<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631</id><updated>2012-01-29T13:52:03.037+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The un-ending void</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-1474995880384203193</id><published>2009-06-02T12:17:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-02T19:27:38.107+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Red Medal</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Lightning rips open the heart of the sky and rain falls like dark blood on the deserted streets… A lonely figure walks on nonchalantly, in a trance… in a blurry of visions and memories… in an illusion of fate!! Rain seems like hot bullets fired from the rifle, searing through his senses… blinding him…burdening him with those memories he longed to forget…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;He opened a bottle of Jack Daniels, and poured himself a large peg of scotch, his sole companion for the night. Partly because of his training as a NSG commando and partly because of all the time he spent on his various missions he was more comfortable with darkness than the day light… Day light leaves no room for cover; he was out in open … exposed! He stood there at the verandah of the hotel room overlooking the sea. Out in front he could see some distant lights in the sea, but he wasn’t sure what they were because of the distance. The tempest raged with all its might, as if showing off how powerful it was. He switched off the lights and sat out there in darkness, watching the city scuttling away in the storm like those little bastards he gunned down from the chopper during his missions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“…Major Avasthi led the team in this mission…and thanks to his and his team’s valor today we have slain one of the most wanted terrorist of the last two decades…Abu Hamaz! They hunted him down in his own lair at an undisclosed location on the western borders. Of a team of seven, three lost their lives and three were seriously wounded. We lament on the loss of the three brave….” And the flashes of light! Major Avasthi stood there, tensed, nervous, alert, depressed.... Journalist and camera men surrounded him and his team mates… “How do you feel Major Avasthi being hailed as the hero of the nation?”… “Major Avasthi…Are you going to retire after this?”… “Major Avasthi… Are you going to act in the next movie by Ram Gopal Verma based on your mission? Are you considering any brands to endorse?”… “Major Avasthi…Do you believe Abu Hamaz deserved to die? Do you think…?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;He checked his gears as they approached the drop point… he was ready! “All right boys… keep your eyes open… stick to the plan… don’t shoot each other… by the way a bottle of Jack Daniels to whoever kills that son of a bitch”… they clapped their hands together…gave out a medieval war cry and sat back as the pilot started a countdown before they were clear to jump...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;They had lost their cover… the guard over the post wasn’t dead completely and rang the alarm… From a distance Avasthi and his men could see the flurry of activities inside the house… they didn’t have much time… there were at least 20 well trained assassins in the house…bravo team called in first…they needed back up from alpha and Charlie… they were going in! Avasthi knew it was a suicidal move…but then … it was war… It was madness! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Sounds of automatic rifles filled the night… bravo was down… and Charlie was just managing to hold up against the guys from the roof…he needed to move in.. he needed to move in real fast…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;There was a deadly silence across that deserted field…you could very barely make out the humming of choppers at 10000 feets… there was one last room in front of Avasthi…there was 1 door and few bullets between Abu Hamaz and his death… the intelligence had been right about Abu Hamaz, but it was wrong about the number of dogs he had kept to guard him…and it had already cost him 2 men…may be more… he took out the pin of the grenade and with one swift movement pushed the door and threw it inside…. the flash grenade blinded everyone inside…there was a white light and lot of smoke… Avasthi charged in with Lieutenant Singh…firing…cursing…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Just after the press conference, Minister of defense invited him and his team to a dinner he had throw at his place in their honor. He told them how much he revered their courage, their sacrifice to this country and how this young generation needed to take lessons from him and his men... they should be the role model s of new India- fearless, strong and keepers of peace! In truth, he just wanted few snaps clicked with them, so that he can appear on the front page of next day’s newspaper. Elections were just round the corner, publicity never hurts…good publicity…well that’s God sent! He moved around the party like a zombie, smiling at everyone, posing for snaps, drinking to his friends who had lost their lives… drinking to their fate and a life or whatever was left of it… even answering some of the stupid question of various guests- were you scared? How did you feel when you killed him..?... How did he feel?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;He changed the magazine of the rifle. He couldn’t believe that he was really there… the most wanted…feared terrorist was in the next room, with probably a dozen of other terrorists, with their Kalashnikovs trained at the very door he was going to push in…death was inevitable…this was a failed mission…he came so close…but! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Lieutenant Karan was breathing heavily next to him… they looked at each other…they recognized the fear in each other’s eye…and then he smiled! Their lives didn’t matter if they can’t kill him today… their death will not save Abu Hamaz today…his team mates are not going to die in vain…it will probably kill him…but he wasn’t afraid…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;In the white flash they rolled in two grenades…blinded by the light terrorist fired at random… they didn’t see the two hand grenades which were thrown in. It was like a orchestra at work…just when the rifles had reached a crescendo, the two bombs went off in sync…and a second later two INSAS rifles joined the choir from the door… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Avasthi didn’t miss…he was born for this… for this day… to avenge the man for his guilt… to punish him…to kill him!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;The boy was standing in the corner…his mother at his feet holding a Kalashnikov,bleeding to death….Abu Hamaz, dead on the other corner…couple of other … here and there…the boy was scared…but he didn’t cry…he was looking at him in the eye… he was memorizing the face he would hunt down when he was old enough…he wasn’t crying he was laughing…mocking …. Avasthi shot him in the head! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;The boy lay on the ground; his cheeks were wet with tears…his last words were, in broken English, - please don’t kill me! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;He filled another drink! Rain hadn’t stopped for last 3 hours… it’s all been so silent except for the rain…like that night on their way back…the silence was unbroken except for the sound of the chopper blades. The boy’s face kept coming back to him…his tear soaked face…those alive eyes. He took out his medal and held it out in his hand…that glistening silver medal looked so beautiful. There was another glimmer of metal in the rain…of the berretta in his other hand…and a final shot! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;But when all this is over…wars won…heroes returned…villains newly found…who cares for those medals…those medals soaked in blood! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-1474995880384203193?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/1474995880384203193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=1474995880384203193&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/1474995880384203193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/1474995880384203193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2009/06/red-medal.html' title='The Red Medal'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-5722672090277079543</id><published>2009-05-10T19:55:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-10T21:00:38.942+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Of Darkness and Liberation</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;A dark night… a lonely road… a fast car… and a shot of madness in his head…. He drove! In the short sighted visibility of the car head lights, he rested his faith and luck…anything beyond was darkness and unknown… anything beyond was approaching him at 120 kmph speed but he didn’t know if it was an open road or wall of stone… but he drove! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;It was a dark night… no stars in the sky…a lonely moon giving shapes and forms to the expanding darkness that surrounded him. He was scared. He shot furtive glances towards those shapes… he didn’t know what they were and he didn’t know what to expect….There was a constant sound… a snarl… a giggle… a playful demeanor….someone was there …someone watching him…. Someone toying with him and his fate… a much mightier force …and he was his object of play for that night. He was scared!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;A pair of brilliant balls of fire fast approached him from the opposite direction…some company at last! Starved of any company... unconsciously he drove towards them…positioning himself almost on the collision course. As if even the brief moment for which that truck will pass right next to him he will feel some level of companionship… which he will store…savor for the rest of the journey. As the those pair of lights came nearer, he realized that that they were just too bright for him to handle… he couldn’t be on his own anymore… he lost his view of the road… he lost control...he was going for a head on collision…and for all those long micro seconds … he knew.. but he couldn’t move…he had accepted that collision as a collateral for that companionship…. He had given up! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-spacerun:yes"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Truck swerved at the last second… sparing his life! And for those seconds … and many more following them, blinded as he sat...he was lost in his dreams. He dreamt of himself as a child… his parents… his friends… his home… of the mango tree in the courtyard…and the fields beyond … and the hills and river beyond them all… he felt so small…. He felt so much at home… he was at peace! Another car honked and whizzed past him… he was awake! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;A soul burdened with failures… expectations un-met… promises un- kept…and all those things it hadn’t come to terms with… felt too heavy for him to carry…but then in that instant… in that sudden flash of light …when he thought he was dying he met another him… the unburdened him… where he wasn’t the centre of the world… when he had hopes and dreams bigger than those hills beyond… when his mind was as open as those huge fields… when his life was more than an appraisal report... when he was alive!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'lucida grande';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;A hint of light filled up the sky… a warm glow of a distant hope… and suddenly the darkness surrounding him was washed with muted colors… revealing their identity...he wasn't scared anymore! He could see, on his right, the river now… beautiful pristine blue… it twisted and turned playfully around the bends… jumping with joy and energy...and he felt.. his life wasn’t such a waste after all… he wasn’t so lonely after all… there was more to him than he has made out to be….than what people expect of him. There was so much more to do... there are so many dreams to chase... there were so many more lives to live and then in that instant... he was liberated! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-5722672090277079543?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/5722672090277079543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=5722672090277079543&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/5722672090277079543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/5722672090277079543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2009/05/of-darkness-and-liberation.html' title='Of Darkness and Liberation'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-6316287433730028572</id><published>2009-02-18T00:37:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-23T21:44:01.353+05:30</updated><title type='text'>D' Shining....</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;This is a tale of a certain young gentleman, unlikely of his age, who revelled in his wisdom and charm, while his hairs rebelled having to stay so close to the absolute source of “sheer awesomeness” (next only to the great Kung Fu Panda). Tales of his exploits are travelled far and wide, and has amazed from stud-most to dud-most. For the sake of your safety and mine, we will here after refer to him as ‘The D’ (people have turned blind-reading, deaf-hearing, dumb-saying his name, apart from other awesome-active reactions)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;These were the times, when The D after having left the hallowed portals of XLRI, had joined a certain extremely well reputed FMCG company of US origin [US economic crisis was a caused when The D walked into Walls Street during one of his afternoon extra-body time travels… and the financial markets collapsed by coming so close to him]. These were the days when he wasn’t the magnificent…the ultimate…‘The D’...he was just an ordinary…nice…kind hearted…sweet… ‘D’. He hadn’t come in terms with entirety of awesomeness in him, and was in the process of self discovery like the time travel. On a Wednesday, when D decided to give his laptop for platform up-gradation, and having stayed till 10 pm on the last 2 days, decided to take an early leave from office, at 4 pm. So D bid his colleagues goodbye, while their hearts burned, he embraced the warmth of the sun on his face. There was a certain change in the surroundings… he knew…but couldn’t see. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;As he reached Grant Road Station, he met a certain ASM of Mumbai Metro, who was quite taken aback by our hero’s early departure…but the most benevolent D explained- “Arre, laptop to ISD ko dediya upgrade karne ko…abhi bina laptop ke main kaam kaise karunga [an evil grin, sheepishly ran across his face, hoping not to disturb the rest of the face]…so leaving early…..”. D noticed the certain change in the faces of people standing nearby, but engulfed by the joy of leaving early, he paid no heed to them and continued in the his flow…till he turned his head and saw him….new MD of his company was standing right next to him!!!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;D was torn apart in the flurry of emotions…sorrow… pain…regret…distress…. “How could I do it..?” he asked himself…and like the dying Neo in The Matrix, he refused to believe that he has been shot- point blank! And just when it seemed all hope were lost…hearts nearly broken (…Trinity about to kiss)…D entered a barber shop- he decided to free his hairs of the mortal bondage forever… he decided to get a clean shave… on his head! And when he emerged … the world for a second had 2 suns…one in sky…one in Mulund! People fell down on their knees…guarding their eyes from D’s awesome-emitting new look… he was unveiled…he was reborn…he became… ‘The D’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Several cases of blinded by awesomeness have been reported since in Mumbai… those were the times when ‘The D’ was distracted for nano’eth of nano second. Valentine’s Day have been renamed as ‘I wanna be with The D’ by girls…and ‘We seek your permission to hate you The D’ by certain underground guy’s group. There are other changes underway…but while that happens our very own ‘The D’ still chills out in that company (humble isn’t he)… while the company has issued special ray-ban glasses and awesome-resistant suits to all its employees. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;We would have liked to conclude this blog…but as per special guidelines issued by Supreme Court… like ‘The D’…his tales are never to be concluded…they just stop when ‘The D’ wants it to….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-6316287433730028572?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/6316287433730028572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=6316287433730028572&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/6316287433730028572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/6316287433730028572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2009/02/d-shining.html' title='D&apos; Shining....'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-3369957167188272361</id><published>2008-11-18T01:36:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-18T01:40:21.821+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes, I wonder....</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Sometimes, often on a sunny day, a bunch of clouds comes and blocks out the sun, even if only for a while…and the world around you changes! Sometimes this change causes a certain relief… you wipe off the sweat take a deep breath, let the breeze fall flat on your face…enjoy the those small moments of calmness and even if for few moments feel relieved from your day to day headaches. But sometimes it’s different. Its like waking up from a dream and realising that things are changing…have changed…and you are left with a sinking feeling in your stomach which you might have felt before the exams you were not prepared for. There is so much left to do!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The day Saurav retired was one such occasion! (Now am sure you were expecting something little deeper than this…but bear with me!) In our day to day job, we often lose the time, in the sense we don’t realise how time has gone by…that’s why engineering college just seems like a matter of yesterday…school in Kolkata…last week…Patna….last month maybe! And then one of these days you realise ….its been a long time since! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The T.V. at my home in Patna was 11 months younger to me. Those times colour T.Vs had just been launched in Patna, and my dad got a brand new Telerama Colour T.V. And that is why a lot of my early childhood memories consist of … Karamchand, Vikram aur betal, Football world Cup ’90 (for me it used to be yellow vs stripes and not Brazil vs Argentina), Wimbledon….etc. My conscious entry to the world of sports that is by the time I had started playing cricket etc and started understanding the game, kind of coincided with the entry of Sachin and Kambli. Being a left handed batsman myself my favourite was Kambli while my best friend, Amit’s (yeah…back then it was a rule to have best friends!) who was right handed, Sachin! In a matter of a year or two, I changed loyalties however. Let me give you a slight bit of insight about Bengali mentality- education is a must! ...higher the better…it doesn’t matter if you are the king of the world…but if you are a college drop out…too bad, lad!…you aren’t good enough. So Kumble and Sreenath in a way chastised cricket as a sport in my family… they were engineers after all! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I have never really been a die hard fan of anyone, ever… I mean, it’s not that unless its Amir Khan’s movie, I won’t watch a Bollywood movie…but cricket somehow condensed to a single entity- Sachin! The way he demolished bowlers was nothing less than watching Stallone taking on a Vietnamese platoon on his own in Rambo-II. I remember, those days if anyone asked me a synonym of devil, I would have said- Courtney Walsh, Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis…’cause somehow they bowled those perfect out-swinging good length deliveries, or those in-swinging Yorkers, which used to catch my hero off-guard, and would stop him from another century or India from another win. People can talk about team game and all but back then Sachin carried the fate of the team, except on those odd days when someone else stood up and took the lead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Then came a left handed batsman, who at least on the off-side “was next only to God!”… Saurav Ganguly. Of course being a bong myself, I have more than one reason of being extremely proud of him, but the reason I was really proud of him was…he was the only batsman in the last decade and half, who was a worthy companion of Sachin on the pitch...who even in all the brilliance of the little genius had his own aura…who made the bowlers soon realise that Sachin was not their only worry…in some cases much worse! I had never before seen a pace bowler of the stature of Shaun Pollock being so rudely mocked at…when he stepped out nearly half way down the pitch and hit him for a six over long on…or for that matter any spinner worth his name, in similar disdain, over mid-wicket. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Together and individually, they have crushed several bowling attacks, given several bowlers nightmares (quite literally)… raised sand storm on the field (Sharjah Cup, Finals)… mocked British hypocrisy right in their holy grail of cricket (Lords, Natwest Series Finals)…while I enjoyed every moment of it...tried to emulate them on field (don’t even compare…it’s a sin!)…prayed for them (more than I ever did for my IIT entrance exam)…sat on my couch in same position for hours at end, because that was lucky for them…jumped around with that pure exaltation of having achieved something amazing…as if their success was my own!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And now I will see them no more on field…through the time, I had kind of taken their presence for granted…how much ever we criticised their form, performance…age…I hadn’t prepared myself for their final departure. Ganguly’s retirement, as I said, was a harsh wake up call…a sure sign of the departure of my childhood heroes…of a change I have seen happen over the years but never really accepted… of a realisation that –“Dude! You are no more a college going student…you are no more safe from the worldly headaches…there are no more safe havens…You are on your own…Are you really up to it?”… I don’t have any pre-rehearsed answer for this…but so far things look nice…kind of promising…We won the first two matches against England…We should win this series…things are good for now…may be this will last a little more… by the time get used to the change…to the absence of my heroes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-3369957167188272361?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/3369957167188272361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=3369957167188272361&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/3369957167188272361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/3369957167188272361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2008/11/sometimes-i-wonder.html' title='Sometimes, I wonder....'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-1082252354243594006</id><published>2008-11-06T17:24:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-07T10:34:41.892+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Life is full of tough choices!</title><content type='html'>Since, probably the beginning of human race (ahem!)…there has been A “to be and not to be” kind of issue which has kept the best of minds of this race of Homo-Sapiens… (Read B-school grads) wondering…. Sales or marketing!!??? I don’t claim to be an exception. So after I got placed in this extremely well reputed FMCG company (don’t ask how I managed it…), I spent several sleepless nights pondering over this issue, without much help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally I joined the company and started with my sales stint. It was, well as bad as its oft rumored…but as it turned out…its awesome in several ways, which are not so often spoken about. But more of that later…. So you see my dilemma here… I went through my sales stint not hating it…in fact… I daresay liking it! Next ... it was marketing stint’s turn… and well as expected…actually somewhat unexpected too… it started with a bang…here are some of the excerpts…judge for yourself…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 1: Catching up on gossips and rumors (and they say…oohh! We have so much work…yeah rite!!!)…. Suddenly a someone said from the corner, “do you know who was seen roaming around…hand in hand during the regional meet?”&lt;br /&gt;Our eyes shone in the sheer anticipation of the news… we waited with bated breath, and we all asked in unison, “WHO?”&lt;br /&gt;“D..M..”&lt;br /&gt;“With WHOM?”&lt;br /&gt;“His boss” … and don’t get ideas here… he is a guy… but on second thoughts why not!&lt;br /&gt;And there it began… and finally we concluded that D..M..’s relentless pursuit of a suitable girl and resulted in what we call in marketing terms – “exploring newer territories”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 2:&lt;br /&gt;Like some hot shot brand managers, on whom the future of the company depended, we jumped on various company products, dissecting it… analyzing it…strategizing while we kept on with this exercise. However there was this one category of products, which we (expect P..R..) are/were mostly ignorant about- sanitary napkins, which received most of our attention…but we were not to be bogged down by challenges…we are the future of the nation (ahem…ahem)..&lt;br /&gt;4:30 pm (same day): P..R.. tries to explain lesser mortals like us, certain attributes of the product in question….&lt;br /&gt;S..G..: Goes on to explain …with original insights….and tops it up with a finishing line- “P..R.., I know more than you…”&lt;br /&gt;P..R..: “Am not sure, that should be taken as a compliment by you”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day ….(well I don’t remember the count now):&lt;br /&gt;We were out taking the ‘n’th coffee break, when we heard….&lt;br /&gt;“He has got engaged!”&lt;br /&gt;“WHO?”&lt;br /&gt;“Arre… D..M..’s….”&lt;br /&gt;“Really…true”… (loud “aawwwss”)&lt;br /&gt;“Poor D..M..!...Who is going to break the news to him??”&lt;br /&gt;Good question!!.. so we all go together!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We find D..M.. in his seat, happily checking out movie ticket booking sites, humming songs…and very tactfully (with wide grins… and other facial expressions enhancing the same…) we break the news to him…. And there it started again…&lt;br /&gt;“You know what … HE is getting engaged…”&lt;br /&gt;“Ya well…”&lt;br /&gt;“Dude…do something…”&lt;br /&gt;“Do what?”&lt;br /&gt;“You know… do SOMETHING….”&lt;br /&gt;“Like WHAT??”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D..M.. was visibly agitated by now…and we were more than amused ….I meant concerned…(ahem)… when finally someone drew the conclusion… “better luck next time mate!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you see my dilemma here… will you hate me for liking marketing …or sales…. I am just a mere mortal…still grappling with THE fundamental question of our life- Sales or Marketing???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-1082252354243594006?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/1082252354243594006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=1082252354243594006&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/1082252354243594006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/1082252354243594006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2008/11/life-is-full-of-tough-choices.html' title='Life is full of tough choices!'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-2606667108721519450</id><published>2008-10-30T02:50:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-15T16:03:34.554+05:30</updated><title type='text'>And the stars shone...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Stars shone brightly against the dark sky… shimmered a little…and in case you took a closer look…smiled at you too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; smiled back as he took another drag of his cigarette. There was a gentle cool breeze blowing across his face…it must have rained somewhere close, he could almost smell the moist soil. All he wanted to do was lie there and let the stars carry on their little &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;-coordinated dance across the screen…but something was irritating him…someone close… “aah! Those fuckers”, he sighed and turned his attention towards &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, other two occupants of the 4ft by 4ft space floating at 80 ft above ground level of that 9 storey high telephone tower. They had started with a 2 quarters of White Mischief, which had proved quite inadequate for the occasion. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, most resourceful of the three got them 2 more quarters of Imperial Blue and may be a third too; but &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t remember. After the booze ran out, suddenly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; wanted some fresh air and so three of them climbed up this telephone tower which was recently put up in their college campus. It was almost 2 am, and if anybody had caught them there, then they would have had a fairly painful hangover, but then &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; wanted some fresh air, so there they were. “The day I saw that collage, I knew it was over. Bloody! Someone looks at those snaps he would be wondering if she ever spoke to me in school or not…forget that we might be going around! And on top of it all her big principles…ideals…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;bull crap&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;! She &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t….” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; went on while &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; patiently listened and tried drawing parallels from his current seemingly ending affair with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Aparna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; went back to stars, he had heard &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’s break up story some 10 times already and 11 if you count the two times he had left them half finished. Break up stories and link up stories are the two most spoken about topic in engineering college where the skewed sex ratio, makes the young student lose his interest in studies linearly and their interest in women and wine (sometimes in unison…but mostly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;complimentary&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;..) rise exponentially. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t have any such stories to tell. He belonged to a typical Bengali family. Dad worked in Allahabad Bank, mother a house wife. They lived in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Alipore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, in the bungalow provided by the bank. Learnt tabla for five years and then one fine day gave up, primarily because he realized he never enjoyed it. Played football in rainy season, cricket in all other seasons; everyday, but never wanted to take up sports as profession. He had to be an engineer since his father &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;couldn't&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; become one, preferably from a college his mama (mother’s brother), whom she idolized, passed out from. Life was simple and he was doing it pretty well, there was no such thing as adventure till he joined his engineering college…not really…till he met the other two. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; D’Costa, son of civil engineer, who worked for West Bengal government. Studied in missionary schools all across West Bengal but mostly in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Kolkata&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;; grew up to have more of Bengali-Hindu friends than Catholic. His first girl friend was Marian, who was catholic too…but that was class 8. His first serious girl friend was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Riya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Mukherjee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, whom he met during coaching classes in Class 11. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; had lived life at his own terms, primarily because he came from a family where they respected private space and independence, but when he met &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Riya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, his life took a U-turn. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Riya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’s dad was an author and also an active CPI (M) member while her mother was staunch Hindu &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;brahmin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’s daughter. She had grown up in a strange world of confusion- of communism, capitalism,religion… godliness and godlessness. When &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; first met &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Riya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; she seemed like a strange tangled up puzzle and as he untangled her, he was enchanted by the person that she was. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; had never thought he was capable of passion and love unless it was Manchester United someone was speaking of, but he soon realized he was wrong. It was during second year of engineering college when he realized that the puzzle he had been deciphering has now gripped his entire life. Instead of curing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Riya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; he had injected the poison in his own system and made it far worse. He was no philosopher to think of life and its meaning…but he knew he needed to break free. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; was the quite unlike of the rest two. His dad had carried on family business, which of course he never wanted to join. He had a natural love for science, numbers and a knack for arts. Without much training, except what was given in by primary school art teacher, he was pretty good at drawing and fine arts. When he joined engineering college, he soon became quite famous for his talent. In third year he became the Secretary of College Magazine Club. He had a high school sweetheart too, like &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Aparna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. However his case was much different. There was no intellectual &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;mis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;-match like what happened in case of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, it was far much simpler. One sided love!...well mostly. He had bunked school for her, bunked &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;tuition&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; for her…very nearly bunked engineering entrance exam for her…but she could never love back that much. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; had kept their relationship going and one day when he let go…it snapped. May be she wanted to come back, as &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; often thought…may be she needed more time…may be… He never spoke to her again, so he never knew. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;As the morning sun gained a little more altitude, the air above highway started shimmering and gave the road up ahead that familiar wet look. As the truck raced on, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; got up sat on the side of the truck looking back at the best four years of their life. Four years in which he saw so many things… Union strikes… Class bunking…. Riverside dates…random trips to nearby places… fests…tournaments...gang wars… hostel parties…guys crying after drinking… guys crying when its time to leave…but they &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t. They left with a bang… cracking bombs… on a rented truck…at 4 am in the morning… half stoned…carefully registering the minute details of those faces…of that place which gave them more than just a degree…much more! It was 9 am when they reached &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Maidan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Kolkata&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. They unloaded their stuff from the trucks…no tears…no “will miss you…” because &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; knew they would never be out of touch…Never!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“Hey man! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Wass&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; up? How long you been here?” asked &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; as he took his seat beside &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; in Some Place Else. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“Not too long man…just ordered a beer… I knew you fuckers would be late! Where is our man &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;? Late to his own party?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;It was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’s graduation…or rather post graduation party. He had just finished his MBA and got a job in a mid-sized financial institution based out of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; reached good 40 minutes late. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Wass&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; up dude? You are already acting like a busy manager even before joining work”, grinned &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, as he took a sip of vodka. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; knew better than to object. He knew that any comment he makes will meet &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’s sharp sarcasm without much effect. So save himself from answering he gulped down his drink and looked sheepishly towards &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; for some support. So as the band prepared its kit and did sound checks, they exchanged their stories with same enthusiasm…just like old times. It was classical rock night. Some local band played one cover after another… and just when they started with ‘comfortably numb’…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; needed some air. So they went to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Maidan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; and sat right in the middle of it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Through the orange haze of street light lit smoke which hung over the city, few stars could still be seen…they still shimmered…but they &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t smile any more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; had noticed this for quite sometime…they &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t smile anymore. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“What the fuck is this life for, anyways?” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; asked suddenly getting up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“What do you mean?” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; asked. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“I mean…what is the use of anything? This degree…work…money… any god damn thing?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“These things individually don’t matter but together in the bigger picture they form the means to the end… to our goal in life”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“What is your goal in life?” asked &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, by now fairly interested in the turn of conversation. Though he &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_66"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t drunk enough, but he knew that when let on, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_67"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_68"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; broke in to these pseudo-intellectual conversations, especially after drinking, which gave him ample things to take their case on, when they were sober. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“I want to be happy in life”, said &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_69"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“And what do you think will make you happy?” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_70"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; asked. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“There are no such quantifiable parameters to measure that I am happy or to tell what will make me happy. It’s just an intrinsic feeling man…may be success will make me happy…may be when I become a billionaire I will be happy…May be if I get a job like yours…or be a ranker like you… I will be happy…”,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_71"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; said grinning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“I bet you won’t be…I know because I am not! Trust me I am not… All this hype about MBA…and rank …fin job…everything is bull crap man!...I slogged my ass for two years…nothing like the life we had in engineering college…and what do I end up with?..Some job in some Indian fin- company…while those fuckers with half my score ended up getting double my salary…big &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_72"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;MNC&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; brands…why? Well some needed better pedigree…which might be anything from a better school to graduating college…others &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_73"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t find enough diversity in me. Are these idiots recruiting to make me play beach volley for them? Do things like dedication, persistence mean nothing today? Everyone wants a fucking all rounder…what about a fucking specialist?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“Hey dude! Chill…I mean…it’s just your first job and you haven’t even joined…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_74"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;isn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t it too early to comment…”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“No man! … My career is fucked… it’s gone! There is nothing much left to it…By the time I make my first switch, my batch-mates will be heading some divisions and all…. It’s all gone….Its all gone! ...”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_75"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’s flight landed at 3 pm at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_76"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; International Airport, but by the time he could come out after all the custom checks it was already 5 pm. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_77"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; was waiting for over an hour now. “Serves him right…asshole always used to make us wait”, thought &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_78"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;. He was glad to finally meet &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_79"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; after such a long time. Last time they met was nearly 2 years back in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_80"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Kolkata&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; after he had just passed out. Recently he had heard about the global recession and seen all this financial behemoths crumble to ground…he had been worried about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_81"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, but never really dared to ask. Over the years they had fallen apart. Not really, but there was a definite gap. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_82"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; worked for a software company and had been going on-site fairly frequently. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_83"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; too had been busy with his work. He was working for an automobile major and was now in Germany living his dream. Though they kept in touch, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_84"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; had kind of disappeared from the Radar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_85"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; was quite surprised when suddenly he got a mail from &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_86"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; and when &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_87"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; heard that he will be visiting &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_88"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; on his way back to Hyderabad; it was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_89"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; who suggested that they catch a drink in between his connecting flights. “Anyways they don’t serve alcohol in domestic flights”, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_90"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; had said in his old persuasive manner. To be honest he was quite nervous about meeting &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_91"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;…their last meeting kept coming back to him…he had completely broken down…he was a very different &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_92"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;The man who waived across the rails was his old ‘mate’, “ I am really catching this ‘mate’ shit of Australia”, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_93"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; thought. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“Dude there &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_94"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;isn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t much time; lets hit the road…lets go get some drink… Traffic will be killer…today is Diwali here remember...” It was around 7:30 pm, they had a fair bit to drink, but more than that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_95"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; caught up with most of what he missed of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_96"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’s life. He was hurt and shocked when he heard that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_97"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’s had been nearly out of work for last 3 months and without pay for last 1 month. Hurt because he never told them and shocked because he looked so much better than he last saw him. As if it had done him more good than bad. His company suffered substantial losses during US sub-prime crisis and was on the verge of being shut down. However now there are chances of it being taken over by some bigger Indian bank and most of the old employees were hanging by that chance rather than asking for severance packages. As the waiter got the bill, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_98"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; asked, “So what are you doing these days? Looking for a job… I have friends in IT companies…”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_99"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; smiled, “Playing session drummer for this band who are pretty big in this part of India”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“What!” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_100"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; was more than shocked this time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_101"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; burst out laughing, “Don’t worry dude, the scene is not so bad… and I have more than enough in bank…its just I am keeping myself busy with these things. It’s like the sauce in the sizzler, to spice up my life while my career gets sorted. My five years of tabla lessons finally &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_102"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t go all in vain. Last year I befriended these people who wanted to start their own band but &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_103"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t have any drummer. Out of curiosity I gave it a shot and to my surprise I found I had a knack for it. So I started playing as session drummer for them in their concerts during my time offs. Now I just play a little more regularly, that’s it!...and frankly I am enjoying it a lot. It feels awesome to find that your life not a mere uni-dimensional pursuit of uni-dimensional dream”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“Speaking of uni-dimensional dreams…I am seeing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_104"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Aparna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; again!” and then he waited for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_105"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Rajarshi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; to abuse him, which he &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_106"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t but he was visibly surprised. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“But I thought you had enough last time…”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“Yeah…true…and then somehow we met on a flight to Australia… You know …as fate would have it types!...” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_107"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Salil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; said, choosing his words carefully… he earlier had a session with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_108"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Malcom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;, where he was decorated with ‘chosen compliments’, luckily some of which were German and he &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_109"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t understand them. “I know it’s foolish… I know I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_110"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;shouldn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t have done it… I mean I know all that what you guys would say…but you ever had those questions bother you- Was there a chance? Did I give my best? Was she the one? ... Is there any chance? And worse of them all- Will I be any happier with anyone else? I tried … but I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_111"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t get any answer to it. I had never heard her side of it… I never really figured what was in her mind… and she has been through hell in last couple of years….and I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_112"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;wasn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;’t there… No one was… Not that I am to be blamed… but I don’t know…May be I should have been there. Its not that everything will be OK this time and it will work out just fine… In all probability, No! It won’t work out… but so what… what am I so afraid of? Of failing …getting hurt again…right? But I am not afraid anymore… I can’t have those questions trouble me day and night… I need to take this chance and see if it was worth it or not? ... I got to let go of my fears and believe”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;“Hmm! Yeah and just in case you fall… we are here for you with a bottle of Signature in hand to drown you sorrow… just a phone call away… Anyways lets hurry up, your flight is leaving in one and half hours” said Rajarshi grinning finally. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;As they walked out in smoke filled marine drive, Diwali celebration was in full blast. The road was lined with hundreds of people watching brilliant fireworks all across the sky. There was an amazing order in the sheer randomness of the fireworks…it seemed like zillions of stars dancing all across the sky…changing colours…hiding…dodging… changing shapes and then with one bright flash of light plunge into darkness…till the next one comes… They kept on walking along the pavement, breathing in all the energy…all the hope …all the light… when suddenly Salil turned to Rajarshi and said-“Fuck the flight man…lets go get drunk!” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-2606667108721519450?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/2606667108721519450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=2606667108721519450&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/2606667108721519450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/2606667108721519450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-stars-shone.html' title='And the stars shone...'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-3737699414192735821</id><published>2008-09-25T11:53:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-25T12:08:14.787+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Of drum beats on lazy afternoon…</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;It struck me on a very normal, ordinary day, while I was walking down the street on a usual afternoon and suddenly sun decided to show up after 7 day long hiatus… and I realised…its Durga Puja time! Well not really, by calendar it was still a full month away, but then ask a Bong if he ever cared about the hard facts of life… well I guess not! At the risk of over simplifying reality, I would say that Bongs by nature are either poets or 'wanna be' poets. One* of us once called moon an over baked 'roti'(chand ta jano jholshano ruti), may be without realising that nothing would ever be the same again since those words. Those lines have not lost its relevance or beauty; in fact it has grown much more beyond probably what the poet had ever expected…. It stands for all the abstract, meaningless, crazy, adventurous, emotive, drastic things we do in the search for that poetic expression of life and its by products…yearning for 'Durga Puja' time... missing it already when it was still to come was one of them!&lt;br /&gt;Well a disclaimer before you end up thinking I am the religious types, well- I am not! In fact so far I can remember, I was never really religious minded. I mostly dozed off during aartis etc, and used to enjoy puja primarily because of 'shinni' ** When I was old enough I started questioning various rules and rituals of religion, and concluded in my mind that it's mostly a farce. For God however, am still in the process of questioning and looking for answers. But anyways more of that later…what I wanted to say was, for me Durga Puja was never a religious thing. In fact as the days went by religion went out of the window, Durga Puja became more of a concise, power packed and without the usual boredom of- a summer holiday!&lt;br /&gt;For kids, Durga Puja is the time for annual bonus- mostly a well rewarding bonus for all the hard work they put in, by the 'senior managements' (plural- keeping in mind the various relatives who chip in)! In most cases however bonuses are much higher that what we deserved…but then who would ever complain for that! This sparked off a rare streak of consumerism across all the bongs, surpassing demographic or geographic boundaries. For days bong women haunted shopkeepers never satisfied with the designs or the quality or worse- price. Men are more subtle but equally demanding. For the category which I belonged to until recently- students; it's about figuring out what was the 'in thing' and then plan out with utmost care which outfit will give the maximum impact while impressing the ever elusive bong women. While we were busy with all this suddenly 'mohalaya' came- 1st day of puja.&lt;br /&gt;My mom used to wake me up at 4 am in the morning just as the recitation of shlokas and songs used to begin on radio. It continued till morning 5:30 am when we switched to Doordarshan, which telecasted the televised version of the same recitation. Till I joined engineering college these were the only days when I saw sunrise...but there used to be something very strange about those mornings… they were always so calm… so serene…so beautiful…that even if for a fleeting moment you will feel the presence of something divine in the surroundings.&lt;br /&gt;Finally the day came- panchami, when we used to go get the idol from the idol makers. Then and there… that event marked the beginning of the sheer enjoyment, fun, madness… which characterised the remaining 5 days! Sashthi &amp;amp; Saptami are like the starters- you enjoy it but never have too much of it…and by the end of it… you are just about prepared for the main course- "Maha Ashtami". On the Maha Ashtami morning every bong- communist, non-communist, atheist, agnostic, believer, rich or poor… put on their best traditional dresses and came dutifully for morning 'anjali'. For teenagers and slightly older junta it had totally different relevance. That is one time when all the girls in the society, however 'ghissu' she might be or however strict her parents might be, would come down dressed in traditional dress giving furtive glances here and there, while guys stood there looking and not staring, hopelessly losing their heart while her parents maintained a very strict eye on them. Score 1-0 (read: 1 love) in favour of the Women's team. Guy's team gave up their wicket even before the first ball was bowled.&lt;br /&gt;Nabami also quickly passes by, as you try and cover most of the critically acclaimed durga pujas of the city while also tasting delicacies all across the city. If it had been Chinese on sashthi, continental on saptami, and traditional bong food on Ashtami, nabami – you can't afford to miss the biryani at Shiraj, park circus.&lt;br /&gt;Nabami nights are like those moments when you are ordering deserts- you know that the good times are coming to an end… while you loved the food so far…you want to make the most of what is left… and desert goes a long way in turning a good dinner to a memorable one!!… umm.. sorry I got slightly carried away… coming back to Durga Puja… Dashami is the day when most of the idols from small and mid sized Durga Pujas in various societies etc are taken for 'visarjan'. While lot of people choose to visit the bigger puja's on dashami there are people like me who are more kicked about 'vashan' or 'visarjan'. So in the evening as the 'dhaki'*** picks up the beat, the road side romeos, the incorrigible nerds, and the all-rounders of certain society will join the vashan procession, dancing so out of rhythm without any grace or clue as what the next step will be… in short so obscenely that the likes of Prabhu Deva will have heart attack seeing it. But then apparently, as confirmed by trustworthy sources, this is the day that the girl's team had been waiting for. And though being true to their tribe, they don't give up their wickets so easily… but for all the practical purposes the score is – 1:1 (read: Love all).&lt;br /&gt;As the night gradually takes over, and all the celebrations are done with- a strange sadness takes over… not just because that the holidays are over… or because even this time Joyita didn't say 'yes'…also because 'ma fire gelo' (Mother went back home)… but then there is hope in the end – 'asche bochor abar hobe' (next year… once again!).&lt;br /&gt;For me Durga Puja has more significance than just celebration …I believe it stands for lot of things which are critical to our today. In these days when religion is more often than not soaked in politics and other 'higher needs' of certain individuals, to look at Puja as a mean to chill out and get together without the excess baggages of life, sure is inviting. It is also intriguing to notice that of all the several Gods and their avatar we chose – Durga, the lady who plays the female protagonist's role in an epic battle between good and evil , where even the mighty super Gods like Shiva and Vishnu look like mere sidekicks. Now you know what inspires bong women and what has probably lead to the current deplorable state of bong husbands!! But jokes apart I am mostly very proud of bong women, (excepting few Ms Banerjees here and there) but more than that of my forefathers who helped women get such social status!!&lt;br /&gt;Days are fast approaching…Ganesh chathurti went by last to last week… I now see idols of devi Durga being made in Lalbaug and I can imagine the electrifying excitement in the streets of Kolkata. But as I sit here in my room missing Durga puja, I don't miss the puja as such… I miss my friends, my parents…shopping… PYTs (pretty young things…)… food…excitement…pandal hopping…night long drives…blaring music…beautifully decorated streets of Kolkata…a mad rush to visit the maximum number of pujas… to end my day at 6 am and start at 4 pm…school and college get-togethers at Maddox Square… in short…I miss the 'bong' in me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* That will be one extremely renowned Bengali poet- Sukanto&lt;br /&gt;** An amazing Bengali non-typical sweet dish, made specially during pujas&lt;br /&gt;*** A fairly large form of a drum, slung on 1 shoulder and played with 2 sticks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-3737699414192735821?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/3737699414192735821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=3737699414192735821&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/3737699414192735821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/3737699414192735821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2008/09/of-drum-beats-on-lazy-afternoon_25.html' title='Of drum beats on lazy afternoon…'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-584221560055025342</id><published>2008-08-25T16:27:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-25T16:52:08.277+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Physics or Philosophy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;It was during engineering days… when everyone worked hard to lose their single tag (now its more an ‘in-thing’ to be single… but then…it was tumour which had to be get rid of… ASAP)… some spent hours in gym…some at cyber café...some at cafe…some at football field (especially in the field adjoining Bio-tech department)…and yes few with books too (even then being a nerd fetched you a girlfriend!)… and some catching up with old acquaintances…like me! It was one of those cycles, in which I had scanned through all the available, might be available and ‘wish she was available’ girls of my batch and concluded that either I had mentally rejected them, or what was more likely to happen- they had mentally rejected me! …And then all of a sudden a school friend who shared her Tiffin with me twice in class 10, gave me water 5 times in class 11 in school bus, started figuring in my list… we called such endeavours - ‘Off-campus placements’! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Yes, so there I was going on a ‘date’ with a school friend of mine (who for the record was a good friend). So my friends armed me with everything I needed- starting from a deodorant to a nice black shirt… but they just forgot luck! And yes it had to run out that day…. So I reached some 57 minutes 45 seconds late (and not 1 hour late as Ria claimed… girls always have the tendency to oversimplify! )..By the way her name was Ria, she was from my school and was doing bachelors in Physics in Kolkata. My ever ending search for ‘the one’ came to sudden halt, when by mistake I asked her:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“What’s your idea of a perfect guy?” (Naah! I wasn’t working for shaadi.com)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Hmm… Honest, caring, intelligent, smart…but more importantly one who doesn’t keep me waiting for an hour! Not even 30 mins. Don’t take it otherwise, but it could have been someone like you, but then you are too careless… you take life too easy… you don’t worry about relevant things… you don’t care for time…you are not organized…..you are not….”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;Need I say more … about how it went! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;It was 4 years later, when fate suddenly made our paths cross; I met a friend of her and got her number. Unable to resist my curiosity, I punched in her number….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Hello… am I speaking to Ria?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Yes…speaking.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Hi! How are you?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“I am fine… thank you…but you are?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Any guesses?” (Not that I expected her to)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Well…… No!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Digvijay….”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Digvijay….umm… from MP Birla!!!??”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Yeah…”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Hey…how are you? What a pleasant surprise!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;And so it went on… catching up on the years that went by. I had my stories to share about engineering life… b-school life…now more recently…professional life! She had hers as well- about masters from IIT and then a year’s rest in Kolkata…and doctorate from IISc… which was in the process. It’s a strange feeling to catch up with old friends and trace the time back to the present…its like going through old photo album and then finally updating it with all those snaps you missed…of yours and your friends. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;It is quite difficult for anyone who has passed a considerable amount of time in hostel, surrounded by lot of friends to be on his own… friends who will wake you up for tests…prepare you for exams… carry you back to your room when you were drunk…cheer you up when you are down…In short hand hold you till you are ready to be on your own! And then you are dropped in Mumbai, the biggest, most crowded, fastest metro of &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; and you realize you are not yet ready. To quote Bacon – &lt;i style=""&gt;Magna citivas, magna solitudo&lt;/i&gt;! (Bigger the city, bigger the solitude)…yes…somewhere in all the work, meetings, targets and deadlines… that solitude caught up with me. So we started calling up each other once in a while.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Ria was the same, but she had changed too…I just couldn’t point my finger at it. It was kind of subtle, yet strong! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“So have you been in any relationship… (realizing that there can’t be any other answer to it…I added)…lately!?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Well…no…not lately…What about you?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Naay! Girls still feel the same… ‘careless guys’ still figure at the bottom of their lists!” (Hoping that she would get the satire)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“You really felt bad that day…didn’t you?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Naay!...I agree to all that you said”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Actually those days I was dating Partho. He was in my college…you wouldn’t know. He had this very bad habit of being late…careless…unorganized….which always used to get me irritated. Somehow I had a very idealistic view of the world then”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Aah…I see…so now has it changed?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“I have stopped being a perfectionist now! I don’t look for perfection any more”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;Coming from a b-school, I have the habit of putting ‘perfectionist’ as both my strengths and weakness, as per examples I remember. But I thought being a perfectionist is still a virtue. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Well…I think perfectionism is still a virtue…which at certain length everyone should strive for” (I remember my stunts with corel draw, when I used to spend hours just perfecting the boundaries of the cropped part which was visible after 10X zoom in)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“Do you really think so? In all these years, what physics has taught me is that we live in an imperfect, un-idealistic world. But then there is a hint that we can still have a perfect system at a micro level, where Newtonian forces fall flat. But has it ever occurred to you that our entire existence might be a result of imperfection, which we try to negate out with so many formulas and assumptions.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;I was thoroughly lost…she sensed that and carried on!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“What was this universe before Big-Bang? An infinitesimally small mass with infinite amount of energy. Why did it go off all of a sudden? Imperfection in the perfect system. Planets cooling down…evolution…series of ice ages…in the middle of all this how do you explain the evolution of Neolithic man? We don’t … we haven’t been able to… that is what we call missing link, another imperfection in the system. So while our fore fathers formed small civilizations across the continents which were drifting away…they tried to form a perfect system, using rules, religion etc. It was always a 2-D view of perfection- as seen by a single person. But in every such civilisation there were people who differed, drifted away, formed new colonies. A perfect system would have seen all these colonies settling down happily and content, but that was not to happen. Kingdoms…wars…crusades…scientific inventions, in short the result of all the imperfection kept us moving through the ages. Even in most recent times- World Wars. What were those? a result of imperfection in the economic process of the world at a macro level. US and &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Germany&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; were growing at such high rates that to sustain the growth they needed to wage wars, an economic configurational issue which closely resembles a positive feedback system in physics. But this helped grow people such as Einstein, Heisenberg etc and&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;several other technology which might not have been invented had these super powers not been after technological superiority. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;Forget all this; in our day to day lives, so many things happen because of the sheer human imperfection. If harry hadn’t missed his usual local train, he wouldn’t have bumped into Sally. If my superior hadn’t gone on sudden leave my HOD wouldn’t have asked me to assist him on his project, if you hadn’t been late that day, you wouldn’t have met my friend, and we wouldn’t have been talking!... there are so many such examples”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;“So you mean, you won’t be angry, if I keep you waiting!” (I was grinning like an ass)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;She laughed a little and carried on, “You haven’t changed a bit! I will be angry. I still hate waiting for anyone. I hate it when people don’t respect other’s time. But as you see, our existence has been a constant spiraling out effect of imperfections across ages, with this realization, can I still hate someone for this imperfection. I have realized that its intent that matters more than the result, why else do you think the result- ‘murder’ is punishable by law if acted with malice and is pardonable if done as an act of defense. I try and judge people on intent…not on result” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 6pt 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;I nearly asked her – “so will you date me now?”…but I let it be. I realised what had changed in her…not really, but then I knew the type of change…I was happy for her. We all stumble upon such realisations from time to time…big ones which change our lives…small ones…which make it easier to live. So what was my realisation for the day- &lt;i style=""&gt;If a girl hates you today, its ok to try again after couple of years!  &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-584221560055025342?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/584221560055025342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=584221560055025342&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/584221560055025342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/584221560055025342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2008/08/physics-or-philosophy.html' title='Physics or Philosophy'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-935081362746885382</id><published>2008-07-31T14:21:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-07-31T14:23:36.940+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Mis-adventure or that is what they say...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;Routine, process and youth gives a strange certainty to our lives… an assurance that nothing wrong can happen to us… nothing can move us, stir us in our regular lives unless we want to do it. Somewhere we tend to underestimate the power of chance, of probability and of chaos theory (may be!), until the irregularity in the system drives us toward an inevitable shock… a tryst with destiny… how we handle it…recover from it or crumble beneath it is more a matter of circumstantial positioning of our guiding stars than historical performances!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;So much for the build up! I guess an odd effect of living in the times of Ekta Kapoor (or did I miss an ‘e’ in the name), we tend to over dramatize even the slightest of out of ordinary incidents. But then what the hell! However these weren’t exactly my thoughts when I was returning from Andheri station to Aseem’s place at around 0045 hours on a Friday night, more like-&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;damn I can’t party tonight, cause I have to go to work tomorrow! So with a heavy heart, I listened to Bon Jovi and wished- Someday I will be Saturday night! Auto rickshaw is one hell of a modern day innovation. You should see it weaving its way through Mumbai traffic; you can literally feel the time slowing down as it approaches the speed of light…. Umm .. well not exactly but then compared to the other vehicles on the road it does give you a certain sense of speed, hence my preference for auto rickshaws immaterial of the traffic conditions. That night was no different! I was enjoying my music while my mind drifted away visualizing chilled beer in mugs topped with clean white froth. It was in fact after few seconds that I realized that my rick had stopped mid way, I hadn’t reached Aseem’s place yet, and worse there was a rick standing right next to mine with an extremely agitated driver and someone else, who was least bothered about everything! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;Indians are curious and I am certainly above average! So as the altercation picked up volume, I paid more attention to it than what Bryan Adams had to say about- day like today! I hate missing the opening scenes of movies, because if it’s a nice one, you know you have missed a lot! The entire logic behind the chain of events is lost and only after interval do you actually pick it up, or may be even later! Such was my feeling, but the protagonists of this brief play were most unconcerned about my feelings. Finally unable to control his feelings the ‘taller guy’ (the driver of the rick which forced mine to stop…by the way this was a post analysis realization) got out of the rick, came and safely covered the only exit of my rick (other exit was already covered by the stationary rick). Now I was really curious, so took out the head phones from my ear and was paying undivided attention to what he had to say. At the same time, in some part of my logical brain, the most illogical part which dealt with sixth senses became active and started sounding low warning signals. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;Their conversation reminded me of my engineering college ragging when we were asked to say entire sentences with 3&lt;sup&gt;rd&lt;/sup&gt; degree abuses after every word we said. Anyways, the couple of questions which the ‘taller guy’ asked again and again- “Kya be shaane khud ko shaana samajhta hai kya?” ; ( I was particularly lost by the sheer confusion in the question!) “Pata hai main kaun huun?” and the worst one- “Ghusa duun kya?” It was then I noticed that this guy had produced a broken bottle and holding it by its neck. Now suddenly this ‘taller guy’ became ‘taller and dangerous guy’.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My sixth sense alarm went full blast. Finally, say by destiny or otherwise, he turned to me and asked me the same set of question! Two very basic rules in a group interview are- 1. Don’t speak unless spoken to, 2. Prepare yourself for the same questions which are being asked to the other candidate. I had forgotten the second rule, or may be I was still quite lost! Anyways, few seconds passed and I still couldn’t come up with any convincing answer and he finally settled for an assumption that – ‘Tu shana hai!’ … Now he being the protector of the world wanted to teach me a lesson for being ‘shana’. “Chal be, jo hai sab nikal!” came a sudden strong demand. By now, he was holding me by collar and the tip of the bottle was threateningly close to me. Few split second calculations, few random checks here and there, and few desperate SOS signals to my guiding stars later, I grabbed his arm and started my most impromptu drama ever- “Main student huun… kuch paisa nahin hai…. Lut jaunga…. &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Maine&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:State&gt; kya kiya hai…” Came back his credentials and demands, stinking of alcohol, “Aaj hi jail se chuta huun…. Bhai ka admi huun… police kuch nahin karegi…. Ghusa duun kya… chal shaane sab nikal”. All of a sudden to add some masala to already spiced up situation, someone started playing – “Khuda jaane main fida huun….” ‘Taller and dangerous’ guy was immensely distracted and demanded- “kiska mobile hai”… I promptly answered- “uska” pointing at the guy in the other auto. He was caught unaware, but retorted back in couple of seconds- “nahin mera nahin hai…isi ka hoga”… But by then I had realized that it was my phone and it was playing music out loud because the headphone had come off. Instantly I fixed it back again, before other man’s defense.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Our ‘taller and dangerous guy’ lost interest in such non-sense soon and came back to his old questions. I held on to his armed arm with determination and continued my drama, as if we were haggling over the price of something he wants to buy from me! All of a sudden, like the way it had started, this guy decides to leave, with his parting words- “dobara nahin dikhna”… and sped away in his rick. I dialled 100, and heard- “Hindi ke liye 1 dabaye,Marathi santha 2 daba…..”&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;About then I realised something liquid on my right arm….aah parting gift from my friend – a perfect hysterisys curve shaped cut…almost 2.5 inches long, 2 cm wide and few mm deep. Took 6 stitches and two and half grand to be closed and sealed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;Anyways such was my adventure (or mis-adventure), and they say life is so boring and dull… Well may be for others…for me… am still busy changing bandages on my arm and thinking of an appropriate answer for the question- “Kya be shaane.. khud ko shaana samajhta hai kya?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-935081362746885382?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/935081362746885382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=935081362746885382&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/935081362746885382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/935081362746885382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2008/07/mis-adventure-or-that-is-what-they-say.html' title='Mis-adventure or that is what they say...'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-8178297560800377662</id><published>2008-07-31T14:17:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-07-31T14:21:33.620+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sunday Bloody Sunday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;On a sunny Sunday afternoon, sitting on the sofa of your drawing room, there aren’t many things you will be afraid of; not the usual things at least except of Monday! You know the Saturday night is gone- you had fun but then that is lost along with the hangover from those vodka shots. Sunday morning shoots into your blood that venom which you fight all week long- laziness. An utter desire to walk out of this rat race and take a time out! You want to go on, but it all so tough now. Monday seems like bonded slavery!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Sunday afternoon is the scariest of all - scarier than a night in haunted house. Mind is a very powerful machine and whenever let to run on its own, churns out things you don’t want to know, things long forgotten, things you don’t want to think about, things you wish, things you miss, things you desire and things you will never have. Between this eternal battle of reality and dreams somewhere mind duped in the yellowness of Sunday afternoon plays the devil’s advocate. It makes your heart go crazy about things you love and things you want, while remind you of the utter futileness of such efforts; and you sit there like a lonely warrior unsure of the side to take; watch it conquer you, tear you and wrench you till you are not sure if it was worth the battle. As I said, Monday could have been lot easier if not for the Sunday afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In any battle evenings are traditionally the time where dead soldiers are taken back to their camps and the last respect is paid to their brave souls. Here you walk the evening with a similar sadness, a strange silence in all the noise. Torn and tired after the war, you know these are the last few moments of peace before Monday takes over. While you dread that and wish that the time would stop and you can stay forever in that peace, it slips right through your fingers like sand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Monday will come my friend, it’s inevitable! I don’t know if I will be prepared for it, will I be able to throw the poison out of my blood and jump in to it, or will I be swayed by other’s destiny and lack the courage to make my own. Whatever it may be – only time will decide! It’s a wide and wild river before I reach Saturday; while freedom, peace, tranquility and warmth beckons me there is a chance that I might never make it to the Saturday and there is only one way to find out- swim through the river. If I dive in- I know it will be a bloody battle, while the rewards are worth a life time, it will surely leave me without one if I lose. For now the temptation to quit is just too high- I hope I will have the strength and faith to carry on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-8178297560800377662?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/8178297560800377662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=8178297560800377662&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/8178297560800377662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/8178297560800377662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2008/07/sunday-bloody-sunday.html' title='Sunday Bloody Sunday'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-4280044667720998856</id><published>2007-12-04T16:22:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-12-04T17:12:46.979+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Rise and Shine...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;6 ‘o’ clock in the morning in a super fast express (barely faster than a speeding auto rickshaw that plies on the streets of Burrabazar) on a certain December morning mayn’t be the most conducive and ideal time to write a blog, but with frequent cups of &lt;i style=""&gt;chai &lt;/i&gt;and growing sunlight outside it doesn’t seem like an absolute impossibility either. Of course for people around me (like the one who was just standing near my back) I am like a truly geek- techno-gizmo-demi god who chooses to spend the sleepiest part of the day sitting here perched over this laptop! As for the only people who mayn’t think so, are happily cuddled up under blankets/shawls/trench coats and are most unaware of my exploits! So can I go on to record this as a human triumph over the cruel side of nature, can I say yet again humans (this time led by me!) have shown that they wont be balked down by sub 10 degree temperature (considering the fact that I am a true bong… might explain few things here), cold chilly occasional wind which just happen to come from nowhere..Blah …blah…. NO…..I guess it would rather go down as the exact example of what happens when you pack for a journey (60 hours in total, 46 of which takes place in 4 different trains) in 15 minutes. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Second year in management education is quite fascinating and interesting for many different reasons from why first year is. In second year, yet again you are senior and have an entire batch of unsuspecting juniors as the bunch of guinea pigs to try put your newly acquired management fundaes to test. However the problem here being that the market condition here is that of perfectly competitive one, and juniors getting too much of power in terms of choosing whom to take gyan from, people like me whose batch rank resembles the highest scores of Sourav Ganguly in the best days of his cricketing career take premature exit from this market and try and open up an entirely new niche market to spend their time - b-school competitions! Not that I have been particularly successful here either but then given the laws of probability you will, however unlikely it might appear in the outset, crack couple of them and claim your moment of greatness. Hence when I found my name in the shortlist for an event in Iris ’07 (IIM I fest), I thanked my forefathers, my kindergarten teachers, Government of India and other stakeholders who contributed to my success and set out on my trip to Indore. Some of the clichés used in these fests such as – “battle it out for the top glory”, “almost first is still not first”, “winner takes it all”, “claim your glory” somehow have this underlying tinge of medieval age war cries and you without being much familiar with any of it think of yourself like a knight in black suit who is out their to win this “corporate” battle. Of course there are other incentives for going to such fests such as- free booze, vacation trip, and babes from different college (applicable only to students from IIMs). Any ways I won’t bore you with my exploits in Iris coz frankly I don’t remember much, a pleasant after effect of heavy drinking (you feel less guilty and embarrassed) which was primarily what I did in the last 4 days. Now at the end of it, more importantly at the seeming end of the painful and freezing train journey I feel more like Odysseus returning from Troy (..ahem.. fine what if it is a little exaggeration…its freezing here…and I did win an event and moreover 7 days out of XL is much worse than 11 years away from Penelope, at least at the end of it he got her back, while the grades I lost for missing more than 5 lectures are gone forever). &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Anyways Just as I was about of slide the fifth empty cup of tea under my seat I was simultaneously visited by two most terrifying creatures of the dark waters that flow through the Indian Railways ( sorry for the intended, but failed, resemblance with LOTR)- Eunuch &amp;amp;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;TTE. One went away after causing a negative cash flow of Rs 5 and showering some blessings on me, while the other was extremely let down by the sight of a valid ticket and left only after he was sure there was no way he can charge me with any fine. Once again I feel extremely jealous of my friends who are happily sleeping, even now! It’s a clean and beautiful day outside, less cold inside and I feel like that man who stood there in the pond all night looking at the distant lamp (refer to Birbal stories for more case facts). The long painful night is gone, and so is the charge of my laptop and there is a marked increase in people who are awake now and giving me those dirty looks of incredulity and wonder, which makes me feel that it’s the apt time to finish this blog here and resume my journey through the dreamlands. So long friends hope to write again… under better conditions probably! &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-4280044667720998856?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/4280044667720998856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=4280044667720998856&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/4280044667720998856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/4280044667720998856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2007/12/rise-and-shine.html' title='Rise and Shine...'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-2638064253317963462</id><published>2007-10-09T04:33:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-10-09T05:33:56.832+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Happy b'day!</title><content type='html'>Well since childhood days one of the happiest days of my life have been my b'days...and I guess same is true for most of us. But over the years I have noticed the feeling has changed. They say that - " as you grow you will know, there is price to pay for everything!! "... Yeah the price....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B'day @ class 1: You wear fancy little clothes..all colorful...your parents accompany you to school gate.... all the teacher wish you ... all your friends wish you... and wait for you to take the treasure out of your bag- a huge packet of melody chocolate!... I am quite sure I could have walked away with a murder on those days... and even God might have forgotten me!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B'day @ class 8: You don't wear fancy colorful clothes... (or might just... a function of the principle's strictness).. .your parents still want to drop you to school gate....but you feel you are too old for such stupidity...you still carry chocolates in your bag... and your friends still wish you... however if you happen to be in a co-ed school.... you b'day might just be a little more interesting- girls coming to wish you... a card suddenly finding its way in your bag, when you are off during lunch... or better still - a bar of Cadbury's dairy milk...with a little card marked in red.... and a girl...who is ready to flee away the moment she sees her friends coming !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B'day @ class 12: No fancy clothes... no chocolates... yes definitely lot of wishes.... and you treat  your frnds too in canteen- coke, patties etc... yes there might be cards... but the girl might not run away... she will rather tell you when her next coaching class is... but thats not the prime attraction, by then... you get introduced to a concept called- b'day bums! ..an extremely painful concept at that... more so because your friends are equipped with pointed leather shoes which can easily dig hole in concrete slabs! ...but then its bearable... its a new concept!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B'day @ engg college: Clock strikes 12  (night)... a war cry can be heard somewhere down the corridor..soon you hear the marching troopers coming down your corridor...moments later the door of your room will be thrown open.. and before you can even protest ... you are off the ground and rushed towards a relatively empty place which provides lot of leg room! Please note: wear only the worst pair of clothes you have.... you will soon have the entire football team lining up ...ready to practice their penalty shootout skills... this time with your ass! May God have mercy on the souls who have had b'day bums! After the fifth shot... you can easily understand what they mean by third degree! Your body will have several spasms... but until your tormentors are not satisfied... one kick will follow another....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B'day @ b-schools: Clock: 2 minutes to 12.... a yahoo buzz flies across the batch ids... " ... his b'day... come to the common room ...ASAP...wearing your best trekking shoes! " 2 minute is the average time which a typical student will take to put a halt on all his activities and rush to the crime scene! The rituals might vary from college to college.... but... it somewhat follows this order: 1. carry the poor guy on shoulder to the common room...2. create enough noise to attract newer talents. ..3.the first onslaught! ... 4. Let the bathroom water wash away the sins of the sinner !! 5. "Bring his roomie"... the God needs a sacrifice... his roomie is an apt one..!! 6. Another round of showering.... 7. Then you go ahead to cut a cake.... hoping you will get some.... only to be surprised that you get the entire one.... on the face!!!! Anyways there are couple of more details to it-- such as gifts, toasts ... etc! Of course its quite a short and efficient ritual... which makes a big impact! For the next 3 days the poor chap can't sit properly in class... walk properly... wakes up in sleep if he turns over ... but then you are a grown up now... and you know every good things in life comes with a little pain/price! ... and you wait for your turn when you get to be the war lord and lead the army into the room of ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Such is life and its lessons... embedded in most austere things around us...waiting to be discovered... but you realize only when ... you get that kick in the ass !!!!! "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-2638064253317963462?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/2638064253317963462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=2638064253317963462&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/2638064253317963462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/2638064253317963462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2007/10/happy-bday.html' title='Happy b&apos;day!'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-9182673559213867063</id><published>2007-09-20T00:50:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-21T02:45:14.326+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The blue book</title><content type='html'>There is something about the Govt offices...whenever I enter one.. I am so filled with confusion and nervousness... which can't be expressed in words. Its probably just the reflection of how people working over there feel... neways... this blog is not to criticize our govt or public services... in fact if at all... this one should throw some good light on them...So without any further delay...I begin with my extra - ordinary journey to get my passport done!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The quest began sometime in 2004...after seeing some secret agent movie...may be one of the  'mission impossible' movies.... I was particularly intrigued by that colorful little books which our hero  showed with great pride... and wondered ...Can I get one!!??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways... many forms later... and after endless reminders from my family and friends... this time .. just before my term break... I took up the brave resolution.."is baar:  aar... ya ...paar".. I will get my passport done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 days...1 task... too many obstacles!!! ...&lt;br /&gt;Anyway like a true strategist and like the hero of that movie..I spent the first day testing the water... finding out which are the possible ways of getting a passport... quite confusing I must tell you... neways.. !!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By second day I was sure of the method... but needed some expert advice-"agents" before I could launch upon the daunting task.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third day: I reached the passport office at around 10:30 am. The queue was around a kilometer long... but neways...I had to join it... so I stood there. I planned to get my passport done under tatkaal scheme, which would have got me my passport in just a day.&lt;br /&gt;After an hour on the footpath of one of the busiest streets in kolkata as I entered, I very much expected to see a special reception committee for tatkaal..but well... there weren't any!! And then that good old confusion and nervousness gripped me... after many a question, and varied answers , I ended up in a queue which was probably longer than the last one- 'the queue to enquiry' Now you know I wasn't the only one confused!&lt;br /&gt;Well it was a close run against the time..somehow the seconds always ticked away faster than the pace of our queue.. and just before the guy at counter slammed the 'gone for lunch' sign on my face..I could catch few key words- 'line starts at 4am', 'only 60 tokens per day', ' only token holder gets to apply', 'Annexure F and Annexure I are must!'&lt;br /&gt;Rest of the day passed in familiarizing myself with the ways of getting affidavits from court and proving that I stayed in my house and nowhere else! Where else will I stay anyways!?!? and for what joy!??? But then they are dumb questions... so I prepared myself for the D-day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 4: 4:30 am : I was racing through the empty streets of Kolkata. It gave me such a kick to drive through road at 80Kmph where under normal circumstances 40 Kmph seems like a bliss... which ,well once again, I can't describe in words. I pretty much assumed that I will be the first fool for the day.. only to find... there were more... some 25 more.. and worse still there were few from the fairer sex! Now that suddenly made a light glow in the heart of a 'seasoned single'! After getting myself a place in the queue... I started planning of ways to talk to 'them'. Just then my dad offered to take my place in the queue and asked me to rest for a while in the car. Well it was an offer I simply couldn't refuse... thought I will have enough time in the morning anyways... and Dad will return  home by 6 .. and i will embark upon my dream innings!! ....&lt;br /&gt;Morning came... dad returned... I came back to the line at 6:30 am fully awake and alert to face all kinds of delivery... only to find that the bowlers were happily sleeping !!!!! Now thats mean on the part of whoever is there up somewhere!! but... well what can u do anyways! So I started calling up my friends and woke them up ... derived a sweet sadistic pleasure from it...&lt;br /&gt;At around 8:30 a newspaper wala came...I have never been happier seeing the newspaper in my life... while I was choosing a newspaper I noticed that 'they' were awake... then the manager in me got hold of me and I demanded in loud voice- "The Economic Times"..Poor newspaper vendor was at loss, he looked here and there hoping somebody would explain him that alien name, coz he was used to vernaculars or Telegraph or TOI. But I was adamant, as if I have never passed a single day without readin ET... but finally when the vendor was about to go having decided that I was a nut case...I steeped low down to TOI. This short stint was what they call as- "brand building exercise"...but to my despair with little or no visible effect!&lt;br /&gt;Time passed as I flipped through the pages hoping for a miracle... but none happened. I duly collected my token... went inside ... started arranging my documents only to realise I had left some back at home!!!!!! Now why does this always happen to me!!!??? WHY???&lt;br /&gt;Neways ... post a mad - rash driving through the busy roads of kolkata..pleading to the guy across the counter ...another bout of nervousness and 2 hour later.. I had submitted my form and collected the receipt and also got the great news- delivery date for passport- very next day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So next day like a student waiting for his final marks I paced up and down the room till my name was announced! Finally at 6: 06: 15 pm... I got to touch my passport for the first time... It was a prized possession... enough to make anyone on this wide planet jealous... it was my treasure ....  'my precious'!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-9182673559213867063?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/9182673559213867063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=9182673559213867063&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/9182673559213867063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/9182673559213867063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2007/09/blue-book.html' title='The blue book'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-7876978199095716292</id><published>2007-09-03T05:19:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-04T01:54:13.530+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The disease ...</title><content type='html'>What is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;D&lt;/span&gt;? obvious answers are : an alphabet, a movie, differential(if u r the nerd types)... but when u hear - debt.. depreciation..as the response...u tend to feel a little uncomfortable.&lt;br /&gt;What is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CC&lt;/span&gt;? Computer Center (Shrik said with a grin! ), carbon copy.... naaah! ...cost of capital! These are some of the symptoms of a very grave disease - &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ER&lt;/span&gt;! (equity research) and it is likely to affect those who have some particular fancy for things called securities and portfolios. Of course some people still manage to get away... but then not all are the "great one".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya so as I was saying.. as end terms became more and more real... we started realizing that deadlines can't be postponed any further... and that is when it all began. A certain tribe of people... with the certain liking as mentioned above...started this buzz word around campus... ER! and then the most common topic of discussion suddenly converged and all you can hear people talking is-  some random fin jargons with some funky company name associated with it. Here are some excerpts of it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scene 1: Night canteen: I suddenly saw a guy coming towards GH 3 hostel..drunken steps.. looking completely lost... as if he suddenly found himself in an alien world ... guys comes closer and I realise :   Jesal! what happened dude?&lt;br /&gt;From the looks of it seemed that he had just been nuked.. but he explained.... ER! His team mate- sutta and shiv had deserted him mid way and now only he and neha were left with the huge task ... hence his disheveled state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scene 2: A room in LH: 3 girls inside: topper, banker and IT freak! I made the mistake of entering that room ..5 minutes in that room and I was wondering ... where the hell am I??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Unlevered  cost of capital is equal to levered cost of capital"&lt;br /&gt;"Lets calculate our own wacc"&lt;br /&gt;Then I witnessed a classic case of industrial disputes.. workers forming unions and going on strikes..Often heard questions were - " why should I do this?".."why should I tell you?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Topper felt sudden surges of good and very good mood... she would keep humming some song or the other .. they varied from : " happy birthday to you... "..to ..Nerolac jingles...to certain pussy cat's hit single!&lt;br /&gt;Banker: What have I done?&lt;br /&gt;IT freak: What have u done da?&lt;br /&gt;Topper: Our valuation is screwed  up da!&lt;br /&gt;Banker(with great deal of confidence): I am flunking in SAPM!&lt;br /&gt;Topper (stopping mid way between her rendition of some song by usher): I am NOT flunking in SAPM!&lt;br /&gt;IT freak( unaware of this conversation): How can a bank lend at 1% interest???&lt;br /&gt;Banker (in nursery teacher mode): Write I divided by 1 plus 1 by D by E....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then all of a sudden there was this frantic search for someone called ... KD.... I was almost going to send out a grp buzz ..only to realize .. its some abbreviation for cost of debt.. and not....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then as expected there was some typical K'series dialogues:&lt;br /&gt;Banker: Who put this figure here... U topper .. didnt u?&lt;br /&gt;IT freak: Actually it was me!&lt;br /&gt;Banker ( heart broken) : "Noooo, I can't believe it ... "&lt;br /&gt;Topper sitting silent with the "i told you so" look on her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some random comments:&lt;br /&gt;Topper: "These girls ... I tell you... have no brains!"&lt;br /&gt;Banker: Dont tell topper that I am finished with my part... ..she will give some more work&lt;br /&gt;IT freak: Give me Nerolac's MD's number I will call him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you know why I ran out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scene 3: Night canteen (again!) : Shiv enters, totally red in face... wearing highly provocative dress! Sutta stopped having Maggi and stared at him.. waiting for those golden words... "Abbe chal kaam pe lag! "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was convinced that this is the worst thing that could have happened to the budding fin studs of tomorrow.. when a IR friend of mine (Aseem) introduced me to the concept of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SAR:&lt;/span&gt; Self Assessment Report&lt;br /&gt;"See what you do is take 20 inventory about urself.. fill each of them... write report on each of them... figure out the theme from each of the report.. that will give you some of ur traits .. then group them up ...select suitable job profile for each of them .. then look at all such fitting job profiles and derive a overall perfect job profile..... "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now there is a tough competition there... SAR vs ER! Between them these two diseases have kept the entire batch on toes before the exam.... Now you must be wondering what this fool is doing writing blogs... doesn't he have any work to do?? I have only 1 thing to say in my defense: Mar - Strat ... Rocks! ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-7876978199095716292?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/7876978199095716292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/7876978199095716292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2007/09/disease.html' title='The disease ...'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-7805388270421028908</id><published>2007-08-23T23:10:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-08-24T00:02:04.670+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Snapshots...</title><content type='html'>Before joining a b-school:&lt;br /&gt;Rupam: "Bass ab to life set hai.... b-school... aur kya chahiye?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: " Dude... i have heard its too rigorous out there... after 4 years of engg i think it will be really tough"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1st term in b-school somehow nearing its end:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dilip: Damn it was too fast...&lt;br /&gt;Me: Too furious...&lt;br /&gt;Sushant: We will study from day 1 ...next term...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2nd term : after the summer placements&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dilip: We should start studying now...&lt;br /&gt;Sushant: hmmm....&lt;br /&gt;Me: When is the wet nite starting ??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3rd term : Seniors left... campus is so empty....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sushant: Dude... just think .. 1 year from now...&lt;br /&gt;Dilip: can we think of the exams ...which is 1 week from now...&lt;br /&gt;Me: We will have good fun in Mumbai.... summers!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Post Summers: The day before coming back to college..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sushant: We don't have a second to waste when we go back ...&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hmm....&lt;br /&gt;Sushant: Its either sports or party!&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hmmm...! (hic! )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4th term :Almost gone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dilip: Dude do you think I can manage 8 course in 5th term ??&lt;br /&gt;Sushant: It will be tricky...with SIP for juniors ..sports meet... 4 wet nites... 2 trips to calcutta...durga puja trip... diwali.... how about settling for 7?&lt;br /&gt;Me:  You think he can manage 5 course in 6th term...???&lt;br /&gt;Dilip : NO WAY !!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Certain wise man said ...once...okk may be twice: " My Son if you seek knowledge...let the quest not be limited to your school days...or college days.... or post graduate days.... let it go on forever..." .. Yeah rite we believe in it too...... ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-7805388270421028908?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/7805388270421028908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/7805388270421028908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2007/08/snapshots.html' title='Snapshots...'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-3697575291563664480</id><published>2007-08-08T15:31:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-04T01:51:48.836+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Conspire and Aspire.. (ii)</title><content type='html'>There are two problems of writing a "part II" :&lt;br /&gt;1. By the time u sit down to write it.... all the details seem to have blurred away.. and u are left there wondering - " did this happen or is it just my imagination?"&lt;br /&gt;2. By the "sequel rule" ( which states that all there is 80% chance that a sequel will suck compared to the first one - propounded by : Stiff  'n' Spill-bug)   my second attempt at continuing the story telling will definitely kill you, if first one has only bored you....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways.... like that guy in Pepsi ad...who thinks - " mera gana hit hai.."... I choose to live under similar illusions and continue from where I left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'She' arrived in jamshedpur on 2nd Aug at around 6:30 pm. Till around 4 pm we were confused as to where to put her up till that final moment came. After lot of deliberation and consultation among ourselves we narrowed down on two option: 1. Put her up in Jhumur's Room (Mossad agent: Deadliest of all.... 1 look and you are flat out...) , 2. A safe house in Sakchi (Read: Hotel Smita)  Finally the choice was made by "she" : safe house. So at 6:30 Sushant , Dilip and myself were there on platform number 2 of station waiting for the train to come. We had already checked our exit plan 5 times, that would be:  in an old jalopy, which kind of moves faster than cycle and as fast as TVS mopeds.. which Sushant had remodelled as - Maruti Alto. So finally the train came and i had the honor to meet...the "She".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The final plan was simple: all the of us including shashank leave at 1030 hours for The Regent- at 1120 : I leave to pick up Preeti and return by 1145- at 1159 we attack!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should have seen Dilip that evening, all excited and enthu. That reminds me, I have made a big mistake, I havent introduced Dilip, Shashank and Preeti yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dilip: (The architect): A TeleCom engineer from Mumbai- fresher- single- and definitely looking! I always thought that I am one of the most unorganized and messy guys  in campus... until I met Dilip. There was a point when there were so many stuff lying on his bed belonging to different people ( that includes him too... )...that I often wondered if the 'Lost and Found' section had shifted to my room ... There is one more thing absurdly alarming about him - he never gets angry- his mood varies between - normal to damn happy.... scary isn't it!!!??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shashank: ( The family Guy): Looking at shashank you know exactly how you will look when you are happily married and settled in life.. ( not that he looks that old... ) His daily routine must include: sleep, food and 4 hour long session on phone ( with our KGB agent of course)....everything else is variable. He is kind of Vishwamitra of our group .. no Menaka/apsara can distract him...A person who has travelled up and down the central line of Mumbai local train route...every day - twice a day... for 2 months during summers.. need I say more .... but here he is happily unaware..."shikari kab yahan shikaar ban gaya"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Preeti: (The Lady in Red): With permission from due authorities I take this opportunity to write about the 'shikari's ' journey from mumbai to kolkata and back.... 1 months of planning... 1 month of careful deception... 1 week of suppressed laughter over phone.... 2 days of excitement...1 day that never seemed to end and then probably passed too soon.... 1000 volt smile ... a great attitude ...and finally about a total devil without the horns and tail. Ya I guess that will be my version of our KGB chief - Preeti ( Harpreet) ... kind of skewed i know...but then I am not the right person to do that... contact our very own family guy for that....!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways we pinned down the bakra ( shashank) to a corner seat in Cinnamon so that he can't see who is entering  through the door. Time passed - I left at 1120 ... came back at 1140 .. got the cake 1150... Preeti called up shashank at 1152.. hung up 1158.... Bagchi  got prepared with his camcorder  at 1156 ....Preeti and i entered with the cake ...1159......10..9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..1.... Shashank went down.... Happy B'day Shashank!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't describe the look on Shashank's face... he had the shock of life.... and was happy like hell... but everything got mixed...all emotions... happiness... surprise... everything.. and only thing he could utter for next 15 minutes - " Ooooh shiiiiiit!!" ofcourse we had a great time... laughing our heads off... raising toasts to our victory... and capturing every moment. I knew i had something to take shashank's case for the rest of his life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the next 3 days Shashank was nowhere to be seen.... Professors realized once again that viral fever was doing its round in hostel.... Kisley couldn't get his bike for next 3 days...and of course we got a grand treat!!  Its been 4 days since preeti left.... I can still see the reminiscence of that smile on his face..... reminds me of that ad - " something in life money can't buy.... for everything else......"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-3697575291563664480?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/3697575291563664480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=3697575291563664480&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/3697575291563664480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/3697575291563664480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2007/08/conspire-and-aspire-ii.html' title='Conspire and Aspire.. (ii)'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-6688021626528513546</id><published>2007-08-02T21:13:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-08-06T12:59:24.404+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Conspire and Aspire...</title><content type='html'>Why do we watch corny movies ? I know you would say - " I don't! I am very particular about the movies I watch" or you might say - " Movies are for entertainment.. relax and chillax.. why bother so much? " ..or some other variant of these... The truth is - life is kind of bland most of the days... and we keep looking for some red hot chilly peppery stuff which will spice up our life ... even if it lasts for 2 hours and costs 200 bucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that much for movies but stretching my theory ( i know.. i know... its not mine... i am not a bloody philosopher that i will come up with philosophies and theories at a age of 22... ).. a little bit we can probably see why we take so much trouble just to surprise some one a little... make our life a little 'filmy' and savor those moments when the victim is sitting there stunned because he always thought you to be a practical, not too adventurous types...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok.. I will come to the point i am trying to make... one of these days suddenly Dilip ( my ex- roomie and present next door neighbor) came and asked me - " Shashank ka birthday kab hai? " Trust me I suck at it... remembering b'days that is ... I somehow manage to remember mine and my parents' and even then my mom, knowing me, keeps dropping a hint or two reminding me her and my dad's b'day... I told you  I suck at it..... Yeah ..so I, as expected, tried to show as if I remembered it all along and was only testing Dilip. " I know you don't remember.. don't worry .. Even i didn't remember", Dilip said grinning. Its always nice to find a fellow 'birthday forgetter'. "Its on 3rd Aug and guess what .. Preeti  told me ... she is coming here to surprise him", Dilip told me as if we were fellow KGB agents standing right in the middle of CIA headquarters. And here is my second weakness... remembering name.. somehow I can't manage to remember more than 100 names....and people I meet are mostly the ones whose name don't figure in the first 100... anyways!! .. After a moment of desperate search through my Grey cells (or wherever they store names).. and taking cue from Dilip's expression , I said - " his girlfriend?" " Yeah!!!! " , Dilip said with a sigh of relief and continued   " But its classified. Nobody knows except Sushant and Bagchi".  Sushant and Bagchi are our fellow KGB agents. It is only apt that I give a brief description of both of them here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sushant : He can doze off as fast as superman can fly... and he is perpetually enthu about anything and everything that is happening - when he is awake of course!! ..  He is one of those who doze off in every lecture and in the middle of nowhere wakes up and asks a question.. ( an intelligent one .. mind that! ) .., to professor's despair, and would go back to sleep even before professor has opened his mouth to answer him ... But a strategist at heart and a resourceful fellow otherwise....... he is a very important asset of KGB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bagchi: I am Bagchi... Shamik Bagchi... Well no body really hears the second part... even before that... they start wondering which is bigger - their face or Bagchi's bicep?? Well Bagchi does command attention... Dude you can't take the risk of doing it any other way!!! Anyways he is not what he looks like .. a poet at heart and a true lover of books ( mostly the ones that belong to course reference list ).. He is also a truly romantic fellow... if you dont believe me go ask that junior gal!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ya so now you know the line up and how we were making plans to nail that CIA agent- Shashank ! led by his own lady love ...who of course is an undercover KGB agent ( by the way...aren't all agents supposed to be under cover... neways!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Days kept passing and Dilip kept posting us with the latest updates. Ok 'She' has booked her tickets... 'She' has asked us to book a room in MDP... Dude, what are the plans for the D-day 'She' is asking for it ???....She is coming today evening ... Where is the car to pick her up.... We always referred to her as 'She'... you know for security reasons and all..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways 'she' is here... and the stage is set .....after days of hard work ...KGB is ready to make that final blow on that CIA agent..... at 12 today...with a pound of cake as the weapon of choice...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(to be continued ...)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-6688021626528513546?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/6688021626528513546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=6688021626528513546&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/6688021626528513546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/6688021626528513546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2007/08/conspire-and-aspire.html' title='Conspire and Aspire...'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-3638738050962652136</id><published>2007-07-26T15:58:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-07-26T16:14:48.403+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Nostalgia...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;If life was ever a road…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;If goals were so elusive as now…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I hope I have you always on my side…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;To guide me and show me the way…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;To keep me going through the night&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And fall like rain on scorching summer day…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;‘Coz you  remind me of sanity…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When the world stop making any sense – Nostalgia!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-3638738050962652136?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/3638738050962652136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=3638738050962652136&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/3638738050962652136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/3638738050962652136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2007/07/nostalgia.html' title='Nostalgia...'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2290561709219524631.post-1803446415709658347</id><published>2007-06-26T00:31:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-06-26T00:38:20.402+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Tale of a second:</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;There are events in our life which are defined in a moment. They just happen, and probably on a hind sight a lot of events can be traced back to that one moment. Hence this blog on the tale of a second... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Recently I saw the movie - Butterfly Effect... going by marketing theory i am worse than a "laggard"in this case; but even then- better late than....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;What our illustrious lead character was trying to do was to create a chain of events that would be better than the existing...perfecting what has been done.... All he had to do was decide which moment to change and so after a loss of substantial amount of blood (mostly through nose)... he had a different life sometimes better ..but mostly much worse than the life before!... But probably the main point director wanted to drive home was the importance of small moments which play big roles in our lives.... It is those insignificant moments which define our furure significantly!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Hmmm... too much of gas! .. i guess a necessary evil for every budding manager! Life sometimes is so fast that you dont even remember what happened the same day in the morning...forget about the last day... but then... there are times..when every second seems to be more than a movie... you can actually stop it..take a look around... take a sip of ur favorite drink...and replay it!...I still remember that moment...or the momentary lapse of reason..which led me into it... however it will remain as clear in my memory...as probably...one of my sweetest memories ever! No it wasnt sweet...on a hindsight...it could have been much worse...well it wasnt..( as if its not bad enough!!)... taking a 90 degree turn at 60 kmph is not so dangerous.. but with 6 people in your car...with the foot pressed on the accelator.. not so pleasant either... i can remember every second of it.. how the car slowly went out of control....how my confidence( over-confidence..) gave way to a potential major accident.. when the first impact came i was too tensed and focussed even to accept it...it had hit a stone slab!...front right wheel... whaam! the car turned in the middle of the road... using the axle as its fulcrum the car turned...when i first saw it...how i wished butterfly effect was not a fiction and a reality... trust me i wud have given anything just to turn back time... live it again...but then i was struck there... with a bunch of supportive but shocked friends... I often wonder what is worse for parents/friends... the apparent loss of money..of a rather long term loss of faith!!?? well faith shud be the answer...but then,, what they dont get is that the person concerned deserves a better trial.. more than just a chance to prove himself right..he needs a second chance ..when his faults will be ignored..... and walla...my prayers were were answered!!..which led me to another confusion... which is worse... ur conscience playing the same sad video again and again..to make you realise...to analyse the mistakes you made...or a real good blast from...???? well conscience wins hands down!! no comparison..at all!! that second well i dont know what happened..but then i got to live with it...all becoz of a second!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2290561709219524631-1803446415709658347?l=100-lies.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/feeds/1803446415709658347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2290561709219524631&amp;postID=1803446415709658347&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/1803446415709658347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2290561709219524631/posts/default/1803446415709658347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://100-lies.blogspot.com/2007/06/tale-of-second.html' title='Tale of a second:'/><author><name>An idle mind's wasted lines...</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05979909751380505634</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
