tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73269332361171219912024-03-05T05:46:18.315-08:00The Blithering IdiotIn his element, now.Gauravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11666945180040797699noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-50404287550629018212021-01-16T08:00:00.000-08:002021-01-16T08:00:10.734-08:007 P's of Pani Puri Marketing Mix<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Let me not be clichéd and put a disclaimer that this article is only for those who truly love Pani Puri. Yes, of course, it is for them. But it is more for those who:</div>
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1. Put this dish among their top 3 only dishes they could eat for the rest of their lives,</div>
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2. Never so no to Pani Puri because 'they just had a salad' or 'they just had it last week', </div>
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3. Are not overtly finicky about where they have it from.</div>
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Now I am no business guru to to advise with confidence on the marketing model of any service, but I daresay I am particularly discerning about my Pani Puri that I can consider myself a combination of Philip Kotler and Vir Sanghvi to give profitable advice to anyone willing to start a Pani Puri business. And that, I shall, now, here. Thank you very much.</div>
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For the uninitiated, the marketing strategy of any <i>product</i> is based on 4 P's: Product, Price, Place, Promotion. For a <i>service, </i>there are three extra P's: People, Process and Physical Evidence. If you agreed with the three points I stated at the beginning of the article, you would also agree that Pani Puri is not a <i>product, </i>it is a <i>service. </i>And hence, I shall lay down the 7 P's of Pani Puri Marketing Mix.</div>
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1. Product:</div>
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A soap is a soap is a soap, perhaps. But a Pani Puri is not any Pani Puri is not just a Pani Puri is never the same Pani Puri. Now there is a variety of Pani Puri across India and each has its takers, but my personal favourite is the basic teekha pani, meethi chutney along with ragda or sprouts stuffings. The burst of the spicy and sweet flavour is much better than just jeera, pudina, and I don't know what. Why don't you just eat papad and drink along jeera and pudina flavoured water in that case?</div>
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The perfect teekha pani is the one that infused with perfect balance of all the ingredients and is served chilled! And it should be chilled in all the weathers. If it's winter, please serve hot ragda and add another, third dimension to the sweet and spicy combination. If it's summer, tempt me with peppered mashed potato and boiled sprouts. But lukewarm water is as off-putting as lukewarm coffee. I'll tell you about the magic of ice-block in the teekha pani in the Physical Evidence point. </div>
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Now majority of consumers go for 'medium teekha' i.e. both teekha pani and meethi chutney. But there are quite a few who opt for 'sirf teekha'. It is difficult to understand why they would forsake the 'burst of flavour' and all that that I referred to before, but being a connoisseur of spicy dishes myself, I can give them some credit. But inscrutable is the species which insists on 'sirf meetha'! Why even pretend to have Pani Puri in that case? Go have gulab jamun and papad! If I ever have my own Pani Puri outlet, I would refuse to serve such patrons. I wouldn't care even if their wussy kids can't have the teekha pani, but no sacrilege of flavour at the my Pani Puri altar, no sir!</div>
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2. Price:</div>
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Everything </div>
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Gauravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11666945180040797699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-61871533954702867832016-03-18T18:52:00.001-07:002016-05-14T21:22:29.340-07:00Gym Blues<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span data-offset-key="32ja7-0-0" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-text="true">If only we could workout and move about in the gym in the proverbial personal bubble, that would be great, thank you very much. 21 socially awkward situations or frustrating things that qualitatively mar my gym experience, sometimes, quantitatively too:
1. When someone carries their cellphone to the gym, uses it between the sets and keeps it at various places around only to reach out quickly to it and start swiping ferociously.
2. Doing all that AND bringing along a charger.
3. When someone plays their own playlist on the music player, and nobody else in the gym seems to even feel slightest of the bother, so you just decide to walk out half-way from your workout.
4. When someone has Yo Yo Honey Singh songs on their playlist being played on the music player.
5. When someone lip-syncs to the Yo Yo Honey Singh songs while working out.
6. When someone lip-syncs to the Yo Yo Honey Singh songs </span></span><span data-offset-key="32ja7-0-1" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 17px; font-style: italic; line-height: 28px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-text="true">while</span></span><span data-offset-key="32ja7-0-2" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-size: 17px; line-height: 28px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span data-text="true"> checking themselves out in the mirror between their sets, and you decide that you have had enough of exercise for the day and walk out.
7. Bring-Your-Kid-To-The-Gym Day.
8. When everyone in the gym dilly-dallies with the little kid of that member while he's working out like a bitch, and you wonder if you, too, should join the queue to exchange pleasantries with the kid to assure everyone well in advance that you weren't the one to complain about such habits in the suggestion box.
9. When someone hangs their moist napkin on any horizontal object, but never on the allotted hooks.
10. When someone leaves their moist napkin on your gym instrument, so you hover around the spot looking around if the owner will get the hint and pick it up. If he doesn't and you don't know whose it is, you try to figure out which part of the napkin is dry and germ-free enough to lift up from.
11. The boisterous camaraderie between some guys and the gym instructor, and when you try to act 'extra dude' when you call the instructor if you need some help with the weights.
12. When someone shadows you as an unsolicited workout partner especially when you are half way through your workout already, thus highly frustrating you in the course because they are using weights too heavy or too light, so that your rest between the sets is wasted in helping change all the weights for both of you.
13. Radio. Oh lord, the radio!
14. When the most demanding sets of your workout have to go along with the crappy ads on the radio.
15. The lame wall posters: I wish they could change the quote posters every week at least. Subjecting me to “Look in the mirror! That’s your competition!” throughout the year is going to piss the shizzles out of me when I look into the mirror. But worse are the unappetising photos of the ugly, muscled men and women who are anything but inspiring. I mean, no one works out at the gym to represent their state at a bodybuilding competition.
16. When you are a gym member for so long that you've seen a series of instructors come and go, and when a sweaty, fat cardio guy comes over and tells you how to do your weights the correct way - right in the middle of your set - and you don't know if you should accept their suggestion or just ignore them and complete your set as you please.
17. When someone's idea of “sweating it out hard” is not “pushing themselves to the extreme like a real man” but switching off the air-conditioning and the fans, and even when you shift your base to the cooler areas of the gym they invariably migrate over to you spreading the dreary hotness and discomfort.
18. That moment when a lady walks over to share your equipment and you have to impatiently switch on your gentleman mode and check if you're not leaving any sweat stains on the equipment even though you always wipe them, if any, or you're not profusely 'manspreading', or your deodorant is still effective, or your T-shirt is not being pulled up too much, or your hair isn't getting upset in the middle of your set so that you don't know if you should stop and run your fingers through your hair and continue again or just carry on, uncomfortably conscious that that lady is noticing your 'workout-face' made even funnier by your hair.
19. When you eventually lie down on a mattress for your abs workout and you don't realise when those 15 seconds of relaxation with your eyes closed becomes a short nap only to abruptly wake up with a jolt to check how long you dozed off for and if anyone saw what just happened, just acting as if you consciously decided to catch those 40 winks.
20. When you try to squeeze in as much of strenuous exercise as possible during a good song which just luckily starts playing on the unsupervised music player and that livid moment when someone shouts across the floor to change the music.
21. When an exceptionally burly gym member is making himself conspicuous in the gym with unabashedly loud grunting during his workout and - in spite of his workout buddies and the gym instructor encouraging him - you try not to make your displeasure apparent, but when you're pushing yourself with some modest, medium-heavy weights and you realise an irrepressible grunt coming up, you suddenly stop, faking some wrist discomfort, and walk around for a while flexing your wrist like this and like that.
(PS: This article is based on the experiences in my old gym. I have moved on to a new, better gym now.)</span></span></span><br />
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Gauravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11666945180040797699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-88709489322631650972014-03-23T11:18:00.000-07:002014-03-23T12:03:28.847-07:00For the Love of Fries!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My take on food is as informed as a Frenchman's on spiciness, thank you very much. <br />
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My friends can swear on the fact that I am the worst person to be taken along on a binge excursion, or if one is trying out a new restaurant or a new dish. It is true, though. I have a digestive system of a hamster. I am nauseated and feel a physical compulsion to throw up even if something strikes me even a tad funny-tasting. That's why I have grown an aversion to all the spongy foodstuffs like cakes and pastries just because I ate a cake on my birthday, as a kid, and realised I am allergic to eggs. That's why for a long time, I thought I was allergic to even cottage cheese because I ate some weird Chinese starter and threw up later. I realised after several years that I wasn't allergic to it, but my dislike for Chinese food still prevails. Anyway, so I have established that I am a fussy eater.</div>
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The upside, however, of being a fussy eater is that if there is stuff that you actually like, you'll love it enough to have it as your staple diet. Of all the several things I can think of, one of them is French Fries.</div>
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I judge a restaurant on the quality of French Fries it serves. Although no restaurant would give a fuck about the judgment of a Fussy Eater like me (yes, capital F and capital E!), I adamantly believe that French Fries are to a restaurant what socks are to an ensemble. Just like a sane man will never put much thoughts beyond playing it conventional with his socks while pulling off an attire even when he's dressing up for a special occasion, in the same way, most restaurants would hardly take any efforts to ensure their Fries are well-made. And when one says 'well-made', one doesn't need any validation by an eminent food blogger, neither does one need to be an omnivore or an omnidigestor. I always order French Fries at almost every restaurant I go to, especially the ones which are cuisine-oriented. These restaurants think that they might reap the benefits of their <i>offres principales. </i>and no one would care much about a side dish which you usually order as a distraction to your hands while you're chatting with your friends till the main course arrives. When someone wears an interesting pair of socks - even bordering on tastefully quirky - one can appreciate their efforts in putting in a thought behind a garment that's hardly going to be noticed or visible. My judgment of a restaurant is based on the same principle. </div>
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Some of the best restaurants where I have ordered a plate of French Fries disappointed me. There were places where the Fries were served in miserly quantities in bowls smaller than a soup bowl, were at room temperature, could've been classified as fried potato shavings or were oily enough to tick off <a href="http://0.tqn.com/d/humor/1/0/2/O/-/-/Angry-Gordon-Ramsay-meme-oil.jpg">Gordon Ramsay</a>. The French Fries can be made in a gourmet way as well, if you will, employing molecular gastronomy and all that. But by their own virtue, they are not the kind of food which - like wine - requires one to acquire taste over a period of time. So however fancy-ass the restaurant might be, if a Fussy Eater is not impressed by their French Fries, the French Fries are not good enough. Period. I shall leave the critique of the rest of their menu to the abler bellied. </div>
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But then, I have eaten the best of the French Fries at some nondescript restaurants as well. They were the kinds which actually distracted you from the conversation around the table and made the hand-to-mouth movement consciously voluntary and anticipating of flavour. I get a welcoming and an inclusive vibe from such restaurants which serve good Fries. They seem to have a motto which promises that no stone is left unturned while preparing even the least fancy dish. </div>
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Just to make my adulation for the Fries simpler and seem less crazier, allow me to share with you my criteria for good Fries. For them to be well-cooked, the Fries should (be):</div>
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<li>adequately salted, </li>
<li>of right thickness, </li>
<li>hot, </li>
<li>taste as if your grandma is hiding in the kitchen personally frying you a batch, </li>
<li>hot, </li>
<li>whichever unit crispiness is measured in, that precise unit level of crispy, </li>
<li>not be limp,</li>
<li>hot,</li>
<li>in such a large amount that you again feel that your hiding grandma used a bigger plate just so that she could throw in some extra fries for you, </li>
<li>present in a right secret ratio of crispy to crunchy (it's always a delight to find a surprising piece of French Fries crunch, but neither too often nor too few and far between),</li>
<li>very hot, </li>
<li>actually taste spicy, when they say spiced French Fries; and are not served with chilli flakes sprinkled on them as an excuse for the added price and adjective.</li>
<li>and hot. Have I mentioned it enough already?</li>
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Nothing can be more depressing than eating the first grab of Fries off the plate and realising it does not adhere to all the commandments listed above. You might as well order a pitcher of lemon iced tea and drink it without caring for the right balance between the lemony flavour and tea-ish flavour. If you find yourself in a situation where you get a bad plate of Fries and the short end of the stick, muster the courage to return the former. Because you have no idea the kind of happiness real French Fries can give you.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pearls Before Swine: Describing French Fries in an apt way.</td></tr>
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Gauravhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11666945180040797699noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-46958694503639212712011-06-10T12:25:00.000-07:002011-06-13T03:00:50.300-07:00Do You Read the Newspaper?<div style="text-align: justify;">I was asked this question by the two interviewers at my Personal Interview round of Common Entrance Test: Do you read the newspaper?<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Now by general knowledge, I had learnt that this question is almost a trap. Before this question was brought up, we had discussed at length about my profession as a Marketing Executive, about some concepts of Marketing which I answered correctly and about my general opinion on what can make India a global economy. And hence the above question was posed as if to find a chink in my shining confidence which I had managed to portray.<br /><br />I can very well imagine any other confident boy would have said 'yes' and that as well might have been true in his case (cheers!) and right upon this affirmation, the interviewers would have sprung a weird cosmology related question to that possibly gujju commerce graduate. He would have confessed his ignorance about the issue and the interviewers would have parroted their well-rehearsed back-lash, 'Oh! Then what do you read in the newspapers? Just Bombay Times and Mumbai Mirror, eh? (sic)' And that would have forced the poor chap to be defenceless against such allegation of cultural tackiness.<br /><br />But I had decided that I shall be truthful. Even though I was barely prepared for the Group Discussion and Personal Interview rounds, not having read about the current events or 'hot topics' around the world, I had made up my mind that I shall face them with honesty and little of what I knew.<br /><br />The reply I gave came out as quite genuine, I said, 'Frankly speaking, no, I barely get time to read the newspaper... even watch television for that matter -'<br /><br />'And that's because you are <span style="font-style: italic;">busy</span>?' interjected the blunt one.<br /><br />I smugly replied, '<span style="font-style: italic;">No, </span>that's because I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">occupied</span>!'<br /><br />He did not pursue the argument further. My mum rebuked me for my audacity when I narrated this incident to her, but I must state that <span style="font-style: italic;">Honesty can never be completely conveyed if it is restrained by Modesty. </span><br /><br />Hereupon, the other interviewer asks, 'But you are into marketing, don't you think, as a marketeer, you should be abreast with the current news?'<br /><br />To which I furnished a reply, complete with drawing quotation marks in the air and what not, 'Yes, indeed. But the thing is, work keeps me occupied almost throughout the day. I cannot afford the luxury of setting aside a special hour during my breakfast to go through the entire newspaper. Honestly, I don't want to "encumber myself" with the political news, scams and scandals. I have lost my interest in watching news channels since they introduced background music while showing video telecasts. Having said that, I do have a general overview about who's who and who's done what and what's going on, it's just that these days, I don't want to pursue and follow each and every news item and form an opinion about it. As far as my being into marketing is concerned, I'm pretty much well read about different products and brands. Since I need to spend a lot of time online, I do read about such stuff and that, I daresay, is enough fodder for me.'<br /><br />After I finished I had a sense of foreboding that they thought I was being too smart for my general appearance. Because barring a few glances that I permit myself to such news while surfing the internet, I'm not really much of an Economic Times breed of a reader. Shameful it is, I agree, but I just hope it's a phase or a passing bad habit. I am more of a P. G. Wodehouse, Stephan Pastis, Ayn Rand, J. K. Rowling type of reader: all of whom are at the unacceptable extremities of non-approved reading material providers for Government's public entrance exam.<br /><br />Well, anyway, as if to hit me in the eye with a wet sock for showing such nerve, the lesser friendly interviewer further questioned, 'OK, then tell me: who is the Finance Minister of India?'<br /><br />Imagine my face like the chat emoticon :|<br /><br />'Pranab Mukherjee.'<br /><br />'See now how do you think you know this?' he demanded with new-found vigour.<br /><br />'But this is general knowledge,' I exclaimed with already-present fervour. 'I don't need to read the newspaper to know <span style="font-style: italic;">this!</span> I'm not dumb!'<br /><br />That was that on the issue of reading the newspaper. We exchanged formal pleasantries and I walked out, feeling happy about myself, not because I defended an unhealthy habit of not reading the newspaper, but because I defended those species of (nerdy) readers who sustain on a daily prescription of humour, fiction and fantasy and can still walk around as equals among the species of those omniscient readers, with the presence of just simple wit and stark honesty.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKLV2x_DnfvRwOVXJMfPEPTB2feqAEqEJms6Vi0jP4Sj1bFTFatSnZ4Tz-QgxsGokZkISYiAvf6ZBhGiCBhQz4xlWHao8DIUqi0nbqiEOtPiqcIprF7JYDZxsmQZB_7fDnpZQ7Sr0k58M/s1600/locked+hope.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKLV2x_DnfvRwOVXJMfPEPTB2feqAEqEJms6Vi0jP4Sj1bFTFatSnZ4Tz-QgxsGokZkISYiAvf6ZBhGiCBhQz4xlWHao8DIUqi0nbqiEOtPiqcIprF7JYDZxsmQZB_7fDnpZQ7Sr0k58M/s400/locked+hope.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617379885528146146" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-21062061814035439702010-03-15T19:09:00.000-07:002010-10-11T06:33:45.923-07:00The Dirty Politics<div style="text-align: justify;">"<span style="font-style: italic;">Is Mayvati fit to be the next Prime Minister?</span>" asked a news channel. '<span style="font-style: italic;">No</span>' was the reflex answer that rang in my head. I did not follow the debate or the discussion since I was of the firm opinion that she should be kept away from anything that resembles <span style="font-style: italic;">power, public money, </span>or <span style="font-style: italic;">politics. </span>The next day I read in a news article that she was felicitated with a Rs 5o million worth garland made solely of Rs 1,000 notes. I was thoroughly disgusted: Sheer politics and desperate flamboyance which does not even suit the new beacon of dalits.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Mayavati Kumari, started off with petty posts in politics. Initially, <span style="font-style: italic;">behenji, </span>coming from an humble background with oiled plaits and ponytails, fielded the dalits for their support and had an anti-upper caste mindset. This attitude changed (along with her hairstyle which now was a short bob) when she reached out for the support of Muslims and the upper-class Hindus in the 2007 elections. A person with more political knowledge than me may tag me to be prejudiced against her. But I am so. She may pose as an inspiration for the Dalits when she makes political achievements, but erecting her own statues all over the place is pure vanity. Now there was a Dr Ambedkar statue where she built a Rs 1o million police post with ultra modern facilities and interiors (at par a luxury hotel) just for its protection. A 700 metre road that led to that statue was lined with designer lamps. Her birthdays are a grand media event where money and spirit flow in parallel streams. If this is supposed to be an inspiration to the Dalits, I don't think so, in fact this is like waving a piece of meat in front of the famished animals.<br /><br />Having stated this, can India, which is such a culturally diverse and religiously pluralistic country, afford to have a PM like her? We do not need a politician. We do not need a manipulator who is skilled only in one-upmanship. I'm sure, if she attains that post, her cabinet will be filled with only her loyalists. The criterion for portfolio allocation will be based on the favors they did her. Comparing her with the current Prime Minister Dr Manmohan Singh, my prejudice against her only aggravates. The supremely educated and intelligent PM is the best representative India can have on the international platform. Be it the climate control policies or nuclear deals or border issues or global recession problems, I can imagine the embarrassment we might have faced had Mayawati been in his place. Can you imagine the way the woman, who is richly marinated in gutter politics, could have carried herself on the global stage as a premier representative of one of the most important countries of the world? The way Dr Singh financially revived the entire nation when he was the Finance Minister of India speaks volumes about his capacity as an able PM. He also happens to be the first non-political person to qualify as prime ministerial candidate of India. After a stupendous tenure, if India sees that dalit leader as its PM we'll be soon settling into times governed by caste supremacy and even more reservations.<br /><br />As I said before, I am prejudiced against her, but not her dalit-ness. Responsibility of a nation is a tremendous and an all-inclusive responsibility and not an opportunity to glorify your petty agendas. Dr Ambedkar was born a dalit, and that meant he had to make do with limited financial resources, educational opportunities, social displeasure and so on. In spite of all that he strove hard and became highly educated. That was when he ceased being a dalit technically, never mind what he was born as. His attitude and forward thinking did not behove the Dalit tag. Mayawati was also born as a dalit, became literate with a few qualifications, amassed millions worth of assets but her blinkered outlook still make her a thorough dalit. What she is doing for the dalits is not going to help them much. She may give them concessions, provide for reservations, but in the end they will be remain dalits, in their own eyes, in the eyes of the rest of the people. Instead of uplifting them from the lower stratum of the society she is providing them with meagre supplies for a more comfortable stay there itself.<br /><br />The brand equity Dr Singh imparts to India is unsurpassable, and election of a person lesser able than him will be a step down, while in <span style="font-style: italic;">behenji's </span>case, a plunge down. <a href="http://gauravtarkar.blogspot.com/2009/03/democracy-right-prescription.html">The unsure nature of Indian Democracy worries me.</a> Because it is hardly in the hands of the few knowledgeable and more in the hands of even fewer politicians. At the time when the world looks upon the India's stand and opinion on issues of terrorism and carbon control measures as pivotal between the developed and developing camps, we need to give that stand some substance of credibility. At the time when international universities are setting up campuses in India, we need to provide them a sophisticated academic atmosphere. Is it necessary to elaborate further who is the abler candidate?<br /><br />Having written all this, I would not appeal to you, the reader, saying words like 'Let us look at the clearer picture' or 'Let us try to redefine our perception'. It is time you became self-opinionated and kept away from the herd mentality and took the right decision not only while voting but also while switching to a different television channel.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVscPoD9hsIYGwXgH1GD9Oz3eP54zezj-f4_kgbwrk-dHZbwokhJpdNIYuu5RANbHWT2wPnXNWP-Of-_3AJ_jq-czAl9wc6lQWi18fSlb9bTDgP-kfr6NrQVEJ4tOcDxGEd8M9dcZ475U/s1600-h/Power_of_the_King_by_Moma_Vujisic.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 281px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVscPoD9hsIYGwXgH1GD9Oz3eP54zezj-f4_kgbwrk-dHZbwokhJpdNIYuu5RANbHWT2wPnXNWP-Of-_3AJ_jq-czAl9wc6lQWi18fSlb9bTDgP-kfr6NrQVEJ4tOcDxGEd8M9dcZ475U/s400/Power_of_the_King_by_Moma_Vujisic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450595947834047026" border="0" /></a>P.S. I would like to quote King Julian from Madagascar 2: <span style="font-style: italic;">Whatever happened to separation of classes?</span><br /></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-32325471948548618532010-01-15T10:26:00.000-08:002010-01-15T12:12:14.932-08:00The Strange Feelings<div style="text-align: justify;">"The Uncomfortable Feeling" is the worst type of all the feelings I daresay. I can tolerate guilt, boredom, envy, inferiority complex, embarrassment and some other mild feelings, but <span style="font-style: italic;">The Uncomfortable Feeling </span>wins hands down. I write about this because I did something in college - and I shall certainly not describe what - which has got me this itchy feeling. To be more clear, it was something which others might not have found stupid or strange, but I, for one, did find it so. I dunno if anyone of you ever did something goofy and then had this feeling at the back of your mind nudging you the entire day, reminding you of that moment making you wish you hadn't done it. And you are like 'Arrgh! Tomorrow, I'm gonna take some corrective steps and act really cool.' If only there was a mental eraser! I would have erased that incident first from others' memory and then mine.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Boredom is a valuable feeling. I can't say it for others, but when I am bored, I tend to introspect a lot. It can be probably because when you are so bored to do anything or can't think of what you can do, you just sit back and stare into space or potter about on Facebook. I advanced to a higher level of boredom some days back. I got bored even of Facebook. I couldn't stand reading what my friends were becoming fans of. Either it's <span style="font-style: italic;">'someone became a fan of talking on the last bench' </span>or <span style="font-style: italic;">'... became a fan of I don't like it when people don't reply to my messages quickly'. </span>I am so sick of it that I don't care to elaborate on it further. Facebook really changed my daily life. Initially, with Orkut, where you had hardly anything to pass your time with, you couldn't get so addicted. And it was possible to log off after a while. But with Facebook I had this compulsive habit of commenting on some or the other post, diligently ploughing on Farmville, playing Social Interview and many other petty applications. I must really warn those who are reading this and if they can identify themselves with with this trait, that this habit can suck the real qualities out of you. I can't remember the last time when I read a book for at least two hours at a stretch. I have been trudging along with the fat novel <span style="font-style: italic;">Atlas Shrugged </span>for almost an eternity now. The fact is, all this time, while I had been glued to Facebook, I did not realise that instead of curing my boredom I was aggravating it. I have nothing against Facebook, and don't even understand how this post strayed on to be so anti-FB but somehow Facebook and Boredom are two words I can easily co-relate. My reading habit has taken such a blow that I can actually see for myself that this post is the worst ever till now when it comes to content, creativity and style. <span style="font-style: italic;">Detestable!<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>Another feeling is the <span style="font-style: italic;">'</span>Yearning for Solitude<span style="font-style: italic;">'<span style="font-style: italic;">. </span></span>Remember those times, when you were traveling to college or work, and just wanted to be busy with your thoughts when your hyper-enthusiastic friend appeared out of nowhere beaming like a Miss World? It's physically painful when the guy goes on blabbering on topics you are least interested to even think about. I sometimes wonder during such times if I, too, ever was so thick that I couldn't take the hint to shut up when the other person was keeping mum. This <span style="font-style: italic;">Yearning for Solitude Feeling </span>may arise because of many things: a sour incident, bad mood, fight with someone and so on. And when you are in a blissful solitude you are actually nursing or self-healing your bad mood. When you have had a satisfactory time in solitude, you are fresh enough to be social again. However, this feeling should not be confused with reclusiveness. <span style="font-style: italic;">Yearning for Solitude </span>is perfectly natural. For the ripples in the lake to settle into a still surface it is better if there blew not even a breeze.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijyga6xtnjwEkA3poJfWNzZXSi568yLArrR-Xbv7GRB6KYvCrkSyJRehzaIOUIft6-r65GE1JithKY_l0KGS95pmSESKHtolM6_IDUQbELebPeppRaTGhB7WS7kXtuFcMJCGrFrb0_QRU/s1600-h/Solitude_by_Ginsui_rin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijyga6xtnjwEkA3poJfWNzZXSi568yLArrR-Xbv7GRB6KYvCrkSyJRehzaIOUIft6-r65GE1JithKY_l0KGS95pmSESKHtolM6_IDUQbELebPeppRaTGhB7WS7kXtuFcMJCGrFrb0_QRU/s400/Solitude_by_Ginsui_rin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427060502623786786" border="0" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-10722835658366840812009-12-18T09:32:00.000-08:002010-12-24T10:03:26.956-08:00The Simple Christmas<div style="text-align: justify;">It was already eleven when Lock left the store. It was Christmas eve and he had to attend to several customers with their Christmas shopping that day. The store resembled an adorable shop from toy-land with strings of lights stretching along the walls and over the windows. They had a huge Christmas tree set right in the middle of the floor. It was grander than the last year's. Lock, the other assistants and the store-owner had decorated it together. At night, it looked so stunning through the windows that passers-by would actually come in to admire it.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />When Lock stepped out in the December chill, he noticed the winter this year was less harsh. But it was cold enough to be a good company for his hot coffee at home. He was going to brew a steaming cup of coffee for himself, he had decided. The Christmas eve dinner at the store was filling; the store-owner had a good taste in wine.<br /><br />That day Lock had bought a shiny Christmas tree star to place atop his Christmas tree. He was excited about it and he couldn't wait to show it to Lia. She would certainly love it. Their old one had to be powered by electricity and did not look much appealing. He was sure this one would light up the entire room on its own... and also Lia's eyes.<br /><br />The living room looked warm in the glow of the Christmas tree. Lia had decorated the tree beautifully with colourful Christmas balls, light bulbs and tiny figurines of reindeer and a portly Santa Claus in a sledge. When Lock placed the new star at the top of the tree, it seemed as if Santa Claus with his entourage of reindeer were flying up towards it. He placed his gifts under the tree beside Lia's and looked around the room. He loved his home.<br /><br />Lia had already dozed off in the bedroom while reading a book. Lock silently settled on the couch feeling the warm china cup and relishing the silent glow of the only ornament in the room: the Christmas tree. The warmth of the first draught that spread through his body was what he had longed for while walking back home.<br /><br />Lia appeared at the living-room door.<br /><br />'Hey, did I wake you up?' asked Lock.<br /><br />'No, I was waiting for you. You seem to have had a long day.'<br /><br />He nodded. Lia snuggled up with him in his arms.<br /><br />'Try the coffee,' Lock offered. 'The beans are some new arrivals of the season at the store.'<br /><br />'Mmm!' said Lia as she took a sip. 'They are perfectly roasted.'<br /><br />A beep from his wristwatch told them it was midnight. It was Christmas. The glow of the new star now seemed magically radiant. He realised that it was the warmth of Lia against him that he had actually yearned for while walking back home.<br /><br />'Happy Christmas, Lock,' whispered Lia, as she rested her head on his shoulders.<br /><br />He lovingly kissed her hair, 'Happy Christmas, dearest.'<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvtNYeGgO1eIXtG5Rj2mJsgqQ0N8-lYTPrUyefG_FmTFpERbx1TsHTgzdrVjPGZX-o1NVzWu7PlyOx8QZcYBSFMQziV4me8_LU29oy3lIDrvtg1MHu0_Y4GzfjjazSclLAeoDnsAbIFk/s1600-h/christmas+tree.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvtNYeGgO1eIXtG5Rj2mJsgqQ0N8-lYTPrUyefG_FmTFpERbx1TsHTgzdrVjPGZX-o1NVzWu7PlyOx8QZcYBSFMQziV4me8_LU29oy3lIDrvtg1MHu0_Y4GzfjjazSclLAeoDnsAbIFk/s400/christmas+tree.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416646223627442306" border="0" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-2370785450747808272009-09-01T22:09:00.000-07:002009-09-02T22:48:21.150-07:00Random Rambling 2<div style="text-align: justify;">I like the way my <span style="font-style: italic;">Random Rambling</span> posts come about to me. They are nothing but the thinking of my hands. Yes, my hands and not my brain. If I were to think by my brain, I'd give a thought a thought and then some more thought to make it sound interesting and add a thought provoking example to make it more thoughtful. Yes, brain-power is complicated. I guess there is still an on-going research on how a brain actually functions. Scientists have still not found out what it is in the brain that "thinks". I think the Brain is really smart. Scientists found out how the universe originated, right? How did they do it? They used their Brain. They invented vaccinations against several diseases using their Brain. Their Brain works on other people when it comes to interpreting the behaviour of a criminal or a dyslexic child. To cut the meandering short, the Brain can decode anything and anyone. But it can't decode itself. Can you cut your own hair? I think not; you need to go to a salon for that. Can you give a massage to yourself? No! Hence, probably even a scientist will be unable to unravel the mysteries of the Brain by using his own brain. We work <span style="font-style: italic;">not because of </span>the Brain, but we <span style="font-style: italic;">are the Brain.</span> So it is little dorky of us to probe the brain and try to understand it. (Almost) everything in this universe is within the analytical realms of our Brain. If it is so smart a thing, why would it analyse itself? Can we design a robot which can un-assemble itself to scratch and then restore itself back again to its working-self? I think the Brain is just too brainy to come out in the open within the grasp of the lewdly ambitious scientists. For that I think we need avail the services of some extra-terrestrial being or someone without a brain and something else in its place. There! Case Closed! Either my brain is dead and smelly like a fossil to come up with crap like that or it is the representative leader of all the brains - smart and stupid - in the world, because it just saved them all from the exposure to the brainless humans.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NJmthuRNJ0I7l8GgV5uobv0Vdk0e_r5snHa-x-EX0DwBWqOvb6K1_p-Z_sf8ixn9E2pkXOrD2FhN1gQVQC_yp1olr7qDv1gxBaTqISxKkZWyMGIqHDamnsvOoIUEOItKLlk1HSW_lxU/s1600-h/brain.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NJmthuRNJ0I7l8GgV5uobv0Vdk0e_r5snHa-x-EX0DwBWqOvb6K1_p-Z_sf8ixn9E2pkXOrD2FhN1gQVQC_yp1olr7qDv1gxBaTqISxKkZWyMGIqHDamnsvOoIUEOItKLlk1HSW_lxU/s400/brain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376763897752584242" border="0" /></a>Speaking of brains, I say people must start using them while giving their opinions. An Opinion is one thing that is the most wrongly priced commodity in today's times and it also does not depend in any way on the inflation index. One person's Opinion can be precious; it can change the way others think. Other person's opinion can be useless. Take a newspaper poll, for example. If Pakistan is tampering with its missiles (obtained from US) and targeting them on India, why should the common people be asked for their opinion on whether it is safe or unsafe? It is a stupid question in the first place. Why not share with us the opinion of the Indian and American nuclear scientists and (brainy) politicians? The newspaper did write about it, I don't deny. It's just that I care more for the opinion of such people... who are inside the loop. I don't think my opinion would have been influenced in anyway by the results of the poll. A minority did say in the poll that it is not a matter of concern, while a majority said it is. Does that mean, that our concern should be heightened or lowered by the percentage division of these polls? Can we say, 'Eh! There's a 24% chance that it's nothing dangerous, we need not worry'? or 'Oh my god! there is a 98% chance we can be struck with their missile, I hope the 2% chance turns out to be true.'? NO! We can't say stuff like that because like it or not, there's a missile dangling loosely above your head, we better not fiddle with it or it might just go - BOOM! In this case, it is the useless opinion that is asked for. I am intelligent enough to form a conclusion by myself and do not need an opinion of someone who is as stupid as me to support it. Worse than this are those who vote for 'can't say'! What kind of opinion is that? If you don't know what 'you can say' then just don't vote, as simple as that. It's but an Opinion wasted. Anyways, this is my opinion about Opinion and I don't want anyone's opinion about it.<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-74943891091818072372009-07-21T09:32:00.000-07:002010-09-05T10:44:19.694-07:00A Pure-Blood or a Muggle?<div style="text-align: justify;">If there's anything that irks a Harry Potter fan, it is those people who claim they are "HP fans" too because "they have seen all the movies, and find Emma Watson really hot". These are the morons, desperate to be counted amongst the <span style="font-style: italic;">in-crowd,</span> who have not read even a single book of the series but try to jump onto the bandwagon when the Harry Potter rage sweeps the world (in the form of a book or a movie release). The basic differences between a true Harry Potter fan and a wanna-be fan/non-reader are these:<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);"><span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);">1</span>.</span> The true fans have read all the books and are crazier about the book than the movie.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);">2.</span> If the adaptation of the book to the movie is not perfect, the true fans frown upon it. The phoney ones are just happy with the amount of special effects and Hermione's length of role in the movie. Even then, the true fans <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> like the movie, because after all, it's a Harry Potter Movie and a standard visualisation to their imagination.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);">3.</span> The true fans separate themselves from the wanna-be's by calling themselves pure-blooded and the wanna-be's, Muggles. But among themselves they dare not call each other even pure-blooded because that's a premise of only the magical world.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);">4.</span> For the true fans a Harry Potter movie is different from any usual English movie. And they hate it if a critic (who's most of the times a non-reader) rates the movie as any other English movie. They believe it's none of the Muggles' business to give their opinion about Harry Potter as only their own opinion matters the most and is exclusive.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);">5.</span> The true fans understand an insiders' joke in the movie, while the phoney laugh along as and when the audience laughs.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);">6.</span> The true fans are peeved when Michael Gambon dramatically brandishes his wand, unnecesarily. The lesser-witted ones are awed by his style.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);">7.</span> The true fans know who Michael Gambon played in the movie. The wanna-be's are clueless.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);">8.</span> Some of the true fans start a countdown many days before the release of the movie. Those who don't sheepishly admit that they didn't think of starting one, but admire the mania of their brethren. The Muggles ask the pure-blooded "kaunsa part aa raha hai" and take their girl/boy friends to the movie. The fans obviously watch the movie with their like-minded friends <span style="font-style: italic;">only</span>.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 255, 255);">9.</span> A real fan will be physically annoyed when Ron's character acts like a joker in the movie reduced to a mere side-kick to the brave Harry and the intelligent Hermione. They know the real Ron in the book is actually a fiercely loyal friend to Harry and someone who always loved Hermione and no one else (unlike the way Harry had a serious thing for Cho) and not just a friend to be a butt of all jokes and embarrassments in the movie. The wanna-be fans will laugh <span style="font-style: italic;">at </span>Ron and will not realise that most of Ron's important dialogues from the book are blabbered by Emma Watson.<br /><br />That was that, now decide which camp you belong to.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgefMunWIDaByvuFp2wrUYHL-17CQaka2T9-CNzVgwRxafKB0kKIJ2O-m7YOehzywY7xVuLGF25HLLVxzehPRyPpiM59AB_jtUc22S_0fT_SmKbMeEX8fFY-HDPQRJmk-2lGRS_WdsmE7g/s1600-h/harry_potter_half_blood_prince_dumbledore_potter.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgefMunWIDaByvuFp2wrUYHL-17CQaka2T9-CNzVgwRxafKB0kKIJ2O-m7YOehzywY7xVuLGF25HLLVxzehPRyPpiM59AB_jtUc22S_0fT_SmKbMeEX8fFY-HDPQRJmk-2lGRS_WdsmE7g/s400/harry_potter_half_blood_prince_dumbledore_potter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361963062105448978" border="0" /></a></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-89525575189688738572009-07-02T06:02:00.001-07:002012-05-19T00:20:10.500-07:00What's in the Name? Dude, Everything!<div style="text-align: justify;">What's in the name, you ask? Well, I'd say Shakespeare had no sense of sound-vision synchronisation. I was mighty pissed off by the unnecessary and juvenile brouhaha over naming of the newly made sea-link on the Bombay seaside. To be frank I really liked the name <span style="font-style: italic;">The Bandra-Worli Sea Link </span>or just <span style="font-style: italic;">The BWSL. </span>It suits the structure. Take a look at it once, I mean, really take in the majestic view of it standing in the sea. Although it's not some haute couture architectural feat, it's certainly got a definitive style that suits Mumbai. When I saw a picture of the grey python stretching across the sea, belittling the sun behind and rooted firmly in the matching dirty grey waters of the Arabian, the first word that escaped me was '<span style="font-style: italic;">wicked!' </span>It is a thorough masculine work of construction with no hint of art and beauty. It has got that rugged look that only an engineer devoid of an artistic instinct can give it's baby creation. It's not painted red or yellow or blue on the advice of some nancy designer or astrologer (who, btw, are dime a dozen here) to supposedly represent the spirit or energy of Mumbai, but it has been left as it is - raw and bare - to camouflage itself with the waters in which it stands sturdily and promisingly.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVxR08KcZ3cTBnsAppTgxz-6CDOjdewp3SA0sfqLX9XZ07R7J89FhqQ9xX12q44Inrljd6wiahR5CvbZ90Skjm17_NVTxX9vbeKN0cdBkpBQZsObxIaDkSp8K-ZvKGPNyhDyZ8HhSZkGc/s1600-h/3275318739_8943be36e8.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVxR08KcZ3cTBnsAppTgxz-6CDOjdewp3SA0sfqLX9XZ07R7J89FhqQ9xX12q44Inrljd6wiahR5CvbZ90Skjm17_NVTxX9vbeKN0cdBkpBQZsObxIaDkSp8K-ZvKGPNyhDyZ8HhSZkGc/s400/3275318739_8943be36e8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353912210235516114" border="0" /></a></div>After this description, what name can one think fits aptly for such a structure? For me <span style="font-style: italic;">The BWSL </span>sounds coolly perfect and so international (I dunno why, but it reminds me of YSL). Of course the article 'The' should be there; it adds to the uniqueness. But no! that is not the same way our politicians look at that structure, apparently. Sharad Pawar, being a perfect toe-licker to Sonia G, wanted it to be named after the Rajiv Gandhi. Omni-farter motormouth Raj Thackeray wanted to name it after Jyotirao Phule or Shahu Maharaj or the Dalit leader Dr Ambedkar.<br /><br />Now I adequately respect Pawar and Thackeray. I support the latter's ideology and trust the former's intellect as our Agricultural Minister. But I do not endorse their sense of style. OK fine, Rajiv Gandhi was an idol for the youth and will always remain so. Hence, it is rightly an honor to name an award after him and give it to extremely talented individuals. And after all, even a name, especially of a highly honoured man, has a value which depreciates because of over-familiarity. And the name <span style="font-style: italic;">Rajiv Gandhi </span>relates to youth power and reformation (he was the one who ushered in the IT revolution in India). I wouldn't vote for the sea-link to be named after him with all due respect.<br /><br />And with even extra respect than what is due, just to evade the ire of the sensitive, I would rather vote <span style="font-style: italic;">against </span>the sea-link being named after Jyotirao or Shahu Maharaj or Ambedkar. I see the structure the way I have described above. It's a fixation for me I daresay. Looking up at it, it commands awe and amazement, and hence certainly deserves a name suitable in the same manner. I consider it a sacrilege of the masculinity and a snubbing to the architect's creation if a humongous work of passion, which is also crucial infrastructural achievement, is named<span style="font-style: italic;"> Shahu Maharaj Setu </span>or <span style="font-style: italic;">Phule Pool </span>or something tacky of that sort. It's a sea-link for heaven's sake, not a bridge! And how would it sound in an international city like Mumbai where property prices are amongst the highest five in the world, if the sea-link is named after the beacon of the Dalits, Ambedkar? I can even imagine the Dalits swarming the sea-link on Ambedkar <span style="font-style: italic;">jayanti, </span>disrupting the traffic. It's a fat chance that that might happen, but if the tactless ex-CM could introduce <span style="font-style: italic;">chatt poojas </span>in Mumbai, such a fiasco is not beyond imagination.<br /><br />Anyway, I just hope the foul name-game dies down within a short time, and the people themselves unofficially name it as <span style="font-style: italic;">The Bandra-Worli Sea Link. </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><br />The Titanic (the ship) made history with its size that stretched into robust vanity. The vessel was christened as it was, titanic. It wasn't named Queen Elizabeth or Queen Mary. It was named Titanic! The point is that the name does influence how you perceive a particular thing or a person. Probably the ship wouldn't have been as breath-taking had it been called by some other common name. There is a lot in a name. It decides the brand value. It plays with one's involuntary senses when one hears it or says it or reads it and projects an impression that lingers around the object like an aura.<br /><br />Shakespeare: <span style="font-style: italic;">What's in the name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet!<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">The Blithering Idiot: </span>Rubbish! It would have been impossible to visualise Romeo and Juliet as romantic had they been called Ted and Lucy instead.<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-53978586943942207562009-06-10T10:00:00.000-07:002009-06-10T10:46:08.815-07:00Lord Kill the Pain<div style="text-align: justify;">Unfortunately, my last visit to my old dentist had scarred me for life when it comes to experiencing some pain, especially dental. It was few months before my 10th standard examination, in the summer of 2005, when I had to undergo a root canal treatment. To cut out the details and coming to the point I will describe what I had to go through. OK, she had the cavity cleaned and drilled up to her content to expose all the nerves. The way she described how the infection reaches the nerves made me picture some wriggling worms, sticking out of my pre-molar tooth, which had to be stuffed inside. With every little stroke that she took to clean up the inside of the tooth, it was not just paining but stinging intolerably. I had dug all my nails in the arm rest of the chair. A random and frantic glance at her nonchalant countenance teasingly conveyed to me that painlessness can be bliss. <span style=""> </span>Then it was time for the horrific incident that physically brings back a faint sensation of the feeling even now, giving me goosebumps. The dentist said that she would have to administer the local anesthesia to stop the pain. She produced an injection with a huge needle, bent the needle by almost a right angle in front of my eyes, a bit threateningly and heartlessly, I thought. Looking at the needle itself the throbbing had risen to a higher level. I can’t help being a little exaggerated here, but the lady rammed the needle in the tooth, pinned my forehead down against the headrest, and continued with her <i style="">injecting</i>. I was twitching I think, though don’t remember it, but my head was held steady by her strong grip which was equally strong while working on the tooth too. I wanted to scream, but restrained myself and spared her the unnecessary drama. When she retrieved, the throbbing now had surged to head which was also in pain. She gave me some time to recover and the anesthesia to have its effect. And then after that, the further process was painless but that is not the point… the point is that it was freakin’ painful!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5xIb4GcnF-Vz4I5iC99_2SDvmHohCDO2HdV6gTObgLqLTcvEVqqZ6K1ynWblNIEnJhfZxvVtLFj1cNm1F5CionyfgEdVFAnqKCYx3MlZ8K70bDRrPbN56e2-bOVXeR-ZdGNZ_0igIUg/s1600-h/pain.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5xIb4GcnF-Vz4I5iC99_2SDvmHohCDO2HdV6gTObgLqLTcvEVqqZ6K1ynWblNIEnJhfZxvVtLFj1cNm1F5CionyfgEdVFAnqKCYx3MlZ8K70bDRrPbN56e2-bOVXeR-ZdGNZ_0igIUg/s400/pain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345755685739156722" border="0" /></a>P.S. Prefer a dentist with a smile on his/her face and a pink wallpaper.<br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-59525653230487916852009-05-27T11:27:00.000-07:002009-07-02T20:37:54.124-07:00Random Rambling 1<div style="text-align: justify;">Typing anything before your mind makes a decision is sort of tough. But these days, I had taken a break from reading Ayn Rand's <span style="font-style: italic;">Atlas Shrugged </span>to read some business book, and my linguistic skills took a nasty blow in the derriere. One might wonder what that has got to do with linguistic skills, but I'll say, hey man, that's got a great deal to do with it, and I mean it. First of all, using such cuss language along with the words 'linguistic skills' itself is gross. In short, let me explain, when you are reading a book with sophisticated English, it sort of rubs into you and your usage of language reflects that. The business book that I had to read was good in content but abysmal in language. Americans really can't speak classy-ly even to save their lives. Well, speaking about language anyways, I read this in Readers' Digest long time back: There was this person who had traveled in various countries, and had particularly observed the 'no smoking' signs posted in buses in those countries. Now I don't remember all the signs he had mentioned, but because of stark contrast I do remember the American and the British signs. The American buses request the passengers by saying, 'Please do not smoke', while the British buses say, 'You are graciously requested to refrain from smoking.' Nice isn't it? Or as the British would probably put it, 'Certainly the most impeccable way to make you point cleah!' (That <span style="font-style: italic;">h</span> is on purpose OK)<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />An important point to remember while typing random stuff is that you should never mention it too often that you are being random, as the fun lies in being understated. Ah, understated! Whatever happened to being understated? People these days are so in-your-face and naked! <span style="font-style: italic;">Sheesh! </span>I am talking about the reality shows that are mushrooming up these days. If the cheap dance-shows and stand-up comedians are not enough, people are interchanging the places of contestants in these two shows. The children are trying to be stand-up comedians. And boy are these brats so cheap! They think they are funny because they crack some slimy jokes which can tingle the funny bone of only a <span style="font-style: italic;">pan wallah</span> in a roadside <span style="font-style: italic;">tapri</span>, but the judges laugh at their jokes, guffaw to be exact. But why won't they? If you are an out-of-work loser of an actor or some politician/sportsperson with criminal record and if you are being payed a hefty amount, you'd laugh even at your own mother! The rural imports a.k.a. stand-up comics, on the other hand are trying to shake their body to Bollywood music in what can only be assumed as some Hallowe'en costumes. The breed of judges is the same here. Analogically, talent plays no role in either judging or contesting. Throw in some tawdry melodrama and people from the wrong side of the tracks will scrub you some measly TRPs. One buxom lady, it is heard, is also gonna arrange a wedding for herself on the TV, right from the groom hunting. She shall not be mentioned on my blog for obvious reasons of maintaining the C-Quotient, but let me hint you that all about her is not real and her image (figurative & literal) commits a sacrilege of her first name. I watched one episode of Paris Hilton's reality show, <span style="font-style: italic;">Paris Hilton's New BFF. </span>That show surpasses the boundaries of being dumb and our <span style="font-style: italic;">desi</span> contestants, against the ones on their show, suddenly appear so dignified and brimming with self-respect. Why would anyone on this earth want to race with others to become someone's supposed best friend? According to Paris, she's had lots of best friends but some didn't last while some did, (duh!) so she was in search of a new one now (sic). That proves one thing though, you can't survive on moderation in this world. Either you gotta be supernova intelligent, with IQ double your weight, or nerve searingly stupid with IQ equal to the number of fingers on your left hand which should've been through an accident, only then can you be so rich that people would find whatever you do as cool... or in Paris's style: <span style="font-style: italic;">hawt.<br /><br /></span>OK, I have rambled a lot. Trying to cut the size of my posts these days. The B. I. says: <span style="font-style: italic;">Just think random, and probably you'll find the missing link. </span>Thank you very much.<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span>P. S. I have not used 'Backspace' even once while writing this post to maintain the authenticity of the Randomness. It's been used though only to correct spelling errors. Don't like 'em on my blog, OK.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Osps0HMXkSVXrghyphenhyphenUKq9DtYKAYgjACpXpws9MAqoSk8_O_YQKeOdEV6zL-RX7NCb74EtDyP5ZWNHy_Sk9Le_vqbWRw0I9S8tkgmkmOBwheEf2xAPSwltS3jOXIp5ziHPCerHAwtvAm0/s1600-h/audience.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Osps0HMXkSVXrghyphenhyphenUKq9DtYKAYgjACpXpws9MAqoSk8_O_YQKeOdEV6zL-RX7NCb74EtDyP5ZWNHy_Sk9Le_vqbWRw0I9S8tkgmkmOBwheEf2xAPSwltS3jOXIp5ziHPCerHAwtvAm0/s400/audience.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340594273102820946" border="0" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-16423289493815952332009-05-06T10:22:00.000-07:002009-05-29T09:01:01.710-07:00The Idle Masturbation of a Jobless Mind<div style="text-align: justify;">Boredom... I dunno why, but I consider it to be a state of mind more blissful than sleep. Not the plain boredom though, but severe boredom, when you have absolutely no idea about what you want to do. You just sit there staring in the blank space. These lines written till now are forced out despite boredom. God! I didn't know I could suck so much... even as I write I have absolutely no idea where I am going to end up or what I am gonna write on. Twice already I have used three dots which show an indefinite end to ideas leaving them hanging in the air.<br /></div><br />That was so irrelevant and unrelated.<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />After 10 minutes... I browsed through my friends list on Orkut profile. I realised I had added some just because they sent me a request and I have to bump into them more than one time in a week. I deleted them nevertheless. I like to keep only my friends close to me, not some acquaintances. I have some friends in my list who have more than 1000 'Orkut friends'. Talk about quality and quantity, eh!<br /><br />I don't like anybody to hover behind me while I am sitting at the computer. I know they may not be trying to read what is there on screen (even though its nothing censurable) but what the heck... I am goddamn bored, I can make any kind of statements as far as I am not asking them to follow it. Should I do that, I will get a smack on my head from behind itself and the next thing I come to know my internet connection will be terminated. Hmph, shtupid parents!<br /><br />There are some people who you can't help but hate from the first sight itself. I don't know why, but there have been couple of people I cannot stand whatsoever. Karma, incompatible aura, bad vibes, negative feelings, preconceived notions - call it whatever you want to, even though your best friends may get along well with them, you won't be able to do so with this one particular person. I like to think of such people when I am bored and hate them in peace... without judging myself or caring enough about negativity and all. One blissful advantage of boredom: <span style="font-style: italic;">you are too drunk on it to be introspective. </span><br /><br />One thing which escapes my limited intelligence is why people act so "oversmart" when it comes to the freaking values and traditions? Now, bored or sane, I always hated these self-proclaimed Moral Police. One such incident which pissed me off was that Akshay Kumar's unbuttoning jeans episode at a fashion show (his wife unbuttoned his jeans on the ramp). This guy slapped a case on Kumar and his wife for indecency. First of all, this show was never formally aired on television, it's pictures appeared in newspapers and some clips were shown on entertainment channels. And I am pretty sure this <span style="font-style: italic;">sata-savatra </span>bastard was not the one attending that show either that his nuts interchanged their places on the spot because of the "show of indecency". It is the people like him who are so cheap that to bask in the 15 seconds of fame they target any person. Now I am no die-hard fan of Kumar or his wife or anything, but I just hate such morons. I mean, c'mon dude, how jobless could you get? I can picture: he must have sat in front of TV one evening, with his wife and kids, watching some C-grade Hindi news channel where these equally loser of people show news in a cheap way. And his little <span style="font-style: italic;">chunnu-munnu </span>might've got their first dose of kinkiness in the presence of their parents who might be squirming in their seats due to embarrassment. No wonder he filed a case against them.<br /><br />Inference: When bored, do whatever you want to, and think about its consequence later: The Blithering Idiot.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br />(<span style="font-style: italic;">Shut up and let me go </span><span>by The Ting Tings</span>:<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I ain't freaking I ain't fakin this</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I ain't freaking I ain't fakin this</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I ain't freaking I ain't fakin this</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Just shut up and let me go!</span>)<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg58E67abh8yBmvh8AmbyB4eQNrdPgfnl4P6RMSj0QflYUUbjrBhi1FqfzBb0WO9Q46jB_dRyokwRCXL6Kao3adV9EyawXfvFg4WPsDFJKD_9TZtHZt9q01F0SSnsQ9ODwn6ZN_n32dwOA/s1600-h/misc.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 310px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg58E67abh8yBmvh8AmbyB4eQNrdPgfnl4P6RMSj0QflYUUbjrBhi1FqfzBb0WO9Q46jB_dRyokwRCXL6Kao3adV9EyawXfvFg4WPsDFJKD_9TZtHZt9q01F0SSnsQ9ODwn6ZN_n32dwOA/s400/misc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332787299980586146" border="0" /></a></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-30608538862286387772009-04-10T06:57:00.000-07:002009-04-13T10:23:16.425-07:00A Stud or a Jackass?<div style="text-align: justify;">Various television awareness programmes and campaigns that are continually run right from news channels to music channels have got me really charged up about the elections. So whether it's Times Group's (dramatic yet effective) ad where the parents swear by their children to vote against the vices in politics or the Channel V and Tata Tea's joint venture called <span style="font-style: italic;">Vote ya Vaat</span> endorsed by Kiran Bedi and others: I got a patriotic orgasm from all these audio-visual arousal - but sadly, not surging enough for me to get my butt off the chair and walk to the registrar's office to submit the form, but strong enough to Google the educational qualifications of the two most eligible contenders for the post of the <span style="font-style: italic;">Honourable Prime Minister of India: </span>Mr L. K. Advani and Dr Manmohan Singh.<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />The Google auto-suggestions came in useful here and almost decided itself who was the better man. It showed many suggestions till I typed <span style="font-style: italic;">educational qualifications of... </span>like Lalu Prasad Yadav, Sachin Tendulkar et al (not Advani though) but the moment I reached <span style="font-style: italic;">"dr" </span>it dropped down a single suggestion: <span style="font-style: italic;">Educational Qualification Prime Minister <a href="http://http//www.indiastudychannel.com/resources/15786-RESUME-Dr-Manmohan-Singh.aspx">Dr Manmohan Singh</a>. </span>On clicking on one of the links what followed was a long list of his degrees and the posts he held at strategic and dignified position.<br /><br /><a href="http://http//pib.myiris.com/profile/article.php3?fl=b9416">L. K. Advani</a> couldn't fare so well as Dr Singh on Google. No auto-suggestions dropped down even when I typed his full name. But then again he doesn't have much feathers to his credit or in his cap, just an LLB I suppose, what in Pakistan is known as BL (Bachelor of Law), whereas Dr Singh is as endowed as a full-fanned peacock.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTrP4AzvW1fMVwEMVMdVs61czX1pIpDLuT63ewUbUPL2XQGfinejKCHLYMYEWfk6HsnPRQHJlfNOVda-omUcSWyccXJgfofOHD6y8lFad6x_uTlMMqEq5a5K_ZzQ4tf5MjUvxt6vO4EI/s1600-h/beautiful+mare.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTrP4AzvW1fMVwEMVMdVs61czX1pIpDLuT63ewUbUPL2XQGfinejKCHLYMYEWfk6HsnPRQHJlfNOVda-omUcSWyccXJgfofOHD6y8lFad6x_uTlMMqEq5a5K_ZzQ4tf5MjUvxt6vO4EI/s320/beautiful+mare.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323821184476508530" border="0" /></a>Just today Dr Singh confessed that he might not be a public speaker as good as Advani but he added that we need more a working PM. Advani later questioned why Dr Singh was never in any political campaign during the election season. Hah! A sign of aristocracy on the part of Dr Singh I would say. He has always been the silent and controlled person with a firm hand throughout his term. This was misinterpreted by the media and poisened by the opposition as symptoms of a weakling under control of Mrs Gandhi. He hardly ever indulged in the dirty politics and kept himself away from name-calling and mud-slinging. For a country brimming with population, corruption, debts and deficits, a person with controlled behaviour and measured speech is what we direly need.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2yaQDeJb7bWL5tWUIxSGSCWXYx91jzowhcrmiDmgOYC9iRXmYbemK3_On1D2bKarqjCLseiB1HHlA50yyoDrpmn5pA8aGjxyCYiVqLdMV96z7BaNEQQertauCBXOrhDETHiuGjhEzO0/s1600-h/Island_Donkey_by_irishtequilla.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp2yaQDeJb7bWL5tWUIxSGSCWXYx91jzowhcrmiDmgOYC9iRXmYbemK3_On1D2bKarqjCLseiB1HHlA50yyoDrpmn5pA8aGjxyCYiVqLdMV96z7BaNEQQertauCBXOrhDETHiuGjhEzO0/s320/Island_Donkey_by_irishtequilla.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323821191000407154" border="0" /></a><br />The BJP campaign ad is the mind-numbingly infuriating, aimed at duping the illiterate by showing a brooding Advani in fake pensive poses staring in vacuum and suddenly a scene of skyscrapers materialising out of blue (which belong to some western countries). I was like <span style="font-style: italic;">who're you kidding old fart?!</span> He seems to have developed a fixation for unnecessarily criticising and cursing the opposition just for the sake of it like an uncontrollable motor-mouth on loose. But not once have I heard from him any concrete scheme or plan about anything at all. I bet the economic development of the country would be ignored if he became the PM and all the caste and race politics will be played shamelessly.<br /><br />In the end what I wish and what India needs is not a Manmohan Singh or an Advani but a man serious about his business. Let him be from any party for that matter, but he shouldn't seem a downer after what we had as one term with the most qualified PM of India. We already did that mistake (sacrilege) after Dr APJ Abdul Kalam's presidential term got over. Let's get serious and practical while voting, not emotional. Our duty is to elect the right guy only, not to run the country, even though it's a democracy. So let us stand by the ablest amongst all of them, so that if he wins we can rest assured we are in good hands.<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-24459544670879060462009-04-01T08:35:00.000-07:002010-09-12T09:31:29.992-07:00Dear Mr PigeonDear Mr Pigeon,<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Coo.<br /><br />But I don't think that's the sound you make. It's something like an asthma patient having problem while breathing: <span style="font-style: italic;">Ghmmmm ghmmm! </span>You make me wanna hurl a stone at you, Mr Pigeon. But then I resist myself cuz you are dumb enough to stand there still humming like a freaking fool.<br /><br />It tears my nerves when you try to stuff yourself through our kitchen window and flutter around the clutter flapping your wings with the even more irritating <span style="font-style: italic;">phat-phat-phat-phat </span>noise. Aarrrgghhhh!!! Can't you see that there's a fan switched on? Who will clean up the mess if your... forget it! There's nothing in anybody's home that you can pluck and fly away. No strategic positions to build your nest either, OK? Any let's face it dude, you are not as adventurous, brisk or macho like the crows to swoop away with something. And speaking of crows, look how smartly they perch themselves at the windows waiting for food. And if I shoo them away, they immediately take off but don't have any ego hassles coming back to see if still we have any edible scrap for them. Suave!<br /><br />And what's with the habit of cocking head and revolving around yourself? Vous-etes retardé? Or is your memory so short that you just forget what things are around you by the time you look in another direction? You can't even strut about without cocking your head damn it! And I would also like to request you not to have those idiotic wing brawls with other dimwits of your species because that's just so gay! There is no display of any avine barbarism, you know, like the cool falcons; you just hustle, bustle and jostle with each other and finally fall off from wherever you are struggling in what seems like lovers in embrace.<br /><br />So Mr Pigeon, I just hope your species gets extinct (like the dodo's did because of lack of brains) or you could get allergic to the global warming and try to fly over the ocean and then just drop into it, exhausted, after finding out there's no place to land! I still can't figure out how you pulled off the mail-delivering coup in the olden days.<br /><br />Anyway, I hate you, pea-brain!<br /><br />Love,<br />The Blithering Idiot.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMnOYkJh6sEPLTYCusMZSFWBA_RQZa1ksIJslidftUYUe9vMIuvS8JtTRC_zJOUI7KgX6mZS2fqk3tiz5Sehg1r8Prt0gE-aMYNhG4RyyOr3JvRTNpTYrUdyCpy27GHaW71mpeE9qvTK0/s1600-h/Pigeon_by_Mpol.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMnOYkJh6sEPLTYCusMZSFWBA_RQZa1ksIJslidftUYUe9vMIuvS8JtTRC_zJOUI7KgX6mZS2fqk3tiz5Sehg1r8Prt0gE-aMYNhG4RyyOr3JvRTNpTYrUdyCpy27GHaW71mpeE9qvTK0/s320/Pigeon_by_Mpol.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319767550949461986" border="0" /></a></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-9900025327410490602009-03-24T11:24:00.000-07:002011-07-26T22:52:32.867-07:00Oh Paris, La Paris!Disclaimer:<br /><div style="text-align: justify;">For those of you who don't know Paris or don't follow her news it would be futile in a way to read this post because you won't be able to grasp the humour. And if you do read it, watch the video too, cuz that's like half the insanity that is this post.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Paris Hilton is hot!</span><br /><br />Paris is like one of the most famous as well as notorious celebrity in the U.S. of A. She's the usual dumb blonde rich bitch who can't display even traces of intelligence to save her life. But even then her hot looks and fashion style(?!) have divided the people who know her into two: those who hate her and those who just adore her. What is very interesting to observe about this specimen is her survival in this world amongst people with IQ level equal to her number of dresses. For her everything is hot, and by hot I mean: <span style="font-style: italic;">hawt! </span>For a woman who socialises so much it is hard to believe that the only word she can describe good things with is <span style="font-style: italic;">hawt!<br /><br /></span>One of her quotes:<br /><span class="sqq"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 204);">I think it's important for girls to be confident. Believe in yourself and ... everybody's hot.</span><br /><br />Apart from acting on the reality shows <span style="font-style: italic;">Paris Hilton's BFF</span>(wtf!) and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Simple Life </span>(which is not aired any more) and a couple of movies, and singing some songs, she also earns her income from letting people partying with her. It's apparently called the Paris Hilton Party and she charges people (more than $100) to be her guests. And how do you think she entertains them as a hostess? She just makes a brief appearance on the stage or whatever, and says, <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 255);">'Wooohooo, hey there guys, how's everyone doin? I want you to rock this party! Dance it up, cuz you are so hawt!</span>'</span> And that's it. That's all the 'guests' get to see of her in the Paris Hilton Party.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLHlXf4ziOrBt4das0wOOGiG0oG_EXW8FksqXW7trrwc1PBXUmYYCYh2E38x6wzZBHkkf5hvgz8mDyK2OvQBLMwSQ5tDVLhJvHYum0AjDLgBctPwVhxBZQ1rVUbDERSr-0jaH7f2qxBiQ/s1600-h/ph.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLHlXf4ziOrBt4das0wOOGiG0oG_EXW8FksqXW7trrwc1PBXUmYYCYh2E38x6wzZBHkkf5hvgz8mDyK2OvQBLMwSQ5tDVLhJvHYum0AjDLgBctPwVhxBZQ1rVUbDERSr-0jaH7f2qxBiQ/s320/ph.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316856339678243058" border="0" /></a></div><span class="sqq"><br />Being so incredibly dumb, she's got some unique style statement though. Designers love her only cuz she's the most visible person in all the events. And this dumb-sel loves her designer wears so much that she fears losing them to someone:<br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">Kaballah helps you confront your fears. If a girl borrowed a dress from me, didn't return it to me and if I saw her wearing it, I will confront her.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 255, 255);">The only rule is don't be boring and dress cute wherever you go. Life is too short to blend in</span>.<br /><span class="sqq"><br />But this one is unusually witty of Paris:<br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 204);">Every woman should have four pets in her life. A mink in her closet, a jaguar in her garage, a tiger in her bed and a jackass who pays for it all.</span> :)<br /><br />She's been the heiress to the Hilton empire but I guess her grandfather refused her the heirloom after her many sexcapades, publicly shameful behaviour and probably realising that she actually had an amoeboid brain. She had admitted that as a child she was like: </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">When I was a kid I had no idea I lived in a mansion. Then I went to a friend's house and I was like - "Oh".</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 255, 153);">A true heiress is never mean to anyone - except a girl who steals your boyfriend.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;" class="sqq"><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);">I don't want to be known as the granddaughter of the Hiltons. I want to be known as Paris.</span><br /></span><span class="sqq"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA5NWa_RZOjmbcYHXxdjWf375WbNM5xkpEvOGYtjWiwMq7U9Im7ggocuvC6PqOu4GhZ9TO5q5NtpVNQTc4io0owohT3kHXllDZSJRUxAVEbSTZoTsp54BeDlTxMsJFGbvHQzxoi052v90/s1600-h/ph1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA5NWa_RZOjmbcYHXxdjWf375WbNM5xkpEvOGYtjWiwMq7U9Im7ggocuvC6PqOu4GhZ9TO5q5NtpVNQTc4io0owohT3kHXllDZSJRUxAVEbSTZoTsp54BeDlTxMsJFGbvHQzxoi052v90/s320/ph1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316856346382849186" border="0" /></a></div><span class="sqq"><br />It's OK to a certain extent when she talks to the entertainment media only. But then she blabbers on to anything that resembles a mic (<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 255);">'I don't think, I just walk'</span>) and when she does that, you really can't believe that a person can be so goddamn oblivious to an international crisis. Share holders had been reported to have committed suicides and Paris prances around giving her 'views' on the ubiquitous global recession:<br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 255);">Yeah, I heard it's around. I think everyone should wear happy colours.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"></span></span><span class="sqq"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 51);">I like it, ... but it's yellow, and I'm like, I didn't want yellow for my engagement ring.</span><br /><br />Paris then bought a bubble-gum pink (urgh!) Bentley, and further customised it with a $283,ooo diamond encrusted dashboard.<br /><br />(When asked about the British Prime Minister Tony Blair) <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 204);">Who? Oh he's like your president?... yeah, I dunno what he looks like.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">This is Earth, isn't it hot?</span><br /><br />(After her visit to Africa) <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 255);">South Africa was great! I also liked North Africa, East Africa and West Africa!</span><br /><br /></span>Her dating history is really in chapters! She hooks up with any rich guy she bumps into at pubs and parties and who she thinks is <span style="font-style: italic;">really hot! </span>The funniest incident was when Paris was partying in the same club as Princes Harry and William and she tried to get <span style="font-style: italic;">nauddy </span>(naughty) and flirt with William. But Will, being a royal gentleman, just talked to her and didn't fall for her (obviously). And she was all excited: <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Aren't the princes really hawt? We exchanged phone numbers!</span> </span><span>(Not true)</span><br /><br />Some more:<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 255, 153);">I've only done it with, like, a couple of boyfriends. People think I sleep with everyone, but I'm not like that. I like kissing, but that's all I do. I'm not having sex for a year, I've decided. I'll kiss but nothing else.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 255);" class="sqq">I'd rather sit in bed and watch TV. All of my ex-boyfriends-of course, not Paris-would be like, 'What's the problem? You're so not sexual.'</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYUYusEYxeTr0MA-zk-854Wj02LHhl7g7wZQ-4Jj6UQg6bX1IkXt0JePW_VHAvdx5aZmg5Y-2FR5WrLYS-CZHABc7hKEcSagLNc0EMAna2MeIkqX3nWKlyqefghfejd0OMf5sPxZJLHRg/s1600-h/ph2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYUYusEYxeTr0MA-zk-854Wj02LHhl7g7wZQ-4Jj6UQg6bX1IkXt0JePW_VHAvdx5aZmg5Y-2FR5WrLYS-CZHABc7hKEcSagLNc0EMAna2MeIkqX3nWKlyqefghfejd0OMf5sPxZJLHRg/s320/ph2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316856349188227682" border="0" /></a></div><br />Paris on her own image as a dumblonde:<br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 51);">I used to act dumb. That act is no longer cute. Now, I would like to make a difference ... God has given me this new chance.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 204);">I think I am a good role model.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span> <span style="font-style: italic;" class="sqq"><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">It will work. I am a marketing genius.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">Wal-mart... do they like make walls there?</span> <span class="sqq"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 255);">Those cup-cakes still look good to me.</span></span><br /><br />Now this one gets darn hilarious! During the US presidential race, John McCain had compared Barack Obama as a celebrity to the likes of Britney Spears and Paris Hilton and asked a question, 'Is he ready to lead?' Paris hit back at McCain with this video. She says stuff like, <span style="font-style: italic;">'I am not promising anything like everyone else... I am just hot!' 'Thanks for the endorsement, white hair dude (McCain) and I wanna tell America that I'm like totally ready to lead'</span> and then goes on in a detailed and professional solution to the economic and financial crisis to finally sign off with <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">'See you at the debate, bitches.'</span></span><span class="sqq"> Check it out in this vid:<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyBdI5ZERULfDczB9RitUVu6Ye9Vu5W9k3FphhBr22ZeuJ3t_Uq769n0gGiF_rIJQOk7aoLMEe0I-jpWl0Gjg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />And in this video, Paris takes herself a tad too seriously and promotes herself to America "get their butt off the chair and vote" her for the post of President. She doesn't however, do this through smart or brainy speeches but through a musical song-and-dance video. Watch it for more laughs than the previous ones as America's "commander in bikini" swears that "global warming is not that hot."<br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwMjYO0hRl3Half4hw4oSqw4028-n93Ef7RDM3ZiDuSnpP-gc_JKoZDCd_0TJACtLsxL024By145jal0qb6eg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-41079596730311022382009-03-20T06:09:00.000-07:002009-04-18T01:05:50.315-07:00Kāma: Confession and Holy<div style="text-align: justify;">There was one segment on a TV show where they were talking about sex education, awareness and conversation amongst teens/pre-teens and their parents. A mother was saying that she had decided to take a step forward by introducing her daughter in early teenage to the topic. She had said to her daughter, 'Dear, I think it's time we talked about how babies come and err... sex.' 'Sure Mum,' said her daughter, 'what do you want to know?'<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />The people on the show were amazed at the daughter's knowledge and went on further to discuss how different sources of information are accessible to children and how they don't need their parents anymore to blast the myths about birds and bees or free home delivering storks. But I was impressed by the girl's comfort level about sex with her mother. She answered her mother back as coolly as though she were asking her about some recipe.<br /><br />I had been to a Yoga class where I learned not only the exercises but also the philosophy behind it. There is nothing Indian about Yoga to be frank, even though it's an Indian creation. It is a deep scientific attitude and rationality. One of the concepts I felt to be the most important was <span style="font-style: italic;">moderation. </span>Yoga preaches moderation in everything: what you eat, what you spend, how much you enjoy, your desires and so on.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Desires</span>: Sex is a desire. Out of the maybe thousands of times in their life, humans have sex only a couple of times for procreation which is considered the main objective of sex. It is human to have sex with the love of your life. But does it mean that casual sex or one-night stands are ethical? One can even have casual sex in moderation too, since as mentioned earlier it is just a desire and you are satisfying it. That brings forth the question <span style="font-style: italic;">what you prefer: love or sex. </span>Do you prefer to go around indiscriminately fornicating like dogs or do you want to mutually satisfy your partner physically and emotionally? Isn't it more fulfilling and sacred if sex is extended as an expression of love instead of a mere, selfishly carnal itch?<br /><br />Some religions frown upon it as a filthy action. The parents dissuade the children from touching their private parts. There is nothing dirty about them since they are also an important part of the body. This ignorant and careless attitude of parents further goes on to instill a sense of taboo and forbidden about the genitalia and, consequently, sex. Everyone has a curiosity of the unknown and forbidden. And as children grow and get the reality-check they develop a guilt for discovering what their parents were trying to hide from them and this guilt then culminates into discomfort between parents and children. They become tongue-tied when it comes to speaking to their children about it because they might expect a question like 'do you have it too?' It is this taboo that is tagged on such topics since childhood that any pleasure one feels through them becomes a <span style="font-style: italic;">sin</span>. But a simple question: <span style="font-style: italic;">Aren't we all the products of sex? </span> Then why shy away from talking about it? I daresay even the religious preacher (whose own parents bore him through a sexual union and) who publicly denounces it, must be feeling some tingle in his pants in the privacy of his home.<br /><br />Yoga also expounds abstinence/ <span style="font-style: italic;">brahmacharya </span>or celibacy. But then again, those who practise it till the expert levels learn to abstain themselves from even food and water. So that doesn't mean that Yoga considers sex unholy. The reason behind it is that a person must learn to free himself of all distractions to be the one with the universe. 'Yoga' actually means the 'unification' of the internal mind with external universe. But all such sacrifices are expected of a real yogi who devotes his entire life to meditation. For a normal human being, sex is holy. It is the confession of the true love for their partner. There exists a reason for everything, and the fact that we attain pleasure in this act itself is a proof that this is how it was meant to be. There is no human adulteration in the idea of sex, it is completely natural, and the religion which goes against nature is probably not a religion at all (or is being misinterpreted foolishly by a quack).<br /><br />Since I am challenging the religions so much let me clarify myself better. When you are born as a person of a particular religion, you can probably say you are destined to that religion. But as a birth of an individual, you are born to accomplish something in your life and to make it as much meaningful as you can till you die. This is what you want to do<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>with your personal life, <span style="font-style: italic;">it is your choice</span>. Then why does religion - something which you didn't voluntarily subscribe to - be the one influencing your personal choices. Love and ambition are parts of your life continually going through two phases: sadness and happiness. When you are 'in love' with a person you want to make that person happy. Obviously the feeling is mutual. You earn money for a better living to make the person you love happy, that is permitted by all religions, you cook tasty food to make the person you love happy, that is permitted by all religions, you protect them and undergo severe physical exertion to keep them safe and happy, that too, is permitted by all religions. All these things are done because one 'craves' to be with the other out of love, this feeling is emotional. Can there not be a <span style="font-style: italic;">physical</span> 'craving' to be with the other out of love? Why do religions hypocritically forbid that? The mortals who preach religion are responsible for the degradation in the human psyche. Because religions themselves are a convenient way out for humans to live their lives. Ironically, there are many religions who proclaim there is only one God, but none of them (if studied deeply) will challenge existence of other religions. So if it is natural for several religions to co-exist, is it natural that there are several Gods? And if it is to this God that you pray for forgiveness or thank him for the good things aren't you yourself giving a religion to the God, when you confess to follow a religion written down by 'that God'? Then what about people of other religions? They exist too. Ever tried to think how they came into being? If you truly loved 'your God' you will love the people from other religions too, because 'your God' <span style="font-style: italic;">does </span>want you to love everyone. Then why didn't 'your God' take them under his wings? If he hasn't done so, has he left them to wander alone? Or are they safe with 'their own Gods'? Either of the two. But according to 'your religion' God is only one and that God is kind.<br /><br />I have deviated from the topic but I am not going astray. The reason for so many questions is to make one realise that religion is a man's creation, it is artificial, something for the adults to turn to in the times of distress, just like the children grab their teddy bears or protective blankets. If one rationally answers the above questions, one would realise that we are guided by only one force, <span style="font-style: italic;">which has no religion. </span>Then why must one subject oneself to the precepts and preachings of a religion at the cost of refusing something that is essential to them?<br /><br />Religions do teach you strong and pious principles which, if a person adhered to will lead an easy yet ethical life. True. But that eventually is what spiritual rationality is. Just take a sensible approach to everything, including sex and your God, and you will rise above the necessities like religion and discover the <span style="font-style: italic;">'higher truths'</span>. But one eternal truth remains that love is an indispensible part of this world and it will remain sacrosanct for as long as people will continue to love their lives and the people in it. And confession of love in any form, including sex is also equally pure, because just like God it is untouched by any religion. And something above religion will always be <span style="font-style: italic;">as holy as God</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj60LhRaeoDCqFUON5PBYbT-PAX6oQsHWZYxqY3It3_pqvYJyHQbUx77IrRDJ9Q4hjmMu4Kz1h4uQBuGKnsnBLyzI51WxqACYQWvS9nybzQB3qp3QAKW-10Np-_neRzbM3Y37yJobiG-mk/s1600-h/Kiss_by_mcneal.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj60LhRaeoDCqFUON5PBYbT-PAX6oQsHWZYxqY3It3_pqvYJyHQbUx77IrRDJ9Q4hjmMu4Kz1h4uQBuGKnsnBLyzI51WxqACYQWvS9nybzQB3qp3QAKW-10Np-_neRzbM3Y37yJobiG-mk/s320/Kiss_by_mcneal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315535501582238546" border="0" /></a><br />P.S. I deliberately restrained myself from using the phrase 'India is the land of <span style="font-style: italic;">Kamasutra'. </span>The physical act of love is universal and in practice since the pre-historic times; just because we have a manual about it doesn't mean we have the patent to it. There are several <span style="font-style: italic;">other</span> good things too one can attribute India to!<br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-69568121822324737102009-03-14T10:57:00.000-07:002009-09-07T11:02:56.845-07:00Democracy: A Right Prescription?Watched Sanjay Dutt give his first campaign speech today and was disgusted by it. At one point of time he went on to narrate an incident which took place while reaching there. He said after getting down from the plane and driving till here a man asked him about a scene in <span style="font-style: italic;">Lage Raho Munnabhai</span> (same scene where Munna slaps a guy because he didn't know what is Gandhiji-callly appropriate after being slapped on both sides of face). There was a ripple of laughter alright. Even he chuckled and looked at his secretary or someone standing behind him, seeking confidence. At other point, he went on to say stuff like 'main aapse kandhe se kandha milakar chaloonga, aapke saath rahoonga, aapke beech mein rahoonga' (I will walk, live and be with you). Now that was so fake man! First he mentions sleekly that he got there by a plane (must be a chartered one) and a car (must be chauffeur-driven) and then he promises to do things which no one in their sane mind would believe. What made me more indignant was that this line was received by an applause. People get loony and brainwashed when someone screams sheer idiocy over an reverberating microphone, honestly!<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />I haven't heard of Dutt doing anything socially responsible before making a foray into politics. I mean, for a celebrity of his stature even minutest of some charity would've been inflated by the media as a life saving act, but it was not to be. And co-stars saying things like "tough man outside but a heart of gold inside" isn't really a testimonial, sir! I have nothing else to say about him, but just that people should not mistake the real life person for the on-screen one. If they are so much in awe of the character that they wish to be taken by him to politcal manumission, they should push the story-writer of the movie on the dais.<br /><br />I read someone's views on an online thread about democracy. He was of the opinion that for a vast country like India it isn't well suited. I argued back that people get a right to select their leaders and all that. He said where (a) majority of the people live in villages, most of whom are illiterate and gullible that people like Dutt and others can easily offer them money or fake promises to influence their votes, (b) a sizable chunk of people are corrupt and vile and rich who can 'choose to get influenced' by the politicians in exchange of some petty favours, and (c) the rest which leaves a serious minority of the educated and aware class of people - in such a country, how can you trust the leader the same democracy has elected? Hmm... I didn't have anything to retort with.<br /><br />Gandhiji had something like <span style="font-style: italic;">'Now that you are free men, you must vote.'</span> But why, bapuji? It's not as if we are having a variety of inspiring people to select from, we have no other option other than to vote for the guy who is least corrupt and who doesn't have one of his leg in the grave/on the pyre. The dearth of highly educated politicians who are fighting for the betterment of the Indians is the reason why some are losing the faith in the Democracy. (By the way, could the term 'highly educated politicians' be more ironic and oxymoronic ?) It really boils my blood to see them using the heavily funded (from the tax-payers money, obviously) election rallies to jabber about the opposition and try to turn the crowd to vote for them on that basis, when the crowd, the politician, and his party are aware that it's all hogwash.<br /><br />Clearly, democracy works only when there are rational and intelligent voters, competitive elections and relatively low political and campaign <span style="font-style: italic;">kharcha. </span>But the lack of such voters itself remains the Achilles heel of Democracy.<br /><br />At least in Democracy, its so called essence: <span style="font-style: italic;">of the people, for the people, by the people </span>allows the policies and plans framed by the government to be influenced by the vox populi - the voice of the people, through the free and active media. But then again, considering people like Dutt and <span style="font-style: italic;">A-boo Cell-em</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Go-win-duh</span> thinking of contesting elections how often can you trust the policies to be framed by proffesional economists?<br /><br />Then should we have an autocratic rule instead and avoid the situation of too many cooks spoiling the broth? Just one supremely educated and intellingent guy with in-depth knowledge of economics of a nation and international relations?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Blithering Idiot trails away...</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-iG5YclS67QA5AK9wX0lZbQcfJEgmqqMVPd9RmwLzdyGaK_rqCx6sFRfPbqkfKrbgiGWj2hbkrcOm-A5AfH6-eeE7j_KGUplY0YOd48FYZOkrG8uMvbZkAjXs3fezaQt0nMx3NKbWcY/s1600-h/Chess.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-iG5YclS67QA5AK9wX0lZbQcfJEgmqqMVPd9RmwLzdyGaK_rqCx6sFRfPbqkfKrbgiGWj2hbkrcOm-A5AfH6-eeE7j_KGUplY0YOd48FYZOkrG8uMvbZkAjXs3fezaQt0nMx3NKbWcY/s320/Chess.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314809008779114194" border="0" /></a></div><br />P.S. <span style="font-style: italic;">Youngistan </span>is the crappiest thing I've ever heard. It smells like a bunch of air-headed <span style="font-style: italic;">Bollywood </span>maniacs desperately trying to show themselves to be energetic and hot-blooded instead of actually participating in the actual reforms.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-iG5YclS67QA5AK9wX0lZbQcfJEgmqqMVPd9RmwLzdyGaK_rqCx6sFRfPbqkfKrbgiGWj2hbkrcOm-A5AfH6-eeE7j_KGUplY0YOd48FYZOkrG8uMvbZkAjXs3fezaQt0nMx3NKbWcY/s1600-h/Chess.jpg"><br /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-79449409874772251962009-03-13T05:47:00.000-07:002009-10-18T04:01:41.246-07:00In an August Company<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFs1rGutBncWd5mtl8s39Yi7n_2jnBfnAEqIPKpBW6aobWGcgyx4zBAfB2ODCeGPXH6Zt2yyiDDIYQdfEwy6I_Y-p6ZFMVGopUqtB6yaEqbptl4DR1GXUVqNObW_p-J_U1J9WLeESN-II/s1600-h/friends.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFs1rGutBncWd5mtl8s39Yi7n_2jnBfnAEqIPKpBW6aobWGcgyx4zBAfB2ODCeGPXH6Zt2yyiDDIYQdfEwy6I_Y-p6ZFMVGopUqtB6yaEqbptl4DR1GXUVqNObW_p-J_U1J9WLeESN-II/s320/friends.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312653305165312178" border="0" /></a>'Who are you? You don't belong here.'<br /><br />'I've lost my way home, I stay with people.'<br /><br />'I stay on this street.'<br /><br />'Is it safe?'<br /><br />'Not for you. You're an outsider.'<br /><br />'My people like to believe the same... because of me you know.'<br /><br />'Run away now!'<br /><br />'Is it safe?'<br /><br />'Not for you. You're an outsider.'<br /><br />'Where are you going?'<br /><br />'It's time the fat lady throws out the leftovers.'<br /><br />'Can I come along?'<br /><br />'No! It's not much. I will have to go hungry because of you.'<br /><br />'Oh no no, I won't eat any leftovers. I just want to see this fat lady.'<br /><br />'Why do you want to see her?'<br /><br />'Because she must be having a lot of food not only to make her fat but also to throw away.'<br /><br />'Run away, I said! She won't like you. You are too black.'<br /><br />'I am august.'<br /><br />'Quit following me.'<br /><br />'Is that her?'<br /><br />'Yes.'<br /><br />'Mmm... yum! It was more tasty today.'<br /><br />'Are you full?'<br /><br />'Do I look sleepy?'<br /><br />'No.'<br /><br />'Then I am not.'<br /><br />'I am sorry.'<br /><br />'Why are you staring at the house? Don't do that, she'll hurl something at you.'<br /><br />'I am all right.'<br /><br />'Aren't you hungry?'<br /><br />'I am all right.'<br /><br />'Very well.'<br /><br />'Ah, look, the fat lady brings out some food for me in a dish.'<br /><br />'You haughty lap ornaments have an easy life.'<br /><br />'Would you like to share it?'<br /><br />'Is it safe?'<br /><br />'Not for you. You're an outsider.'<br /><br />'But what the heck! She knows me, the fat lady.'<br /><br />'Then why ask, join in. There is enough for both of us.'<br /><br />'Thank you. It is for the first time that I have had a full meal.'<br /><br />'I must find my way home now. I don't think it is very far away from here.'<br /><br />'If you go through that hole in the wall over there, you will find yourself on a different street.'<br /><br />'Is it safe?'<br /><br />'Don't worry, I shall guard you.'Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326933236117121991.post-59779705633777162972009-03-09T09:06:00.000-07:002013-10-10T11:35:29.692-07:00Slumdog ManiaFare<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEintQAS42u1fYCr3ZKO8uCKn7D104FxYSIRIhxnM1iy1SoD21P63qNz3iACslYMRD8HMFk_a7XDxRcz73Fjq8IWJnDDb_DV16lo21kzyz4MZVj_wizXAcfmNBzyNx2qrDOs3tBPugIzc0M/s1600-h/slumdog-millionaire-20081024032712754_640w.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311243813310229842" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEintQAS42u1fYCr3ZKO8uCKn7D104FxYSIRIhxnM1iy1SoD21P63qNz3iACslYMRD8HMFk_a7XDxRcz73Fjq8IWJnDDb_DV16lo21kzyz4MZVj_wizXAcfmNBzyNx2qrDOs3tBPugIzc0M/s320/slumdog-millionaire-20081024032712754_640w.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 216px;" /></a>Everyone seems to be trying to jump on the <span style="font-style: italic;">Slumdog </span>bandwagon these days, after it shone at the Baftas, Academy Awards and at several other awards. The well-wishers were a-plenty, dime a dozen, but they don't have much of a news potential. So it is the not-so-well-wishers who try to be Smart Alec.</div>
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Amitabh Bacchan. I don't undestand what's wrong with him, and why he's not so gung-ho like rest of the Bollywood gushing about a movie made by a British in Mumbai and winning awards in LA and London... He was of the opinion that the Oscars should not be given so much of importance<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>and attention by the Indians, since there are many good movies in India that don't need an Oscar to certify they are good. Hmph! Not much of a competitive lark, Big B.<br />
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I heard another guy challenging the choice of the jury. And there are many like him. They were like, "what did they see in <span style="font-style: italic;">Slumdog..., </span>only slums, beggars, poverty! Better than that was the Marathi flick <span style="font-style: italic;">Shwas </span>(Also Oscar nominated in foreign language category)". True enough. But after all it was a phirangi awards function, wasn't it? Not your national awards, where the marathi movie did win an award. <span style="font-style: italic;">Slumdog... </span>was an out-and-out Bollywood-ish movie complete with the nautch-gaana and similar music. The movie also had a sensible script, some excellent cinematography, etc which can be found in western movies. For us, movies like <span style="font-style: italic;">Changeling </span>and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Curious Case of Benjamin Button </span>et al may be oh-so-different and a novelty. But for the western jury and public it's a regular thing, and such <span style="font-style: italic;">Slumdog... </span>movies for them are oh-so-different, entertaining. It is the same phenomenon as the Caucasians yearning for a tan, and the wheatish, for a fairer skin: a fetish for the exotica.<br />
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A. R. Rahman's music is surreal! It is intricate, fresh and contemporary. He has so far never made a signature style of music and that is what so cool about it. Every score is totally different from the other. I wouldn't be surprised if they have an award named after him in the future.<br />
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The Freida girl is going places. Being a student of PR, I could see she did some excellent job at her public relations. Even though she was in only one-third of the film she's been prancing around like a lead actress pouting and posing for the shutterbugs in internationally designed style. Intelligent! She didn't take the stupid step of 'being open to bollywood offers' and fielding the amateurish Indian entertainment media who had dug out her not so pleasant past. Her sis said she was busy with a Woody Allen project in US and the opinionated motor-mouths like Shobha De did a good job of justifying and covering up for her (she dumped her fiancé or something of that sort). That took care of her image there. Moreover, being seen at a fashion show in Paris or Milan or on the cover page of international fashion magazine is way better than being seen on the same page of an entertainment column alongside tanushri data and tushar kapur. I hope she won't be a one-film wonder. I would like to see more of her.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvO2GJ4yEeBkbrn0kRMWs9baEOG1Zcpej_lrFqgC9lnHDjwZwOckU-dwz9bYHOCxk8fa7z6a1P_LtJGeMNNpL9lnR9DTl9o81cF6FRinEaCKGayGuypwsV9V-oBa0eYxDUsXIQ5waSUGY/s1600-h/vogue-praises-freida-pinto.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311244587436895714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvO2GJ4yEeBkbrn0kRMWs9baEOG1Zcpej_lrFqgC9lnHDjwZwOckU-dwz9bYHOCxk8fa7z6a1P_LtJGeMNNpL9lnR9DTl9o81cF6FRinEaCKGayGuypwsV9V-oBa0eYxDUsXIQ5waSUGY/s320/vogue-praises-freida-pinto.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 268px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></a>No comments about the slumkids, or politicos butchering the song <span style="font-style: italic;">Jai Ho, </span>or dragging those kids to campaign with them.<br />
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P.S. I don't like to say <span style="font-style: italic;">bollywood. </span>I prefer it as the <span style="font-style: italic;">Indian/Hindi Film Industry. </span>Pinto should learn this too.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1