tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28108204193172899052024-03-08T11:08:41.442+05:30Soliloquy of a foolAll of us has something to say...we all like to tell stories...but in this fast paced world there is a dire dearth of a good listener...I am here searching for one and also for proving my mettle in that hard task named listening[and reading]!Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-15289808562549340412011-06-20T22:03:00.007+05:302011-06-21T07:52:10.065+05:30There and Back Again!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Yesterday I walked for a long time. I had decided to go to some unheard station in the the morning but there's no local train from bangalore city station on Sundays. So, I did a station strolling and while coming out got caught by the RPF and couldn't even show them the platform ticket cause I din't have one. They asked me to pay a fine of Rs300. I had the money with me but I told them I didn't. They tried to make me feel scared for 5 minutes and then gave up hope and just let me go. I loved walking on the footbridge while I was there in the station. The footbridge on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ramrajatala">Ramrajatala</a> station was my favourite destination as a kid. Probably it was one of the tallest structures of the town and I often used to nag my dad to take me there. Yesterday was father's day: I am not comfortable talking to my dad over phone. But I wanted to be near him , feel close to him. So, I went to a place where I can see the trains. Not just because he is a railway employee but all my interactions with him were somehow closely related to trains or railway stations. And I've a weird habit of associating things with people and people with things : somehow the differences get blurred to me.<br />
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I was feeling restless again in the evening. I had recently shifted to this PG and had no room-mate until yesterday. She came after I came back from station. She came with a red heart shaped pillow. Well, in true sense it wasn't of the shape of a real 'heart' ; after-all, different creatures have different shaped hearts and none of them are barely similar to the <a href="http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://www.trying-to-conceive.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/heart.gif&imgrefurl=http://www.trying-to-conceive.com/news/pcos-in-connection-with-heart-disease-in-young-women/&usg=__81z4qqxpcaV35ltq4YmkT-OXxok=&h=679&w=714&sz=5&hl=en&start=1&sig2=lnGWc2Pco8eYTlmqQtoROA&zoom=1&tbnid=6RIANlR9Hayh9M:&tbnh=133&tbnw=140&ei=ef7_TYSgIML5rAeMk42XDQ&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dheart%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26biw%3D1024%26bih%3D499%26tbm%3Disch&um=1&itbs=1">1st result</a> you get when you do a google image search of the word 'heart'; but this pillow was the shape of a heart designed by greetings card companies. But this fake heart disturbed me a lot. All those things I was determined not to think about started nibbling my brain and I went out and started walking, I knew where I wanted to go and I also knew I was not supposed to go there. But I wanted to make the journey nevertheless. After all, it's often the journey and not the destination that matters. It was a beautiful evening and though there was incessant traffic through the road, the footpath was empty. I knew what my destination was. I just wanted to see the bridge which connects Embassy Golf Links Road with Indiranagar. The bridge to Indiranagar was more than just a bridge, it was a representation of a lot of other things. And then I got a phone call. Iris Murdoch one said (I am not sure about Dame Murdoch , but at least Kate Winslet said that while enacting her) :<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><i>'as you start to define such and such a feeling, language lets you down. It's really a machine for making falsehoods. When we really speak the truth, words are insufficient.'</i></div>I always believed in those words even before I heard them. And that's what happened. Language once again let me down : let us down & I started taking the 3.5 km long walk back to my new place of residence.<br />
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I walked for a long time today as well. Somehow I've not yet suffered from Monday morning blues in this new job of mine but I sure did suffer from Monday evening blues today. In the evening when the work was over and it was time for me to go back home I suddenly realized I was all alone in a city with no close friend and with no place to call my home (my PG was yet to earn that status). So I walked past my PG and wandered through the lonely lanes and by-lanes of Koramangla 4th block all these while surreptitiously waiting for a phone call which never came and soon realized that I was lost. But then I saw the Natural's Ice Cream shop as I did on 21st December 2010 after losing my way, only then I had this foolish notion that I wasn't alone even though I actually was. I never need any excuse to have ice-cream but today I honestly needed some and I had two scoops of two different flavors : jackfruit and papaya-pinanple. There was a Barista lavaza down the road : again a flash of memories... or the lack of it : even in the memory I was disturbed and was walking alone. What had changed in 6 months? Nothing and everything. Would I ever want to erase the time in between if I had the scope? No. Because somewhere between these very similar two scenes there were two lifetimes' worth of experiences : good, bad & ugly , though not in the same proportions. And the best part was I learnt a lot of things, most important of them all is that I've learnt nothing at all.<br />
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I was exhausted after 2 hours of walking post a (not so) hectic day at office and then I saw the road home: after-all, home is where your heart is and my heart is still with me, no matter how much wounded or bruised it might be!</div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-14326171902458717592011-06-10T12:33:00.011+05:302011-06-10T13:12:38.424+05:30SFFT<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"></span></span><br />
Staple foods are foods that are <i>'eaten regularly and in such quantities as to constitute the dominant part of the diet and supply a major proportion of energy and nutrient needs.'</i> But we all know them and have our own set of staple foods based on our geographical location,climate, culture, season, personal preferences and bank balance.<br />
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Sudden drastic change in one's staple food can make one suffer from various gastrointestinal issues or at least some level of mental discomfort. <br />
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However, there is another kind of staple food which, in-spite of being no less important than its dietary equivalent, is often neglected. These are the staple foods for thought.We're all aware of the famous Rene Descartes axiom : 'I think therefore I exist'. Thus a drastic variation in staple food for thought can jeopardize our entire existence.<br />
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What are staple food for thought? Traditionally for my (male) predecessors it used to be the morning news-paper, customary fortnightly visit to the local library and most importantly, 'adda' with the countryfolk on various topics ranging from politics to philanthropy over fuming cups of chai.Post the omnipresence of television, the 7 o clock news took its share in SFFT for middle class bong men. Women, especially the housewives had their own set of SFFT : the afternoon movie on Sunday, the FM, 'sentimental' ( courtesy V. S. Naipaul) novels written by female (and sometimes, male) authors and most importantly, their day to day household chores. For me, it was mostly movies. By being a 'classic' membership card holder in British Council Library, I had the privilege of borrowing 2 DVDs each day and thus on an average I'd watch 10 movies per week. <br />
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But, has globalization and internet changed our SFFT? A quick primary research (ie a quick chat with all my g-talk contacts) shows that the most common SFFT for internet savvy modern urban youth is discussions on social media: Twitter , Facebook. Television has been replaced by youtube. Flow of information all around us should have made it easier for us to access to newer SFFT. However, the most important aspect of a staple food is that it is supposed to be consistent and it should provide proper nourishment not just momentary freedom from intellectual hunger. However, in this era of IPV6, all we get as SFFT are fast food. It's dangerous to survive entirely on fastfood eve for a short period of time. Long exposure to fast food or making it the SFFT can result into the intellectual obesity of an entire generation , culture or nation. Maybe it's time we search for some sustainable and healthy SFFT!</div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-85937690255452462892011-05-25T21:10:00.004+05:302011-06-10T13:10:41.876+05:30Hard Times<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What's the connection between the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uasya8yiiSE">new commercial</a> of shiksha.com and Rebecca Black? While the first one portrays herd mentality in the commercial, second one rose to fame because of herd mentality.Confused? consider this IM convesation:</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">X: I hate Rebecca Black.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Y: Me toooooo... Btw, Rebecca who?</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The undertone is when everybody is hating something, even if I've no idea what is it, why shouldn't I hate it too? Nothing substantial happened in the e-sphere on the week following the release of 'Friday' on youtube. Only when <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/michaeljnelson">Michael J. Nelson</a> tweeted 'Friday' as the worst video ever made, the phenomenon of disliking this video started. No matter how much you love to hate this video, most of you have watched this more than once and the 'success' of this video is probably one of the best examples of viral marketing.Now, time to go back to books(or even google would do!). I've already mentioned three key words of this black (and no! none of them is Rebecca) and let's spend some time pondering upon their definitions.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b style="text-decoration: underline;">Viral Marketing</b>: Marketing phenomenon that facilitates and encourages people to pass along a marketing message : In Rebecca's case you did that. You showed the video to your friends, you mailed and tweeted the video link and put it as your status message. And apart from all these , you also spent some of your precious time on earth making parody of this song and/or listening to the parodies made by others.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b style="text-decoration: underline;">Trend</b>: A general direction in which something is developing or changing. A vanity video made my a 13 year old girl became the most watched video in youtube. The girl is a child celebrity and she's 'trending' on twitter. But is this trend but a fad? Well, probably it is but it completely altered the lifestyle, career and bank balance of a lot of stakeholders: Rebecca, her family, all the most viewed parody makers, youtube or even i-tunes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><u><b>Herd Mentality</b></u>: Herd mentality describes how people are influenced by their peers to adopt certain behaviors, follow trends, and/or purchase items : We did all of it: we disliked the video even though we've seen worse videos than this one and didn't bother to dislike them, we kept track of the new parodies on Friday and we even bought them on i-tune.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, can we say that it's our herd mentality that promoted the viral marketing of this video which in turn, made it a trend? 'Friday' is no doubt hilarious and outright stupid to say the least and it's auto tuned. But is it worthy of the title 'worst video ever' ? Or are we committing a type One error here by rejecting her side of the story straightaway? Even I laughed over Friday and enjoyed the parodies more than the video so, I am not trying to defend or eulogize Rebecca Black. But while listening to these Black-parodies , somehow I remembered '<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/12_Angry_Men_(1957_film)">12 angry men</a>': the immortal 1957 film staring Henry Fonda. People like Jury#8 were always minority in this world: few people have the rare courage of voicing out their true opinions, unless they are super-achievers in some field ( and even then, they probably try and maintain savoir faire). But, is internet shoving these people towards the blink of extinction? Forget about voicing out our opinion. In this era of all pervasiveness of media, do we even have 'our' opinion ? <o:p></o:p></span>While technology has provided us with numerous ways of making ourselves heard, it has also induced us to forget to think. Thus what we express and how we behave mostly depend on what we heard in the numerous herds around us! </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The irony of the shisha.com ad is while no-matter how much it tries to appear to be anti-herd mentality, this same trait can actually be a breadwinner for them if the student community follows this trait while logging into this website! </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-49238929381384076542011-05-24T20:31:00.001+05:302011-05-26T11:37:10.173+05:30Thanks for the Memories!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PNKGPc16O6s/TdvIN9oPInI/AAAAAAAAAvU/wuvUwyIBAAY/s320/DSC00029.JPG" width="301" /></div><br />
</div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-58718393959119268922011-04-13T12:45:00.006+05:302011-04-20T14:45:20.280+05:30Wee Student Warranty Scheme (WS^2) : A Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><b><u>Disclaimer </u></b>: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i><u>This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, </u></i></b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b><i><u>or organizations; </u></i></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i><u>living or dead, in business or bankrupt , is entirely coincidental</u></i></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; font-style: italic;">.</span></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">How many layers of baggage does an individual carry with herself? John<br />
Donne's famous 'No man is an island' becomes even more relevant if you belong to the institution where I had the (mis)fortune to do my MBA from. Here, a (wo)man is definitely NOT an island. She is not even an archipelago or even a nation , a continent, the world , the solar system. And blimey , she is not even the Milky Way. So, what is she? She is the universe itself , integrated in every matter , dark matter and dark energy. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I know , what you'd ask next. 'Dude , cut the crap and tell us the real story.'</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Well , there's a Prelude to the story and that's probably even bigger than the story itself .</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Let's begin ...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">I used be a normal person once upon a time with normal dreams which were implanted in my brains in times when the only Christopher around was kept safely inside the flaps of our history text book. All those dreams used to hover around the word '</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-size: x-large;">M</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">oney' and my folks back there at home knew only one route to direct me to that ultimate Moksha.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">10th --> 12th --> Graduation --> MBA --> <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-size: x-large;">M</span></b></span><br />
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<div style="line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Though i didn't do anything exceptionally well in academics , I more or less followed this path and even completed MBA from Wee Willie Winkie School of Management aka We and landed myself with an internship with Houyhnhnm<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">s Inc. </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Generally , every fairy tale ends with the princess being betrothed to the Mr Right. Thus a modern day fairy tale should end with the princess being employed to the dream Job , taking an one-sided vow to fulfill her duties in sickness and in health , in recession and in economic boom , in joy as well as in clinical depression till attrition do them part !</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">But my story starts after the end. When the friends and relatives were done with bestowing their blessings , when the induction honeymoon period was over , </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">when initial awe over the amazing infrastructure was subdued , I suddenly found myself myself alone in my workspace with a plethora of mails flooding my outlook express. I was finally , officially a salary drawer. The entire office awaited like a virgin to be touched for the very first time by my footmarks . And then I opened my mails ! </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Well, what was told that I'd have to do during interviews had obviously no relation what so ever with what I actually was supposed to do. Basically my worked required doing things that any computer literate teen ager will be able to do. But then that's something which is inevitable in a job scenario. </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The actual problem started with my intention of looking for rationale behind doing menial tasks that were given to me. One suggestion if you want to prosper in a work environment STOP USING YOUR BRIAN. The organ that you'd need to use extensively in a job is your tongue and even if you're a vegetarian and have never tested any animal-food before , be prepared to lick a lot of lather 'cause till today this is the only material that is used so extensively in footwear.And if you're from an Institute like </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 20px;">Wee Willie Winkie School of Management, you must be prepared to see people will less educational qualification or intelligent quotient than you walking away with the <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">M</span> </span></b>when all you'll get is just horse's fart. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Anyway my lack of skill in both of these activities soon created a breach between me and my centaur (You'd probably have a mentor but this is </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">Houyhnhnm</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">s for God's sake!). And then the unthinkable happened . I discovered that </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">Wee Willie Winkie School of Management actually offers Student Warranty Scheme. There's a 24 hour helpline to reach out to the centaurs if any student-employee malfunctions in the organization. If there's any trace of over activity in the grey cells of any student-employee , there's a provision in which the centaurs can reach out to </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">Wee Willie Winkie School of Management and the institution will sing lullaby to the students to make their rebel grey cells fall asleep again. The student employee is also emphasized upon the point that an organization is like the land of the in-laws the kind you'd often find in an arranged marriage , the faithful wife aka the student employee should fulfill all the needs of her in-laws and if at all a divorce becomes inevitable , that should be discussed between the in-laws and her parents (</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">Houyhnhnm<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">s and </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">Wee Willie Winkie School of Management respectively, in this case) and the wife herself will have no say in that matter even if the legal marriage certificate (offer letter) states otherwise. And also the student employee should also think of her actual parents and the trauma it'll cause to them if the embellished story of her non-performance reaches them. And what implication will it pose to her co-students , friends, well-wishers , her countrymen , the war worn middle east . the megalomaniac Uncle Sam, the dwarf planet Pluto , the milky way and the universe ? After all an employee student is not just a person , there are so many stake-holders related to her! </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">'What about the husband (Job)' , you might ask , 'Isn't </span><i style="line-height: 20px;">HE </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">the principal stakeholder</span><i style="line-height: 20px;">?'</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"> . Well, in my case , he is the most irrelevant character of the entire story . So, that's how the WS^2 works, the three principal stakeholders being :1.(The employee student +The entire universe - The job),2. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">Houyhnhnm<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">s 3.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">Wee Willie Winkie School of Management.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ingenious , isn't it? I am yet to find out the other provisions under this scheme but what an incredible combination of ancient Indian family system and modern Customer Relationship Management !</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">I urge every Management Institution and Organizations to enter into such a Memorandum of Understanding . And what about the student employee ? When was she ever relevant anyway !!! </span></span></span></div></div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-89257530863855320782011-04-05T11:59:00.009+05:302011-04-20T14:44:44.019+05:30@ PGDM E-Biz 09-11, WeSchool Bangalore<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I've a rather bad reputation for not being inclined to 'Hindi Songs'. But today , for the past one and a half hours, I am listening to a song by KK. It's called 'Yaaron Dosti'. It all started when, after ages, I logged on to my FB and started going through my old pics @ WeSchool. It's been almost two years since I met you guys on 13th July 2009. These two years passed by as quickly as two hours and they left memories worth two lifetimes (And memories are all that we have cause I dont think WeSchool offered us anything amazing when it comes to professional value addition !).</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Emotional humidity evoked by memories has some very weird principles. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;">#1 : People can never truly understand it unless they were part of those memories at some point in their lives. I never understood what this hullabaloo over hostel life was all about </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;">until</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;"> I came to Woodstock. </span></div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">#2: It makes us do irrational things like crying like a child or writing poems . </div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">#3: It makes us think that we can do the impossible. That's exactly what it is doing to me right now by provoking me to write this. This blog is just a vain endeavor to articulate some of the memories that are flashing against the giant screen of my memory.</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><u>2009-2010</u></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;">It was one fateful Sunday afternoon in July when I came to that cockroach infested , toilet stenched D312 of Woodstock Ambience Pvt Ltd. Don't get me wrong. I loved that room. Probably even more than my current room , ie D206. That room was my first 'home away from home'. I'll never be able to forget it. Anyway, I wasn't carrying a blazer that and so I had to meet the G-Sec. Somehow, when I heard the name Andrea D'Costa , I was expecting to see a delicate , svelte girl and no wonder I mistook Tuesy B as the G-Sec when I entered Andrea and Gauri's room(These two were my 'room neighbors' BTW!)</span></div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Ravi was the first person who introduced himself to me when Professor Dr. Salunkhe gave us the clear instruction or rather command to call him 'Professor Dr.' Salunkhe !</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">We were given only half an hour to get ready for our fresher's party in Solitaire. I will never forget the weird dance steps of Captain Kanade unless I get affected by Alzheimer. It was on this day that Tuesy and a few of us discovered that Purvi was Mrs Purvi ! </div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Remember HR class, Mis Savitha and the weird groups . Remember the Elephants' team comprising of Andrea and Handa among others ? Remember Kaun Banega Crorpati where Big B's son was hosting the show and Jamil and not Jamal was the winner? Remember the six feet guy who climbed up the chairs to make Savita remeber his name? Remember the Skits? I still can feel the cold winds when I think of the skit practice sessions at poolside. </div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">It was made mandatory for us to obtain the messy food of basement mess. This is where we met Vishi and formed the Prameya team with Rashi , Glin , Amna and Priya B. And there was a huge controvery over Ritesh's poem on boys and especially girls of PGDM E-biz!</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Remember the initial crushes ? Remember the lovestruck gals and boys? Remember the friends who thought their friendship will last forever but who were wrong?</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">And then there were a few new faces who joined us. Dolly , Sarang , Dhrumin , Swamy sisters, Anshu , Sakshi. Both of the later two were supposed to be my roommate, but they ended up becoming each others roommate while I got a few more days to enjoy my newfound solitude.</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Independence day celebration was the first occasion where we successfully did something together. @ Ravi and Aditya : Remember the practice sessions of 'Assam se Gujrat tak?'</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Then came our juniors . The PGDM 09-11 batch. I finally had a roommate. Every one was scandalized at the possibility of a swine flu case in woodstock. Especially Gauri , who had a bad fever.</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Remember Gauri's Schumacher speech ? Remember our stats prof and the chocolates? Remember Mangesh's protest at the live conference with Prpf. Dr. Salunkhe. I loved that . Proud of you , buddy. But , it made us compulsory for us to attend outbound and I had to cancel my flight ticket. </div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">@ Ritz, Abhi & other crew members : Remember Alta ki ek Dhar? Ritech, Deshmukh : Loved all your parody songs buddies. Thanks for not writing one for me.</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">@ Shine, Rash , Manisha: Remember the Four Musketeers club ? The awesome 25th Dec and tour to Hoganakkal ? </div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">Remember how we all went to Rex on 1st Jan 2010 to watch Three Idiots ?</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">And then we're busy withing procuring our summers. This is the time when I played holi for the first time. </div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">One of the best part for me on first year was that I got to visit many places thanks to all these competitions !</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">As if it was only yesterday that we were preparing for our seniors' farewell . Now, it's time for our own. </div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">The second year was great but for me at least it was never as good as the first year. </div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">We all saw a lot of things in these two years. Friendship , love, heart-break , team spirit, PJs, Back stabbing, tears , laughter. </div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">This two years at woodstock was the first time I was staying away from my home , my parents. On 15th July 2009 , when I couldn't stop crying after my parents left for WB, Andrea sat beside me at bus and said one thing: 'We're your family here. We'd take care of you.' I truly felt that in each day of these two years. I had found friends here who were even closer than my family members. </div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #000066; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">We live in a world where everything decays eventually. I don't expect that we'd remain best of friends even after parting from WeSchool. Probably distance will change a lot of things. Probably the best good friends well gradually grow apart. But these memories will stay on. So would all these photos(Unless there's some software compatibility issue or you're careless enough to lose your hard disc) . And probably , after 30 years , when we'll go through these memories , these silly snaps will make us have smile on our eyes. And in our darkest hours these memories will show us the way and comfort us with the sweet reassurance : 'All izz well'!</div></div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-47033648644010182642011-02-16T19:30:00.000+05:302011-02-16T19:30:09.135+05:30Untax the Syntax please !<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My relatives are nowadays using mostly three adjectives to describe my current state. Unemployed, jobless and worthless (Bekar) . The reason behind their suddenly evoked interest in me is because of the fact that I am not paying tax to the honorable govt of India. I am not trying to emulate the venerable director of my B-School and be an expert in the art of tax evasion . It’s not that I don’t pay tax, actually , I don’t need to pay tax cause I don’t earn a penny.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anyway, back to my relatives and the adjectives </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">mentioned </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">hitherto</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. While blatantly using any of these three words in any sentences aiming to reprimand me, what my folks seem to miss is the subtle difference between these apparent synonymous words. Their conjecture is that they would no longer need to use any of these decorative eulogies the moment I dive into the cesspool of a nine to five (whom am I kidding? It’s actually 8am- 11pm) ‘JOB’. But just because you’re in someone’s payroll doesn't mean that you’d cease to become the moron you were prior to wearing the feather crown of 8.5 per annum . So, if someone is worthless now , she’d continue to remain so even after getting a job. rather a moderately gifted individual can develop the contagious corporate brain rust within 2 months into her first job. Whether it’ll affect her or not will depend on how many grey cells are left unaffected even after the two years of oxidative and corrosive MBA environment. Coming to the second adjective, Joblessness of the so called jobs are a worldly accepted fact and something which I encountered first hand during my internship stint. The most common job one requires to do religiously is something which could be best learnt in ‘Ustad Massage Institute’ and not in a ‘B-school’!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, I am worthless, jobless and unemployed. But I have this grave hunch that the first two behavioural conditions will continue to remain unaltered even when I am employed ! </span></div></div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-89864867622882854342011-01-31T22:24:00.006+05:302011-01-31T23:25:54.172+05:30Writers Block & Ticking Clock<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">How's it possible that the first month of the nascent (?!) year would pass by without a single post by this crackpot blogger? Considering the fact that the concerned anthropoid used to write several posts in a week, you must be eager to know what kept her so occupied for a while that she forgot her ain true love : trying to save the world from the energy crisis by giving constant supply of natural gas in the form of blog posts ! So, without further ado let's try and rescue our dear planet. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But before that lemme present my arguments to the jury :</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Almost 180 years have passed since Raja Ram Mohan and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"> Lord William Bentinck banned the practice of Sati : the vicious practice of burning the widowed Hindu women alive in their husbands' pyres. We were unfortunate enough to witness such practices even in 21st century. But media has overlooked a modified reincarnation of this nauseous practice which has transcended any parochiality such as religious or gender borders. In the new Sati-system coined by the great Indian private B-Schools, any human being belonging to any gender (male / female or transgender) can willingly choose to be a Sati in the time frame of Dec to March during the final year of their MBA. And the re-branded avatar of this 21st century mass Sati system is knows as ' Placement season'. The senile husbands can be anything ranging from a company which has already filed bankruptcy to an assignment where you've to sell A K 47 to terrorists as a part of your OTJ training. The moment you've been tied up with any groom , the parental responsibility of your institution will be over. For the years hence after , you've to burn in the hellfire of an industry you've no clue about , a job you absolutely detest and the onus of the gargantuan educational loan. Are you asking what will be the plight of those who would absolutely refuse to get married to such pathetic grooms and enter into the burning pyre? Their cries will be obfuscated by the hullabaloo of the college promotion activities , modern day equivalent of the 19th century conch shells and drums. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Thus, ladies and gentlemen, I admit to the guilt of not writing a word for months. But you be the judge : With each passing moment I'm moving closer to my doomsday. W</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 19px;">ith the eminent threat of such excruciating death , which intrepid soul can concentrate on anything else?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"> After all aren't we supposed to secure our own future before we venture to save the planet? </span></div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-57455779969443135062010-12-17T22:17:00.000+05:302010-12-17T22:17:19.297+05:30Death of a Scribbler ?<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black; line-height: 150%;">I once remember mentioning that writing for me was just a means of escape from my reality. So, if I start enjoying or worse loving my reality, will I Stop writing? The inspiration behind any creation what-so-ever is basically some form of passion. Can I ever be as passionate to any other emotions as I was to my desolation? But then, the origin of the word passion lies in endurance and suffering. So, is it that all creators are basically emotional masochists? Do they have to attract affliction even if there's no trace of it? Would we really put an effort to create something if the world around us is gregarious to our most unjust appeals? Don't the angels envy us the Earthians just because the trace of imperfection in our lives which makes us so colourful and unique? Why would one ever feel the need to articulate any of her feelings in any form of creation if she's too busy just absorbing and experiencing all the gifts nature can bestow upon her? If we're too busy caressing the time of our life we won’t really bother to reflect upon it or to document it. Thus we need emotional troughs as much as we need the crests (if not more!). Creations occur in those troughs when we've a hint of bereavement from those crests, when we can sit back and ponder upon the flow of apparent chaotic events and be thankful for what life had offered to us!</span></span></span></div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-36360509517317583462010-11-28T22:35:00.003+05:302010-11-28T22:47:52.496+05:30Sunday night bakwas :<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Who knew that the combo of coffee, chocolate and coldness could be a possible stimulant to a tsunami of senseless thoughts? No, tsunami probably is not the right imagery here. At least this natural calamity has some pattern. My madcap thoughts ran like a sinister panic plan crafted by the Joker himself. They left me dumbfounded and vulnerable because I couldn’t foretell the nature of the next thought which might be generated from the unfathomable profundity of my subconscious. Thus, each of these thoughts had some new weapons to strike and pierce my terrorized territory of consciousness with. But then, I guess I needed this. Unless the archetypal villain comes to slaughter you, you’d never probably search for your superhero. And unless you turn on that distress sign, years of non-action will turn your mighty superhero into a vestigial being. Soon, you'll start looking outside in search of a backup hero. But, no-one can know your villains better than your own hero. Cause your hero emerged from the same unknown alleys of your existence as these villains did. Only your <i>own</i> hero can help you win this guerrilla warfare and the outsourced heroes will be as helpless in places like this as American soldiers in the jungles of Vietnam. So, have faith in your hero, have faith in yourself. Never let your hero fade away into oblivion. Together, you can win any battle the world might pose to you ! </span><br />
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</div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-85975182682657358562010-11-14T10:47:00.003+05:302010-11-16T19:23:59.587+05:30Random ThoughtsThoughts keep on multiplying and after some days they just fade away in some murky dungeon of our memory where they are left to rot. I don't know if blogging will ever help me or my thoughts in any manner , but I guess i just don't care. I don't write for getting clarity or attracting audience or steering up a revolution (All these things will be nice perks though!! ) . After abstaining from blogging for too many day , my brain and my heart just start smelling like shit , thanks to those over crowded dungeons and I've no choices left but to let some of these prisoner out into the void . They all start screaming in joy in the sudden enthusiasm of experiencing freedom and thus create a chaos more powerful than the one created in the beginning of the universe !<br />
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</div><div>Bottomline : I'm back to blogger's page after a long time and don't quite know what to write about . But let's try , nevertheless . </div><div><br />
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</div><div>The trip to my hometown , as i surmised , made me feel so uncomfortable that i was beaming with joy when i finally went onboard the flight back to my real home-town , Bangalore . But strangely enough , after the 20 days stay in the place where i spent my 1st 20 years of my life, my hostel which always made me feel so much at home just seemed like another hotel . And i wanted to hit the road again , i wanted to go back and finish the conversation i always wanted to have . But i just didn't know what exactly do i wanna talk about. But i needed some time . Those 20 days hadn't presented me with a single chance to do what i originally intended to do ... ie just talk nonsense with the hope that they'll make all the senses of the world. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Thus, my enlightening trip to Mathura-Vrindavan began ! On train i learnt , once again , not to judge people by their face values . Thus my pejorative lover co-passengers turned out to be quite nice and helpful individual and after a small adventure of jumping off a running train and walking in the bleak light of dawn with 40 male strangers and travelling with 9 of them in an auto , i finally found a bus to Delhi which dropped me at Chhotikara , a highway bus stop from where shared giant autos for Vrindaban is available for 5 bucks . </div><div><br />
</div><div>The much needed 'talk' didn't take place in this tour as well but thankfully , the need itself was gone. It's miraculous how a hug can save the trouble of speaking 10,000 unnecessary words .</div><div><br />
</div><div>I'd come to Vrindavan twice before , 1st time was when i was in 6th standard ie on 1999 & 2nd time was when i just finished my 10th standard board exam ie on 2004 . Vrindavan has changed . It's charm was in the innocence of the Vrajbasis' smiles , in the warmth of their helpful voices and in the ever present wonderment in their wide open eyes. Now, all these has changed . You can't get a direction here without being chased by a pestilent guide for the next 40 minutes . You can't get a change of 50 bucks from any of the shops unless you buy something . And the ogle of the eyes does nothing but making a girl feel grossly underdressed !</div><div><br />
</div><div>But then the spirit of Vrindavan is still intact in the rural areas, spared by the 'Hare Krishna' followers , where the blatantly wealth centric outlook has not eclipsed all that these people once hold close to (Ops , am i sounding like a lal jhandawali ? ) . </div><div><br />
</div><div>As for me , some of my tangible traits have changed for sure . 7 years is a long time. 12 years is even more so. But one thing has not changed : the most memorable moments of even this tour came when i was talking solitary strides and lone hikes , lost in my own world . Previously some people will be there to physically escort me but they could never reach anywhere close to my ever drifting mind . Now , the distance is both physical and mental . The indignity inflicted upon solitude must be the conspiracy of a florist who wanted to sell a merit-less , thorn intensive , red flower to his customers. We can never actually get rid of our so called loneliness thus it's time we had stopped trying and just be happy that at least our own thoughts are there to accompany us when we're watching a brilliant sunset from the Yamuna riverbanks. Who know, we might suffer from Alzheimer's tomorrow and even this thought wont be there anymore . Only one matter of concern is there in the entire scenario and that comes in the form of clicking your own photos . I can't wait for the day when those Japanese scientists will come up with robot cams !! </div><div><br />
</div><div>Hopefully i'll write a detailed travelogue of my Vrindavan tour soon , but not today . It's time to raise some other questions . Today is international children's day. And i wont talk about the obvious issues of child labor , child prostitution and infant trafficking. I'd leave you with you own conscience regarding whether or not you chose to employ an 14 year old to look after your 11 year old kid. I'll talk about us . The ever bulging middle part of the income pyramid : the little ones in our family and the little ones even present inside our own souls. In my trip to WB , i met a kid after a gap of 7 years . The 5 year old child is on the verge of his teen-age now , and strangely enough i was still treating him as a 5 year old .I know i hated being treated that way as a child . But the same myopia is clouding my visions now. I wonder if we ever ever really change from what we become in those formative adolescence years. To really know a human being even remotely , we must know take a trip through his childhood memory . Please take a closer look to your 11 year olds . With all your vigilance over her life many things might have escaped your senses numbed by adult pride. Thus , next time she wants to spend less time with her chachaji , rather than rebuking her for lack of socializing skills , ask why. Don't under-estimate the perceptiveness of that 9 yearite, he's more than capable of understanding your sarcastic comments . Please dont drive her to recitation classes when all she wants is to dance . The person in front of you in not an extension of yourself as genetic inheritance can never assure an intellectual inheritance as well. So, sometimes just let him be. Just like any other so called 'days' the concept of children's day is bogus . She is finding her own way in her own sweet time. Every day is her's . She just needs you to be there to console her if she falls , not to reprimand her or to show her every steps . Are we grown up enough to treat our kids in that way ? </div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-20130266534419817552010-10-01T13:31:00.011+05:302010-11-21T15:47:30.063+05:30The One Question (Which led to(o) Many)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After a break of nearly 5 months ,it's time for me to once again appear for the test .. No. i am not talking about the trimester exam which , BTW, will start from this Monday . I couldn't have been less bothered about it, but then , that's evident from the fact that in-spite of having a deadline in submitting a 5000 word digital marketing assignment by eod , the only words that i've written so far was in form of writing this blog. I am actually worried about a more critical exam : The post-trimester-visit-home trip . And it's gonna be even tougher this time thanks to the fact that this trip is clashing with Durga Puja and I've scored a same side goal by handing them over a topic to verbally rape me with : My recent Exeter trip . Generally , in occasions like this , I embrace the neutral energy of the universe by choosing to retreat from the battlefield and by far my two dearest friends have always helped me to find some escapeway (some lame excuses to be precise). But , this time I don't have them by my side . For the 1st time in these short twenty one years on Earth all (and that's a small number) of my friends are committed , distant and busy with their boyfriends with whom they'd spend the rest of the year anyway . So, i have to face my enemies and win the battle , all by myself , as Celine Dion would probably put it across. So, the million dollar ONE question is : " How am i gonna avoid my relatives' inappropriately inordinate eagerness to butt into my (non-existent) relationship stories ?"</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I always hated some occasions : Valentine's day , New Year's day, Swaraswati Puja (that is, untill I left WB) & the most evil of them all : Durga puja . Now, i come from a jiant (that is a hybrid of Joint & Giant) family and we've a 'pujo' of our own . In my childhood i'd wait eagerly for these 5 days & my new clothes but then since when I turned 10 & into an atheist , these 5days became intolerable . Even after 11 years my mom has not quite been used to the fact that i don't participate in puspanjoli on Ashtomi. But, that's not the only reason why i feel; well, not myself during these puja days. See, Durga puja is a time when you're supposed to spend the daytime with your friends and the night with your boyfriend. Now don't get me wrong . I am sure most of the average bong couples have done nothing more adventurous than finding a quiet place behind the alter , frequented only by mosquitoes which followed by the girl realizing that her lipstick was not really smudge proof. But these silly couples who will probably not even last beyond the Laxmi puja had an amazing ability to make me feel depressed not to mention that the cobalt blue sky , small white pansy of clouds and the smell of 'Shiuli' flower made the case even worse. So, I'd spend my un-happening noons reading pujo sonkhya and avoiding irritating relatives and would go to bed by 11pm only to stay up all night eavesdropping to the faint sounds coming out my window facing the alleyway. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">All these can be tolerated when you know that amongst all those people out in the road , there is no one you know but this time at least two , amongst those millions of hands holding each other , will be of my two true friends'. And i am happy for them but a bit sad for myself . And that led me to introspect a bit. I never really wanted to an officially committed relationship. I am way too much independent for that. Probably what i need now is a contract basis man whom i can be with for the 3 days and then just erase from my life . But the word ' no strings attached' is not really very famous in India. Alternatively I can search for my yon true love in 2 weeks and the chances of finding the one from so many out there in so less time is minuscule : </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">4.59*10^(-)8%</span> ( & ever declining) </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">to be precise ! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But then , do i even need the one for myself ? or is it just like getting a new Mochi stiletto : pretty (OK! I'll be honest: TERRIBLY ) uncomfortable to wear but looks gr8 and people notice and praise . But, why do i need people & convention to validate me ? Why do i need a man by my side to see a beautiful sunset when the mellow voice of Norah Jones in my i-pod would be more than sufficient? He'd probably smoke , spit ,fart or say something dumb and destroy my mood altogether. Isn't it a tad too much to expect that a Knight in a shining armor will come & break that invisible wall around me when , my own parents couldn't even guess there is a wall? And also , wasn't the armor always more important than the knight itself? I guess we're all just a bunch of armors ... we never take it off even when we're , pardon the phrase , butt naked and in deep shit . So , in this puja when my friends will be holding the hands of their beloveds , will i be able to hear the inaudible sound of a metallic clang ? </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One thing is for sure... The only Knight i am ever gonna meet up close personal with no armor , is , Myself . And i am pretty cool with that. But, that being said , it wouldn't be bad to show off some shining armor to my relatives this time ... After-all , All marketers are liars & All's fair in (fake) love and war (with clingy relatives )!!!</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">PS : I dont have an i-pod , just mentioned it to make this blog sound cool ;)</span>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-7186476437866985612010-09-16T15:46:00.017+05:302010-10-07T09:06:27.106+05:30* E* & the City !<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">U might tag this blog as the re-incarnation of the rebel . After surviving from an air pocket and an extended jet-lag , I thought of using this lucky holiday to document my experiences of the past 4 days as a form of a travelogue (or traveblog to be more precise ) but a chance encounter to the FB status update of a friend changed it all. So, here i am using the nets of the virtual world to fish some junks out of the surface my not too deep sea of (sub?)consciousness. 1st thing 1st . Here comes the status update </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">:</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">" </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names" data-ft="{"type":"name"}"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Abhinav Singh Thakur</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">: </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Two no holds barred nights in Mysore with a beautiful stranger, with the promise of never to meet again. Can life get any better ;-) "</span></span></span><br />
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<div><div class="mobile_status" style="display: inline; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 5px;"><span id="profile_status"></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Doesn't this immediately evoke the memory of ' Before sunrise / Before Sunset' series of movies to you? It did to me and i was horrified to realize how difficult it is to have some 'good time' in this country which is the proud origin of the greatest sexopedia ever and that too written some 1800 years ago. The reason of the 'starrified' heading of this post is that the word 'sex' , even in this era of globalization , remains a tabooed word in India . Thus an innocent picture of PDA uploaded by my friend in FB attracted much public ire. Now the entire issue of PDA remains controversial but is it really a sin to upload the picture of a smooch online when the media is flooded by the surfeit of pictures of death and destruction ? Somehow & somewhere along the 18 centuries between 200 AD and now , hypocrisy has become an inherent trait of Indians. Thus even though the young generation loves cracking 'non-veg' jokes ,they seldom participate in open (all pun intended) conversations & they still believe in the concept of retaining one's virginity till the wedding night (or pretends to at least ) . And it's worse for girls . </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">What does the society [which consists of both the males & the females who have been imbibed with the male chauvinistic philosophy] expect from women?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">1>A woman shall never show her sexual hankering. This rule may have an exception when the girl is a complete stranger or a mere acquaintance with whom the male partner has no intention of having any relation the moment the deed is done.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 329.25pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span>2>Now comes the uber-cool Boyfriends . Even though they may have some 20 GB of hidden porn folders in the hard disc and have jerked off numerous times : they not only always expect their girlfriends or wives to be virgins but also they want them not to know the meaning of the word masturbation, forget about practicing it . The reason behind this apart from the hackneyed sentimental one is not tough to guess. Actually they are not quite sure about their sexual potential & thus feel insecure to try it out upon girls who are not that innocent.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 329.25pt;">3> here comes the inevitable “parent point”. Now I don’t have much idea about how hard they try to secure the virginity of their sons but in case of their daughters they do their best. Is it just because they are frightened that their innocent girls may unknowingly land into domains of problems like threats from bad boys, unwanted pregnancy, STD etcetera [the third predicament is pertinent to the boys as well, & the 1st one to our gay friends]. Or are there some more implicit intentions behind their vigilance? If they are so interested to ensure their daughter’s security then why don’t they give them some basic sex-educations? Every person tends to develop some sexual thirst after their puberty. But the parents keep a cautious blind eye towards all their questions about the sudden change in their body & mind ... in Indian philosophy there is a tradition of neglecting perceptible things like the body & transmuting the total attention towards the invisible soul.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 329.25pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 329.25pt;"><span lang="EN-US">But the momentous point which we fail to understand is that the writers of such incandescent literary & philosophical works started to write them only when their life had already reached the stage of wrapping up. Most of these philosophers led an epicurean existence during the pinnacle of their youth. The evidence nestles in the walls of our ancient edifices. But we never had the habit of analyzing the so called ' values ' tough to us , let alone questioning them . Spending decades in mugging up during academia has not failed to leave its upshots. So we always present the unnecessarily glorified example of the self restraint of our ancestors towards our children. & we fail to realize the whole concept of self restraint was never a part of the culture of this country. Its origin lies the Victorian era & it was embedded upon us during the 200 years of colonial rule.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 329.25pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 329.25pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Now let's talk about the boys2men . One of my best friends has decided to get married to a girl he is not too sure if he loves just because the society is ruthless to people like him who are over 30 , single and don't have the intention or courage to go to brothels to satiate their need. And the worst part which this poor soul is not yet aware of is that marriage in India ( or in any nation i guess) is just the beginning of an unofficially official celibacy-hood ! For those of my friends who are not so old and 'committed' , the commitment was mostly imposed than intentional because a casual ONS is unthinkable here. Aren't you suppose to kiss a few frogs before you find your prince / princess ? Apparently , NOT in the birthplace of Kamasutra . Here you're supposed to get married to the 1st frog you meet , give birth to some hybrid children and make life a hell for them by fighting with your spouse for the rest of your life and yet refusing to file a divorce in fear of depriving the kids of a 'wholesome' life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 329.25pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 329.25pt;"><span lang="EN-US">But then , i hope India is getting back to its roots ... If not in the real cities , in the e-city at least. The 'E'-xistence has emerged as a means of liberation for us. I just saw a glimpse of it in the FB status update of Mr X . I am proud of him . Just one suggestion as a microbiologist : ' be careful of the retroviruses'! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 329.25pt;"><br />
</div></span></span></div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-37266468164455972332010-08-13T20:53:00.001+05:302010-09-16T16:45:36.703+05:30Ode to a stranger<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">statutory warning: It's NOT a poem!</span></span><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Sitting in the class on a dull Friday morn,</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">So many people around me...</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Makes me feel even more lonely.</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">NO. ‘Lonely’ perhaps, is not the right word.</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">What is it that I am feeling?</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">OR, am I feeling at all? </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">It’s not rage, neither grief,</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Nor the apprehension of a bleak future...</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">I’ve just turned into a fossilized tree!</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">I see them all around-</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Laughing, loving, hating, mating;</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Doing some substantial work...</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Or the façade of it at least!</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">I don’t need to put on that mask again;</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">It has been embossed into my face, FOREVER.</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">The mask of careless sobriety, mask of a joker</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">I am lost underneath the mound of masks.</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">I feel sick of the suffocation they cause,</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">But I can’t evade them...</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">They are a part of my existence now!</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">I can’t even recall how I used to look like-</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">The fuel that I once had inside me,</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Is turning into a debris of unused love.</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">I can see my life sinking every day, every moment </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Sinking into the quicksand of it.</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><br />
</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Give me a sparkle, light me up:</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Let those fuels burn me down.</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">I want to scream in pain, </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Smell the odour of my own burning skin</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">& when all is gone,</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Only the ashes are left,</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Will you not care to search for something?</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Find my soul from under the piles of ash-</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">It’s waiting for so long,</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">It’s sinking for eternity...</span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">For thy flame to come and show it its way.</span></span></i></div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-22551222880366008712010-07-27T23:27:00.004+05:302010-07-27T23:34:36.585+05:30Chalachitra O Chandalika<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now-a-days, the only thing on which I consistently spend at least 1/6 th part of a solar day is : Watching movies . Thus on this blog I'll try and write my feedback on a few recently watched movies. Some of these movies are brand new and the others are pre-historic (to me at least , considering the fact that my personal history as a human being began at 1989!). And for the 1st time in my blogger life I've decided to KISS and thus none of these reviews would be the answer of a PG level history paper. So, let's start the journey with looking back at Indian Mythology.</span><br />
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</span></div><div><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Peter Brook's Mahabharata</span></b></i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">:</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> The director has successfully turned this epic into a rather parochial skirmish sprinkled abundantly with venereal innuendos which, far from giving the film a erotic hue , restricts the true potential of the epic. Though at 1st I was elated to see the use of Rabindrasangeet in this movie , soon I realized , it's a half baked effort to try to give an "Indian" special effect to the otherwise bland movie. I wont be a hypocrite and say that Mahabharata never had any sexual connotations, there were plenty of it throughout this (or any else) ancient scripture. But like a giant ultra complicated onion , this epic has many layers which are intricately entwined by erotica. I was upset to see the way Achilles's relationship with his lover Patroclus was being ridiculously portrayed as mere camaraderie in the movie version of Homer's epic, but the portrayal of most characters of Brook's Mahabharata redefines the word 'ridiculous'. Final Opion : Except some of the actors' brilliant performance and the elegance and enchanting beauty of Draupadi, Brook had nothing much to offer and it remains to be "Peter Brook's" Mahabharata , merely an obscure shadow of the epic. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Inception:-</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">YES, Finally I've done it . I've watched the most talked about movie of this year . The revolutionary movie which bridged the gap between both critics and average movie goers and became the adam's apple of both of these species . Now , on a movie of this public esteem , it's almost impossible to say anything which has not been said before. But nevertheless, I'd try and commit the same sin I've committed while writing the review of '3 Idiots' . Yes, I am gonna be one of those few who has criticized this movie. 1st thing 1st. Whatever Inception might be, this hybrid between a heist and a science fiction is NOT an intellectually stimulating film. The dreams shown in this movie has not only been dreamt but also brought into existence in films like 'Solaris' (the original Andrei Tarkovsky version) and Matrix series. So, in the end this movie is but the extension and redecoration of the Ocean's series with a few ideas extracted from some other maestros' dreams . And the worst part was the misuse of a brilliant actor like Marion Cotillard. Seems like she was cast in this movie only as a marketing gimmick , just to evoke the distant dreams of her brilliant performance as Edith Piaf , what else can explain the use of the song "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 23px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Non, Je ne regrette rien" as the only song to wake up the dreamy thieves? Fianl word? Co</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">mplete waste of my 220 bucks. Could've easily downloaded and watched it from P2P sites. </span></div><div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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</div></div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-28552598048100718512010-06-28T15:08:00.020+05:302010-11-21T15:28:18.252+05:30@ PUNE: So Long,Fare well,Au revior,Alvida!!!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Finally I acquired the courage and sent the email to my mentor "intimating my last day as a trainee in this company" (Subject courtesy and content editing : the one and only DRC) !!! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So; here at the end of the month June; as the faint monsoon drips ward off those evil sweats from your skin and decorate the tip of ur pilus with the diamond like faint yet intricate droplets from the heaven above<i> </i>; I do bid my adieus to my friends @ Pune, the plethora of new acquaintances I've made here, my colleagues , my room-mates of 2 months' and above all the city itself. I know I've mostly criticized this city through-out most of my blogs but let me take this emotion drenched farewell opportunity to say a few (a lot rather) good things about this city and why I'd A-L-M-O-S-T considered the 2 summer months I've spent here to be my summer of ' 69.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">These were my 1st proper 2 months completely , utterly , exclusively under the aegis of well, MYSELF. While for the 1st 2 weeks , I was too absorbed by the idea/ habit of being in a hostel (which eventually has turned out to be an extended family for me) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">life</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">; I began enjoying my stay alone in an unknown city once the miserable 1st 15 days were over. I knew the city pretty well by the and of the 1st week itself, courtesy my habit of aimlessly loitering around the unknown streets :) </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, here cometh the top five lists ( Author's gratitude to 'High Fidelity') :- </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>craziest things I've done in Pune:-</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">5> going to MTv stuntmania alone and and dancing to the tunes of AKON in-front of 1000 scandalized spectators !</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">4> The amazingly unplanned Thane trip </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">3> The trip to Raigarh which, inspite of being a fun one, turned out to be rather DAMP(pun intended ) and left me completely sleepless for, hold ur breath , 42 hours !!!( I must also mention here that the ropeway journey through the clouds, the beauty on the way and the eerie moonlight mountain paths while coming back left me mesmerized.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2> The all girl bike trip to Sinhagarh </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anddd the top of the list , the unanimous winner obviously is </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1> The DIVE_AGAR TURNED MURUD JANJIRA- ALIBAG TRIP.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Funtime I had here:-</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">5> The foodaholic(s)- Day out with Karan & Manpreet which used to mandatorily include "Cafe Good-Luck"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">4> The ferris wheel trip at Manaranjor Nagar next to Deccan with 2 complete strangers who turned into friends in less than 5 minutes :)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">3>The tour to Lonavla followed by mad chit-chat with Manisha (and I went to sinhagarh in the very next moring @ 6 after staying up till 2!)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2> The gregarious reception at Charu's place followed by my 1st lone hike to Lonavla</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">& </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1> Mumbai- the friday-night (I guess I reached at 23.55 Hrs :) to Monday Afternoon Jam packed tour with all my dear friends</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Breath-taking beauty:---</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">5> Chatursinghi Temple (It was a sunday I guess, and in-spite of the blazing heat, i loved that place but unfortunately Shanivarwada , where i ventured next, turned out to be quite disappointing though the stroll in Laxmi Rd was interesting and offer my eye with an unique yet diverse visual plater) </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The serendipitous discovery of a point ,located at the backyard of my PG , from where almost the entire Pune can be seen.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">4> Up and Above , courtesy a very old virtual friend of mine</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">3> Parvati temple :- both the trips there</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2> Nariman point :- both with only Manisha & with 2MP(Manisha , Mangu & Prasanna) ;amp</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And the winner? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1> Sunset from the Arabian sea , while coming back from Elephanta caves .</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Pure Rush of Adrenaline :- </b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">5> the Water scooti ride in some beach (can't remember the name) near Alibag</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">4> Back-Stroke at the Arabian ocean : -in Murud Janjira</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">3>Sun and moon standing at 180* in terabethia, the magical mountain of A.R.A.I , a land which inevitably reminded me of LOTR series !</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Can't find anything else to add to the list .. were these 2months so less thrilling that i couldn't find an winner ? !! neway let's proceed to the next list.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>NEW F-R-I-E-N-D-S / A-C-Q-U-A-I-N-T-A-N-C-E-S:-</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">5>Puja(My Room-mate Shailaja's Sis, the potential supermodel)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">4>Dr Abdullah</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">3>Manpreet Rajpal</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Kalpita Kshirsagar</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1>Devayani Khare</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And aboveeeee all of these , the biggest gain of all ,,, the winner amongst all these was a real quality time with myself..I absorbed the elixir out of each moment (</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">please take a note: m </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">NOT talking about my project or Professional life ) and i loved myself even more(if such a thing is indeed possible) for being capable of doing so!... I just hope to continue doing so after going back to B'lore as well provided it doesn't negatively affect by still nascent career tree.. So, 'BALANCE' is gonna be the keyword! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, good bye Pune. The last one month of my 20th year and 1st 1 month of my 21st year were truly special thank to you. This had no doubt been the 1st summer of '69 of my life so far , I thank thee for it and hope many such are yet to come!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><b>PS:- Top five things I'd miss about Pune:-</b></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>1>The food- the aroma of the cold coffee, sensation of mastani (@ Meridian ), taste of the Peshwari Paratha , tinge of the freshly made poha & the feel of the Bun Maska</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>2>Mountain in the backyard and breathtaking view from the terrace while swinging in the hammock </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>3>Lack of Traffic J-A-M</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>4>All Fun & No Work scenario where any week-day could have been turned into an week-end in a moment's notice!</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>5> Uninterrupted freedom of doing crazy things </i></span><br />
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</i></span>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-59966517018576635362010-06-03T17:28:00.007+05:302010-11-21T16:03:10.478+05:30Worst Birthday Ever But... ... ...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So , it's official ... I've turned 21 and spent my worst birthday except probably for the day on which I actually was born . My umbilical cord conspired to strangle my throat and thus my entire birth process was not exactly what one would describe as hassle free. So, even before I was born , I started freaking out my kith and kin and probably I'd do the same even after my death ! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sometimes I do wonder why do we always wish the child ( that child might be 97 years old for all it matters) in her/ his birthday; don't u think that it's the mother who deserves the congratulations for her bravery to enter into a relationship from which she can never break up or get a divorce? And then there's the physical pain and sacrifices on the front of career , enjoyment and addiction ! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I missed her badly yesterday ... on my 1st birthday away from home ... Even though I was overwhelmed by all the calls I got from all my friends and near & dear ones ; I Somehow felt a bit empty .. sometimes words are not enough .. I longed to see their faces , I longed to hug them and laugh at their PJs . The fact that there was no electricity in my PG and my cell was 90% discharged , even aggravated my blues ... But somehow I managed to sleep for an hour or so in-spite of the attack of a fleet of mosquitoes and my room-mate's sudden urge to put on make up at 2am in the night (honest to God she did that and then she took a bath .. I was feeling like I'd been transported to some ghost story's set) and I woke up fresher than a young green grass drenched with dew drops ! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">For the 1st time ever I went to office way earlier than the scheduled time and had a rather nice day. The lunch was good except for the most dreadful pina colada and believe it or not i treated 2 of my colleagues ! The phone rang from time to time to brighten up the rather dull Wednesday afternoon with warm & vibrant wishes and I especially enjoyed the 2 hour long talk with Oindrila (over phone of course ) where we kept on talking about exotic foods and excellent films ! And then it was 6.30 and I was torn between the choices of accompanying the aforementioned 2 colleagues of mine to "Good-Luck Cafe" , one of my most favorite eating joints of Pune located at F C Road and going to Pune station to meet a very old friend of mine. And I choose the later. I dont kno why . I guess i was feeling a bit like an emotional wreck, struck in a city I absolutely didn't yet became close to and a job I absolutely detested . I needed to be somewhere or with some-one which/ who feels like home... Now, I've a weird definition of home . I never considered it to be a place or a bunch of persons ... it always remained as an idea , something very vague and yet stunningly clear ... I am sure you've no idea of what i am talking about, neither do i! I guess i just wanted to spend the evening with someone i knew for quite some time and whom i considered to be not just a mere acquaintance , rather a friend . I am a single child and was always blessed with a huge number of friends. Most of them never forgot my birthday and never failed to make me crazy with all their enthusiastic plans to make the day special for me... I was missing them and even though I didn't expect anything remotely close to my normal birthdays , I just wished to be noticed . I was sick of being invisible ...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But that's exactly what happened ... I felt like as if i didn't exist .. i was feeling insulted and angry ... angry with myself for giving any1 the chance to ruin my special day. For all the readers of my blog , if u ever go to meet a friend of urs on his or her birthday , please do carry at least a small eclairs with u. No matter how indifferent and careless a person pretends to be, in some days of our lives we all long to be treated like a protagonist of the drama called life and we feel good to feel that our friends care for us ! I never miss a chance to wish people in their birthdays. Even if they are mere strangers . I find this day to be very special , just imagine if by any celestial conspiracy , this day was erased from earth ? How would the world be if you were just not there? In truth , it would go on just the same . Maybe nothing will change but then , we all like to think it'd make a difference .. We love to imagine that WE can make a difference ... So, i tried my best to play my part well .. ie , the part of a good samaritan, a perfect friend . I could understand the emotional upheaval this friend of mine was going through and i felt his need of having a media to vent them all out ... And i felt like a disposable coffee mug . Did u ever think how they might have felt ? those mugs? They feel the direct heat , the stain : actually all the bad things while they dont even get to or want to drink the coffee ... Actually , i was hungry .. I ate at 12.30 pm in the afternoon and it was almost 9pm and all I was doing was to try and maintain my poise ... I was too angry to even express my frustration . I was afraid that if i open up even a small lid of my heart , the accumulated depression which turned into rage , disgust and all the syndromes of emotional nausea would just break the dam of my mind and sweep off everything ! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When i was in the bus , i called my landlady to inform her that i was at a friend's place and i'd be a bit late and will reach by 11pm .She behaved extremely rudely and advised me to stay outside @ "that friend's place" and i felt like if I could turn my anger into energy then the entire universe would blow up ... but funnily enough , i was not angry with any1 else,,, i just hated myself and kept on scolding myself badly ... You've no idea how bad you'll feel to rebuke urself on your own birthday .. But then, if u r on the verge of crying,,u can at least prevent urself from the embarrassment of that by erasing ur emptiness with ur anger. And then I returned to my PG (w/o procuring any food as i didn't have time ) and thankfully the exhaustion and hunger put me to sleep ...That was the best part of the day ..When i could feel the sleep fairy singing her lullaby to me!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I woke up at around 1am 2day by a call from that friend of mine who apologized for destroying my birthday..I wonder why they do that.. I mean u can never actually say : " yes u daft prick .. u did that , u were just not there when i needed you the most and i am disgusted that i ever let myself fall under the illusion that YOU could ever be a friend of mine "... so all I did was to smile and say : "That's what friends are for!" ... Of course he didn't understand my sarcasm ... few actually does !</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">PS. the "But" part : It does feel good to have the illusion of sacrificing a very special evening of yours for people you care for ... In the end of the day , you yourself can make you happy or sad .. thus I again got a lesson I always knew but of late forgotten : "I am my best friend and worst enemy " .. so it's convenient to for me to chose to be the former and I'd do that from now on!</span>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-12214885639182905402010-06-01T15:28:00.019+05:302011-05-29T22:53:02.249+05:30Murud Janjira<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">( </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Last post from a 20 year old Blogger</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">: I am not quitting blogging, silly! This is a </span><s><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">subtle</span></s><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> hint just to remind u to wish me a grand Happy Birthday! :P )</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, In my last blog I told u about my intention of having a legendary week-end (Read the previous blog for details please :P ) and I HAD a LEGENDARY Week-end which stretched for 2nights and 3days (starting from Saturday morn )</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I finally planned to go to Dive-agar with a friend of mine (and 2 other friends of his : I was not really looking forward to paint my week-end with any carnal hue, not at least when the source of that hue would be a PGDM class-mate of Welingkar .. HELL NOOOO!!! ) but they cancelled the plan in the last moment and even encouraged me to do the same and come to Bombay instead. So, I had to tell them about this horrible sprain in my left toe which aggravated me so much that the moment he hang up the call , I took my already packed rucksack and went straight to Swargate bus stop two hours ahead of the scheduled departure time of the bus to Dive-agar.. I roamed around for 2.5 hours before it hit me that I've probably missed the bus and i would have if I didn't brake my own speed limit ( and insane-o-meter limit) when it comes to running in the middle of a road buzzing with traffic ... !</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The next 3 hours in the bus was rather mundane except for the breath-taking scenery outside the window .Then the bus stopped in a restaurant for lunch (or technically the driver did) and I got down to buy water and ended up buying a can of bear instead and torn between whether I should drink it in the bus (I didn't want to be thrown outside the bus in the mid-way!) or do something else, I chose the later and saved the can for my evening date with the sea . Instead, I started a conversation with a co-passenger which after a brief talk about how to dissect a human being (This person was an MBBS student in AFMC) led to a detailed discussion about a place called murud janjira and I actually left my bus with this stranger I've introduced myself to less than an hour ago! I can't even remember the name of the bus-stop where I got down , and Abdul actually turned out to be a real nice person (or not! ) as he waited for nearly an hour with me in the blazing sun light only to keep me company before the bus to Murud Janjira arrived.. He also suggested that either he should come with me to Murud abandoning his cousin's marriage or I should go attend that wedding and not roam around alone in an unknown place but then that's quite irrelevant in our present context ... Nevertheless, I'd like to state a view: It's weird how our society prompts us (ie women ) not to indulge in talks with strangers , especially when we actually remain as strangers even to the closest relatives & friends... I've found from my personal experience that a man derives enormous satisfaction by playing the role of " Knight in a shining armour" to a damsel in distress . And thus even if a stranger offers to help you out , he is not necessarily trying to take advantage of you all the time . He might as well want to pacify his innate thrust of bragger,self worth and to some extend : Male Chauvinism!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My bus journey to Murud , though crowded and smelly (of raw fish and human sweat) , tured out to be amazing as 30% of the road almost touched the sea waves and I was lucky enough to see the sun melt into the Arabian ocean from on-board a moving bus. . . And this was the amongst the very few instances in my life when i saw both sun-rise and sun set in a single day and that too both from places whose enchanting beauties can never be described by words. Oh.. I forgot to mention: on saturday morn, i went to my terabithia at around 4.30 am and I saw the Pune city sleeping peacefully like a sweet puppy under the mattress of the stress of an entire week ! And from that hill top I remained witness to a story unknown to the mankind. I was standing in a place where in my left hand side the sun was rising and the warmth of it's affection was melting the cold heart of the moon situated in my right hand side and the joy that was sprinkling from her was drenching the entire city and the magical touch of it inspired everyone to start afresh : "After-all , toDAY IS another day!"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ok ok .. enough nonsense ! Back to my original story: I reached Murud at approx 8.30 pm and found out that there was no ATM there. Caution : All ya wannabe tourists : even though they are opening up ATMs in every god-damn place on earth and soon they'll open up one in Mt. Everent ; they've NOT had the sense of keeping one in Murud. The nearest ATM was JUST 60 KM away in Alibag... So there I was, stranded in a place which looked rather ominous as the electricity was taking a nap when i reached , with just 1000 bucks in my pocket and NO MOBILE NETWORK . I didn't find any place to stay in any hotel. I contemplated spending the night in the beach but had to abandon the plan after the story of a rather thrilling robbery just an week ago! But in-spite of all these, i was not really feeling threatened and never for a second i regretted coming there. Finally, I told my saga to a velpuriwala who, through a chain of a few other middle men , led me to a coconut water seller who lends his room for love birds eloping to this place in an hours notice and finding themselves in the same plight as I were then. That man's wife was sceptic about lending the room to a girl alone, a woman on her own always threatens everyone with her sheer audacity of showing the will to enjoy her life independently! Or maybe, the lady thought that i were a hooker... However, i convinced her to lend the room to me and was appalled to see the bed. Those who can actually sleep in that bed must indeed be BLIND in love..I took a horse nap that night . Besides the lack of any decent place to sleep , the reason contributing to my one night insomnia was that I couldn't refrain myself from the voyeuristic instinct of seeing the moon making love to the sea but then if a divine couple pronounce their love with such passionate roars , it's but obvious that a vain human like me wont have the abstinence to refuse the chance of beholding once in a lifetime show of such phantasmagoria...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> I love the sea.. If i had to chose a dream man from the nature , it'd be the sea... I love its salty smell which overflows with a frenzy fervency... And its call just sweeps off every other thought from my mind , i start running the moment i can hear it and the only thing i can think of is how soon will i be able to touch the waves and feel the tingle in my feet. And the best part is, as you look beyond the wildness of its surface u can see its depth, stillness and serenity and you wonder how can these contradictory traits exist in the same body! And every sea has its own charms. As of now I've met only 3 of them : Indian ocean , Bay of Bengali and Arabian sea and the last one is just PERFECT for me. I love its ever changing caprice : in morning it actually feeds my Electra complex by showing the maturity of an entity as old as the universe ( I actually swam backstroke in the sea on Sunday morning and thereby finally got my graduation degree in swimming!.. trust me it was amazing .. the pansy of clouds floating above my head and if I move my head a bit right , i could see the Janjira fort and in my left side all the coconut trees were giving me a standing ovation ) . And in the early afternoon it behaves like an adolescent kid : always fighting and screaming ; i could barely stand against its revolting waves! And then in the evening it becomes the piper of Hamelin and makes u spellbound to the music it plays !</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After nearly 2 hours of swimming followed by a brief tour in the horseback in the Sunday morn, i went to visit the Janjira fort at around 10 am. I bought a blue hat and was rather feeling like a 5 year old kid and every thing in the world was looking fresh and new to me... I was not even walking , my steps became so light that i felt like i was not a human being any more, that I was the wind . Now, after reaching the Murud port , I had to take a boat : a traditional sailing boat with a white sail . The fort itself is situated nearly 3km away from the shore and it's connected with the mainland with an underwater tunnel which, according to our guide, is situated 60 feet under the bottom of the sea . Considering the fact that the fort is 900 years old, this fact simply astounded me. I wish I had an entire day to explore the fort and i could see the sun-set from there BUT I had only 45 mins thus I had to run after the completely unromantic guide and tolerate all his blabbering.. For all u future explorers, go with plenty of time in your hand ... Hire a private boat if u have to, you need an entire day to see this place . Doesn't it seem weird to be in a place like this ? I mean it used to be an ACTUAL fort , with a king who had the power to behead anyone with a movement of his tongue( I was referring to giving spoken orders by that but u can decipher the statement as you wish !) ... There were real people here , with real hopes, dreams , desires , fears ... They slept in these rooms, they drank water from these ponds which are looking now like some mossy monster straight from a Calvin and Hobbes comics, they prayed in these mosques and temples . They saw the sunrise from the window in which I was sitting ... They had hidden from the prying eyes in this quite corner and kissed their beloved with only the rising moon as their witness. And now it all seem to be so implausible ... No one talks about these people ... History is written of the glory of the king and the brilliance of the architects who created such mighty palace and smooth doors and aesthetic windows and we forget us , the us who used to stay there 900 years ago!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After returning to mainland , I had my branch from a quiet cosy restaurant and then I took an auto and went to visit another palace nearby(whose name I've forgotten as usual, but it's the shooting spot of some quasi-famous Bollywood movie) and I could write another blog about the weird auto driver who took me there and his family (a woman who is probably his wife but he claimed her to be his sister @@!!).</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">However I came back to Murud beach by 1 and I took another round of sea bathing and went to the bus stop only to discover that i didn't have enough money to pay for my tour back to Pune! so I went to Alibag instead ... </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But this blog is already SUPER long and I think for 2day I've tortured you enough! I'd be back soon with my next blog where I'd write about the phase 2 of my madcap week-end and upload some photos as well. Till then au-revoir ! </span></div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-48966515085122365682010-05-28T17:19:00.007+05:302011-05-29T22:42:23.297+05:30Confessions and Confusions of a Narcissist !!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Why do we say TGIF?? Why thanking only God? We should also thank Satan and all the creature in Hell H<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: 16px;"><em style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>eaven</b></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b> and Earth, </b></span><em style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Horatio</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"><b>! With the dull Friday afternoon quickly coming to and end, another Week-end is approaching .. While for you, this weekend is another insignificant one in the march of many such other weekends, for me it's kinda special . You see , it's the last weekend of the 20th year of my nascent life. Now, I am the kind of person who loves to celebrate her birthday.. I am sure even when i'll turn 90 , I'd expect all my friends to arrange for a grand big cake for me and even if i suffer from diabetes mellitus and haven't left with a single teeth , I'd surely find out some ways to smuggle some portion of it inside my mouth!</b></span></em></span></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Anyway , as i was saying , this week end is a bit special for me and thus I have no intention of spending it sleeping at my room , watching movies or brooding at some gothic looking bridge on the river Mutha. Whatever I do this weekend has to have a legendary flavour about it... But i dont wanna plan anything , cause my system has some rivalry with anything which is , well, systematic ! Thus, I'll start thinking about it only after Midnight ... May be , I'd just go to the station and be on board a train w/o having any idea regarding where it goes to! But then even though it sounds interesting , somehow it ranks way beneath the legendary category : to be in that one, I need to come up with something insanely intriguing... I wish I just could go to the Pacific and swim with the dolphins where the water is as deep as forever.. But on the other hand i am not sure whether there is any dolphin in the pacific , especially post the BP oil leak ... And also it'd be prudent to come up with a more economic solution... I've already been invited to a friend's place this saturday to freak out and party all night ... But then, I met her only in the previous week in the parikrama concert I wrote about and thus I surmise I might trespass into her gregariousness if i accept her invitation .. but then i never thought much b4 doing something thus I might go but i dont want to ... Even if I end up doing the ordinary things this week-end, I wanna do them in an extra ordinary circumstances , ie even if i want to have a all night movie marathon , I just want it to be arranged in a spooky 17th century house instead of a normal modern day cage like flats... But enough blabbering about non existent plans.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Let me now tell me about a caprice of mine which led me to an Archies Gallery. But before that I shamefully admit that I was again feeling low yesterday... I was missing my mom and yet when i called her , i could not articulate my feelings and the frustration thus generated bred into an altercation ... And after a long stretch of wandering alone underneath the Deccan Bridge , I was approached by a Lady and the conversation with her and her 2 kids was a salvation for my soul.. Even though she talked to me in Marathi and I replied in English and my reply most probably didn't match her questions , I felt awfully good about the mere flow of words with another human being despite the fact that she was a complete stranger. Next , I went to Cafe Good luck which being overcrowded, I consumed some pasta salad salad(which followed by a grand meal KFC an hour later, I must control my glutton in some way!) in a cosy nice roadside cafe and while walking aimlessly in the road (as usual) , glanced upon this Archies Store and I immediately knew I needed to buy some cards... Now, some of you might argue against my predilection towards greeting cards.. "After all how can a mass produced line written by a stranger can be used as a greeting to some1 special ?" you'd say. You are right and maybe that's the reason why traditional cards are fighting a losing battle against customised ones (or even SMSes !!!) but yet sometimes we do feel like being subjugated by the bourgeois norms of the society. Thus I went inside the shop and searched for a card for my special one. Now, there were specially made cards for almost everyone: nephew, niece, brother, uncle, husband , wife , mom , dad, all the pet species starting from dog & fish to boyfriend , girlfriend & fiancée and YET ; they somehow astoundingly forgot or ignored to keep / make cards for the most special person of any living soul's life. Yes . I am talking about the lack of cards you can dedicate to yourself . Why can't there be any cards like :" Dear ME, wish u a very happy 21st birthday !".. Why narcissism till now remains a rather tabooed trait in our society while most of us have our own share of it? Or are we too afraid to admit that we love ourselves in the fear of being considered as some poor lonely souls admired and loved by no1 else ! Isn't it the other way round? Doesn't life become even more brighter for us when we learn to depend on ourselves ?</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>So, that's the food for thought for your week-end and with this I'd sign off for now .. Hopefully there'd be another post before I turn 21!</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>PS: I finally bought a normal 21st birthday wish kind of card ,,, will upload the snaps of it in this space once I've gifted it to myself adding a personal note underneath all the babbling written inside it!</b></span></div>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-13742123809512856732010-05-25T15:02:00.008+05:302010-05-26T17:25:59.750+05:30Some Gibberish<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Haven't written anything for quite a long time; wouldn't have even written anything 2day hadn't one of my friends enquired about my blog... Many news are pending from my side, including my Pune sightseeing which included tour to Parvati Temple & Chatursinghi Temple ; both of which are situated on top of hills and while exploring the 2nd one I actually climbed up the hill wearing a stiletto and I must admit it was heck of a task!!! Then on this Sunday, post the chaturshinghi tour , I visited Shaniwarvada and simply hated the place. . . However , the Laxmi road tour followed by it was quite interesting but all these are nothing compared to the monsoon of madness which flooded away my sanity on this Saturday. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">On Friday night , Manpreet gave me a lift at good-luck cafe and after she was gone, I was roaming around like a lost soul in the streets and a most miraculous thing happened . Some people probably took pity on me and handed over a concert ticket for Mtv Stuntmania Rockathon where the rock band named Parikrama was supposed to perform. So, Next day I went office at around 11.30 am (my reporting time is 9.30am ) and left for lunch at 1pm and after coming back went directly to the director's room to ask for an early leave.. Frankly speaking, i'd not have even done that hadn't my other sincere colleagues looked so scandalized at the mere thought of me eloping with my caprice w/o informing any1! The directer obviously looked thunder struck when i informed me about the concert ( I could have come up with some other excuses but i was simply sick of all these insignificant lies) , and he said in an ominous voice :" Do as u wish." Now I interpreted that as :" Yes sure, you can leave" ( Afterall your job is just a mean to sustain in life .. What's the point of a job when is the "life" itself is missing from ur life?!) and I left immediately and for the 1st time met one gregarious Puneite. I merely asked this lady for the direction of Katraj and she actually gave me a lift there. In the way we had a rather amusing discussion about the matching sunshine of me and her 11 months old son and I must confess I never knew so much about my zodiac characteristics as I came to know from her in only 20 mins. And after reaching the venue I had this irresistible urge to embarrass myself and thus actually I got up in the stage in front of some 500 + boys and girls and danced with the tune of Akon. Then , four local rock bands came and made us write a paper on patience before finally Parikrama came on stage at around 8.30 pm (oh BTW, I'd reached there by 3 pm!)... I still wonder why they considered Led Zeppelin as the greatest psychedelic rock band ever , but the fusion that followed this statement was really awesome . I came back around 11.30 and when my land-lady asked the reasons for being late , I simply pointed out that the night was still young and left her dumbstruck.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Well enough of information .. Let's discuss some insights now. My life in pune has been a weird combination of emotional troughs& crests... I hate my job: My nature is that if i get frustrated with something , it becomes impossible for me to concentrate on that ... & i simply hate the method with which I've been asked to approach the project .. I simply hate the PG and the body-odour of my roommates. If I had to choose between a dumb brute and another who smells bad I'd probably chose the former. But I don't have much of achoice . Coz , my room mates carry both these qualities! So, I basically run away from the PG in the morning and stay out as late as possible and sometimes I feel terribly lonely and then I become angry with myself for not being able to be self contained... But then in some moments I feel so happy with my life, like for example in the concert, i felt like i was in the top of the world. I never really got much chances to be a normal 20 years old. In my home , I was surrounded by people far older than me. When i was 5, my best friend was a 17 year old young lady . Thus I grew up to be a rather precocious child. But on saturday night i just felt like shedding all that burden of maturity off and just indulge in the sheer spirit of youth and its insane enthusiasm . And i loved to be around people whom I'd hang out with in normal scenario ! It feels good if u just realize how young you are. You suddenly see a whole lot of possibility lying in front u. Remeber the famous dialogue from Shirley Valentine? "From now on whenever i'd look at the mirror , I'd never say : Oh God.. I am 45; instead I'd say : Oh Shirley , you are ONLY 45!" </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">So, when i was standing at Deccan bus stop yesterday I did some really lght hearted thinking about my life. And I discovered that I can claim to have some dexterity in sketching , singing and even though I can never express what i actually think, I can at least give it a try. And I love listening to music , reading , swimming and contemplating . That leaves me with a world full of things I am either NOT good at or have not learnt to love. What's the point of wasting time in brooding over some incidents or some persons when u've so much to do with the limited time you have in hand. So, from now on whenever I feel like brooding , I'd rather do something crazy , this world is in dire need of some sincere madness and I'll try my best to provide my share :)</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">PS. I discovered the kingdom of Narnia at the backside of my PG. On sunday morn at around 5, I got too bugged with the cackling and racket of my room mates and thus I got out of the bed, put on my sneakers and hit the road w/o even bothering to brush my teeth or change my night suit! There is this slum in the backyard of our PG and it's located in a small hill (not exactly a hill but well, one might say that the slope of the place was a bit higher than the normal slop of plains) , I've no idea what whim drove me there but i went inside and after reaching the other side of the slum, I discovered a wonder land called Vetal hills (I didn't knew the name then though, i found it later from google maps !) which is far better than any of the conventional tourist spots simply by virtue of being unexplored by the hoi polloi and thus it is still now unscathed of the bane of pollution and plastics. From now on whenever i'd feel like taking a short escape I know a wonderland which is just 18 mins away from the stinking PG of mine... So, in the end I guess all those room mates of mine whom i hate so much deserve a gregarious thanks from me. Hadn't it been for them, I'd never discover that secret wardrobe :) </span></span>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-48357066427047179802010-05-19T16:47:00.017+05:302010-12-07T22:00:55.880+05:30Business of Life<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Doesn't it seem like a dream job? 3.50 in the afternoon and I've nothing to do but to listen to music and write blogs .. I listened to hard rocks in YouTube throughout the pre lunch hours and now have decided to try a different platter: Blues. I love this woman : Norah , I mean .. It mesmerizes me how easily she expresses deepest of feelings . But I'd talk about music some other day . Today I've something else to talk about... Hold your breath girls and boys, women and men , humans and other animals, living and the deceased : cause, for the 1st time in my blog-life I m gonna talk about business. In my own sweet (!) way of course.</span><br />
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<strong><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1st Scenario : </span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Location:- Jockey Outlet , MIT</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Time:-8.45 pm , Tuesday</span></em></strong><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I went with my room-mate to help her buy a pair of jogging track-pants. I had no bloody idea which kind of help she was expecting from me and why on the 1st place she was buying one while she'd never go for jogging for sure but then again, I had nothing to do and besides; being a woman , I've an intrinsic knack towards shopping (or rather window shopping) so I accompanied her. Now, like any ignorant consumer, i was under the impression that store assistants are there only to assist , but clearly, in this store they were behaving like the Gestapo ! The key word in lingerie shopping is perhaps "Privacy", at least it is so in India . I don’t know about my room-mate but i clearly was feeling a bit uneasy when one of the shop ladies was literally breathing over my shoulder. But that at least was tolerable and can be blamed to their inability of trusting the power of CCTVs. But what the other lady did to my roommate was not only disgusting but also outright insulting ; when my room-mate had chosen a particular pair and wanted to try it out , she was told : "Ma'am (and that was pronounced as gum) , it wont suit you at all." And when even after that she was determined to try it out, the lady actually kept on insisting her to buy a large size when she was looking for medium and said ominously : " you might try out the medium size but It'd look really bad"! I was amazed at the will power of my roommate. I get easily instigated by even tiniest of trespassing in my privacy and i'd have probably sued the shop if i were at the receiving end of such comments, but my roommate actually chose to neglect them and bought not only the track pant but many other items much to the apparent dismay of the shop lady. Now, I had carefully chosen the word apparent . After all, all these shop attendants work in commission basis thus their interest is to make the browsing turn into shopping . Thus, the means taken doesn't matter at all. May be, the lady in that shop was a brilliant reader of consumer psyche and by neglecting all the CRM lessons of Kotler and other numerous marketing books she stood out to be a purple cow. Promoting sales by irking the consumer ? challenging them to try out things? You decide! I, in the meantime , will find out some other jockey showroom where the shop people wont turn out to be such as***les.</span><br />
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<strong><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2nd Scenario:- </span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Location :- An insignificant nameless Beauty Parlor near MIT</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Time:- 4.30 pm, Tuesday</span></em></strong><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Turn on any channel on your idiot box and the maximum number of personal care ads you'll come across will try to entice you to invest on the beatification of your face. Now I personally feel that my feet and not my face deserves maximum amount of my attention (Not that I give it what it deserves but then that is the story of my life, i preach things without practicing them). So, it's pretty natural that when i finally managed to get some time for myself yesterday(ie when i finally managed to move my lazy butt) , the 1st thing I decided to do was to get a Pedicure. I love to indulge into reading a delicious love story when someone else is pampering my feet. After all , at some point of our life , we all do like to be treated as princesses and not just another nameless entity in the hoi polloi being stampeded by boots and not even receiving any gesture of apology. Thus a fairy tale romance can only be appreciated in a such a scenario when the aroma of lavender pack and the titillating touch of rose petals veils the big bad world from your vision and creates the illusion of a land of happily ever after. However, in my case it was a pretty basic pedicure (ie w/o the rose petal and stuff) and actually i got a small cut in the process. Now, I am quite sturdy and not the kind who faints at the sign of RBC, but since i was paying for a service , i deliberately acted hypochondriac and ended up getting a 60% discount and a free massage. Now, the story ends here but there's an epilogue which is more important . Today , in the morning , i received a small sms which expressed concern about my cut (it was actually a scratch) and wished a quick recovery . So, they actually made use of my phone number and they didn't take it just for the heck of taking it. Result? if I ever feel the necessity of going to parlor again within these 6 weeks , I'd definitely choose this place and moreover I almost did a free WOM (WOT?) publicity of the place before i decided to hide the name of the place. Moral of the story ? Pampering works for me</span><br />
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<strong><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">3rd Scenario:- </span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Location :- Roll Club near MIT</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Time:- 10.30 pm, Tuesday</span></em></strong><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">For all you Bengalis out there (or anyone with an entrepreneurial bend of mind) here's a man who can be your inspiration. This person started his career in Nizam , climbed up the career ladder and became the GM of some restaurant and then one fine day just quit his job to open this small fast food corner with his wife as the chief chef. Now, he sells egg rolls at Rs 45/ piece and though I don't have any idea how much money he is making after paying 18000Rs rent pm for that tiny place; his life is far better than the post VRS average Indian men's lives which mainly consist of watching cricket matches and criticizing the players...!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'd wrap up with a rather sad news from my PG life. I tried washing my clothes yesterday . I.e. I dipped them in warm water and detergent at 7 pm and after coming back at around 11, I almost got a stroke. The water had disappeared from the bucket and instead the clothes were dipped in blood. Most of them died or got severely injured by then and even after ventilation and saline doses, I could not save them . Then I discovered the culprit who caused the blood-bath. It was the Hare Krishna T-Shirt my mom bought as a gift for me from Vrindavan, the ISKCON premises to be precise. The man (And I am talking about Chaitanya Mahaprabhu here) who preached non-violence throughout his life, ironically got associated with a massacre , courtesy me!</span>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-77986069188110890252010-05-17T17:47:00.012+05:302011-05-22T19:36:21.060+05:30My Weekend!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Since I've logged into gtalk today at approx 10am, I've been asked a single question by around 20 friends of mine. The question is : " How was your weekend?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, this my humble endeavor of articulating my longest weekend ever in the past 1 year;) . My Saturday morning started at 12.30 pm when, after waking up , i felt too exhausted too go outside in search of food and so , in order to deviate my thoughts away from the thought of it, i watched a medley of scenes from my favorite movies. And then I went out at around 6.30 and sat near the bus stop till 10.30 pm and called my old friends (ie , rang them for approximately 23 seconds and intimated them of my lack of balance so that they were obliged to call me back and once they did that , I showed no sign of hanging up the calls before at least an hour. Call me a parsimonious prick but trust me, if you're stuck in an alien parish and you're witnessing ur darling Saturday night getting brutally raped by a monster called depression , that's the best way you can try to save her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I did some photo shoot with my roommates after coming back. I mean I literally wanted to shoot them but changed my intention in the last moment when one of my room mate's sister came to spend her vacation here. That 19 year old beauty immediately reminded me of my childhood dream of looking like Halle Berry : u know, the tall, dark, handsome kind. She was 5' 9'' , as beautifully mysterious as night itself and had killer legs. Now, don't get me wrong . I don't consider myself a member of the pink club (though i am an ardent supporter of it) but I feel like appreciating beauty when i behold it. Especially in a country such as ours, where dusky is synonymous to disgusting , I strongly believe that singing the eulogy of such beauties is my moral obligation!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sunday morn was almost same as that of its predecessor , I left my couch at around 5.30 pm and then got up in a bus to swargate with an intention of getting down at swargate but after a telephonic conversation with Nikhil changed my mind and went to a place called saras garden. Sometimes I really feel surprised when i ponder upon the paradigm shift in my psyche post my adolescence. As a kid, I used to hate crowd , even in my early teens I felt like bringing a machine gun and obliterating all those in front of me , whenever I had to stand in a queue in a railway station. I saw the lice in their hair and the plaque in their teeth and almost sympathized with Hitler. But now all these things literally turn me on. I love the vibration of life which overflows in the atmosphere when I go to a place such as the one I had been on yesterday. Saras garden is a temple (I guess so, they were selling flowers, garlands and diyas in the entrance) enclosed by a garden. And immediately outside the entrance, there's this street fair which can be seen in no other place but India, only our country can offer such an attractive synchronization amongst apparently appalling pandemonium. Since I've come to Pune, I've noticed the Puneites' predilection towards fairs. I guess this is a trait of most of the Indian small towns. I am not sure what's the reason . Maybe it is the lack of other means of entertainment or just aversion towards shelling out big bucks for a night out in multiplexes or night clubs. Alternatively the average Indian middle class hoi polloi can probably still not morally accept the night club/ pub culture, not at least as a family destination. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But again, I am deviating from my narrative. I was determined to feel great yesterday and thus I sported a big grin throughout the evening. It's funny how you can bemuse, confuse or even offend people just by projecting an aura of contentment. "How come is she smiling when the world is accelerating towards hell?" : that was the general impression in people's face. Some even looked skeptic : " What wrong with me? Am I wearing the shirt inside out? or else why is she smiling at me?" ! One even approached me with the disgusting blunt question of : " do u wanna be my friend?" I wonder why they use such tacky one liner euphemisms when their intention is completely different but then, even the high profile recruiters do teh same. "Why did you pursue MBA after graduation?" -- " Obviously because otherwise I wont get any job you moron !" ... But you can never say that an you come up with beautiful lies. However, post that crappy question , I burst out into manic laughter and that poor man literally ran for his life being convinced that I've probably absconded from Yerwada( that's where the central prison as well as mental asylum of pune is located in)... ! Finally when I managed to reach that place at around 7, I looked up in the sky and noticed a most amazing sight. A bright star was dating the svelte moon of Akshay Tritia. I called a friend to get confirmed that that star was actually planet Venus and I called my mom who was apparently trying to call me up in the same moment seeing the same celestrial vision. Telepathy? You decide. There was a perfect symphony between the nature and us human beings. I could feel the magic in the air which was waving music out of all the cacophony. And I felt less like the name printed on my passport and more like myself, after a long time I was having a perfect date with the girl who used to be me. And then my phone rang: It was Rajesh . The poor fellow was just out of police station, lodging a complaint about his missing, rather stolen purse which contained his ATM, debit and credit cards and 1500 bucks! I felt bad for him and the entire magical atmosphere which was around me shattered like a glassball and I couldn't create the original structure again from the broken pieces. Thus I took an Auto, went to F C Road, had a scrumptiously sumptuous dinner consisting of CAD B, Chicken Lollypop , Ice Cream and Cold Coffee (honestly I had them all !) and went back to my PG at around 11. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So that's the story of my weekend, now tell me : How was yours ?!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I could go on writing the entire blog on yesterday but I have something far more interesting to write about. It is said that every person on earth has this natural instinct of searching her name in Wikipedia. I wonder why I've not done it before! Actually I wouldn't have done it even now hadn't I searched the meaning of the name of a friend's fiancée. Once I found out the meaning of her name (which basically was "daughter of the mountain), I felt like searching for that of mine. And I came across an extra-ordinarily weird entry in Wikipedia. I actually used to rule a mythical kingdom in era in some 5th century BC!!!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now let's do a comparative study between me and my syno'nym' (now, what's the word for 'persons having same name'? forgive my momentary amnesia) and find out how the later affected / influenced the former.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">• This person was a man which accounts for the male persona which catches hold of my psyche from time to time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">• From Wikipedia: "King Suchandra (Tib. Dawa Sangpo) of the northeastern Indian Kingdom of Shambhala was the one who requested teaching from the Buddha that would allow him to practice the dharma without renouncing his worldly enjoyments and responsibilities." No wonder I always keep on chucking hard work for some smarter solutions through shorter and less perilous routes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">• He established "Kalchakra (The wheel of Time) Practices and wrote a 60,000 lines long commentary describing it. The main aim of this practice was to evade the grinding machine of time. I've done the same by just choosing to ignore the neon sign hanging over my head that:" Time is running out". If u choose not to care, nothing can intimidate you, r8? Thus I don't need to write notes or create 3D sculptures. My life itself is a live 3D note right in front of ur eyes which preaches ways to avoid being smashed by the 4th dimension.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">• By practicing Kalachakra, the province of shambhala became an enlightened society with suchandra as their ruler. Thus, he virtually created an Atlantis: Even I've and please don't ask how or where. If u knew the location of Atlantis then it'd no more remain a mystery to you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">• Besides, that I've "enlightened" you guys are evident from the very fact that u never part with your fast track / ray ban glares even at 2am in the morning. After all, the blaze of your own enlightenment is too much for yourselves to bear with!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">• King Suchandra is said to be the emanation of Vajrapani (One who carries Thunderbolt in Hand): No wonder all my electronic gadgets get spoiled so quickly: it is the static energy of my hand that writes their epitaph!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So, isn't it amazing how much insight you can get about yourself just with the click of your mouse? I wish I could get insights about MSMEs (Micro, Small, and Medium Enterprises) as easily as that. That's what my project is all about: identifying TG for my company amongst them. Didn't I tell you that before? Oh! I am sure I have but that information must have got lost in translation somewhere in the way. After all it's a long way from 5th century BC Tibet to 2010 AD Pune, u see!!!</span>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-33189539659619518522010-05-13T11:50:00.012+05:302010-05-25T16:43:37.107+05:30Lapis lazuli<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Just finished eating a spring dosa from Abhisek's: d eating joint near this tiny place where i m wasting 2 precious months of my life. I never tried spring dosa before and thought that I'd like it coz i like spring rolls. BUT, I absolutely HATED it .. the taste of cabbage is still intact in my palate and it tastes like my life in this godforsaken place. BLAND...completely bland. I first blamed my depression on my hormonal misbalance due to PMS. But that for sure is not the cause. The factor causing this is actually the joke of a 'job' i am currently associated with and the horrible dungeon where i m staying at. The very air of that place can kill any living being. Take for example the bunch of roses I bought yesterday. As long as I was outside the PG, they was looking resplendent and I swear they were smiling and laughing at each others personal jokes. But the moment I entered the PG, all these changed. Their merry voices broke into desperate screams . . .The way the hapless Jews used to scream while they entered the gas chamber. It made my blood cold. I tried my best to save them : I sprayed water on them , kept them near the window to save them from the toxic air of that room. But nothing worked. All those these roses who were living so peacefully till now started a skirmish so violent that i could see hints of red blood in the petals of yellow rose buds. By the time the clock strike mid night , all these flowers were dead. killed by the evil air of my pg which led them to cannibalize each other.</span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I felt terribly fidgety and frightened. I was so happy before i came here. I dont want to die. But if that room takes less than two hours to kill innocent bunch of roses, how long will it take to finish me? And it has already started nibbling my conscience. I can feel it. I want to stay away from it as long as possible. But when night brakes into the city and no one but dogs and human canines are left in the street to greet me , I must go back to that PG and wait for my doom. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I wish I could go back to woodstock and swim in the pool. That's the only bezoar which can save me now. Swimming. When a friend of mine told me about his regular regime of swimming after the office hours, I almost turned green in envy. I need my pool now. I feel wonderful when i am floating aimlessly and serenely in the water. I feel secure. I feel like all the dimensions of time and space are lost and i've turned into a featus, as nascent and as ancient as the rising sun, floating in the assurance of her mother's amniotic fluid. But it never feels claustrophobic. It feels like the universe itself. I get freed from the bondage of my mortal body and i spread over the entire universe and beyond. I need to feel that way now. All these blood of my vein were not created to feed some evil PG. I know venom has spread in my blood from the sting of that monstrous room but I've to purify it somehow. I've come all these way. I can't afford to give up now!</span>Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2810820419317289905.post-31550368389319109422010-05-12T17:23:00.006+05:302010-05-12T18:28:14.905+05:30Remembering the RembrandtsI never had to face so much touble in deciding how to kill time. The evenings are egregiously big here. Sun never sets before 7.20 and I am having a kinda Al Pacino de la 'insomnia' syndrome while coping up with the changed schedule. I drink numerous cups of coffee/ tea in office, do nothing throughout the day except for reading movie quotes in imdb and waiting breathlessly for the watch to strike 6.30 and when it actually does, i am ecstatic for a moment or two before realizing the gruesome fact that : I'VE NOTHING TO DO. Take for instance yesterday. I started for my PG with Karan (who's my Welingkarite colleague here) but on the way I felt like i m marching towards my doom and thus I took his leave, left the main road for an insignificant boulevard and started walking aimlessly wondering how the story of my entire life is getting a materialistic reflection in my days here. Talking to my mom generally helps but her suggestion of attending "art of life" (which i refer to adding an extra f ) did nothing but making me even more insane. Thus I got into a bus and when i got down in swargate (which is one of the most important bus-stops here) , I felt like I've been time lifted to 1940s as the ghostly buildings , with their lights being turned off at 7.45 pm , looked like they are anticipating a Japanese bomb attack . And the entire atmosphere was stuffy and almost smelled like gun powder and it somehow clouded my vision. For the next 1 and a half hour I walked all the way to Pune Railway Station and even though I tried to encourage myself by uttering many a movie quotes and humming death metals ; that couldn't save me from embarrassing myself in public and all I could remember was the Friend's title track and suddenly i realized far from creating love or affection : distance ruins all emotions. Thus none of my old friends are now as close as they used to be when we used to kill our time together in nandan or mohar kunja with endless crazy discussions and observations. Talks over phn or voice chats can never replace those days. The fact that i could not contact my ex-best good friend even aggravated my vulnerability. And then i realized that this is the 1st time in my life that i m totally alone and on my own. When i stayed in B'lore some friends were always there. And when most of them went home in Diwali , I was suffering from the same kind of emotional asphyxiation. Thus at the end of the day, I guess i just need some Homo Sapiense. Doesn't mater if they understand me or not , if they care to listen to me or not : even if they are actually mere primates in the body of human beings ; I feel better when i am surrounded by some people who are at least my acquaintances. As Mr Donne said : "No man is an island". But then it's not that I always crave for company of people i know. Generally, I am a talking machine and I never faced problem in starting discussions with even complete strangers. But yesterday was one of the emotional 'bad hair day' of my life: a day where no hair gel or innovative hairstyle can arrange ur messy mane. I jsut hope my 2months' stay here wont be replete with such days. Or else, i'd surely go insane!!!Moonstruckhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04663304614784199383noreply@blogger.com1