By Vibha Batra
“I’m now not under the influence of alcohol – only a litt-le high.”
On a mystical moonlit evening, Jai and Anusha meet and fall in love. once they meet back notwithstanding, they detect that Jai is the crass capitalist constructing Rasa Vihar, the history development that Anusha and her NGO are scuffling with to guard. necessarily they conflict, with neither keen to envisage to the opposite. the matter is that even if publicly they're enemies, in inner most, they're wildly drawn to one another. – but if secrets and techniques and betrayals input the equation – issues relatively start to get out of control.
Will the Activist and the Capitalist ever be capable of locate universal ground?
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Extra info for The Activist and The Capitalist
Mhen one travels, one might "hit" a storm. The shoe must be tied to the ankle. As for we who "love to be astonished," McDonalds is the world's largest purchaser of beef eyeballs. They went out with bows and armbands to shoot at the hay. It's as easy as waves, slopping water. Tiaverse, watch, and cease. He had the hands of an artist. Penelope reworking the twill. " I'11just keep myself from picking up the telephone, in order to get some work done. What memory is not a "gripping" thought. Only fragments are accurate.
A healthy dialectic between poetry and prose. Good days go by fast, too fast. On the low rectangular coffee table was a rack for the postcard collection. A lot of questions, a few answers, the progress of questioning, the spot on the brain where these words will go. For example, I remember the blue coat with the red piping but I don't remember myself in it. There was green dust on the park bench, sanded by bottoms. " Raisins, cheese, the fapanese. I was stocking counter-convention in the localized world of the kitchen steam and rain.
As for we who "love to be astonished," the night is lit. Remarkably to learn to look. My father would say I've a "big day" tomor- a storm row. Words are not always adequate to the occasion, and my "probably" sounded hopeless. It's real, why, so, it's wrong. I mentioned my face because I am made that way wonderfully like a shadow I do not despise. But if I don't like the first dress I try on, I won't like any. It is only a coincidence. Whose shadow who's. At the circus the elephants were more beautiful than the horses, more touching than the clowns, and more graceful than the tigers trained to jump on their backs.