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U WERE MY CRUSH PDF

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Full text of "you-were-my-crush_-till-you-said-you-love-me-durjoy-datta" Wheatish complexion, slim, with short, neat hair—that is what my matrimonial ad . Read "You Were My Crush Till You Said You Love Me!" by Durjoy Datta available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get RS. off your first download. You Were My Crush: Till You Said You Love Me! by Durjoy Datta. Read online.


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Download You Were My Crush!musicmarkup.info you said you love me-Durjoy Dutta & Orvana musicmarkup.info YOU WERE MY CRUSH DURJOY DATTA was born and brought up in New Delhi. He completed a degree in engineering and business management before . You Were My Crush! till you said you love me! book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. “What do you do when the person yo.

Not in India? Choose your country's store to see books available for download. Of Course I Love You! Durjoy Datta. Now That You're Rich. She Broke Up, I Didn't. Your Dreams Are Mine Now.

Saying all that, I personally felt that this book is among all his titles, the most predictable, boring and substance less. His last three books, including the one I am reviewing this time have failed to bring on my face a fresh story, that has characters not resembling his first two titles.

In third and fourth book, he almost re-narrated the first two in more elaboration and yet succeeded in selling so many copies, which shows that he does have a fan base, which reads his work irrespective of the originality of Idea and storyline base that it offers. The third and fourth titles, still had more moments of fun as compared to this one.

This book clearly shows how it has been rushed into publication and lacks the Durjoy Magic that his initial books had.

His dad is almost too perfect to be true and you can almost predict pages in advance to the end, how eventually he will fix everything in the same manner that he eventually fixes it. At times, its over flattery and attention for his charm, that makes it a little boring. His best buddy Eshaan is almost a side kick, that has no shade of his own, he fails to leave any impression on the mind of the reader and is almost never present in the story.

Same tragedies have struck to Deb and Avantika, they are there, god knows why? Either those two should have not been a part of this at all, or they should have been given more backbone than what they eventually got. Their parents, in the story almost have no opinions of their own. They are confused and right from start to end, appears to be dependent on mercy of others wisdom to see the obvious.

I mean just because he showed up at their door and accepted a relationship with her, cannot be any substance full reason to accept him as a son in law, considering the asshole he is in the whole of book.

The love between her and Benoy, happens too easily and almost reaches its climax of success abruptly in the same manner. The case might be that something which appeared fresh in the life of Deb in earlier novels is now nothing more than a repetitive overdose of predictable sex and boring conversations when u talk of this one.

I feel let down, by this one more so, because I was looking forward to see the independent writing of Durjoy, a person who already has a market base and could have experimented more in himself, especially since he was also the publisher of this one.

But to one of his regular readers in me, he failed to deliver on grounds of not only story unlike past two , but also as a fun-read, something his books are otherwise. The title is more interesting then the book.

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Rating — 2 on 5. Those 2 are for the cute chats and sms'es exchanged between Naina and Benoy in a few pages,somewhere in between. I restate despite being his critic from last two years, This writer is capable of far more then what he delivered this time again.

A big let down and waste of bucks. Looking forward to read him again, when he comes up with yet another title in the end of Feb. A book that, according to him, is his personal hard worked project. Price — Rs Publisher — Grapevine downloadd from CP, New Delhi PS — Admin talk — right at the start of this year, in Admin address, FL talked about how we are planning to make the website, more and more colorful, interactive and engaging for your experience.

This was new. I used to black out, but I never used to puke. Because people are meant to puke in toilets, dumbass, a voice in my head said.

I did not waste any more time. Fifteen stinking minutes later, the sink sparkled and I stank. I am never drinking again! I said to myself as I entered the shower. I loved the shower area. It was the second-best place after the gym I had set up a couple of months back.

It cost me … well, I do not know how much, for my father paid for it. All I know is that I loved it. Meanwhile, the maid was back and she had started to cook. And stop drinking so much, babu. Just as I flopped on the couch, the doorbell rang. The door was being banged now. Debashish was my cousin, five years older than me. He had turned twenty-five just the day before, and it was his party last night.

I have been calling you for the last twenty minutes. Anyway, where is Palak? Where is she? You left with her last night. All I remember is that we were there in the club and you guys were there too, and then I woke up on this couch. Then where the hell is she? I still had no clue as to what was happening. As I followed him into my bedroom, and tried to remember the sequence of events from the previous night, I saw him bent over an unconscious girl who lay on the side of my bed. We both helped her sit up on the bed.

She was still falling all over us and she stank of beer. Wake up! She wants to know where you are. Where is your phone? Get her some water! As I came back upstairs, I saw Palak mumble something. I was in a state of mild shock! I really had not expected this, even from myself. I had no memory of getting a girl home. It was not really the first time though, but usually I remember. What did Mom say? Is she angry? Does he know? Did he call? I tried to avoid her gaze as I looked for a room freshener.

She stank. She was freaking out, and she held her head. I stood there wondering whether it was in regret or if it was the hangover. I wanted to ask her, but I thought it would be better to let Deb handle it.

He had been in a relationship for over five years now. He had more experience in handling crying females than me. I told your mom that you were with Avantika. She shook her head and tears streamed down her cheeks in full flow. Thank God for Deb!

She is your friend not mine. You got her here. You are the one who is crazy, not her. And what would I say to Avantika? You have screwed me, man! Anyway, how is your hangover? I nodded; he was my brother after all.

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He even looked like me. He was just a shade shorter than me, but he never agreed on that. Lately, we had been working out together to get ourselves a perfect set of abs, but till then, we were sexually very unappealing. Deb helped her down the stairs. Bai looked at her, surprised. She did not say anything, just looked at me and gave me a half-hearted smile. Go to the kitchen or somewhere.

You Were My Crush!..till you said you love me-Durjoy Dutta & Orvana Ghai.pdf

She just said she puked in your house last night. And she is sorry about it. Fuck her! Well, at least I could drink again. Later, I found her cell phone in the kitchen. I had no intention of returning it. She had puked in my house. I had images of her puking in my sink going through my mind all morning and she was no longer cute to me! All this while, my phone kept ringing. It was Eshaan and he kept calling incessantly.

If he called less than five times then it had to be something frivolous. It had been one year in Hindu College, Delhi University, and there had not been a single day that he had not called me to let me know about the scheduled lectures, the extra classes, the extra notes that I might need, et cetera. My default state was to ignore his calls. I picked up the sixth call.

Yeah, right! Eshaan told me that a tax-planning professor was less than impressed about being offered money by Dad to mark my internal exam paper I had decided to leave the answer booklet blank a little leniently. The professor wanted to talk to me in person now.

He was not quite right. My father was a wealthy man. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, or diamond. You get the drift. My bank accounts were always loaded; credit-card bills were never a problem. The car I drove, the house I lived in, it was all his but still mine. Last year, when I had screwed up my board exams and it looked like it would be hard to get into a Delhi University college, I had called up my father.

Not bad at all, was it? I did not hate studying, but when you have everything, education is never the top priority. My father was kind to me but not without reason. My parents were divorced and we were never on talking terms. He was a stranger to me, and I was brought up fatherless since I was eight.

I did not miss him. Until a year ago, till the time Mom was alive, he had some point of contact in the family. However, when she lost her battle to cancer last year, he had no one left.

The car, the house, the gym—all these were his attempts to download me. I was greedy enough to let him download things, but not as much to sell myself.

I drove all the way to college to meet the honest, upright, asshole professor of mine. I always assumed that professors are poorly paid. Why would he turn down extra money? He wants to meet me, right? Nevertheless, I could not ignore Eshaan either. If there was anything I knew about BCom, it was through him.

Well, not just BCom: He was such a darling! Had I been a girl, I would have kissed him and hugged him. Well, maybe not. I will be in Kamla Nagar. Relationships, I tell you, they totally fuck up even the sanest of men.

He had started dating a girl from Daulat Ram College. It had been a year and he was nuts about her. Eshaan was charming, smiled more than necessary, cared more than necessary, was unnecessarily fair and was immensely likeable.

He was cute, like a little brother, like a panda. It often went against him. He was often too cute for any girl. I wished Sonil would see that, too. I hated her. She thought I was a vain, ill-behaved, rich brat, and an asshole. I walked through the corridors, smiling at every face that I came across. I recognized a few faces and a few of them recognized me.

Last year, I had joined college with much fanfare. I drove big cars to college, argued with seniors and professors alike. Very soon, I was infamous in the college for my behaviour and unabashed abuse of the power I wielded.

After a few days, people got busy and they promptly forgot about my existence. I had to be with her. She had left her job and her condition deteriorated with every passing day. Doctors had not given her much time. I wanted to spend every waking second with her. She had started losing herself to cancer and it became infuriatingly tough for me. I had always seen her as a strong woman, who brought me up as a single mother—managed work and a worthless son.

It was torturous to see her like that—frail, weak, losing weight and hair every day, vomiting and crying. Even behind those smiles she faked, I could see what she was going through. I had never imagined my life without her. Every single day, I saw her going through the pain. Little by little, I saw her die. I heard her in agony every day and wished I could take it away. When I used to sit on the cold, hard bench of the hospital and hear her cry, I wished that she would go peacefully rather than go through the excruciating pain every day.

It was my mom on the bed. She deserved better. She had done nothing to deserve this pain. Finally, the day came when she left me behind. It was a very hard time for me. When my mom passed away, I stopped going to college.

I had prepared myself for the loss, but nothing prepares you for death, nothing prepares you for absence. With her death, a small part of me died too. I did not cry for days.

I lived in denial. I thought I would wake up some day and find her caressing my hair. It had become impossible to live any longer in that house. The silence used to drive me crazy. I used to leave water bottles everywhere, thinking that she would be there to put them back in the fridge. I used to shout at nights, asking her for dinner only to realize that she was no longer there. I used to remember all those times when my mother wanted to talk to me after a long day at her office and I used to be too busy on the phone with my friends.

I used to regret every such moment. The birthdays I was not there with her. I used to feel embarrassed when Mom used to hug me in public. However, in that empty house, and in my empty life, I could have done anything to have her rest my head on her shoulder and put me to sleep. I loved my mom and I missed her every day.

She left a huge void in my life. She was everything to me, my only family. Over this period, I had started to drink and smoke heavily. I did everything to fill up the emptiness in my life. Nothing worked. After the person I had loved the most died in my own arms, everything else stopped to matter.

It took me a few months to get back to normal. I crossed a line of staff offices with different names on them. Finally, I saw the name in bold letters— Dr S. Ashra Tax Planning. I knocked on the door and the voice from the other side asked me to come in. I was pleasantly surprised as I had expected him to blast me. That is what he had called me for, right?

Eshaan had told me he had a reputation of being nasty with students. He was forty-five but looked older. With his short stature, small paunch and unintelligent looks, I would have guessed him to be a government clerk and not a professor. It was hard to believe that he had turned down a bribe.

He looked like someone who would have mattresses stuffed with money from bribes. I did not want to lie. I just wanted him to accept the money and get lost. You left the paper empty? If it was anything like that, it was going perfectly for me.

Now, I just hoped he wanted money, and not me. That would have been weird. That he called me was an honour in itself. I wondered if he was being sarcastic. I knew the look in his eyes. It was greed. It seemed he did not want the money. He wanted something more. After ten minutes, during which I totally lost any respect for the professor, I walked out of the room. I checked my phone and it had thirteen missed calls from Eshaan. He was tenser about the entire situation than I was. Eshaan always thought of me as a lost soul, and maybe after what happened in the first year, I was.

Since I did not have any real friends in college, he always took it upon himself to see to it that I was not bored or feeling out of place there. I cried a little, begged him to score me, and then he said he would give me the average marks for the exam. I told you! I did not tell him what really happened. After I cut the call, I did what I hated doing the most— calling up Dad.

These calls were important and I could not run away from them. These paid for my life. How are you? I was right. Bedroom mattresses stuffed with money. Eshaan was wrong. My father could download everything. Aunty had lived her life for only two purposes. The first was to get Deb fat. She had been trying to do that since forever. She had almost succeeded when Deb touched eighty-five kilograms when he was in college, but he had lost all that weight now.

The second was to get him married to a Bengali girl in true Bengali style. However, Deb had crushed her dreams when he told his parents he would be marrying Avantika, a Punjabi girl.

Her mom had reacted as if someone had died. She is still in shock. My foot! Anyway, Benoy, which coaching classes are you joining? For what? I really did not like where the conversation was heading.

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I thought it was because she wanted me to feel that I was cared for, and loved. He hardly studied for it.

You Were My Crush!...till you said you love me!

I often wondered if his brother, my dad, would be like him, too. Not even a wedding. I could see that Deb did not like the conversation. Avantika and Deb were not seeing each other any more.

However, they were still very much in love. Avantika and Deb had had a strange relationship over the years. They were the ideal couple for very many years until the time they entered college at MDI, Gurgaon, and things started to go downhill.

You Were My Crush – Stories of a lifetime

Deb, drunk and out of his senses, cheated on Avantika, and Avantika had walked out. After the break-up, Deb had spent months in Mumbai, without a job, trying to convince her to come back.

Avantika did not budge. Deb had never discussed his problems with Avantika with us. His eyes were stuck to the television, and it was apparent that he did not want to talk about her. Wedding plans will do! She smiled her widest and I was happy that I had said that.

Soon, after that, his parents left. Never bring up Avantika in front of Mom. Or kissed! I was just a little curious. I wanted to know if something had happened and whether I should call her and apologize.

She was pretty after all and I had been single for too long. I had been a fool to ask you to drop her! Avantika had advised against it. I should have listened to her.

Avantika thinks you sleep around! Sleep around? I had not dated anyone in more than a year now.

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I was too involved with Mom, and the last girl I had dated was in school and we broke up when she shifted to Australia for her graduation. I had had crushes on girls, but things had not worked out. I had been too preoccupied. I remembered, when I was fifteen, Deb used to tell me stories about all his flings and relationships. All this was before Avantika came around and straightened everything out. Avantika was an incredibly beautiful female.

I still have the text Deb had first sent me when I asked him about Avantika after their first meeting. She is so hard to describe, Benoy.

Those limpid, wet, black eyes screamed for love. There is nothing better than a melancholic beautiful face. The moonlight that reflected off her perfectly sculpted face seemed the only light illuminating the place. Somebody was standing with a blower nearby to get her streaked hair to cover her face so that she could look sexier managing it.

She had the big eyes of a month-old child, big and screaming for attention. A perfectly crafted nose, flawless bright-pink lips and a milky-white complexion that would put Photoshop to shame. Oh hell, she is way out of my league.

She is a goddamn goddess. I just could not look beyond her face. I think I am in love. He has been in love ever since. I envied him. Deep down, I wanted something like what he shared with Avantika. Deb was the one who had exposed me to relationships, make-outs and flings, and he was often surprised at my non-existent love life. He often thought that I was lying.

Since he had slept around back in his day, he thought I had done that, too. Deb often said that if he had my kind of money, cars and everything else, he would be dating Deepika Padukone.

But then again, I was not that rich. I did not own an airline. Or have a British accent. I had picked him up from his house that day. He had called me more than twelve times that morning so it had to be important. He was tense and his face was red.

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He was a director at some management college before this, so he is extraordinarily strict. He divided us into groups and assigned us project work. I am in your group, right?

Diya, the group leader, sent the list to sir without adding your name. We have the presentations today, and all the other groups are full. Anyway, one of the groups had to have one extra member, right? If not, we will talk to sir.

We reached college and headed directly for our class. It had been really long since I had last gone there. She was sixth on it. It was a terrible tragedy. Ever since she had joined college, she had had a one-point agenda. She was the geek queen and she looked like it—dull clothes, big spectacles and her curly hair all over the place, the perfect picture of a full-scholarship student.

These guys did not even know I was a part of their class. I could have asked Dad to get me through this class as well, but I wanted to avoid calling him again at any darned cost. People in her group nodded obediently. For the first time I saw Eshaan a little off his game. She stared directly at the two of us, like a witch, and we were scared as shit.

I have never felt at home with intelligent and confident women; they have never found me funny or smart. Why would anyone love them? They only make you feel stupid and inadequate all the time. I checked and we were seven students in the group already.

I mailed the work division to all the members. In the back of my mind, I was already feeling terrible because it seemed I would have to ask my dad to download this professor too. I was proving to be a very expensive kid. We will tell him that we forgot to put my name in. What about that? Benoy, right? Little Miss Perfect. Let Eshaan be the leader then. She looked angry now, her nostrils were flaring and her eyes were bloodshot.

I guessed she had burst a nerve or two inside. I wanted to step back a little. Just in case. I will not put the whole group at risk just for you. I did not know what to say. It looked like she would throw her laptop at my face. Thankfully, she did not. I did not want my face to get any uglier.

I walked away. As I strode outside the class, I could hear Diya shout at Eshaan and tell him what a horrible guy I was. I did not care. Never seen him in class! Her nostrils still looked like caves and the big eyes behind those spectacles looked at me as if they were trying to blow me up. She had a striking resemblance to the lizard on the ceiling that watched me just as she did. He was younger and he definitely looked sharper than the other professors who taught us.

I have never understood these students. Why do they have to go ahead and remind teachers that they had to screw us? How do you guys think you did in your projects?

The answers ranged from okay to good to could-have-been-better. I looked at Diya with a cold stare although her eyes were stuck on the professor. Freaking nerd girl. Just pathetic! I had always considered that my ears were impervious to any nonsense from teachers and professors, but this professor was loud. Windows shattered, guys pissed in their pants and people broke out of their daydreams.

I cannot believe this is the state of affairs at one the most prestigious graduate colleges in India. No wonder you guys never make it to management colleges and those students from engineering colleges do. No commerce student wanted to be compared to an engineering student and be told that he or she was less intelligent or brainy. All you did was copy-paste from websites. Only numbers! Where was the analysis? I asked for a study. What did you think your numbers meant? Who all were in the group with you?

Everyone in the group stood up, and I stood up too. I wanted to make it worse for her. I wanted to stomp on her. Bloody lizard. The professor looked at all of us. He counted. The veins in his eyes had turned red and thick in anger.

You were the group leader, right? Do you even come to college? Are you a part of this group or not? I could almost see tears in her eyes. I pumped my fist. Take that, bitch. Bitchy Lizard.

Look at the two of you. What do you think this is? First grade? Everyone in the class will repeat their projects. You will choose new topics and I will send you the guidelines this time. And you two, yes, you will form a new group and only you two will work on the project.

He is irresponsible and brash. Her desperation was extreme. Life is so fair. She was now stuck with a lazy, incompetent guy! That will not happen. Do you get it? Life is so unfair. Later, he added he could ask either of us to present and we would be marked as a group. Therefore, if I were to screw up, Diya would get a zero, too. It was a foolproof plan to screw us up.

He said he would ensure the external examiners did not score our final papers. For the rest of the period, he kept harping on about how disciplined and intelligent students are in IIT Delhi, the college from where he graduated. He was pissing off everybody in the class. Up your ass, I wanted to say. I should have been worried but I was happy that the arrogant girl got screwed with me as well; her shoulders had drooped and her face had lost its colour.

As soon as the class ended, Diya started to look for me. I hid behind a big group of students and left the class with them. Fuck her, but yes, I was scared too. I was just indifferent.