Shock!

So when was the last time you were in a situation that actually motivated you to call yourself a “chutiya”? (Roughly translated to dickhead)

The other day I was trotting about the house in my usual tumultuous ways, as is common to bored blokes with a lot of sugar clotting their blood, when my eyes fell upon a piece of paper. It was neatly folded, characteristic of an official letter, more so of the most dreaded of them all. Bill.

It had BSNL etched on it and from the moment I laid my eyes upon in, my heart started to beat faster. And the blood circulation cut short (if you get my drift). I inched closer, slowly, thus creating a pseudo slow-motion moment with my arms extended and longing to tear that seal and get over with it.

Oh, I was no fool (or fu as my brothers from the ghetto would like calling it). I knew very well that the bill was going to be quite a handsome sum, which would make its way to the hardworking people in the PSU: BSNL. I gulped couple of imaginary snot balls down my throat before unleashing the demon upon me.

And then I did it. I was enlightened.

It wasn’t a demon.

IT WAS SATAN HIMSELF.

From then onwards I was convinced that the number of the beast wasn’t 666 and was indeed the number that I had my eyes transfixed on: 9850.60 (The devil deserves accuracy up to two decimal places as well). 9850.60, approximately 10K bucks! How does one get that? How is that even possible? Seriously, it makes for excellent conversation material. I mean who wouldn’t take notice of a guy who blew up 10K on his phone bill.

Surely there had to be a miscalculation. Surely! It just seemed like such a travesty considering that we’re a struggling third world nation (errm…lets suppose we are, it’s my blog, ergo, I get to make the assumptions). Where was the god-damn concession? As I were to realize after heavy scrutinizing of the bill on numerous occasions and from various angles, the kind folks at BSNL did cut down on a lot of money before kindly passing on the bill to our household.

The real blow was to come once I saw the break-up stats. It wasn’t the phone bill exactly that sky-rocketed the bill. The phone bill didn’t even cause a collateral damage (It was responsible for about one tenth of the entire bill). It was the Internet. The underdogs, the whore, the vamp, give it whatever name you want to. I felt mugged and raped if not both. 7000 bucks! Who does that? That’s ludicrous! Can you keep a straight face while publicly telling people that you spent seven grand on internet without breaking into a guffaw(even more so lest you end up farting simultaneously). How does one achieve that? Then the memories exploded. 150 videos on Youtube, constant Orkutting, endless Wiki-ing, tireless browsing, updates, blogs, more blogs. Science, Business, Tech, Movies, Filth Diaries, more business. Never log out of the Gtalk, so much so that people started to doubt whether I had exchanged my real identity for a virtual one and was leading a life on the web. BSNL had given me 2500 free MB of upload/download limit, plus free usage during 2-8 AM( which they called Happy Hours, clichéd yet true), which came to around 3000 MB. Despite all these goodies I used another 8K MB (obviously during the day) which cost me around 7K dosh, thus accounting for a lion’s share of the humongous amount.

I had trouble meeting my father’s eye that night. I thought I’d get a lecture from the folks about how I’ve lost the focus in life and they might even speculate "moaning Danish pornstars" to be somehow involved in this affair. They might go on about how when they were my age there was no such distraction to occupy their time and hence they are where they are today and I am 90 Kilos. Instead, Dad was quite bemused to see his son stare at his toes with ardent interest as though it was the most interesting thing in the vicinity. Clearly he hadn’t seen the bill. But that day would come too…and pretty soon.

Tongue in cheek!

What? You've never seen a hot popular football sensation stick his tongue down a struggling committed actress? :P
A Portuguese with a Bong( does that sound familiar????)
Actually if you zoom 10x, you'll notice that there's no lip contact in the picture. There's just one photo for the two caught-in-the-act, and this is it. Zee has been raving about it.
It might very well have been a friendly peck, but you know what made the difference?
The mother fucking hand!
Him caressing changes the entire tone of the pic. It accentuates the sensuality and sends the message that they aren't just being cordial. And this is rather ironic considering Bipasha is the one who is the spokesperson as far as her relationship is concerned.
It was bad enough that Bipasha was compering the new 7 wonders ceremony. She has proved that Indians are extremely wary when in company of foreigners and just have to make a fool of themselves by trying to be someone they're not.

And yes! WTF is she wearing? What color is that anyways? Chameli pink?

As I type this entry, each muscle, each ligament is screaming out in agony. Begging me to somehow cast a magical spell over it, Harry Potter-esque (or maybe Hermione since Harry is plagued by juvenile delinquency). Actually, it’s more of a silent scream. If every part of my body had its own independent vocal existence, it would very well give the impression of an intrinsic mass orgy taking place, since moans would be the only things surfacing. Screaming is just too much of a bother.

My body, which had renounced from any form of hardcore physical activity, took centre court yesterday. With a racquet in my hand and a couple of balls in each pocket I warmed up (which is essentially just standing on my toes). Suddenly all the memories came back, one flash at a time and it was a reminiscence of an archaic life, a time when I’d find solace in sports.

Back then, I had tried my hand at everything, tennis, cricket, swimming and had a decent command over all of them if not rising to the status of a pro. Somewhere down the line priorities changed and interests shifted.

Whoosh!

I fired my first ace!

I was having a great time running all around the court, as though tracing out a probability density function. Guess I still had the ol’ touch, or was it beginners luck? For things can only get worse with time, right?

After nearly an hour of panting and sweating from all possible pores on my body I reclined on the steps with a smile that exuberated confidence and a rage that I’d long forgotten dwelled inside me. Fiery eyed I bounced back within minutes to take on any Federer/Lendl.

All the hulla gulla aside, I knew the truth. I knew that these emotions wouldn’t last outside the court. Outside the court there’d just be one thing.

And then it bequeathed! Oh the pain! The fother mucking pain! Oh how it slowly filled me up, meticulously navigating its way into all my tissues and organs. I revolted; it was a struggle but finally had to give in. There was no use fighting it, might as well embrace it, hoping for it to forge an alliance and go away.

But it didn’t!

And it doesn’t!

Every inch of my body moans and groans, reminiscent of our great fore fathers who laid down their lives in order to achieve independence! So what the fuck was I fighting for? Why did I have to torture myself like this? Those two hours of supreme arrogance transformed me into a gimp. Blisters have infested my fingers, a testimony to the eroded grip of the racquet. Even my toes ceased to infer the nerve sensations; they were doing their own bit, wriggling aimlessly. Asked Mamma to feed me dinner for my arms had long turned atheist and wouldn’t budge. I’d try to sit down but my pelvic muscles would retaliate swearing at me for subjecting them to this torture: You don’t give us pleasure, at least don’t gift us pain. Stating that I was comfortably numb would be a lie as blatant as Pamela Anderson saying that she believed in natural products.

Guess will have to sweat it out again day after tomorrow!

Some thoughts!

It’s there in the last spasm of a dying musk deer, the last breath of schools of fish trapped under oil spills, the diminishing numbers of migratory birds, the rapidly vanishing habitat of the giant panda.

It’s the cry of the earth. Can you hear it?

Do your bit. Save our planet. Please. Time is running out...

As I finished reading this I felt an intense rush of emotions. My fingers clenched and I stared blankly at the screen.

How many times have we heard this?

We all like to pretend that we care for our planet. And who knows? Maybe in some chamber deep inside our wretched mind, we actually do. But let’s be realistic.

Most of us simply don’t want to bother.

We feel that since we wont live to see the end of the world (unless WWIII decides to spoil the party) why bother? Or better, our pessimism leads us to believe that there’s nothing we can do. This belief generally comes from the environment around us. We see a friend of ours throwing the chips packet he just devoured on the streets. We see clusters of men letting loose (if you know what I mean) on the same wall that has ‘Plis don’t pass urine’ scribbled shabbily. And as time passes we truly feel that “it’s too late”.

A friend of mine who was sitting for a branch allocation counseling told me that his father found people still pursuing Petro Engineering rather amusing since in another 2-3 decades time there wouldn't be much petroleum left in the world to use.

Honestly speaking (and correct me if I’m wrong), saving the earth doesn’t feature in our top priority list. But every time the issue springs up, depending upon how it’s presented to us (especially if creative clips are shown every 2 minutes in between a mega concert), we all become environmentally charged. Sadly, this enthu disappears almost as quickly as it is aroused.

But as long as we’re charged we feel that we can make a difference (do I hear trumpets in the background?). But wouldn’t dedicate our selves to some on ground activity, instead we believe in the power of the exponents.

Little things, if initiated by a lot of people can shake the world

Ah yes! How many times have I heard that? But the sad part is even the little things like walking down to the store instead of zooming on a motorbike or using natural perfumes instead of aerosol sprays seem like too much of a bother beyond a certain point.

You know what the real problem is? It’s not smoke, its not money, its not greed. Its convenience!

It’s more convenient to blog about the issue and comfort ourselves reminding that “we’ve enlightened the public” than actually get off our lazy bum and switch off the fan that’s running, and open the windows to let the fresh monsoon breeze in.

We do what is convenient to us. We let the tap run because one hand is navigating the brush and the other hand is scratching the buttocks. We don’t switch off the lights after leaving the room because we’ve already locked the door. Now who’s going to unlock the door? Bah!

I remember myself, long ago. I was so supercharged after visiting a recycling plant that I stopped using notebooks for doing my rough work. I’d use the newspaper to scribble some formulae or note down our fundamental duties. I did that for almost two years. I guess as we grow up we come to face with the harsh reality (or so we feel) and realize that we’re helpless. Kids don’t feel that since they’re still in that imaginative world where everything is still possible and can be turned around.

At least I don’t feel like a hypocrite.

P.s: Nil dear, this post wasn't directed at you all. Remember the chat we had last night? This is just a vent post.

Think four times before saying, "I DO"

Salman Rushdie is an extremely talented and ambitious man. Yet his scandals supercede that. First he writes a novel which goes on to become the Booker of Bookers. His next novel almost becomes another booker prize winner. He also writes a book on the alleged heretical verses and pisses off most of the Muslims, ergo, gets a fatwa launched against him ironically on Valentines’ Day. And ultimately gets knighted for his services to literature.

I remember my mother telling me once that he commented upon Indira Gandhi’s lips comparing it to a vagina.

Good Lord!

But he is determined to achieve something greater than all these trivial matters, something which will make him the undisputed king of the neo-age. What he truly wants is to break the record of Elizabeth Taylor. Nothing would give him more than to surpass the legendary actress’ unfathomable record.

He’s almost there.

One of the extraordinary things about human events is that the unthinkable becomes thinkable

- Salman Rushdie

And correct you are sir. Indeed!

I remember reading TIME when Rushdie got married again. It had Rushdie quoted saying something about marriage being a holy union of beings. I found it rather amusing to see Rushdie believe in the sanctity of marriage considered it didn’t work for him the last three times. Imagine him at the altar and being asked for the fourth time, “Do you accept this women to be your lawfully wedded wife till death do you part?”

“I do”

Yeah it would have been true had the fatwa been carried out successfully. Yet fate would intervene.

Padmalakshmi. I guess the only thing wrong with her is her name. But then what’s in a name? I mean she’s so radiantly hot! Apparently she’s really intelligent. Must be hard for her because no one would be willing to listen to her because they’d all be undressing her in their head. Rushdie on the other hand could bear to control his lust for her for the sole reason that in 1999 he had an operation to correct a tendon condition that was making it increasingly difficult for him to open his eyes, so maybe he could pay more attention to what was coming out of her mouth rather than focus on what could go in.

But now it doesn’t matter.

Salman Rushdie has agreed to divorce his wife, Padma Lakshmi, because of her desire to end their marriage

-New York Post

The ignominy of being dumped by your own wife.

Our lives teach us who we are.

-Salman Rushdie.

Care to elaborate and provide some more insight on this kind Sir?

Decc@n Chronicle

For those who have not come face to face with this phenomenon, I present to you Exhibit A. It's ad campaigns are flawless, with tag lines sporting "78% of the trendy middle class people who own a scooter read DC"
Isn't that just so splendid? It rules the plateau with its massive sales.
Every now and then(more often than not), they come up with these advantageous snippets. Have a look here

Now shouldn’t I just thank my stars for that serendipitous encounter while I was browsing the net?

Travel Bag. How convenient. I would’ve never thought about that because I am generally too busy being the brand ambassador of jute by sporting gunny bags to carry my stuff.

It is imperative to sport a clean, handsome look when you are holidaying.

Oh really? Coz the last we all checked our office dress code, being sloven and covered with muck fetched us brownie points.

Also, its terribly interesting how mp3 player/walkman/cellphone has been conveniently replaced by the ubiquious iPod.

Do check out the sports blog Pavilion Seat. Its being regularly updated!( wink wink)

Keepin' it real

Due to the intervention of involuntary and unavoidable forces, I landed up at Hyderabad CENTRAL last night. Upon reaching there I witness the brouhaha and am all curious to figure out its cause. As I walk closer to the crowd I can hear a lot of incorrigible noise which I guessed was some bloke rapping.

Voila!

WAR OF THE DJ’s

The last contestant from the prelims took the stage and tried to put his “shit” together. He got cheered from the crowd and the applause died out just as fast as it started.

It was quite ordinary.

Once he was done, this radiantly hot flesh on bones took centre stage. She was supposedly an RJ on Big FM and looked a lot like Shweta Gulati (the girl who played the role of the bratty Tia on Remix). And well, she began saying something which I’m sure no one took notice of. From where I was standing I knew the reason for this. The cleavage is far more appealing for the eyes than the compeering is to the ears. It was sinister man!

The results were announced and I could sense the disappointment of the crowd for some DJ who had performed earlier in the day (and really well apparently) wasn’t chosen and instead the last DJ to perform in the prelims was who according to me was quite substandard.

What this guy and many others I noticed were doing wrong was this:

They thought that they were still in a club, and the hoards of uncles and auntie ji’s along with chunnu munnu were party animals. And well their attempts of asking the crowd to “sing along” or “Bounce” didn’t really have the desired effect.

Another thing was that the tracks being played were the ones that really had no mass appeal, I mean come on ‘My Name is’ by Eminem was hot like what, a decade back?

And on top of that the WORST thing they did was this: They weren’t ready the moment they took the stage, as in they seemed lax. So what they did was that the moment they got on stage they played some really annoying music (mostly some beats which sounded like the sort of disturbance you get when you get too close to the microphone). Now that too would be fine, what was most pissing off was that this music would repeat itself over and over and over and over, and well never seemed to cease.

I suppose they were so interested in getting the technical stuff right that they forgot the three hundred people who were looking at them. And well I don’t know if you’ll agree, but watching a guy in a tight tee just pushing some buttons and occasionally uttering a nonchalant “yeah” isn’t really that entertaining.

Finally this thin bloke who resembled my favorite African American satirist/slap stick comedian Dave Chapelle, started doing something right. He played the tracks that are currently driving people mad ‘Jhoom Barabar Jhoom’ and got the legion of Uncles and Aunties on his side. Also the jumping and ghoomofying that he was trying to pass off as dance actually worked. The crowd got excited seeing a guy dancing really badly and having the time of his life. He was an instant fav! Also he didn’t keep the crowd waiting with those irritating noise (which sound like gun shots or laser firing) for a prolonged period of time.

I’m convinced that Trance music is the work of Satan!

Memories...

I was cleaning my room and found my old answer scripts. I always made it a point to preserve them, especially the English ones. After the initial splash of nostalgia came the agony. Going through those answer scripts I realized how the teachers meticulously took advantage of our naivety and our gullibility became our vice.

Can you imagine the amount of B.S they fed us while at school? And some of us were indoctrinated so effectively that we continue to believe some of that crap till date.

Remember those essays on the merits and demerits of the Television. I’m sure all of you wrote those essays, and more often than not wrote the same points albeit in a different style. Allow me to butcher them one by one.

TV lets us know what’s happening around the globe. The news and the Discovery channel along with other informative channels like the history channel and NatGeo increase our knowledge base.

Honestly, in the sixth standard most of us weren’t even attracted to the opposite sex, leave alone consider the use of knowledge as a probable weapon in wooing them. At this age, for the majority of us the daily happenings of the political scenario of Palestine didn’t interest us much (I’m not sure how many of us are even interested today). Nor did we really care about the extent to which the Alps beautified Switzerland. And the only reason we might watch the Animal Planet would’ve been because we found the sounds they made funny. We were too busy playing with our friends or joining some classes which would enhance our inborn traits.

We should watch TV with caution because we may get hooked on to it. It also causes harm to our eyes.

Okay, now who the hell started this one? It’s the BIGGEST hoax of our time. Watching too much TV from up close will make you myopic or astigmatic or something like that. Let me clear you of your dilemma, IT DOESN’T HAPPEN! It’s been scientifically proven that kids who are subjected to strain work (to the eyes) such as reading, TV, Computers are at a much higher risk of getting spectacles. However this effect takes place only when their eyes are developing, a process that ceases after 6-7 years of age. So this means that at 11 years of age, you can stay up all night with a packet of chip(s) and commit sins.

Leave the habit, don’t be ignorant!

TV makes us couch potatoes.

So does sitting on a chair from 9 AM to 3 PM with minimum break time and staring at a black rectangle (which might have become green and made of fiber at some places). But we can’t reduce the time at school now, can we? Oh now don’t give me crap saying that there are “games” periods, those are like twice in a week. Are you kidding me?

Somehow using TV for entertainment purposes was considered as a sin according to higher authorities. As if watching Friends was like taking a mural of a deity and smashing it to pieces and two movies back to back was a feat achieved only by the spoilt and delinquent.

Conclusion: The emphasis on writing an idealistic (idealistic according to the society by large) answer scripts (faultily termed as flawless) supercedes the thinking power. Though the teachers at the beginning of any writing activity say that try to be original and creative, they seldom mean it. This is because many of them truly believe in all those aforementioned points. Also students seldom feel rebellious when it comes to writing an essay and would much rather go with the general perceptions of things. So let me go ahead and blame the system, for its always easier to lay the blame on something else, right?

I've been contributing to quite a few other. The links to these blogs is on the right side.

See I've been a sweetheart and pointed it out too(With blood red color).

Do check them out when your're free(and you know what means don't ya)

Let there be rock DOS

The lights came in every hue and looked down upon us. Showering their light contemptuously at the millions of onlookers among which there was I. The place felt like a Rastafarian party. It reminded me of the good old days of ‘Hare Rama Hare Krsna’ being ad-libbed by saffron clad and long haired hippies promoting world peace and legalization of Hashish. There was a cloud of smoke in my vicinity and what more, it seemed to be perpetual. As one cloud would move on, another would strategically take its place. It wasn’t all tobacco, there was a lot of weed too, guess that was the saving grace. And then this stick wearing a dress apparates and he’s wet and is wearing this gigantic hat and I’m like, ‘What the hell is that?’ It’s (He’s) the epitome of glam rock. Steven Tyler.

And almost instantly he gets to work. The previous night Siddharth and me were listening to all Aerosmith songs(a pathetic attempt), so that on the D Day we wouldn’t look like schmucks head banging to stuff we didn’t know while the crowd chanted the song in unison, almost mocking us.

And then the song started. And I didn’t know it. I turned around to see Sid, with empty eyes, as though hinting to him the ignominy of being a fallen pseudo-fan. Sonam didn’t care much. She was too busy balancing herself on her toes, trying to get a glimpse of the onstage act, or so I though.

And then it happened again, the next song too! No clue whatsoever! Zilch! Yet I regained my confidence and started jumping up and down screaming, hooting and well trying to get a hint of the chorus. Boy was I looking like a jackass. My huge overgrown body screaming for me to cease the relentless motion. Telling me that I wasn’t meant for this sort of physical activity. Begging me to stop. And the weed.

And the weed

And the weed

It just kept coming from all directions, as though I was a sort of beacon and it surrounded me.

Tyler sang “Crazy”. Ah finally something familiar. Oh so familiar. The large screens started playing the video and almost everyone’s gaze fell to the young and carefree Alicia Silverstone (who features in the video).

Suddenly my ears get to hear the incoherent vocals from spaghetti clad damsel who is riding a man’s shoulder as though in a rodeo bar. Intoxicated probably because what she was singing didn’t make much sense.

Another thing I noticed during the concert was that Steven Taylor isn’t afraid of his sexuality. I understand the whole glam rock set up, but come on…

then there's this....

Oh come on, get a room!

After that Joe Perry announces that the true reason he’d come to India weren’t the elephants or the spices, its Kamasutra. He wanted to thank the nation of a billion where the Kamasutra took its birth and ironically people were forbidden to speak about it as though it doesn’t exist. I mean come on! A country of a billion people, somebody must be seriously getting laid!

Honestly, that is just freaky. Its like a cave! I have never seem a man with a mouth so wide!

Well, the concert was short, or so it seemed, apparently they sang a dozen songs. In between they decided to bring a couple of chairs and chill there.

Tyler was obsessed with saying ‘Namaste’, I think someone told him that it was the Indian equivalent of “Rock on dude!”, coz that’s the zeal with which he kept announcing it. The crowd was maniacal. Millions of yuppies head banging and swaying. I’d say it was a nice experience.

Let there be Rock- UNO

This entry has been due for a really long time and procrastination has been sweet

“Aerosmith are coming to India!”

“Really?”

“Hmm...That’s great. So it’s probably going to be Bangalore”

“Where else?”

“I’m so going to that concert. Yeah! Woo! It’s going to be one kickass concert. I'll be rocking and screaming all night! It’ll probably (main act) start at midnight and go on all night. I will go wild. Wild! I tell ya!”

I comforted myself with the thought of witnessing a rock act in real life atlast. I wouldn't remain a lowly concert virgin anymore. Something to look forward to in the holidays. Now, when someone would ask me the most cliched question that one could be asked during vacations:

Hey Sup/wassup/wazza/whats up? amongst others

And they'd tell me how they have been reading, sleeping, watching TV, going on and on about how they're getting to eat good food as though they'd just been enduring a Somalian summer, I'd have something in my arsenal to top it all.

I WENT FOR THE FUCKING CONCERT, YEAAAAAH!
I reached Bangalore on the 25th, whose dwellers still haven't lifted their head from shame ever since its name was changed to a much less extravagant Bengalooru. The past week had been hectic. Road trips had taken its toll on me. First Vellore, then Mysore, then Ooty and then Coimbatore. Our driver, knowing fairly well that we’d had no idea about the roadways of the glorious state of Tamil Nadu kept on asking us which route to take at each detour (obviously suggesting his preference as well). I guess it was his way of showing that we were inferior, far inferior as far as the topography went. Now that was obviously true, yet parents being the species they are just have to be extremely opinionated on everything. I guess they were trying to instill the habit of self imposed authority in me despite knowing very well that the man behind the wheel was quite the master of puppets here. I still can’t forget the amount of dust that was generated as our mean escape machine (non AC that too) hurtled down the highway, which in fact seemed like a never ending construction site, just that there didn’t seem to be much construction going on. I could feel a second layer of dust accumulate evenly on my face.

Finally I reached Bangalore, with a paralyzed buttock, a battered back and apparently the entire South India covering my face. The concert was a sort of salvation for which I had endured hell (which took a detour from Salem).

Siddharth, Sonam and Me reached the venue. Palace Grounds, Bangalore. The rock haven. We had decided to go about an hour late so that we wouldn’t have to witness the opening act by Galeej Gurus. What greeted me instead was the longest standing queue I had ever laid my eyes on, and quite a dynamic queue it was, with people coming in and joining. It was quite easy to get carried away and label every woman standing there as a whore.

Siddharth led us past the wall of human flesh, and we followed like prisoners of war towards the entry zone. After being frisked on numerous occasions (by now being totally convinced that this was a method of segregating the straight from the gay) by men of all sorts I finally reached the grounds.

I will never forget that sight. If there was ever a near perfect representation of the Poisson distribution that Mr. BKM so vividly tried to explain to us in Prob Stat class, this was it. Each spectator fused into the one standing around him/her to form what was the most massive silhouette I had ever witnessed.

The stage was concert-esque. It might sound blatantly hypocritical considering that this was my first actual concert, for I would not consider head banging to Daler Mehndi as a little lad while everyone around me were yelping “Oye!” and “Purr!” as one. The lights went off.

The shrills were earsplitting. From the corner of my eyes I could already see a bra strap fall off a shoulder (much to the ignorance of the Madame I suppose). The night had just begun.

Aerosmith was in the house

To be continued…

Digging the Past

One of Jolies earliest movies. Hackers!
The first time I saw it, my reaction:
Whathaaa!
Followed by a roaring laughter!

Mother’s day is celebrated throughout the world. On this day children present gifts to their Momma’s/Maatashri’s/Mum’s/Amma’s, it can be looked upon as a payback for all that milk they sucked when they were infants.

Its origin varies from nation to nation.

Some believe that Ancient Greeks sparked off the tradition for they had a festival called Mother Worship to honour Cybele, a great mother of the Greek gods.

In USA, the tradition emerged due to something totally different that what many may expect. There was this woman, Ann Jarvis. A young married cleanliness freak, she wanted to promote sanitation (probably back then they were perpetually covered with dust). During the Civil War she organized the Women’s Work Days, and this legion of her would go around and clean whatever they could find. This trend eventually caught on in 45 states, before hitting the entire nation.

Today is Father’s day

No rich history here. It was just made to complement the Mother’s day, for the sake of secularism I suppose.

Are IIT toppers models?

IIT-JEE!
For many, it spells terror, anxiety and even the ones who dismiss the competition(because they beat it) rather saying that it was fun or interesting would agree that it did give them goose bumps, at least as the days inched closer.

Today the IIT industry has become a huge investment ground with new coaching academies springing up in every nook and corner. There are areas entirely dedicated to the IIT coaching industry and the whole neighborhood thrives on it. The roads are covered with pamphlets and brochures of various coaching institutes.

It’s almost taken for granted that to get into IIT, you have to have coaching. And in many places (AP being the foremost here), it starts from an early age. Sometime it is even before the kid has reached puberty.

Every year, the IIT-JEE topper becomes a national celebrity. His photo comes on the front page of every news paper. He gives countless interviews to various media agencies. And thus the drama starts.

It’s a known fact that many toppers accept money from institutes that haven’t been affiliated to, just so that they can advertise for them. Now the question that needs to be answered is that is this right? This has been talked about on various blogs. Vivek addresses the problem on his blog.

What he's basically asking is that are JEE toppers models for any academy that can be hired? We might say that it seems ethically wrong. At least that’s what our gut feeling says at first instinct.
But then he also says what about a Dhoni who says that a 7 UP made him the brilliant cricketer that he is now, or Roberto Carlos attributing his football skills to the sports-drink Gatorade?
Aren’t these people lying too? So then why should the education industry be singled out? It’s a business after all. The coaching institutes are factories that need ranks because only then will they get more and more students and there never seems to be a plethora of them for newer buildings (branches) keep springing up.


In JEE
2005 2004 Priya Gupta of Delhi secured AIR 2. She was overwhelmed. Smart she was and had joined FIITJEE, a prestigious IITJEE training institute with branches all over India. However a rival institute in the mean time offered jobs to those teachers at FIITJEE who had trained Ms Gupta. When the results were declared, the rival institute claimed that they too were responsible for her success since those teachers now belong to them.

Are IITJEE toppers models?

The problem here according to me is that, since these IITJEE toppers are normal guys and girls next door, their word is taken more seriously than say a Milind Soman advertising for Nivea cold cream or the sorts.
Also in the case of celebrities like actors and sportsperson, the public has seen them grow from rookies to superstars where as in the case of an IIT topper only the final outcome is presented.
Another problem is after tenth grade the student is rather gullible and well in most cases so are his/her parents and doesn’t know which institution to join, seeing AIR hailing from a particular institution will make him/her want to join it.
Another major reason why it feels wrong is because in the case of a sports-person, celebrity you know that its like a lottery, as in only 15 people make it to the squad, or only 3-4 movies are successful each year, the point I am trying to make is that, whether Sachin drinks Boost to improve his performance or smells Agarwal incense sticks, it doesn’t matter to the common because he doesn’t want to be a cricket. But as opposed to becoming a cricketer or an actor, IIT is very much reachable, with 12000 people being called this year (including all the lists, Ok I've included reservation seats, that’s not the context here).

Do ponder over it…

Life in Metro

I saw Life in a Metro Yesterday.

I had heard from friends who had seen the movie that it was worth watching. But I didn't want to watch it because I was afraid I already knew the plot. I mean come on how hard could it be to guess? The name of the movie is Metro. Obviously the movie had to thrive on sex and more sex. Sex in the elevator, sex in the car, sex on the rooftop and sex with multiple men. And obviously this isn't the exhaustive list.(Thats impossible!). There would have to be a lot of stress, because once you earn so much and don't sleep(sleeping for rest not pleasure, pun NOT intended) work-related mostly and well the stress would lead to huge differences between the couples(mostly married ones) and this would again lead to more stress and they'd find solace in ..well...sex. With another person obviously. Some how Indians never get into drugs. It's either women or Booze(or both). At least that's what they show on the golden screen. Drugs are mostly forbidden territory, a taboo not worth chasing. But drinking bottles of poison, consuming unfathomable number of tablets(they never mention what those are, they are either really small like homeothepic medicene or really large ones, like rat poison) and newly introduced into the list, courtesy of Life in a Metro: Phenyl.
And the movie would also have few item numbers thrown in between(ok so I was wrong about this one) and because the director wouldn't want gay activists butting in, ergo a dash of homosexuality would have to be thrown in albeit it would HAVE to be something like how it was projected in Page 3. You know, being caught in the act, betraying a beautiful innocent girl in the process.(Co-incidentally it happens to be Miss Sen here as well, are they hinting something here?)
As it turned out, the movie was somewhat on those line but the director or rather the script-writer made one thing very clear: YOU CANNOT BE HAPPY IN A CITY.
Well even if you are, its short-lived. Because someone will fall short of breath or semen(though not necessarily in that order). Every two minutes feelings keep developing. And I keep insisting that it's the music that does this is. Its been stereotyped. Make a girl laugh, say something while looking her in the eye(with some really sentimental music playing in the background) and eventually all the moments will flash in her head and she'll leave her current hubby/boyfriend/fuck-buddy and come after you, running(either on a railway platform, road, beach etc).
This is fine.
But then something happens. Its almost as though the script-writer is contradicting his earlier gospel and goes against the stereotype and makes one of the couple accept the truth. Family is important. You can't leave your hubby(even if hes been having the best sex of his life for the last two years and you have been getting NOTHING AT ALL). I guess that's to show that its a man's world and that women have to endure everything(which isn't necessarily true, though as it turns out in most cases they have to).
One of the greatest gifts given to women is their power to weep. Seriously you have to be a real bastard if you don't sympathise with a woman who is crying, and to add to that the background score, its a fool proof combo. For directors, this is a steal if they capitalise on it. So even if a girl knows that she is sleeping with the man who
1. Is married with a kid
2.Is her boss
3.Will give her perks in return
she feels that maybe someday after relentless hours of fucking she'll change his feelings towards her(whore) to something else(love of his life).

The worst part is that she is successful in doing so, but by that time someone else has come into her life because you can only love someone who takes care of you when you being the douche bag that you are drinks a bottle of phenyl because your boss who was initially humping you just to let out his stress won't love you.
So well conscience comes into play and as usual messes everything up.

Also, the director very clearly wanted to show one simple fact. Old people can't have sex. They can sleep in the same bad and even have a live-in relationship but can't fornicate. Nay! That is unthinkable. But that's discrimination don't you think? Everyone around them is getting some and they have to kill the poor old lady(played beautifully by Nafisa Ali) before she gets any with her boyfriend(Dharmender, oh yes it was quite a treat watching him as well. Everytime he's day "I love you" in his "Main tera khoon peejaonga" tone, I just couldnt help sniggering).

Eventually they had to end the movie, so they showed that everyone is happy the way they are, as in the respective people they were with(or without) and that the hulla gulla should stop. It was almost like a stay-order had been passed and no more fooling around was allowed.Otherwise, if the story was to continue, we'd end up having 7 factorial relationships(read elementary permutation and combination on how).

The music was good, really good. They got these bangladeshi and kashmiri dudes to sing. They blended it into the movie by actually casting them as full time singers in the movie. At any given high or low, they'd appear with their band baja(and guitar/banjo) and start singing. Kudos to them!

Partly fictional, partly real

During a conversation:
'I'm going to miss you a lot' said I
'Oh come on, why think about whats going to happen? Besides you can't change it, so might as well get over it' was her retort.
'Was it easy for you to come up with that line?' I asked

She didn't reply.

During another conversation:
'....and well, that's about it. You're leaving tomorrow. It's going to be tough, one whole month.' I said
Here I was pouring out my feelings to her, telling her how much I am going to miss her and she was nonchalant about the whole affair. I felt almost a rage build up inside me and wanted to scream at her face
'How can you be so opaque?' is what I wanted to lash out at her, but somehow refrained from doing so.
And we carried on with our regular conversation and I continued to make her laugh but deep down melancholia was slowly settling in.

The next day, I was all groggy eyed when I logged online and realised that an offline message was waiting for me.

Damn, I’m going to miss talking to you so much. I’m already dreading it. I’m going to miss the way you talk, the analogies you draw, the way you make fun of everything, the way you make me laugh, the way you irritate me, the way you get worried about me…everything.

I just stared at the screen for a few minutes.

All you chai lovers, this is how tea is made! This is a small tea factory called well...The Tea Factory, in Ooty. They took us for a tour arond the factory. So here's the deal:




In the first step, the tea leaves are heated and all the moisture is removed from them. Once dried, they are pulverised and made to dust.
This dust goes on a conveyor belt and is further dried
I guess this just smoothens it and well spreads it evenly and enters the googy.

The googy is a rotating hollow cylinder, entering which the tea gets its granulated shape that we're so used to seeing.
What goes it has to come out.
Here its placed in large trays and raked till the color changes to brown
These are now transfered to the fermentation chamber

After they are fermented, sorting takes place.

And well thats about it.

Looking at the factory, I pondered over how less an initial cost these machines would take and that setting up a tea factory isnt all that difficult. The machines are simple mechanical ones(which I confirmed) and well process as such doesnt require much labour too(unless done on a very large scale). The returns are huge as compared to the low initial investment. But yea, you gotta be next to a tea farm, this tea factory grows its own tea.

When Orkut results in Death

We hear about it so often, yet unless it happens to us, we dont tend to take it seriously. Be it having unprotected sex, drinking water which isnt clean or meeting people after getting to know them from chatrooms/social networking sites.
Its hard to figure out a person's intentions when he is online because he can seem to appear anyone he wants to be.
You can state that your passions are Hiking, Bungee Jumping and Rocket Science and that you've got the perfect figure(despite any of that being true). But the power of an avatar or lack of face to face conversations can also help 'psycho's' hide their identity quite effectively.
Recently a girl and guy got to know each other through Orkut, became really close pals, wrote each other sweet testimonials and the works. The guy was already married. They fell in love and met...

Find out what happened next...

Its quite easy to blame all this on fate and take the easy way out, but come on! Be sensible.
This is the guys profile:
(You can still see the girls testimonial I think)
http://www.orkut.com/Profile.aspx?uid=348385650417627297

And this is the girl's:
http://www.orkut.com/Profile.aspx?uid=11725203022944506305

A Tout le monde
Be careful on any social networking site or any of the chatrooms. I know it sounds like I am sermonising here, but its been happening to so many people and its so easy to fall in the trap.

You lie so much that you believe yourself

-Metallica

My days in Bangalore have been quite relaxing and I think I have exceeded my sleep quota(if ever there was one) by a massive margin. Finally the D-day has almost arrived and its tomorrow. Sonam, a close pal from BITS has also come to head bang(though I dont kinow how much of that can be done with Steven Tyler singing) with us fellow rockers and spent the entire day with us. A substantial part of it went watching the movie "Shootout at Lokhandwala" and well...what can I say I was impressed.

The movie is from the White Feather production house, which was co-founded by Sanjay Dutt. The movie says that it was based on true rumours and that it was. Closely connected to the Mumbai Blasts and Dawood Ibrahim and other superstar tags, the movie was rather entertaining. Just one thing, there seemed to be no twist in the tale. Its like, fine , agreed, its cool and all, killing dozens of people and wasting excessive amounts of bullets but there is no twist. But my oh my was I excited.

I realised its probably because of the background music.

Damn, they hype it up so much. Everytime, Vivek Oberoi starts smoking a cigerette or pops a cap in someone's head(thats nigger for shooting someone down), this really cool music starts playing in the background, without which the act would seem..quite bland. And then there is this choir that starts giving backing vocals and its like, oh my god, killing people is like so cool, even though you know what they are doing actually happened and its outright illegal and wrong.
The movie quite clearly tells you the repercussions of being an outlaw and more importantly, messing around with higher powers(such as larger dons living in dubai) can really screw matters and end up with you getting killed. You're much better off being a sycophant.
The incidents are apparently mostly real( I verified that by wiki-ing and googleing for over 2-3 hours). The career graph of Maya Dolas, the notorious gangster played by Vivek Oberoi can be plotted and is something like this

Co-incidentally this is also the Stress vs Strain Graph of a untypically brittle material as shown on Wikipedia.
The movie has a nice tempo and there is not a single moment when you feel bored, just that the director has a wonderful way of pissing the audience by sneaking in two item numbers without any meaning and which are totally irrelevant to the plot thus giving the movie its aesthetic value. Also, Tushar Kapoor must be the funniest hit-man ever. The director has really tried to make him look like a macho-man, but has miserably failed much to my amusement.

However, after wiki-ing about the Lokhandwala shootout, I stumbled upon ULHASNAGAR. Its apparently a major gangster town and its sarcastically said(though has known to be true) that there are killings in this town on every tuesday. Surprisingly the literacy rate of this town is 80%(according to the 2001 census), when the national average was only 60%.

Though I've never been hooked onto the technical world and well gadgets werent really my objects of desire, but in the last few weeks, I've frequented the webpages of WIRED.com than ever before.
Was doing some random googling some days back and found this interesting article.

After reading it and a little bit of wiki-ing on comcast, this is what I find out

"Comcast has a policy of terminating broadband customers who allegedly use excessive bandwidth. Comcast has declined to disclose a numerical bandwidth limit, arguing that the limit is variable on a monthly basis and dependent on the capacity of specific cable nodes. Comcast claims this policy only affects users whose bandwidth consumption is among the top one percent of high-speed internet customers."

Top 1%????
Thats top 1% of the second largest ISP in the USA. Though Comcast officials claim thats 0.01%.
And sometimes comcast bills you excessively for porn that you never ordered, there have been instances where people have been billed for nearly 1500$ for porn, sporting the Indian mentality, thats about 75000 rupees, now thats a lotta porn, A LOT! And they give you a bill, where the porn ordered is one after the other within a gap of 5 seconds.

By the way, there have been recent updates on the Comcast Issue that the article above talks about, read it here at
http://comcastissue.blogspot.com/
Its highly amusing.

One look at the consumerist website and you'd get to find out that there are thousands others like Frank and Elizabeth.

Google's cache is just amazing man!
I found a poem, written by moi, which was published in The Hindu during the whole NIE(Newspaper in Education) phase and which I thought had gone astray forever, for I lost the only hard copy that I had(misplaced would be misnomer). Years down the line, I type in my name into the coveted search box(just a regular ego search) and voila! Guess what I find?
A poem written by me when I was in class VIII(always had a little bit of a fascination with roman numerals).

Though the cache can have its repurcussions later on. Imagine blasting someone(boss maybe?) on a personal blog, you know just a regular vent of fury and then later realizing that it was all a big mistake once the head has been cooled. But those words will be etched for the world to see and you cant take them off( Techies, can they?). So think hard before you hit that publish button!

First and foremost let me apologize for the small picture, this is the maximum it would stretch, so for those who dont have a 6/6 or something close, its going to be a struggle.

Right, coming to the point!

INDIA-TODAY has done it again! Time and time it manages to piss people off with its surveys which has the opinions of 400 teachers(atleast it was the last time I checked). Their tiff with BITS hasnt yet been resolved and well their rankings without a doubt are pretty fucked up.

What is surprising is the inclusion of VIT at the number 14th spot, thus making it(as they claim on their website), the best private engineering college in India. Being a Bitsian, I would love to give the VIT publicity dept. a piece of my mind, if the authorities decided to step up to me.

What is also surprising is by how much the Outlook and India Today Survey differ, every year. I remember last year Thapar College(TIET), Patiala crept through every ranking onto a coveted 8-9th position and this year its name hasnt even been mentioned in the top 25. Can a college really fare that badly in just one year? And can VIT which was at 35 something last year become the best Private college of this nation of a billion?

IIIT-A ahead of IIIT-H? Seriously? IT-BHU at 18? And since when was IIIT-A's reputation better than that of DCE or NIT-W and other biggies?

Are the chaps at India Today(and AC Nielson) really putting in effort while coming up with the rankings? Year after year, we see the rankings where the top 5-6 spots are taken by the IITs arranged in a random order, and the other spots keep shuffling like a deck of cards. Its been 5 years and seriously they cannot take the public for granted anymore. Many people tend to swear by the ratings because they feel that since INDIA TODAY is a credible magazine, the rankings will also adhere to those standards. I havnt seen this years Nasscom Survey which appears in the OUTLOOK magazine yet, so I guess the cussing regarding that should take some time.

P.S: If you notice all the categorial ranks you'll see that they form a nice pattern, at least in the case of IIT's and also NIT-T etc.

I have just finshed a mini trip down south.

Actually it wasnt that mini. I made the following observations

Road trips can be a bitch when they span for over a week and your legs start behaving in a funny manner.

Ooty is one dirty town, it should be nicknamed the 'Cradle of Filth', and the place has got a mind of its own. The clouds are supposed to come into our rooms early morning, instead they choose to chill out a few hundred feet above and decide to piss over us, just for the fun of it.

There seems to be a Hutch monopoly in Ooty, trying to find an airtel top-up is about as difficult as finding a Bose product within your budget.

The more greek words in the name of a hotel, the worse it is.

Just because you're late and its been hot all along, you cannot go to a hill station with no warm clothes and say to yourself that 'Aah, its gonna be cool'. You know why? Coz its not gonna be cool, its gonna be COLD. And theres a difference.

Its quite amusing to see foreign tourists stare at a sign board that says : Indians 5 rupees, Others 500 rupees(We accept only cash!).

The trip started from Hyderabad via Vellore and then to Blore. From there we headed towards Mysore and finally to Ooty. We came back from Coonoor via Coimbatore, Salem, Hosur and finally back to Blore City which greeted us with arms wide open, awful downpour and a traffic jam that I'd never forget.

One complete year has come to an end.Well, almost.

My first year away from home. Living on my own. With people I had never met before(umm ok I knew some of them). My first year in BITS has been nothing short of overwhelming. There were times when I was on a high(literally), then there were times of extreme melancholy. But all in all there was no monotony, no boredom. My seniors say its the enthusiasm of the freshies that dies down by the third year because in this little place, there is only so much that you can see. I beg to differ, its about seeing the same thing in different light everyday.
I made some really close friends. I mean the guys who see you in your underwear trotting in the hallway will stick on with you till the every end won't they?
I am in love with the campus. I wont go to the extent of calling it plush, but well its somewhere there. Walking on crisp leaves, finding n+1 gates that lead us outside the campus(some of which were created from mere orifices), giving refuge to dogs(I never would've imagined oing that any where, I'm mongrel phobic), living on fluids and so much more. I've learnt more from the people here than I have from the books. Does that sound like a convenient excuse? Probably.
I have been termed as the "notorious chappal thief" for the obvious reasons. Its a tag I have to live with for the rest of my bitsian life. I have seriously never worn so many different kinds of footwear. One of every hue, one on each leg, each one so different from the other.
I have learnt that breakfast is the best thing BITS can offer in terms of meals from the mess, for thats the ultimate high and nothing can get better than that(I hope you're getting it).
But above all, its the freedom. Freedom is what you make of it. You can either get wasted, or not do something constructive, its all cool. This place lets you be.

The following is a note I found in the corridors of my hostel yesterday night/today morning:




There were talks of Our President APJ Abdul Kalam coming to the campus of BITS Pilani( thats where I reside incase you've forgotten). My sources tell me that he was approached thrice and finally succumbed to our persuasion and is now coming to our campus in less than 3 hours.

The campus has had a almost-massive makeover. The roads have become visibly cleaner, atleast the roads facing the main institute building. The leaves will continue to fall and I have never seen a rake in the campus, maybe they are stored in a secret chamber somewhere deep inside the campus. The graffiti caused by the bird scat will also not cease for we dont control their metabolism and a pigeon/crow genocide will probably have an undesirable effect on the campus I suppose.

There have been marking on the road using fresh white paint, so that the chauffers of his excellency will not get lost in our huge campus, where one can easily lose ones track if one isnt careful enough to follow the huge gigantic signboards which can be found on every corner of the institute.

The rickshaw pullers, the redi wallahs and other members of the working class have been disposed of for the day for we want to present a "hi-tech" image of the institute, which it is ofcourse.

Its not at all strange that out of 6000 odd people around 1200 students have been shortlisted by a highly confidential process which is unknown to many(hence bearing a testimonial to its confidentiality), for there's always a next time.

The clock tower and the roof tops of all bhawans(hostels) are infested with snipers who will hunt you down incase you move an inch faster than the average human response time, for they are extensively trained.

All in all, seems like its going to be a good show.

I recently got to know that Lucknow University(LU) is going to scrap some courses off the list. The reason? Too many students with criminal records are taking up these courses. These include Criminology,Criminal Justice and Social Welfare amongst others. In an effort to cleanse the university of its hooligans, any student who has had a criminal record in the past has been expelled.

Personally I find that extremly amusing.

The college authorities say that political leaders and anti-social chiefs join the college and take up these courses to camouflage their activities to pollute the educational environ by contesting for the Lucknow Univ Students Union(LUSU).

Oriental studies and Linguistics has also been proposed to be scrapped. I want to ask, how is this going to help?

The authorities say that they want to remove all those courses which arent preferred by the "regular " students.

Its bizarre.
Every computer in my hostel is playing just one song. This is the very song that everyone keeps humming while in class, mess or even the bogs(bathroom of graduating students). It is this song that keeps me up all night because someone or the other keeps singing it. And the versions change too, newer lyrics keep getting added to the existing ones, the tune too changes ranging from classical to hip-hop to thrash. High-pitched shrills, baritones and echoes can all be heard from dawn to dusk.
The song? Zombie by the Cranberries.
Okay! Agreed that the song is decent, but the sudden enthusiasm? It was sung by a guy during one of the inter-hostel contests and since then everyone has been going ga-ga over it. Its been circulated to every computer through the LAN. Every comp I see, I notice a media player icon on the desktop with "Zombie" etched on it.

I keep on forgetting that I have a blog and that I am supposed to update it every now and then. That should change I guess.

Weather has been quite unpredictable lately. Just when everyone thought that the few millimetre of rain in pilani's quota got exhausted, we get these bolts of lightning and sandstorms with winds blowing in at high velocities in all directions and the rain spanking the earth. Co-incidentally there the forces of nature have always intervened on the even of all the major exams that we've had so far.
Recently I developed few ulcers in my mouth, I infer that its from the lack of vitamin B complex in the healthy and nutritious diet that is supplied to us here at Vidya Vihar. Its pathetic, really. Can't eat anything spicy or solid. Having been living on curd rice and frooti, Bah! I am sick of it!

And congrats to Martin Scorcese, for finally getting the golden dude with the sword.

Orkut.com

A creation of Mr. Orkut Buyyokoten, a Stanford-ite and an employee of Google, which ensured that the vetti(jobless for those who aren't accustomed to the Bitsian slang) are never left jobless. It's re-united many lost friends, spread the message of many events and also ruined many lives(oh havn't you ever been addicted to it?).

It is supposed to be a forum for healthy interaction. It has all these communities based upon people's interests, which one can join. One can read and contribute(if he has joined) to the topics in each community.

There are all types of communities, and I mean ALL types. You got communites on popular and not-so-popular TV shows, movies, personalities, brands and also stuff like "The Pope should break dance" and "Bitch make me a sandwich" which is about guys telling girls to STFU make them a sandwich".

Coming to these communities. When you join any of these communities on orkut, you are demonstrating your affiliation with them. Rationally speaking, it would be expected that since you've joined these communites you should take part in the proceedings.
Yet we see that people join the communities and remain "dormant" for extended periods of time, sometimes even indefinitely.
Many a times, joining communites becomes an obsession. You just want to join more and more communities. You know you've really lost it when you join the community called "I have joined too many communities" . And then to top it off, you also have the community "Orkut Rehab".

Now for the ultimate question. What goes on in these communities?
One would expect that the community would be brimming with meaningfull discussions on the topics associated with the community. Enthusiastic members chipping in with their valuable opinions on the issues posted in the community forums.
Lets take the example "Gladiator", the community dedicated to the Oscar Winning Ridley Scott beauty. A quick glance at the forum will introduce you to the following topics:
#Give only one word for MAXIMUS
#let us make Gladiator the number one rated movie of all time
#Want to be my friendzzzzz
Out of the 200 topics in the community only 2-3 have received replies in double figures.

In another community "Internet Addicts", one of the posts read "How many hours do you spend on the internet?"
The active members of the community enthusiastically answered in succession
"atmost 2 hrs..Or sometimes 3 to 4 hrs.There was a time when I spend almost 8hrs. continous for 3 days"

"hmm.. so i m really addicted :D
12-16 hrs daily.. :)"

Almost all communities that have a substantial number of people are flooded with irrelevant games. In one of these games the last person to post wins(does that explain the smirk on my face), in others you have to answer a queston with a question. I am not against these games, do what ever you want out of your free will, but keep a separate platform for this will you? I'm sure having posts such as "Will you go out with the person above you?" in a "Aspiring Cricket Writers" community is quite relevant ;)

Also observed is a phenomenon that in every community there are a number of posts in foreign languages such as portuguese and spanish. So in an IIT-JEE aspirants community you find stuff like "FOTOS DO FLAGRA DA CICARELLI NA PRAIA"

To witness this phenomenon just create a community open to all and dont assign any moderators and voila!

I admit that for a while I too was mesmerised by Orkut and in this frenzy joined many communities aimlessly. Before I knew it, there were 356 communities on my profile. I figured out that if I spend a minimum of 2 minutes on every community every week, I'd end up spending 1/30*356, thats nearly 12 hours.
Now out of these 356 I hardly checked out 50-60 communites (even if once in a bluemoon) and actively participated in less than 15.

It is also observed that regardless of the number of people that are in a community, the active population is limited to a very small fraction. The vast majority(like me), just join the community and then forget about it. And this vast majority makes up those huge 6 digit numbers.

I am right now in the process of un-joining all those communities(about 98% of the origianl number), though I must admit its going to take a long time.

-Rishabh Kaul

I am suffering from what most of you refer to as a writer’s block. The earlier sentence was thus framed because I have never suffered from a writer’s block before, or if not that, then for a very long time at the least. I use the word “suffered”, as though it’s some sort of disease because it is. It a really pathetic feeling to have when you have the drive, but you lack the what’s that again? Yeah, that’s how it is. I don’t even know what’s missing.

Generally what happens when one suffers from this terrible disease is that one cannot bring one’s self to write anything that remotely makes sense to the target audience(if there is one intended) and neither to ones own self(which is actually bad). This is usually because one is devoid of any ideas in one’s cerebrum, which I believe is the main controller in our brain (something like the brain of the brain)

This is what generally happens.

Sometimes what happens is this:
Your brain gets overloaded and you don’t know what to do. By overload, I’m referring to all those ideas that are jam-packed in your brain. And yes everyone has ideas.
Now when you feel like writing something, and get the pen to paper or your finger tips to the surface of the keyboard(which ever suits you), in your brain there is a volley of random ideas each of which is quite unique and would make for an excellent write-up, story, play-you name it.
The initiative for your writing something is generally a central theme, a rough mental picture of what you are going to write, and then gradually you build up on this skeleton until something concrete comes up. And finally you polish that and voila!
Now this train of ideas in your head clashes with your central theme. Before you start to build up on this central theme you are confronted by a few thousand other ideas and you feel like including all of them somehow in this write-up of yours.

What you do then is erase whatever you have written up till then and start over.

By now you would have guessed that this is a case of infinite recursion.

Okay,perhaps not infinite.

I've got my holidays going on. And what better way to spend them than to watch movies. I've started watching Hindi ones. I started off with MAHAL.
Its a 1940's thriller.
Let me first give you the gist of the movie and don't worry I wont give out the plot as I've been doing so far for the last few movies that I've written about.
The movie has Ashok Kumar, Madhubala and a Mansion starring in it.
Shanker has recently acquires a mansion at a govt. auction. Upon reaching there he gets the low down on the folk lore about the Haveli. According to this, the builder of the house dies soon after building it. His fiance can't bear the shock and dies thereafter. Shanker sees the painting of the builder and is shocked to find out that he's a clone. As the clock strikes two he hears a lady singing, whom he cannot initially see. He truly believes that he is the reincarnation of the builder and that they are meant for each other. What follows next is an obsession. He goes totally crazy thinking about her. Every night he is hypnotised by the song of the dame. He gets married to another lady. She has a hard time with her man considering that he is mesmerised by another woman.
She soon starts going insane and complains to the police about his husbands ongoing flings. Watch the movie to know what happens next.
What I enjoyed the most about the movie was the simplicity of the plot. Its wasnt anything fancy, but it gripped the viewer for the entire 2 and a half hours that the movie was playing. The cinematography was out of this world. Black and white truly is the way to go for horror flicks and thrillers, given that the camerawork is good.
Also, let me confess that I am truly in awe of Madhubala's beauty. She had the sweetest most beautiful face of her era if not of all time. ALL she had to do to get me addicted to her was to raise one eyebrow and deliver a dialogue. I vow to watch as many movies of her as I can in these holidays.
The music of the movie too is quite splendid. Yes! This is the movie which has the Lata Mangeshkar classis "Aaayega Aayega Ane wala...".

Casino Royale is the latest Bond movie.
Bond movies have that charm associated with it. Something is so cool, so sexy and so suave about these movies.
So how did I feel after seeing this one? In one word: Strange. Strange good? Strange bad? Umm..I really don't know, just plain strange.Right coming to the point. Bond movies is mostly about the gadgets and the girls. If you remove either one of them the movies becomes too bland.
This movie had hardly any gadgets. A watch was just a watch, an Omega yes ofcourse, but all it did was show time. A phone was only but a phone, used to make outstation calls and send messages. No knives coming out from sleeves, no camouflaged cars, no cameras in a pen. Even a gun is used in the most primitive way, like a stone, used to hit masses. It was sort of very bollywoodish with a lot of Dishum dishum, running around construction sites and very little sex.
The bond girls too! Very disturbing. Ok Eva Green was decent, but the other latino one whose name I cannot remember was hardly mention-worthy.
The movie shows the scenario when Bond has been just assigned with the 00 status (the 00 in 007 means license to kill). There is this dude Le Chiffre, who is a sort of safekeeper for terrorists. He plans to blow up a plane, the largest of its kind on the Miami Airport, Bond stops this. Now to recover the losses associated with the plan failing, Le Chiffre organises a Poker game in Texas. Bond somehow manages to get inot the playing 8. Now Bond has to somehow win the game, thus making Le Chiffre bankrupt, thus busting his tushy because then the scum of the earth will be after his ass. Le chiffre will have to seek refuge and MI6 will capitalise on this.
The plot as such is very un interesting and to some interesting confusing.
Daniel Craig. What's with having a blond Bond? And whats with that body? He makes Pierce Brosnan look like a stick with genitals. The acting as such was quite ordinary. The movie induces several yawns, especially during the 2nd show. The director Martin Campbell, who co-incidentally also directed former Bond movie Goldeneye, decided to make this movie very realistic, as in Bond was stripped of his demi-god status(which one probably acquires when one is made a double O). However that sort of disappointed me. Bond isn't supposed to be realistic. He isn't supposed to have blood stains, he isn't supposed to be held captive. He is supposed to fight villians in a suit and leave the scene without a scratch. He is supposed to RIDE his cool car, not faint in it. Everyone has been marvelling about the fact that the realistic bond is cool awesome, how they love Daniel Craig, well I miss Mr. Brosnan.
But then on second thought, maybe thats just me.

I just saw one of the coolest movies ever ade, or atleast thats what I thought of it.
Pulp Fiction.
Tarantino is god. He is a genius with the camera. The way the movie was made, the way how the lives of different people merge together, the way it ALL makes sense finally. It's brilliant!
Here is a dialogue from the movie which I feel just has to be put up on my blog.
Its the character of Samuel L Jackson, Jules. Here goes:


There's a passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you. I been sayin' that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never really questioned what it meant. I thought it was just a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker before you popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. Now I'm thinkin': it could mean you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could be you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be a shepherd.

It's 3.43, or so claims the clock on my roomy's computer. Remember the comprees I had mentioned few posts earlier? Well, they're here. 5 more to go. Then, I'll be free. But its rather strange, that I've not felt homesick at all these past few months. Guess I love this place too much, but then lately I've been feeling rather lonely. I dont know why. I'm sure its not homesickness, its just plain loneliness.
Bharti Yadav is back in the news.
Flashback:
Right, so there was this dream boat she was in love with, a college-mate. Her brother didn't like this bloke, and so he along with his cousin decided to eliminate the lover, Nitish Katara. So they kidnap him while he's out to attend a marriage and then murder him.
Try looking at the whole situation from her point of view.
Bharti Yadav after a while turns hostile and has been like that ever-since. She makes claims such as "Nitish" was just a friend.
Now the family is also quite powerful, the dad being an ex MP. So she must have been a lone warrior in this when the event took place, considering the Katara family couldnt do much. Bharati must have got threats from her brother and cousins on numerous occasions. Her family too must have been pressurising her to shut her trap, on top of that she is a girl and I am sure mustn't be having much of a say in the house. So they pack her off to London. Media wants a piece of her too.
She too must be feeling that since she has lost his lover already, none of this is going to get him back. Maybe there is so much love between the siblings that occasionally killing ones lover doesnt really affect the other person. Or maybe she loves her life way too much.