tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49129733645419412912024-02-20T15:17:43.366+05:30Simple Nonsenses of LifeFive young freaks...
Arjun: Writes a lot of nonsense;
Aishwarya: Can come up with amazing stuff when she wants to;
Bharath: Amazingly brilliant and mind numbinglyfunny;
Maddy: Star celeb kind, Occasional contributor;
Prateek: Most elusive and serious writer among us;
Lavanya: Our sweet next-door Vampire...
Read on as we track our lives and our take on life itself!Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-19849047047536624622013-11-04T02:30:00.001+05:302013-11-04T02:30:14.767+05:30An open letter..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Dear ‘I-am-against-INTERFAITH-marriages’ parents</span></h2>
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I hope you are happy. I hope you got what you wanted. Through whatever’s left of your life, you've managed to put at least me in a state of despair. I hope you can justify my loss as your gain.</div>
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All I wanted was to marry your daughter. I come from a respectable background; have a comfortable source of income and a lifestyle that compliments your daughter’s. I have almost everything your daughter needs to be comfortable and for whatever I don’t have; I am capable of making up. I love your daughter and my feelings are reciprocated by her as well. I believe you’ll find me less credible when I profess my love but I hope you have faith in your daughter and her choices. I assure you and I think you also know that you have nothing that can be a reason for an ulterior motive for me, so let’s get that out of the picture right now.</div>
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You might be smirking when I say that I love your daughter. You think that’s not good enough a reason to give your daughter away to someone. There are other things to be accounted for. Like religion and community. According to you, it’s the pillar that supports the entire institution of marriage and being together. You've been a part of it. You've done the same thing and you are happy right now. If a man and a woman worship different gods, they are forbidden to be together by divine laws. God doesn't want this.</div>
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Well, let me shatter your miserable tenets for you. If you think religion is the pillar for a good and successful marriage, I am sorry to say that you have spent your entire life living on a belief that doesn't amount to anything. I can say, with certainty, that you haven’t understood what religion is. You treat Gods as kings and start fights over it, fights where no one wins. You rejected me as a prospect for your daughter just because I am not from your community. It’s actually validating that you see other communities as inferior to yours and you cry ‘muddling’ when someone like me falls for someone like your daughter. Who gave you the right to treat me like a second fiddle to the human existence?</div>
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I find it ridiculous that, in this day and age, you consider religion and community to be a dividing factor. I find it absolutely hypocritical on your part to take the Indian National Pledge where you say “India is my country. All Indians are my brothers and sisters.” as you don’t believe in any of it.</div>
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I urge you to come forward and tell me what exactly my community is lacking, which makes you go vehemently in opposition of us being together. In fact, please tell me on what grounds am I not suitable for your daughter? Compare me with men from your community and tell me if they possess something extra.</div>
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- Men in your community have pure genes.</div>
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I request you to take a few bio lessons to know how your intra-community mingling is taking a toll on your community’s genetics and how imperfect it has become.</div>
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- There’s a vast cultural difference.</div>
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Let me inform you that all the cultures eventually practice the same thing. You have different customs and festivals but you are the only one who brings in a gap between them and me. Let me tell you that I've been learning about your culture and customs ever since I met your daughter. That’s my effort to make her feel at home and be involved. If that’s not what you do for your loved ones then I’d really like to hear more on it from you.</div>
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- Marrying your daughter to my community will make her have to adjust and compromise everywhere.</div>
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I believe you’d expect that in our pseudo-male society, a woman has to adjust and compromise. But because you never tried to get to know me, you don’t know that I don’t agree with the concept. I am a believer of social equality of men and women in each and every aspect of life. My wife, irrespective of her religion, community or lifestyle, will not be the only one to compromise or adjust. To marry someone and spend a lifetime together means a series of compromises and lessons taken together. You make efforts to make the other comfortable and happy. ( P.S. If you have been expecting your wife to make extra efforts then I pity you.) This is not a patriarchal society and women do not have to sacrifice.</div>
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- In every religion interfaith marriages are prohibited.</div>
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What does religion have to do with marriage? If you say its prohibited to marry someone who doesn't worship your god, you are practically defying the concept of one god, the concept of “God is the One Eternal Being”. I’d love to see you try and come up with a justification for the concept that the god you follow is only a god for you and is not just another variation of what we have perceived god to be. This leads to the very religious version of “My dad can kick your dad’s ass”.</div>
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- Suffering of women when inter-faith marriages fail.</div>
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Did you ever think about suffering of women in general? Are you saying women, in general, don’t suffer? Who suffers when a same faith marriage fails? You can’t be suggesting that same faith marriages do not fail. You can pull up the stats for failed marriages for your community. Faith has nothing to do with women suffering and failed marriages.</div>
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- Lack of religious instructions or education on what marriage means in your community/religion?</div>
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The state of matrimony has always been regarded as the most important part of life by all. It is clearly stated that god is better pleased with a married man than with an unmarried one, and that She/He is better pleased with a man having progeny than with one who has none. It has always been regarded as the bounden duty of an individual to marry and to bring up a family.</div>
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How does that differ among different religions? You may add the clause to marry within the faith to continue race and religion. To continue race is logical but eventually it’s going to fail. I don’t think that you see the bigger picture. To continue religion, is a feeble attempt to induce faith forcefully. If one has faith one has religion.</div>
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- If your daughter believes in her religion, she shouldn't marry a man from other faith?</div>
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That is so sexist. Why does a woman get questioned about her faith if she marries a man from other faith? How do you grade the religious belief and inclination towards God? For all you know the man from your religion/community, your daughter is to marry, doesn't believe in religion at all. Does that qualify the marriage as successful? As far as I see it, culture can’t be married to. Religion is no grounds to marry someone. Race continues if you stop making people social outcasts. Rigidity will eat up the community, as it is doing right now.</div>
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- Men in your community are better than I or at least of the same capability.</div>
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Please. You didn't even take an effort to get to know me. You started beating your age old drum of race and community and religion and rejected the idea. For all you know I can be way better than what you want for your daughter.</div>
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I am not even sure if you are a wee bit concerned about your daughter’s life and happiness. Or you are living in denial. Thinking you can make all the choices for her and she’ll be happy with each and all of them is your biggest mistake. All you are doing is clutching her tighter and suffocating her. You make her a prisoner in her own house. You kill her free will and spirit. You fail to see how hurt she is because you are blinded by your self-righteous faith, religion and fanaticism. What did you ever get out of hurting your own daughter like that? Killed her emotions and burned them on the pyre of logic and reason. Do you believe you can save your community by sacrificing your daughter’s or for that matter my happiness? Well you are terribly wrong.</div>
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You have made a decision which doesn't impact you directly. Just to follow some tenets laid by some weirdo, who injected your brains with the notion that inter-faith ties are not right, you have effortlessly killed two people’s hopes, shattered their dreams and put them through the helplessness of no choice. You suddenly felt commanding and strong when you ruled against our love and threatened your daughter of abandonment. Let me tell that you have done the most cowardly thing you ever could have done.</div>
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You should understand that you don’t have to blindly force us into things. You had your own reasons for doing things the way you did. The world is changing very rapidly. Change can be good. Embrace good change and chances will come your way. Also see that the world’s axis of power is moving from the OLD to the NEW. Understand this. Stop making religion/community as your ultimate goal. You will pay dearly for this mistake. I have spoken to so many people and it is shocking to see that their thinking hasn't aged from the 50′s! But it is not the 50's. You should realize that you have only one daughter. Instead of the love for community, give preference to the love for your daughter. Understand where her happiness lies and not the society’s. You make the society and community, don’t let it make you.</div>
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But alas…! You have taken a decision and warned your daughter of dire consequences. You force her to meet men from your community. She does. Have you even realized how pathetic the situation that is. If she had found anyone remotely good, she’d have given it a chance. But you are happy in your dream-world where you think you have chosen the best path for your young and they are happy. Wake up. You are forcing things down our throats. You have forced us to accept things which we don’t agree with. You still believe that we are naive and you have seen the world and that’s how you know better. You don’t. Parents, you take yourself too seriously. You cross the limits when you try to balance happiness against religion. You didn't do very well. In fact you failed terribly.</div>
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I wish you feel the pain I am going through. I wish you’d wake up in the middle of the night with a headache and then never go back to sleep. I wish you’d get lost in the middle of a conversation as all you could think about is how you've lost the best thing that has ever happened to you because you have god issues. I wish you break down in the middle of a party just because someone with a screwed up view of religion and community, stuck in the head, has ruled against love. I hope you realize that your daughter is not happy and is terribly hurt. I wish you suffocate the way she is suffocating in the tight grip of your patriarchal beliefs and your senseless tenets. I wish you to be troubled knowing that there’s at least one person, suffering because of you and you were wrong.</div>
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I wish you pain. Remember… There is no GOD for PAIN.</div>
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Take care,</div>
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A really pissed off guy.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-79589645286903326172013-01-01T04:59:00.002+05:302013-01-01T04:59:44.703+05:30Existential crisis...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Why are you here?<br />
Ever wondered about the purpose of your existence?<br />
Ever tried to look beyond the regular banal life that you live?<br />
Instead of claiming to know who created you, did you ever think about why you were created?<br />
<br />
Or you are just the kind to do what you have been told.<br />
The kind who can't find an identity of your own.<br />
The kind who can't fight the hands that mold you in whatever way they want to.<br />
You must be the one without any structure.<br />
<br />
Are you the one who goes to work and comes back home and thinks about the next day at work?<br />
Did you ever gaze into the sky and wonder?<br />
Did you ever think, for a moment, that you are not a puppet of the people?<br />
Have you accepted things into your life because you are too afraid to ask questions and seek explanations?<br />
<br />
Do you believe in God?<br />
Do you have blind faith?<br />
Are you superstitious?<br />
Do you have the power of logical thought or are you just a tape recorder?<br />
<br />
You are the one who laughs at the beliefs of all the other people and gets boiling mad when someone makes fun of yours. The ones that aren't even yours.<br />
You never had any problems with others telling you who you are. You live by what you've been told.<br />
You have closed eyes and you are a slave. They bred you to be a follower, so you follow.<br />
You are the sheep. A black one because you can't think.<br />
You are the scum on the face of the earth.<br />
You are the one who fights for things inconsequential and backs out and hides when it matters.<br />
<br />
You have their words in your mouth and their motives for your actions.<br />
Even the voices in your head aren't yours.<br />
You never asked yourself who you are.<br />
You just seek approval and never try to walk your own path.<br />
You are the reason for the stagnation.<br />
<br />
Why do you not wonder?<br />
When did evolution fail you?<br />
You act condescending in front of the cattle but are you any better?<br />
What did you want to be, a sheep or a lion?<br />
Were you ever human or just an organ of their ways?<br />
Why did you let them decide your fate and strangle you in their worldly ties?<br />
Who are they to take away your individuality and how can you let them?<br />
<br />
If you are just a medium of their actions, you should stop burdening the earth.<br />
If you can't contribute, you should stop consuming.<br />
If you can't lead, you should stop preaching.<br />
If you can't find your own way, you should stop guiding.<br />
<br />
You are gutless, spineless blob of life on which life itself is wasted.<br />
<br />
Why did you go to school when all you learned is to have a closed mind?<br />
Why do you make friends when you can't survive outside your family?<br />
Why do you want to travel when you are afraid of the new?<br />
Why do you dream when you have sold your desire?<br />
<br />
Can you choose to fight your own battles?<br />
Can you stop and wonder why there are Gods uncountable and if different religion could be different versions of each other?<br />
Can you fathom the fact that you may have no invisible man in the sky to guide you and the voices you hear in your head are pure bullshit or paranoia?<br />
Can you be logical and rational and take someone else's view into consideration without throwing fits of angry hyperbole?<br />
Can you think for yourself, analyze, calculate and take a decision unadulterated by external influences?<br />
Can you be human and and not be cattle?<br />
Can you gather courage and break free?<br />
Can you stop following and start living?<br />
<br />
Or do I have to continue looking at you live a pathetic existence, with no ambition, you hoping that you are really important to someone, when all you are is a big failure in the name of humans and free will?<br />
<br />
For your sake I hope all your fairy tales come true and you meet with a God that does exist, and when you meet her/him, she/he will look down upon you and will sob on her/his own failure as a creator.<br />
<br />
I wish,<br />
if you are a believer in a patriarchal society/religion, your god be a woman, a feminist.<br />
if you have worshiped a white god, your god be pitch dark.<br />
if you think your religion doesn't allow people from other religion into yours, your god be a mixed race.<br />
if you hate homosexuals, your god be a gay.<br />
if you hate technology, your god be a scientist.<br />
if you believe in constraining yourself and others to rigid tenets and unwritten illogical views and senseless practices, your god be free will and pure logic.<br />
if you like to kill, your god be life.<br />
if you are an atheist, there be a god.<br />
if you are a theist, your god be another human with captivating orating skills, strong convincing power and lot of morons like you to follow.<br />
<br />
I hope you suffer for having a closed mind.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-21637572997277074602012-09-26T16:50:00.002+05:302012-09-26T16:50:52.250+05:30Anger Issues<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Back in school we had an interesting book called "Toorida Chintanegalu", (roughly, Entered Thoughts). This book had an extremely interesting portion which dealt with the sins, among which were Anger, Lust, Attachment and others. Why i remember this now, i cannot tell with certainty, but i suppose it should be there.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I think there is something about the nature of Anger which makes us angry. Anger is a response to an undesirable occurrence or event. Like when a bird craps on your head. That makes us angry. You know what else makes me angry, angry people. Angry people make me want to grab their throats, twist it, shout at them "LOOK!! LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!!" all the while spraying them with spit and curses. I just made my point redundant. Practice what you preach you know, but screw that for now anyway.<br />
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Thing is, you can get as angry as you want for mundane things (Stuff like, My toast is burnt and now i have to eat cardboard). But it makes absolutely no sense to get angry about things you have no cause to be angry about. Like religion for instance. And politics. Especially religious politics. Or a political religion.You get the hang of it.<br />
<br />
The Buddha, among other people who practiced and preached an unnatural amount of calmness and did away with the red face and compulsive swearing advocated you clear your mind and be open. To remember that something that is happening is all a part of karma(I am pretty sure he never called it a bitch). I tried. No, really, i tried. I made my mind blank, concentrated on a little bird in a peaceful place and promptly got irritated with the little bird which refused to shut up or go away and hurled the choicest curses at it, shooed it away, stared blankly at the peaceful place(In this case a forest in which everything tasted miraculously like chocolate and bacon) and fell asleep, mind blank and all. I woke up an hour later cursing the mind and it's blank state( State? Slate?).<br />
<br />
I read a lot on the news about how someone is always angry at someone or the other. "That man is a foreign son of a what not!" screamed one person who had recently come back from a junket abroad. "Their brand of terrorism is deep rooted and blah hemm haww blah!" screamed the foreign Indian who had come under fire, completely forgetting that terrorism is not underwear to have a brand or color. I then thought of what made men, wolves or the other way round. No reason for these men to be angry at each other at all, but i suppose they do it to make the people angry and basically keep everyone red faced and spewing venom and pelting stones at each other.<br />
<br />
Not to mention the "My god is great" brigade. It's like a gladiatorial contest i believe, where the god(s) bet money on the least number of people killed who are shouting a particular slogan or something. Screw you!, the people in warring factions tell each other. My god created all of us, and you besmirch his good name with your wailing and flailing and unwholesome jokes. Their gods, it seems have the worst sense of humor ever had among gods and humans and whatever other beings are caught in perennial conflict. Science, i am happy to say, might be eating popcorn in a self righteous and wholly pretentious(read douche and deplorable) way being proved right all the time. Every right to get angry these people have ,with science. Murder science i say, and regress to barbarism. Lot less things to worry about.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, my attention is wandering as is bound to happen with my generation with its's endless distractions and i refuse to get continue writing about anger and other things now because i can see out of my window a cat which for reasons known to itself, wants to get into a house loudly playing a soap where the daughter-in-law no doubt, buys tears and puts them in tanks to empty on a daily basis in front of the family which seems to be in the throes of the most impossible and endless crisis most of the time. That makes me angry.</div>
drknglhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01998745631064495356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-91207912295883496742012-09-26T16:07:00.002+05:302012-09-26T16:07:11.413+05:30The Orator<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I mean to put a lot in here metaphorically speaking. You can take this at face value, dig a little deeper, peel off another layer. For me, i see it in three ways. <br />
<br />
<br />
Nowhere in any corner of the world was to be found,<br />an orator as great as he.<br />Him with his speeches and fiery words,<br />the gift of speech, the power to wield.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Great aplomb it was said he had,<br />in full measure too, no less.<br />People flocked in large numbers,<br />to hear his speech, the masses of sheep.<div>
<br /></div>
With that golden tongue he rent asunder,<br />many an ego, reputations he plundered.<br />Quaking and quailing before one such as he,<br />reduced to jelly, even in one's dream.<div>
<br /></div>
All was not well with the orator of fame,<br />alone was he, on his throne of flame.<br />For naught was his words, his speech, his guile,<br />so hard he sought the love of his life.<div>
<br /></div>
One day he did come by, this girl<br />he thought that could ruin his life.<br />He wanted to go some place it seemed,<br />he asked her so, as if in a dream.<div>
<br /></div>
She nodded her head and pointed straight,<br />with just her hand she told him the way.<br />'Can you not speak now? Come!' said he.<br />She shook her head and went, he saw until he could see.<div>
<br /></div>
Curious he found this meet with her,<br />him with his fire and passion untethered.<br />That one who could speak not but a word,<br />could make him mute, how absurd!<div>
<br /></div>
That day it was said the flame was out,<br />a pity sprang where there was none.<br />He yearned for naught, but a simple glance,<br />from that mute girl he met by chance.<div>
<br /></div>
Gone were his words, his cause, his speech,<br />Gone where the crowds who bayed tat his feet!<br />Utter ruin it was said, invite did he,<br />But none knew what went wrong, with his spiteful speak.<div>
<br /></div>
He knew then what he wanted to do,<br />leave rabble rousing, that was empty too.<br />Turned to ashes were his conviction,him with the mastery of speech,<br />In the end the comfort he sought, solace in silence did he seek.
</div>
drknglhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01998745631064495356noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-20819833798046149402012-07-07T12:40:00.001+05:302012-07-07T12:40:06.343+05:30My furry friends.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was having this conversation with a friend earlier today about how I
want a pet giraffe. Animals and me have an underwhelming connection. <br />
<br />
I
remember the first one that I got close to was Johhny the dog.
Incidentally, he wasn't ours. He was my neighbour's dog. A stray, but
very docile. For a long time I used to be terrified of him, but one day
when he sneaked into our garden, dad fed him biscuits. Then I did too,
and we became friends. Everyday after school when my auto dropped me off
he would be waiting near the gate for me to let him in. My school auto
ran on a partial mix of kerosene so when I got back home I would be
stinking of sweat, motor oil, kerosene and lord knows what other
substance fueled the auto. But he was the only one who dint seem to
mind. <br />
<br />
One fine day the neighbours (not very friendly
ones) dint let him out, I still dont know why. Johnny jumped the
compound and got in. Nobody believed me though. They thought I freed
him. After a couple of days they put him in their car and drove away.
Johnny never came back after that.<br />
<br />
A couple of years
later during school lunch break, me and some of my classmates went
exploring in the wilderness. Yes there was a sort of wilderness in our
school grounds, proper forest sort, with bamboo and teakwook trees. In
one trench we found a dead dog and some of her just born puppies.
Immediately I fell in love with a particular black one. It was an epic
week, every break 5 of us running to that spot with food to feed the
litter. One day I took one pup home, concealed in my lunch basket.<br />
<br />
Mom had a fit. <br />
<br />
At
that time, I dint understand the fact that a purely vegetarian family
of 3, living in a first floor house, with all of us absent in the house
for most of the day was not an ideal place for a dog. Dad gave an
option. Either I had to stay in the house, or the dog. I, being the
selfish ass that I am, chose me. So I saw as the puppy was given away to
a friend of dad who had a farm. <br />
<br />
(If you said ee-aah-ee-aah-oh in your head, here is a highest of Fives for you)<br />
<br />
The
next year, my school played host to a flock of strange white birds. Me
and my friend Harsha spent that year during breaks trying to chase and
capture one of them. We called it, very intelligently, the
kakaokakkkak-KAkk birds. <br />
<br />
In 9th standard, my friend
Abhijith got me a fighter fish. Unlike other fishes, this one required
no maintainence at all. I remember emptying a Bournvita Jar (yes, kids..
bornvita used to come in Glass jars then) and put him in it. His
primary diet was mosquitoes. My dad named him Solle-Kyatha. (My kannada
friends will get it)<br />
<br />
Abhijith said that the fighter was
expected to live for about 3 to 4 weeks. Kyatha survived for 2 and a
half years. I remember when we shifted to our present house, I sat in
the truck with his pearl-pet mansion in my lap.<br />
<br />
I dint
mention that after Johnny, I was terrified of dogs again. The constant
reports of how some strays mauled some kids did not help. It was until
when I was reading The Alchemist, I think. Paulo Coehlo makes a very
interesting point about animal's intelligence and how they assess you.
It's in the eye contact, he says.<br />
<br />
After that, I used to
feed some strays near my house. one dog got a little friendly and set up
territory near my house. I used to sit out on the cement in the
evening, and she used to come sit with me. I used to talk to her and she
seemed to understand.<br />
<br />
One night I came home late
(perfectly sober) and she barked at me and chased me till the end of my
road. ME, who fed her and gave her company. Now cat lovers will be
smirking, and the dog camp will come up with the theory that she was
somehow protecting my house. I take no stand. <br />
<br />
After then
I haven't had any pets. Just some animals that I'm friends with here
and there. There is a nice ginger cat at Lemon Tree who I named
venktesha, and his black friend ChintamaNi. <br />
<br />
That brings
me back to how I was telling my friend I'm going to have a pet Giraffe
and how I'm going to name him Jeff. You know, to accompany the more
Imaginary MuraLi The Silly Crocodile.<br />
<br />
She suggested I write a Note about it, so here it is. This one is for you, you know who you are ;)</div>Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-83141236896830113132012-07-07T12:39:00.000+05:302012-07-07T12:39:15.969+05:30Stationery troubles<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I lost my pen in office today. Probably borrowed by a colleague or
rolled behind the CPU and the forest of wires that I suspect is actually
the portal to a secret universe.<br />
I have lost pens before, that
sent me crashing back through memory lane, to when I was in 3rd standard
or so. I had the reputation of losing a lot of pencils in school. I
swear, I have no idea how I managed. I had a nice pencil box. It was
green, with two layers i still remember. But everyday by the time I got
home, I remember never having my pencils.<br />
<br />
I remember one
particular time when my dad, tired of the constant irresponsiblity
refused to buy me new pencils. He said I wouldnt be going bak to school
tomorrow and suggested I work at the cycle shop and earn money the hard
way. (Yes, we had cycle shops back then, hand operated pumps, 50ps per
tyre)<br />
I remember losing it completely and I remember my aged
neighbour consoled me, and secretly gave me an old pencil that used to
belong to her daughter. She had kept it for memory's sake. She made me
promise that I would take good care of it and show my parents how
responsible I was.<br />
<br />
I lost it the next day.<br />
<br />
The
next year, If i remember correctly, brought a new miracle to my life.
The blessed new Micro-Tip pencil. I remember I was the first one in my
class to start using it. My otherwise atrocious handwriting suddenly
seemed a lot more bearable when I sarted writing with it. The catch was
that I was NEVER allowed to take it to school with me. My teachers were
all praise for my marked improvement, and one of them suggested I use
that pencil to answer an upcoming unit test.<br />
<br />
My mother
was really hesitant to let me take the pencil to school, but again, i
promised I wouldn't lose it no matter what. They finally relented and I
was full of joy. I remember I dint put it in my pencil case, but in the
shirt pocket. Come on, I was grown up, and I carry my pencil like a
grown up would.<br />
<br />
While walking down to the assembly that
morning I had the irresistable urge to look over the first floor guard
rail to see how many people would admire my pencil today.<br />
<br />
Let's just say I dint write the test very well.<br />
<br />
Fifth
standard, and we were allowed to use Pens. HERO Fountain pens were all
the rage, and I'm sure every one of you has gone to class one fine
morning, opened the pencil box (now with pens) opened your pens and
found it leaked. I always used my necktie to wipe it off. Quite a few
times, the tie has transferred the ink to my white shirt.<br />
<br />
In
sixth standard, the world changed again with the arrival of the "Gel"
pen. Coming to school with ADD Gel was equivalent to driving a Ferrari
to school. Dot pens were for sissies. Needless to say, I pleaded and
pleaded and got an ADD Gel.<br />
<br />
I never lost the pen, but the bitch ran out of ink in 4 days.<br />
<br />
Things
have worked out better for me after those years, I managed not to piss
off my parents anymore with my stationery troubles. Though I will admit i
have never been able to keep a scale and eraser with me for more than a
week. I always used a protractor or set squares or anything with a
straight edge to make up for it. Admit it, you've done it too.<br />
<br />
I
still think of what happened to all my pencils and other stuff and I
hope whoever found it made good use of it and will in the future build a
lightsaber or something. Or rot in hell, you know. Either. </div>Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-78937602606538304812012-07-07T12:38:00.000+05:302012-07-07T12:38:25.951+05:30A hair raising experience..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, i've just finished college. Yes finished for good. Mysore
University has churned out yet another (temporarily) unemployed
graduate. This means that I get to be home a lot more. That also means I
get to watch TV!<br />
<br />
For people who do not know me very well,
I don't really like TV very much. I never bothered for a very long
time. Until dad went and procured a huge-ass flat screen Bravia.<br />
<br />
Our comically dysfunctional family means that we all eat at different times, and that means I get to eat alone often.<br />
<br />
In
these dreadful times, I turn to the TV for solace. To help me sail
through solitary meals. The DTH system means that I can group my
favorite channels in a clump. So I've set Discovery, NGC, Fox Traveler,
Discovery Science and Discovery Turbo in one series. This usually gives
me the half hour fix of things that I'm really interested in.<br />
<br />
But every average half hour that I sit down to watch TV also includes the almost 15 minutes of commercials. They wreck my brain.<br />
<br />
Seriously,
ten minutes into these commercials and any non earth inhabitor (i dint
want to say aliens) can be convinced that all of life's problems include
being too dark, having bad hair and incredibly, more hair related
problems.<br />
<br />
Earlier, it was only women who would scream and
faint on-screen if they ever so much as had a pimple. Now we have to
endure John Abraham in a spandex running outdoors and teaching you how
to be fair.<br />
<br />
Then there is the supposed tennis pro, Anu,
who refused to wear "tennis dress" in a match BECAUSE HER FRICKIN SKIN
TONE DID NOT MATCH HER FACE. Hang on a minute, lets deconstruct this. So
common knowledge says that the parts of the body always covered tend to
be slightly fairer. But aha, this woman's face, being ravaged by creams
for so many years manages to turn whiter than them places where the sun
dont shine. Oh and the solution propounded is not to just stop
bleaching her face. Surprise, there is a new "revolutionary" product
that combines everything of everything that makes her shed her
inhibitions to wear "tennis dress". I will dare vaseline body lotion my
eternal servitude if they get Multiple grand slam winner Venus or Serena
Williams to promote this same tennis wala package.<br />
<br />
Super
mutant Hair that is used to pull an ambulance out of a ditch? Why do
they think that we all think our scalps are a war zone that need
"repairing"?<br />
<br />
A sunscreen combined with whitening lotion?
WTF is whitening anyway. WHY on earth would you want to look like you've
just seen a Ghost?<br />
<br />
The absolute last straw - sometime ago
during breakfast I saw an ad for a deo. Not the supposed attracting and
spontaneous sex-inducing types.(that's not true, btw, i've tried) No
no, this one is far more pointless. This one whitens your armpits
apparently.<br />
<br />
I dont want to live on this planet anymore.</div>Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-55748935360781767782012-07-07T12:33:00.000+05:302012-07-07T12:33:41.119+05:30Hall of Fame..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Located about seven kilometres out of Leh on the Kargil-Leh highway
is the nondescript “hall of fame”. Well, you might think that it’s a
place where they glorified the famous people of this region and
garlanded statues of them, politicians and the like. I thought it was
like that too as I got on my boss’s Royal Enfield headed out to this
place.<br />
The first sign that I was wrong was that it is located
between a transit camp of the 127 KAR rifles regiment of the Indian army
and the airforce base of Leh. Also flanking the entrance are two
Howitzer cannons, in army livery. The ticket issue clerk was in full
army fatigues.<br />
<br />
It’s a war memorial.<br />
<br />
The
entrance is unassuming but one visit to this little building and it will
change your life forever. A nominal charge of ten bucks per person gets
you in and you see a plaster of paris terrain recreation of the entire
trans Himalayan ranges- the lower, zanskar and everything else up to
karakoram and then you begin to appreciate the forces of the tectonic
plates when they collided and resulted in this crazy landscape. The
nubra, zanskar and Indus rivers hop along as rapids and provide life to
this otherwise desert surroundings.<br />
<br />
I thought this bit of
information was out-of-place in a war memorial, but I was wrong yet
again. The sheer magnitude of everything- altitude, tempertures,
approach roads and borders are what separates this battlefield from
anywhere else in the world.<br />
<br />
I entered the room dedicated
to operation Vijay. Commonly known to us as the Kargil conflict, this
room provides all the details of the exercise. The dates, the timings,
the regiments involved and the manner in which it was carried out.
Essentially, they mention the folks that they were fighting against as
just “the enemy” and the “illegal occupiers”.<br />
<br />
Some of you
might recall the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan, where the US
soldiers capture beach heads in Normandy, France. Now imagine a much
smaller army unit capturing a much higher post in temperatures 30
degrees below freezing and up against much better and accurate artillery
fire.<br />
<br />
Yes, the Indian army kicked a lot of ass and the
stories of those soldiers who were awarded gallantry awards (some
posthumously) are displayed in this hall, under the head “lest we
forget…” forget? Not in a million years!<br />
<br />
We find the
stories of ordinary 24 to 27 year old men from all around the country
irrespective of state or caste who fought alongside each other to secure
the borders. If these stories don’t make you feel worthless, then
you’re the most pompous ass to ever breathe god’s good air.<br />
<br />
After
a while of going through those accounts and imagining the conditions
you’re trying very hard not to cry openly but the slogans and the
atmosphere they create there gives you a very formidable challenge.
Suddenly you glance at a slogan board that reads –<br />
<br />
“Quartered in snow, Silent to remain. When the bugle calls, They shall rise and march again…”<br />
<br />
But
perhaps what is most likely to get that lump in the throat unbearable
is this exhibit, which I will reproduce here. Please do be patient and
try and understand the feelings of this 22 year old –<br />
<br />
THE LAST POST…<br />
Capt
VijayantThapar, 22, died trying to evict Pakistani intruders from a
ridge in Kargil on 28 June, 1999. This is the letter he wrote to his
parents days before he made the ultimate scrifice:<br />
(in a beautiful jointed writing on a blue inland letter)<br />
<br />
<i>Dear Papa Mama Budhi and Gummy,</i><br />
<br />
<ol>
<li><i>By the time you get this letter I’ll be observing you all from the sky enjoying the hospitality of Apsaris. </i></li>
<li><i>I have no regrets, in fact, even if I become human again I’ll join the army and fight for my nation.</i></li>
<li><i>If you can, please come and see where the Indian army fought for your tomorrow.</i></li>
<li><i>As
far as the unit is concerned, the new chaps should be told about this
sacrifice. I hope my photo will be kept in the ‘A’ company mandir with
Karni Mata.</i></li>
<li><i>Whatever again can be done should be done.</i></li>
<li><i>Contribute some money to orphanage and keep on giving 50/- Rs to Ruksana per month and meet Yogi Baba.</i></li>
<li><i>Best
of luck to Birdie, never forget the sacrifice of these men. Papa you
should feel proud. Mama so should you, meet (name deleted) I loved her.
Mama ji forgive me for everything wrong I did. </i></li>
</ol>
<i>Ok then, its time for me to join my clan of the Dirty dozen, my assault party has 12 chaps.</i><br />
<i>Best of luck to you all,</i><br />
<i>Live life King size.</i><br />
<i>Yours,</i><br />
…<br />
<br />
Father’s message:<br />
<i>Son,</i><br />
<i>The
brave way you left this world at the age of 22 is a measure of how you
lived your short life and what you valued. In meeting the stark
challenges of capturing Knoll against all odds, during the battle of
Three Pimples with heroic coolness and single minded devotion to duty,
you have achieved immortal honour. In death, you hve epitomized the
spirit of national pride- an honor which makes every sacrifice
worthwhile. Your actions will forever inspire generations of Indians to
come. You have left us with pride for being the parents of a worthy son
and a lifetime of pain for having lost a child we love.</i><br />
<i>-</i><br />
<i>Col. V.N. Thapar.</i><br />
<br />
With
great difficulty, I managed to wipe my eyes and walked out behind to
the little park that has the memorial stone and the Indian tricolor
flying proudly over the names of those martyred for the country’s cause.
The writing on the foot of the memorial –<br />
<br />
<br />
ALMIGHTY LORD, IN THY GRACIOUS KEEPING,<br />
LEAVE WE OUR SOLDIERS SLEEPING<br />
<br />
Please
take some time off and reflect on the amazing feats carried out
everyday by these silent sentinels of the borders. I’m a changed person,
are you?<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="photo_right"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://fbcdn-photos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/268814_10150220381195095_7007980_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="photo_img img" src="https://fbcdn-photos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/268814_10150220381195095_7007980_a.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="caption">
"In loving memory of those that who set out to serve the nation and did not return... Ladakh, 1947".</div>
</div>Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-8580214752591618622012-07-07T12:31:00.002+05:302012-07-07T12:33:30.663+05:30Of journeys and destinations...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix">
<div>
The road is a person.
She has many different personalities. She starts out from Manali being
very gentle and embracing, very inviting yet promising nothing. She
defends her territory and tests the traveler physically and mentally.
She must have been particularly cross the day I tried to go over, she
put 6 tonnes of rock and gravel between me and my path.<br />
<br />
It
was probably a good thing because I woke up to the best view ever.
Looking at the snow capped mountain ranges through the foggy window
first thing in the morning was quite an experience. Human resilience
soon prevailed and I was on my way again. Throughout the day she
rewarded me with fantastic views of the pass, a stream accompanying the
road all the time. Later on during the day , she began to take away my
air.<br />
<br />
Altitude sickness can affect anyone, and it affects
different people differently. How differently did it affect me? Well let
me tell you, being sick on a night when the temperature is just
touching minus 9 degrees with just a canvas tent and a few rugs to keep
the cold out on a day that you haven't eaten much, other than an omelet
and few chocolate bars is not the most pleasant experience in the world.<br />
<br />
Next
morning arrived and suddenly she was as cruel as ever snowing at us and
forcing us to slow the descent from the second highest pass on the way.
I barely managed to survive Tanglang La and was ever so grateful when
the plains were back.<br />
<br />
The final hundred kilometers into
Leh is the best stretch, where she is a playful dainty lass, partly
tamed by the BRO. Signs on the highway read like “be slow on my curves”
and “not so fast darling” probably issued by an officer who shares a
love-hate relationship with this highway. They toil day in and day out
to keep her tantrums at bay and not to put people at risk. She has taken
many lives over the years, a sad way to go. The border security force,
the Trishul regiment also has a major presence on this stretch. One of
their signboards read “when you get home, tell them of us. For their
tomorrow we gave our today”. Indeed I will tell anyone who cares, they
are doing the most selfless daring and outstanding service and we simply
can’t thank them enough.<br />
<br />
Finally after testing you and
pushing your boundaries to the limit, she gives up her treasure. Leh is
one of the last few places on Earth where you can have a relaxing time.
Where the air is unpolluted and where attitudes are that of a welcoming
open culture. The landscape of this place cannot be described in words
and has only to be experienced. I will go so far as to say it is unlike
anything else in the world.<br />
<br />
These three days I spent on
the road has left me rattled and shaken. The time I spent in Pang was
the first time I ever wondered if I would make it through the night. But
then I find that little memories of the people closest to me all over
the world and their daily battles and the way they face it always picked
me up and the faith always remained.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
They say it’s more about the
journey than the destination, but I’ve always felt that the destination
must justify the perils and knocking of the journey. That night I
wondered to myself if it was worth putting me through this torture, and
if it was worth being like this on the very first time that I left home
for work. Once I reached here I realized that the journey has changed
me. I appreciate better the value of human life and how helpless we are
in the face of mommy nature’s will. I have begun to infinitely respect
the armed forces and the other people who strive to make this place a
better destination. I thank a million times silently the complete
stranger who listened to my feelings and gave me some medications to
ease the pain. I miss the pampering only-son treatment I got back home,
but I have also learnt to establish well in a new place and get to know
the attitudes of the people.<br />
<br />
I traveled almost 4000 km in
getting here. I experienced the terrible nonsense of an attitude from
the information counter at Indira Gandhi International Airport and also
the legendary Ladakhi hospitality from Ammo and Dawa my adopted parents
here in Leh. It has been a very taxing journey and the landscapes have
been as different and varied as one can comprehend.<br />
<br />
Yet as
I sit here on the banks of the river that gives this glorious country
its name, I feel a single tear leave my left eye and I cant help but
think, my India…India Incredible...<br />
<br />
<br />
-TomCat<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-40114693116663642252012-07-07T12:29:00.001+05:302012-07-07T12:29:09.309+05:30Women's day Ranting :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I never got the point of “days”. It’s the 8th of March and somehow is
also designated International Women’s Day. I used to think why is it
that only on that particular day we all get gung ho about whatever it is
that we are supposed to be celebrating and then forget it till the next
time the “day” came around. You might remember I wrote about it on
valentine’s day. That particular note got most people excited about the
stuffed lizard thingy, but then there was this one thought by a friend
which in turn got me thinking - and I quote –<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
“<em>well
what you say is true,you don't feel more love for someone on certain
days, but ever so often we forget to telll the people who make our lives
special that we love them(barring a few exceptions of course!) and lets
face it, those are words any sane person would love to hear(i know i
loved it when i read your note!!=)). Valentines day just gives us the
opportunity to do so…”</em></blockquote>
<br />
Think about it, I kept looking at the letter of it, and not in its Spirit.<br />
<br />
So
this morning, when I realised its “Women’s” day, I took some time out,
and thought about all of the women who matter to me. Just thinking of
them made my day. Linguist, Biotechnologists, Architects, Engineers,
Lawyers, Dentists, Managers, Teachers, Writers, Artists all come to my
mind, and how I KNOW they carry responsibilities with the aplomb and
grace that only they could have .<br />
<br />
Loving mothers, caring sisters and awesome friends you all are, and I realised, blessed am I to have you all in my life.<br />
This one’s for you, for all the special women in my world, who in turn make my world special, by being there. :)<br />
<br />
Cheers, and keep the faith.<br />
TomCat.<br />
<br />
P.s: today also happens to be this wonderful girl Lavanya Snigdha’s Birthday, so have a good one, dei! :D</div>Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-91961421654726528882012-07-07T12:26:00.001+05:302012-07-07T12:26:43.381+05:30Love and other...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix">
<div>
Valentine’s day, hmm. A
tough time for some, happy times for some more. Love it or hate it,
there’s no escaping it. You just get drawn into the whole thing, and I
cant think of any other “day’s” that generate so much Buzz.<br />
<br />
From
the last couple of years, in Karnataka atleast there was this Pramod
dude who wrecked some people’s happiness by being a miserable
girl-beating waste of blood and organs. Previous year, they threatened
that any guy and girl roaming on the street would be immediately married
off. Hell, I don’t know about the others but I ended up laughing my ass
off. The things that people do for publicity, I tell you. Anyway, he
got dealt with by flower power. No, not hippies but some crazy women
decided to send him pink undies. You cant exactly call it Pwnage, it
doesn’t match up somehow, but I would sure loved to have seen the man’s
face when he started receiving them bloomers.<br />
<br />
And so this
year, none of the Tamasha. Or nothing that I have heard of as I write
this. Who knows, he might have lulled the folks into a false sense of
security before jumping out of the cabinet and screaming boo!<br />
<br />
One
thing is for sure though, if them goons turn up at a pub in Bangalore
or some place, the bouncers and the MEN in the pub (yeah that’s right,
not the ones in Mangalore) will knock their bloody blockers off.<br />
<br />
It’s
a crazy day, in a way. One to express our love and all. Also this
expression comes at a price. Most mobile networks charge one rupee per
sms on this day. So its sort of a chivalrous thing, you text people even
if it isn’t free. Total brownie points material right there!<br />
<br />
What
is the point of it all, is something that somehow escapes me from all
these years. What so it’s a day and so you suddenly show your love for
someone or something? And tomorrow its NOT, and so you can dial it down a
few notches?<br />
<br />
And then these gift stores put up huge cards
and those godawful bears. Ah, the bears. Grizzly bears are some of the
most ruthless hunters, quickest, with an amazing sense of smell, are
extremely territorial, can be thrice your height and WILL, I repeat WILL
obliterate you in 2 seconds. Yet, a stuffed grizzly will get AWWWed and
in most cases (including mine ;) )you will also get :-* ed. On the
other hand, the common house lizard is harmless, eats flies and
generally minds its own business. But oh boy, try giving someone a
stuffed Lizard. I can sense a lot of o.O and 0_o looks.<br />
<br />
But
then I’m not saying Valentine’s day is bad in any way and I do not have
anything against people wishing me happy valentine’s day. Infact its
really nice, but its just that, like I was telling my friend in the
morning I love everyone I love equally on all days, if not more. Just
makes more sense that way.<br />
<br />
So this one is for all those in my life who make it special, I love you J<br />
So long, and keep the faith.<br />
Love,<br />
TomCat</div>
</div>
</div>Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-22566375851632420002012-01-09T02:19:00.003+05:302012-01-09T02:19:31.901+05:30Worth a thought...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
http://freekmagin.wordpress.com/</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-89347149510147442242011-09-25T22:45:00.001+05:302011-09-25T22:47:21.555+05:30A new morning.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="post-header">
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Cult:</span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Noun:</span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">1) Followers of an unorthodox,
extremist, or false religion or sect who often live outside of
conventional society under the direction of a charismatic leader.</span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Religion:</span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Noun:</span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">1) A strong belief in a supernatural power or powers that control human destiny.</span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Interchangeable, aren't they.</span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Religion, by definition is, a strong
belief in supernatural power that control human destiny. I think it
should be modified to, a strong belief in a made up power that control
humans. Just to clear the air, I admit that I am an atheist. I chose
this. I wasn't influenced, converted, nor am I following a "cult"
blindly. I am doing just the opposite, in fact. I am not against
religion, just the way its being followed.</span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Its not logical to me, the way religion
stands against humanity. Yes it does. Humanity teaches us to be
together. Religion does the opposite. It creates sects and make them
stand together against each other. Consider this for instance, every
other religion states that if you don't follow 'so and so' religion,
you'll go to the eternal pit of fire/hell or whatever that is called.
What are they trying to do here, scare people into following one? Why is
it never a time when we here a religion proclaim togetherness in spite
of cultural/religious/regional differences. I have personally, never
heard any of the religious heads saying, "if you don't follow my
religion, but some other, doesn't make a difference because its all same
to God". It's always about their God and their religion. </span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">What's worse is one religion banning
every other, to even slightly be involved, and they are proud to be
exclusive. Rubbish. Its more like the royal families of the English.
They marry their own cousins just to keep their lineage pure. Really?
Are you that stupid? Its like diving into the gene pool, with nothing
new in it. Scraping the bottom in hope of survival. What results from it
is genetic diseases, cancer and the IQ down the toilet. Spiral into
itself and die. Don't believe me, research it. It's true.</span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Almost every religion, these days is
attacking the other, hopelessly trying to prove and establish
superiority. They are so blind in the quest that they fail to see the
obvious, that they are not moving anywhere. They are exactly where they
started from. Are they this dumb to actually believe that someone will
admit the inferiority of his/her religion against theirs? Leave aside
the inferiority-superiority issue. I grew up with the notion that God is
the single point of pureness and religion is God's way of imparting
that pureness to everyone. But soon I knew that this is how fairytale
sounds.</span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">When people kill each other just because
they worship different Gods, I knew the whole idea was moot on the
society. The very notion of a creator is disturbed when every other sect
has one of their own which eventually sets out to be the most superior
of them all, and if not followed, promises you of burning in hell. And
then there are ones that forbid you to follow them because your are born
into some other.</span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Would I be any different if I was born a
Hindu or a Muslim or a Christian or a Parsi? Would I suddenly have
extra human power or would I lose the use of a limb or two? </span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">There's one other thing that really
bothers me and its the position of women according to the religion.
Always blamed, pushed around, burnt at stake and said to have caused
adversities.</span></div>
<ul style="color: #444444; text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-size: small;">Hindu: Ram questions Sita's morality
and loyalty after fighting an entire epic war, killing Ravan. Sita
finally submits herself to the fire.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">Christianity(Protestant): Virgin Mary was not
a virgin after she gave birth to Christ and was just another woman and hence the cause of all the bad in the world.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">Both Islam and Christianity have condemned woman(Eve) of committing the Original Sin and God said "</span><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: blue;">I
will greatly increase your pains in childbearing; with pain you will give
birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule
over you</span><b><span style="font-weight: normal;">" and to the man he said</span></b> <span style="font-weight: normal;">"</span></b></span><span style="font-size: small;"><b style="color: blue;">Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you
will eat of it all the days of your life</b><span style="color: black;">". So basically he gave PMS, childbirth and male dominance to women and the pain of earning to men. </span></span></li>
</ul>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Really...???? </span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Plus it really bugs me that when people
talk about God, the creator of everything, somehow they always portray a
male figure. Talk about equality. </span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Well I don't agree with any of them.
What I'd want to do is, to have all the like-minded, right-minded people
who rather than giving into the the shackles of the so established
religions, would like to have a blend of all the good and practical
approach towards being with each other and make a cult religion of my
own. Call it <b style="color: red;">Illuminati</b>. In essence, it'd do the same thing the secret society tried to do. Free thinking. </span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Be Illuminated....!</span></div>
</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-26044411162311023642011-01-01T17:36:00.002+05:302011-01-01T17:36:20.555+05:30End to A random 2010...<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix"><div>Well, an end to a great and weird year… 2010 will certainly go down in my life as the most random. At the end of the year, I can only sit and think back, see what I did wrong, and what I could have done, and the people who made it matter.<br />
Its no secret that I thrive on friends who are most of the time existing only on my facebook and my gmail, but you haven’t ever felt any less than the ones I see in real. And that’s very special, and I am thankful for that.<br />
<br />
This year has seen me be more thankful for what I have than things that I’d rather have otherwise. Really, I’ve begun to appreciate it more and more. This year also, I discovered I cant write like I used to. I spoke to someone about it, and she said, as people change, their writing also changes. I used to write effortlessly, bearing my soul to anyone, but I don’t seem to be able to do that anymore. Either I start to write too late after the thought has come and then it seems stupid, or I plain forget! I had planned to write a series of travel journals of my epic trips that I took this year, but that’s yet to materialize.<br />
Speaking of which, I’ve realized this year that I was meant to travel. Its one thing that I can see myself doing forever. In the last 4 years, I’ve seen 8 capital cities and I can feel genuine love for some of the places that I’ve seen. There was Calicut and cochin to start with. Absolute love. And then there was BBSR, which grows on you. That was partly due to the awesome company and new friends I got there, and then there was Shillong. I’m going to live there for a year sometime. All this traveling has made me fall in love with the incredible country that India is. That said, there are a few major regrets. I haven’t seen GOA till now. Yes, go ahead and laugh. Its just that its never caught my fancy all that seriously yet. And I haven’t seen Balmuri. All my mysore friends will know what I’m talking about. Its funny actually.<br />
<br />
I got a really good deal on a damn good digital camera, ofcourse all of you know that already, and I haven’t been doing it justice. I should make it a point to spend more time with it occasionally.<br />
2010 has been quite hard on me. I’ve had to say goodbye to a lot of special people this year. Some, I had it coming, and some I have a few unsaid things left. There are some others who have drifted farther, with their careers, and life as a whole and yet a lot more have made their way in. it’s a beautiful balance at the end of the year. This year I’ve had some of my best dreams coming true: like experiencing Cherrapunji and some of them shattered to bits. This year I’ve seen the happiest of moments, be it surprise hugging a sister at an airport at 1 AM or getting a sudden call from someone special just when I was thinking of her though she is 4 hours in the past. I’ve seen my share of terrible luck and pure hatred too.<br />
<br />
I’ve had things said to me that felt like white hot Arabian schimitars tear through my guts and pull it out. I also had kittens fall asleep on me, and it’s the most blissful thing ever. I fell in love this year, and fell out equally hard ;)<br />
There’s a few other things I’d want to remember, riding in the coldest night in Mysore for 117 years, making new random friends, google maps helping lost friends in Bangalore, 3 days at Igoor, and my new phone!<br />
I will also remember 2010 for being the most painful for a lot of people that I know, and will cherish it for bringing the people so close to me.<br />
<br />
Anyway, that seems to be a long enough Rant. Have a great year ahead and don’t forget to keep the faith :) Its not that bad afterall, y’know.<br />
<br />
Cheers,<br />
TomCat</div></div>Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-74813759791112582222010-09-11T23:46:00.000+05:302010-09-11T23:46:28.147+05:30Karnataka History Part -1: Revenge of The BrahminThe southern state, that looks like a bean is Karnataka. Where I come from. Usually, to the folks up north, every south Indian is Madrasi, or Mallu. That sucks. Thus, I'd like to present here some stories of the past from this region:<br />
<br />
The political history of Karnataka starts with the rise of the first indigenous dynasty: The Kadambas. Untill then, this land was under the control of The Pallavas, who used to rule from Kanchi, in Tamil Nadu. They were already doing some pretty awesome things, like the shore temple, and the Mahabalipuram cave temples and all that Jazz. We had nothing yet.<br />
<br />
Enter: Mr Mayurasharma. From a small town called Banavasi. He was just another Brahmin boy playing around, reciting what he was taught and so on. Now you see, brahmins are stereotypically weak and vegetarian. Not the sorts that would go picking a fight. Like so:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYp3qW7L97wLpG4iZ_j-gKzW0i9Jk3fUi4fZtpIGL9T7U7VUQ_9Lx-feaZK3yji2AucYP3-VLT6dW-mOJk9XlwCgPME3s-gV21z_DGgQUs1Nri0JakMgFD2PFDupMLuwtlOzvctYB-Xik/s1600/brahmin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYp3qW7L97wLpG4iZ_j-gKzW0i9Jk3fUi4fZtpIGL9T7U7VUQ_9Lx-feaZK3yji2AucYP3-VLT6dW-mOJk9XlwCgPME3s-gV21z_DGgQUs1Nri0JakMgFD2PFDupMLuwtlOzvctYB-Xik/s200/brahmin.jpg" width="154" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wouldn't harm a fly...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>After obtaining excellent GRE scores, he went off Kanchi for higher studies.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitjK0GV1ucgH33sMGHOtall1pqCrEFjtsmWvTmNfUjDexOQ8iji7dcCYyhN62ujznYjUrOaSDeKc5Qxu75PpZXX_54xoZAeYo0IB4VKfiINwmOOHRpVi-jBNHTMquwzuKn1aFU_RG1Db8/s1600/school_chale_hum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitjK0GV1ucgH33sMGHOtall1pqCrEFjtsmWvTmNfUjDexOQ8iji7dcCYyhN62ujznYjUrOaSDeKc5Qxu75PpZXX_54xoZAeYo0IB4VKfiINwmOOHRpVi-jBNHTMquwzuKn1aFU_RG1Db8/s200/school_chale_hum.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>And then, the inevitable happened. The city folks couldn't resist picking on the small-town brahmin.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpREwKBX9NoWq_iTmJpiGKaapk07ODZbSdsvgh31GzZ_Ev0wKCzVaboE5CeTXk4j2DTpynjEfxz2PY5mVBC68PfFY_F3YH5kjC9bI7PFLd7X6wLNpeFBX7rslKHYu57fO9JcmxQLad7Cg/s1600/3idiots_ragging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpREwKBX9NoWq_iTmJpiGKaapk07ODZbSdsvgh31GzZ_Ev0wKCzVaboE5CeTXk4j2DTpynjEfxz2PY5mVBC68PfFY_F3YH5kjC9bI7PFLd7X6wLNpeFBX7rslKHYu57fO9JcmxQLad7Cg/s320/3idiots_ragging.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Ofcourse, this was about two thousand years before we learnt that ragging seniors could be dealt with by electrocuting their cojones. Therefore, what happened next was Old school.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdzdEwkc9A-ngwjjCwBjsm3mbzgEmvBuNrllSr-kLiVqd6dxONC9UhV2IJe1qHURqNz7n4NCqrQX2kI1FoVpQIVqznGSchYgdBm5hvId4pu4F8OvHrgB_L5LTZkRyNeH2OvGKRsRtrw8Q/s1600/punisher_skull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdzdEwkc9A-ngwjjCwBjsm3mbzgEmvBuNrllSr-kLiVqd6dxONC9UhV2IJe1qHURqNz7n4NCqrQX2kI1FoVpQIVqznGSchYgdBm5hvId4pu4F8OvHrgB_L5LTZkRyNeH2OvGKRsRtrw8Q/s200/punisher_skull.jpg" width="155" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Retribution Time!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Mayursaharma swore vengeance on not only the idiots who Punked him, but against the whole frikkin empire. Eye-witnesses say he said something like: "The hand that clutches the sacred grass can wield the sword too" before storming back to his town.<br />
<br />
He bandied together a few of his friends, and in a slow flashback scene, with soulful music, mastered the martial arts. Guerrilla to be precise. The rampage started in the forest areas of modern day Srisailam in Andhra Pradesh. He grew stronger and stronger and when the dust finally settled, his army had inflicted some severe ass kicking on Traikutas, Abhiras, Sendrakas, Pallavas, Pariyathrakas, Shakasthana, the Maukharis and Punnatas: all kingdoms in the south and became Emperor<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEnzCYiFlLptpO1Qq-m_kvxoJK4upUt7qETQkBcQ4LE5ix3cJj18qvAHX6jCu-8Pa8Da8bWizrYbk0MMXkYspl7jwCD5ItvHisAXNm9lLH80eoyodx74O67fc7MXBE055Xmt-RRCOfGU/s1600/mayura.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYEnzCYiFlLptpO1Qq-m_kvxoJK4upUt7qETQkBcQ4LE5ix3cJj18qvAHX6jCu-8Pa8Da8bWizrYbk0MMXkYspl7jwCD5ItvHisAXNm9lLH80eoyodx74O67fc7MXBE055Xmt-RRCOfGU/s320/mayura.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They even made a movie...</td></tr>
</tbody></table> One of the first things he did after he became king (apart from the diamonds and the red tights) is that bounced out Prakrit and made Kannada the official language. From then on, Karnataka became an independent geo-political entity and a centre of power.<br />
<br />
They even named India's most advanced and only military naval base INS Kadamba. 'Nuff said.Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-84723911861594891992009-12-30T00:39:00.003+05:302009-12-30T21:42:15.733+05:30iPod chronicles.......!!%$*&$*%$*.......<div><br /></div><div>APPLE SUCKS...........</div><div><br /></div><div>IF YOU'RE THINKING OF BUYING YOURSELF AN IPOD, THROW THAT IDEA AND YOURSELF OUT OF THE WINDOW.......</div><div><br /></div><div>My iPod is not a gadget. Its not a gizmo either. I'll tell you what it is?</div><div><br /></div><div>A friggin SADISTIC B@$%$%^$.</div><div><br /></div><div>See... I am the kind of girl who has an extremely diversified taste in music... Meaning i can listen to a love aaj kal song, mosh to a linkin park number, or groove to a hip hop beat. It doesn't matter to me. However, it does seem to matter to my dear little friend over here. For he enjoys playing only BOLLYWOOD tracks and NOTHING BUT. If my iPod was had a voice(which is just about the only thing it lacks), a typical conversation between us would go like this</div><div><br /></div><div>Me-(cautiously)Good day.....</div><div>iPod-Whaddya want</div><div>Me-I was just wondering if i could add some more songs to my existing library</div><div>iPod-More? What 28 songs ain't enough for ya? You might go deaf if you listen to too much music</div><div>Me-Your concern towards me is touching</div><div>iPod-Yeah whatever. besides i'm not in the mood to today</div><div>Me-Are you EVER in the mood to do ANYTHING that i might perhaps NEED?</div><div>iPod-Hmm. Let me think. No</div><div>Me-I thought as much</div><div>iPod-hey be nice to me. Else...</div><div>Me-Sorry.</div><div>iPod-Anyway, what songs?</div><div>Me-I was thinking maybe some evanesence, linkin park, skillet or maybe some metallica</div><div>iPod-Whoa there girl. That stuff's WAAY too heavy for you</div><div>Me-Then what would be appropriately suited for my listening requirements?</div><div>iPod- Maybe some song from Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani or Om Shanti Om</div><div>Me-@#$@%@%#%@#$@#@$%@$@#@!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</div><div>iPod-Dont' take that tone with me. Just try adding another song.</div><div>Me-Well lets see then b!@tCH!</div><div><br /></div><div>2 hours later...</div><div><br /></div><div>Me-Look....wat did i ever do to you in my past life?? Huh?? Why do you hate me so much??</div><div>iPod-Moron. I'm an iPod, i have no idea what you did to me in your past life. </div><div>Me-So why the torture then</div><div>iPod-I don't know</div><div>Me-What the F*$k do u mean YOU DONT KNOW?!!?!?</div><div>iPod- I mean i don't know. Just like watching you suffer</div><div>Me- Okay so what'll you do when i go out and buy a Sony Transcend MP3 player huh? Then you won't have Aishwarya Ramesh to kick around when your sorry little @$$ is in the trash can and you're wishing you showed a little more respect</div><div><br /></div><div>(Erm....mind you this is a hypothetical conversation)</div><div><br /></div><div>IPOD FOR SALE...........</div><div>CHEAP...........</div><div>THIS IS AS CHEAP AS IT CAN GET.................... X-( X-(</div>zombie_princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943515464838156973noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-63288057251803703572009-11-18T21:25:00.006+05:302009-11-18T22:03:29.792+05:30WATCH OUT!Here are the top few irritants that we tend to come across on most Indian roads.<br /><br />#10 - The Dog.<br /><br /> These so called lovable strays tend to cross your path and stay there, AT WILL. You move left, it moves left. You move right, it moves right. You're screwed.<br /><br />#9 - The School kids on the cycles.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> Three or sometimes upto four kids. With fancy backpacks. Riding like they own the road.<br /> You're stuck behind them. You honk. They dont give a rats whatever.<br /></div><br />#8 - The college girl Triad.<br /><br /> Same pattern, but these are college girls. Fancy bandana under the helmet. usually on Activas, and chatting with each other. You honk. They continue chatting. <br /><br />#7 - The cow.<br /><br /> It will amble off in random directions. Or will sit down.Right in the middle of the road. You honk .HA HA.<br /><br />#6 - The yamaha RX punk.<br /><br /> Will overtake you. From nowhere. Will fly away to fast to hear you curse too.<br /><br />#5 - The lorry on the fast lane.<br /><br /> Will go slower than normal lorries. You dont even honk.<br /><br />#4 - The tail-gate killer.<br /><br /> You're trying to pass a truck. You inch towards the right to see if there's any oncoming<br /> traffic. woops, Omni headed your way. You Try to get back behind the truck. Viola! Look<br /> who occupied your place while you were aaway! Why, its the Lady in the Maruti! **R.I.P**<br /><br />**edit**<br /><br />If this is at night, The OMNI fellow is driving with the high beam on. You're blinded.<br /><br /><br />#3 - The Villager at the Median.<br /><br /> Not Racist. but he's just crossed the median. You're hurtling towards him. He freezes. You<br /> honk. He goes Huh?. usually holds his Lungi. You're screwed.<br /><br />#2 - The PushCart guy.<br /><br /> He doesnt have brakes. No steering either. Your call.<br /><br />#1 - The Signal Honker.<br /><br /> You're at the front of the pack waiting at a red light. Count down. 8 - 7 - 6- 5 - and the guy<br /> behind you- he goes- **HOONKKKK**-4 - 3 - 2.... DUDE! I'M A GUY. I *WILL* EXPLODE<br /> OFF THE LINE AS SOON AS IT TURNS GREEN, SO HOLD ON TO YOUR BLADDER FOR<br /> JUST TWO MORE SECONDS! YOU JERK!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Well, these are it.I THINK its in order too. :)<br /><br /><br />Good luck, ride safe, and ALWAYS wear a helmet.Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-48709843203675766122009-09-22T19:03:00.001+05:302009-09-22T19:09:28.260+05:30The Kadambas...<img src="file:///C:/Users/ARJUN/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CARJUN%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CARJUN%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link rel="colorSchemeMapping" 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line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">The Kadamba king was a satisfied man... He had all the reasons in the world to be as satisfied as he was feeling now. He was, in fact, the first king from <i style="">THAT</i> land to rule <i style="">THAT</i> hand... Till then, <i style="">THAT</i> land was ruled by dynasties and pompous asses from other lands. He singlehandedly raised an army, challenged the might of the ageing king, and defeated him too. It had taken almost 700 years since ruling began, for someone <i style="">FROM</i> that land to rule that land.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">At that particular moment, he was waiting outside his castle's draw-doors with his entourage. Blasting horns and shells announced his arrival back into the castle. He rode in to the palace with the gait and majesty that defied his humble beginnings. He looked over at the line of guards now bowed deeply in respect, his warriors. That small band of warriors, were so ferocious that the news of their valor spread far and wide. He made a mental note to himself to order the building of the luxury quarters that he had promised them.
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">His own private quarters weren’t all that luxurious. It was for the simple reason that it wasn’t built for him. The king that he overthrew was a simple man, but chose the location of the room very carefully within the castle. It was located in a place, from whose windows one could see far and beyond the land's Great Plains.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">There were also seven such identical rooms that were spread out randomly around the castle. The King still secretly admired the simplicity and brilliance of the architect. He also remembered the arcitect's cold, menacing eyes, that showed no sign of fear or pain, but lot of contempt as the sword split his heart into two.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">The king had wondered why.
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">He dint wonder anymore. The castle that was deceptively simple looking held secrets so terrible that the king flinched every time he thought of it. He also got the strange feelings of sudden sadness and paranoia when he was around the rooms. He certainly felt like he had got much more than what he bargained for. Knowing full well for what he was now responsible, he secretly wondered sometimes if he could somehow turn the hourglass around and go back to ignorant bliss.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">That’s when he decided to do something about it. And so he strode over to the fireplace and pushed a particular tile near the mantelpiece. A recessed platform then came up with his<span style=""> </span>Dell XPS workstation.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
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<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><span style=""> </span>That’s also when it all started going horribly wrong.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">He just finished coding the secrets and burnt it onto a DVD, when he heard faint noises outside the doors. He had no time to fathom what those noises were, as seconds later, the two foot thick mahogany doors burst open and about 20 men in black fatigues stormed in, clutching sub machine guns.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">"FREEZE!" Said a tall man in front, pointing his laser-target marker squarely on the King's forehead. It was easy to do as the King had doubled over in shock and tripped on his lace and fallen spread eagle on the hard floor. His mind went blank and focused entirely on one single thought.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">The DVD.. He HAD to protect it, it was his un-sworn duty... He reached slowly for the small blade enclosed in his bracelet, dangerously close to his wrist. And in one quick moment that stunned everyone in the room, he...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">"ARJUN!"</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;">
<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">"present sir!" i mumble, in shock, as my history professor winds down his class. I look sideways and see my classmates all seeming to be stirring after a long siesta.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">
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<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">" nice chaps, yes, These
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">kadambas?' I ask y friend.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">
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<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">" dude, who cares man? I dont frikkin know what he was talking about except for the first rulers from THAT land bit...''</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">
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<br /><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="verdana" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"><span style=";font-family:";font-size:10pt;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">'"Oh..." i mumble and shuffle slowly out of the classroom.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-49885366520452038872009-07-23T23:54:00.002+05:302009-07-24T00:12:27.761+05:30Insomnia...<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCFF;">its nearing midnight.... i'm not snuggled up in bed with my favourite pillow.... i'm not fast asleep, dreaming of infinity..... hell sleep seems to be the last thing i can achieve right now.. damn....</span></i></b><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCFF;"><br /></span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCFF;">I never really knew that stress could cause insomnia... Is it cause i'm loaded with homework? or maybe busy preparing for a test the next day? or practicing playing on my guitar in my free time(or whats left of it...) i don't really know...</span></i></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCFF;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCFF;"><b><i>Gets you thinking though... i knw i know.... i'm not going to start ranting or complaining...my thoughts just seem to lead me to this emptiness. All i can think of is how insane this weekend is all set to be. Tell u guys about it if it goes successful </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCFF;"><b><i>-_-" </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCFF;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CCCCFF;"><b><i>So long and good night!!</i></b></span></div>zombie_princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943515464838156973noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-44196825428139777542009-06-03T12:14:00.001+05:302009-06-03T12:16:32.631+05:30say pleease... :)<p class="MsoNormal">I was recently at a handbag store and I picked up a brochure for students who are going to travel abroad. It didn’t surprise me to see instructions and general tips like “Count your baggage every time it passes the conveyor belt” and “Make sure your passport and other important documents are safe” but it surprised me to see instructions like “Say Please when asking for help” and “Say thank you loud and clear when somebody helps you”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Didn’t these kids ever have parents who taught them to say please and thank you every time they needed help and/or received it?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Today’s world’s moving at a supersonic speed… I think all of us are moving too fast to enjoy the littler things and stop and be grateful for what we have… I know very well how to grumble at the fact that I don’t own an Xbox360 or how to throw a tantrum to get something I want but I’m just learning how to appreciate the smaller things and the nearly invisible people.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You probably don’t get what I’m saying right now so I think it would be easier to illustrate with an example. I’m not too shy… I can talk to just about anybody and everybody so here goes my first example.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Metro had a 50% sale and I went there with my mom cause I was bored of preparing for my board exams and my shoes were horrid looking (although in MY defence, they’re extremely comfortable) and my mom was obviously not happy with me wearing such ratty shoes but trust me.. I despise shoe shopping.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I found a pair of shoes I liked and I knew they’d fit me out of an impulse but my mom’s all but impulsive so she insisted on me trying them out first. They’re huge platform shoes with a lot of heel… I’m used to wearing mostly flats or sneakers so this was a whole new dimension. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">There was a salesman who was helping me put it on and I said “Thank you so much for helping me out, I’m totally new to this stuff” He just smiled. I could tell he thought I was just being nice so I added that I really appreciated it. He simply smiled again. I tried the shoes on and effortlessly managed to walk the ramp around the store and convince my mom that I wouldn’t break both ankles in these shoes. She made me try them on one more time before finalising our purchase. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">She made me try them out for the third and (thankfully) the last time but this time I wasn’t sitting so I stumbled while trying them on and my mom threw me a dirty look but nevertheless, she began to rummage through her purse for her credit card but as luck would have it, she had forgotten them at home and I needed to give the shoes up. Now I’d kind of grown to love those shoes so it was a disappointment. My mom promised me to buy them in the evening but I decided to have no expectations as I felt kind of nervous in those shoes anyway. So as I sat alone at home solving every possible sum in my pillow… sorry my R.D.Sharma guide, I got the surprise of my life… My mom came home WITH the shoes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was too surprised to speak. I thought she’d keep them away from me for safety reasons. She simply smiled and told me that the salesman told her to go ahead and take a chance and make the purchase.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Another incident actually took place today evening at dinner time. I’d dragged my parents to Ascendas for dinner in McDonalds and Ascendas being a hip and happening place for youngsters and adults and families (obviously) alike and being a Sunday… we had no place to sit and I absolutely despise sharing my table with total strangers for god knows what reason. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">When my mom waved me over to a seemingly empty table but I walked over to her carefully balancing my McDonalds tray and my Coke in my hand and I could feel my face drop when I saw that we had to share our table with a girl and a guy that we didn’t know. So I put my tray down, smile politely at the girl and guy and unwrap my burger and start eating it. Lets call the girl Didi. I sit down opposite to her and Didi suddenly gets up when my mom comes and offers my mom her seat. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I just looked at her surprised. That’s the first time in a very long time I’ve seen someone do something like that in a very long time. It’s just something about that gesture that made me respect her so much to the extent that I actually began addressing her as Didi! (I have an older sister who’s related to me by blood and I never called her akka or Didi even once). I later ate my food in silence and thanked her and left but something about that action made me able to build a bond with a complete stranger. The only thing I had in common with her was the table.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Its little things like this, small polite gestures, seemingly insignificant acts of kindness that are capable of making people’s days but as I already mentioned, our world’s moving super fast. We should take a little more time to slow down. A lot of people are seemingly invisible and we have to take more time to acknowledge them. When was the last time you thanked a waiter or the guy who stands by the door from morning to evening without even complaining once when people don’t thank him….</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>zombie_princesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06943515464838156973noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-45774041547220567132009-05-15T06:34:00.002+05:302009-05-15T06:37:01.921+05:30My first ever poem...I was working on some calculations last night, and since my brain hates math so much, it went into zonked out mode, and when i recovered, i found that i had just written my first ever poem... if it qualifies as a poem... ;)<br /><br />Was late into summer,<br />things started going wrong.<br />Clashing of our egos,<br />like hammer and tongs.<br /><br />early into summer,<br />she had taken off the ring,<br />The tensions and the distance<br />Uncoiling like a spring.<br /><br />The middle of the summer,<br />my hottest one yet.<br />We grew further apart,<br />our intentions never met.<br /><br />Turning, twisting in my bed,<br />the wind outside blowing strong.<br />it suddenly hit me on my head<br />how could i let things go, oh so wrong!<br /><br />And now i'm out to win her back,<br />i know its a mountain of a task.<br />The rains will bring me back solace,<br />but a little prayer from you is all i ask...<br /><br /> <div id=":vg" class="ii gt"><wbr> - Tomcat</div>Arjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-66537513508993071872009-02-05T20:47:00.006+05:302009-02-05T21:32:33.237+05:30DisillusionmentIts been a while since i last made a post.<br /><br />Been very busy with exams and Job.<br /><br />First time im blogging to take my mind of things.<br />My situation in life is like being trapped in a maze. There are lots of ways and every path leads to a goal, but i can only reach one goal when there are many to be achieved and whichever goals i neglect will land me in hot water with others.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">My Situation</span>: My sis had a baby girl on Jan 18, she had a C-section so she cant climb stairs. My mom who is a lecturer in a college has taken leave till feb.24 to take care of sis and baby. My bro in law is from bombay and he comes to town when his job allows him (he works in bombay too). My father is a surgeon and he has a lot of health problems. My mother too is afflicted with arthritis and rheumatism in knees. And 2 days ago my grandma (moms mom) is diagnosed with breast cancer. Today the report says that the cancer is malignant and initial findings suggest that the cells are already in the bloodstream. BIG PROBLEM, now chemo and other radiation therapy is imminent. My grandma has nvr been hospitalised and she is not the kind of person who is of strong mind to withstand pain. Ive seen ppl who are stong willed being reduced to a shadow coz of chemo, it is very difficult. My mom is the only daughter and she is having pressure from all relatives who do nothin but find fault with others. They dont help out, they just sit on their couches and call my mom and tell her that she should do more, and talk among themselves and say that my mom is not takin cre of grandma. My grandma lives alone in her house which is 3 km frm my hse, she doest want to let go of the house evn though we tried to tell her to live with us after grandfathers death 2 yrs ago. Even if she does come here, we only have one bedroom on the ground floor, so it would be difficult to accomodate a person who has an operation and also radiation therapy is a room where there is a baby.And i have been trying to get into one of the top-20 B-schools in the country for 3 years, this year i finally got some interview calls, i only expected them to come in march but like a bolt from the blue, my first one is on Feb.17, along with this i have work as a marketing manager of my company, atleast i have some projects in my hometown, so at present i am @ home. There are some probs on the personal front too which is something im not evn thinkin about now, but it is also important.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;">My options</span>:<br />1. Act oblivious to the situation @ home and continue with job and prepration for the interviews. My father sacrificed a lot of his career aspirations coz of resposnsibility towards parents, and he has been trying hard to insulate me from all this, obviously its every father's dream to see his son do well.<br /><br />2. Take responsibility of taking care of grandma (in which i hav constraints as a male) and let my preparation suffer.<br /><br />3. Taking care of the baby and sis and lettin mom go and stay with grandma which i dont think my mom is willing to do. And taking care of the baby is a lot harder.<br /><br />4. Take leave from job, which would be unfair to company since they dont have their head of marketing due to his marriage. Already the company has given me everything in suport for my MBA aspirations which companies generally dont do.<br /><br />Im just recaping a statement made by my mom today "Grandma is such a nice person, a good soul, why did this have to come to her". OK, i agree that this is a cliched statement but this happening to her at this moment in time is hard, most hardest for my mom. I always felt that there is a higher power, which most people call by the name GOD, though i dont believe in religion. 2008 was my worst year, coz of a lot of issues on the personal front, my life was in tatters at the end of 2008, and i had just picked myself up and learnt to cope with all the difficulties and challenges. Now this has caused me to have a total disullionment with the motives of God.<br /><br />Is this a test? How the hell am i supposed to pass!!<br /><br />"Life is really unfair, If it wasnt it would be called heaven" – Madhav :)Maddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324822383606014802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-26682422422482003022009-01-28T00:42:00.000+05:302009-01-28T00:44:21.771+05:30Emotional knapsack<p class="MsoNormal">Some questions were bubbling in my mind since whenever.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">how do you trust somebody? how do you get somebody to trust you?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">why is it so hard to confide in someone? how do you become someone's confidante?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">when do you know its love? how do you know its love?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">What I know is when you trust somebody, you confide in them. When you confide in them, you get involved. Once you start confiding you are testing the other fellow… their response, sensibility and ability to be a vault and all that stuff. That’s how you decide if it’s good to trust them or not.<br />If they are good enough to be trusted with your emotions they are good to be your partner.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I mean though it requires a lot of other stuff, but basically you need to connect on one level more than physical. Emotional...! If he/she's trustworthy that means he/she responds, is sensible enough and keeps your personal life personal. You like that. Humans by nature live in groups. Can’t do alone… they need somebody by their side. Now that you have found one it opens path for further emotions. Then you are bonded. You look for further enhancements in the relationship. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">If it suits all your personal/physical needs, you get attracted. Its unintentional. You don’t go around weighing what you have got. If for once it clicks, you see a possibility and you try for it. Eventually if all goes right you find yourself in love.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And you go on with it trying, exploring. Once you reach a position where no matter what happens you always seem to get the peace with your partner, you miss them on every occasion possible, you keep thinking about him/her, blabber senseless stuff but more often than not your he/she is the protagonist, you can’t seem to go on one day without talking to him/her... that means you are in love. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">And it works the same way for the others too, though relative, the process is the same. To the best of my knowledge… Conditions apply.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">BUT</p> <p class="MsoNormal">What if any of that goes missing, Trust or confiding or love?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">What then? How do you tell yourself to improve? You don’t know what is going wrong. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">You are not aware of the shortcoming. Was it all real? Was it all good?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Is that how it’s supposed to be? Or there should be a moster.com for love too?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">What if you have the perfect match and it can't get any better than this?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">How would you sort it out?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Watchya gonna do about that???</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-62950667686356583052009-01-10T22:00:00.000+05:302009-01-10T22:01:26.542+05:30First update from 09!Me'lady lives in Mangalore, :D ,and its where my maternal grandparents live, so i've been a regular at Mangalore.<br />I was there only last week, and i noticed a few things that i had'nt paid too much attention to.<br />It was only the second time that i went there alone, so i was more concious of the surroundings. Previously when i used to go there with ma, i'd be blissfully unaware of anything, but then, trust me, Mangalore's changed tremendously from the sleepy slow city that i knew as a kid. The local buses are privatised, so there are hell lot of buses running from everywhere to everywhere else. So there was fierce competition among buses to get there first. Since the bus service is so good, other vehicles were hardly seen, except for the lone motorist occasionally. fast forward ten years, and we now have a cosmopolitan-as-hell Mangalore, with income flowing in from the Gulf and everywhere else. This has resulted in a tremendous increase in the number of private vehicles, and the worst part is that the number of buses as increased as well! So, on the same roads, there are buses and cars and what not too... This has resulted in the mess that is the traffic in Mangalore today.<br /><br />I'm feeling a bit math-y today so let me try and sum up the situation by help of an equation:<br /><br />butt-on-fire bus drivers+young guns in the hot seat+messed up roads=mayhem+a good chance that you'll get killed.<br /><br />Lame, i know, but i never really WAS good at math... he he.<br /><br />So bottom line is, avoid driving in Mangalore if you're not a local. You'll get killed.<br />On second thoughts, avoid crossing the roads during the day too. The bus drivers dont seem to regard pedestrians a reason strong enough to slow down for. :|<br /><br />On the personal front, i've been very jobless lately sitting at home doing nothing, uselessy texting people useless things and spoiling the peace in the world.<br /><br />gotta go, mom's hollering for dinner.<br /><br />Raju bhai Raju bhai YES PAPA?<br /><br />doing fraud? NO PAPA!<br /><br />telling lies? NO PAPA!<br /><br />open your account book! :DArjun Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16996047971021530565noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4912973364541941291.post-47242707941434577862009-01-04T15:11:00.003+05:302009-02-04T02:56:37.872+05:30Tracing down memory lane...<span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:Verdana;font-size:12;"><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I seem to be looking at my shadows,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The ones the world cannot see, but I can.</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A question still happens to perplex me,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Is that a shadow or an image of me?</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Like a rookie from the lanes of an imaginary circus,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He came into my life expecting nothing,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Nothing but a pass into my thoughts,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I laughed, if only I knew where the access lies.</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Then I secretly mined my way,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Into the forbidden fortress of my past,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Tears gushed out, I broke my personalised dam.</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I laughed, shocked, confused, happy and delighted.</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Then I thought about my childhood,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">They one I so much tried to hide and ignore,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I saw holes, the damamge was done,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My own life unfolded full of cracks.</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There! I remember those fields!</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">That park full of magical creatures!</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Stealing mangoes from my neighbour's yard,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">How one of us got caught!!!</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mother and Grandmother feeding us,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Ah! Those specifications I demanded for,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Grandmother's stren denail,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My very own dharna...</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I wondered why I ran away from me.</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It then revealed itself slowly,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The monster that hid behind those times,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And I sat down devastated, lost.</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Should I curse myself for taking that trip?</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">What did I expect to uncover?</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Those pearls from my past were paste,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I knew that, what then did I want?</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">That put my life on pause,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I repeated to myself, forget, forget,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">forget, forget, forget, and forget.</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I hid myself from those eyes reading me.</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I ran to my future, the one in my dreams,</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Never again to turn back and too scared to look.</span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="text-align: center; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: center; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: center; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: center; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: center; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: center; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: center; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: center; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 84px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-align: center; line-height: 16px; font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></h3><h3 class="smller" style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 84px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: 16px;font-family:Verdana,Arial,sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h3></span>Lavanya Snigdhahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16347365365812766503noreply@blogger.com0