DSPL

SPLACEED

satish

krishnamur-

thy victoria c

h

o alina alter shweta s

uratkar rehab chougle kati

e

araba n. abhishek m. roshni

mulchandani

arlene chang

neha s. nikita

shah nikhil

subramaniiam

michael k.

dion h aditya

shrikrishna sri

nikita shah azm venki

itachalam

ne

ita houshiar s

atish kris

hna

namurthy victoria c

ho alina alter

shweta suratka

r rehab chougle kati

e araba n. abhishek m. roshni

mulchandani arlene chang

neha s. nikita

shah nikhil su

b r aman i am

michael k.

dion h. aditya

s h r i k r i s h n a

m venkitachalam

g

nikita shah neha s

ita houshiar s

ati

sh krishnamurt

thy victoria c

h

o alina alter

shweta sur

atkar reh

ab chou

gle kat

tie ara

ba n

A Collective Storytelling Experiment

Volume

SEP 200901

abhishek m. rosh

ni mulchandani arl

lene chang neha s. n

ikita shah

amaniam

el k. dion h

nikhil subra

michael k.

aditya shrikr

ishna sriram

sriram venki

tachalam

nikita shah neh

azita houshiar s

atish kris

hnamu

rthy victoria c

ho alina alt

er sh

weta suratka

r

rehab chougl

e katie arab

a

n. abhishek m

m. roshni mul

chandani arle

ne chang neh

a s. nikita

sha

h nikhil subra

subramaniam

subramaniamaditya s

rikrish

na sriram ven

srirvenkitac

ha

venkitachalam

Dsplaced

you do, fee l f ree to share th is co l lect ion of s tor ies.

Dsplaced Vo lume 01 is a co l lect ion of e ighteen stor ies and quotes

that have been submit ted to dsp laced.com by people across the

g lobe. We hope you en joy reading these as much as we d id. I f

Foreword

Jinal & Mans

i

Azita Hous

hiar

Victoria

Cho

QUOTESTORY

Alina Alter

Neha S.

Roshni M

ulchand

ani

Nikita Shah

Arlene C

hang

Katie

Abhishek

M.

Araba N

.

Dion H.

Satish K

rishnam

urthy

Nikhil S

ubram

aniam

Sriram Ve

nkitac

halam

Rehab C

hougle

21

22

0608

14

10

07

16

20

23 24

25

19

18

26

ContEntS05

04

Shweta Sura

tkar

1313

Michael K

.

12

Aditya S

hrikrish

na

27Image

Credits

28

Dsplaced i l luminates a universal palette of emotions that indiv iduals often spend a l i fet ime try ing to decipher. But most important ly, Dsplaced is an experiment in col lect ive storytel l ing – and i t is our fervent hope that you wi l l become a part of th is mosaic. We know no other way that wi l l a l low us to create a place that overt ime wi l l bui ld i tsel f into a r ich tapestry of personal stor ies. Read the stor ies and i f you feel ready, share your story with us.

www.dsplaced.com | dsplaced@gmai l.com

We look forward to reading your story.

Jinal & Mansi(Founders)

FoREWoRD

4

JinAl ShAh

“Sometimes when I ’m dr iv ing on the I-9

5 in

Phi ladelphia, I get a strange sense of being

in Bombay and dr iv ing past the Queen’s

necklace. And then - I real ize, I ’m not in

Bombay.”

MAnSi tRiVEDi

“ I hold on to l i t t le things. Bol lywood, Bangles, Bhangra,

Brass and Brinja l Curry. They are my breadcrumbs that

lead me back to Bombay. To home.”

5

Home was in my grandmother’s lap in her garden as she braided my hair & spun tales of Princess of Naranj & Toranj, and dipped sugarcubes in her tea.”

azita houshiar

6

“

home .

home is about family. No matter where i am, if i am with my family, i am

neha s.

”

“7

victoria cho

victoria cho

Some people thought I was insane to return to America when the economy was sinking, when I could easi ly get another teaching job in Asia, when I expressed such dis l ike over New York, and when I consistent ly praised the cheapness, the beauty, and the kind people of Asia.

I returned to New York anyway. I was t i red of travel ing and the inabi l i ty to hold conversat ions with others.

I cr ied a few t imes my f i rst week whi le staying with a fr iend in Washington Heights. I loathed the crowds, the f i l thy packed subway cars, the dir ty and too numerous bui ld ings that seemed as i f they wanted to topple on me and press me into the dir ty, rat poop-covered sidewalk, the noise noise noise, and the people’s ubiqui tous addict ion to a Blackberry, an iPhone, or some other electronic device. What New York cla imed as parks were as covered with people as Chinatown and sometimes not much cleaner.

I lost focus. I had trouble reading, wri t ing, thinking, breathing, and staying in the moment, a concept I found incredibly soothing and rel ieving in Thai land.

Al l I longed for were Buddhist temples, parks with waterfal ls, and the casual interpretat ion of t ime that meant i f people proposed meet ing at 2 PM, 2:15 or even 2:30 would st i l l be acceptable.

My wel l-being and mental i ty s l ight ly improved once I moved into my Brooklyn apartment. I have a spacious bedroom on a tree-l ined block inhabited by fami l ies. Down the street, chi ldren play basketbal l in a park or have f ie ld tr ips to the Brooklyn Chi ldren’s museum. There are bike paths on my cross streets, and I ’m in close proximity to Prospect Park, the Brooklyn Library, and the Brooklyn Museum.

Although I ’ve formed a comfort ing rout ine of wri t ing, reading, apply ing to jobs, meditat ing, and doing yoga, I st i l l don’t know i f I can or ever wi l l cal l New York home. Sometimes Port land or San Francisco whisper in my ear. Sometimes, places farther away. I ’ve physical ly returned to America, but where has my mind sett led? Is this a return to the past or is this real ly the beginning of another adventure?

A NEW DAY. A NEW ADVENTURE

9

arlene chang

I love the f i rst snow of the season…It’s l ike a deja vu of the f i rst ra ins back home. The gl i tch though is, i t doesn’t smel l as div ine as India’s wet earth.

Last year was my f i rst winter, af ter just four months, in New York. And, being from a tropical country l ike India and a humid ci ty l ike Bombay, the snow thr i l led me to no end. I celebrated - went out and danced in the snow with snowflakes fal l ing on my face, the cold bi t ing my skin and most of al l , I indulged in a frol icking snow f ight with fr iends. I could wel l have been singing ‘Raindrops keep fal l ing on my head’. Only, these were snowflakes…

Something simi lar happened today. As the skies burst open, my feet suddenly had a l i fe of i ts own. I was walking with a l i l t in my gait and looking towards the sky, as i f wait ing for the snow to lash my face. Of course, that didn’t happen. Snowflakes don’t lash your face as passionately as raindrops do. At best, they can give you a frostbi te.

As I was enjoying my walk from off ice to the subway, I was happy about my happiness - a feel ing that New York doesn’t manage to evoke from me oftent imes. But then,

I had this sudden craving for cutt ing chai, butter makka and garma garam bhaj iyas…Of course, those cravings remained just that - cravings. I correct myself here.

I love the f i rst snow, but I l ive for the lashing rains of Bombay. The smel l and sound of butter on a garam bhutta, the cutt ing chai from the tapr is and the taste of freshly made bhaj iyas on my already scalded tongue. I love the passion of the rains, the sal ty spray from the wi ld Arabian Sea messing with my hair and of course, the smel l of my earth. The smel l of India.

DEJA VU

10

arlene chang

Home.Will we ever really find it? Will our hearts ever settle? We flee from place to place, forever searching for that bit of stability. And when we think we have found it, something quickly proves

us wrong. We get bored or discover that things aren’t as we expected. And off we go, with eyes turned to the road once again. Home is something evasive; something wet and slippery and hard to grasp. And when we do manage to grab it, it is oh so eager to escape our grip.

michael k.

New York and Mumbai are similar. But there is one difference amongst its dwellers. In NY the 18 inch separation of space between two people transcends to their hearts.In Mumbai, it’s just the space.

New York and Mumbai are similar. But there is one difference amongst its dwellers. In NY the 18 inch separation of space between two people transcends to their hearts. In Mumbai, it’s just the space.

shweta suratkar

alina alter

Tokyo swal lowed me up in one neon-f lashing, subway-mobbing, impossibly br ight and impeccably-sty led gulp. I l ive here now. I say the words careful ly, let t ing them rol l over my tongue (trembl ing from a day of stumbl ing through the staccato fortress that is Japanese). I ’m glad to be seen carry ing grocery bags down the al ley behind my apartment- i t means people know I l ive here.

Were I merely a tour ist, I surely wouldn’t be grocery shopping, buying my t iny food to store in my t iny fr idge in my t iny room. I ’m proud to wait in l ine at the market, the pharmacy, the ward, I ’m proud to be attempting to inf i l t rate the biggest ci ty on the planet, knowing that i f I pushed any further east, I would start wrapping around the globe, and be heading towards home again. But here I am, head spinning, blood pumping the inexhaust ible soundtrack of the ci ty into my veins. House music maybe, or some syrupy, digi ta l ized, genre of the future. I am perpetual ly over-st imulated in my new l i fe here. My eyes are never not straining, my brain never not processing. And I am constant ly reading, reading, reading.

When I f i rst arr ived, al l the signs, advert isements, and not ices were nothing more to me than a random combinat ion of l ines, swir ls, shapes, and designs. Nothing wri t ten held any meaning for me, which led to immense frustrat ion, confusing, and disor ientat ion. Yet I di l igent ly kept studying the characters, wri t ing and rewri t ing them on every avai lable surface, a sort of mania that led my hand r ight off the paper I was working on. Final ly, one day on the tra in, I looked up at an advert isement, neurotransmitters f i red in the way they’re supposed to, and I found that I could sound out the words wri t ten

in front of me. I t was painstaking at f i rst, test ing my motivat ion and pat ience, and I can’t qui te descr ibe the sensat ion, but the world around me had suddenly become accessible, no longer the overwhelming, myster ious Babylon that i t had been. That’s the day that I began walking into things.

Anyt ime I saw a sign, an advert isement, even a menu posted outside, I craned my neck to read i t . I read everything, s lowly ident i fy ing and sounding out each character, then str inging them together, and f inal ly attempting to glean the meaning as a whole. This frequent ly required me to stop walking suddenly in my tracks, thus causing a pi le-up of throngs of busy Tokyoites behind me, or better yet, caused me to walk direct ly into a stat ionary object in front of me as my head was st i l l turned and my mouth st i l l mumbl ing incoherent ly and exci tedly to myself. Having been here for several months now, I st i l l read everything I can, though I ’ve learned not to in jure my sel f or others in the process.

And when I ’m not reading the ent i re ci ty, I ’m breathing i t , sweat ing i t , squeezing i t , tast ing i t , cradl ing i t , captur ing i t , seducing i t , and grasping i t , prepar ing for the day when I ’ l l have to remember i t .

RE

AD

ING

TH

E C

ITY

15alina alter

For more reasons than one, I believe that my parents should have invested in a family airplane. It would have really saved them a lot of money that was spent on our travel and moving about. Born, bred and bought up in Hong Kong was perhaps the best experience of my life. I was born much before it was handed back to the Chinese regime and for majority of my childhood lived in British controlled Hong Kong. My British school was the biggest melting pot in the world. Enrolled were expatriates from the U.K., Indians, Aussies, Chinese and a whole amalgamation of other cultures. While I grew up eating Sunday Dim-Sum, learning British grammar and spelling, at home we were still a typical Sindhi Hindu family. Our lives evolved around Hindi movies, Monday temple visits, Friday ashram services and Saturday Bharatnatyam classes followed by Bollywood hip-hop sessions. My memories of my childhood are filled with antarkshari afternoons which my father and I often won as a tag team and Hindi movies galore. My parents were also great travelers. The minute we would have a break from school, we

would pack our bags and head anywhere we could. My British passport is filled with stamps including: U.S.A, Indonesia, Russia, Spain, Austria, The Philippines, Thailand and of course, India.

Most of my summers were spent in the grueling but amazing Bombay (more recently Mumbai) monsoons. I remember being forewarned not to eat any foods sold by the roadside hawkers and secretly gorging on local goodies on an outing with my friends. Mumbai is definitely my favorite city in the world. I love everything it stands for. While everyone know it is a city whose spirit cannot be broken, Mumbai has an essence which cannot be imitated. The minute I step off the plane into Chattrapathi Shivaji airport in Mumbai and smell Indian soil, I think… “Yay! I’m home!” And naturally, tears fall from my eyes when I leave.

When it came down to choosing a city to head off to study, I knew it had to be New York. I had been there previously and absolutely loved the city. Manhattan in itself, is the world on an island. No where else in the world will you find a mini Korea, Japan, India and China

all housed within a 23 kilometer radius. In addition, the energy and buzz the city never sleeps possesses is literally pulsating. On numerous occasions during my stay in New York, my best friend and I would realize we were bored at 3 a.m. only to walk out and be surrounded by tons of people in Times Square. I doubt I slept for over six hours a day until I sadly graduated.

I then moved westward to sunny California. It was perhaps one of the most humbling experiences in my life. From constantly living in a city, I moved into a small “village” in the east bay known as Fremont. Why “village” you ask? Well it is actually known as the city of Fremont but I think I live in the tallest building which is only five floors high which technically makes it a village. I constantly complain about this small city but it is really is not that bad. Because of the amount of Indian influence in this minor metropolis, it has come to gain its name as Little India. It is rather fitting as it accommodates a popular Indian cinema, a number of Desi supermarkets and restaurants. In all honesty, I initially complained nonstop about living in

such a small city. But over time, I’ve come to like the peace and slight resemblance to India that Fremont encompasses. While I may never call it “home,” it is a city which I will hold close to my heart.

Personally, I’ve come to a point in my life where I think I need to head back east now. It is ultimately my dream to make India my home for a simple reason that I don’t think I have found my home till date. They say home is where the heart is and my dil goes dhak-dhak for India. I can’t imagine living the rest of my life anywhere else. I really wish there was such thing as a Global Passport for citizens such as myself. After all, the world is getting smaller by the minute.

A lot of the time, I feel like I’ve come too far west for my own good making me feel sometimes d(i)splaced in this world, but definitely not in life. However, that said, the world is your oyster and as much as I have globe-trotted all over the world, I can safely say I am hardly lost in translation.

HARDLY LOST IN TRANSLAT ION

roshni mulchandani

For more reasons than one, I believe that my parents should have invested in a family airplane. It would have really saved them a lot of money that was spent on our travel and moving about. Born, bred and bought up in Hong Kong was perhaps the best experience of my life. I was born much before it was handed back to the Chinese regime and for majority of my childhood lived in British controlled Hong Kong. My British school was the biggest melting pot in the world. Enrolled were expatriates from the U.K., Indians, Aussies, Chinese and a whole amalgamation of other cultures. While I grew up eating Sunday Dim-Sum, learning British grammar and spelling, at home we were still a typical Sindhi Hindu family. Our lives evolved around Hindi movies, Monday temple visits, Friday ashram services and Saturday Bharatnatyam classes followed by Bollywood hip-hop sessions. My memories of my childhood are filled with antarkshari afternoons which my father and I often won as a tag team and Hindi movies galore. My parents were also great travelers. The minute we would have a break from school, we

would pack our bags and head anywhere we could. My British passport is filled with stamps including: U.S.A, Indonesia, Russia, Spain, Austria, The Philippines, Thailand and of course, India.

Most of my summers were spent in the grueling but amazing Bombay (more recently Mumbai) monsoons. I remember being forewarned not to eat any foods sold by the roadside hawkers and secretly gorging on local goodies on an outing with my friends. Mumbai is definitely my favorite city in the world. I love everything it stands for. While everyone know it is a city whose spirit cannot be broken, Mumbai has an essence which cannot be imitated. The minute I step off the plane into Chattrapathi Shivaji airport in Mumbai and smell Indian soil, I think… “Yay! I’m home!” And naturally, tears fall from my eyes when I leave.

When it came down to choosing a city to head off to study, I knew it had to be New York. I had been there previously and absolutely loved the city. Manhattan in itself, is the world on an island. No where else in the world will you find a mini Korea, Japan, India and China

all housed within a 23 kilometer radius. In addition, the energy and buzz the city never sleeps possesses is literally pulsating. On numerous occasions during my stay in New York, my best friend and I would realize we were bored at 3 a.m. only to walk out and be surrounded by tons of people in Times Square. I doubt I slept for over six hours a day until I sadly graduated.

I then moved westward to sunny California. It was perhaps one of the most humbling experiences in my life. From constantly living in a city, I moved into a small “village” in the east bay known as Fremont. Why “village” you ask? Well it is actually known as the city of Fremont but I think I live in the tallest building which is only five floors high which technically makes it a village. I constantly complain about this small city but it is really is not that bad. Because of the amount of Indian influence in this minor metropolis, it has come to gain its name as Little India. It is rather fitting as it accommodates a popular Indian cinema, a number of Desi supermarkets and restaurants. In all honesty, I initially complained nonstop about living in

such a small city. But over time, I’ve come to like the peace and slight resemblance to India that Fremont encompasses. While I may never call it “home,” it is a city which I will hold close to my heart.

Personally, I’ve come to a point in my life where I think I need to head back east now. It is ultimately my dream to make India my home for a simple reason that I don’t think I have found my home till date. They say home is where the heart is and my dil goes dhak-dhak for India. I can’t imagine living the rest of my life anywhere else. I really wish there was such thing as a Global Passport for citizens such as myself. After all, the world is getting smaller by the minute.

A lot of the time, I feel like I’ve come too far west for my own good making me feel sometimes d(i)splaced in this world, but definitely not in life. However, that said, the world is your oyster and as much as I have globe-trotted all over the world, I can safely say I am hardly lost in translation.

roshni mulchandani

In a maximum city that runs

so fast, it is only when

you are still that you can

spot the next opportunity.

satish krishnamurthy

“i am twenty years between homes, and counting.

home is a cloud.”

19

dion h.

rehab chougle

Moving from Muscat, Oman to Mumbai, India was like moving from a sleepy faraway cottage in the countryside to a high rise in a bustling city. Muscat is the sleepy, towny, cosy city where your friends know your grandmother’s name, where pongal is celebrated with as much fervour as is Hanukkah. While Mumbai is a city in random motion. Sometimes Mumbai shows purpose…other times its chaotic is a blissful ignorant way. When I first moved,

I hated the adjustment and the frequent smoke, the easy friendships, the pani puri made with dirty hands. Today, its home. It matters and it keeps me running on smoke…packed trains and yummilicious pani puri.. Muscat is an like an old classic in your aunt’s cellar and Mumbai is like a bestseller chick-lit that mirrors your life and your laughs. Both are dear to my heart.

M U S C AtM U M B A i

> t o >

nikita shah

Words are pretty potent things.What happens when you wake up a Dream? I`m having Déjà vu about the whole thing. In Dreams that come true, Life surpasses the time-space continuum.

From city to city, the curious ones go.

Seekers. Wanderers. Dreamers. Go. Going. Gone. I’ve just arrived. I`m a big city girl. They assured me I’ll get by just fine. I`m resting assured. I`m just a restless kind of person. It took two suitcases to pack a lifetime into. Well, almost. I hate baggage. Memories are beyond backpacks. Thank God. Comfort Zones get too cushy sometimes. This Life is brand new; in Debit, on Credit. There is something so sinister about plastic money; you just don’t see the damned thing. Out of sight yet on the mind. All the time.From Paanch Rupaiyaa Baarah Aana to Dollars and Pennies. From Dolphin to Orange to Airtel to AT&T.

From family surveillance to a lusty freedom.

From Mummy to Roomie.

It’s snowing and I am jubilant. I was so jubilant all through Fall. Spring is on the anvil, I shall be jubilant. I’ll go home to Summer if I can buy myself a ticket out of here. I think I`m here to stay. Love is unconditional yet Life is not. It’s all so amusing and anecdotal. Like the stuff you want to make scrapbooks about. Blog worthy. Solitude begins tasting bad when it turns into Loneliness. I`m doing great so far. I’ve just arrived. So busy watching busy people going about their businesses. You’ve to internalise a lot of things to adapt faster. Can sense I’m going to be real busy real soon. Yearned to be here and got lucky. It’s so expensive to keep this dream alive.

No Rant, please.

So, like I was saying, I awoke once to a Dream and turns out its American. What, really? Words are such wasted little things.

Let’s meet. Your city or mine?

CUt ShoRt

My fingers have been frozen more often in the last year of my life than in the previous 23 years combined. In Minnesota, I brushed inches of soft, floury snow away from the windshield of my car with a gloved hand almost daily. The remnants of snow on my glove would melt and seep through to the dry, cracked skin beneath. In Oregon, I’ve stooped on my knees and wrestled with putting chains on my tires with stiff, mud-covered fingers, so that I would make it over icy hills and overpasses. I grew up in Texas, where winters are mild. I put up most of my Christmas trees in shorts. I had never even seen real snow until I left—had only poked my fingers giddily into an inch or so of icy slush on a handful of memorable occasions. I hadn’t known that snow could be so soft or so dry, that it could be as fine as mist or as heavy as crocodile tears. I didn’t know that on the coldest days, it would blow across pavement like sand or that it really could form perfect, glittering flakes. I didn’t know I could become so tired of the color white. I had a lot to learn when I left. Snow—which had seemed such an obvious thing before I moved across the country, I never considered there was anything to learn about it, except perhaps how to drive in it—was one of the first.

FROM SAND TO SNOW

katie

22

hoME iS A PlACE WhERE yoU CAn BE

yoURSElF. WhERE yoU ARE At PEACE.

abhishek m.

A man, as justification for me to move into his home, remarked, “for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also”. I scoffed, with disdain, at his attempt to bend a spiritual notion to suit his carnal desires.

The last few years, though, as I’ve moved from country to country, presumably satisfying my wanderlust, those words have haunted me. Home was always a physical place – where my bed was, inhabited by those I cared about most. Accordingly, I’m now homeless – most of my stuff is in storage, I go to an empty apartment at day’s end, and should I not show, my bed will not seek after me.

But, has the very scattering of my possessions and loss of physical proximity to family created this displacement or is it merely an allegorical parallel? For a short period I moved back to my parents’ home. Sadly, it did not re-settle my heart. I’m disillusioned – unaware if the treasure my heart seeks is material, human, or spiritual. I do know it no longer tolerates the flux and flight it’s endured the last decade. So I’m eagerly seeking my treasure, whatever it may be, wherever it may lie, in the hope it’ll grant my heart the reprieve it so longs from displacement.

IN SEARCH OF MY TREASURE

araba n.24

nikhil subramaniam

2-1=?

One home stays awake past bedtime, another sleeps too early. I cannot live without

either. Now I may be facing my biggest fear. I have a feeling that one home is closing its

doors on me.

I shunt between two

homes. One affords me freedom, another

gives me comfort and rest. One lets me breathe, the other lets me breathe out. Both are homes away from

the other home.

Home is the place you leave because some of it is rotten and you don’t believe you can repair it.

sriram venkitachalam

26

Remember that you have everything to gain when you get displaced. Try as much as possible, to get lost in this big bad world. It could turn into the greatest lesson of your life.

“

”

aditya shrikrishna

SanDev on Fl ickrhttp://www.f l ickr.com/photos/57652915@N00/528146146

I M A G E CREDITS

MumbaiVasi on Fl ickrhttp://www.f l ickr.com/photos/28307387@

N04/2648518541/sizes/o/

Free Vector World Map by Studio 7 Designshttp://www.studio7designs.com/

Dpup on Fl ickrhttp://www.f l ickr.com/photos/dpup/2807037869/sizes/ l/

chezrump on Fl ickrhttp://www.f l ickr.com/photos/paulhol l ingworth/140434906/

sizes/o/

doudou on Fl ickrhttp://www.f l ickr.com/photos/22874768@

N05/2797137513/

Valer iBishophttp://www.valer iebishop.com/

si tebui lder/ images/i l lustrat ion1-

966x716.jpg

I Travel East on Fl ickrhttp://www.f l ickr.com/photos/i_travel_east/3451296269/

Manojd on Fl ickrhttp://www.f l ickr.com/photos/manojd

Manojd on Fl ickrhttp://www.f l ickr.com/photos/manojd

selv in on Fl ickrhttp://www.f l ickr.com/photos/

selv in/3500590723/

garytamin on stock.xchng http://www.sxc.hu/photo/923841

r ingoc2 on stock.xchng http://www.sxc.hu/photo/558305

barunpatro on stock.xchng http://www.sxc.hu/photo/989670

missbass on stock.xchng http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1140347

lenscap on stock.xchng http://www.sxc.hu/photo/899541

Églant ine on Fl ickrhttp://www.f l ickr.com/photos/eglant ine/1072222174/

Manojd on Fl ickrhttp://www.f l ickr.com/photos/manojd

All images are the sole property of its owners. Click on the links within to explore more work from these talented photographers/designers.

www.dsplaced.com

DESIGNED BY MANOJ DAMODARAN

d s p l a c e d @ g m a i l . c o m

w w w . m a n o j d a m o d a r a n . c o m