Renditions

This One Time

2010-10-26T20:31:00.002+05:30

This one time, on a long haul flight, I end up sitting next to a man probably twice my age, and we don’t talk for the entire flight.

It is only as we start our descent that we exchange a few words. I comment on the book he’s been reading, that I had almost bought it at the airport bookstore. “Good thing you didn’t,” he says, “it was nothing. Just a good way to kill a few hours.”

And then he adds: “But what did I expect? There are really only two original stories in Western literature, and all others are just variations on those two.”

Really?

“Yes, it’s the one about the man who sailed on the Mediterranean for forty years without finding his way home. And then there’s the other one about that nice Jewish boy who gets nailed to a cross.”

Now there’s a conversation I wish would have started earlier.

But by now we have already landed and we deplane and I loose sight of the man at baggage claim.

The smart student (like in 3 Idiots)

2010-02-05T13:48:00.000+05:30

Watching 3 Idiots was a moving experience for me. Rancho represents the ideal student I have tried to be my whole life. I could go on and on about how I related to it at many levels:

Every student knows the horror of the listless question that comes up early in the study of any subject. It is the call to define the subject. What is Biology? How would you define Journalism? What is Political Science? What the blazes is literature? And there are the ancillaries: Is Political Science a science or an art? Is travel literature literature too?

I am willing to bet your way of dealing with them was saner than mine. I crumpled, tongue-tied and lost for words. I watched helplessly as my chance at making a brilliant first impression flew out of the window (these questions usually come up during introductory classes). The teacher’s eyes glaze over and drift to another student (prig) slicing the air above his/her head with a raised arm.

Problem is, not everyone’s brain is as efficient an aggregator as the class prig’s. Some people have a different way of taking to the written word. They don’t process information by gathering as much of it as possible. Instead, they let it all wash over them, and hold on to bits that appear true to them. Their brains are precision instruments, as opposed to the class prig’s blunt weapon of a brain.

This is why definitions are evil. The smart student (me, in this example) is appalled because he doesn’t know the answer. His brain, having found the limiting piece of information of no practical use, has assigned it to the cranial equivalent of the wastebasket. The class prig, on the other hand, a reckless downloader, has the very words of it memorised. In addition, he/she also remembers the number of pages in the textbook, the price of it, who the publisher is, the names of all the people (if any) the book is dedicated to, and just so the package is complete, the names of a few other books by the author.

The sheer mass of the prig’s information base is to be envied. Add to that the ability of almost total and instant recall and the prig becomes a most worthy opponent indeed. The prig takes notes, writing everything down in carefully indexed notebooks. The pages have dates on top and have been worked on with three distinct colours. There are different notebooks for each subject, if not for each textbook.

The smart student has one notebook that has spaceships and superheroes sketched on the last pages (drawn during classes and/or other study hours). He wouldn’t consciously record information if he can help it. He lets his brain sort it all out for him. The elaborate filtering system in his head goes through not just classroom matter, but also conversations (overheard ones included), television, billboards, things happening by the roadside, people’s expressions, gurgling babies, the shape of things, the size of things, crushes, arguments… practically everything. The brain also processes the vast amounts of incoming data by cross-referencing it with future plans and prospects. The learning process is an ever-running program in the smart student’s brain.

It is possible for the prig to get online, look for the information needed for the assignment, download it, and disconnect. The smart student, almost unconsciously, finds himself clicking on seemingly irrelevant links and searching the web for random keywords that have nothing to do with the syllabus. It is his hungering brain, wiping all thought of pending assignments from his memory and letting the learning program override all other considerations (including that of the price of being online).

Teachers like the prig of course. It’s all tangible with the prig. Given answers to given questions. Quantifiable merit. Here… take a few extra merit points for making it all so easy for the teacher. The smart student gives the teacher nothing he/she can see. Teachers remember the smart student as bright but wonder why he doesn’t put the brightness to any use. If he did, he could score high, like the other bright kid (the prig!).

And the world goes on.

To sign or Not to sign

2009-09-28T21:55:00.003+05:30

The recent gathering of the UN Security Council asking all non-NPT states to sign the treaty as a non-nuclear state will once again trigger debates over this dormant issue. In an ideal world, perhaps, there will be no nuclear weapons. But in today’s hostile world in which the nuclear powers refused to dismantle their stockpile,

India

would surely like to keep its option open. Of course, the decision to sign the treaty is more political than scientific. The general public is not aware that what has been tested is a thermonuclear device; to make it into a full-scale weapon is a different process altogether. The use of data from a single thermonuclear test for “weaponization” will be unwise and erroneous. As Richard Garwin points out, “It is possible to build simple nuclear weapons without nuclear explosion tests, but there will always be a nagging doubt whether or how well they will perform” and “without nuclear tests of substantial yield, it is difficult to build compact and light fission weapons”. From the American point-of-view, this is a strong argument to ratify the CTBT, pressuring

India

to follow suit. From the Indian point-of-view, this makes an even stronger case for not signing the treaty.

Top 100 books...

2009-07-31T22:06:00.001+05:30

* Bold the ones you’ve read, or are reading ...
* Blue means I particularly enjoyed it,
* Red means I did not enjoy it)
* Italicize the ones you want to read
* Leave blank the ones that you haven't heard about <be honest>
* ~~Strike~~ the ones you have no desire to read
* If you are reading this, tag, you’re it!

1. The DaVinci Code (Dan Brown)
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
5. The Return of the King (Tolkien)
6. The Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien)
7. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (Tolkien)
8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling)
12. ~~Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)~~
13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling)
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
16. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King)
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Rowling)
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
21 The Hobbit (Tolkien)
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
25. Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. ~~The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)~~
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
28. ~~The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)~~
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
31. Dune (Frank Herbert)
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
34. 1984(Orwell) - desperately
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
42. ~~The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)~~
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
45. The Bible
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy) - yummie!
47. ~~The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)~~
48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens)
53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
54. Great Expectations (Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald) - oh! plz giv it to me.
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
60. The Time Traveller’s Wife (Audrew Niffenegger)
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
63. War and Peace (Tolstoy)
64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Ann Brashares)
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69. ~~Les Miserables (Hugo)~~
70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
71. ~~Bridget Jones’ Diary (Fielding)~~
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez)
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
78. The World According to Garp (John Irving)
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
80. Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White)
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
82. Of Mice and Men (Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
85. ~~Emma (Jane Austen)~~
86. Watership Down (Richard Adams)
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)
92. Lord of the Flies (Golding)
93. The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
95. ~~The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)~~
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
100. Ulysses (James Joyce)

The Eye in the Sky

2009-07-10T02:40:00.003+05:30

Today I saw a man and a woman, apparently lovers, entering a motel. The man signed with an alias, whilst the woman looked around suspiciously. They were both married and hid their wedding rings in their pockets in an attempt to suffocate their importance. They spent the whole of their lunch hour in the motel room, delving into each other's thoughts and fantasies in a dour attempt to relieve the stress that had built up in their respective lives. They exited as suspiciously as they had entered, thinking nobody had spotted them. Still both remained unfulfilled.

Today I saw a man hijacked in his expensive German motorcar. He was travelling in a residential area when, suddenly, a man walked across the road in front of them. The driver forcefully applied his brakes and swerved to avoid colliding with the man. Once stationary, he opened the window and shouted, "You imbecile, do you think you own the road or something..." While this was transpiring, another man came up from behind the car and started screaming at the driver to get out of the car. The driver slowly got out of his car, but his hand suddenly darted towards his side, obviously in search of a weapon. His attacker saw what his intentions were and shot him in the chest at close range. He then picked off the man's gun and sped off in the car. Nobody had seen them, nor did anybody want to.

Today I saw a child learning at school. He was only in his early teens, but displayed a maturity beyond his years. He eagerly listened to the pearls of wisdom his teacher was telling him. He had a thirst for knowledge and decided the only way to quench it would be to work as hard as he possibly could. This is very encouraging to see in a child so young. He has seen what has happened to those who did not take school seriously, his cousins were like that and now one was living alone on the streets and the other suffering from AIDS. He has set his sights on passing matric, going to university and, one day, owning a professional soccer club. Taking into consideration the determination and consideration I witnessed today, I wouldn't put it beyond him.Today I saw the police making a drug bust. They had spent the whole year trying to catch this drug syndicate. Eventually they recieved a tip off from an unknown person and they followed it up. They caught five of the offenders red-handed; these five were visiting the place where the manufacture of narcotics was taking place, just to make sure everything was going smoothly. Crores of rupees worth of drugs were seized, but how much of that reached the station, only the recording officer knows. That deed determined months of hard work being put in by the narcotics bureau- all it took was one man to put all those poisons on the street for children to buy.

Today I saw two people getting married in a church. They were both in their early twenties and probably still studying. The bride walked slowly down the aisle, contemplating her future with her groom. Her father was tentative, not knowing what the future had in store for his only daughter. The groom stood anxiously with the priest and waited. There was no turning back now - this was to be the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. How much everything would change now that they were married; for their sake, I hope they had been true to each other before this, that they did not display facades to shadow their real selves. But both gleamed with joy and love; theirs was going to be a lasting relationship - a scarcity today.

Today I saw a farmer being murdered on his farm. He was an elderly man, probably in his seventies; a widower whose children and grandchildren lived far away. He heard a noise during the night and went outside to investigate, taking his shotgun with him. He saw a figure running through the darkness, but refrained from firing in fear of hurting an innocent party. Another noise came from the cattle barn. He walked as quickly as he could. As he reached the door, he was clubbed from behind. His frail old body could not withstand the blow and he fell pathetically to the floor. The men took his shotgun and raided his house, taking as much as they could.

Today I saw a baby being born. Its mother felt excruciating pain while its father marvelled at the miracle happening before his eyes. He could not come to terms with the fact that it was a product of his devotion to his wife. He also wondered whether this child was going to be the hijacker or the hijacked, the adulterer or the faithful, the bride or the groom, the policeman or the drug-dealer, or the child with the passionate will to succeed .........

The Sweetest Apple

2009-06-09T05:05:00.003+05:30

I stared out the window of the bus and watched the people go about their business. A group of children had gathered around a busted fire hydrant. Two women were arguing for some indecipherable reason. A lone teenager in black rested himself against the side wall of a small store, smoking cigarettes while he listened to his music, probably some dark, heavy beat. And I sat in the bus and watched life happening around me.

I wouldn’t say I was unhappy. I wouldn’t call myself depressed or sad. Maybe disenchanted, maybe disinterested, maybe disillusioned, maybe distant, maybe some other word starting with dis. They’re all the same anyway.

I was out of college and on my own, and should have been proud. Should have been happy. Should have been snatching up any opportunity to pull myself into the fabled real world. Instead I was living a meaningless existence, trying to survive solely on paternal help, living a lonely life. So far only a few places had accepted me, but I was constantly sending in my credentials to whoever would take them, hoping against hope I would actually make it through in these times. Maybe if I was some great intellect from an even greater institution, I could make it. Maybe if I had the right connections in the right places; knew whom to contact and when to contact. But my credentials were nothing special: some twenty-something not unlike myself who had become dissatisfied and wanted meaning in a seemingly meaningless world.

The bus turned the corner and I prepared to get out and make my way back up the stairs to my meaningless life. The entire trip, the bloke sitting next to me had been saying something about the state of whatever in some foreign country. Being so disinterested, I hadn’t said a word. As he approached the front stoop of my building, he finished in a manner typical of strangers.
“But, I guess, that’s what we can expect from that kind of leader,” he concluded, glancing towards me in a questioning way. Not caring to reply, I got out the bus and slowly made my way up the stairs. I didn’t care about much anymore.

I walked up the seven flights of stairs to my floor, and calmly strolled down the hallway. I stopped outside my room, room 753. I knew what I’d find when I opened the door. A messy apartment filled with furniture, books, papers, and stuff, but empty of life. This actually depressed me in a way few things did. It wasn’t me, I thought as I entered the chamber of solitude. I wasn’t this disorganized. I wasn’t this careless. I didn’t have this much stuff. Someone else must have been living my life for the past seven months while I was asleep on a couch somewhere. It couldn’t have been my messy life.

I walked past pile after pile of unsent copies and unread newspapers to reach my stereo, turning it on at full volume. Nobody called me anymore, and nobody really had reason to. I tossed my bag on the bed and walked to the kitchen, ready and eager to fix myself whatever unhealthy miracle of ease I could find in some cupboard or on the stove. I finally settled on a ready-to-eat dinner and set about cooking it. Ten minutes later I was sitting in an uncomfortable chair watching TV while trying to stomach this convenient atrocity.

Television no longer held me the way it used to. When I was younger, I could watch it all day and all night, never once leaving my sofa. That would have been fine with me. But now that I was grown up and on my own, now that I could watch as much as I wanted with nobody to tell me no, it lacked the appeal it had carried. At the moment I was watching the latest in a mindless string of reality shows. Some woman was kissing some man, and somebody somewhere would get a million dollars for this. I thought for a moment that times had changed, that television had changed, that all anyone cared about anymore was sex and money. The more I thought, though, the more I realized, time hadn’t changed anything but me. This may as well have been the sixties, or the golden late eighties and early nineties. It was different people this time around, but the scenarios were all the same. Same old greed driving no-talent hacks like myself to try to make an easy buck in whatever way they could, same old lust causing married men to sleep around with other married men’s wives, same old racial hate making Nazis/Klansmen/Skinheads/whoever attack innocent citizens for nothing more than skin color. The people were different, but that was it. Nothing else had changed.

I walked out to the street feeling rather cynical about the world. If nothing changes, I thought, if people are always this stupid, why do we try? The more I walked, the more I asked myself that same question, and the more I realized that I could never in a thousand years begin to answer it. It was a question asked generation after generation, and I was nothing original, I was simply the most recent person to think about it.

When I walked into the little market off the street, I didn’t know what I would buy. Commercialism was making me angry, so I didn’t want anything name brand. Money was tight, so I didn’t want anything too expensive. The doctor had told me that I shouldn’t eat bread, my mother had told me that I shouldn’t eat preservatives, and my crazy health teacher from the eleventh grade had told me that I shouldn’t eat dairy. I picked up an apple and walked to the counter.

“Is that all?” the girl behind the counter asked. She didn’t ask it as any checkout girl would, though. She seemed genuinely interested. Her eyes looked directly into mine, and I could feel her piercing my soul.

“Uh, yeah,” I managed to mutter, digging for loose change in my pocket.
“That’s thirty-four cents,” she said with a smile. God, she was beautiful. Finding no change in my pocket, I reached for my wallet. I fumbled a bit, not willing to tear my eyes away from her for even a moment to look where I was reaching. I finally got my wallet, and opened it. I handed her a twenty. “That’s a pretty big bill to pay for an apple,” she said. I laughed nervously. “Keep your twenty,” she smiled, “it’s on me.”

I was kind of dazed as I walked out of the store. I couldn’t help but smile as I walked down the street to the park, enjoying the sweetest apple I had ever tasted.

The magic of Slumdog - still strong

2009-03-19T06:02:00.001+05:30

Hey ppl... I am back again with my usual banter about SlumDog Millionaire. I had tried really hard to suppress all my negative feelings, being a realist, that there must be something really 'attractive' about this movie, else why would it win so many Oscars. Then a new development came into my notice just today. Apparently, the all-girl 'groupie' Pussycat Dolls were so inspired by the spiritual connection they shared with the movie and it's score that t hey decided to do an Americanized version of the same. The lyrics are posted at the end...

Also watch the video of the PCD version on YouTube.

The phrase “Jai Ho” means victory. What do you think the Pussycat Dolls could be celebrating in this video? This movie has been the darling of the Western critics and moviegoers alike and labelling it as the feel-good film of the year Danny has marketed it very well. After the Oscar winning spree, Jai Ho has been growing in popularity among the Western audience - why not cash in on the fame? Big movie, big song, big remix.

I still remember the day I first watched this movie before all the hype. I liked it immensely, and really thought about the interesting perspective it ws able to portray. Never did I expect the movie to sweep the Oscars clean. What I termed as a mildly interesting movie turned out to be a big Oscar-churner, with getting 10 nominations and winning 8 of those, also winning a host of other awards and wowing audiences at film festivals the world over! I was so in doubt of our taste in movies that I saw the entire movie all over again!! In vain..

Was this movie so pathbreakingly "amazing" that Pussycat Dolls wanna "JAI HO" instead of their usual "purr n meow" and that people are taking Frieda Pinto so seriously that she may become 007's armband? Becoming a Bond Girl is a legendary honor!! And it goes to an actor with as much experience and charisma as a chimp doing backflips on the Moon?

I quote a PCD fan directly - "I love it! The original is beautiful, but with this English translation, I can finally get the literal meaning of the song." Does the song really portray what the PCD have implied in their video and lyrics. Nay...

Simply put, as a fellow blogger rightly puts it ""Third World Country image dood...it ALWAYS sells.." Guess for me theres nothing more to do about it other than venting it out here and hope that I played my part right.

But you gotta hand it to all those pussy's; they cashed in really well... Jai Ho America.

The Pussycat Dolls - "Jai Ho" (Official FULL Music Video) ft AR Raham - HQ Wide Screen 2009. Watch it at YouTube.

Slumdog or Underdog

2009-01-16T22:03:00.002+05:30

Why is it that the Brits are always at our throats, slitting it every time they feel like it? 300 years of ruling over us didn't quench their thirst, I reckon. Or so it seems by the reception, critical as well as otherwise of the recent Slumdog Millionaire. The movie is portrayed on Jamal Khan from the Dharavi slums in Mumbai (largest slum in Asia) and how the experiences of his mishap ridden and hectic life ultimately help him in winning the most coveted Game Show of the season, acquiring a celebrity status and a whooping sum of Rs. 2 Cr. to boot. The movie is an emotional and utterly brutal portrayal of the everyday trials and tribulations that a poverty ridden individual (man, woman, child) in India has to undergo just to earn a square meal and a square meter of cloth. Based on the novel 'Q and A' by Vikas Swarup, the movie has already won 4 Golden Globe awards.

The movie was publicly denounced by Big B; he argued that the India portrayed in the movie was not the current situation of this great sub-continent and the drastic effect rendered on the minds of the foreign viewers will be devastating to the already precarious image of this Third-World nation (ironically, a phrase invented by Britain just before partition).

The critics have not been generous although in retrospect, they are merely trying to promote the movie in the foreign film industry. One of them calls the film "a modern fairy tale," a "sensory blowout," and "one of the most upbeat stories about living in hell imaginable." The economic conditions in India are not like Kenya or other third-world countries, where everyone is poor. We have middle class people, working hard to earn their bread and that is what makes us different. But it is always the 'poor' India that is shoved under the spotlight.

For Radhakrishnan, "the most glaring was the language. Despite the plausible explanation that Jamal and Salim picked up English, posing as tour guides at the Taj Mahal, it is highly implausible that they would come out of that experience speaking perfect British English, but somehow, in the context of the movie, we buy it. Thing is that if he really was as smart and articulate as Jamal was in the film, he definitely would have been making calls at the call center, not just serving chai." Will someone please go and put up some sense in that guy; you need a minimum qualification of Intermediate to work in a call centre, or is he so biased against this industry taking it's firm roots in India that he doesn't even think before uttering such nonsensical babble.

All in all, even though this movie does not do justice to the other side of the coin, it still is a glaring reminder of the facets of our country totally ignored and taken for granted. Things like poverty, population, corruption are so commonplace that the 'well-to-do' don't spare a second glance towards it. The ideals for which The Mahatma stood have truly fallen away, it's place taken by the RatRace of the Globe.

Who

2009-01-16T21:03:00.001+05:30

I lusted for you,

I wanted you,

I loved you with all that I am.

You turned it away.

In anger I cursed you,

In pain I bled for you.

You turned it away.

I loved you. I needed you.

You turned me away.

But who is the stronger now?

I'm the one you want to be

2009-01-11T17:12:00.001+05:30

Calm but unbroken,
Tame but unbridled
Fettered but free
So you smirk my way
tell me I'm headstrong
and I laugh in your face.
I know the rough parts of me,
the worldly needs in me,
I know how to cross my ankles when I sit.
I know the pains of love
and the scars of hate.
I know ridicule and jest and maliciousness.
I know my limits
I know how to break them.
I know what turns me on, what
keeps me going- I know the ending to my own story-
know the price I pay for this knowledge,
feel the shackles of responsibility...
But I know how to rattle my chains
and still get what I want.
You'll never break me.
You'll never bridle me.
And I'll always be free.
So go on and smirk and think you
know me better-
I know me, the soft and the hard,
the gentle and the strong,
the delicate and steely.
I know me.

I'm the one you want to be.

Dedicated to a patriot...

2008-12-10T17:27:00.003+05:30

The recent bombing activities in Mumbai have left the Indian public feeling nostalgic. A general notion had crept that public places, in recent times, had become unsafe. Shattering this, the terrorists have reinforced that a luxurious place doesn't necessarily mean a safe place. It is of immense embarrassment hat security standards at such elite places are so dismal. Most of us have seen one or the other hi-tech movies using latest technology and were in awe of the latest gadgets used by lawmakers and lawbreakers alike. These viewers will be left in a state of shock if they have a look at the video footage of the so called 'luxury abodes'. The quality of these archives is indiscernible and is worse than a cheap camcorder available in your local market. Surely the annual turnover of such MNC's can accommodate such meager amounts. The phrase 'you learn from your own mistakes' is meant for a human being, not for large scale organizations responsible for other people's lives.

Mumbai, the financial capital of India, is a city in tandem. Every year, nature wreaks havoc on the city in the form of torrential rains. Not so long ago, the city was mostly ruled by little goons aka 'bhai'. Add to this, the general unkempt nature of the city, the relentless pollution and the obvious problem of population, the city never provided a welcoming gesture to the tourists. Yet they came, because India, despite its shortcomings, has the second largest GDP growth rate in the world, as well as being a land of immense beauty and culture. These recent bombing activities have not only served as a warning to the Indian public, but also to the foreign visitors coming for business or pleasure. Think about it, the most luxurious hotels, and the railway station: why were these places chosen for the bombing. It may be to serve as a symbolic gesture for all visiting dignitaries and business man. Mumbai, the city of dreams, has always been considered by the poor as a haven for seeking fortune, which has indeed been a stepping stone to it's success. They are trying a to induce terror in the minds of common men and are achieving success in that too, what with the media amplifying the situation many times by showing the news over and over again. It is indeed a crippling way of looking at the incident, but nevertheless, something that we must be aware of.

Yet, in spite of all the humdrum and the hype created by the media, the public will soon find a way to survive and get on with their life. For that is what we have always done and that is what we’ll always do... Move On.

Personal Observations

2008-12-04T09:03:00.001+05:30

So it goes. I'm trying very hard not to let the shadows over take me. Even if the shadows are in my own mind. They say you're not going insane if you can question your own sanity. I'm not so sure. But I'm trying. Trying very hard. If I'm truly unable to face up to my own past, will I finally be consumed by it? Can I stand up to my own shadows, or will I have to admit defeat and go on the 'happy' drugs of life?

And so it goes. And I'm still trying very hard not to let the shadows overtake me.

Its time for me to stop and take a breath- to look around and see what I can see. Not that I'm going too fast, But I'm too deep, too mired down in the mundane, slowly drowning without even knowing it. I have to take a step back and look at the whole of it- at least that which I can See.

Perhaps I'm so deeply embedded in the little things that I've really become detached from Spirit and so yearn for adventure, for change I know I don't need. I wish I could meld the two, so I could function smoothly between, instead of having to flip back and forth, using energy and resources that are limited to begin with. This is my goal, to achieve fluidity; as I grow and learn I believe it can happen.

Through it all there is this lethargy, a weariness that grows every day, an increasing desire for true silence. I fight myself even as I am resigning myself to the care of Spirit, and it is exhausting me.

I've begun to wonder how much further I can go alone. I wonder if I even want to.

2008-11-26T17:13:00.001+05:30

There's something about a getting up at 5 in the morning that's just bliss. Absolutely wonderful. It's just me and my habit of procrastination that always gets in the way. But even then, Once is good enough.

Nobody's been in anyone else's shoes. We all have our own private pains. Its how we deal with them, integrate them into our shared lives that defines who we are individually. I have this frustrating feeling like everything I write has been written before, like the same perception has been explained by someone else, and so I'm just copying.

There is nothing new under the sun and Gods, only the rendition of how finely I feel it, how precisely, how keenly.

How many variations on the same can there truly be?

Untitled

2008-11-06T19:50:00.000+05:30

What's it like to write, to really write? To start with a single word on a blank, virginal page and add to it? To watch this child, grow and mature, page after page, until at last you look before you and you've borne a work, purely from the bits and pieces in your head. What's it like to look upon this body of work and know that you created it, breathed life into it? And how do you then offer it up for the world to tear apart or elevate to godhood as it chooses?

Once I know the answers to these questions- do I dare to create? Or leave those creations inside of myself where they'll be protected and nurtured and never subject to the persecution and torment and lamentation of existence?

Do I even have time to worry about any of this?

Straw Dogs

2008-10-03T17:46:00.001+05:30

"Heaven and Earth are ruthless, and treat the myriad of creatures as
straw dogs: the sage is ruthless, and treat the myriad of creatures as
straw dogs...Is not the space between Heaven and Earth like a bellows?"

Fish in a larger Pond

2008-10-03T17:24:00.001+05:30

Here's a business analogy I ran across recently. You are a fisherman in a small pond with lots of other fishermen. Everyone is making their bait the best looking, the best tasting, and most appealing to the fish. Some guy is selling "how to's" to make your bait the best. Over in the distance, you see a large pond with very few fishermen. Why is no one over there? The water looks just a good and so are the fish. Why not pick up your pole and fish in a larger, less fished pond instead of trying to change your bait a little in a saturated pond? The best part is, you don't even have to be a good fisherman in the other pond if you're the only fisherman over there.

Moral: Fish in a less saturated market and you don't have to be that good to really bring home the big fish.

Sometimes the answer to catching bigger fish isn't changing your bait or getting a bigger net. In an oversaturated market, you can spend loads of money on marketing and endless hours of frustration only to get a trickle of business, or you can pick up your pole, find your own unsaturated niche or marketing strategy, be the first in that market, and really clean house.

No real Context

2008-09-22T20:29:00.001+05:30

(This was something that popped into my head one night at work. No real context, just.. this. )

It was filled with a wonderous sound that flowed over me and through me until I thought surely I would be swept away by it. It was as though I was going to die and find before me the Elysium Fields. I stood there transfixed, seeing colors bloom behind my closed eyes in time with the music and I knew I would have this played at my passing over. The music faded finally, and slowly I opened my eyes, letting the real world take shape around me once more. I drew in a long, heart felt sigh of peacefulness before setting off.

You are Me

2008-09-14T08:55:00.003+05:30

You're hot,

when I'm cool.

You're bold,

when I'm subtle.

You're brash,

when I'm tactful.

You're rough,

when I'm smooth.

You're uncouth,

when I'm suave.

You are everything I'm not

when I need you to be.

You are all that I am

when I'm not myself.

You are the sun and the moon and the stars

when I am Darkness and Nothing and Void.

You are my worst nemesis,

you are my dearest lover,

my harshest critic,

my tragic seer.

You are me, when I look in

the mirror,

and see my reflection...

from your eyes.

Blank

2008-09-10T08:52:00.003+05:30

A blank sheet of lined paper, like this, is intimidating to me. I feel compelled to write, but when I open the notebook, and the blank page is before me- I clam up. Its like some twisted version of performance anxiety. Time and again this happens and it never fails to leave me frustrated and unfulfilled. As though I'm taking some cosmic test of merit, intelligence, and inevitably I think I'm going to fail.

Untitled

2008-08-20T18:27:00.000+05:30

I swear there's a certain ennui trickling within me. A languid sort of viewing, perception of the world that worries me almost more than the situation from which it originates. When I took a breath, and exhaled, I felt my whole world fall away, forced to look at all the foundations on which I'd built the city of me. What I found was less than solid construction.

So I razed all the old foundations and in record time rebuilt, using all new, indestructible materials. Solid as the oak, but with the power to bend as the willow, and offer shelter to others in the storms. Perhaps its just a fanciful metaphor for saying that I changed my life's values and perceptions in the space of a week. Or maybe I like verbosity. But even that irreverence is part of who I am.

I thought life was hell. It was everything a tear jerking, anger inciting, heart anguishing Lifetime movie of the year should be. I nearly died inside me. And so I thought this world was my hell. For the first time I knew true, paralyzing terror. But then I was allowed to leave the vestiges of the so called sanctuary and travel to a new place for a considerable amount of time. Since that time I have been trying to push the limits of who I am and what I am capable of to the breaking point- and beyond. I've swallowed all my pride and given up every spark of dignity. But by doing so, I broke all my own boundaries and rebuilt all my crumbling foundations - I renovated who I was. Became who I am.

I'm not preaching. Gods know I had enough of that from everyone in my life. I guess what I'm saying is never give up. I know how it can be so tempting to drop your head onto the pillow of eternal sleep. But its not as fun as seeing just how strong you are. It sucks while its happening, but when its all over - it feels almost better than sex, like an everlasting, continuous orgasm. I couldn't begin to tell you what's on the other side of life, but for me - its infinitely more fun to see how far I can go, how much of my own potential I can fulfill.

No matter what though, be true to you. Because its not really worth it if you're not.

The Pursuit of Happyness

2008-08-16T19:45:00.002+05:30

Oh yeah, I have seen that movie! I nearly cried at the end. ~ your thoughts exactly.

I am sorry for being a plagiarist for the title... I couldn't come up with a better name for my latest musings.

Ever since I was a little kid, so I saw in the numerous photo albums of my childhood, I have had the urgency to smile and laugh, like all the time. Even as a one year old, my broad smile and the set of baby white teeth is evident in all of them. The only thing I remember from my childhood was going to see my little sister lying in the incubator, crying the moment she laid her eyes on me.

My very first happy memory.

To make others laugh is the best service one can do in a lifetime. I am an agnostic by faith and an engineer by profession, so best I put it this way: "Every action has an equal and opposite reaction" ~ if you get the gist.

There were times in my schooldays when I used to feel low: I would whip out the keys of my motorcycle and go on a little ride; just to gather my thoughts. As the wind swept my head clear of all anxieties, I felt happy. This is the closest, I thought, that I would ever get to be a Superman.

Though I wouldn't say that music always makes me feel happy, it does elucidate: I can very well snuggle up in the depths of my music, while it is busy carving it's everlasting effects on my brain. In this lifetime, I am sure; I won't be able to live without it.

Spending time with a dear friend of mine, who is now working his life off himself. We sometimes used to be off our rocker, getting to the point that we both skipped a final exam of our graduation, just because we didn't feel like sitting and studying. Even though those days will never come back, brother, the memories will always live on.

And then I found love. Or rather, it found me. This was a new feeling for me, being provided by my better-half. For the first time in my life, I felt happy without asking myself the question - 'whatsinit4me?' I was not making others happy, someone else was doing that to me. I felt elated, overjoyed, on-top-of-the-world and all other adjectives you can think about. To this day, I am in doubt, whether I was ever able to reciprocate the same.

Even though you may say I have many happy memories to live by, if someone asks me to conjure up a Patronus, I would fail miserably at it.

I will eventually find myself in the form of a little girl. I would see my smile and her eyes in a third being, purest of both.

In her, I will find peace and contentment. In her, my Pursuit of Happyness will have a new beginning.

~Void~

2008-07-23T21:27:00.006+05:30

Ever felt lonely standing in the middle of the crowd? Ever felt like you are surrounded but no one is listening... or worse, that no one cares, no one knows who you are, how you feel, how you think? The deep void of loneliness smothers you. I have a large number of teens in mind as I write, who are going through this phase of their lives... looking for attention, affection, love n care; be it Real or Virtual. The longing of being someone 'special', being looked after and pampered arises in everybody's heart, mind and soul. The generation of this era is facing this quite often who join social networking sites to find people. The problem is that now they find themselves lonely not only in their actual world but in their virtual world too.

Void of human contact. Void of interaction...

I've been there. I've been in a place in my life when the yearning for a hug can be so overwhelming that your breath catches.

Real... intimate... something... anything...

It is during this hour when one needs the strength, the strength to face the storm with your feet firm on ground and the strength of character to overcome the tides of passion.

First Impressions

2008-07-16T09:37:00.002+05:30

I remember the day when i first met you,
in a room fulla strangers narrating who's who.
There was something about you, something in the air,
that blotted out everyone's presence there.
What kept me occupied was how to be the best,
to make you see ME among the rest.
Tho' I cudn't see your point of view,
girl, how was i supposed to have a clue.

I just knew what I felt like, sailing on a high tide;
wanted to ask you so bad if you'd come along for the ride.
I didn't want to be a poser, nor a despo too;
I'd only wished that you'd see me for what I really am;
A simple guy, who wants to
Impress YOU.

And the reply to the above was:

"Totally smitten with your actions,
i had no idea what were ur intentions,
what ever it was, was totally awesome,
Forever last these First Impressions...."

The Power of Hair

2008-06-20T21:03:00.006+05:30

"Fellow compatriots, from the hallowed circles of the underground, we have gathered to give birth to a new iconoclasm. Our goal is single-minded: we will seek to put to the sword those who are misled to disregard the fundamental principles of Hair Power. But, before we set about our quest, we must understand the dynamic implication of those sprouting bulbs of fibrous protein that wave, one hundred thousand strong(or less, in some case) upon our heads. Contrary to popular thought, they are not there to make us appear attractive, but are indications both of the moral state and scientific exploration of our society.

History is littered with differing social conformities. In the earlier days, freedom was the new ‘IN’ - and so of course hair paid a telling contribution to this new looks for freedom. If you remember your father or maybe your forefathers, with their long manes and thick sideburns, this kind of rebellion is still celebrated.

We know that the mushroom craze descended upon our youth a few years ago. A massive chunk of hair was ceremoniously removed from the sides and backs of their scalps, to leave a thriving growth of swirling tresses on their crowns. We may also notice a steady pattern of hair groomers at school level. On the one hand, we have our stock and muscular individuals, who have opted for the crew-cut style: short back and sides. Tough and Ready. On the other side of affairs, we have those believed to be a bit more metro sexual (unmanly) and have carefully cultivated their protein extensions to abnormal lengths.

But even though luscious, silky smooth hair abounds in the prime of youth, the time comes in males when they become victims to testosterone. This fiery hormone combines with chemicals, causing admired curls to thin out and result in baldness. The key role of male hormones has been grasped through history. Eunuchs, it was noted by Aristotle and Hippocrates did not lose their hair. In fact, castration is still recommended by the leaders of our auspicious movement as the most effective, if rather unappealing, method of preventing baldness.

Consequently, over the centuries, men desiring to retain both their gonads and their hair, have tried every imaginable treatment. They have shampooed their scalps with tar, petroleum, goose droppings and cow urine. But they eventually understood the principles of science, as we do now, and realized their efforts were futile. Tar, after all, causes the existing hair to decay into a lump of hard, black rock, while urine, being acidic in nature, causes the protruding hair to shrivel up with its pungent smell. So our scientists advanced and stuck their heads into rubber caps connected to massive vacuum pumps to suck recalcitrant hairs to the surface. The
problem with this rather adventurous method was that it resulted in those hairs locked deep under the scalp being removed completely.
The final prognosis, as one chap glumly concluded, is that "some are born bald, some achieve baldness, while others have baldness thrust upon them". So great leaders - Mahatma Gandhi, Julius Caesar, Nelson Mandela - had to resign their hairlessness to fate. This doesn't necessarily mean that those without hair are those with a sense of patriotism. However, moving on.

The power of hair cannot be underestimated. It has en wrapped its meandering locks through religion, politics, schools and families. That is why this article has been procured selflessly, with a thought to unite and form a dominant force. The time has arisen and now all those who follow Hair Power must take the initiative and promote the truth to those with misconception.

Viva, Hair Power, Viva!

Man's Best Friend: An ode to M...

2008-06-12T19:28:00.005+05:30

I want to be your best friend -

Don't treat me with such hate
Don't allow cruelty to be my fate

My legs are strong
My tail ready to wag
Talk to me - I can hear you,
I will serve you with my life.

Her Eyes

2008-05-12T19:51:00.005+05:30

It was those eyes that made that connection, even from across the packed room. They talked. They told me what she wanted. When I asked her if I could buy her a drink, her words may have lacked enthusiasm, but here eyes told a different story.
The second time I met those eyes, over a pizza, they took my breath away. The longer we talked, the more they seemed to sparkle, and the more I made her laugh, the warmer they seemed. Her eyes emitted a radiant light and yet glowed a serene beauty - all the time giving the impression that, if you looked hard enough, you could look straight through them and right into the mind of the majestic person that controlled them.
The first time we became one, her eyes never left mine - they swept past all the walls and barriers and dug into my mind, they churned up emotions that I never thought possible. I was emotionally drained and I slipped into a satisfied sleep, her eyes being the last and the first things I saw.
The celebration of matrimony was inevitable, but the question still had to be asked. As I slipped the thin gold band with a single stone onto her slender finger, I began to shake - so much at stake, I thought. The answer came, but it was too far way to be heard, so I raised my head and searched for the answer. A tear made it's way down her cheek, and all the joy and happiness in the world flowed out.
How could there be evil in the world, when those eyes looked upon it; how could any man or beast do wrong after staring into the eyes of my loved one? I do not know, but it happened.
On the day of the Awful Horror, her eyes were used as knives which tore my heart in two. While words flowed out of her mouth with the ferocity of a raging torrent, her eyes betrayed her anger and displayed her wounded emotions. While obscenities were hurled at me, her eyes did their own damage - "WHY?" they asked.
More remorse was triggered by those eyes than any form of punishment imaginable. While I stood at the top of the highest point during the storms, not caring if I slipped, got blown over, or was overcome by the menacing clouds, her eyes turned into forgiveness and granted mercy from those empty stares.
The nine months were the happiest of my life. We visited the country regularly and did everything with each other. Her eyes hinted naughtiness as we stripped down and skinny-dipped together, unashamed of the new life growing in her womb; they showed compassion for an injured animal; they portrayed innocence at the violent crimes of modern society, they radiated her love solely for me.
When the water broke, excitement shone forth, which was soon overshadowed by a cloud of doubt. Her voice was numbed by the anesthetist's needle, but her eyes pleaded with me. I was guided by the surly nurse and my fate lay lingering on another man's announcement.
I was too shaken up to listen properly - I picked out key words: "complications during birth"... "regret"..."wife didn't make it"...
The final words echoed through my head, and the walls of the hospital came crashing down as the realization hit me. "What about the baby?" I heard myself say.
My emotions were torn as I made my way towards the incubator. Could I ever forgive this stranger for taking my loved one's soul, let alone love it as my child.
As I stood in the doorway, tears streaming down my face, my answer arrived. Everything would eventually come right.

She had her mother's eyes.

FRIEND

2008-03-04T00:27:00.005+05:30

Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,

Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.
And I never see my old friends face,
For life is a swift and a terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell.
And he rang mine if, we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.
"Tomorrow" I say! "I will call on Jim"
"Just to show that I'm thinking of him."
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows.
Around the corner! yet miles away,
"Here's a telegram sir" "Jim died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.

What do girls want?

2007-11-03T02:22:00.001+05:30

What do girls want? What can men do to woo women?
Men have always wondered if the ‘axe effect' actually exists or how important ‘close-up' confidence is. Do girls fall for that six-footer, blue-eyed man with Greek God looks or will the short, dark and not-so-handsome man do? Do girls really want their guy to come astride a white horse and take them to the other end of the moon?
Let's try to find answers to these questions.

I admired a girl I'd once seen walking down the street. She was naive, traditional and always alone. I figured that other guys in my college too were fond of her. My seniors were also trying to woo her but in vain. She lived just opposite the boy's hostel. She often received comments and barbs from the hostel guys. They boys tried it all. Some would roam around in body-hugging T-shirts, some doused themselves with foreign deo's, others cruised around on bikes making that noisy vroom just below her balcony. Yet others would light up their cigarettes, only to impress her.
I would often wonder why they were doing what they were doing. Can't these fools understand that they were making their chances of scoring with her bleak? Years passed but nothing changed. She remained alone for as long as I can remember. We left college and we moved on.

Recently I joined a social networking site and thought of looking her up on it.
I prepared myself for her ‘married' status. She must be married by now, I thought. I looked for her frantically and voila, there she was. It was the correct profile. Her picture confirmed it. And I was right about her marital status: she was married. But as I checked out her other pictures in her album, I realised that she was married to a guy who was our senior in college. He was one of those guys who would strut around in front of her, smoking a cigarette. I was flabbergasted. "Dream man" He had a paunch now. How could she have married him? That was the first thought which came to my mind. He wasn't the sixfooter and blue-eyed man that every girl's dreams are made of. He wasn't even athletic or someone with a huge bank balance.

The eternal question - what girls want, still continues to remain a mystery to me.It has bothered me for a long time. How can a shy, traditional girl who always ignored guys, opt for love marriage? She must have been a real hypocrite, I thought. Now I'm forced to think again. Who's the real fool - those guys or me? And again I'm back to where I started.. are all girls like that?

HEART OF THE MATTER - That special place in my heart

2007-10-27T00:28:00.001+05:30

Recently I saw a movie on television that continuously stressed the line - a girl and a boy can never be best friends. The line seemed irrelevant to me because my best friend, Nupur, was a girl. This thought stayed with me. I discussed it with a colleague. I still remember my first day in college. As I entered the classroom, I saw a girl sitting with a group of boys on the last bench. That was Nupur. My first impression of her was, that she's a bit of a tomboy . We hit it off instantly and became best friends. She had a friendly nature, was very outspoken and slightly mischievous like me. We would spend a lot of time together. We roamed around the college campus, hung out in the canteen and sometimes, even attended lectures. Great bonding. We bonded well because our way of thinking was quite similar. We became a popular twosome in college. I did not treat her like a girl, ever. She was a boy with whom I could share everything..... she too shared a lot with me. She listened to my thoughts, views and philosophies on life.. she understood what I was saying. She was never judgmental. Nor did she ever leave me alone if I behaved in a strange manner. She would also help and guide me whenever I was feeling down and out. No matter whatever anyone else said about me, she would never give up on our friendship.
The only time she was unable to spend time with me was when she was with Ajay. He was her boyfriend. Nupur had met him before I came into her life. He worked in a private firm. His busy schedule did not permit then to spend too much time with each other. Nupur was very serious about her relationship and wanted to marry him after she finished her studies. I supported her decision. While she was happily in love, I had a string of unsuccessful relationships. Nupur was going strong with Ajay. Soon we graduated. A year after that, Nupur and Ajay got married . I was really happy for her. My love Nupur and Ajay moved to another city ; I was busy with my job. We talked to each other quite often over the phone. We always picked up from where we had left off. Our conversations were as comforting as they had been during our college days. Even now, we are the best of friends.
As I completed my story Vikas glared at me and said, "Now I know why you never had a girlfriend." "Why?" I shot back. "It's because that special place in your heart was occupied by someone else.. you never allowed anyone into it."
That day it hit me that the line in that film was true. A boy and a girl can really never be just good friends. At least, it's true for me. I had always been in love with Nupur.. without even realising it.

Is placement a very big deal??

2007-07-02T20:06:00.002+05:30

Is securing a placement while ur still doing ur graduation a very big thing...????? I mean of course its a big deal for a short time...u feel elated and on top of the world...and if u have really put in some efforts into it...then of course u will feel quite good about it...???But making it a very pompous affair is another thing....i mean ppl use orkut to flaunt it...don't they have any sentiments about those who have not been placed anywhere....this ain't a matter of how intelligent u r.?&; some ppl get lucky and some ppl force themselves to be lucky.....if u know wht i mean...think on tht??

Choices, choices. Decisions, decisions.

2007-07-01T00:16:00.000+05:30

Love me or hate me. To be or not to be. Choices. Decisions. We all make them. We may not realize we make them....but we all do. All of us.

We all have the power to choose. The power to decide what we want to do. Think of your life as if it were a never ending highway of joy, anger, hatred, passion and sorrow. A highway of life and decisions – decisions which distinguish good from bad, allies from enemies, friend from foe. In some stage in life, we come to intersections, not knowing which way to turn. This is where decisions are so important in life. If we take the wrong turn, we will often find ourselves coming to a screeching halt at a dead end. We must realize that decisions are not just about doing the right thing. It all depends on your situation at that particular time in your life.

The issue of choices relates to us in abundance of ways. At the present stage of my life, I am faced with the choices of which friends to choose, decisions dealing with peer-pressure and I am forced to determine the difference between good and bad.

Choices, choices. Decisions, decisions.
The race is not won by the swiftest, but those who choose to keep running!

POPT2T

2007-07-01T00:03:00.000+05:30

I have finished yet another game:Prince of Persia The Two Thrones.....awesome game and a good competent over the previous game...warrior within....!!!

A near end...

2007-05-18T00:10:00.000+05:30

Its weird rite...how things ....and i mean good things...happen to you when ur about to leave something...u meet new ppl... u make frnds with them.... u listen to them and spend time with them and think... '????why didn't I see them b4????' and then u realize tht u cant do anything anymore except cherish those moments and hope they remember u in a good way....

Nfs Most Wanted

2007-05-05T12:35:00.000+05:30

I have officially finished this game.....all the cars and Specially Josie Maron was totally awesome.....

reunion

2007-05-05T12:31:00.001+05:30

Hey it feels good to be back.....i have changed the name of my blog also.....uc nowdays net connection which is always on is required.....else u cant maintain a blog......now im back----->lets get rolling.

2006-09-01T17:24:00.000+05:30

My favourite game on PC and PS2: " Prince of Persia" Its basically a trilogy
1) The Sands of Time
2) Warrior Within
3) The Two Thrones

Check out the quote.

Avril!!!

2006-09-01T17:17:00.000+05:30

Avril Lavigne!! The ultimate rock-alternative singer there will be. I know many of u must have heard her song: "Complicated". If u havent then ur off ur rocker man. Go and listen to it first and then come back and leave a comment on how u like it...... for those who have already heard it before plz lemme know about it coz u will find tht I am her biggest fan on this side of the planet.

KGRL: the ultimate radio station

2006-07-18T21:57:00.000+05:30

Hey guys check this station out it really is cool plays all the songs of girl singers randomly, after hearing this station i realised i am just a bud in the world of music, most of the songs i hadn't even heard before...try it out its free..
hell no iam not gettin paid for this ad..

If God...

2006-07-13T16:17:00.000+05:30

If God...

If God created the universe
And all the things in it,
God also created good and beautiful
And smooth and silky.
If God created the universe
And all the things in it,
God also creatde evil and ugly
And rough and coarse.
If God's aims are good and pure,
Why did God create evil?
To give us choice?Life?
If God's aims ar evil and tainted,
Why did God create good?
To give us choice?Life?
I choose to follow God
As only He offers eternal life.
Kill me now!Remove my choice.

Starter

2006-06-16T00:00:00.000+05:30

Well guys heres my first article its not much(tht doesnt means u shudnt appreciate it) but i would love it if u wud post a reply sharing ur comments as i get more of the good comments i will be posting new stuff so plz plz do so?

****************************************************************
A Reflection on Life

To me, life is like a river. It begins as a small stream and builds into a steady flow. Along the way, the river encounters several pebbles. These are the problems of life. There is always a way around these pebbles; similarly, there will always be a route out of our predicaments. Throughout my life, I have turned to God for his help. At times i seem to forget about thanking him for all that I have. I do not realize that life is made better by the beauitful birds and the trees, and that we must enjoy life to the full.
Along the journey to the sea, the river licks the roots of many trees and meets the shores of many lands. This represents the many experiences and influences to which we are exposed. These experiences can shape or destroy us. I believe that, in addition to being influenced by our envronment, we in turn can motivate our surroundings. By positively influencing the world around us, we are controlling the flow of the river.
As the river gains momentum, the river gradually reaches the end of its journey. The river divides into many small streams, as we are once again vulnerable to the problems of outside world.
The journey is over.Or has it just begin?
****************************************************************************I

Intro

2006-06-15T23:48:00.001+05:30

This blog of mine will contain articles(frm newhere) and stuff(including stories and poems) written by me and me only. The only drawback is that I will to type it(sigh...).
Thanks for your time.