tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31997987279765676552024-03-13T09:49:57.462-07:00FROTHDufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-38525911597058818612011-01-02T06:36:00.000-08:002011-01-02T06:45:10.964-08:00My 2010 in a nutshell<div style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51); text-align: center;"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> 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mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> </div><ul style="font-style: italic; text-align: center; color: rgb(0, 51, 51);"><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Working like a donkey. 14 hours a day: its just normal .</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Bye bye Infy. Time to chase dreams.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Bali, here I come. <span style=""> </span></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Oyee,I am<span style=""> </span>a proud uncle and yes, yes I have a niece.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Sleeping, eating, reading , watching movies, writing and thinking .Oh its heaven.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Train to Pune. New destination, new chapter.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">TFI training . One month. Sleep deprived.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Surprise number one.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=""> </span>Mumbai ,be ready .I am on the way .</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">My dream city. Even the rain greeting me is so enticing.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">House hunting. Need a house on rent ,not buying. What????Oh that’s the rent!!!!!!I thought…..</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Finally a house . Starting an austere life.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Rain .I love it .Its so cool.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Bad news from home.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Sidharth Nagar Municipal school…55 brats ….:)</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Surprise number 2.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Lost my mobile and my umbrella.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Still raining!!!! Hate going to school all wet.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Sidharth Nagar Municipal school .Now only 30 brats .:)</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Oh yeah you guessed it all right .It is still raining .God, how I hate rains…<span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="">J</span></span></span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Did I tell you ?? I lost my new mobile also.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Mumbai darshan … </span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Good brats ,bad brats ,but they are all my brats .Love them.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Kids celebrating my birthday . Only 15 days in advance. Owe them a lot.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=""> </span>It is time for wallet . I lost it .Lost everything ,all cards ,all ids and even the house key :)</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Diwali .20 days off.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Police station ,emergency calls .</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Awesome day even though got locked out.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">God’s own country .I am back after six months .</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Eating, sleeping, reading ,watching tv ,travelling, government offices and lots of free advices from everyone.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Off to Ahemedabad . Different.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">May my grandmother’s soul rest in peace . Bye bye grandmother .</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">More bad news.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Terrible last unit .</span></li><li><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:dontvertaligncellwithsp/> <w:dontbreakconstrainedforcedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> <w:word11kerningpairs/> <w:cachedcolbalance/> </w:Compatibility> 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<w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="33" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Book Title"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="37" name="Bibliography"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" qformat="true" name="TOC Heading"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">Thank you.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;">New year’s eve. Watching Mumbai usher in new year .</span></li><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:";" >A movie later it is indeed a new year .</span></span></li></ul>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-62458668030394894512010-12-25T10:16:00.000-08:002010-12-25T10:18:57.021-08:00Requiem for a dream : Mumbai diaries<span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"> Walked back to the abode after a long tiresome day . The white tiled rooms lacking anything on four legs never seemed so alluring. The rolled up mattress on the floor ,the week's news papers strewn all across and the stench of unwashed clothes did lend it an air of rawness and brutishness. With the creaking sound of the ceiling fan's motor ,the hair shed over the last 7 days acquire wings and float happily smacking everything on the way. Papers bearing marks in bright red ink and the ones wearing a blank and unadorned surface lazily stare at the playful hair strands from the corner . The constant honking and roaring of the monsters down below add a constant background music to the untrained ears. The strong smell of an impending birth linger through the walls plastered in white distemper ,the birth of a baby pigeon -a squab . 'The retarded dumb ass pigeon' as the mother is fondly called without fail lays her eggs in front of the residence housing three crack heads. After three unsuccessful attempts ,this time all four are going to make it happen and keenly awaiting the fifth member of the unkempt flat.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Welcome to flat no 703 ,my present abode . Staring through the numerous windows in this seventh floor apartment ,could see a distant mountain gradually being eaten by greed and need .The distant glowing lights elsewhere are shouting out loud that it is festive season in 'The Maximum City' . The city of rags and riches ,rain and more rain ,the battered and the battering, the abundance and the rarity ,the sensitive and the heartless ,dogs and pigeons,the enormous concrete structures and the plastic thatched roofs,the polluted rivers and the well kept swimming pools and finally the innumerable number of homosapiens who design the pavements with their crouched bodies resting on the hard solid ground . This is the city I wanted to be in for so long ,the city of my dreams ,the city that fueled so much desires and finally its the city that I love and hate at the same time ........ Requiem for a dream .:)</span>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-1460199301644770552010-03-27T11:58:00.000-07:002010-03-28T10:34:35.627-07:00MERRIAM WEBSTER’S NINTH ….My Love<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i> I loved her the moment I set eyes on her .Ow on second thought, I think I am not being entirely honest here. The truth is I started loving her only after I laid my hands upon her and that too after two or three times. But the fact is I felt an internal connection with her and that love or admiration or whatever one want to call it hasn’t waned one bit.</i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>I still vividly remember the day she literally stormed into my life. It was not a pleasant or an adorable entry as one would imagine about a long standing relationship. It was on the contrary a tumultuous one, I got beaten up that day on account of her and had to spend that night on a hungry note.</i></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>I was about 11 or 12 at that time and was anxiously waiting for my dad to come back from office . You know when guys turn 12 and if they still wait ‘ANXIOUSLY’ for their father to return home, there could be only two possible reasons. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>One – he would be bringing something yummy yummy to eat .<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>Two- A Cricket bat or maybe a whole cricket kit. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>It was definitely not the first one because my class test marks were in my bag and no amount of yummy yummy was going to make me wait for him ‘ANXIOUSLY’ with that ticking time bomb in my bag.</i></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>The package in his hand was in no way long enough to be a cricket bat and definitely not round enough to be a tennis ball or football. My mom was to blame for she was the one who was giving me high hopes saying that dad would be bringing you something today you would really like. Aaah moms!!!!!!!!!!!</i></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i> The bright colorful wrapper was peeled off and there she was ..Dressed in a bright red coat…the fat, sturdy and monstrous BOOK. I guess there is no need to explain my rage and the reason for my blue buttocks afterwards. It was indeed a stormy start.</i></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>Technically speaking it was not a book but a dictionary ‘<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">MERRIAM WEBSTER’S NINTH COLLEGATE DICTIONARY</span>’. A big fat one with 1564 pages, so heavy that I could have killed my brother with that. Sorry if I sound a little blunt but I was really short of weapons back then.</i></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">That’s how she walked into my life, the little red rays of fun . We had a pretty good run over the years; I remember carrying her in my bag to school with the intention of throwing some real tough words at my English teacher. I stood outside the class for 2 hours after that futile attempt for I didn’t consider the fact that the dictionary was pretty big not to be noticed by the teacher. <o:p></o:p></span></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">I remember running to my home with the sole aim of knowing the meaning of the word ‘puberty’ hoping that it would mean ‘handsome’ as that was what I told my friend when he asked me for its meaning. Those days I never said ‘I don’t know’. Too arrogant even then.:D<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">The sweet days we had, the best book to play book cricket and I once even scored a 200 with my Mariam.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">She was my first dumb bell, she was my stool to reach up on the Milkmaid shelf in the kitchen, she was the one who held my hand through many discoveries mostly teenage ones.:D<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">It was a safe haven for so many personal things of mine. It was the home of my feather collection. The secret abode of the news paper clipping and pictures I used to secretly cut from Malayala Manorama. The place I hid the PTA letter to my parents, the money I got from my grandfather, my favorite Kapil Dev card and so many things.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">There are still a few left over feathers from my old collection even now and take my word she still smells young and fresh.</span><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333300;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>It was such a great pleasure being with her because every time I opened her there was something in it for me to learn. The joy of finding a new word , unearthing its meaning ,trying out its pronunciations brought about such happiness in me that made me closer to her and that’s why the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">dictionary is not just an ‘IT’ for me ,but a ‘SHE’</span>.</i></span></span></span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-47797613797272291042010-03-26T05:52:00.000-07:002010-03-26T11:07:55.114-07:00Women’s Reservation bill -My take<p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#666600;">I was really in for it when the stalwarts of our democracy decided to flaunt the much hyped and the little bit controversial women’s reservation bill in both houses of the parliament earlier this month. Soon after this decision was made, there were hues and cries from all over the country, most staunchly defending and wooing for the bill while some openly crying against it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#666600;">In all my heart I hope that the bill would come into effect and that there would be the prescribed 1/3 reservation for women in parliament and all democratically elected bodies, but that’s what my heart wants and not what my demented little brain agrees to.<br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#666600;">So here I am just trying to put together the loads of crap that are running in my head regarding this issue. I might be called a MCP after this attempt of mine, but the truth being I really believe the women in our country deserves much more than a mere 33 % reservation.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000066;">1. My first issue is whether we want the participation of the women in the policy making of the parliament to be always restricted to 33%?<br />What I cannot make out is why just 33% and how did they come at this math?<br />Let’s say we have a women population of 47% and if the intention is to get a fair representation for women, then shouldn’t the reservation be 47%?<br /></span><br /></strong><span style="color:#000066;"><strong><span style="color:#330033;">2. Equality is one of the corner stone of our constitution though in reality it doesn’t exist in the least. The good intention of the bill is to bring about equality of sexes perceiving that a mere 33% women in the all the legislative assemblies would bring about a vast change in the gross inequality and injustice that our women are facing? For politically empowering women, the change has to start from the grass root level itself.<br /></span><br /></strong></span><span style="color:#663300;"><strong>3. If we have a reservation for women in the assemblies and not enough women in the grass root level of the political parties,a situation would arise where the women who would contest elections in those reserved seat be a mere puppet in the hands of the male leaders .It would lead to more RABRI DEVIs in the Indian political scenario than more MAYAWATIs or GAURI AMMAs.<br /></strong></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="color:#666600;"><span style="color:#000066;"><strong><span style="color:#663300;">We should initially make sure that there are women involved in the day to day activities of political parties or maybe a reservation system there where in number of women should be so and so percentage within the party itself. This would bring more capable ,socially motivated women into the mainstream and they would be able to bring about a change and empower politically, socially and economically deprived women than a hot shot, daughter/wife of a pot bellied political leader .</span><br /><br /></strong><strong><span style="color:#000000;">4. One of the staunchest arguments in support of this bill I have heard is that women could not do any worse off than the present horde of men making the policies. What kind of an argument even for the argument sake is that?<br />During my stint at working in a corporate environment and working alongside many women, I have seen that they are much better than their male counterparts in whatever they do even after taking care of hordes of personal things that we(men) cannot even imagine doing. If that’s the case, then y have a bill because women can’t do any worse and not because they can do wonders?<br /></span><br /><span style="color:#336666;">5. One of the biggest flaws inherent in the bill is the rotation of seats reserved .Let us consider a constituency reserved for women in the first tenure and the woman who gets elected does a great job for the people in that constituency .When the next election comes ,that particular constituency would not be a reserved one and hence the woman who has put so much of effort for the well being of constituency would very well be replaced by a male candidate because most political parties would not want to give seat for women other than the reserved ones. So that means the work the elected woman candidate does in her constituency wouldn’t do her any good as she would be forced to contest in another place the next time around.</span><br /><br /></strong></span></span><span style="color:#996633;"><strong>6. Legislators would not be elected based on merit if there is reservation ---This is one of the biggest criticism about the bill … I don’t think that is a big issue as 80% of the present lot in the parliament also don’t merit to be there in the first place but I sincerely hope the women who make it to the parliament would not be mere pushovers.<br /></strong></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#666600;">Even with all these issues, I hope the bill will go through .It may not bring about a whole lot of change that the women in our country deserve but it is something worth a try. Who knows, maybe it really can make a difference.<br /><br />This article is in no way an opposition to the proposed bill, instead its just a mere reminder that women empowerment should not just stop with a bill assuring reservation in the legislative assemblies but should be the first step for a broader ,visionary policy.</span></p>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-9972286373662575142010-01-29T11:46:00.000-08:002010-01-29T11:55:36.079-08:00Funny World<span style="font-family:times new roman;"><strong>And pin drop silence ensued. </strong><br />I could see my brother giggling trying his level best from bursting out .</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Father rushed out as if he left the button to destroy the world unguarded.<br />Mother was building up a small rage which clearly read <em>‘Don’t you have anything to study??</em> ’<br /><br />And off I was, banished to my room thereby scything off the regular 9-10 television time . </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><strong>So what did I do wrong ?? With the Social studies book wide open , I retraced the events that occurred in the last 3minutes</strong> .<br /><br />9:12 : <strong>Advertisement in tv</strong>: A guy walks to a medical shop ,seemed confused and reticent and finally blurts out stammering “<em><span style="color:#003300;">Couldd I haave a packkkk of mmm aaaa mmmmm…….”</span></em> </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />9:13: A young 11 year old lad watching the tv got more confused with the shy ways of the grown up man and blurts out “<em><span style="color:#003300;">Ayye,Why is he asking for a pack of cards in a medical shop ? Ask my dad ,he has got many…….</span></em> .”<br /><br />9:14: Silence ensues and proclamation of banishment.<br /><br />‘So what did this 11 year old lad do wrong to deserve the curtailment of the much anticipated entertainment time’ <em><span style="color:#660000;">the lad goes on thinking with Social studies book open</span></em>. </span>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-24872350859072027452010-01-18T09:22:00.000-08:002010-01-28T10:17:43.702-08:00O ye Luckyyyyyyyy<span style="color:#660000;">I am the luckiest person in the world............</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;">The toughest part in one’s life is taking the life altering decision of treading an unconventional path .It is the worst nightmare .You will draw the ire of your fellows, will have to yield to the endless flow of advices, will have to fight the demons of doubts inside you, will have to be brain dead with regard to your future and turn a stone before the predictors of your destiny.<br /></span><br /><span style="color:#660000;">Am I this tough??<br />Do I have it in me ??<br />Should I dare???<br /></span><br />When you look skywards during night, the stars smilingly urge you to fly towards your dreams. The light breeze fondling those happy stars seems to whisper in your ears to find your footing. Even the rustling leaves tell you to be happy and follow your heart.It seems like everything inside you yearns for a change.<br /><br />Even though torn in between the craving of my heart and the strings pulled by society I live ,I still consider myself as the luckiest person in the world.<br /><br />Who else in this world could boast the fortune of having ……<br /><br />A Father who listens to the weird things his son say and reply<br />“<span style="color:#006600;">I am not concerned about your future because I am confident in you .You will be good in whatever you do. Though I am not fully convinced with the path you are taking, but if this is what you want I will never say No.”</span><br /><br />A poor mother who tries to conceal her grief but fails miserably and mumbles..<br />“<span style="color:#006600;">If you would be happy there, go for it .I just want you to be happy</span>.”<br /><br />An enigmatic elder Brother who ensures that his younger sibling wont have to take any of the household responsibilities and reminds that the family would love to see him settled.<br /><br />Or your close buddy ,who just gives you a hand and say ,go live the life the way you want to . As long as I have a job, you don’t have to worry about finances.<br /><br />Or your jovial pal who calls you up from across the seas the moment he hears the news and goes on swearing at you for taking such a foolish decision and finally ends up imploring you to come over to his place.<br /><br />Or your sweet lovely cousin sisters who pacifies “<span style="color:#006600;">We are stuck up doing things we don’t like and we don’t want you to be like that .You go for it and we would be by your side</span>”<br /><br />With such great people around you and the confidence their words oozes in you ,you are never LONELY ,you are never <span style="color:#660000;">DEPRESSED</span> and you will always have the <span style="color:#660000;">WINGS</span> to fly.<br /><br /><span style="color:#660000;">Thankssssssssss a lot for not clipping my wings............................</span>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-80843271254240883392009-12-11T10:36:00.000-08:002009-12-11T11:03:50.083-08:00Mr KA beautiful day it is . Mr K puts on his hat and readies himself for his routine evening stroll.. It was past 4 ,but the heat was still unbearable ..He adjusts the brim of his hat ,turns around ,assesses the surrounding and takes long strides .<br />His leisurely saunter is occasionally interrupted by the unruly honking of the busy folks . He stops at the stone laid pathway leading to church for his customary bow to the angel of compassion.<br />He throws a casual glance sideways and finds the usual mother –baby duo there.<br />‘Worse off than yesterday’ ,Mr K recollects the faces from the previous day .<br />“I should do something, otherwise ….. ” .. Mr K thinks hard and harder …..<br />And Mr K walks away .......Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-84800370788391987572009-11-06T11:06:00.000-08:002009-11-06T11:11:59.992-08:00Travel MateI am this unlucky chap u know.<br />Everytime before boarding a train, I really pray that some gorgeous beauty would be my companion for the journey and I just go on imagining all those situations happening between us.<br />But as luck would have it ,I always get these middle aged aunties and uncles as co travelers, with their non ending array of these pointless questions about the company I work ,IT industry ,Job security ,pay check and all the boring things u don’t really want to answer. It’s a real pain, you know, the inquisitive, sad and compassionate look on their faces when I tell them about the insecurity in the industry or about the late working hours and all.. I mean Y should they feel miserable if I work for 12 hours a day!!!!!!!aagh what a world …..<br />Anyways that’s not the point here.<br />So as usual, it was with low hopes that I boarded the Shadabdti express that evening .I had the aisle seat, which is the worst seat you can get. That bloody seat just ensures that u will be hit by all the vendors, all the people testing their strength on handrail and those people on their way to rest room. I was this hapless hopeless man by the time I took my seat especially after noting that yet another 50 something uncle is my travel companion.<br /><br />I took out a Malayalam novel and decided to plunge directly into it without even an trace of cordiality so that the uncle would not even dare to ask “<em>Where are you going?”</em> .<br />I was in this half reading half sleeping mode ,when I heard a sweet voice gently pointing to my neighbor that he is in the wrong seat . The man was relieved to hear that I suppose, coz he seemed quite pleased to cease being my neighbor.<br /><br />I was exalted when she thanked me for helping her put the luggage in the rack, I was beaming with joy when she asked me where I was going and I was confused when she took the window seat and not the middle seat in which UNCLE was sitting. Questions start running amuck in my mind.<br /><strong>Why did she ask the UNCLE to move, if she was not going to sit in that seat?<br />Is she expecting anyone else?<br />Did she move to the window seat because there is no one in it now?<br /></strong>A hoarse voice interrupted my actively working grey cells which were trying to decode the window seat dilemma.<br /><br /><em>“Excuse me ,u r sitting in my seat .” ..</em><br /><br />Who said there is no GOD in this world ??? There is , and he was standing in front of me with a laptop bag on his hand , a stiffened collar and a train ticket in his hands which so clearly states that window seat is for him and him only and no one else ..<br /><br />God claimed his window seat and I threw away my Malayalam novel …<br /><br /><strong><em>It was time for serious thinking on how should I kick off a conversation with the sweet young thing ???<br />Where r u going???? ………Nooo ,that’s so plain and old stuff..<br />U studying?? ……..Naa ,she mite think I am flirting<br />Nice evening na??? …..yucks that sucks.<br />Hey I am so and so …… na too early to reveal my name ..</em><br /></strong><br />I was so immensed in formulating a game plan for the rest of my journey that I didn’t notice at all the guy who came near to me and I was so furious that he was intent on disturbing my concentration..<br />Okay sir ,wat is it that u want ????? wont u lemme enjoy the moment I had envisioned for so long ??i\I gulped down those questions and with a questioning smiling face enquired “Yes??”<br /><br />“<em>Do u mind moving to that seat?” </em>and pointing towards the sweet young thing said<em> “We are office mates and are travelling together.If its okay for u ,could you please ???? ”<br /><br /></em>Btw who said there is a benevolent GOD .If it all there is one hes a big time sadist for sure .<br />It was indeed time to go back to my only real travel companion ,THE NOVEL…..Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-18577120038738748332009-10-10T12:21:00.000-07:002009-10-10T12:25:09.345-07:00Bubble manThere he was, sitting on a sand dume on the lighted part of the beach with wind blowing across ..<br />He was the bubble man blowing bubbles.<br /><br /><em>Bubble man blows bubbles.<br />Foamy and frothy, these soap suds<br />Hovering in the air, blown away by the wind.<br />Bringing delight to the eyes and a smile on the lips.</em><br /><br />Children gather around the bubble man .To them it is their bubble uncle who just goes on making bubbles for them to chase .These bubbles always eludes the chasing little bundles of laughter ,however hard they run. They run back to the bubble man dejected unable to catch the wandering lather only to chase the next set of bubbles <strong>coz</strong><br /><em>Bubble man blows bubbles.<br />For children to chase .</em>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-7493574202041479392009-10-10T12:01:00.000-07:002009-10-10T12:04:21.213-07:00religionCame across a very interesting piece of information in the papers last day . It says ,there are about 2.2 million schools along the breadth of our beloved nation while there are 2.5 million places of worship (counting all the temples,mosques,churches,dharghas and all).<br />Aaaha 2.5 million!!!! That is an awful lot of religiousness in our country.Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-23602804091635603392009-04-13T10:56:00.000-07:002009-04-13T11:06:05.184-07:00My Musings<span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="color:#333300;">My Musings<br /><br />But wat?????<br /> Its true that I agreed to pen down something for this month’s Walgreens newsletter, but when the noose started to tighten , I was all at seas.<br />I mean I am supposed to write about the most boring movie I watched or best book I have read or something along that line. To be frank, I don’t want to relive those moments of watching a terrible movie nor do I want to strangle people with the reviews of some crazy book I read.<br /><em><span style="color:#3366ff;">So there pops the inevitable question, then wat???</span></em><br /><br />These thoughts were buzzing my grey cells as we gathered at Mother’s kitchen for our daily evening tea .(Don’t worry folks, it’s just a reastaurant inside the tehnopark campus and not really my mother’s kitchen. “J)<br />So as usual me being a non stop, nonchalant irritable tattler I was yakking on what to write ,when my tea buddy casually remarked.<br /><span style="color:#3366ff;"><em>“Why don’t you write about your favourite movie?”</em><br /></span>Aaaha bells rang, ideas clicked and there I was with a hot steaming tea cup visualizing the scenes of my favourite movie, aka the movie I have watched the most number of times .<br /></span><span style="color:#333300;"><em><span style="color:#003333;">“Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what u will get…”<br />“Stupid is what stupid does” (This is actually a stupid quote, but somehow I seem to like it . J)<br />“I am ……………”</span></em><br /><br /></span><span style="color:#333300;"><em><span style="color:#3366ff;"> “I think Shaw shank is a much better movie. You should write about it rather waste time on ….”</span><br /></em>My trance was broken by that statement from my Body builder friend.<br /><em><span style="color:#3366ff;">“What???? Shawshank better than ….aaaghhhh ”</span></em><br />Anyways, you folks know how conversation on such topics ends, right? So as to avert the consequence of a prolonged debate on such an issue, I decided to put forward the question to the most sensible guy in our group.<br /></span><em><span style="color:#3366ff;">“Editor, you have the prints of ‘Shaw shank and Forrest before you but can select only one .Which one would you prefer?”<br /></span></em><span style="color:#003300;">My confidence, my beliefs were all shattered in that particular moment when he replied</span> <em><span style="color:#3366ff;">“Shawshank any time”</span></em><br /><br /><span style="color:#003333;"><span style="color:#003300;">Actually I am not against Shaw shank by any means. In fact I consider it as one amongst the 10 best ‘Hollywood ’ movies ever made and am of the opinion that it would have bagged the best picture and the best actor Oscars if the year was not ‘1994’.<br /> Oh before I forget, I have said the same stuff about Pulp fiction also to some guys. By the way I like pulp fiction more than Shawshank. What a raw movie!!!!!<br /></span><br /></span><span style="color:#003300;">Okay coming back to the point, the year 1994 was all to blame. The ‘best of OSCARS’ year brought together three of the best Hollywood movies ever made , the gentle and inspiring Forrest Gump, the inventive and the brilliant Pulp Fiction, the simple and smart Shawshank Redemption into the limelight .<br />Each were a masterpiece on its accord and were well augmented by superb acting ,great screen plays ,innovative cinematography, amazing visuals and moreover masterful direction. In the end, red carpet was all Rober Zemerick’s, his Forrest Gump bagged six Oscars including best picture, actor, director and visuals. Shawshank and pulp were sidelined with just one Oscar for the ‘Tarantino’ thriller (best original screen play) and Shawshank returned empty handed. It sure created uproar as Pulp Fiction was considered as a big competitor for the Oscars and just one Oscar was like a disgrace for the trend setter of future action thrillers.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="color:#003300;">I started jotting all these down with the intention of coming up with ‘My take’ on my favourite movie “Forrest Gump”. But now on second thoughts I think I should not dare to do that . You would be well treated by a good movie review site rather than my incoherent ways of reviewing a movie and I definitely don’t want nyone to hate the movie because I favorably reviewed (read killed) it. J<br />So instead I would just put forward an outstanding scene/dialogue/qoute from each movie.<br /></span><br /><em><span style="color:#330000;">Forrest GUMP : the running scene<br />Scenario: Forrest is running across America and people start following him thinking he was running for a greater cause. The reporters swarm around him and push possible reasons down his throat.<br />: “Are you doing it for world peace?” “Are you doing it to fight hunger?” “Are you doing it for animals?”<br /> Forrest’s response is at once the most simple one. “I just feel like running.”</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#330033;">Shawshank redemption . Morgan Freeman’s dialogue towards the fag end of the movie.<br /> “I find I am so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it is the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain... I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope…...”</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">Pulp Fiction quote :Samuel L Jackson at his best<br /><br />“If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions.”</span><br /></em><br /><span style="color:#003300;">………………….<br />If you have not watched any of these three cult movies…My sincere request to you folks would be<br />.Run to the nearest shop.<br />Get the Cassetes/CDs/DVDs of these movies or download from ‘U know where’ and watch it . Please don’t miss some of the best movies of our generation.<br /></span><span style="color:#660000;">Run, Forrest, Run!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</span></span>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-91841203237985257562009-04-04T14:23:00.000-07:002009-04-04T14:30:21.283-07:00ChayaMukhi<em><span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#666600;"></span></em><br /><p><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#666600;">ChayaMukhi – An ode to Prasanth Narayanan</span></em></p><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><p><br /><span style="color:#666600;">Nobody watches dramas any more these days .Most people consider it as monotonous ,slow ,no gimmicks ,no innovation old stuff and hence in the process miss out some of the most beautiful works ever produced in any medium.</span><br /><span style="color:#666600;">Chayamukhi is one such a gem. Written and directed by Prasanth Narayanan ,a versatile artist with an ever probing intellect ,a talented writer and a crazy director,Chayamukhi takes the viewer to the realms and thoughts never traversed before. I am a big admirer of this great artist and its not just because he was my neighbor or because he was my Guru who taught me the basics of drama but because of the sheer brilliance of his literary skill. </span></p><p><span style="color:#666600;"></span><br /><span style="color:#666600;">The play is a fusion of the Mahabharata and the present world and the entire story is told and viewed through the eyes of three petty thieves who venture into the forest and witness certain events depicted in Mahabharata. </span></p><p><br /><span style="color:#666600;">The story starts with Hidumbi seeing the second Pandava prince Bheeman in te forest and falling in love with him .After some intimate days with Bheeman whom she loves no ends ,presents him with a mirror. ChayaMukhi, the magic mirror which shows the person you love the most when u looks at it. It was Hidumbi’s prized possession and all she could see in it was Bheemans face. Expecting to see hers on it when bheemasenan looks at it, she hands him over the mirror as a gift. But to her dismay, it was Panchali’s face that filled the mirror when Bheeman gazed at it and she resigns to the fate that Bheeman never loved her as much as Panchali.</span><br /><span style="color:#666600;">On returning to the Pandavas, Bhemaan hands over ChayaMukhi to panchali for safekeeping and asks her never to look at it. As days passed, Bheeman became more and more curious to know whether his face would appear if panchali looks at it .So one day he asks panchali to have a look at Chayamukhi and glistened the beautiful picture of the warrior prince Arjun. It shook him no bounds to learn that even while being with him, its Arjun whom Panchali always love and never him. </span><br /><span style="color:#666600;">As with the vanavsam, Pandavas always move him from one place to another and finally they come up in the VIrad kingdom. There Draupathi disguises herself and becomes the first mad to the queen of the Virad .One fine day, the queen sees Draupadi gazing at Chayamukhi. Intrigued by the mirror, she gets the mirror from Draupadi and looks at it. Instead of seeing the wrinkled, old and tired face of the king of Virad in the mirror, there appears the picture of a young man in the army.</span></p><p><br /><span style="color:#666600;">Time went by and entered Keechakan .He got fascinated with draupathi the moment he set eyes on her and decided to make her his wife. One day draupadi shows the mirror to keechakan and he sees a blank image on it .Confused, he realizes that he ahs never loved anybody In his life even though he have had many affairs. He realizes the biggest loss in life and changes instantly, he started loving draupadi with all his heart. As his love for draupadi grew ,she got afraid and tells bheemasensan about keechahan and they decided to kill him .Under some false pretext,Draupadi invites keehakan to her room where Bheeman was hiding. Severe fight ensues and meanwhile keechakan gets hold of the mirror and looks at it while getting beaten by Bheeman . The mirror displays the face of Panchali and bheeman gets stunned seeing it . He realizes that there is no difference between him and keechakan . They both are in love with Panchali and are ready to die for her while she is in love with some else . It seems to him that there fight is meaningless because whoever wins or whatever happens ,panchali is never going to love any of them . Nevertheless Bheeman somehow manages to kill Keechakan and finally crying throws the mirror to the ground,</span></span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#666600;">Chayamukhi shatters ……….</span></em></p>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-60482070336604608572009-03-29T12:17:00.000-07:002009-03-29T12:20:23.529-07:00Office Talkies<span style="color:#990000;">Now a day’s office is pretty fascinating. Long gone are those days where life was monotonous and everything was like a photocopy of the previous day with only issue s and pressure from the top level changing. But now it aint the same anymore. There is an automatic spring in my steps at the mere though of going to office.<br />It is no longer dull neither can It be termed boring and every single day has an element of surprise in it .<br />Last Monday it was the news of secretively kicking out people that hogged the limelight .By Tuesday names and numbers started to float around .Silent lips muttering secret prayers, offers to please the almightiness ,hope ,cynicism all were ripe. By Wednesday, rumors gave way to factual stories and more detailed screenplay .The time, the mode, the reasons, the aftermaths, the angry hues, the emotional tumults, the desperation, the sorry plight of the unlucky all became known to one and all. There were hushed voices all around in the pantries, in the restrooms, at the corridors everywhere and there were sighs all around for not being the numbered few. People were talking and discussing as never before and it seemed as if an invisible bonding has been generated. Developments continued as my watch struck 8:30 am on Thursday morning. Numbers were coming all over the country now and even from other Multi National Giants. No one bothered to check on the amount of fiction on this news; it just passed from one lip to another. By Thursday afternoon, an overwhelming gloom started to spread over the entire floor. Then came the news of resignations, the skirmishes at the HR’s room, security being called to intervene and control the frustrated lots. .It was no longer an environment to work and rather all were trying to gather gossips from here and there.<br />Everything kind of settled down by Friday evening, engineers went back to their normal monotonous jobs and more work to secure their bread and butter . Came afternoon and so the Facility departments mail. It was clear and crisp,<br /></span><span style="color:#990000;"><em>”NO more uncontrolled local calls from PSTN and VOIP folks .U guys are gonna get a password for it and every call needs will be preceded by afore mentioned password ”<br /></em>In short, it meant in addition to your movements, your printer usage, your overseas calls, your mail box we are goanna monitor your telephone usage also. I was pretty pumped up on seeing the mail . It opened up our lives, and now we are in a game, guessing what would be blocked next .<br />Wild ideas started to soar with my PA suggesting that the axe would fall on the communicator(official chat window) next.My peer’s opinion was that they would install doors that would only let you in and out on swiping ,an efficient way of getting the exact number of hours spent within the office .T hen there was this idea on the usage of vending machine limiting just 2 coffees for an employee. I was of the opinion of having a chair that would release you from its grips only after 12 hours of work .<br /><br />I mean, the point is its no longer boring ,its pretty exciting and innovative .Yesterday I went around saying to my project mates that secret closed circuit cameras and microphones are erected at meeting rooms and cubes and so be aware of what one say . I don’t really know how many people believed it but definitely hushed voices became more prominent after that. Take my word guys ,it is interesting ..<br />Just waiting for this weekend to get over so that I can continue being intrigued and engrossed by my employers.<br />It is indeed a funny life. </span>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-70427968502606534062008-12-12T12:12:00.000-08:002008-12-27T10:16:48.947-08:00Panama Sateeshan<span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;color:#330033;">When Govindan quit his job in the panama factory at Hydrebad and came to his village ,people affectionately started calling him Panama Goivindan.<br /><br />So it was quite obvious that when Govindan put up a stationary store at the village kavala(junction), it came to be known as panama store<br />As time passed and the store grew ,the junction changed so much that it demanded a name .. What else could be better name than Panama kavala?<br /><br />He was 7 when someone just said (just as in chumma said)<br />“ thenda pokunnu sateeshan ,nammude panamyude mone .” (“There goes our Panama’s son”)<br />"U didnt get who"<br />"Nammude panama sateeshan"(“Our Panama Sateeshan”)<br />The name spread like wildfire and Sateeshan became Panama Sateeshan to one and all.<br />Time flew ,Panama Sateeshan became interested in singing and had this crazy notion that he sang well.<br />He was so crazy that he went to learn music professionally and after 2 years of intense training he came back a changed young man (changed means physically changed and not ability wise.) .<br />A singer needs a platform to perform and Panam Sateeshan sayarted searching for the right company.<br />But as luck would have ,his own village had govindan kutty and gopalan panikkers orchestra. Two old hands in the field of ballet.<br />So was born G&G VOICE. With Panam as the lead singer and G&G at the helm of music.<br /><br />The connoisseurs of G&G VOICE left after their very frst show citing various reasons.<br />Govindan kutty “ I am too old for the these kind of stuffs” .,..<br />Gopalan panicker “ I wont play if Panama is the singer”<br />But people would swear by their ancestors that children cried continuously for two days after that firt G&G VOICE show.<br />The instruments left G&G VOICE with the real G&G. But it was not enough to dent the spirit of the great Panam Sateeshan.<br />That day he made a vow<br />”Be there an instrument or not, I would continue singing”<br />He collected tracks of hit songs and lured some young school going lads to join him..<br />and hence G&G VOICE was reborn.<br />Folklore say that whenevr there is a ‘utsavam’(yearly festival) in the nearby temple ,Panama goes there and gives money as donation to the committee members but on one condition<br />“MY G&G VOICE should be allowed to play one night”<br />Gradually it became a norm...<br />No utsavam would be there without a Panama song !!!!!!!<br />People dwindled as the shows went on.<br />When he sung Hemesh Reshamiyya’s song for the first time ,there was a saying amongst the villagers that their dogs howl better.<br />But Panama was not the type to be affected by that ..<br /><br />He would sing irrespective of what others had to say about him ..Once he even sang the same song 6 times continuously in front of the only audience(hapless committee members amounting to 5)<br />All the committe members hado to make him sing 6 times the same song was the dialogue </span><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;color:#330033;">"COMMONNN PANAMA ..ONCE MOREEEEE"<br />If there is a marriage in the village ,there would be Panama at the forefront saying<br />"wat marriage is this?Marriage without music is like a meadow without grass"<br />He would go get amplifier, microphone and loud speaker from his home and sings free of cost ...Its true that people leave as soon as he starts ,but anyways you need people to clear out those duffer brains who lingers even after the party is over<br />Panama dont like budding singers like Afsal,Vinneth ,vijay and all<br />He is of the old school and will sing only SPB ,hariharan ,yesudas etc and his customary dialogue is “let my boys sing songs of small time singers, I will handle the tough songs: PANAMA became old but the G&G VOICE still exists and everytime utsavam comes ,Panama goes to committee office with a small bundle of notes in his hand and says<br />" THIS is my donation provided, ...................................................."<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;color:#330033;"></span>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-45248105898357231662008-11-15T10:55:00.000-08:002008-11-15T11:01:56.511-08:00TO DO LIST<span style="color:#666600;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><em><em>• A trip to the Himalayas with my two close buddies. A whole week of trekking. A full throttle adventure trip .Mountains and forests.<br />• A soul searching trip through India with INDIAN RAILWAYS.<br />• A trackside seat for the first ever Indian Grandpre.<br />• To watch Arsenal play MAN united at the Emirates stadium.<br />• Bye to my present job. Free lancing would be perfect.<br />• TISS<br />• To take my niece (hope it would be) to my favorite beach and play with her in the sea.<br />• Break open the nose of THE TOUGHIE with just one punch.<br />• Sing ‘Allah Ke Bandhe ’ in front of a crowd and yet not get killed.<br />• Take my Amma to all the places she want to see.<br />• To live alone in a 1BHK house with a small garden.<br />• A BIG collection of books.<br />• Entire collection of DOSTOVESKY.<br />• To be in the pit garage of Ferrari.<br />• To watch 100 of the best movies ever made.<br />• Direct a play.<br />• Live in Mumbai.<br />• Unshaven for a year.<br />• Walk around with a pony tail for a day.<br />• Ride a horse as fast as I could and reach some unknown place.<br />• Hike rides and travel to places I don’t have a ക്ലൂ about<br />• Unlimited fun day with P<br />• Go for a long long walk with C at Mumbai.<br />• Bungee jumping and Sky diving.<br />• Photography unplugged.<br />• Own entire Calvin and hobbes collection.<br />• A night out In my favourite beach with the stars .<br />• To have S*X<br />• And finally a ‘no return’ Jump into the sea when she is at her fury best.</em></em><em></em></span></span></span>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-39312377329768938362008-11-08T09:44:00.000-08:002008-11-08T10:23:42.007-08:00AjithaOn the night of November 24 1968, a group of sixty determined to change the world, ran over a plice station in the front of Western Ghats .One of them was a girl,young enough to be a senior secondary student .The group hacked to death a wireless opertaor,fatally wounded an inspector and then went on to distribute the hoarded wealth of feudal lords who had made slaves of tribal women and men,trading them in village fairs and binding them in perpetual debt .They were declared dacoits by th emedia,the young woman's photograph was splashed everywhere as a warning and also to help law abiding citizens to give her up.Soon the people for whomthey had started the revolution got hold of a few of them including the woman.Police men raining blows on her asked her to shed her saree an her woolen pullover .in the courtyard of the local police station ,on a raised platform where the police men hoist the national falg, they paraded the teenager in her blouse and trousers which she was wearing under her saree. They called out to the huge crowd and said "This is how she roamed around the forests with men ",thus pronouncing here a whore .With police men alla round her laughing,adusing and prodding the crowd ,she stood next to the flag staff trembling,helpless,yet undefeated .She glared at the horizon from where her sun failed to rise.<br /><br /><br /><br />Stop to think and think not to stop.The zeal in us is never to be lost.Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-3191106872676923162008-10-31T12:03:00.000-07:002008-11-01T10:57:03.586-07:00I MAY BE WICKED, BUT STILL I GAVE AN ONION"I MAY BE WICKED, BUT STILL I GAVE AN ONION"<br /><br />This is taken from the work of a great man , the writer and the master in human psychology 'Dostovesky'.There is a story based on this quote but before I dwell on to that, let me take you through the life of the great master.<br />Dostoevsky was a nihilist and an atheist early in his life, but as time flew and his hair turned gray, he realized the voidness of nihilism or rather atheism in general. He grew more and more interested in religion. He wanted people to know the virtuous side of religion and illustrate that <em>a person who has done wrong only needs to take one small step in the direction of goodness to be rewarded with a cascade of love and forgiveness in their lives</em>.<br />With an abusive and a drunkard father, a body prone to epileptic fits, moments of insanity ,imprisonment ,dices with death, gambling craze and utter poverty, life was no cake walk for Dostoevsky .He struggled all through out ,till he drew his last breath. Those sufferings and torments gave him a clear thought process and made him a profound thinker.<br />He spent a good share of his life in the Siberian prison. He summed up his days in prison in a letter to his brother.<br />"<em>In summer, intolerable closeness; in winter, unendurable cold. All the floors were rotten. Filth on the floors an inch thick; one could slip and fall...We were packed like herrings in a barrel...There was no room to turn around. From dusk to dawn it was impossible not to behave like pigs...Fleas, lice, and black beetles by the bushel..."</em><br /><br />It was after the prison days that he became a serious writer. Through his literary works he became a psychologist who dissected the behavior of the so called homo sapiens .People were afraid to hear what he said or what he wrote and they were undoubtedly not ready to accept it ,because he made them bow with shame .He tore off their masks and stripped them nude in front of themselves. He made them realize how vile they are ,how miserable they are and how great life is. <br /><br />Okay enough of Dostoevsky .Lemme get back to the story behind the quote.<br />There was a woman who never did anything pious in her whole life. She was an old miserable wretch who made life impossible for people around her with her wicked and selfish ways. So when she died, the devils threw her into the lake of fire in hell. Her guardian angel tries to think of one good deed of hers to tell God and save her from the tortures of hell, and recalls that once she pulled up an onion and gave it to a beggar. <br />God after hearing the angel, asks him to take that same onion and offer it to her. If she takes hold of it and the angel can pull her out with it, she can go to paradise, but if the onion breaks, she must stay in the lake of fire. <br />The angel offers the onion, the woman grabs it and he pulls carefully. Just as she was about to be pulled out completely, the other sinners in the lake hold onto her so that they can be pulled out with her. The woman as the person she is ,kicks them away, telling them that it is her onion, not theirs. At that moment, the onion breaks and the woman falls back into the lake, where she remains even now.<br /><br />Situation: This is a story told by a sinned woman (some what a prostitute) to a young man of faith in front of a vile and a cunning careerist..<br /><br />I didn’t really like the story as such and I personally don’t like the concept at all, but I liked the quote really very much .For those who are wondering why am I writing all these bull shit and sentences that doesn’t make any sense , all I can say <em>"THIS IS MY BLOG FOLKS .I CAN WRITE ANY PEICE OF SHIT I WANT.,,,,,hahahhahaha "</em>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-78420897609523656062008-10-26T14:23:00.000-07:002008-10-26T14:30:22.690-07:00Hero<em><span style="font-family:verdana;">“Why do these guys take so long?”<br />That was going through my mind as I was standing in front of the restaurant waiting for my parcel so that the eight bowels waiting anxiously back home could be satiated. </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />It was 8 30 in the evening and the wide, well tarred Manacaud road immersed in the yellow light of the overhead neon lamps was at its busy best.<br />All of a sudden a police jeep screeched in front of me ,swerved ,drew a semi circle on the road and braked heavily with a loud squeak in front of a KSRTC bus teemed with passengers. The poor hapless bus driver was taken by surprise but nevertheless he too braked at the right time to avoid crashing into the Blue vehicle of justice.<br /><br />The entire street stood watching for it was like some scene directly plucked out from the action flicks of Suresh Gopi.<br />The driver of the jeep, a well built man in his late twenties with a uniform clinging on to his torso and with busting biceps jumped out of the vehicle and walked briskly towards the rear of the bus. He then gets hold of the last guy who was standing on the footboard by his collar and slapped him left and right .It was followed by the next guy and the next and next .I really lost count midway ,but I did get the chance to improve my vocabulary on swearing . Such were the impact of those profanities that I knew at once my immense knowledge at this field was worthless before the master.<br />Seriously, this guy was so good .(How do these guys always update with new and new words? Oww Man, gems they were, wish I had a pen and a paper with me . :-( )<br /><br />Our hero then punched a couple of them on their back and then pushed and shoved all those teenagers into the bus and ensured that they reached the front of the bus .Needless to say that all these were accompanied by the above said NICE words at regular intervals .<br />But the real icing on the cake was his last dialogue.<br />“If I catch anyone of you standing on the footboard again ,consider that it would be the last time you will be STANDING on anything,”<br />Standing tall, straightening his collar, he calmly walks back to his jeep, gets in and Vrooommmmmmmmm.<br /><br />The impact was stupendous, people stood by the sidewalks in awe and undoubtedly with eyes showering respect.<br />As for me I couldn’t help myself admiring that guy and I am damn sure that if were part of the fairer sex,I would have fallen heads over heels for him.<br /><br />It was when I collected my parcel, that the shop keeper candidly remarked “He is Suresh, the new Sub Inspector and we fondly call him SURESH GOPI”</span></em>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-68286229500936954742008-06-25T11:04:00.000-07:002008-06-25T11:09:05.730-07:00Adventure<p><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#666600;"><em>Its indeed a thin line between being adventurous and just being plain stupid .<br /> It was the maddening rain that prompted our 24 year old bodies tired after a long gruesome day of being software engineers into the adventurous mode. The mere thought of rain on our faces and cold wind on our hairs propelled us to ride on our bikes in that heavy rain. So we started our 20 kilometer ride back home with no helmets ,no rain coats and nothing but our two well oiled machines with a very interesting history of failed brakes.<br /> Rain bring songs to the heart, retracing the old melodies and re-creating the feeling of being close to the nature. So we continued our journey in that near zero percent visbility night ,battling the heavy and painful raindrops and cold winds with old songs on our lips and small beautiful lights in front of us .<br /> The first thing I could make out in that muddy pool was that those beautiful lights were from a eight wheeled monster and that it had with utmost compassion drove us into the mud pile by the side.Brave are those who face adversities with head held high .We thought we were brave and a lorry was not going to dent our courage .Inspite of the slight bruises we had, we decided to act brave (foolish).You know what,it always works in movies.<br />The lorry ordeal did shake us and forced us change gears to circumspect mode .To accompany the rising fear inside the ‘acting brave’ comrades,there was this strong wind making it difficult to even keep the eyes open.<br />This time we were not drawn into any puddle by monster trucks ,but found ourselves a way into a water pool. If lady luck smiled on us the last time then this time she didn’t give a damn. Anyhow we had no more doubts regarding the rest of the journey because a broken silencer filled with water cleared it all for us. </em></span></p><ul><li><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#666600;"><em>Seven was the number of kilometers we had to push our bikes in that bloody rain to reach home .</em></span></li><li><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#666600;"><em>Two was the no of hours it took. </em></span></li><li><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#666600;"><em>Three was the number of flying squads that stopped us to check whether we were anti social elements.</em></span></li><li><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#666600;"><em>One was the number of thousands it took to repair our bikes.</em></span></li><li><span style="font-family:lucida grande;color:#666600;"><em>Infinity was the number of times we swore at each other that night for taking that idiotic trip <br /><br /></em></span></li></ul>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-18179132522624060572008-06-20T12:34:00.000-07:002008-06-20T12:35:30.665-07:00Wailing Idiot<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>We always let time do the trick for us. We wait and wait with the perseverance of a cat for the right time hoping it will erase all the awful memories and everything else.We anticipate that the time will bring a tide so strong that it will carry us to cheerfulness and brightness leaving behind the dreadfulness. We do nothing except the waiting.</em></span>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-62313676275215924302008-06-20T12:27:00.000-07:002008-06-20T12:29:54.869-07:00<em><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">I am now treading along a fallow path . I stutter and stammer like a toddler on his maiden journey. But still I didn’t give up. How could I give up when there are expectations upon me, responsibilities on my shoulder and moreover unfinished business. When tiredness creeps into my soul and immobilizes my legs, it is the thought of things to do that keeps me moving.</span></em>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-8973474408207924562008-06-20T11:15:00.000-07:002008-06-20T11:19:26.762-07:00Dasavatharam-The story of disappointment<p><em><span style="font-family:georgia;">2 hours in the queue to buy the ticket and another hour long queue to get into the theatre bought me a seat ,just a spitting distance away from the screen in the cramped Ajantha theatre.But hey ,wats three hours of standing and infinite pushing and swearing at complete strangers compared to a second day ticket for the hugely hyped,highly awaiten movie DASAVATHARAM.That was my mindset when I rested my buttocks for the first time in three hours in that uncomfortable seat.</span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-family:georgia;">Three hours later , I left that mess of a theatre with a daunting back pain and infinitely small bug bites all over my body and moreover and most importantly with a heavy ,sad heart coz my favourite actor of all times failed me big time.I couldn’t believe the fact that such an immensely talented script writer could go so awry with a headless plot,such a wonderful technician would give his thumbs up to such a third class special effects and that the multi talented actor could go for a movie with the sole aim of creating a world record and nothing else.One too many waste characters and an irritating chiruppy ASIN with seriously questionable acting skills didn’t add one bit for the grace of the movie. Cinematography was good but the specials effects ruined that feel good factor also”.</span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-family:georgia;">The only people who didn’t disappoint me in the movie was kamal the actor in some roles and Hemesh Reshamiyya ,the music director.Hemesh was at his usual best with soul less songs,boring tunes and irritating music and that was what I exactly expected from him. JAnd kamal the actor was simply stunning in his portrayal of 12 century priest ,the fumbling CBI officer and as the terrorist .Rest of his characters were simply forgettable .</span></em></p><p><em><span style="font-family:georgia;">At the end of the movie ,I felt hugely disappointed for this is not one expects from the king of indan cinema.</span></em></p>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3199798727976567655.post-66566069733706692752008-03-11T06:01:00.000-07:002008-03-11T06:05:50.859-07:00Kick off<em><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;color:#999900;">Its better late than never .So gonna kick off in style .</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:85%;color:#999900;"></span></em>Dufferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08858414970187527559noreply@blogger.com1