When the first time my heart did love. It felt like heaven on this earth.
I still remember how my eyes used to rebel with my brain and rested on its favorite face.
His curly hairs, the square of his chin, his faint line of beard upon his upper lips and more than all his golden glance used to lure me to be soaked into him.
I still remember The way he held my hands and sent electricity down my spine. I knew it was him, and noone else, on whose shoulder I would glady lay my head and let him claim his rights over me.
I still remember, his soccer ball, and his tee shirt that smelled of sweat and playground mud, when in his embrace I stood like a princess and he were my prince and that was our kingdom of love.
I still remember our dance at ball. Your favourite color, black I wore. You kept your hands upon my waist and mine stayed on your chest. You stared hard into my eyes and I didn’t know where to hide.
I still remember Your new bag, it looked so bad. You argued at it being nice but I had not had to watch it twice.
I still remember your haircut. I liked you with your woolen curls.
And they remained the way I liked. The way I wished them to be right.
I still remember your first shave. I rode to your home to see you without them.
You hid your face in the towel.
And I did laugh till I fell in the bed.
I still remember my sweater in your arms, my clutch in you hands, My eyes into yours, and the love in my heart.
I loved you then and I love you now.
I would break into million pieces and you would feel me, like the falling snow
Because I still remember that I were once in love with you.
I STILL REMEMBER
Asthma spreading roots to Infertility
Asthma is a chronic respiratory disorder when the airways leading to the lungs get inflamed. As the hormones change, Pre-pubertal girls often suffer from severe asthma attacks and this condition aggravates with age . This is apparent during menopause as it is seen that the ratio of women to men suffering from asthma is two to one. Women are exposed to potential sources of asthma-like- biomass fuels (household chulhas and Ovens), smoking( both passive and active), alcohol consumption and other environmental factors. The hormone level fluctuates during menstrual periods.
According to researchers, 27 percent of women suffering from asthma were also likely to face difficulties getting pregnant. There is an increased risk of becoming infertile with a lack of treatment and as treatment gets delayed.
The negative effect of asthma on infertility is reduced by treatment, it is assumed that the systemic inflammation exhibited by the asthmatic patients may be the precipitating factor for delaying fertility, according to Dr. Gade. However overall results suggest that women suffering from asthma had the ability to conceive the same number of children, as they tend to conceive at an earlier age compared to others thus not facing much of a barrier to pregnancy.
According to the World Health Organization, asthma is a respiratory disease characterised by chronic inflammation of air passages leading to and from the lungs. Currently, an approximate of 235 million people are suffering from asthma and it is considered the most common chronic disease in children. Asthma attacks, affect children and adults with bouts of breathlessness and spasms caused by inflammation in the airways and lungs.
Health care professionals are of the opinion that inflammation of the airways caused by asthma has widespread effects in other parts of the body, not only to the parts related to the respiratory circuit. Women who received medication for asthma, usually anti-inflammatory medication, were less likely to become infertile.
This explains that the inflammatory part of asthma may be affecting the fallopian tube and not just the bronchial tubes.
Unknown story From Bengal Partition
Winding round the the grey shawl I sit by the window and look through the glass pane into the cloudless sky. The blue of which still reminds me of those days when I had got something to cling to.. It was better than what it had been since years or even what It is like now. I used to sit by the quiver of the mango leaves, under the golden sunrays that filtered down, through the leaves and inspired me to carve delicacies out of words. having weaved a garland out of verses, I would chant them out to her while she would fling stones at the branches in want of a fruit. Sometimes mangoes and at some she would develop a taste for guavas. She would make a heap of them in the bag out of the round of her frock and would walk towards me. I would share my verses and she would share her stolen fruits. And we would spend our evening hours like this.
Since when I was married to the zamindar’s daughter, I had not had to do anything for a living. I had a big mansion to live in with my in laws. I was allowed to visit my parents once in a month and that too for 4 days. Because my wife wasn’t comfortable with my staying away for long.
She was dark and she thought I could lose my affections in her upon seeing another of a beautiful lady. She was fearful of losing what she never had. My affections. Not because of her insecurities, but because of her inability to watch my wishes over hers own. On the time of marrying her I had taken her as a financial security, and she took me as an educated husband whom she could flaunt in the society. But what seemed perfect then is nothing now. maybe money is not all we want.
And what I wanted I got when Manu was born. My brother-in- law’s daughter, Manu. When her little fingers would encircle my thumb I couldn’t shake her hands off me. I had made a swing out of my wife’s sari on the mango tree in the garden and let her sleep in the cold breeze. And her mother would be happy as she could do all her other works. I would read silently I would write and fleet the afternoon hours carelessly by her side. And since then we had a habit of spending hours together.
She would ask me the meaning of what I wrote, biting unripe mangoes and I would try to make her understand and she would gape at me and listen carefully and when I would be done she would make false stories and make me listen to her. sometimes she would be all ears and at some she would just cut me in the middle pick a word she found funny and laugh at it till she had no breath left within her. She would insist upon playing games with her and I would teach her new ones which she could play. her mother would tear her lungs out calling out for Manu but she would not listen. “You must go Manu! Your mother is calling you” I used to say. “kaku, I wouldn’t leave you here and go” she would say and she wouldn’t leave until her mother comes with a neem stick to beat her up. Seeing her mother, Manu would give her tiny hands in my palms and hide behind me holding me by my knees. And out of fear she would cry at the top of her voice. She was too small, just seven then.
She did nothing and yet she erased all the creases upon my heart. I was very fond of her, and I was her favourite kaku too. She was My little companion.
But who stays happy forever? Blissful days are always numbered. Everything changed when Bengal was devided into east and west. Everyday more people were killed and blood flowed in rivers. Hindus were killed by muslims and hindus avenged murders on muslims. There was no law noo order. And hindus were forced into west bengal or were killed. Thousands of refugees ran India each day to save there lives, leaving back there homes, properties, a living everything. And we had no option left but to Leave everything behind and fly to India. Our house and property fell in east bengal. And our rights in them was lost in us being hindus. Stones were hurled at our windows and neither of us were allowed to leave the mansion. Things turned worse when our property was seized and my brother in law was beaten up fiercely when he spoke up for himself. We decided upon leaving Bangladesh. We took everything that was possible with us. A earthen pot of water, my old pocket watch, our family portrait, a little money we had and a few clothes. I held Manu’s hand tightly and kept a tin trunk over my head. I held the tin trunk with another hand and hers with another. All of us fought our way through dead bodies, through veiled people who had swords in their hands and were tearing flesh as if they wanted to bath in blood. I watched people trying to escape and get them killed. I fumbled my way. And when I looked back I couldn’t see anybody of my family behind. Neither my wife. All I had was Manu crying after me. I dropped the trunk down on the ground and lifted her up. I began to advance towards the border patting her cheeks dry. “Rataan!” I heard my wife’s cry. I turned around and watched her. A veiled man held her by her hairs and lifted his sword and forced it through her navel. She shreiked soo loud and then taking the sword out he threw her on the ground. I saw her die in front of my eyes and she never let her gaze lose upon me. I wanted to run to her but the crowd pushed me further towards the border. The ones who still had their lives and were desperate to save them. I had to save a life too. I looked at Manu and began to walk ahead. Beyond that line I knew all would be fine. And just as I was about to cross. She began to losen my embrace. “My mother!” She said and began to cry. I did not leave her. And tried telling her that her mother would be on the other side. But she kept crying. I watch for the other family members. But I saw nobody around. My pants were wet due to the river water. And it was clinging to my legs with weights making it more difficult for me to walk. I was puushed soo badly that I fell down, in the river water. And Manu slipped off my arms. I searched for her in the water but she was nowhere around. I went back for her but It was useless, Because everytime I tried I was pushed further towards the borders. I could not leave her there alone. She was my responsibility. I ran back pushing through people and then I saw her. Lying by the river being kicked by people. Her head had a wound and she was bleeding. I had to walk against a wave of people To reach to her. I took a step towards her and the next pushed me farther. I watched her being lifted by a man I watched him make a long cut in her stomach with his sharp knife. She shouted out of pain. I tried to run towards her. I was shouting but nothing could reach him. Everyone was crying. Everyone was shouting. And my pain was lost in theirs. He made another big cut through which blood spilled out of her mouth. And then he made another small cut and dropped her in the river. I watched her blood color the waters red. And then he held another refugee. I had nothing to save now. she was killed in front of my eyes and I couldn’t do anything. I left my body free and after that i don’t know what happened.
But I woke up in a hospital in kolkata, in west bengal. And All that was found from my pocket was a small unripe mango.
May flowers
Sweet April showers do spring May flowers.
The road to Araku Valley was difficult. Araku Valley is a Hill station in Visakhapatnam district in the state of Andhra Pradesh in India. We were in the car, window seats taken and vomiting all the way up the windy road. The children of the locality sold black pepper seeds all the way. The car halted on the side of the hilly roads and I got down to freshen myself. It was a beautiful morning which I had marred with the uneventful mess. My husband, Manish held a bottle in one hand and his DSLR in the other with a frown on his face. Photography was already over for the day. Thanks to me. sigh!. We had been bickering all day.
Next morning, we decided to go out for local sightseeing. We heard about the garden of flowers, a major tourist attraction. Padmapuram, as they called it, is one of the most beautiful places on earth. This is a garden which is very well designed with many interesting nooks and corners . Manish was moving very fast, trying to capture the exquisite flowers while I was at his heels, trying to catch up with his speed. I suddenly fell down. It was a very bad fall and tears welled up in my eyes. Manish didn’t even look back. I felt extremely upset. I cursed myself for taking the day off from work. I started crying.
I felt a hand on my right shoulder. I thought it was Manish. But it wasn’t him. It was a man, wearing an apron and carrying a spade in his fist. He lent out his hand and I caught his. His hands were warm. Mine were cold. I looked up at him.
A drop of water drizzled from his forehead to my lips. It was raining.
His eyes were brown and they sparkled. His broad smile forced a stray smile across my lips. Are you a gardener here?, I asked. He simply shrugged. He pulled me under the shade. I wanted to feel the rain. The rain would help me hide my tears. The rain would wash my sorrows away. The rain would cool my heated mind. The rain would accept me for who I am.
It always rains the hardest on the people who deserve the sun. I thought to myself, I don’t need Manish to keep me happy. I need someone who would make me happy. Manish doesn’t care about me anymore. I went on chirping. I looked at my companion. He was clearly interested in me whereas Manish had completely forgotten about me, it seems. We strolled across the garden, some of the most beautiful and exotic flowers at Padmapuram garden caught our attention. What do you call this flower?, I asked him. He pointed to a billboard saying ‘PINK GERBERA’. I looked at him with skeptical eyes, and asked, Can I ask you something? Can you speak?. He clearly couldn’t. I realized that while I was ramping about my problems to him, only he did was a nod and reciprocate in gestures. I had been ignorant of my companion and my problems seemed massive with respect to his. Maybe this was the problem in our relationship, we became so engrossed with ourselves, we forgot to check what was wrong with the other. I should go, find Manish, I told him. I love him. He nodded.
Manish was sitting on a rock, looking over his camera. He pursed his lips together. I was feeling guilty. I am sorry, I said. He looked at me, You must be sorry, sorry for looking so beautiful! And we burst out laughing. The garden of flowers seemed to look brighter and more colorful than ever. Manish was wearing a black shirt and he looked handsome and fresh, fresh from the showers. Why haven’t I noticed this earlier?.
I was so wrapt up in my issues that I forgot to look at him. The man in the valley taught me a lesson for life. His silence spoke to me when words failed to make me realize how much I needed a little rain in my life. The April brings the winds of change and washes away the heat of the summers to bring about full bloom in MAY flowers.
Some people feel the rain, while others only get wet
The Barbie and the Beast
Greya had many dolls. Her favourite doll was a barbie, called Anna.
Anna smelled of strawberries and she was perfect. Waves of golden hair flowed down her back.
She could be Rapunzel, as far as she was concerned, she did live in a house, kept hidden from the rest of the world.
Greya did not let anybody else touch her, lest she would lose her strawberry smell. Lest she would no more be special as I thought her to be.
She was a doe-eyed beauty and she never needed any makeup, unlike the other Barbies. She was special and she knew it.
However, she did not laugh.
With beauty comes great responsibilities. Maybe she took this responsibility too seriously.
Anna was kept boxed up, shielding her from dirt and dust and spider cobwebs. Greya took great care of her sparkle gowns and shoes.
Greya always took the time to give her a wash, keeping her clean and beautiful, brushing her silky locks.
Greya was a shy kid and she was very possessive about her dolls, especially Anna. Anna was the last gift that she got from her mother. Her mother had left her in the custody of her father and she greatly missed her mother. There was nothing in the world that could replace her mother’s role in her life and the barbie was a symbolic representation of her mother.
Her mother was perfect. She was blond and beautiful and she smelled of strawberries.
Anna was lonely, and she needed a friend. Greya had isolated her from the rest and she desperately needed an outlet.
So, one day when Greya was busy washing her clothes, she slid under the bathtub, hoping to escape. But hell broke loose at Greya’s place.
Greya upset the cupboards, tore away her hair, burned the mattresses but Anna was not found.
Days went by, months crossed. It was Fall. Greya moved to another part of the town and the house was rented to another family.
The new family had no girls, Anna was relieved. She could finally come out of her hiding and breathe.
She stretched her arms out and to her surprise something sharp caught her hands and dragged her out. It was a dog. A small little pug that was the heart of the new family, in the house.
The dog carried Anna in its jaws and threw the salivated barbie onto the red carpet. The family gasped a sign of disgust and the boy showed no interest in the ‘once beautiful’ Anna. Anna was covered in dirt and grime and her beautiful silky hair was messed up. Anna was no more special.
She was good enough to be the dog’s toy. The pug mouthed the barbie in its jaws again and carried it into the garden. It dug a small hole in the soil and buried Anna into the pit as the family watched on with adoring eyes for their dog.
THE UNTOLD FEELINGS – THAT NEVER DIED
Their eyes first met in the class
He was sitting before her she remembers
She rapidly fell for him when he took a glance
She never knew when he took away the heart of her
Slowly they became friends
Feeding each other during breaks
After that they had a gang
Those four people could do what other people cant
This time she got to know her best friend loves him
So she started feeling guilty and tried to stop the feeling
He became some hero and was famous
Some people were fond of him and some jealous
She was always there standing at the back to help him
It used to hurt her a lot as she remained the same but he was changing
He got other friends and left her
The untold words were never again told
Every time she tried to touch him he would get away far
But the feeling in her stayed and became old
One day he got his love and introduced her
She instantly put on a fake smile and told “you guys are made for each other”
He gave that happy smile to her once again
From that time she knew that was the end
The feeling stayed for days and years
Whenever she saw them happy she would break down into tears
She always waited and waited
Because for her love doesn’t means revenge
And he became happy with his love forever
But she was never able to forget him as she had a heart which was pure and clear
SANSKRITI 2k16
Sanskriti 2K16, presented by the Arts Faculty Student’s union, the annual function of Jadavpur University started on 26th April. City of Joy eagerly waits for this single event every year. More than 15 colleges in the city participated in on-stage and off-stage events. Back to back performances were tied for the days of Sanskriti along with star performance by Arko Mukherjee and his band fiddlers green and Satyaki Banerjee.
The events included vocals, quiz, debate, football, fashion show, photo exhibition, treasure hunt, dance, face painting poster painting, Antakshari etc. On day1 the rocking performances in the evening was made more lively by the wonderful decoration of the OAT and performances of the star interacting with the audience. On 27th in Gandhi Bhawan, Kaushik Ganguly came to promote his film ‘Cinemawala’. She was also accompanied by Poran Bondhopaddhyay, Parambrata and Sonini Sarkar. Their vibrant interactive session with the student was a sparkling one. The evening was followed by the performance of Humsufi. The vibrant applause of the students was witnessed when he sang ‘Allah k Bande’, ‘kwaja mere kwaja’, ‘Naina me teri kaise jadu kiya re’.
The third day of Sanskriti was the most awaited one. The performances by the band ‘ Gan Abohoman’ is the anticipating item of the day. This band is a cocktail of Upal of Chandrabindu, Gabu of Lakkhichara, Prashmita, Satadol and many other prominent musician.
In the scorching heat of the Sanskriti days the audience and the students were also provided with food stalls, the most eminent of these stalls being the tea carnival, ‘Chai ho jai’, where students were given ice tea.
Jadavpur union authorities had also arranged a security team to prevent any type of harassment or disturbance in the arena of the feast. It is also for the safety for the people coming from other colleges and states. Every year the three days of Sanskriti promises loads of excitement, fun and rejoice. Anyone can be the part of this enjoyment and it makes the programme an unique one.
In this way the three days of Sanskriti comes to an end.
Sanskriti is the so-called Durga Puja of Jadavpurians and the end of this event fill their heart with remorse.
Queer Fashion AKA Androgynous Fashion
Most of us are aware of the fact that there are only two types of fashion. Namely, Men’s and Women’s. We are totally oblivious that there exists ‘Queer’ Fashion or in other words ‘Androgynous’ Fashion.
Androgyny is when, there is a combination of masculine and feminine characteristics which can also be referred to as ‘Gender Ambiguity’. ‘Andro’ meaning Male and ‘Gynous’ meaning Female = Androgynous. Androgyny dates back to the ancient and medieval times. The term originally derived from Ancient Greek. But it was first used as an adjective during the early 17th century. Later, it came into use as a noun during the 1850s. (Androgyny and Transexuality should not be confused because they are completely two different things.)
Androgynous fashion does not limit you to wearing certain type of gender oriented clothes. You are free to experiment. There is no notion as ‘Menswear’ or ‘Womenswear’. There is no written rule that ‘Men’ should solely wear ‘Menswear’ and ‘Women’ should wear clothes which are tagged as ‘Female’ only.
Androgynous fashion not only allows you to play with the genders but also allows you the chance to mix match them to create your own style.
As we know every field of fashion have models so does this. Some of the few famous Androgynous models are :
Erika Linder
She is 25 years old. She was born and brought up in Sweden as well as discovered there. Later she moved to Los Angeles. She’s done several photoshoots with both a female and male attire but her most famous being the one where she resembles Leonardo DiCaprio. She came out as a Lesbian when she was 14. (If you are Homophobic then it is not my fault if this article offends you). She even starred in the Official Lyric Video of Katy Perry’s ‘Unconditonally’ alongside Janell Shirtcliff.
Jeffree Star
He is from Orange County, California and of American descendant. He is a make-up artist, fashion designer and also a singer-songwriter other than a model. He is currently aged 30. He had worked alongside Breathe Carolina, Blood on the Dance Floor, Nicki Minaj, Deuce, Millionaires, Detox and Kesha. He had released several singles along with his debut album ‘Beauty Killer’. He launched his own cosmetics brand in 2014 called ‘Jeffree Star Cosmetics’.
Ruby Rose
She is an Australian model, actress, television presenter, recording artist, DJ and a former MTV VJ. She was the face of Maybelline New York in Australia. Her acting career began in 2008 with her debut performance in ‘Suite for Fleur’. Last year she gained international popularity though her appearance in the third season of the Netflix series ‘Orange Is The New Black’. She is currently 30 years old and came out as a Lesbian at age 12. Her first single ‘Guilty Pleasure’ with Gary Go was released in 2012. She released a short film called ‘Break Free’. (Which you should check out right now.) She also hosted the 2015 EMAs with Ed Sheeran.
(Are you not familiar with Ruby Rose ? Do you live under a rock ? Check out her twitter she had pictures with Deepika Padukone for the upcoming movie ‘xXx’ !)
Pat Dudek
There is not much information on the internet for Pat Dudek. If you could find any please let me know.
He is a model and visual artist. He is represented by the Warsaw-based agency Wave Models. He is famous for his graceful frame and his shoulder length blonde hair.
If you want to check out more Androgynous models, I suggest you check out Buzzfeed.
The Sand And The Sun
Have you ever been to Bikaner?
Set amidst the deserts of Royal Rajasthan, yet not so royal is the land of Bikaner. Stretches of the clear blue sky, fields gushing by, mountains overlooking the rugged countryside and very few people on the roads, it is not a very famous tourist spot. However, it cannot be missed!
The rustic beauty of the place is enthralling. Rajasthan has undergone a lot of changes. It’s not the harsh desert that welcomes you anymore, it is a green landscape interspersed with bushes and thorny trees and sand. Bikaner is a colourful place like any other place in Rajasthan and yet so adeptly different. This is where I first met him. I met him at the juxtaposition of the sand and the sun along the thin boundaries of India and Pakistan. It was a small village called Raiser. The village still lies there, only that the sand has been carried away by the wind to some other dune. My story has been probably carried away by the winds too and dispersed into the clear blue sky. 
It was a beautiful afternoon. The dry winds carried the harshness as well as the cool just like a mother’s scolding. I was sitting under the babool tree reading and rereading the letters that we wrote to each other. His handwriting was coarse and cursive, like an Urdu dialect and his voice was like a song. I would read the letters every time and fall asleep as in a trance. He was a poet of the deserts. A Messiah of my heart. A time traveller. I would stare at the Surma of his eyes as he told me stories of many great men of the war and I would travel with him to the wars of his stories. The battlefield, the bloodshed, the mothers who had cried for their sons. His great-grandfather had been one of the shaheeds and he remembered about him with reverence. We used to go out on camel rides, talk to the tourists, share our stories and watch the albela dances before the campfires under the moon.
I climbed up the sand dune and looked in the direction of the village. Raiser was clear as a picture. The cold desert wind was blowing. The babool tree was still there and he was there again. His dark dreamy eyes looked into mine, and I travelled again to the starry night under the trees, in the desert sands, in the strong winds that made us sneeze, in his warm embrace in the cold nights, on his lap listening to his tales. He looked at me and tears rolled down his eyes. ” You must be missing me so much, looking at me from up there”, said he and he cried vehemently. I did not cry anymore, not after that day when I was struck down with high fever and the local medicine man held my father’s hands and said, “she is gone”.
It was a beautiful afternoon. It was almost dusk. Our shadows fell on the sand and a couple took a picture with us. The tourists said that we are going to make a great couple. I always knew that we will. As the sands of time fly by, wiping off our names from the sands, the memories of the sand and sun keep haunting us. I look into his Surma filled black eyes and read the letters every time and fall asleep as in a trance. He was a poet of the deserts. A Messiah of my heart. A time traveller.
Sarod Sundori, 2015
The former winner of the crown of Sarod Sundori, 2015 Steffi Roy is here with us to share her struggle, passion and off course the secret of her confidence, talent and beauty.
Taking her interview was a great experience for me. Let’s see, what is the secret that made her win the crown defeating 200 contestants.
Here’s the conversation between me and Madhura Steffi Roy after she had won the crown.
Me: Congratulations for your outstanding performance in Sarod Sundori.
Steffi: Thank you.
Me: How do you feel after coming back and meeting friends and relatives?
Steffi: They have always been a support to me. Now, when I meet them their face tells me that they are really proud of me and that inspires me more.
Me: When and how did you start your journey in fashion world?
Steffi: I stepped in fashion world when I was a kid of 7 years. That time I got a chance to do a advertisement of video shoot of Telekids. But that time I didn’t know I will go this far in this line.
Me: Winning this crown was an opportunity for you or is it your dream and desire of your childhood?
Steffi: It was a desire. In 2010 when I got the chance for a photo shoot of a great platform like Lakme a strong desire came in me to move ahead in this field.
Me: Out of 200 contestants, you got selected in top 20 and then in top 10 and finally you won the crown. Can you tell us about the grooming session?
Steffi: The day when the top 20’s got selected, that day morning we were called there and people out there were telling us many inspiring things to boost us up. That was a part of our grooming and that off course helped me a lot.
Me: You have covered up the talent round very well by singing a song. Where did you train yourself in that?
Steffi: I learnt singing when I was a kid. When I was in class 1 I started learning Rabindra Sangit and I continued it till class 5. After that I left learning.
Me: You have also been in Max Nobonita, but you didn’t win the crown. What do you want to blame luck, labour or chance?
Steffi: I won’t blame my hard work. In that case I would like to blame my luck because, there the winner was extraordinarily tall around 6 ft. And we all know tall girls get the place here. So, if I have to blame anything, I would blame my luck.
Me:Congratulations for your outstanding success Steffi.
So what’s next?
Steffi: (smiles) Next is my second year examination. I need to score good marks as in long run marks are the only things that will support me.
Me: Do you think people should come forward and participate in such contest?
Steffi: Yes, because beauty pageant is good platform to show what talent you have. It makes you realise how good your personality is and off course it enhances your personality.
Me: There are many beautiful and talented girls in villages who doesn’t know about this platform. What according to you can be done for them?
Steffi: I think, in every district there should be a competition held in order to find out talents. As this platform is not only for the beauties, there should also be a competition held for the physically challenged people.
Me: You have won a car in this young age. What is your feeling? How does your family feel?
Steffi: I love to be independent and I think after I won the car I completed one step of being independent and this inspires me that I can move more forward.
Me: What message do you want to share with the readers?
Steffi: Getting inspired and getting carried away are two different things. Do not follow the crowd but follow your dreams. If you are hard working you are sure to achieve what you desire for.
Me: Indeed, it was a great time to take interview of your’s. We hope to see you elevating in you career. Thank you very much for the time which you have given us.
Steffi: I would like to say Thank you to guys for finding me worth it.
