tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51713877680702280672024-03-13T22:21:09.429-07:00Umm... Wow! Huh?Think about it... Love it! Forget it :<Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-28880239492674881942015-04-02T20:41:00.001-07:002015-04-02T20:51:33.497-07:00#WashBucketChallenge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"BlogAdda invites you to take a pledge that you will #ShareTheLoad of household chores and not burden just one family member. Gentlemen, we want you to take up this challenge to give the ladies of the house some respite from doing the laundry, and blog about the experience."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As soon as I read the above lines from BlogAdda, I really
wanted to write on this. Well, since I have been away from my home for quite
some time now and I do the washing chores all by myself. So yeah I am looking
for an opportunity where I get a respite from this. Of course, I get some
respite when I back home but even then I still wash. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well, I think I should
give you a brief washing background and thus the washing history of men like
me. Men who can relate to washing but were never able to (nor find time to)
write a Washing story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Long long ago, in the days of <b>‘Washing powder Nirma’</b> jingle
before this thing called washing machine was bought at home, my mom wanted me
to wash clothes. Somehow at that point
of time, I thought washing clothes was the most boring household chore on
earth. Arranging the books in my shelf, shopping for some errands from the
market and even washing my dinner plate seemed to be better. <b>Washing clothes
was however the most boring job</b>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I still grumble when I think about the day I
spent 1 hour washing clothes trying to make my vest as clean as the one shown
in those silly advertisements. But that
never happened. After that I accepted the truth and washed on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">However I have realized that I spend quite a good part of my
life washing clothes. I have stayed away from my family in the last 1.5 years
and so I have been washing clothes without a washing machine. In fact, twice in the last 2 weeks I was
washing clothes but remembered about the Ariel matic powder only after
finishing the weekly washing. The fact that Blog Adda have promoted Ariel matic
using the Washing machine picture hasn't really helped. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I wash clothes. <b>But then I usually don’t use a
Washing machine</b>. This I think is the story of the Indian male. For a moment, let’s keep all these fancy reports aside. I now wonder that there is gender stereotyping here and it is against
men and not against women. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArKZr-7IP31Nk3r7tus3dnJ_Y4usy8w4elbhBy2OQ2dLd8S9c3oIU4vkiddKczveSn41mjpOHUlqLjLCIOZRx0J5o6i4hvEKB6ZxJDDV4tDftC6To6Y2UUVLlXMCj5PXUiCk85IWbR0iQ/s1600/IMG_20150403_082854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We wash clothes but
then it is such a mundane weekend (read Sunday late night) activity that there
is little excitement doing it. I once remember even damaging my phone trying to
click a silly picture while washing my clothes.
I wasn't really sure if I should do that this time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Luckily I have traveled to my native place this week. Now I
have a washing machine around and thus the inclination to write about Ariel
matic. (We are finally done with the background story for that. Phew!!!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As I was about to begin the #WashBucketChallenge, I
discovered that I could count the number of times I used a washing machine. It
was not more than 5 times for sure. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So
then, BlogAdda and Ariel matic have indeed succeeded in pushing me to do
something that I am not really used to doing. I am indeed doing a #Sharetheload
with my family.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now finally for a few words on the product – Ariel Matic Washing
powder</span></div>
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<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">I have used the Ariel matic power to wash my not-really-dirty
clothes. Unfortunately these clothes aren't</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"> really dirty and so I can’t really
tell you how effectively Ariel matic removes stains like curry, chocolate, ink
etc</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>The powder is very light</b>. This means that the
quantity of the powder that you get for a fixed weight would be higher than the
quantity of a heavier powder.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">The washing powder <b>does a clean job washing</b> the
clothes and gets them to shine. It also leaves an aromatic fragrance on the
clothes</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">The <b>quantity of powder</b> that is needed to wash a
certain number of clothes is also less as compared to other powders. This is
perhaps why Ariel products are priced higher than the other products like Tide.</span></li>
<li style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">Ariel should perhaps promote more such sample since
a middle class family like ours usually gets intimidated seeing the price of
Ariel products. This is what my Dad says. (Yet another Male consumer insight
about #washingpowders). However using this sample has showed that the amount of
powder that is needed is less which perhaps explains the price. </span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This post is a part of the<a href="http://ariel.blogadda.com/"> #WashBucketChallenge</a> activity at <a href="http://www.blogadda.com/">BlogAdda.com</a> is association with <a href="https://www.rewardme.in/tag/ArielShareTheLoad">Ariel India</a>' in your blog post.
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<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F4.bp.blogspot.com%2F-UlrE8b0ea0E%2FVR4KI0iP3dI%2FAAAAAAAAHEE%2FxOk_y3r_EBc%2Fs1600%2FIMG_20150403_082854.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArKZr-7IP31Nk3r7tus3dnJ_Y4usy8w4elbhBy2OQ2dLd8S9c3oIU4vkiddKczveSn41mjpOHUlqLjLCIOZRx0J5o6i4hvEKB6ZxJDDV4tDftC6To6Y2UUVLlXMCj5PXUiCk85IWbR0iQ/s1600/IMG_20150403_082854.jpg" -->Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-22458268713702005012015-03-01T18:08:00.001-08:002015-03-01T18:13:34.731-08:00Ramayana - The Game of Life - Book Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>Book: </b>Ramayana – The Game of Life</div>
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<b>Author: </b>Shubha Vilas</div>
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<b>Number of Pages: </b>387</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA1j42YXEWuHC5mXiGHaj9IE3N0lMDkUb5s0Avwp0yzGkgvJxZd78st9FEtBoUqi1qOOOy0Pwpe4w1Wo2eY7fA9R-03w7yNXnn1QPSmn6fVrmaopLN0PVIIuxHKJ2nk-qLh1HlCg1YOOBf/s1600/Ramayana+-+The+Game+of+Life.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA1j42YXEWuHC5mXiGHaj9IE3N0lMDkUb5s0Avwp0yzGkgvJxZd78st9FEtBoUqi1qOOOy0Pwpe4w1Wo2eY7fA9R-03w7yNXnn1QPSmn6fVrmaopLN0PVIIuxHKJ2nk-qLh1HlCg1YOOBf/s1600/Ramayana+-+The+Game+of+Life.JPG" height="320" width="203" /></a>‘Ramayana –
The Game of Life’ is the latest book by Shubha Vilas. This is his second book
in the Ramayana Series and a sequel to ‘Rise of the Sun Prince’. It is really fascinating to see how authors in
the modern day are writing on ancient ithihasas like Ramayana and Mahabharata.
With Shubha Vilas’s first book being a best seller and getting lots of positive
reviews, I was keen on reading this sequel. Reading this book has been a different
experience from reading other books. Although it gets a bit preachy at time,
the connections that are made with the story and the learning based on the
various instances in the story is pretty interesting. </div>
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Shubha Vilas book ‘Ramayana – The Game of Life’
– Shattered Dreams is based on Rama’s exile. The story starts with King Dasaratha
decides to step down and crown Rama as the ruler of Ayodhya. This is when the
boon that Dasaratha gives Keikeyi in the past comes into the picture. Keikeyi
asks for 2 boons and insists on her son Bharata being crowned the King of
Ayodhya instead of Rama and Rama being sent to exile for 14 years. The rest of the story talks about how Rama and
Sita react to this setback positively and head for the exile. </div>
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Having read
the entire Ramayana story in 250-300 pages or through Amar Chitra Katha comics,
reading this book has been completely different experience. With close to 400
pages being dedicated to this story, the author presents the thinking and the emotions
behind each of the decisions that happened during the course of this story. This
detail also helps in showing the shades of each character (which is what
happens in real life) instead of showing them in black and white.</div>
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The story
also explores various other smaller stories connected to the main one. There is
this part which explains how Dasaratha gives boons to Keikeyi and also on how Dasagriva
transforms to Ravana. I never had a chance to read any of these in such detail.</div>
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There is
analysis in boxes at various points in the story which conveys the larger
message to the world to be learnt from the story. In addition to this, there
are notes presented in that bottom of each page that present aspects to learn and understand from the story and this is where Shubha Vilas
shows how there is so much to learn from Ramayana. These notes present the hidden text and implicit
meaning in some of statements that are made by the characters in the story. As
someone who writes, I thought this was also a lesson in writing knowing what to
reveal and what to convey through the hidden meaning while crafting a story. </div>
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It is
fascinating to read how modern day authors write on an ancient ithihasas like
Ramayana. I enjoyed reading this book and I am now looking to get a different
perspective on the same story. I intend to get started on Ashok Banker’s Series
of Ramayana which I believe will explore Ramayana in a very different way and
present a new perspective. </div>
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This review is a part of the biggest <a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews" target="_blank"> Book Review Program </a> for <a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" target="_blank">Indian Bloggers.</a> Participate now to get free books!</div>
</div>
Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-22675583284518096972014-10-23T10:14:00.002-07:002014-10-23T10:22:55.800-07:00God is a Gamer– Book Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><b>Book: </b>God is a Gamer</b></div>
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<b>Author: </b>Ravi Subramanian</div>
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<b>Number of Pages: </b>310</div>
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‘God is a gamer’ is a book by Ravi Subramanian, who is one among
the new generation of Indian authors. Ravi
Subramanian is a banker by profession and has written popular thrillers that
are based in the banking world. I enjoyed reading his book ‘Bankster’ a couple
of years ago and was really excited to read ‘God is a Gamer’ which has been
marketed as the world’s first novel on Bitcoins.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBcsp8JCOMDDNa-l72pPGM035wtLqOEXVzdeeGKY3HVozDlyZ8GJY0zAYhH5u2g8mjkX0mbiMOAf2iOhVK_Id_saJbjxa6pngkMhGhwSZGTK5fRIDSszXPQxENz8rBvtUwIFeavEQRFGO/s1600/God+is+a+Gamer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBcsp8JCOMDDNa-l72pPGM035wtLqOEXVzdeeGKY3HVozDlyZ8GJY0zAYhH5u2g8mjkX0mbiMOAf2iOhVK_Id_saJbjxa6pngkMhGhwSZGTK5fRIDSszXPQxENz8rBvtUwIFeavEQRFGO/s1600/God+is+a+Gamer.jpg" height="320" width="208" /></a>The story starts with the assassination of a politician in
USA. This is immediately followed by a
Phishing scam where the customers of a reputed International bank in India start
losing money. Consequently, the company that manages the card operations for
the bank is also in trouble. Back in the US, 5 million dollars are stolen in 2
days from 520 ATMs in New York in an ATM heist. Meanwhile in India, a powerful
woman who is the ex-CEO of the bank is murdered. In the midst of all this, there is a love story
and some snippets on the personal lives of all the characters involved.</div>
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Ravi Subramanian does a great job connecting all these
various sub-plots in the story through the different characters. The story also moves at a quick pace with the
scenes shifting from US to India and vice-versa across the different chapters.
This is precisely the reason why the book is unputdownable and can be finished
in 1-3 readings. Coming from the banking industry, Ravi also explains the
technical details of the banking industry in a language that is understood by a
layman.</div>
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The best part of the story is the fact it is based on the
latest happenings in the technology, internet, social media space like
Bitcoins, Facebook, Gaming Apps etc. This gives a very real world connect to
the book. The fictional part is brilliantly integrated into all these things.
This is where Ravi Subramanian hits the bull’s eye. I mean which youngster
wouldn’t be interested when you talk of Facebook, Zynga and Gaming apps and
then add the murder/heist/thriller layer on top it. </div>
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The other aspect of the movie is that there is no clear protagonist
who calls the shots and drives the story. This makes the plot interesting which
is very essential for a thriller. I wish Bollywood take a look at this book and
have someone direct a movie based on it. </div>
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The only flip side of the book I thought was the ending. It
is s a bit of let down which gets a tad predictable. I would have preferred the
last 10 pages to be something else. But perhaps it is the element in these 10
pages which make the movie ideal for a Bollywood potboiler – Revenge!</div>
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On the whole, it’s a very good read. It is also interesting
to read books that are based on an industry (Banking in this case) rather on
mere personal lives or love stories. Kudos
to Ravi Subramanian for doing that on a consistent basis through his books
based on Banking. This is a must read for the Ravi Subramanian fans and a
decent read for the rest.</div>
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</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This review is a part of the biggest <a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews" target="_blank"> Book Review Program </a> for <a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" target="_blank">Indian Bloggers.</a> Participate now to get free books!
</div>
</div>
Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-23890117035155141042014-09-15T08:19:00.001-07:002014-09-17T00:49:17.484-07:00Missing ( Part 4)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://notallmoonshine.blogspot.in/2014/09/missing-chapter-1.html">Part 1</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.gyanban.com/2014/09/missing-2.html">Part 2</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://anupriyamishra.com/2014/09/14/missing-part-iii/">Part 3</a></div>
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<b>Team of Writers </b>- Tete-a-Ten</div>
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<b>Kalvani Bakery, Juhu,
Mumbai – 20:00<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Cyrus Daruwalla was lost in his thoughts sitting outside the
Kalvani Bakery in Juhu. With a beard on
his chin, extremely fair complexion, thick framed specs and loose Kurtas he
looked like a script writer looking for ideas for his new movie. Cyrus however was
a law student from Delhi. He had come to Mumbai for his friend’s wedding.</div>
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<br /></div>
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He didn’t like the Mumbai weather. He preferred the Delhi
heat over this humidity which really drove him crazy. He had decided years ago
that he would avoid visiting the city in the future. But then he had to be
there that day.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It wasn’t his friend’s wedding. He had a bigger, more important
reason to be in Mumbai that day. None of his friends knew about it. He didn’t
want to tell anyone since it wouldn’t help his cause. It was time for him to
handle it all by himself. He was quite worried about it. He knew this would his
last chance. It was Now or Never for him.
He didn’t know whether this was the right thing to do at this point of
time, but he really had no option. </div>
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<br /></div>
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“Cool down! Cyrus! It will be fine. You will get it
right. This shouldn’t be a problem for a
six feet hunk like you”, he told himself.
</div>
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<br /></div>
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Cyrus got up and started walking towards the ice-cream
trolley that was parked at the corner of the lane. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Once he was near it, he reached for
his wallet and asked for a Chocolate ice-cream cone. He gave the cone to the nine year old girl
who was with him.</div>
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<br /></div>
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A visiting card had slipped out and floated to the ground when Cyrus opened his wallet. It lay there behind a discarded ice-cream cup.<br />
<br />
There was something handwritten on the other side of the
visiting card.<br />
It read <b>‘Mission Roohi – Do it Today<sup> </sup>’</b>.</div>
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<b>Ramada Hotel, Juhu, Mumbai – 20:15 </b></div>
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<br /></div>
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Meanwhile, the picture that she clicked disturbed Jennifer
very much. What was the tall guy planning?
Was there some kind of drug in the ice-cream that Roohi was having? The
tall guy with curly hair was like the cool dude you see in the movies and ads.
But then that was no reason to believe that he had noble intentions and that he
wouldn't harm the girl.</div>
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She wondered if the tall guy was
Roohi’s relative or a family friend. But if he was, her parents would
immediately contact him. So Roohi’s parents definitely didn’t know this
guy. She closely examined the photo again.There was no trace of fear on Roohi’s face. A kid would only be happy when a stranger
offered her an ice-cream. May be the
tall guy was trying to keep her happy so that she didn’t create a nuisance
before he took her away to a lonely spot.</div>
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<br /></div>
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May be the tall guy wasn’t
alone. May be he was just assisting someone kidnap the girl. Given his good
looks, he might have been hired by some goons to kidnap the girl and hand her
over to them. Jennifer’s mind was jammed with all these thoughts when she
realized that was losing time by pondering about all this. She had to reach
Roohi’s parents. </div>
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<br /></div>
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She
immediately opened the Facebook page, saw the number in the post and tried
calling Tara. Out of coverage area was the response that she had got. She
immediately tried messaging Tara on Facebook but couldn’t as she wasn’t her
friend. She sent a friend request. She felt that it wasn’t a good idea to post
the information that she had on a public forum.</div>
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<b>The Dutta’s
Residence, Mumbai 20:00</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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Tara was quite irritated with the responses that she got on
Facebook. She was looking for information out there and not sympathy messages. She
wondered how she reacted when she saw such messages. She would always dismiss
them as useless content that spammed her wall. She now prayed that others don't do that with her post and instead gave her some information about her missing daughter. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Shekhar was calm thinking of the various places where his
daughter could go. He had taught Roohi to assess strangers and watch out for certain signs. More importantly, he had taught her to trust her instincts. May be a child's instincts could be swayed. Could this have acted against her right now? He hoped and prayed that she would have the presence of mind to cry out and and alert passersby if she really was kidnapped. He closed his eyes and told himself that worrying about Roohi wouldn’t help him or Tara. He was going to stay positive and find a way out. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were a few messages where the people who claimed to
have seen a girl but ended up providing irrelevant information when she called
them. Tara noticed a new comment that provided some irrelevant information. This
really irked Tara. </div>
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<br /></div>
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“Facebook is bull shit. How can someone from Bangalore
contact us without even reading the complete information that Roohi is lost
in Mumbai? “ she shouted at Shekhar.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Tara, we don’t have a choice. Do we? We cannot ignore any message
just because we got 10 irrelevant calls. There might be someone who might actually
spot Roohi and contact us” said Shekhar trying to pacify Tara and making sure
that they left no stone unturned to find Roohi. </div>
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<br /></div>
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“I don’t think so. We are in a panic mode out here and this
seems to be some kind of entertainment to all these fools on Facebook," replied Tara switching off her mobile data connection that was draining her
battery.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.thekeybunch.com/2014/09/collaborative-fiction-missing.html#.VBkqXpSSyVF">Read the next part of 'Missing' here</a>.</div>
<br />
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<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-indent: -10px;">Me and my team are participating in ‘<a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2014/09/11/game-of-blogs-celebrate-blogging-india" style="color: #0066cc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank" title="Game of Blogs">Game Of Blogs</a>’ at </i><a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #0066cc; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-decoration: none; text-indent: -10px;"><i>BlogAdda.com</i></a><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; text-indent: -10px;">. #CelebrateBlogging with us.</i></div>
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Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-7901956365249510652014-08-25T00:45:00.002-07:002014-08-25T00:52:05.825-07:00Private India - Book Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>Book: </b>Private India</div>
</div>
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<b>Author: </b>Ashwin Sanghi & James
Patterson</div>
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<b>Number of Pages: </b>470</div>
</div>
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<b>Private
India</b> is the latest book by <b>Ashwin Sanghi</b>. He joins hands with <b>James Patterson</b>, a well known international author in his latest book. I was looking forward to read this book having
thoroughly enjoyed reading Ashwin Sanghi’s earlier book - ‘Chanakya’s Chant’. After
having completed reading the book, I have to say that the book is a good read.</div>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZI1CODQ8yWPE03Wkcm0DzpJB5NQXJUMIpaQLYtUETrNjNpDiBEnvQvNVyW8Erzh-dHZIyyM9mEmTiff2WGeaqsvFvTGTXqB6M_9p5TU9GWLthcE0g5D6fCs-RLIhE9t8FPtSYKZSzd9iN/s1600/private-india-book+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZI1CODQ8yWPE03Wkcm0DzpJB5NQXJUMIpaQLYtUETrNjNpDiBEnvQvNVyW8Erzh-dHZIyyM9mEmTiff2WGeaqsvFvTGTXqB6M_9p5TU9GWLthcE0g5D6fCs-RLIhE9t8FPtSYKZSzd9iN/s1600/private-india-book+cover.jpg" height="320" width="208" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
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<b>Private
India</b> is about a series of seemingly unrelated murders that happen in
Mumbai. Private India is the
international investigation agency that takes up the assignment of tracing the
criminal responsible for these murders. Lead by Santosh Wagh, the head of
Private India, the team earnestly goes about the investigation process to
discover that that there is a bigger danger that is about to hit them. How the
team manages to foil the antagonist’s attempts to do this takes us to the end
of this interesting case.</div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
The story is
narrated at a fast pace with backgrounds of different characters in the story
being unveiled at different junctures. Each of these personal backgrounds is connected
to the main plot to establish why a particular character is behaving in a
particular manner. It is interesting to note that each of the characters is
portrayed in grey as it happens in real life rather in absolute black and
white.</div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
At one point
in the novel, the criminal’s rational for killing the victim’s bear some
resemblance with the <b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_(1995_film)">1995 David Fincher American thriller film ‘Seven</a></b>’. However
as one goes further in the story, it is revealed that the killer’s motive are personal
unlike the killer in Seven who kills his victims based on the seven deadly
sins. </div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
With the
setting in Mumbai, the story is quite Indian and at times
Bollywood like in terms of ending and storytelling. The story sticks to the
Bollywood style of holding terrorist organizations in Pakistan responsible for creating
panic in India. In a way it is apt that the characters especially the
antagonist in the story motivated by personal vengeance like in a Bollywood
movie. May be the ending could have been
different instead of the protagonist bashing all the goons and doing the rescue
act like we have witnessed in a zillion regional/Bollywood movies before. </div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
I was
slightly disappointed with the book having read Ashwin Sanghi’s <b>‘Chanakya’s Chant’</b>
where the Indian cultural/historical angle in the story was weaved quite well. In this book, there are times where the cultural
connect with Goddess Durga to each of the murders appearing out of place in the
given context. Also one is left to wonder if the there is a foreign guy in the
story just because there is a foreign author working on the story. Is there
really a need for one in the plot? The story could have adopted a more Indian
approach or a completely global approach. </div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The book however does a decent job in
terms of holding the reader’s interest, the book . I enjoyed reading it and it kept me engrossed all through. You might want to grab a copy of it if you are
interested in thrillers and murder mysteries.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This review is a part of the biggest <a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews" target="_blank"> Book Review Program </a> for <a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" target="_blank">Indian Bloggers.</a> Participate now to get free books!
</div>
</div>
Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-65463327432470145942014-07-28T06:15:00.002-07:002014-07-28T06:24:08.908-07:00The Deliberate Sinner - Book review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><u>The Deliberate
Sinner – Book Review<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
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<b>Book:
</b>The Deliberate Sinner<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Author: </b>Bhaavna Arora<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Number of Pages: </b>148</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_rJeWHlBgs7Rhpu9624qA3rs-9uTkBLM3afOD-5UMlrZi-ZSvSB1qPmPx6vKTKZGAM0T0rokvd7DuG2pIom_-z2KMDa6I7p9hjOYkOW5PXrtYeP7IKTUzl-mX5z8yd-NxB4wqNozdGUW/s1600/The+Deliberate+Sinner+-Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_rJeWHlBgs7Rhpu9624qA3rs-9uTkBLM3afOD-5UMlrZi-ZSvSB1qPmPx6vKTKZGAM0T0rokvd7DuG2pIom_-z2KMDa6I7p9hjOYkOW5PXrtYeP7IKTUzl-mX5z8yd-NxB4wqNozdGUW/s1600/The+Deliberate+Sinner+-Image.jpg" height="320" width="204" /></a>The
Deliberate Sinner is the story of Rihana, an adventurous and free spirited girl
who marries Veer, an eligible bachelor from a wealthy family. Almost
immediately after accepting Veer’s proposal, Rihana starts fearing that Veer
and she are very different individuals whose needs and priorities in life
are strikingly dissimilar. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Bowing to
the family and societal pressures, she goes ahead and marries Veer. However,
she soon finds the going tough with Veer after marriage and realizes that he is
insensitive to her physical and emotional needs. Unable to find any happiness
in her marriage, Rihana now decides to walk out of her marriage and divorce Veer.
How she manages to find freedom fighting the pressure from her family
and society and ends up being <b>The Deliberate Sinner</b> forms the rest of the
story.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The book is
an easy read like most of the books by the new generation Indian writers. Although,
the modern Indian woman is changing with times, she still has to mold her life
according to what her family or her husband decides. The author Bhaavna Arora
connects to the modern Indian woman by placing her protagonist Rihana in
exactly the same situation – where she wants to live a life of her choice but
is burdened by the worries of her mother and demands of her husband.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The author
is successful in terms of expressing the conflict that Rihana goes through
trying to be the good traditional married wife and still fulfilling her physical and
emotional needs. Thankfully, Rihana chooses what is important for her rather
than sticking with her husband and doing what her family and society wanted her
to do.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
As a reader,
I found it surprising that a rich, adventurous and a free spirited girl like
Rihana turned very accommodating and adjusting by nature once she got
married. When I pondered over it, I felt
that the same thing happens in the outside world in our country where a girl
who lives the life of princess before marriage is often forced to conform to
the norms of the society and the requirements of her husband and family. The
author does a good job conveying this message through her story.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was not
too sure if the book should have been titled ‘The Deliberate Sinner’. In order to find her freedom keeping her family and mother happy, Rihana ends up planning an escape route and call herself the ‘Deliberate
Sinner’. What Rihana did was the best
thing to get out of the mess she is in and this act can’t be a sin. At least,
she shouldn't be calling it a sin. There would have been some guilt when Rihana
did what she did to be a free bird, but calling herself a Sinner even a
deliberate the book ends on a negative
note. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The fact
that book is titled with the same name puts the protagonist in a more negative
shade than what she deserves. May be this is why the author has a message on
the first page which says ‘<b>Hate the Sin
Not the Sinner</b>’. Unfortunately, this is the feeling of guilt that an Indian
woman has to go through in such a situation and maybe that’s the reason for the
title.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
</div>
This review is a part of the biggest <a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews" target="_blank"> Book Review Program </a> for <a href="http://www.blogadda.com/" target="_blank">Indian Bloggers.</a> Participate now to get free books!</div>
Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-68961964710155216442012-01-29T19:25:00.000-08:002012-02-01T10:25:10.067-08:00Shrutified<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I was near my bike. I was angry and irritated with Shruti. She was supposed to say sorry to me. She didn’t call me since the 3-4 days thanks to the stupid Out Bound Learning Programme (OBL) for her team. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I expressed my displeasure to her and I got it back from her. <b><i>You –do- not- understand-how-busy-I-am</i></b> and all that stuff. I was waiting for a sorry from her and now she shouted at me and made me feel so guilty that I was wondering if I should tell her sorry. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">My damn bike also seemed to be in that kind of a mood. It wasn’t starting. I wondered why. After a minute of repeatedly kicking the kick rod with all my energy, I realized that I didn’t switch on the engine.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisa65xY_xrZlg8NZaBS0sD3lZKf7Zc65dJV5VekOOKsGHR5hZ-6HZNzvqiWBAuHup0fWyA-_OjeFgWBS2WVDYhH0MpFH5bOSDleWPBV2pW52MIu8nshv_WGVjHg9eEs8ljDHnK46S3it0o/s1600/Shrutified.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisa65xY_xrZlg8NZaBS0sD3lZKf7Zc65dJV5VekOOKsGHR5hZ-6HZNzvqiWBAuHup0fWyA-_OjeFgWBS2WVDYhH0MpFH5bOSDleWPBV2pW52MIu8nshv_WGVjHg9eEs8ljDHnK46S3it0o/s400/Shrutified.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
This normally would have invited a tap on the head from Shruti. A sheepish grin on my face would follow. Now that she decided not to come with me, there was no grin.<br />
<br />
Instead only 4 letter words were to be heard #&%*. My bike surely would abandon me and run away if it was human.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I drove for less than 1 km before a red signal stopped me. The bike was on neutral gear but I was accelerating it so much that the uncle on the Honda Activa next to me gave me a hard stare. I gave back a<b><i> cold – I- don’t- care look.</i></b><br />
<br />
The green signal ended the battle of stares and I saw the uncle grumbling. May be he was lamenting about me and the present day generation to his wife in the pillion seat.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">It was all the rage on Shruti in my mind as I was driving. I was driving faster and without a care for anyone around me. There were lots of buses on the road and the traffic was moving slowly. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
There were 2 buses in front of me very close to each other. Initially these were like 2 parallel lines with space between them but then they came so close that they almost seemed to intersect. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
The passengers in one of the buses was spitting on the road between the two buses. <b>“What an idiot”</b>, I thought. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
Less than a minute later I found myself to be bigger idiot as my bike stood right next to his seat in the bus. I didn’t know how I managed to get between the buses and the distance between them was getting too close for me. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">At one instant, I found the buses aligned in such a manner that there was no space for me to move. I stopped my bike and was trying to get it out of the mess moving front or back. But I wasn’t able to.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFb4FHA0YeIkmUVgDEcNJiDWpCZtow39q2xJCFvlplo7mNKUvz_rumUFDoMF0L3Wz69mmtBFB12Y-vF1PZnm4GYgYi26NCd5XBuRbLdU66CG9NlSXz5qELjqxMDtMx7pkdZy0eFoGYlGcs/s1600/S-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFb4FHA0YeIkmUVgDEcNJiDWpCZtow39q2xJCFvlplo7mNKUvz_rumUFDoMF0L3Wz69mmtBFB12Y-vF1PZnm4GYgYi26NCd5XBuRbLdU66CG9NlSXz5qELjqxMDtMx7pkdZy0eFoGYlGcs/s320/S-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<b>Damn Shruti!</b> I was so lost about our fight that my brain wasn’t coordinating my driving. I could hear a lot of voices of the people in the bus damning me and this included the idiot who spit on the road earlier.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
They asked me to stay still in the same position so that one of the buses would move. Finally I was out the mess with around 20-30 people staring at me. But still I couldn’t care less.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">How could Shruti do this to me? I never understand when she claims to be busy. Couldn’t she call me up once and talk to me for 5-10 minutes?<br />
<br />
It was always I who called and she would talk for less than a minute or two with me. I guess she doesn’t care for me now.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
I was also worried about the morons in her team. They didn’t seem to have any other work except getting her involved in every small issue.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
I mean the earth wouldn’t stop rotating if Shruti was not in a meeting. They were all planning for the corporate 10km run this weekend.<br />
<br />
I took a right near a crossroads that did not have any signals. For a moment, I saw all the morons in Shruti’s team running across the road in the same direction that I was driving .<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
I wondered why? Was this the preparation for the marathon? Were they trying to impress Shruti?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEjnzchCMko_tqSSZxN8eMqXHe19buRdkWT3nkH32janVpRcM63fGhreNP0Ir834S2jzZ08yuwt1_XYWlWepexBKYcuhl4WpL5IlbI-Gx3Z0pYWtfCCLqjbMQ6F2YuklMFbMeDV37QU_F/s1600/S-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEjnzchCMko_tqSSZxN8eMqXHe19buRdkWT3nkH32janVpRcM63fGhreNP0Ir834S2jzZ08yuwt1_XYWlWepexBKYcuhl4WpL5IlbI-Gx3Z0pYWtfCCLqjbMQ6F2YuklMFbMeDV37QU_F/s320/S-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
HONK! There was a bus coming from the other direction honking its soul out. I was right in front of the bus. I realized I was the only vehicle trying to cross the road. I accelerated and moved ahead to give way to the bus. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
The morons who were crossing the road were regular people and not Shruti’s team mates. With me in the HATE Shruti mood, everything around seemed to be someone related to her. Ha… What a day! </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Two stunts from me on the road and I was still halfway away from home. May be I shouldn’t drive whenever we fight. Perhaps the government should have a DON’T FIGHT & DRIVE rule for guys. And they shouldn’t let girls drive at all. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I wondered what Shruti would be doing that moment? Would she be cursing me like the way I was cursing her? I preferred that to Shruti not thinking about me at all. How could she even do that? </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">May be one of her project managers offered to drop her home. There was not one project manager who would do it for me. At some distance I saw Shruti getting out of a car. That looked like her Project manager’s car.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdL5sHZJSP2c9ADqXgMrCoiSVpok48T3yaZLjeZlJMH4nfSkR_XQIKd4M9abaX5uJQRgaqUXsUtSMvFr92koQZ0D1IHG6_OduzrgQfqhPqrxwyDJ9Odl3yaAocruoEronmArE1SCL72Kok/s1600/S-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdL5sHZJSP2c9ADqXgMrCoiSVpok48T3yaZLjeZlJMH4nfSkR_XQIKd4M9abaX5uJQRgaqUXsUtSMvFr92koQZ0D1IHG6_OduzrgQfqhPqrxwyDJ9Odl3yaAocruoEronmArE1SCL72Kok/s320/S-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Was I lost again? Everyone on the road seemed to be like Shruti and her team. But then I suddenly realized that I wasn’t getting my driving right.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
I was racing towards her Project manager’s car and I was too close. I wasn’t sure if that was her PM or not but I was sure about racing towards the car.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I turned to move towards the right. As luck would have it, the driver opened the door of the car and I banged into it. Luckily the driver moved inside seeing me and my bike racing.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>After 3 years</b> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
It has been quite some time since the traffic incident happened. I was lucky that day and escaped that day with some bruises and cuts. It was Shruti that day and the poor driver was indeed her Project manager. After more such fights and peace attempts , we got married a year and a half ago. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">My traffic adventure that day thanks to the Shrutified effect on my brain that day was a major point on my CV that was presented to her parents.<br />
<br />
There were a many aunts pinching my cheeks hard and red teasing me that Shruti is always on my mind. Shruti had the blushiest blush whenever anyone asked her about the incident. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Shrutified </b>was now a common term among my friends and relatives. When someone said a guy is <b>Shrutified</b>, it meant that the guy was so hopelessly in love with a girl that she was always on his mind- especially in the traffic.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Things have changed a bit after marriage. We have had a big fight 3 days ago. We work at the same work place and I drive her by car to office everyday.<br />
<br />
The drive to office hasn’t been a pleasant one since 3 days considering the fact that is one time when Shruti finds me listening to her sitting at one place.<br />
<br />
This is what happened today morning.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><i><b>Shruti:</b> </i>You no longer love me the way you did before marriage.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><i><b>Me:</b> </i>Of course, I do love you. What makes you think so.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><i><b>Shruti:</b> </i>Do you remember the traffic incident?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><i><b>Me:</b></i> Of course, how can I forget that? Silly you. I was Shrutified.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><i><b>Shruti:</b> </i>That day you were so concerned about me and thinking about me, that you were lost in the traffic. I have been yelling at you since the last 3 days in the car and I see no effect on you whatsoever. You don’t love me anymore.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I stopped my car as we reached our workplace.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
Shruti looked irritated perhaps by the fact that I was able to drive and stop as I do it daily without the slightest hint that would reflect my reaction.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>“Go to hell”</b>, said Shruti and stepped out of my car.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I was surprised too. My mind was now able to put Shruti and driving in separate compartments. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Did I not care for her? Of course I did. Of course I loved her as much as I did then. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Perhaps it was the adrenalin and the youthful zest that made me react that way back then. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I guess I am now more experienced with the whole girl err woman err Shruti thing and immune to her bad moods. <br />
<br />
Of course I can't ram my car into a truck every other day just because we fought at home. You know luck might not be on my side always.<br />
<br />
I now understand what people mean when they say a marriage will bring stability to a man’s life. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I can’t quite remember the last time I was totally Shrutified. But I definitely had to come up with a reasonable explanation to Shruti today evening. If not, I was sure to be crucified.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">May be I should just tell her that traffic in Hyderabad has improved dramatically since the last 3 years!</div></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-17113809609711639882011-09-20T11:52:00.000-07:002011-09-20T11:54:11.234-07:00What do we do online?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsjFYCxgXGjMQa-Ya-LOhN8L5cfIycvGC7NL7MXZbDgMRyMER1cqBOk0HIEDQzrn11J0OVK8Yd_2I_N2-b5uMolJ1pe5I1tT-MtMYcBa2whCrD7NVwDk4vyU1s4kpmj4fnXt85g9uTiLv/s1600/What+do+we+do+Online.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHsjFYCxgXGjMQa-Ya-LOhN8L5cfIycvGC7NL7MXZbDgMRyMER1cqBOk0HIEDQzrn11J0OVK8Yd_2I_N2-b5uMolJ1pe5I1tT-MtMYcBa2whCrD7NVwDk4vyU1s4kpmj4fnXt85g9uTiLv/s400/What+do+we+do+Online.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
</div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-65204455584954625502011-09-15T11:15:00.000-07:002011-09-16T02:08:15.676-07:00The effect of SMS limit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-eNAGdrpqH8zScggv1ovGrJ1AzPCJ5Frh_8JNNg-gXTz9RysG206OxA6UPhw37q7P0g3_PcktW0fRzZPs7A1oltHV5Fdk2yzDOEQIbPm39bRJmZ9uloGYuOvPYCDmFvXiMor5dE0tOmP/s1600/SMS+limit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-eNAGdrpqH8zScggv1ovGrJ1AzPCJ5Frh_8JNNg-gXTz9RysG206OxA6UPhw37q7P0g3_PcktW0fRzZPs7A1oltHV5Fdk2yzDOEQIbPm39bRJmZ9uloGYuOvPYCDmFvXiMor5dE0tOmP/s400/SMS+limit.JPG" width="353" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> <b style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The Big Picture</b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> - TRAI (The Telecom Regulatory Authority of India) has limited the message service to just<a href="http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/article2454399.ece"> 100 per day</a> to the normal customers. </span></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-22049977169351122142011-08-01T09:34:00.000-07:002011-08-01T10:39:51.197-07:00The antidote to Dark Circles<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6jxHNodDe-a8SJRiYQSodKJAPCKTkXKPS8lKwGo6FzqkLno3YcUq2KnDCfO6Y5Tce1lDQkOwm7phLTB79n7GrtiCkp3tpP2gRAMb_OsQmjYIlewPLNEaFRnz_ThINDXcB59PK3jIhcj0/s1600/The+antidote+to+Dark+circles+-+new.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6jxHNodDe-a8SJRiYQSodKJAPCKTkXKPS8lKwGo6FzqkLno3YcUq2KnDCfO6Y5Tce1lDQkOwm7phLTB79n7GrtiCkp3tpP2gRAMb_OsQmjYIlewPLNEaFRnz_ThINDXcB59PK3jIhcj0/s400/The+antidote+to+Dark+circles+-+new.JPG" width="353" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Find the first Dark circles comic<a href="http://ummwowhuh.blogspot.com/2010/09/dark-circles.html"> here</a></div></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-34681745694200193762011-07-27T01:43:00.000-07:002011-08-01T10:44:32.593-07:00The Spectacles<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">"How do you think I will look with specs?” I asked Kumar.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">"You mean eye glasses? But why do you want specs at all? Be thankful that you have good sight", Kumar replied.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">“I want to see myself sporting eye glasses with a golden frame ", I said with a glee on my face.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">"You are crazy. You keep living in your own fantasies", Kumar said with a resigned look.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">This was 11 years ago in the English class in the first year of engineering. Eye glasses always fascinated me because of the new look that one could sport with them. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Even as a kid, I remember trying to draw faces with a pencil. I was no great artist. So when the face went wrong and had a horrible look, I would try adding specs to the face. For me, a bespectacled face was somehow always better than the one without one. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">College was over. Job happened. Over the years , being surrounded by so many of my friends and colleagues with specs, I somehow stopped imagining myself sporting one. Life without a pair of glasses seemed cool enough.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">However last week, I visited an eye specialist and I found myself reading those sequences of letters UQmuS KpDUW from a distance. On a couple of occasions, I did have a problem reading them. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I went to the doctor as my eyes were turning red at the slightest exposure to dust since the last few days. The doctor told me that I would be better off wearing specs while driving as my eyes were ultra sensitive to dust. Of course it was up to me to decide if I wanted to use them for things other than driving.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Specs? Did I hear it right? Oh yeah… so finally the time had come. And I didn't want to buy those in some neighbouring mom and pop store. I had to brood, research, contemplate and decide on the specs and the kind of look that it would give me. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I went to buy the eye glasses a couple of days later and my Dad was along with me.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
I examined quite a few of them and decided that I wouldn't be spending too much. Finally the choice was between rimless and full-rimmed with my Dad pushing for rimless and me opting for the later.<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqzkqHxrSH5nd5b5sQc3wddPbDfr1Vf0kaPF7D1FqXksfrEKYfuBF2sx2g5flhr8yNBrzClBz215A60mgxQ2zC1UJVRabI2zfMwmP_4pOyZtEkE-gOx90NipvvQc3jG1h3fWBop00zP82s/s1600/rims.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqzkqHxrSH5nd5b5sQc3wddPbDfr1Vf0kaPF7D1FqXksfrEKYfuBF2sx2g5flhr8yNBrzClBz215A60mgxQ2zC1UJVRabI2zfMwmP_4pOyZtEkE-gOx90NipvvQc3jG1h3fWBop00zP82s/s400/rims.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Dad:</b> Take this rimless one, it looks elegant. From a distance, it doesn't even look like you are wearing specs.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me:</b> That's the whole point. I want my specs to be visible and make a statement. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Dad:</b> You don't look good with those full rimed ones.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Me: I want the de-glamorized retro look. I don't want to appear too urbane and stylish.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">At this juncture, the salesman in the store decided to intervene.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
<b>Salesman: </b>Excuse me! The full rimed ones are the stylish ones. These are the ones worn by art directors and ad agency guys these days. The rimless ones are the basic simple stuff.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Did I hear the words ‘Art’ and ‘Ad agency’? That was enough for me to go ahead with the full-rimed ones.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I reached home sporting the new look and stood in front of my mom.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Mom: </b>But aren't these frames pretty old fashioned. I have seen my brother using it when he was about your age.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Dad: </b>Hahaha! Your old fashioned mom calls your frames old fashioned. Go to the caves, kid!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me:</b> Grrrr!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Were the specs really so old fashioned? I went and stood in front of the full size mirror. Umm… I was ok. But it certainly didn’t appear as cool as I thought I would. Did I get it wrong again? I was lost in deep thought for a couple of minutes.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I was suddenly looking different in the mirror. It was me but I was looking more confident and very assured. There was also some kind of a glow and radiance surrounding me. I was looking perfect. If you asked me how I wanted to look and feel, the answer was staring in front of me in the mirror.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>The Other me:</b> What are you staring at?</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me: </b>Nothing. You look so much like me. But you are perfect like a dream.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>The Other me:</b> Dumbo. Of course I will be like you. I am your conscience.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">‘<b>The Other me</b>’ is too long a name. Let’s call him<b> Tom</b> - the abbreviation for <b>The Other me</b>.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me:</b> Oh… no wonder you look so much like me. Anyway don’t you think I look cool with these spectacles on?</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Tom:</b> Cool? You broke up with the word cool the time you quit IT. And now these old fashioned specs!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me:</b> Even you? Are these really old fashioned?</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Tom: </b>Of course. Your mom was spot on. Rimless would have given you the look. But as ever you missed the trick and decided to go Old.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me:</b> Hmpf! I am tired of the word ‘Old’.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Tom:</b> Lol! You don’t help your cause. Do you? Your hair cut is designed to announce your receding hairline. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me: </b>This new hair cut is to complement my new bespectacled look.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Tom:</b> Why the funny spectacles? And why the funnier haircut? </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me:</b> This is not funny.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Tom: </b>Remember one thing. You are what you are. Specs/Spectacles improve the visibility of your eyes. They don’t make you spectacular.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me: </b>But I thought the new girl might like this look.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Tom: </b>I will tell you what. With these specs, you have lost whatever little chance of finding a girl. Your life is over</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me: </b>Grrr! I hate you. I am off now. I got to blog</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Tom: </b>Blog? <a href="http://ummwowhuh.blogspot.com/2011/05/idea-of-jalsa.html">Jalsa</a>? Listen to me and stop writing <a href="http://ummwowhuh.blogspot.com/2011/05/idea-of-jalsa.html">Jalsa</a>. It no longer suits you. Play your age.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I moved away from the mirror. Tom disappeared. I sat down to write a new <a href="http://ummwowhuh.blogspot.com/2011/05/idea-of-jalsa.html">Jalsa</a> story. But this is what I managed to write. Was Tom right? Hmpf!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tV2OGCLsFMjD6MJUdveZsIXt86xphYnUiH_Bc1aIYiCLUHAkOfG8iv8h-LiKZ4pHp7dqNaMFySgGgxXY_BOWD1kpIEQoSoxT_ny0loasVzo4uANsJ2SWGbdQb79MnueYHvDSYtv-dGY7/s1600/Picture+005_Charcoal_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tV2OGCLsFMjD6MJUdveZsIXt86xphYnUiH_Bc1aIYiCLUHAkOfG8iv8h-LiKZ4pHp7dqNaMFySgGgxXY_BOWD1kpIEQoSoxT_ny0loasVzo4uANsJ2SWGbdQb79MnueYHvDSYtv-dGY7/s400/Picture+005_Charcoal_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwRjxKyjlHoSomLRXEWqQyqepT659U7xg3uc4H_j4CuTU7BQyNSF_dgwJ05R7uTQcAFD9MNhh70sgBlKwth5kv_bm6uPar7bCY6c_MqMrqbsW80Uubyl0iE9zMQ5_dhvqAe13K-JTfqacl/s1600/Picture+005_PopArt_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div></div></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-19417830585121108332011-07-03T06:26:00.000-07:002011-07-07T12:12:36.258-07:00The Black and White man<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Mumbai.<br />
Year - 2082.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">It appeared to me as if I was part of a virtual reality. To be frank, I hadn’t seen this kind of a world ever before. There were colors everywhere. It appeared as though a painter was provided a software tool like photoshop and asked to paint the world. <br />
<br />
That was the diversity in the colors that I saw. However there weren’t looking too natural. It appeared as if I was a part of some game. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">However there was some strange element of monotony that seemed to have robbed the world of its beauty. It wasn’t certainly as lively and rich as the sun rise on the sea shore that I was so used to seeing as a child.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I was in a hall that seemed to have screens everywhere. I am sure there were thousands of them at the place for the event. The people I saw had sharp features.<br />
<br />
Most of them were absolutely flawless. Sharp noses, flawless skin, perfect features devoid of any kind of dark circles below the eyes- They had them all. There were no puffy faces or chubby cheeks to be seen anywhere round.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA61Sx_qm9qjreYt23IhJf6tSteQ3qEzExxTm8jZYZtjsXIcoFLu-oUbVY9kXrz163tr5CDOveTo1B67hcaRIqQ_vKbYIvIbblJ99-7lZqpbG4H9LTzyE-HFvAHc3d-MhkbnhsH8yybGJB/s1600/final-fantasy-x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA61Sx_qm9qjreYt23IhJf6tSteQ3qEzExxTm8jZYZtjsXIcoFLu-oUbVY9kXrz163tr5CDOveTo1B67hcaRIqQ_vKbYIvIbblJ99-7lZqpbG4H9LTzyE-HFvAHc3d-MhkbnhsH8yybGJB/s200/final-fantasy-x.jpg" width="200" /></a>Their skin colors were also stunning. I had known only one girl in all my life who had the glowing skin that could be compared with the skin colors of these people.<br />
<br />
These were the kind of colors that I was used to seeing in magazines and on websites. I can understand if there were one or two such people in one single place. But there were around a hundred of them there and all appeared flawless. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
I spoke to a guy from UK who was sitting next to me. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">“These people now get to buy the best algorithms to enhance their body and facial features” he said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">It was true. The girls around me appeared as if they were designed to seduce men. They had such perfect features and awesome body colors.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">“Well all 21 of us appear to be from a different time frame. Well, in fact we are. But the technological advances make me feel as if we are in a virtual reality”, the guy from UK commented.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">He was right. We were the 21 humans around the world who were more than 100 years old. This special conference that was being held in Mumbai called “The Celebration of “Human Race. All of us were the treasured species since there was something human and imperfect about us unlike the current generation. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I saw a Japanese guy moving towards me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">“Hey. You are so unique and out of the world here. My brain read the feed about you but I wanted to know your story in person. Why are you black and white? I know it is something to do with that emotional quotient transfer” he said.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I started explaining him the story and this is how it went. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASPOkIXPB1KnCqBhfwnfJc_8o5SGp98tXBzxrNnbSvnr_cUFnFMZrBz7ZWVMEP8vPcwRxa7dMXGxLQb88zd_h3HJbOrQp0KeweYISQ1S1afl1xgR5R7S5esllC3wp3Q3y3H8LofHPkgk5/s1600/Shop+model.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhASPOkIXPB1KnCqBhfwnfJc_8o5SGp98tXBzxrNnbSvnr_cUFnFMZrBz7ZWVMEP8vPcwRxa7dMXGxLQb88zd_h3HJbOrQp0KeweYISQ1S1afl1xgR5R7S5esllC3wp3Q3y3H8LofHPkgk5/s200/Shop+model.JPG" width="150" /></a>My face and features were blanked out due to the mishap that happened during the emotional quotient transfer that was carried out by Facebook on the advertising professionals in India in 2073.<br />
<br />
My face lost the features and the color. I now looked like this life sized dummy model used to display clothes in the shops of yore. It was indeed ironical that my face had to be blanked out due to a mishap by a company called Facebook.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"> I was however being prepared for this “Celebration of Human race” conference. The Indian teams of scientists were trying to use my picture and enhance my face accordingly. As luck would have it, I had lost all that data during the emotional quotient transfer mishap.<br />
<br />
There was only one picture that I had and it was in Black and white. This was the one where I looked like an underworld don in Bollywood movies. My cousin’s obsession (the one who clicked the picture) with the Color accentuated mode left me black and white.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">As per the instructions from the conference team, this photo was not allowed to be enhanced or changed in any form so that the natural element could be retained. My picture was left in black and white instead of being colored. I was dressed in a white shirt and black trousers so that it matched my black and white face.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I finished narrating my story to the Japanese guy and others around me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">So, I was the black and white man in the world glittering with colors all around. The 20 other 100 year olds paled in comparison but then they were the natural species and had this specialty about them. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">As ever, as it always happened in my life, I was again the outlier. I was the 100 year old with the face of a 29 year old. I was most unique of them all perhaps. But then grass is always greener on the other side. I would ok if it was just green on my side but then it was Black and white. I wish it was colorful.<br />
<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQalPe1zYy4Q-xxd_cjDTFteL6juA-4BsNv1zvak0X0m4ugWoRNGrYa5olLtdZhnzae_030WY-oHdTf7aRknkp6w5A2cUJQVHSTyfAOVtGkOlsH4LWiRouJAfoqxrDdeho9Ze2bpyJH7L9/s1600/don.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQalPe1zYy4Q-xxd_cjDTFteL6juA-4BsNv1zvak0X0m4ugWoRNGrYa5olLtdZhnzae_030WY-oHdTf7aRknkp6w5A2cUJQVHSTyfAOVtGkOlsH4LWiRouJAfoqxrDdeho9Ze2bpyJH7L9/s400/don.jpg" width="400" /> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">P.S - All the images except mine are not my own and are from the internet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">This post has been written for HP Laserjet Take Flight With Colour Contest in association with <a href="http://www.indiblogger.in/">Indiblogger</a>. Please click below to find out more</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.hp.com/in/laserjet"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKH3h7JqgE7yq0i9fXbqPQM8LDfbicawOmGY6k9vvko6OR5LeUN4SQde-h5-xJ_fxmFZQJM816AslZo5qBMoIX56-lGrtcSxKhdoFJaqTefzDXHxlJ-1A0zx41mJsBofFvcFlRqCuRF6n/s400/hp_print2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span id="goog_1200615933"></span><span id="goog_1200615934"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">If you like the post, then please do promote this post <a href="http://www.indiblogger.in/indipost.php?post=65333">here</a>.</div></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-7560346355791722142011-07-01T12:38:00.000-07:002011-07-04T09:28:29.953-07:00How Social Media works<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwceyvvU8OHKUrm6RnokOwfanpt2eK_kkrZ9LU3S15EuWxdF05N7CK5r7oOAmev_r-RyEOSm8WQMznnPfbgTg3_tSRun58nUWdwbr_ejGWyDzx1WtSmASbm_7GkFv8uC9CApYyQpp9P6TG/s1600/Social+media-+babebook.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwceyvvU8OHKUrm6RnokOwfanpt2eK_kkrZ9LU3S15EuWxdF05N7CK5r7oOAmev_r-RyEOSm8WQMznnPfbgTg3_tSRun58nUWdwbr_ejGWyDzx1WtSmASbm_7GkFv8uC9CApYyQpp9P6TG/s400/Social+media-+babebook.JPG" width="353" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvIKiiCD-pjqrJbgF78DfFkAC6yMVXjsmmwOyBq8wpLQ2bX2zB2P1b-dG8hZiG9DW8dEa8tml9d8lRRr5av1ZNrgCbC4YGHPHfLXFXcVzaFryDNV7zGtvIa8hDjftFRO63ccZkljiVyw9o/s1600/Social+media-+babebook.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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</div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-76203314431096488112011-06-07T12:39:00.000-07:002011-07-18T11:07:38.066-07:00The birthday gift<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCMQx9aSBiZSps24zj3R2AwYJw6Gw6IbiAm2unJxVQ2sRA5zdHkFuyYIZ7LBSTBxqUpT3FMemkPJZdUp9w5GUH1RxYFk1kpGAw_zIUDSY0PrEuA7Iso2PTR3A58NtNb_pDuRKQmLCtKf-/s1600/editorschoice_new2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCMQx9aSBiZSps24zj3R2AwYJw6Gw6IbiAm2unJxVQ2sRA5zdHkFuyYIZ7LBSTBxqUpT3FMemkPJZdUp9w5GUH1RxYFk1kpGAw_zIUDSY0PrEuA7Iso2PTR3A58NtNb_pDuRKQmLCtKf-/s1600/editorschoice_new2.png" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> <i> </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><i> This blog post has been listed in the <a href="http://blogjunta.com/index.php/editors-choice/151-editors-choice-13thjul-2011#jacommentid:640">Editor's choice on Blogjunta.com for June 2011.</a></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The clock struck 12. I was waiting for that to happen since the last 1 hour. I wished myself, ' <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">So finally it is the day you have been waiting since the last 3 months - June 3rd. Yes! It was Varsha's birthday</b>.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The New Year, my birthday and birthday of Varsha were always special for me. Often her birthday was the day for which I would set targets to turn a new leaf. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">This time the target was to lose 3 kgs by June 3<sup>rd</sup>. Of course these would usually remain mere resolutions and I remained my usual chubby self.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I checked my watch at least a dozen times in the last 1 hour. And when it struck 12, I was relieved. But then I had a new thought in my mind now. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">When and how do I wish her? I can call her as she is in a different city- Pune. But then every other friend would call. So I decided I wouldn’t.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">‘May be I should keep her waiting for my call’</b>, my heart told me. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">‘You think she even cares for that’</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> my brain warned me. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">And yeah it was just not about the wish, it was about the gift- <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The photo scrapbook that contained all her best photos.</b> I wanted to see how she would react once she got the gift.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I thought it was awesome. I knew she would feel the same. But then she wouldn’t just admit. Like every other girl, she was afraid that I would consider a smile from her as ‘<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yes! She likes me too’.</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Well, I am not particularly great in understanding and predicting human (read girl) behavior. It’s just that I the snapshot of when-she-snapped- me-moment last year when I gave her the birthday gift is still fresh and clear in my mind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">But then this is another year and we were not in the same city. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. The die-hard optimist in me was kicking and alive. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I slept at around 2 am imagining and rehearsing how the next day would be. I did not know her house address and didn’t want to ask her as that would give her a clue. I had couriered the gift and a cake to her office address. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">She would see the gift and call me all excited. I wanted to talk as if I didn’t remember her birthday. You know <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">‘the cool smart ass’ kinds ;)</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">But I wasn’t one. I was a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">silly billy</b>. I woke up at 8 am the next day and the first thing I did was to check the courier status online if the gift had reached her. The delivery time was 1:00 pm. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"><b>‘So wait till lunch time’</b>, I told myself.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I was at work but then I was in no mood to work. The blue dart page was being refreshed every 5 minutes and my eyes looked at my mobile every 10 minutes. Ah… The wait! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">It was 1 p.m. Yay! The gift would have reached her. I looked at my mobile phone again. If there was some kind of electromagnetic rays which my emotions could generate, my phone would probably search her number and call her. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">But alas! This was life and not a Rajnikanth Robot movie! I went for my lunch. I ate without talking much. My colleagues found it weird that I did not utter a single word although the food was pathetic. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Well, there was only the heart running the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">WAIT</b> function in my system. All the other parts were on a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">‘CHALTA HAIN’</b> mode. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The wait continued post lunch. After the longest afternoon of my life, I decided that I would call her. It was 6 pm. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Probably, the courier hadn’t reached her or maybe she was waiting for me to call as it was her birthday. I finally called her. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">My heart</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">- Happy Birthday to you, Varsha sweetheart in the background</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Me:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Hey</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Varsha:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Hi</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">My heart</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">: Just a ‘hi’? Isn’t today your birthday? Get a life, Varsha.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Me:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> How are you? What’s up?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Varsha:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Nothing much. You tell me. What are you doing?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Me:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Nothing. I was very busy all day. Shit loads of work. Just got free. So thought I would call you.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">My heart:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Work? His foot ! I wish I (the heart) could tell you how overworked I am in the last 18 hours</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Varsha:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Nice. How’s your work?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Me:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Yeah it’s good. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">My heart:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Both of you will kill me. You dumbo! She is unmoved and you act unmoved. Why don’t you tell her how upset you are that she is so unperturbed despite you not wishing her after 16 hours of June 3<sup>rd</sup>. Mind, please don’t interfere. Mouth, please co-ordinate.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Varsha:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Cool.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Me:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Happy Birthday! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">My heart</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">: Thank God! He said it at last. I would have burst if he held it any longer.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Varsha:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Thank you so much. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Me:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Weren’t you expecting me to wish you the moment I called you?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">My heart: </span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Why will she? You thought she would appear out of the phone to hug you. <b>Sudhar ja</b> and relieve me of all these tension.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Varsha:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Oh...come on. I am ok with friends not remembering my birthday. I am no celebrity!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">My heart:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Celebrity? You are the mix of Angelina Jolie and Katrina Kaif for him! But dude, why she isn’t talking anything about the gift. Did she get it at all?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Me:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> So how was work today?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Varsha:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Oh! I didn’t go to work today.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">My heart:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> That explains it. Why does it always happen to him?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Me:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Oh.. But why? So are you going tomorrow?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">My heart: </span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">The hope I say!!!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">Varsha:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> Oh sorry! I forgot to tell you. I quit that job, left Pune and moved to Gurgaon. I will be going to work from next Monday</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">I didn’t know what to say.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";">My heart:</span></b><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> I m broke. I won’t work for the next 2 months now. System shut down.</span></div><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif";"> </span> </div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-75294360994688064212011-05-29T09:14:00.000-07:002011-06-09T01:26:04.032-07:00The idea of JALSA<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">If you have read my last post on <a href="http://ummwowhuh.blogspot.com/2011/05/walk-jalsa.html">'The Walk</a>' , then you might have chanced upon the word 'Jalsa' in the last few lines. So then let me get going about Jalsa</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>WTF is JALSA all about ? </b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Jalsa is an acronym for Just Another Love Story Attempt. I believe Love stories ( stories rather) are getting too cliched and routine. Also, there are more love story attempts than the actual love stories ( again I would call them stories ). </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">So then I thought it might be interesting to write about them and thus Jalsa.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Why the name 'Jalsa'? </b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Verve! Passion! Enthusiasm! All these are words that I love but then all these are cliched.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Jalsa In Telugu stands for enjoyment, merriment and pleasure. All these are things that a guy or gal in a love story attempt would look for. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Since I was able to come up with a cool acronym for it, I decided on Jalsa.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Aren't Love story attempts more cliched than Love stories?</b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">There are definitely many more Love story attempts than love stories but they are not cliched. A Jalsa story will not have a start or an end. The story will be about the just the interesting/memorable/ touching moments that usually don't get too much of attention in a regular love story.( story). </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">The focus unlike in movies or books is not on whether <b>'he or she finally agreed' </b> nor is it <b>'they lived happily ever after'</b> lines. It's just about those few moments in a love story attempt.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Aren't love stories a better option?</b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Let me tell you that there no love stories, there are only love story attempts. The Love story attempt is either one-sided or mutual. That's it.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>WTF? So you think there are no love stories at all ? </b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Nope. There are no love stories. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Initially, the boy likes a girl, the girl doesn't - <b>One sided love story attempt. </b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Then after a while, the boy still likes the girl and the girl starts liking the boy - <b>Mutual love story attempt. </b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Then they fall in love. And then they get married. Yeah <b>this is the love phase</b>.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Now there are other things like career, children, family responsibilities etc etc that take a priority. <b>Love disappears and the only the story remains.</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr_bs9Q1uUm2sm108bZ98VJxHFLNAQZwF5UBN7kaQ6A3hEH_6xZ-_yVuNxfgeHsm4CoDaMbFxiMa6HLEPVfqBh84pMHppDeycSh8XDZe4D7WyNIRAA7lpaD-xw3gfbOCShAEfpbAs9v7TZ/s1600/The+idea+of+Jalsa.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr_bs9Q1uUm2sm108bZ98VJxHFLNAQZwF5UBN7kaQ6A3hEH_6xZ-_yVuNxfgeHsm4CoDaMbFxiMa6HLEPVfqBh84pMHppDeycSh8XDZe4D7WyNIRAA7lpaD-xw3gfbOCShAEfpbAs9v7TZ/s400/The+idea+of+Jalsa.JPG" width="352" /></a></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Wait! Didn't you say -A Love phase? Isn't that a love story?</b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Hahaha. The phase is too short and temporary to be called story. So no love stories. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Also if this is called a love story, what do you call the story that might happen with other man/woman post this story. Another love story? You may or may not. But then there are interesting moments in the next story as well ;)</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Too many stories will be boring. So I think it is a better idea to talk about those wonderful moments in between, no matter when they happen. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Is JALSA all about unrequited love?</b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Jalsa stories don't have an end. So you can never say whether it was unrequited love or mutual one. It's about those moments with a lot of emotions. It is likely that the emotionally charged moments happen in a one sided love story attempt more often than in other stories,</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Are the JALSA stories about you?</b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I wish I had so many stories to talk about. But unfortunately I don't have them . There is a bit of real life inspiration in these stories. But yeah a JALSA story as a whole is fictitious. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I won't be able to convey these feelings effectively when I write in third person narrating a story about a Rahul or a Rohan . I believe I am good when I write in first person and the whole thing feels so real when I do that . So all Jalsa stories will be first person.<br />
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<b>What genre do Jalsa stories belong to? </b><br />
I didn't know that there was genre for these kinds of writings. These are perhaps the male equivalent of chick-lit stories. Thanks to one of my friends , I came to know that this kind of writing is called Lad lit. That's the closest genre that Jalsa stories might fall into- Indian Lad lit :)</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>What's the next thing on Jalsa after <a href="http://ummwowhuh.blogspot.com/2011/05/walk-jalsa.html">'The walk'</a>?</b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">If I don't get another idea or inspiration, that might be the last one too :)</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I don't have a huge list of ideas ready so I'll be taking it one by one.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">But I have always been fascinated by these JALSA moments . Not everyone will be writing about them. But may be there will be many who would like to see it as a part of a story.<br />
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So then probably down the lane, when I run out of ideas/content, I would love to get in touch with these people.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">If you are one and would like to share your JALSA moment with me and then the world , you can buzz me on kidoredo@gmail.com.<br />
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The JALSA list so far<br />
<ul><li> <a href="http://ummwowhuh.blogspot.com/2011/05/walk-jalsa.html">The walk</a></li>
<li><a href="http://ummwowhuh.blogspot.com/2011/06/birthday-gift.html">The birthday gift</a></li>
</ul></div></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-62007639027839610812011-05-25T12:44:00.000-07:002011-06-03T22:54:44.305-07:00The walk<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Why do we need to get married? Can't we be 22/23/24 year olds all through our life? Oh yeah.. the human race might cease to exist.<br />
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But then she would be there always and forever for me- anytime. These were the thoughts that crossed my mind as the sweetest 25 year old on earth - Deepthi was all set to tie the knot.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">It wasn't as if Deepthi (or Dee as I called her ) did not know of my feelings for her. With me being the open book that I was, there was no way that a girl like her wouldn't know about it. She knew it. I knew that she knew it.<br />
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But I was so damn sure that she would give me the ' <b>But then.. you are my best friend!</b>' answer.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"> With all the preparations done, Dee had quit the job. She would be here for one day. Just one more day. And then she would be off to her native place Alleppey to get married and then off to Singapore with that geeky to be husband. <br />
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Why are the competitors of guys like me always the Geeky/NRI types? </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Dee calls him perfect husband material. Grr.. whatever that means. I really don't care. These kinds seem to be well-settled right from the time they go to school.<br />
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Worse still, they only seem to study 24*7 and make no attempt to woo girls. And take away the blue eyed angels from guys who were born to love like yours truly. Life is unfair. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I hated him. Added to that this guy belonged to MBA. And I absolutely detest MBA. No! Not Master of Business Administration. I am talking about Mallu Brother Association. I hated Mallu guys because Dee always believed that Mallu guys were special creatures on earth. So much that she even liked Sreesanth and thought he was a cool rock star! </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">My phone rang at around 9 pm that day. It was her.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me </b>- ' Hello'</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Dee-</b> 'Hey.. wassup? What are you doing?'</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me</b>- Nothing much. I am about to start from office.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Dee</b>- I am at Ash's place. Listen let's go for a walk tomorrow. You, me and Ash.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me</b>- Hmmmm</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Dee</b> - Ok. I will wake you tomorrow at 5:45 am. Bubye.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Me</b>-Hmm..ok.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Did I just say ok? How could I? Walk with Dee was what I wanted to do . I wanted to spend some quality time with her. But why Ass err Ash? Kebab mein haddi!<br />
<br />
No! He was not an MBA. He was a Tam Bram but his genuine admiration for the MBA group, and all the things that Dee liked including herself made me hate him. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Ash aka Ashwin was Dee's good friend. Not good? She keeps telling me that he is one of her best friends. But I wonder how she has manages to have a long list of best friends. I had lots of friends but only one best friend ever since I joined work and it was Dee. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I messaged her around 11:30 pm that night and told her that I was too tired to wake up in the morning. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">She messaged me back saying - <i><b>'Nothing doing. Sleep now! I will wake you up in the morning for one long walk and breakfast with my best friends'. </b></i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Best friends? Why plural? Best friend was good enough. <b>'I will not go,' </b>I told myself. I always believed the love between Ash and me was mutual. We hated each other He was probably praying that I fell ill the next day morning. Damn! Let him and Dee go. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Three is a crowd. Especially if the girl is Dee and the haddi is Ash. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKZkBeDnoGWJJu-VXsJmlQNve8QG3SAyOK5vw-6vbZPxuhoog83wnMlTWhHq2yqXtdrM9w1wGUIHrBbpwlHCNJW9JYHo0e1Pzv-LXTXE4GQDPhsK8z5AziAlIWX20WCt-_HB8XkreszWA4/s1600/jalsa-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKZkBeDnoGWJJu-VXsJmlQNve8QG3SAyOK5vw-6vbZPxuhoog83wnMlTWhHq2yqXtdrM9w1wGUIHrBbpwlHCNJW9JYHo0e1Pzv-LXTXE4GQDPhsK8z5AziAlIWX20WCt-_HB8XkreszWA4/s400/jalsa-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
It was 12:00 am then. I was very tired. But then I couldn't sleep. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Suddenly all mosquitoes in my room seem to have come alive.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">All-out was on. But then every now and then I opened my eyes feeling a mosquito. I never found any mosquito. But then why I was so damn restless?</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">No! There was <b>no exam</b> the next day!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">No! I was <b>not going out on a date</b> !</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">It was just one stupid walk with Dee. And I had made up my mind not to go. But then my heart was not allowing me to sleep.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I finally slept at around 3 am.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">My cell did not have enough charge and it got switched off at 5:25 am.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">And amazingly I got up at this time and saw all this happening.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">But then I did not bother to do anything. I let my phone die.<br />
<br />
I got up at 7 am. I switched on my cell and started charging it.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Dee had messaged me. It read <b>' What's this??? :(' .</b> </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">The :( in the message told the whole story. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">But then I would have had :(((((( expression on face had I gone for the walk. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">It wasn't as if I had a million dollar smile on my face either. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Later in the day, she called me.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I was feeling guilty. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">But then I managed to ask her about the walk in the morning. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">"The walk never happened. Both of you are hopeless. Ash got stuck with his project till 3 am in the office. And you? You are such an a*#@$@#. How could you switch off your phone in the morning??? '</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">'Ah!! I messed it up again', I said to myself. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">P.S - <i>This is a part of my new crush project- The <b>JALSA</b> series. Keep watching this space to know about <b>JALSA</b>!</i></div></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-73907208538231459032011-05-07T19:07:00.000-07:002011-05-07T22:37:24.139-07:00100% Love on the Single Screen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;"><b>'No 100% Love this weekend'</b> I thought as the tickets for the movie were over in all the multiplexes.<b> Life bhi saala gaandu hain</b>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">For once, you feel like wanting/doing something and circumstances will conspire to make sure that you don't get it easily. (Opposite of what was said in Alchemist). </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>'Forget it'</b>, I said to myself as an irritating Friday ended on an even more disappointing note.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Working on a Saturday isn't easy. Half of the day is lost in cribbing that you are unfortunate to work on a Saturday. The mind is looking for the slightest opportunity to do something that I normally used to do on a 5 day week Saturday. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">My phone buzzed and I got a message. Who could it be? May be another stupid TD-something message asking me to download some silly song. Nope , it was something better. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was my friend Kishore and it read <b>' Booked tickets for 100% Love at Sri Sai Ranga cinema hall for the second show.' </b> Haa.. Paulo Coelho wasn't kidding in Alchemist for sure :)</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">We reached the cinema hall at 8:55 pm. There was a long queue about 10m long that reminded me of the serpentine queue to Lord Balaji in Chilkur temple. The devotees in this case were so damn determined to meet their God ( the guy at the counter) and get the Prasad ( tickets for the next day's show) . </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Over the last few years, using this site called bookmyshow.com meant that I never encountered these queues. I was reminded of the days when getting movie tickets on the first day standing in the queue or through some contact in the movie hall was something that you could be proud of.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">We entered the hall and sat in our seats. It was as if we sat in an APSRTC regular- no -frills bus. My bum had become so accustomed to the layers of cushion in the Rs 150 Multiplex tickets. Rs 40 meant that we got only this much. But somehow I felt good. It was like the spicy mom cooked home food that one gets to savor after a long onsite assignment where bland food is the only option.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was my nose's turn to get nostalgic. This was this whiff of air that I was so familiar with watching a Chiranjeevi movie in college bunking some class. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The whiff of air that I last smelt when I saw the movie '<b>Kick' </b>a few years back in the Odeon movie hall on the RTC X Roads. I heard somewhere that all those movie halls will be converted to multiplexes soon. Am I missing on something because of the modernization?</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was a hot day and we felt good today sitting inside the movie hall. It was a different kind of AC to the one that we find in multiplexes today. This was like the wind that blows across your face when you stand in front of an air cooler. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">In the last movie that I saw at the Big Cinemas Multiplex, I wasn't sure if the AC was switched on. I felt much better in the hall today.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I accidentally hit the glass cold drink (yeah NOT soft drinks, I first knew them as cold drinks) bottle with my leg. As it rolled on the ground, it made a sound that was so used to as a kid. It was the sound the hawker made striking the bottle opener against the glass cold drink bottles. It was at a time when drinking cold drinks in the interval was something as eagerly awaited as the hero's entry in the movie. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">The movie started and the hero made his entry. There was a huge uproar in the hall accompanied by whistles. There were whistles , cat calls and huge roars of laughter for every interesting scene in the movie. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Multiplexes over the years seemed to have turned movie watching into an art appreciation class rather than the mass entertainment it used to be. After a long 6 day week, I needed some entertainment and I was loving it here.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">During the interval, </span><span style="font-size: small;">I was tempted by the sight of the onion samosas.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">" I want to taste it. Give me a bit of nostalgia too !!", my tongue exclaimed. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">" I am full after that heavy dinner. Please don't stuff that into me ", my tummy seemed to say.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">" You are no longer in your teens, you moron. You are almost 30 and you need some discretion especially when it comes to eating ", my mind screamed at me. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I listened to it and proceeded </span><span style="font-size: small;">to have coffee for Rs 10 . There was no Popcorn+ Soft drink+ Nachos Salsa hole in my pocket . Ah.. It felt so good. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">After an hour, the movie ended. 100% Love was ok. But the experience was more than 100% fulfilling. I have just realized the joy that an nostalgic experience can give us. And I am loving it :)</span></div></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-15825347289742335102011-05-02T13:35:00.001-07:002011-05-02T14:01:31.330-07:00Nenu Na Rakshasi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLDBgJMer9jw3NCiy4Hci6N8L-YzMFBAXI6BHd0HcdfiXa_7V1qCmQ4MZEhmrcvZvRMOaDIyVKVzwip4WaoE012zmOH8O8tO5_JjSKRV4PgyeDzfocyxqy1ypvoyNigyP-wpyyGawH9hKw/s1600/Nenu+Na+Rakshasi-comic+strip.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLDBgJMer9jw3NCiy4Hci6N8L-YzMFBAXI6BHd0HcdfiXa_7V1qCmQ4MZEhmrcvZvRMOaDIyVKVzwip4WaoE012zmOH8O8tO5_JjSKRV4PgyeDzfocyxqy1ypvoyNigyP-wpyyGawH9hKw/s400/Nenu+Na+Rakshasi-comic+strip.JPG" width="353" /></a></div><br />
</div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-18597211018763126212011-04-26T12:47:00.000-07:002011-05-02T13:40:41.247-07:00Is this love?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOqZsruAl_3cqEnaTrxohxLUMJfqb50RilQ7LsX7EfGJTIB07IitOgAWT55YJ-YoKmPU6ocOaQBGhhlI1KVUZHViBNIZwkH4dDLPVBGlKzT4ol9x1HiAh4saHBVtBIJ-6FqyTnC3CbLrFb/s1600/is+this+love-comic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOqZsruAl_3cqEnaTrxohxLUMJfqb50RilQ7LsX7EfGJTIB07IitOgAWT55YJ-YoKmPU6ocOaQBGhhlI1KVUZHViBNIZwkH4dDLPVBGlKzT4ol9x1HiAh4saHBVtBIJ-6FqyTnC3CbLrFb/s400/is+this+love-comic.JPG" width="353" /></a></div><br />
</div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-39074792103743453292011-04-08T01:55:00.003-07:002011-04-08T02:23:54.833-07:00Who is the Kid?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHh3uxVzXL6idmOuk2fviIS8AVLs1saXoyjecTHG-_xfOC2csPfko-J7WXlFib317_gXSGsZJDUqvx_FwbgdL-e2SQVxh0kupUOI9x7fQfUXXZB_GvsePWcsodo4u7GX07NUQgNmOHrEDC/s1600/Comic-+April-1-2011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHh3uxVzXL6idmOuk2fviIS8AVLs1saXoyjecTHG-_xfOC2csPfko-J7WXlFib317_gXSGsZJDUqvx_FwbgdL-e2SQVxh0kupUOI9x7fQfUXXZB_GvsePWcsodo4u7GX07NUQgNmOHrEDC/s400/Comic-+April-1-2011.JPG" width="353" /></a></div><br />
</div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-15360557707321697932011-04-03T07:20:00.000-07:002011-04-03T20:10:29.128-07:00And finally we have seen India win the World Cup<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">The bell rang. It was the pizza guy from Dominos. I got up to remove money find my wallet. Suddenly on the TV screen, the ball was up in the air and out into the stands. Dhoni had hit a six and India had won the 2011 World Cup.<br />
<br />
Hurray! Yipee! We did it! I hugged my friends and we were on top of the world just as we had cracked something big all by ourselves. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">The firework had started around 5-6 overs and now it had reached deafening proportions with one house competing with the other to celebrate more. If we as fans could feel so much, it was not surprising to see some of the Indian players burst into tears on the ground.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">What is with this passion that we Indians have for cricket? Why are we so attached to this sport? I can’t speak for the whole country, but I guess there will be many who will have the same story as me and my friends.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><b><i>Classy Jayawardene takes SL to 274. I wouldn't blame the Indian bowlers too much, Jayawardene was too good. Tough chase for India. Will they make it? Come on India. Didn't know what cricket was in 1983. Win it guys for me and many others like me!</i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">This was my status message on Facebook after the Sri Lankan innings. Ever since I started following cricket in 1992 (India’s tour to South Africa), India’s World cup win in 1983 was often discussed as The Moment for Indian cricket.<br />
<br />
I was barely 1.5 years old when this happened and don’t know what happened. Yeah I have heard about the Balwinder Singh Sandhu’s ball to bowl Greenidge and about Kapil Dev’s catch to dismiss Viv Richards a million times on TV . But then I never experienced it firsthand.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtEASY8Z_0Qm6AniUjSO2NFO2Jsb87jpKqBQhgSRl6lfuAskIFD6FDP5e1KCY7i6HXf1zW6v0bRhv5qa1fffpIwDoYrlHfl1TqrpA9JtWF5PeNe8CRiQ8PoP6FHvH0a3fdTJl88vKHa2Gl/s1600/17NXG_SANDHU_NEW_479125a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtEASY8Z_0Qm6AniUjSO2NFO2Jsb87jpKqBQhgSRl6lfuAskIFD6FDP5e1KCY7i6HXf1zW6v0bRhv5qa1fffpIwDoYrlHfl1TqrpA9JtWF5PeNe8CRiQ8PoP6FHvH0a3fdTJl88vKHa2Gl/s320/17NXG_SANDHU_NEW_479125a.jpg" width="288" /></a></div>Like many others of my age, I went berserk celebrating India’s victory over Pakistan in the World Cup quarterfinals in 1996. But then many of us also cried a couple of days later when India lost at Kolkata in the semi-finals. That perhaps was the saddest day that we had watching cricket.<br />
<br />
1999 wasn’t any better. India’s loss to Zimbabwe messed it up for us and we weren’t good enough to go to the semis. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">The 2003 World Cup was great for us till we ran into Ricky Ponting’s men in the finals. We still aren’t good enough we thought. 2007 ended with the first match defeat to Bangladesh and then Sri Lanka crushed whatever little hopes we had. ‘When are we going to be the World Cup champions? ‘, we all wondered. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
<b><i>‘Sachin is God and Cricket is a religion in India’.</i></b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgekL-gxyJ0da1KMlk90VvBmLa-9BWlAiYxwKUyXw9UleiProc6HYPNHkkSJ2KFxyVqKNUq7lWcF4rXhNYyCE17BZZ_Rtf47vOEBVFnx9OIRbxu7uYImk_MrKHtDKXCdksyRQ_K7KXm9OK4/s1600/24sachin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgekL-gxyJ0da1KMlk90VvBmLa-9BWlAiYxwKUyXw9UleiProc6HYPNHkkSJ2KFxyVqKNUq7lWcF4rXhNYyCE17BZZ_Rtf47vOEBVFnx9OIRbxu7uYImk_MrKHtDKXCdksyRQ_K7KXm9OK4/s320/24sachin.jpg" width="250" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">For all of us born in the eighties Sachin Tendulkar is not just The God but a human force who symbolizes our hope and aspirations. A World Cup win was eluding him time and again although he usually is at his best in the World Cups.<br />
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Life can’t be so unfair. Not at least to The God of cricket, Sachin Tendulkar and his billion Indian devotees.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">To call cricket a religion would be an understatement in this modern era. Cricket for people like us is a way of life.<br />
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We take inspiration in our studies and our daily jobs watching the cricket matches. We have archetypes of cricketers in our minds and understand a lot of things in our daily lives and careers based on these self-constructed archetypes.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">India winning a series or a cup is usually an inspiration for us to turn a corner in our lives. India’s win over Australia in the 2001 series especially that stand between Dravid and Laxman is what we look up to when we are down in the dumps in our careers.<br />
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India’s loss of Zimbabwe in the 1999 World Cup is what flashes across our mind and reminds us how important it is not to slip in an easy assignment. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">We all know that it is essential to have different qualities while doing different kinds of tasks. Sometimes you need to things fast at a scorching pace like a Virender Sehwag often does while at times it is essential to buckle down and set the house in proper shape like a Rahul Dravid. When we mess up things and have nowhere to hide, we still hope we get lucky like Joginder Sharma did in the 2007 World T20 final.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">So the innings that Dhoni played yesterday, promoting himself up the order to counter the off spinners is going to inspire us for the rest of our lives. That six that he hit to win us the cup will remain etched in our memory.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj__HJqFwNNEMqsO1jEy6q7GkS5bSKqgwagDjvDWF7cmuLEQTAfeEL6E5ryk6x88oUhVjNRTlaKGxzCYk4qVG2t13UXMvMuI2eNbAW8hmIxSjsUqKxteEUNaTkK6fOq-LVlhJqYc7pb5MMd/s1600/131013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj__HJqFwNNEMqsO1jEy6q7GkS5bSKqgwagDjvDWF7cmuLEQTAfeEL6E5ryk6x88oUhVjNRTlaKGxzCYk4qVG2t13UXMvMuI2eNbAW8hmIxSjsUqKxteEUNaTkK6fOq-LVlhJqYc7pb5MMd/s320/131013.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Yesterday when I reached home at 12:30 am, I got a call from one of my crazy cricket friends. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><b><i>‘Buddy, we have won! We are the World Cup champions. I don’t care how we perform going ahead. This is a victory for our generation, those born in the eighties. We now have a story to tell our children’.</i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;">Oh yeah! I couldn’t agree more. And what an awesome story.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-51901565820158203962011-02-22T08:06:00.000-08:002011-02-23T08:58:02.077-08:00My name is ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">There is this blogger who added me to some group on facebook the other day. I was glad about this and thanked her. <b>' You are very welcome, Raghu'</b> she said.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I was not comfortable with this. No, it was not about what she said but there was something that sounded different and I was not too happy about this. I gave it a thought and I realized what it was. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I often used to comment on her blog posts where my screen name is <b>Kidoredo</b>. So she usually replied calling me <b>Kido</b> which I was used to. Now I was uncomfortable when someone called me by my own name - <b>Raghu</b>.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Well, now that I have brought this topic about my name , let me go on with the whole story.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">As a kid, I never liked the name <b>' Raghu' </b>( neither do I like it now.. but more on that later). It was so old fashioned even at the time when I was a kid. My full name when I was admitted to school was <b>K. Raghu Chaitanya</b> and I always liked the name <b>'Chaitanya' </b>more than the name<b> 'Raghu'.</b> </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Being a devotee of a saint <b>Raghvendra</b>, my mom gave me the name 'Raghu'. Thanks to my Dad I was<b> Raghu Chaitanya </b>and not <b>Raghavendra</b> or <b>Raghupathi</b>. Ah.. how boring would those names be ! Why couldn't she christen me as Venu, Vamsi or any of those cooler names of Lord Krishna? Well, she was never a fan of Gods who practiced polygamy. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">As a kid, I adored megastar<b> Chiranjeevi/Chiru</b> and his movies. In most of his movies, he was called Raja or Raju. Ha...my parents got the first two letters right and why 'ghu' instead of a 'ja' or 'ju'.? Raja/Raju appeared so cool. Even heroes like Venkatesh and Nagarjuna had better names in their movies.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Raghu sounded so old fashioned and cliched even at the time when I did not know what 'cliche' meant. Added to that, Telugu family heroes like Sobhan babu and Murali Mohan often had the name<b> 'Raghu'</b> in the movies those days. <b>'How uncool is that?'</b> , I often wondered. The fact that I never had a 'pet name' like a <b>Munna</b> or a<b> Bunny</b> at home never helped my cause.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">When I was in class 8, I decided to do something about my name. I started using <b>K.R. Chaitanya</b> and even <b>Chaitan</b> on all the labels of my books. <b>Chaitanya </b>to me was cool and I sooo loved the very few friends, cousins who called me by that name. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">At that time, I also went to a tuition where I shed my image of an <b>'Yes mam/Yes Sir' </b> student and instead start pulling everyone's leg including the guy who taught me. When I was in Class 9, studies became more important and I moved to a more serious tuition where there was more study. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Somehow all the <b>K.R Chaitanya </b>hype and hoopla fell apart and it was back to <b>K.Raghu Chaitanya</b> on all the labels on my books. Good things never last long. The next 3 -4 years were as boring as they could. <i>'The name <b>'Raghu'</b> is so synonymous with all the seriousness and boredom of the world', </i> I wondered.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">The year 2000 and I was in IIIT. There were 3 guys with the name <b>'Raghu '</b>and 3 with the name<b> 'Chaitanya'</b> in our batch. Here is my chance to get rid of this name 'Raghu' I thought. I thought of many cool names starting with R. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>'Rocky, Ricky, Rags!</b>' I thought <b>Ricky</b> was the best of them and so self-christened myself by that name. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Ricky</b> sounded so cool. <b>Ricky</b> was so contemporary. <b>Ricky Ponting</b> was also coming of age during that time. <b>Ricky Martin </b>wasn't doing too bad either<b>. 'It can't get any better',</b> I thought. It felt so good when all of the IIIT junta was calling me <b>Ricky</b>. <i><b>'There you go Raghu',</b></i> I said it myself.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">However once I was out of IIIT into the big bad world, doing a job, the name '<b>Ricky' </b>disappeared into the oblivion. I made an effort to retain the name '<b>Ricky',</b> but somehow couldn't. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">And then one day one of my blushes ( my name for a crush) said '</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b>' Ricky is so unlike you. The name Raghu suits you more.'</b> </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Damn. I thought. Am I so boring and old fashioned :P ?</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">And her words still echo in my ears. Sob! Sob!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Perhaps Shakespeare was right. <b>What's in a name? </b>A guy called <b>'Raghu'</b> would remain the same even when called by some other name :D</div></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-56751801032011796102011-01-20T10:31:00.000-08:002011-01-20T10:57:23.508-08:00Who is THE ONE?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKz68T4ISkOBwUySwbWQZ93IPZxZOYF4ZbnP2KE9m-9K7mvSW0LPYxCHl5AUJrHarhvirnREe2ZNe-Z97WLoCNU5URlZIF0AGza4FXN9Y-1zp3eKU3imBudy4GueIqHC2pLtkdgJZ53pg/s1600/comic-18.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKz68T4ISkOBwUySwbWQZ93IPZxZOYF4ZbnP2KE9m-9K7mvSW0LPYxCHl5AUJrHarhvirnREe2ZNe-Z97WLoCNU5URlZIF0AGza4FXN9Y-1zp3eKU3imBudy4GueIqHC2pLtkdgJZ53pg/s400/comic-18.JPG" width="353" /></a></div></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-85952664025440816032011-01-09T19:06:00.000-08:002011-01-09T19:07:48.673-08:00Chicken or the Egg<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Content or Marketing? This is the question that usually stumped me whenever I thought of marketing my blog. I always had this feeling that I will start marketing my blog once I write very well and have a great layout. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Although the thought had its own merits, the problem that I faced was the '<b>ideal layout or content'</b> on my blog never happened. It was usually one good or may be an ordinary post followed by a hiatus. I happened to show my <a href="http://www.kidoredo.blogspot.com/">old blog</a> to someone who was interviewing me for a social media role and he was like WTF! </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">The interviewer thought that it was random ramblings of a bored soul which I agree it is :). But what screwed me was the fact that I did not any social gadgets on my page not even a counter on my page. And yeah I was waiting for the perfect blog site with the perfect layout to happen.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's a <b>chicken or egg</b> problem because I wanted a good number people to read my blog and then perhaps I thought I would start marketing it. But then people don't come to know about your blog unless you market it. So then I started putting my blog links on facebook and gtalk since about a year.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I also realized the fact that I do need more interaction on blogosphere and I can keep improving the blog and its layout. So yeah this interaction bid made me join Indiblogger and yesterday I had the pleasure of meeting so many bloggers in the Bangalore Indiblogger meet. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I totally loved it and felt at my one day trip to Bangalore from Hyderabad was more than worth it.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">As a part of my marketing my blog, I made a card for my blog and distributed it to around 50-60 bloggers. Here you go</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDpkhVM_ZydUmelqOhkw7Nq0BWX2NTzjZi8vS8RKR_5DiT5nUE5xBovaofK8Bqp_3YORgULZrnhc31oeZ6JYDystOyhokuqnFqHs7tw3SxDoV75INKitCgDlfT-yTRd3Htipj2NkEWkBC/s1600/Blogging+card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDpkhVM_ZydUmelqOhkw7Nq0BWX2NTzjZi8vS8RKR_5DiT5nUE5xBovaofK8Bqp_3YORgULZrnhc31oeZ6JYDystOyhokuqnFqHs7tw3SxDoV75INKitCgDlfT-yTRd3Htipj2NkEWkBC/s400/Blogging+card.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know I know ! It is a pain to type the silly URL from a physical copy. But then you get know the other person a lot better through a face to face interaction. Once that is done, the social networking can always be done later. What say?</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now moving on to the card. Movie reviews? Design? Typography? Well well..I don't do all of these. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">For example, I wrote quite a few Telugu movie reviews on the <a href="http://ibnlive.in.com/movies/reviews/telugu_reviews/">ibnlive site</a>. I haven't written anything since I was tired of writing cliched reviews criticizing the movies in the same way every time. The Telugu directors were never bored but then I was. May be with 4 movies releasing this Sankranti, I just might get back to it.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">And yeah I do have immediate plans of starting Bollywood reviews on my blog.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Comics! Yeah, I have done a few of them.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Blogging? Yeah yeah I do it :)</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Marketing? Advertising? That's my job ya !</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Photography? I use a regular digital camera and my photos very very ordinary. Any photos which appear otherwise are courtesy the ladies in the pic or the location.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Design? Yeah, seems to be one of those many things that interests me!</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Typography? My latest crush :D</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ogling at a font on any kind of text on the hoardings, buses, bikes and figuring out if it is a Serif or a Sans Serif font is what I have been doing of late!</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">So all these are things that I have on my card interest me and I believe they are the touch points for me to connect with the talented ones in each of those fields.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have always had this fear that a marketing/promotional effort should not create high expectations that the product cannot match. But then this one for me I thought is the way to inspire me to create a better blog and a better experience. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">So then if you are one of those whom I met yesterday and is reading this, STAY with me( The follower tab I say :P) and I'll make things better :) </span></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5171387768070228067.post-28145461199201511462010-12-25T11:45:00.000-08:002010-12-27T00:32:18.053-08:00Tees Maar Khan - Heroine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBBR2-LHBl-3uBGmxNEmhdZdPBWQDyPbGndCSn3uzfdUrmbzh3BmrLPROK1PpEwP3k5Sg617rjXwZzbYg6D1pqgZ8nIxaBzt8LORcfBwLb_oWtRLhKETWYAdtRdmUW9N60Gx62rlOu0Hz/s1600/TMK-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBBR2-LHBl-3uBGmxNEmhdZdPBWQDyPbGndCSn3uzfdUrmbzh3BmrLPROK1PpEwP3k5Sg617rjXwZzbYg6D1pqgZ8nIxaBzt8LORcfBwLb_oWtRLhKETWYAdtRdmUW9N60Gx62rlOu0Hz/s400/TMK-2.JPG" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Find the comic on the idea of Tees Maar Khan<a href="http://ummwowhuh.blogspot.com/2010/12/idea-of-tees-maar-khan.html"> here </a></div>Kidoredohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08860530490398925325noreply@blogger.com0