. One, to open a restaurant.

Two, to write a book. I don’t have the number of aspiring authors vs. the number of aspiring restaurateurs but then in my defense we are not a 100 per cent literate country.

2. We are living in times when anyone who is single and has a computer and a mouse is writing a book. I can just hope that this trend is still hot and around by the time I get to convince you (the publisher) to print this.

3. In continuation to the point listed above, over the last few years the publishing world has been sustaining on the premise that single women are funny. I am not just a single woman, I am a Punjabi too.

4. It’s fun to read about what’s happening in other people’s personal lives. The prime reason we wake up every morning is because Facebook exists

Unfortunately, I am not the kind of social animal who has 3,000 + friends on Facebook or tweets when she smiles or sighs but fortunately I’ve got my skill set in place. I would come in handy while preparing press releases, conducting photo shoots, giving interviews complete with quotes that would make for headlines (I have interviewed many people during the course of my career and hence am capable of generating questions, answers, blurbs, captions, headlines, etc. for my interviews), making myself available for any book reading sessions, et al. I will prove to be helpful in coming up with promotion ideas as well. In short, I would religiously co-operate in getting us noticed.

Also, you could place your trust in my credentials.

I have been working as a journalist for the last six years and am backed by postgraduate degrees in English and Mass Communication. I can write better than MS Word.

dear diary...

thirty

and

i am

single

I was wondering if there was any other way I could introduce myself and I did find a few too. But then, I decided to stick to this one simply because this is what matters in the part of the world I reside in and also for the purpose I am here to introduce myself for. You are a publisher and you know that books penned by single women on their frustrating lives, nagging mothers, disastrous dates, groom hunts and more sell. Right? I aspire to do exactly that. So yes when the idea of penning something similar came to me I was single and yes a year younger. The surprise element of course is that a man came along during this journey. His appearance of course would give me an end to this book and also open up the idea of penning a sequel. For, I am sure life from there on would be as exciting.

I have been in the field of communication for long and have mastered the art of getting away with anything because I have a way with words. I am MS Word with rhythm and emotions.

Name: Purva Grover D.O.B: 15.12.1981 Time & Place: 1810 hours, Chandigarh Height: 5’3’’ Complexion: Fair Educational qualification: She has done her Masters in Mass Communication and Masters in English from Panjab University and is a graduate in Commerce from Delhi University. She did her schooling from Carmel Convent School, New Delhi.

Occupation: Works with a leading publishing house in New Delhi as an Associate Editor.

About her: She has always been academically well accomplished and has had a flair for creative writing, which has found expression in her career in journalism. She has a pleasant personality and blends well in any group. Besides creative writing she has a keen interest in reading and painting.

About our family: Ours is a small and close-knit family with two daughters. I am a chartered accountant and working at a senior position at a prominent insurance firm. My wife is MA M.Ed and works as a teacher. Our elder daughter is married and is an MBA from XIMB working as a freelance retail consultant. Our son-in-law is an engineer from BITS Pilani and a MBA from IIM B, working as a consultant with a business consultancy firm. They have a baby girl.

Source: Dad’s desktop dear diary...

meet the chapters

366 A daily account of 366 days. The additional page has nothing to do with numerology. It is there because 2012 happens to be a leap year.

The chapters are simple diary entries from Day 366 to Day 01. It is made up of prose, poetry. scribbles, et al. It is written in a casual manner and is a record of the drama and frills, work and relationship status & more that defines the life of the person penning the diary.

dear diary...

Day 300

Day 225 Here’s a thing and I am making a note of it mostly by way of assurance. It is fine to seek answers from the Almighty, vegetable vendor, beggar, parking guy, fountain pen or whoever cares to listen to you.

I am stressing on this because no one ever told me that it was fine. Now at 29 you can’t be hearing violins or missing heartbeats. So, how else do you know that you are in love? Ask everyone around... maybe they have a clue. It will not only help you kill time but also keep them guessing. And of course if you are lucky you could get an answer too. But the point here is not really to secure an answer, we all know that. It is well, nothing. Sometimes you don’t need a reason to burden the over occupied mind.

Do you?

So here I am lying on my bed with a broken back and I want an answer to the obvious question.

And let me confess that it is not the first time I am seeking this one. As a ritual, I visit it every night, by default. Is this love? So, I am thinking about the many types of love I have been underexposed and overexposed to. May be if I could identify a love kind I would know if this were love.

Dominating love Exhausting love Suffocating love Giving love Treat-me-like-a-baby love Will make this last love Will this last love Yesterday-today-tomorrow love You are the one love I belong to you love Forget me not love Rainy day love Treasure trove love

Smile till I die love Best friend love Own me love Revengeful love Owe to me love Long walks love Party till dawn love Trouble tie love Till it lasts love Till we meet next love In search of love Share a martini love On my way back love I dress up for you love I undress for you love Sleep next to me love Holding hands love Red rose love Growing by the day love Life’s a holiday love Sharing chores love Fairy tale love Fighting to survive love Could not be mine love A rock on my finger love True to the dictionary love Mills & Boons love Sharing hangovers love Wedding card love Knowing it not love Can’t leave, can’t stay love Till I meet the next love I am spoilt for choice.

All of the above love?

And I found myself staring at those eyes.

I could feel my skin crawl, my eyes twitch and my ears turn red. There are some moments in life that you can’t prepare for.

Like getting a root canal surgery.

The sun was clearly not helping me feel better. I looked at those eyes again, hoping for some magic this time. “Will I hear the magical words?” pounded my heart. Little did I know, that the mother was praying and hoping for the same too. The mother and I were waiting for the signal to turn green, in many ways. When your karmas push you away from the marriage radar, you look for signals in everything. The little girl begging was our God-sent avatar. Till

she knocked on the window, Mom and I were involved in the argument called ‘my marriage’. The girl wanted some money or even the half-finished glass of cola.

She knocked on our car window. She was Saraswati and all we needed was her blessings. “Didi,” she said. “Nahi hai kuch,” I said it with my eyes. “Tujhe achhi naukri milegi,” she pressed. “Hain mere paas,” I retorted. She got angry now. She uttered a few abuses and left.

Mom was disappointed. This was the third time in this week that a beggar had left our car without charting my future. “Till a few months back at least a few of them used to say ‘Dulha milega’, ab dekho,” she said.

The driver nodded in agreement.

dear diary...

Day 180

Day 364 It is really early for me to be up on a Sunday morning or any morning for that matter. It’s eight am, I think. I am on the shit pot not writing but imagining that this is another day I would not forget. I know it is a smelly idea to pen this down but then this is how my waking up moments are spent these days.

So there I was shitting, obviously. Now, I am not one of those who think it is a smart idea to read about the crashing stock market, Baba Ramdev’s antics or Parliament proceedings while I shit. Interestingly, I also know of some women (and men) who sit over the settled mass for hours for they are in the middle of a raunchy romantic novel.

Anyway, this is not about them, so back to me. While usually I sit there and count the shampoo bottles, talcum cans, soap dishes, etc. today I am reciting a mantra.

Last Saturday my mother visited a pundit, who has removed the dosh from the

patris of many single (ageing) girls and he handed over this upaya to her, “Ask her to narrate this three times each morning.”

My mother claims she has been promised results in less than five weeks. Now since my mother obviously shared details of my schedule with the pundit and established the fact that I would not get time to narrate the mantra every morning, he came up with a solution. “Arrey, bathroom mei chipkadejiya, wahan toh har din kuch minute bitaati hi hogi.” .

So I am staring at a mantra strategically pasted on the wall facing the shit pot.

And while no mother would smile at her daughter after she had shat, my mother and I have begun to exchange these mysterious smiles. I guess she looks forward to my trips to the loo. My day has begun. I will get back if I survive.

No one is ever going to tell you that you have to love her and which in this situation simply translates into the fact that they are suggesting that you hate her. The trouble, I don’t hate mine, not yet.

She is hot and rich - my sister-in-law. And it’s a lethal combination, tell the experts.

We write to each other, often.

We also chat and call. We haven’t met each other yet and I am actually looking forward to meeting her.

What if I fall in love with her?

What if I like her? Will my girlfriends ever accept me back in the gang or will I be boycotted? God, I don’t understand women.

dear diary...

I hate these young bubbly girls in office.

Each morning when I walk in they are in one corner or the other, giggling. And then they go ahead and spend the rest of the day discussing some random yuppie boy’s new girlfriend. And when they are not doing that they engage in loud conversations that perpetually begin with “Dude, you know what?”

I walk into pubs and make rhetorical remarks like “This ‘loud music’ is too ‘loud’.”

I can’t help but judge women in the age group of 24-26.

I narrate tales, which begin with “When I was in college…”

On Saturday nights I don’t let the pressure of socialising overtake my life I am comfortable with ordering in and watching a movie.

I think I love rum more than quotes by Rumi that idiots keep posting on Facebook.

I don’t feel getting wasted is the only way to spend a New Year’s Eve. I am pretty good at dealing with the question, “Oh, so are you going to be home on New Year’s Eve?” In short, I am 30 and I don’t want to or can hide it. I mean I know I’m not wine or cheese but then I don’t shy away from telling the world how old I am or will be next year.

I had no business to be shocked or depressed, I dated him three years ago and then I initiated the break-up. Yet, it felt right to be upset. Later that evening when I shared the news with a not so close friend, she questioned, “First?” “Yes,” I said. “It’s always tough the first time around, you’ll be fine the second time,” she assured. The simple point being that even if you don’t want to ever marry the guy it is always nice to know that he exists as an option, just in case. Now, that option too was going.

It’s not hard to guess what I did for the next few days - I was more on his FB page than mine, staring at it waiting for some information. These were clearly depressing times. I had not even begun to deal with girlfriends getting married and here the boyfriends too were getting married. It was like I was in some kind of mental labour, a feeling when you experience a weird pain in your head and no matter how hard you push and pray, the thought that’s troubling you refuses to pop out.

You obviously don’t hate the guy so when he calls you to invite you for his

engagement you congratulate him. Of course, you don’t go for it. “I don’t want to make it hard for you by being there.

Just that I am glad you are moving on,” I told him. Soon, the day of engagement comes and goes. All his friends who were once upon a time your friends too refuse to divulge any details of the events. Suddenly, they all go on a digital fast, no one uploads any pictures.

Day 330

Day 232

Let me tell you that even if you were born and brought up in a library there is one story that you still would never want to hear. The story of how your ex-boyfriend fell in love with the girl he will soon be marrying. “I hear he took her home last evening,” said a friend. My mouth uttered, “I don’t care.” My intestines said, “Throw up now.” My heart screamed, “What the F!” I am so sure that she heard none of the three, for she went on, unperturbed, “So basically his mother has been insisting that he gets married and so he says he just took her home to calm down the mother,” “So, it’s no big deal. I just wanted you to know just in case things move forward from here it should not come as a shock to you.”

A few days later, my friend called me up again, this time she sounded serious, “It’s war time,” she announced. Now, when a girl friend says that, you know you can’t take it lightly. Since it was my first time on the battlefield I gave the charge to her.

“You get everything in place, I will slip into the battle suit,” I told her. Now battle suits for such wars are of a different kind - you get everything in place from push-up bras to lip pencils, plunging neckline blouses to six-inch stilettoes and fake eyelashes to back polishing creams.

The night before the wedding arrives much before you think it will. The spotlight is on you. Some friends joke, “An ex-boyfriend’s wedding is almost like a rehearsal dinner.”

You want to slap them tight.

I couldn’t have felt less glamorous than I did that night. It was like I was either straight out of a brothel seeking attention with my backless blouse or out of a dance bar with red hot lipstick. Trust me, no matter how much you spend at the parlour that evening you will look your worst.

I walked in with my friend to the wedding venue. There he was atop a horse. “You look beautiful,” he smiled at me from up there. “You too!” I smiled back! Really, did I just call my first boyfriend beautiful? ....

Contd... dear diary...

Day 300

Day 257 Wedding webisodes: Heard of wedding albums and DVDs, now cherish wedding webisodes (from episodes). Wedding videography is the blend of outstanding craft skills, soft creativity, appropriate technology and lovely memories. This cinematic wedding story-telling is a work of envy! The webisodes can be 2 to 3 hours long, including pre and post wedding moments.Upload these on video sharing websites. We play some webisodes and interact with the men & women behind it.

Green ways to say “I Do”: We’ve heard about eco-friendly clothes, organic food, eco-tourism and more. How about a green wedding? We help you plan a gorgeous green wedding. Say invites out of recycled paper, décor using flowers & pebbles, a honeymoon to an eco-friendly destination and more.

Black is the new red The fashion gurus update every season on the ‘it’ colour.

Peach is the new pink. Orange is the new blue. Green is the new purple. But what they didn’t tell you is that black is the new red when it comes to the trousseau. From Sabyasachi Mukherjee to Raghavendra Rathore, Shyamal and Bhumika to Honey Waqar, designers are presenting their bridal wear collection in off beat colours.

Black diamond for the bride? Mr. Big brought a black diamond ring for Carrie, for she was unique. When did the Indian bride

become open to the black vs. the white?

Some say the diamond lacks the fire and sheen, yet the bold bride is open to a black engagement ring. We explore.

This is my edit list for the forthcoming issue.

It was just a bad work day, a very bad one.

And of course my brain was dead. I had heard of and suffered from a writer’s block but what I was facing today was a block of a different kind, the wedding block. “What’s the word count for this story? How much do we pay the writer per word?” asked a colleague.

It was my third day of venue hunting and I was already thinking of ‘rate per plate’ and had forgotten the ‘rate per word’. “I think I am going mad,” I announced for the fifth time in an hour. For some strange reason each time I typed in gray on MS word it changed into gravy. Was I reading too much into the menus to choose from?

“It will be all fine,” patted a senior designer.

While an editor laughed, “Why don’t you write a real life piece on a woman sunk deep into her wedding preparations?” Trust me, there is something about editors - all they think of is stories. I was turning into an inspiration board for ideas. In the last issue, we had carried a story – How to handle a long distance relationship.

If this were a love story, I’d want you to meet me on page one If this were a fairy tale, I’d want you to ride a white horse If this were a romance saga, I’d want you to weave dreams If this were to be a fable, I’d want you to seal it with a kiss If this love were to bring hope, I’d want hope to bring love to me too If this love were to last for a while, I’d want that while to last forever If I were to wait for you, I’d want to do that under a starlit sky If I were to look for you, I’d want to find you soon If I were to talk to you, I’d want it to be about our lives If I were to smile at you, I’d want it to reach your eyes

If I were to miss you, I’d want to feel my heart ache for you If the pain were to last for a while, I’d want that pain to lost forever If I were to dream about you, I’d want to be in it too If I were to pray for you, I’d want it to all come true If I were to cry for you, I’d want the tears to speak to you If I were to hold you, I’d want to be real close If this love were to bring hope, I’d want hope to bring love to me too If this love were to last for a while, I’d want that while to last forever

dear diary...

366 SIN NORMA

GLE.

GIGGL

L. INTER RUP

TIONS.

LOVE.

HATE. H UNT. M O OM. M L D .

2 COLOU 5,000 + IL. NEW . SALES R. GIRL MOM. . EXCEL FRIEND LAST C S S , HEET. M 2 AM FR HANCE AUNTIE EN WHO IENDS. . SEARC S. KEEP SUCCE W H. EX-F YOUR E O O S E S. SHIT, D. WHIT ILES. PR Y E S O O E WASH DATE. L PEN. DE EGNAN H S H I T .

AUNCH . PLANS ADLINE FAME. H T FRIEN . WINE. . PMSIN MAGA DS. DEA .R. DEPA Z G C INES. S DLINE. HEESE. RTMENT . STAPL WEEKEN O ER WITH BABY S TICKING . LEAVE LAAH S D BREA HOWER S, CL & PINS. SE OMWA B O K ON A X E S. GREY S. EL. WHY R. EVER N S I T W I V E E EKDAY . WHEN YONE’S HAIR. C MORE C S E R V A . .

NTS. CL HOT AN OLOUR HOW. W INVITED HAMAK ASSIFIE , HAIR D RICH . WEIGH AIT. FAI . WTF. R D , S T S T H .

U I S C G .

N T PRAY. A ONVEN ER-IN-L , NOW. AIN. LO HIGH-R AW. LET T EDUC UNTIES. SS. APP ESOLUT FASTER A HAL. LU . THE D MORE ION PIC RAISAL TED AN O N .

D FAIR. TURES. T COM S CH BRE H A H RATE PE I R RELIEF. PANEER , THE D AK. NO ESIGNA R PLATE BIG REL OT CO . NOW VEL. MA TION. B . FLIRT. M IEF. O A G T R N H E K N A COFFEE NTA. W EVER. P T WILL G ACCOU IS LOVE A , A POT F XING. B UNDIT. NTS, NE ET YOU . THE RI EDIT LIS ULL. DIN REATHE W ONE M A GHT TIM R R TS. IED. GI . SQUEE S, MAN NERS. V E .

F THE RIG Y. DESI ZE. SAR IOLINS. TS. LIST SMOKE G S EES. CH HT MAN SOBER. . HOPE NATION RS. WEE AMAK, S. PICTU DRUNK . D.O.B KLY OF S T A T U . .

S. RELA F. COM RES, CO SLOSHE P E O P GIRL W L T E PENSAT D. LAST IONSHI . PLACE NFEREN HO GO P STATU ORY OF SINGLE S. COV CE CAL T MARR S F B ER. PRO . THE SE . SUITS. LS. E S T I F E R D I E . THE G REVERT CRET. R PS. CUB ND. HU CLOCK I A T RL WHO GS. REC ICLES. P O MAIL TE PER W , TICKIN ORDS. T S. PRES APER C GOT EN G. BEST ORD, S HE GIRL UTS. ME GAGED RELEAS FRIEND WORK ETINGS WHOSE ES. DEA . FRUST S. TOKE FROM H . FIGHT RATED DLINES LAST NA NS. BITC OME. S T .

F A STATUS OR SMO ME LES SEL HES. CO U C M L. THING KS, SOC KE BREA ESSAGE LLEAGU HIGH H S TO DO IAL LIFE S. SMSE KS FOR ES, MA EELS. M LE COL . SHOP S NONB EASURE .

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-YEAR-

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dear diary...

to know more My life revolves around datelines, headlines and deadlines. And I still love it. I work decent hours, sometimes; insane hours, most times. I live with my parents in New Delhi. I am very quick with reverting to e-mails, write to me at grover.purva@gmail.com.

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