If you don’t like movies with somewhat unbelievable premises justified by a dashing leading man, hilarious supporting characters, and tear-jerking moments that will make you cry , than stay away from P.S. I Love You. For all of you saps out there, prepare for a film that’s so surprisingly endearing, you’ll start wondering why you can’t have a husband who will love you enough to die young and then send you letters posthumously.

Based on the best-selling novel by Cecilia Ahern, P.S. I Love You is an uplifting ballad about love and loss. The film opens with Holly Kennedy (Hilary Swank) and her goofy Irish husband Gerry (Gerard Butler) fighting over a

seemingly innocuous comment Gerry made to Holly’s mother. Just when the couple realizes how much they need one another, the film cuts ahead several months to Gerry’s funeral, where Holly is absolutely devastated. Fortunately, during his battle with a brain tumor, Gerry composed a series of letters to be delivered to Holly after his death, each encouraging her to live her life, each ending with the phrase “P.S. I Love You.” As the letters pile up, Holly struggles with memories of her past as her two best friends Denise (Lisa Kudrow) and Sharon (Gina Gershon), and the shamelessly blunt bartender Daniel (Harry Connick Jr.), all struggle to get her to start anew.
P.S. I Love You is one of those painful films that makes you cry right off the bat, then lifts you up with some choice comedy (courtesy of Lisa Kudrow) only to slap you in the face with a heart-breaking flashback. But despite the extremely depressing subject matter, the film still emanates an aura of hope, which keeps it from sinking into Lifetime: Movie of the Week territory. Ultimately, the film serves to prove that annoying adage you hear after every break-up, “‘Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”

P.S. I Love You – Trailer

What’s most impressive about P.S. I Love You is that the actors managed to feel like real people, despite the script’s gimmicky premise. Borrowing some delivery tactics from her days as Phoebe Buffet, Lisa Kudrow will have single women everywhere exploding in laughter as she searches for a man who is single, straight, employed and knows how to kiss. Meanwhile, Gina Gershon shines as the more grounded best friend and Kathy Bates gives her standard powerful performance as Holly’s frosty mother. The true standout of the film though is Gerard Butler, which is pretty impressive considering he dies within the first ten minutes. Not only is he a gorgeous man with an accent who sings (try to compete with that boys), but he also has this amazing chemistry on screen that makes you crave him more and more after every scene.

Even though the depressing plotline is right up her alley, Hilary Swank makes a real departure from her typical Oscar winners here, drawing from her 90210 days as the waitress who won Steve’s heart and then lost it to bad ratings. Swank does best in scenes where she’s responding to her cast mates, but has trouble embracing the leading romantic female role. Meanwhile, Harry Connick Jr. does well enough with his brutal honesty but somehow doesn’t manage to make Daniel seem endearing enough to forgive his quirks. The biggest casting misstep is with singer Nellie McKay as Holly’s younger sister Ciara. Though it’s only a bit part, McKay is just too offbeat for the generally down-to-earth tone of the film and is painful to watch.
P.S. I Love You isn’t going to break the chick-flick barrier but it packs a powerful two hours into a concept that on face value seems pretty cliché and corny. P.S. don’t forget to check out the phenomenal soundtrack featuring the heart-wrenching song “Love you till the end” that will keep you in your state of blissful depression for days after seeing the film.

[audio:love you till the end.mp3]

I absolutely LOVED this movie. I went to see it alone and honestly I thought it was amazing. It made me realize that life is short…when you are so in love that you can’t imagine your life without the other person…. you must live each day to it’s fullest. Leave the petty stuff alone and enjoy every moment you have with the one God has blessed you with. I laughed, I cried, I felt like falling in love all over again…corny, but true .. but I don’t think that you should feel bad for leaving an honest review…everyone sees things differently.

It was quarter to one at night when I hit the door bell. My wife opened the door. She had been awake as usual. Waiting for me had become a daily routine for her. Unlike I expected, the house looked normal. I put my laptop on the recliner and went straight into my bedroom, freshened up and got busy with the book – "An autobiography of a yogi."

My wife came in with a piece of cake in her hand. "We waited for you till 9. But it was getting late and your parents pushed to carry on and finish", she said handing over that cake to me. Something stung me deeply for it was my daughter"s first birthday. I had almost forgotten that I had a daughter and a feeling of guilt told me that I did not deserve that piece of cake; it felt heavy when the first bite went down my throat.

"Karthik," she used to call me by name, "look at me", she said. I turned my gaze away from the book onto her face. I saw tears in her eyes. "Have I, in the last two years, ever asked you why you come home late every day? Have I ever asked you to take me out with you, even to the temple that you go alone every weekend? Have I ever told
you how it feels to attend family functions without you?" I turned back to the book. "Karthik, please look at me, will you? I need an answer today."

I always knew that I would have to face this sometime. "No, you wouldn"t understand even if I tell", I replied. "Really? What is it? Please tell me. I know that you agreed to our marriage only because you did not want to disappoint your parents. I know that I"m your wife only for the sake of it. But why should Gaargi suffer because of all this? Doesn"t she deserve to be called your daughter? What is her fault?" my wife asked with tears running down. She had never cried in front of me. I looked at my one year old daughter; Gaargi was special to me, for her name reminded me of a very special person in my life.

"Srishti, I am really very sorry. I don"t know how to tell all this and I"m not sure how you"ll take it. You are not my first love. I had never liked any girl in my life until I met a very nice person who, I decided, would not only be my first love but also the only love in my entire life", my eyes started to fill up, "I can never imagine my life without…" "Your mother told me. I know everything but I wanted you to tell", she interrupted. I wasn"t surprised; two years is a very long time for a secret to be kept in a family. It looked like
she wanted me to somehow raise this and then she started.

"Karthik, have I ever made you feel that I had been betrayed by someone who I thought would be the only person in my life?" Her question confused me for a moment, "Is she talking about me?" I asked myself. "He, not you, was the first man in my life and I too had dreamt that he will be the only one ever. But our relationship collapsed after 5 months of our engagement when I came to know that he was already married. My parents were more than broken when they found this out, for they were the ones who had found this person through some marriage bureau. I went into depression and had attempted suicide twice, but somehow survived. See, even God does not want me. So I decided to live on as life takes me, although I knew that I will not be able to forget
any bit of it."

It took some time for all this to sink in. I was perplexed.

"Karthik, I know that you too had given all the love of your life to her. I also know that she never reciprocated your love and that she was never ready to accept you as her man even though you were ready to sacrifice yourself for her. But don"t you think it should always flow both ways? Don"t you think that it is not worth crying over someone who cannot feel your love? Is it fair on your part to ignore someone who is craving for your love and actually deserves it? Look into my eyes. Don"t you see anything which suggests that I deserve to be loved by you? I know Karthik, I know that there"s some space in your heart that has been made for me. I can see it in your eyes too. When I look into them I do not feel sad that there"s a lot of pain in it. Instead I see that part of it which tells me that I"m not completely unwanted. So I ask you the same thing that you had asked her, "Please give me a chance". Don"t tell me that you cannot love me even a little. I know you do and Gaargi is the proof."

I could not speak more. Srishti too could not. She rested her head on my shoulder. For the first time I kissed on her forehead.

I guess that is what one has to learn. First love is very special. It is something to be remembered for a lifetime but not something for which an entire life can be wasted in grieving over it.

I opened Akshay’s diary and I leafed through the pages.

The initial pages…

‘This is the third year Akshay. For three years, we have been in love’ Megha said, and continued, ‘I couldn’t have asked for more. You have been a great source of inspiration and help for me. You have been my best friend and you are the reason for shaping my career, my life and my happiness as well….’

The engineering final semester results are out and Megha as well as I passed out with flying colors. Megha always had problems with her studies since the time she’s joined engineering stream.

I was always with her in all walks of life. Life after college. Be it ragging or be it studies or be it extracurricular activities or be it life…

And finally a day after our first year examinations Megha proposed to me, and I accepted her whole heartedly. In fact I always said ‘I dint propose her, neither did she propose me… Love just happened between us’

A few pages later on…

She lay her head on my shoulder and gripped my arm firmly. ‘Please don’t go, please, I will do whatever you want me to, don’t leave me and go’ she said, even as her tears wet my shirt. I put my hand over her shoulder pinching her cheeks and said, ‘I love you’. There was a slight smile on her face and she burst crying once again. We alighted down the taxi and walked towards the platform.

The train was already standing on the platform and I docked my luggage underneath the seat and got down from the train. ‘Where is she’ I thought when she ran to me and hugged me from behind. I slowly turned back and hugged her close to my heart with my chin reaching her head and I kissed her ‘smooch’ on her forehead. There were tears in her eyes as I was about to leave in another few minutes. I held her shoulders and bent down a little and said, ‘Don’t cry, look into my eyes’, I said even when she I wiped the tears off her brows and she came close to me again and hugged me.

‘I am gonna miss you’ she said and I replied, ‘so am I’ when a loud blare interrupted our conversation. ‘I think it’s time for me to leave. Take care of yourself. I will talk to you over the phone. I will come now and then to see you’ I said and I pulled her close to me once again and I kissed her on her forehead. And….

Even as I flipped more pages…

‘Megha’, I Called her over the phone ‘I secured a good score in GMAT…’ I told her, ‘perhaps I may get a call from Harvard in a month or two, I have already applied.’

‘Congrats Akshay’ Megha said.

‘I love you, Megha…’ I told her and she replied by kissing over the phone which would remind me of her wet lip marks on my cheek when she kissed me for real.

I called her after few days again. ‘Megha, I need some work experience man. Perhaps a year or two. So I was asked to re-apply after that. Since the score is valid for five years….’ I told her.

I flipped few more pages…

I have reached Megha’s home to talk to her parents about our marriage. Her mom hated me from the beginning. She looked at me as if I was a pest in her house. I wanted to talk to their parents initially before I bring my parents for further talks. Any kinda ego clashes and mine and Megha’s future‘s gone.

Even though her dad was kinda ok with my job and my future plans, her mom wasn’t ready to offer her daughter’s hand in marriage.

Caste issues, love and society, birth stars and astrology… what not … all this shit hindered our marriage. And her mom simply said, ‘Get out’.

I never took it to heart. I will also become a dad in the future and if my daughter says that she loves some one, I will also certainly not be happy with her decision. But at least I would give it a thought. And with the same hope, I never stopped trying. I was always behind her. I begged her. I requested her. I tried to convince her. No avail.

One day, I finally received a call from Megha. ‘Akshay’, she was in tears. ‘My mom strictly cautioned me that she would end her life, if I still think about our marriage… you temme what I should do…’

I had no words. There’s no point in building a love palace over the dead bodies of our parents.

And that was the last time I spoke to Megha…..

Flipping few more pages…

For more than a year, I wasn’t able to forget her. I raved like a lunatic on the roads. At times felt like killing myself. I have seen Megha donating alms to a beggar. ‘Poor guy’ she used to tell. ‘What about me…’ I cried out loud falling onto my knees even as it rained along the beach and my tears drained along with the dripping droplets.

The sun would rise from deep within the sea only to remind me of the actual horror I am facing from deep within my heart. ‘Why did you introduce me to her, God?’ I shouted at him, ‘When you knew that we wouldn’t get married…’

A few months later, I came to know that Megha was married to a well to do guy from Harvard’s. And my heart broke like a piece of delicate glass when dropped onto a floor.

It took me one full year to recover. Five years of love has fetched me nothing but pain. Pain which I will never be able to forget throughout my life. Pain which will never make Akshay the same again. Pain which took my life away from me. Pain which I never wish would happen to some one else. Pain Pain Pain… There’s nothing left in my life…

Two total years I have suffered. Two years I have done nothing in my life. Two years I was jobless and spent them in pain and suffering. And I missed the opportunity to study at Harvard’s. My career’s spoiled too.

As I write this part of the diary, my heart is weeping even after 10 years she’s married. Out of my parents pressure I too married another girl. After all life has to go on. I was living just because my body was alive, but my soul was already dead long back. I had a daughter and I named her Megha in the fond memory of my dead love and my beloved Megha.

How was a child born to me and my wife? Yes I had no interest in the intercourse and the kid was a result of the subconscious male instincts, not love. I had no interest in the woman who married me. Even if I touch her or see her, I could only see Megha in her. Instead of me cheating her and cheating myself, it’s better that I remain far away from her. I was never happy with her. My heart burdened with the feeling that I have wasted the life of a beautiful and a considerate woman. And the kid, I was always reminded of the fact that my ex-lover Megha wanted me to name the kid with my name if it’s a male and I wished to have her named Megha, if it’s a female. I am worried about her future too. I will never ever be a good husband or a good dad, and thanks to you Megha for gifting me this in return for all the love, I have lighted the wick of my heart which ultimately burnt my heart and melted it.

Why have you done this to me Megha? Life hurts. I haven’t dreamt of this kind of life. Ten years I have wasted raving and craving about you. You came, you loved and then you broke and left. But it will take a life time for me to repair that broken heart…….

The diary ended…

There were tears in my eyes as I finished reading the diary. I was at a marriage when I met Akshay again after 10 long years. He came to me and when I asked about his well being, he handed over a diary after opening his bag.

‘Megha’ a voice called me out. ‘Let’s go to the beach and enjoy…’ he said. That’s Nikhil, my husband.

Life is totally different now Akshay after the sharp turn which it took separating us forever. You might have suffered for 2 years or 10 years. I was suffering and will be suffering for the rest of my life; in fact lives to come by. Nikhil is a nice man. I have spoiled his life too. He had always been a very good friend and a good husband. But I have never been a good wife. And my son, I love him, cos he’s Akshay.

And what all pain and suffering you have undergone, I underwent umpteen times the same.

Lost in thoughts, I began to draw, with my finger the symbol of love and wrote ‘Akshay & Megha’ and was looking at those words in deep thought when I felt a hand fell over my shoulder. It was my son Akshay. ‘Just like you Akshay, I have named my kid after you’ I thought when a huge wave made its way towards us, even as I pulled my son away from it.

The wave erased the symbol of love and the words written inside it, on these sands of separation….

My name is Amisha, Amisha Bhatnagar. I am 31 years old born and brought up in Mumbai. I have done my PhD. in psychology but currently, I am a housewife. I love painting, music, cooking etc and etc. No. this isn’t an excerpt from my curriculum vitae but an excerpt from my life. An incident that changed my life forever.

I was married to Rohan Bhatnagar for almost seven years. We have a kid who’s three year old. And I am a happy to do house wife, with god’s grace, as I have a loving husband and the apple of my eyes, my small kid.

Born and brought up in Mumbai, I had to travel all this way from the west coast of Arabian to this beach stretch on the Bay of Bengal as my husband is based in Chennai.

Except for the scorching heat of Mr. Helios in the summer, I very much like this place. Classes and masses apart, Chennai reflects a unique blend of cultures and traditions just like Mumbai.

We stay in an apartment near the Besant Nagar beach. And we have made it a habit to take a stroll along the beach every morning. As usual we were sauntering with the wet sand touching our senses, Chinnu (that’s how I address my kid as) came running to me shouting under that childish delight when you find something odd or strange.

“Momma, look what I have found,” he was spoke with the kiddy accent, stressing the ‘m’ from Momma and ‘k’ from look. I embosomed him with my arms and took the odd thing in my hands. It was a bottle, a corked bottle with a letter inside it.

I hail from a very orthodox family. My mom and dad were liberal, in the sense that they allowed me to study till this point, considering the orthodoxy of my ancestors.

“Boys flirt a lot. I am not saying all boys are bad, but most of them are. Even if you are confronted by Mr. Right, he may be of a different caste and you will bring disgrace to your family, your very own dad and mom who loved you so much and brought you up,” my mom was always skeptical about me having male friends. And true to their expectations I never even looked at a guy, in fact never spoken to anyone else from outside.

Call me narrow-minded or immature or whatever. For me, my parents are everything. They are my world. Juts for the sake of something called love, I can’t wreak havoc in my beautiful family. Of course many of my friends as well as you may beg to differ with me. But you can’t make me shift preferences or my way of thinking.

I was doing my PhD in psychology at Bhavan’s in Mumbai. There was this certain guy who used to follow me, everyday to my home whenever it was late at night. Initially I thought somebody was trying to stalk me, but later on I came to know that he was kinda protecting me.

Of all jobs in this world, I thought he was jobless to follow me around and save me. But still I never hated him. I admired him, for he liked me and yet he never spoke to me. There were days when I walked along the deserted roads of Juhu beach road in the wake of midnight under the cover of the moon. But I never felt I was lonely or insecure, thanks to that guy.

All these days I have been so selfish. Probably he’s thinking that one day I might yield to his sincerity or whatsoever. One fine day, it was late at night as usual I was walking down the road when he followed me. I stopped and looked behind and gave him an angry stare that would have reduced him to ashes. But somehow he survived and perhaps he understood the meaning of that stare.

He stopped following me.

Every night I walked down these roads of Mumbai from Juhu to my home, my eyes involuntarily groped for him quite inexplicably.

Nobody can understand the depth of a woman’s convoluted mind. As long as some one follows you or loves you, we neglect him and once he’s away we know how much he meant for us.

And one day, all of a sudden, from nowhere he appeared before me and said this in a low voice, “Hi Amisha, I have known you since the time you are in college. That’s more than four and half years from now. I loved you at first sight. But had I told you at that time, you wouldn’t have believed me. And so I took my time to realize whether it’s true love or not…” and he paused for a while.

“I love you…” he finished.

God!!! I never expected this from him, I thought with that girlish meanness. I never thought he’s like every one else, every other guy on the streets. What all impression I had about him seemed to have vanished into thin air. The idolatrousness for him doesn’t exist anymore.

What big mistake did he make? He just proposed me. He hasn’t committed any heinous crime after all. But why I think this way? Perhaps the milieu enwombing me under which I was brought up. Or ….

I never said ‘Yes’ and at the same time, I never said a ‘NO’. Perhaps that meant a probable affirmation to him that he proposed three more times.

And the last time I met him, I said, “Look, I don’t know anything about you. You are a perfect stranger. Even if you were friends, I wouldn’t have loved you perhaps. Even if I loved you, my parents would anyways reject this love and of course me too. I know you have wasted so much precious time of yours.  Don’t any more. Please ….” I stood in front of him with my hands clasped close as if I were praying, in fact urging him.

It was an earnest request. I should have told him the same long back. Nevertheless, it’s not too late for anything.

He just gave me a smile. A smile which probably meant ‘Do you know what love means or do you know what it feels like to love or to be loved?’

“Ok. Forget all these things, can you atleast prove that you love me? More than anyone else in this world, even more than my parents?”

He was quiet for some time. He looked around and then picked up a bottle. He wrote a letter, and then pushed the letter into the bottle and flung it far into the sea.

“The message will reach you, and then you will understand how much….” he stopped.

That was the last time I ever saw him again.

Then I was married to Rohan.

And today Chinnu found a bottle with a message in it, which read, “I love you…. Chikku” (Chikku, that’s how he used to call me)

My feet trembled and the whole world shattered right infront of me. Thousands of miles, the bottle travelled and reaching its destination might not be a fluke or a mere coincidence. It’s just love, pure love. Probably the greatest of them all. Tears inadvertently cascaded down my cheeks. He loved me so much? I asked myself….

I am proud to have been loved by a great man who proved his love. And at the same time, I missed him. I missed him so much and all for a bottle of love.

“I love you too” I replied to that letter and signed Chikku and sealed it in the same bottle and flung it far into the sea.

Life has to go on. And I am already married. But perhaps I will never forget my paramour throughout my life.

My name is Amisha, and this is my story, a story worth the pages in my diary called life.

Click on the attached file to download it. You will need Microsoft PowerPoint to view this.

I though I should share some shayaris with you people.

Ye dil udaas hai bahut

Ye dil udaas hai bahut koi paighaam hi likh do
Tum apna naam na likho, chalo gumnaam hi likh do
Meri kismat me gham-e-tanhai hai lekin
Tamam umr na likho, magar ek shaam hi likh do
Ye janta hoon ke umr bhar tanha mujhko rehna hai
Magar pal do pal, ghadi do ghadi, mera naam hi likh do
Chalo hum maan lete hain saza ke mustahiq thehre
Koi inaam na likho, koi ilzaam hi likh do

Kuchh mausam sapne lagte hain

Shabnam ke katron mein kaise khiza ke rang jhalakte hain
Phoolo ke chehro se kushboo ke moti bikharte hain
Hawao ki rawani se aati hai sargam kar rimjhim
Jab pani ke lehron se voh atkheliya karti aati hai
Pairon ke kitaron mein phir thandak bansane aati hai
Jab suraj se mil kar sham suneheri ho jati hai
Kuch mausam sapne lagte hain kuch mausam apne lagte hain
Par dost mile tum jaisa to sub mausam sache lagte hain
Zindgi ki tanha lehron mein jo dosti ke moti pirote hain
Yoh phoolon ki traha dil ki rahon ko mehkate hain

Unki nazron mein

Unki nazron mein chipaa wohi raaz tha.
Wohi chehra wohi libaas tha.
Kaise keh doon unhe bewaffa yaaro.
Kyunki unka aaj bhi dekhne ka wohi andaaz tha

Labhon pe unke

Labhon pe unke aaj hamara naam aa gaya,
Pyaase ke saath jaise jaam aa gaya,
Pee kar dolle to geerey unki baahon mein,
Aaj hamara peena hi hamare kaam aa gaya.

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