tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32949189009542446502024-02-08T08:20:37.493+05:30My World..my Sensemindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-52430707404797023332022-07-21T15:27:00.002+05:302022-07-21T15:27:31.823+05:30The Anything Guy<p> <span style="text-align: justify;">I am the anything guy. So, when I
got to a bar with a friend and the bartender asks me what you would like to
have, my instinctive response is ‘Anything’. But after experiencing awkward
looks from the bartender few times, I have realized that I need to be more
specific. So, I wait for my friend to place his/her order and then blurt out, “The
same one for me”. I can drink whisky, I can vodka, I can drink beer and I can
drink rum as well. I am not averse to drinking anyone of them and is not in
love with any of them, so I struggle to be specific in such cases. Perhaps,
that explains why I hate shopping. That requires you to be lot more specific: Sir,
what kind of jeans are you looking for? Straight fit or Slim? Bootcut or wide? mid-rise
or low rise? ripped? Faded? My response “Anything which you think would look
good on me”. I am sure customers like me are the dream customers for those
shopkeepers. They can sell junk from their store to me without me protesting
about it. No wonder, when I had to buy a car, I went for the same model which
one of my friends was using. For a guy like me the cost of search while buying
something is too much. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I hate those
questions about favorites: Which is your favorite color? Which is your favorite
food? Which is your favorite movie? Which is your favorite car? Which is your
favorite vacation spot? The list goes on and on.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">At work, ‘the anything will do guy’ has both
advantages as well as disadvantages.
While you could be termed as flexible and adaptive guy who can work on
anything, you are likely to be pushed around to the work who no one else wants
to do. Working on a variety of stuff, gives you the width of knowledge, but
hoping around from one thing to another, does not provide the depth of
knowledge. This ‘anything will do’ attitude is so much ingrained in me that if
someone asks me, would you like to have sex with a man or a woman, my response
will be “Hmm, anything will do!” </span>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-44670993433030062762012-05-12T21:38:00.000+05:302012-05-12T21:38:11.555+05:30Being Fit and Fine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Regularity
and punctuality are two virtues which I have always been chasing but could
never get hold of it. This has been demonstrated through so many things in my
life. I could never get up early any day and would always be punished for coming
late to school. I have almost missed my flight couple of times, almost missed
bus and train countless number of times. I have always ended up been SIT i.e.
Somehow In Time (a mutation of JIT where the delay is unintentional and
unplanned).</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This has
always failed me in having a long lasting fitness regime. Long back I tried
working out in a gym every day. I started doing it in the morning. By the time
I had barely finished two weeks, I realized that I got up late 4 days and could
work out for barely half an hour. For two days, I got up so late that forget
about working out, I had to go to college without even taking bath. So I
started working out in the evening. But even that could last for hardly 2
months while bunking gym in between for all kinds of reasons including stomach
pain, fever, raining outside, going out with friends, attending wedding
receptions, birthday parties, watching movie, finishing college submissions on
last day, etc. Gyming in the evening meant that I had to take shower after
that, which meant that bathing in the morning is not essential. And that meant that
I could sleep till last in the morning. :D Then came my university exams and that
provided me a perfect excuse to take a break from gym. Never thought that break
would be so long that it would last till today </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">:(</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I happened to read an article in one of the
issues of Men’s Health magazine last week. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">That makes me think of doing Yoga now. God knows for how many days that will last </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">even if I start doing it at all</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> ! Fingers crossed !</span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
</div>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-67434365543121190082012-03-03T23:25:00.001+05:302012-03-03T23:29:10.668+05:30The Dilemma<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-IN</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>MR</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:dontvertaligncellwithsp/> <w:dontbreakconstrainedforcedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> <w:word11kerningpairs/> 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mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US" lang="EN-US">After having a sumptuous dinner and couple of drinks of their favorite cocktails at an exquisite multi cuisine restaurant on a Sunday evening, Sameer was abruptly moved from the flirtatious and romantic world on the seventh cloud to the hard hitting practicalities on the earth when he saw the bill presented to him by the charming waitress with a grin on her face. While handing over his credit card to her, he blurted “Your maintenance cost is becoming unbearable for me these days!” Pallavi smirked and snapped him saying “And you still bear it when you know that it’s going to be a dead investment with no returns!”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US" lang="EN-US">Sameer faked ignorance and was staring at the waitress whose gait would make any man stare at her arse.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In a spontaneous response, Pallavi leaned forward on the table and clicked her fingers in front of Sameer while saying “Shall we move??”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US" lang="EN-US">Exactly 4 days before, at 6:30 am in the morning, when Sameer was still lying in his bed, his cell phone ranged. He picked up the call and got to hear “Happy Birthday Sameer! “ <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He and Pallavi talked for almost half hour on that call. As usual their conversation was full of arguments. Pallavi insisted on Sameer giving her a party on his birthday in Delhi. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Sameer refused saying he does not have time and money to fly all the way from Bangalore to Delhi and do a favor on a girl who doesn’t even qualify to be his girl friend. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Pallavi hit him back saying that their friendship was a tragic mistake committed by her and she would prefer to be a nun in the church rather than becoming his girl friend. He called his trip to be a dead investment if he would do it. “You would be in Delhi in next 7 days for giving me a party “, this was the last line she spoke before hanging up the phone. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>On the same day in the afternoon, Sameer received a parcel in his office through courier. It was from Pallavi. When he opened it, he was delighted to see 5-6 music CDs in the box. They had covers of his all time favorite artists such as John Lennon, Bob Marley, Jim Morison, Guns N Roses and Led Zeppelin. However his joy was short lived. Soon he realized that those were just covers of the CDs. At the corner of the box was lying a Nike shoe along with a note saying ‘Throw me a party in Delhi on the coming weekend to get the CDs and the other shoe of the pair. Happy Birthday!’ Sameer smiled to himself and booked the return flight tickets for the weekend. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The thought that he could buy all that stuff in Bangalore for the cost less than the return flights for Delhi did not even cross his mind. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US" lang="EN-US">After the dinner, Pallavi drove Sameer to her home. They were teasing and fighting with each other along the way. When they reached her home, Pallavi gifted him the stuff missing from the parcel and told him that she kept her word. Sameer replied sarcastically that he was dying to get this stuff. He could have never purchased it in his life! <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Both bid good night to each other and went to their bed rooms. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Five minutes later, Sameer came to her room. He looked at her. He turned and was about to exit the room. He stopped for a moment and confessed to her “Pallavi, all the things I told you about the Russian babes in Goa are untrue. I did not even meet any of them.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Pallavi got up and hugged him from back. Caressing his neck and mane with her hands, in a hushed voice, she told him “And all the things I told you about Yuvraj have never happened. Yes I know Yuvraj and still dream about him at night.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But sadly he doesn’t even know me and obviously he wouldn’t even be thinking about me. Although he would be having lot of spare time these days since he is not playing cricket for last six months.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Moments later Sameer kissed her on lips and hugged her tightly. Soon they were inside her bed wrapped under the blanket. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US" lang="EN-US">Sameer got up early in the morning at 6. He rushed to Airport to catch his return flight. He did not even wake her up before leaving. Later in the day, around 1 pm, Sameer got an SMS from Pallavi saying “I did not go to office today.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US" lang="EN-US">Sameer replied with the capital letter “Y”.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US" lang="EN-US">Pallavi texted him back saying “Because I slept till late in the morning. You did not let me sleep last night “.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US" lang="EN-US">Sameer replied “Yeah Baby. My fire on the bed would have kept you awake the whole night: P”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US" lang="EN-US">Pallavi replied “No bastard. You were snoring so loudly the whole night!!”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US" lang="EN-US">Sameer replied “Ha ha ..LOL :D” when he could have replied asking her why did she not move to the other bedroom then.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US" lang="EN-US"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US" lang="EN-US"> </span></p>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-42859968589695988552012-01-05T10:08:00.003+05:302012-01-05T10:34:53.061+05:30The LongingYour smile is cute and your eyes are naughty<br />Your talks are intelligent and your touch is sexy<br />Your hug is warm and it feels so cosy<br />Your games are dangerous but they are funny<br /><br />You expect me to make moves which I Don't<br />Every time I fail I promise next time I Won't<br />That disappoints you and you move backwards<br />The swings of your mood makes it go downwards<br /><br />I wish to know your heart even if you don't speak a word<br />But when I speak to you I find myself short of words<br />Please hold my hand and walk with me for sometime<br />Even if it may not last for the lifetimemindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-40587606210585702392011-04-23T21:59:00.001+05:302011-04-24T02:56:36.173+05:30I am sick of<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I am sick of </span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Smiling to the persons I hate so often</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Listening intently to the crap they have spoken</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Remaining silent when I wish to scream</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">And waiting for the weekend to let off the steam</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I am sick of</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Being accommodative to people around me</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Meeting expectations to make them happy</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Behaving as the ideal when I am just an ordinary</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">And controlling my emotions when it gets onto my nerves</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I am sick of </span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Numerous battles inside the mind</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The hard choices life compels me to make</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The cynical devil killing excitement in life</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">And the remorse towards the human kind</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I am sick of</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Feeling lonely in the company of loved ones</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The memories of past that haunt my future</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Longing for someone who never gonna return</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">And waiting for a miracle that won’t happen </span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">But deep down inside</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Life still thrives on hope</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Wishing for the sunshine</span></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">To brighten me with its dope!</span></p>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-30211096077074579232010-12-29T15:18:00.003+05:302010-12-31T16:54:32.100+05:30Memories of 2010As this years comes to close, I tried to rewind it in my mind and here is what I could recall..<br /><strong>2010 has been a year in which </strong><br />I realized that sins of past haunt your future. I made a come back to the IT world after finishing my MBA :(<br />I boozed a lot ! Visited Goa twice in a span of 3 months :)<br />I missed Delhi for quite some time. Missed its road, food, friends, winter and girls :(<br />Munni hui badnam aur sheela hui jawaan :P<br />The heroes of Indian sport management, Lalit Modi and Suresh Kalmadi turned into villains :(<br />Sachin made half century of centuries =D><br />Germany once again failed to lift FIFA world cup :(<br />For a change female sport persons were in spot light. Saina and Sania, the biggest of them :)<br />I discovered that I am getting older if not mature :(<br />Celebrated Diwali with my family after a gap of five years :)<br />2G and 3G became part of colloquial language of Indians :(<br />I got upgraded from a black and white cell phone to an HTC Smartphone :)<br />Lots of my friends got married and tried to convince me for the same, after all, suffering loves company :))<br />I tasted fish for the first time and realized that nothing can beat chicken :)<br />Neither my weight nor my bank balance improved :(<br />The year which would be known for the rajnikant jokes :D<br />I discovered that Love is transient but lust is permanent :P<br />I started living in Pune, the city I always wanted to settle down but realized that the city has lost its charm to some extent :(<br />The Onion prices made come back to headlines after a gap of 12 years :(<br />I watched most horribly made, crappy movies in the cinema halls. Dabang, Rakht Charitra, Break ke baad, we are family, Tees Maar Khan, Action Replay to name a few of them :(<br />In short, one more year down the drain :(<br />Best wishes for 2011 :)<br />I hope that I have something better to write in Dec 2011 :)<div><br /></div><div>P.S : Today on the last day of 2010, when I read this post once again, I realized that its such a poorly written shitty post. So apologies for the same !</div>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-37652384294031263832010-11-21T19:13:00.001+05:302010-11-22T17:52:24.658+05:30Ramblings of a crazy mind<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I think of growing my hair long and the next day I cut them short..<?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I start my day with plans of doing loads of meaningful work in my office and shelve off those plans after checking my mails in the morning..<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I eagerly wait for the weekends to make me feel better and Sundays become restless and boring as ever..<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I sometimes think of writing mails to her but then I don’t even properly reply to her mails..<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">At times I feel homesick and miss my mom but I don’t speak much to her when I am at home..<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I wanna drink whisky when I am having beer and I wanna drink vodka when I am having rum..<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Clothes, mobiles and cars don’t excite me anymore and I think of reaching Himalayas for sure..<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I promise myself of blogging more often and I don’t write anything so often..<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I decide to get married this year and married folks remind me of benefits of being a bachelor..<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I think of calling my friends tonight and I postpone those plans as its late night..<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I dream to live my life to the fullest and I fear of waking up as the dawn breaks..<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></p>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-35264207126552324282010-09-06T09:21:00.001+05:302010-09-06T09:25:44.825+05:30Every Dog has its Day, Every Day !<div align="justify">Ever heard of the phrase ‘every dog has its day’. Well, I would like to expand it to ‘every dog has its day everyday’. Yeah, I mean it literally as that seems to be the reality these days. The obsession with the pets is a latest trend in the society. If you happen to go to meet a relative or an old friend at his house and if that person happens to possess a dog, you are most likely to be bored with the incessant talk of praise about that so called intelligent, obedient, cute and lovely bitch or son of a bitch! All your efforts to divert the discussion would meet with little success until you also join the party in appreciating that canine soul who has blessed you friend and his family with its existence on the earth. If you try to keep the dog away from you, you will be coaxed by your friend to touch, hold it in your hands and caress it. Otherwise you run the risk of being labeled as a coward, animal phobic or a spoilsport. The only excuse which can save you is that you are allergic to the dogs. But that also does not work with old friends. I don’t have any problems if someone likes to have pets. But it’s the disproportionate amount of attention and importance which they provide to their pet compared to its functional utility that baffles me. People say that dogs are useful to protect your house from being filched by thieves especially at night time. But I really doubt the validity of this argument. I have not heard a single case of a thief being caught because he was attacked by a dog when jumping over the fencing of a house at late night hours. In fact, the large number of false alarms raised by the dog while barking at any stranger passing the street must be making the house dwellers ignorant about it. Like small babies at home, dogs also serve the purpose of exhibitions. Like the babies in the house, you are supposed to shake hands (your hand and its leg) with the dogs also, watch with awe and amusement how they dance to the tunes of a song, appreciate their intelligence and obedience in following the orders of their owners, listen intently about their hygiene, food, vaccination and even barking. Moreover, the dogs across India seem to be possessed by colonial hangover. It seems that they can only understand English, so their owners are compelled to instruct them in the same language. The dogs also serve as the status symbol for the aspirants and members of crème la crème of the society. The money you paid to buy the dog is in proportion to rarity of breed of the dog. This in turn translates to more bragging opportunities for the owner. Everyone in India is aware of the fact that the rates of that particular breed of the dog which was shown in Vodafone advertisements increased exponentially when those commercials hit the air waves. You must have also seen TV programmes about the dogs owned by celebrities from Hollywood as well as Bollywood. In fact, one such dog helped to run the gossip mills in Bollywood when apparently Amir Khan revealed that his doggie is called Shahrukh. This provoked a battle of words between the two Khans. Perhaps things could have been different had Amir also mentioned how much he adores and cares about his puppy. We should also recognize that dogs are those noble creatures on this planet which are supportive of livelihood of millions of people who are involved in the professions of Veterinary science, Pet foods, toiletries, clothing, hair styling, training etc. They also give chance to fading female celebrities to hog lime light by featuring in PETA ads which arouse the animal instincts within me every time I watch them. If you believe in the God, you would agree with me that God comes to your help in the form of a human kind. Well, few days back, I realized that he can take form of an animal also, a Doberman in my case. That dog is the new addition to my boss’ family. And it bit him hard on his arse last Sunday!</div>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-13231081151027729052010-07-19T11:12:00.001+05:302010-07-19T11:14:33.444+05:30UDAAN - The stroy of a caged bird<div align="justify">Udaan portrays a heart touching story of a troubled relationship between a man and his son. It feels good to see many out of the league small to medium budget movies from Bollywood making their way to the screens of the multiplex these days. Udaan falls into that league. It’s a story of a 17 year old boy who gets expelled from his hostel and is forced to live with his estranged father whom he hasn’t met in last eight years. The film depicts the suffering, loneliness, angst and frustration of a young guy who is devoid of love from his single parent and longs to fulfill his career dream of becoming a writer against all odds. After Taare Zameen Par, here is another movie which deals with the problem of kids being burdened and almost suffocated under the pressure of parental expectations. The protagonist of the story, played brilliantly by Rajat Barmecha has to deal with a psycho, tyrant, violent, drunkard and self obsessed father who subjects the hero to physical and mental torture. After returning home, he is shocked to find out that he has got a six years old step brother. A fragile relationship of hatred between 2 immature teenagers turns into a strong bond of sibling love and affection during the course of the movie. The father assumes responsibilities of taking decisions from daily routine activities to career paths of his son. Any kind of resistance from the son is meted out with verbal and physical abuse. He almost treats his both sons as if they are his slaves. The protagonist has got an inborn talent to be a writer and his talent has been showcased at several times in the movie. However, his father makes every effort to prevent him from becoming a writer. Although it is difficult for me to imagine that such a devil-in-disguise father can exist in today’s world, a quick search of Google revealed to me a sad and shocking statistic that almost 35% of children in India suffer from the domestic violence at the hands of their parents. In spite of suffering from similar harsh treatment from his father in his childhood, the father of the protagonist in the movie has been shown to justify and follow the same path of violence in bringing up his kids. I expected the film to reveal the reasons for such behavior; however I could get only few clues about it. The film throws light on a classical problem of today’s middle class urban Indian family. The tremendous money and proportionate effort which parents have to put in to provide high quality of education to their children raises the stakes involved. Every parent expects his kid to excel in the field of academics. He expects his child to become successful in the popular and traditional careers and discourages him from following alternate career paths especially those related to liberal arts and humanity. Coming back to the film, the film has beautifully depicted the rebellion spirit of an adolescent boy who confronts his father many times. Those scenes are quite intense and appealed to my heart. As the story progresses further, few softer shades of the stone hearted father are unfolded in front of the audience. Very much characteristic of a teenager, the hero steals some moments of joy and enjoyment through his escapades out of home at night. He smokes cigarettes and drinks alcohol to distress and relax himself with his newly found friends at a bar. Those lighter moments are respite to the hero and the viewer in this otherwise intense and hard hitting film. The director has resisted himself from the temptation of showing an unrealistic and sudden change of heart at the end resulting into an all happy finish to the movie.<br />Overall I found the movie to possess a realistic look. The director, Vikramaditya Motwane has made an impressive debut and made a movie which creates a lasting impression on the minds of the viewer. The superb, natural acting by all the actors in the movie, accompanied by an engaging screen play makes it an outstanding movie. The soul stirring music by Amit Trivedi is awesome and in sync with the movie. The songs are according to the situation and help to take the story forward. Although I did not come out of the movie hall humming the songs, I would love to hear them whenever I am in a mood for that kind of music. If you are in a mood to watch a meaningful, heart touching, serious movie, I would recommend you to definitely watch this movie. I bet you won’t be disappointed. </div>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-73600074100616747622010-02-10T17:25:00.003+05:302010-02-10T19:07:51.639+05:30My Hostel life<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Two years of MBA is the first time I have ever lived in a hostel. So far it has been a roller coaster ride for me. All of you may have heard about the usual clichés related to hostel life such as shared accommodations, common toilets, ragging of juniors, shouting, chaos, fights, boozing, playing computer games, watching movies, messy rooms, and thefts and last but not the least, the unpalatable food. But you can truly appreciate them only if you have stayed in a hostel. On top of that if you happen to be a student representative for hostel and canteen, who is called as RAC (Residential affairs Committee) member in my college, then you would definitely learn a lot. By making such a claim, I am betting on the fact that you are a modest and sane human being who is ready to accept his mistakes and keen to learn from them, although your decision of becoming a RAC member itself might be termed as an act of insanity. By the way the literary meaning of the full form of the acronym RAC (Residential Affairs Committee, repeated once again to increase word count of my post and pamper my ego) member does explain one of his unwritten and untold responsibility of at least protecting, if not promoting, the affairs of the residential students on the campus and not grudge against them like other numerous single souls staying in hostel. The acts of these single men of venturing out into the virtual worlds of Yahoo chat rooms in search of fairer sex are often criticised as the manifestation of hunger for lust, but I would term it to be a side effect of nature’s curse of doping youngsters with high levels of testosterones. Anyways, the day I was asked to be a RAC member, I wondered what must have prompted my fellow hostel mates to do that. I am not a person who likes to linger in a fool’s paradise for long, hence I could quickly find out that apart from my affection towards alcohol (which was officially recognized by college authorities with a fine of 1000 rupees during the very first week of my hostel stay), I am not a very gregarious and extrovert person who has the persona of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sylvester_Stallone" title="Sylvester Stallone"><span style="text-decoration:none; text-underline:nonecolor:windowtext;">Sylvester Stallone</span></a> of Rocky I, II, III, IV to punch hard blows and make the unyielding college authorities and shrewd mess manager to accept innovative and never ending, but often unjustifiable, demands of the students . But the simple truth of the matter was that there was no one else ready to be a scapegoat. I know the phrase ’to be a doormat’ from my undergrad study days, but I could realise its true meaning after being elevated (as in chane ke ped pe chadhana) to the post of RAC. So if someone’s fan stops fanning him in the middle of the night, I should expect a knock on my door. And if the washing machine is not working (thanks to some moron who stuffed it with all he was having including a leather belt, 4 coins of five rupees, a pack of condom and a pair of sport shoes along with the usual <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>shirt and pant, before moving to the adjacent bathroom to take shower), expect another knock. If that is not sufficient, someone obsessed with cleanliness (perfectly suitable to be placed with the sanitation dept of NDMC) would come cribbing about his room being not cleaned properly. And there are many such maniacs obsessed with different things but yet staying in bonhomie in a boiling pot of multi lingual and multi cultural students called hostel. An ablutomaniac demands 24 hours hot water supply so that he can purify his entire body after wanking at multiple times during a day in winter. And there are <span class="apple-style-span"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:Tahoma;">dipsomania</span></span>cs who want consumption of alcohol within the campus to be made legal. And there are <span class="apple-style-span"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:Tahoma;">hydromania</span></span>cs who want water coolers to be installed on each floor. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And there are insomniacs who want to wonder in the woods of Sanjay Van after midnight when the main gate is closed. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And there are melomaniacs who play incomprehensible hard rock music at the deafening decibel levels to end up clashing with silensomaniacs (now that’s my addition to English language) at unearthly hours during night time.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Although Maslow’s theory of Hierarchical needs has been contested many times and the ancient Hindu spirituality advises to skip indulgence in the basic needs of food, water and shelter to pursue the higher goals of self actualisation and moksha, you won’t find anyone following this advice in the materialistic 21<sup>st</sup> century. At least not in the hostel of a B school. In fact the very purpose of seeking admission into a B school is to get keys to open the doors of a treasure of wealth and excesses which should last you forever. So the students staying in the hostel are keen to satiate their basic needs in best possible way (which is different for everyone), most important of it being food. But a hostel mess runs as a zero sum game where a Punjabi can enjoy his parathas and paneer tikkas by depriving a Mallu of having idli and dosa. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Hence the RAC members are always chasing an elusive dream of coming up with a menu that can satisfy all the students. They sit together and break their heads over all possible permutations and combinations of food items to create an ideal menu, only to realise later that it is more or less same as the previous one. They are supposed to play the role of a mediator in a game which I would call ‘who blinks first’. The students pissed off with the pathetic food refuse paying the mess fee and the mess manager is reluctant to improve without receiving mess fees from the students. In such deadlocks, RAC experiences an ordeal similar to that of a middle level manager.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">As they say every dog has its day (har kuttte ka din aata hai ), the RAC also gets his chance of acting to be pricey when the second year room allotment is to be done. But in spite of allotting a smaller room with no box-in-built beds to himself, he is accused of playing favouritism. In between, he is summoned by college authorities to curb the menace of smoking in the campus where he reverses the argument on its head to lobby for a dedicated smoking zone for the so called adult and mature residents of the hostel and attracts wrath of hostel warden.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">In hostel, birthdays are to be less enjoyed and more feared. Boys celebrate the birthday of their friends by kicking his ass without mercy till they get tired and pouncing on the cake to grab as much of its share as possible. The birthday boy would consider himself lucky if he even gets to know the taste of it. The interesting part is that the same guys would not hesitate from sharing their parathas, chips, biscuits, cold drinks and what not with each other on all other times.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The hostel life teaches you to be social, share everything with your friends and a sense of privacy is a rarity.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So you decide to have a clandestine booze party with your close friends in the hostel to avoid the eye of college authorities and the next day you find everyone talking about your groovy footloose dance in the verandas after every man in the party turned into a superman on the high spirits. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">But don’t get discouraged if you are planning to move to hostel anytime. The hostel life has its brighter side too. Sometimes you suffer from the panic attack before the exam and within one hour your room mate teaches you all the essential stuff to sail through the paper. You just screwed your interview with a dream company today and tonight you booze with your neighbour in the hostel to wash away the sorrows of the day. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>On a chilly winter morning, you enjoy sitting with friends in the sunshine in front of your room and blabber about anything from US Foreign policy to the difference between a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">bail and sand</i> (ox and bull). You enjoy watching hi quality video movies in the free time thanks to your friend who downloads it for you. At the end of every trimester, when your ass is on the fire, you sit through the nights in the hostel and finish your group assignments and presentations in the company of your friends. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You go out with them to explore all the food delicacies which Delhi has to offer. You make real close friends who know you inside out, whom you can trust blindly and whom you expect to help you any time in future. As only 45 days of my MBA are left now, I want to make the most of it. Create as many memories of my hostel life as possible so that I can cherish them for the rest of my life. </p><p></p>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-32688022120414750432010-02-09T15:52:00.006+05:302010-02-13T22:50:14.783+05:30A proverbial love story - Part 3<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">He was 22 years old and she was 24. Sameer was a spontaneous and crazy guy. He never allowed the teenager inside him to die. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He was still a mischievous and spoilt brat. Vaishali was a mature girl who grew up in a protected and controlled environment. She was a decent and obedient child of her parents. They were quite opposite to each other and perhaps that’s why they were attracted to each other. On their walks after the class, weekend hang outs and random dates, Vaishali was living her lost adolescent life once again. From getting drenched in the rains and eating ice creams after that to hitting all the pins <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>with a single throw of the ball in bowling alleys, from sharing jokes with each other through smses to <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>watching movies together, she enjoyed every moment of her escapades with Sameer. He had the charms of a next door guy, while she had the affection of a sweet girl friend. Life was never such exciting and so much of fun for her. On the other hand he was never cared, loved and felt to be so much special for someone before. From the roses made of the tissue papers in a restaurant to yawning during the class, everything of his was cute and lovely for her. From her soft and fair hands to the curves of the outer lines of her long and thin neck, everything was sexy and beautiful for him. He would fantasise about holding her tightly with the same hands from behind and kissing lightly on the same neck. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Once she had told Vijay about a friend of her called Sameer from the German class. But now days she was reluctant to talk about him with Vijay. It used to scare her, make heart beat faster, fumble and wonder what to say. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Sameer’s birthday was a week away. But he had already made plans regarding how he will spend his birthday night. He decided to spend it with Vaishali. She could easily figure out that Sameer was really up to something. He was quite excited about it. Perhaps, it was the right time for them to express love and commit to each other forever. But that was not going to be easy. Like Simran of DDLJ, her parents had already decided to hitch her with Vijay. But unlike Raj Malhotra of DDLJ, the charms of Sameer would not be sufficient to convince her parents. There were so many other issues. Sameer was not just Sameer but he was Sameer Khan. Although from a progressive Muslim family, he was still the guy who loved eating Mutton Biryani and Chicken kebabs. She was also not just Vaishali but Vaishali Kulkarni, the elder of the two daughters of a devout Brahmin family. She was 2 years older than him. He was still a college kid with no defined career path. Moreover he had plans of doing MBA after his graduation. There was no way she could defend her decision of parting ways with Vijay in front of her parents. In addition to that, was it just an infatuation or she was really in love with Sameer? More important was what if it turns out to be an infatuation or just a passing affair for Sameer. He was too good to be true for her. But she had never felt this way for anyone before. It is so tricky to find out the truth. The risks are too high. Either you have to separate from that person to miss him or her for the rest of your life and realise that it was more than an infatuation. Or you have to commit to the person to realise that you were not made for each other and carry the burden of an estranged relationship for the rest of your life. She was never so much confused in her life. It was becoming unbearable for her to continue like this. That day while coming to home after the class, she decided to pour her heart out in front of Sameer tomorrow, on his birthday. She prayed for his acceptance, but she decided to never question his rejection. When she reached home, she saw her ailing father who was suffering from cirrhosis, smiling at her; her elder brother with always frowned face, was wearing a big grin on his face and her perennially worried mother was ecstatic. She considered it as a good omen. She went and hugged her mother tightly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It was Sameer’s birthday and it seemed as if a new Sameer has been born that day. Instead of a round neck bright coloured T shirt sporting cartoon characters, he was wearing a blue full sleeves Louis Philippe shirt. The never washed and faded blue jeans was replaced by a black coloured Formal Trouser from Allen Solly. Instead of red canvas shoes, today one could see him wearing black leather shoes with sparkling shine. He was not just looking different, but was also behaving so differently. Instead of teasing and irritating Vaishali with his PJs, he was talking in a very decent and polite manner. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He was being appreciative and chivalrous tonight. One could see a peppy, chaotic teenager transforming into a mature and sensible guy who had taken the most important decision of his life and was ready to implement it. While savouring on the delicious three course dinner at an expensive restaurant, in a very casual manner, Sameer said, “I am thinking of abandoning the idea of pursuing MBA. I might lose focus of engineering study while preparing for MBA entrance exams. It’s better if I devote my time for preparing for the campus interviews. If I can get into a good company, I would earn a handsome salary and can settle down quickly in my life. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The CAT exam is just one month away and frankly speaking I have not studied anything for that. My mom and dad are quite old now and perhaps they need me and a daughter in law to take care of them.” Vaishali could sense that Sameer was creating a conducive background to pop the ultimate question. He was clearing all the possible doubts which could prevent Vaishali from saying yes. Vaishali did not utter a single word. She kept on listening to him intently. Sameer chuckled for a moment and taking a deep breath, he said “you know what … Ich liebe du.” It is still a mystery for me as to why some people decide to express their love in a foreign language. Probably it is the nervousness that prevents them from expressing it in their own language. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Vaishali dropped her spoon on the table; she moved her left hand on the table to hold Sameer. She kept on staring towards Sameer for a minute. She was not thinking about her response. She had already thought about it last night. All she was wondering was how to express it. Sometimes, it is best to convey some of the most serious things in a light manner. So she said, “But this is wrong. This is not acceptable…You just used the wrong form of the object pronoun in the sentence.” * For the first time Sameer thought that Vaishali was looking ugly. The fake smile on her face and the wet eyes filled to the brim with tears, were in contrast with each other. Sameer moved his hand backwards, away from the grip of her, he again chuckled for a moment and said” How can I learn all this when I have got a nice distraction in my class”.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After that, except for the clinking sound of the plates hit by the spoons, there was total silence till they finish their dinner. As they reached the bus stop to part their ways and reach their own destinations, Vaishali took out a box of sweets from her purse and offered them to Sameer. In a firm but sombre manner, she said “Have some sweets. Thanks to Vijay, yesterday my brother has finally got a job in Germany.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Since that day till today, 2 more birthdays of Sameer have passed so far. But he celebrated neither of them. Ironically, Vaishali for whom Sameer was ready to forego his ambition of MBA turned out to be his best inspiration to pursue it later. He kept himself totally busy with studies. His efforts were rewarded handsomely. He could get an admission into a premier B school and today, he was placed with Deutche Bank with a dream profile of an Investment Banker. He was supposed to spend his first year of the job in Germany. He was obviously happy. Meanwhile Vaishali got married with Vijay and has moved to Germany more than a year ago. She and Sameer were still in touch with each other though. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Once in a while, she would write an email to him and he would reply to it. He was happy to know that she was fine over there. That her husband loved her took care of her and provided her with all sorts of comforts. They were a happy couple now. He wanted to call her and tell the news of his placement. Now he had a chance of meeting Vaishali after 2 years. But he was in a dilemma about that as it was so difficult for him to lie in front of her. He did not want her to know about the façade of his hunky dory life which he had conveyed to her through the mails. He did not want her to know that he did not have a single girlfriend after her. That he still misses here now and then. That he has stopped eating butter scotch ice cream as it makes him long for her. That he still repents for letting her go so easily. That at times he feels that she was a coward who broke his heart and why should he still care about her. But the scarier scenario was of finding out her lies. What if she had also lied about her life in Germany? What if her life in Germany was not awesome but was in fact awful.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He could still muster courage to expose her to his lies but did he have the guts to confront her lies?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As the night grew, the chaos in his mind became severe, memories of past and thoughts of future started pulling his head apart in countless directions, he could not control himself. He hastily opened the bottle of whisky in his room and decided to get sloshed. He was now fast asleep with his mobile still clenched in one hand.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">P.S * - In German language, du means you and the correct form of du to be used with lieben verb is 'dich'. Hence the correct way to say 'I love you' in German is 'Ich liebe dich.' </p>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-58858887336218684672010-02-08T03:22:00.002+05:302010-02-11T14:39:06.108+05:30A proverbial love story - Part 2<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">As happens in so many Bollywood movies, in this story also, as the days passed, Vaishali’s apprehension about Sameer started to disappear. She realised that the first impressions are not always the right impressions. The guy was not as bad as she had thought before. In fact, he was intelligent, witty and interesting. He used to bug the teacher with all sorts of questions in the class. Like everyone else in the class, he used to get upset with the exceptions for each rule of grammar in German Language. But the only difference was that, with his expressive face, it used to be obvious for everyone to notice it. Being a student of engineering, it was hard for him to accept that the rules of a language are not as universally applicable as those of Physics and Maths. Everyday while walking to the bus stop after the class, Sameer and Vaishali used to chat. The discussions during initial days were restricted to the topics of weather, traffic, bus routes and of course the class. Later, it graduated to subjects such as food, family, hobbies, movies and friends. After a couple of months, they could talk about anything under the sun. Sameer was frank and would not hesitate from complementing or criticizing Vaishali about her looks and dresses. Yes, he was flirtatious. But he used to do it so effortlessly that it looked like his natural behaviour. He would also brag about how he could make the most sought after hot chicks of his college fall for him. He was articulate and eloquent with his language. But he was equally grotesque and at times flamboyant with his looks and dressing. He was capricious. At one moment, he would talk like an astute mature guy about a serious subject and in the very next moment, he would make a frivolous, childish remark on an equally serious subject. In spite of knowing about Vaishali’s hatred for boozing, he would at length describe her about his binge drink parties with friends. She would get angry and shout at him. He would argue with her. Sometimes the tiny squabble would turn into a brawl. Vaishali used to explain him all sorts of social, financial and health related hazards of drinking.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But all her persuasions had no impact.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He could not understand that why she was making so much fuss about his occasional indulgence in alcohol. It was very much common among his friends. Sameer used to pretend that he is agitated by Vaishali’s objections to his so called social drinking. But deep inside, he was pleased to see her care so much about him. Unlike his girl friends in college, he did not have to take Vaishali out to cafés and movies, he did not have to race his bike with other guys of the college to win her heart, he did not have to flatter her with complements, gifts, chocolates and flowers, he did not have to keep himself updated with latest Hollywood movies, Bollywood gossip and English pop to impress her. This was a girl whom he not only loved but also respected. He used to eagerly wait for their short meetings of 15 to 20 minutes at the bus stop every weekday. This was perhaps the first course in his life where he did not want to bunk a single class. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">He decided to learn German language so that he could add some weight to his resume. He was never much active with the extracurricular stuff in his school and college days. He realised their importance by the last year of his engineering. It was easy for him to be part of the basketball and volleyball teams in his school because of his towering 6 feet tall structure. But there was nothing much to write about that either. He could not transform himself from being a participant to an ultimate winner in any of the sporting competitions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He knew that his decent academic record alone could not fetch him admission into any of the premier B schools after his Graduation. His German course was supposed to fill some glaring voids in his resume.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Vaishali was a quintessential Marathi girl from a middle class family. She had all the values of a bourgeois background imbibed in her. She would wear Punjabi suits and keep her long hair open all the time. She would not apply heavy makeup. She was a decent cook. She was a religious person and a strict vegetarian. She would keep fast on Chaturthi each month to worship the god Ganapti. She was hard working and a soft spoken person. She would concentrate in each class and would make detailed notes. She had a close group of four friends. She used to hang out with them on weekends. And yes she was a big fan of Shah Rukh khan. Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge was perhaps her the most favourite movie which she had already seen at least 10 times so far and was willing to see it for <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>more<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>number of times. When she was in last year of her post graduation, her marriage was fixed with Vijay. He was a sophisticated tech guy working with a software company in Germany for last three years. He had plans of marrying an Indian girl and settle there forever. He was from a rich and prestigious family. His proposal was too good for her family to refuse. They met up once last year and the marriage was fixed within next 2 days. The engagement was hastily done within a week. Vijay came to India for two weeks and changed Vaishali’s life forever. Consequently, her parents did not allow her to do job hunt after her post graduation.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She was being groomed at home to be the perfect house wife afterwards. She would talk to Vijay almost everyday when he would call after finishing his day’s work. Their main topic of discussion used to be ‘how was the day?’ Vijay would enquire in detail about what she did the whole day. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There was not much of common interest for both of them to talk about.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But there was willingness on both the sides to learn about each other and their interests in life. At times, the conversations used to be prolong and boring. But no one was complaining.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">By the end of 3 months of the course, Vaishali and Sameer had become good friends. One day, while waiting at the bus stop after the class. Sameer told Vaishali “Today I will come with you in your bus. I have to meet a friend of mine who lives near your home.” Vaishali looked at him for a moment and smiled. After 5 minutes, they were sitting inside the bus adjacent to each other. Vaishali again looked at him and said, “You are not going to meet your friend.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You are following me.” She started laughing then. Sameer was shocked. He could not speak for a moment. With a sheepish smile on his face, he nodded his head and asked “how do you know it?” In a cool and composed manner, she replied “It was so easy. When you told me that you were coming to meet your friend, you avoided eye contact with me. Your head was down, your shoulders were slouched and you moved both hands inside the pockets of your jeans. Your facial expressions had suddenly changed from casual to a serious one. It was clearly written on your face that you were lying. You can’t fool me.” She started giggling then. Sameer could not stop blushing and slowly his smile changed into a loud laughter. Sameer was now convinced that Vaishali’s Masters in Psychology was hard earned through honest studying. That was in complete contrast to his studies during four years of engineering. He was no more a student in its true sense, but was merely an examinee for the sake of degree. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>During their journey, Vaishali asked him to come to her home for a cup of coffee. Sameer was quick to say no. He was interested in having coffee with her but was not ready to meet her parents. He wanted to go out with her in a Barista Café near the bus stop. Vaishali was caught in an emotional dilemma. She was hesitant to accept this implicit date. She was already engaged to someone else. Such acts of flirting were now forbidden for her. But she also wanted to spend more time with Sameer. Her mind was not ready to accept that what she missed on weekends is not the classes but Sameer. She did not realise that she had started taking him seriously. She had stopped wearing those dresses which Sameer did not like and she was watching the movies which he had recommended. She thought for a moment and decided to say no. But she ended up saying yes. That night, her mind was occupied with thoughts of Sameer. She just could not stop thinking about him. </p>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-79972393227255358572010-02-07T08:10:00.007+05:302010-02-11T14:39:26.322+05:30A proverbial love story - Part 1<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The concept of bounded rationality states that the behaviour especially the decision making of an individual is limited by the information he or she possess, the cognitive limits of the mind. In accordance with this concept, this story is a manifestation of the random thoughts which got provoked in me due to the observations of the world around me and the countless Bollywood movies which I have seen since from my childhood. Hence an intelligent reader like you would have now set his expectations about the creativity and innovativeness in this story to a realistic level: P Some of you will completely agree with me that this story deserves to be called ‘A Proverbial Love Story’.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Tonight was different. It was neither Friday nor Saturday night. There was no loud rock music blaring out of his music system. No one was dancing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There were no boxes of half eaten pizzas lying around. There was no one else. Tonight, Sameer was all alone in his messy room of the hostel. He was holding a glass full of whisky in his left hand. In front of him was the half empty bottle of the blue liquid. He had already guzzled four double shots of it in last one hour. The room was full of darkness except for the glow of his mobile screen being lit intermittently as he was fidgeting with it. Fingers of his right hand kept moving up and down on the keypad many times. He reached to one particular number in his phone book every time. But he could not muster courage to press the call button. People say alcohol makes you loosen up and speak about things which you would never tell someone while in full control of your senses. But tonight, that theory was being proved wrong. He had surrendered himself to Alcohol. He was feeling giddy and disoriented. But still his mind could not allow him to speak to Vaishali.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As he tossed down one more peg of whisky, the convulsions inside his stomach became extremely intense, forcing him to open mouth and throw out. He then fell sideways on the bed and closed his eyes. Ironically, the darkness in front of his inebriated eyes vanished when he shut them close. All he could see was the glow of a smiling and beautiful face of a tall, slender and shy looking girl sitting quietly in one corner of a class. It was the first day of her basic level German language course. She did not want to miss the pronunciations of the alphabets of this foreign language.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As the teacher was explaining the important differences between the sounds of a and ä, o and ö<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height:115%;Arial","sans-serif"; font-family:";font-size:7.5pt;color:black;"> </span></span>along with u and ü<span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height:115%;Arial","sans-serif"; font-family:";font-size:7.5pt;color:black;">, </span></span>he was disturbed by one guy among his students. In his harsh and agitated tone, very much characteristic of the German speaking people, he scolded him. Sameer certainly did not have the best of the introductions, anyone could have hoped for, to the entire class. Thanks to the teacher, everyone came to know that he was looking at the girl sitting in the corner of the class. Before calling off the class, the teacher asked “what else would you like to know about Germany?” Sameer immediately raised his hand and asked” Sir, would you tell us something about October Fest. Is it true that in Germany beer is cheaper than the mineral water?”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There was a little laughter in the class. Vaishali was amused by the awareness of the questioner. But she was also disenchanted by his interest in the topic of beer. Her eyebrows went up to form a perfect bow.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">After the class got over, Sameer was waiting for bus to go back home, when he saw Vaishali also waiting over there. He wanted to talk to her. But he didn’t know what to say. He did not want to deteriorate his reputation further.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He did not want to be seen as hitting on her, although that’s what he exactly had in his mind. He could not stop himself from looking at her.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Finally he gave in to his temptation. He went to her and introduced himself. She snapped him saying “Are you the same guy who was asked to concentrate on the studies in the class?” He replied “It was not my fault. I am not used to have such nice distractions in my class. I am a final year student of Mechanical engineering.” He expected her to blush, but instead she decided to introduce herself “My name is Vaishali. I have finished my Masters in Arts this year and I am learning German language so as to settle down with my fiancé in Germany after six months.” After 5 minutes of silence between them, a bus came to the halt and Vaishali got inside. She was relieved to go away from the stare of Sameer.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">P.S : I will post the second part of the story on tomorrow. I hope you enjoyed reading the first part.</p>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-7253593078601490152010-01-24T20:04:00.004+05:302010-01-24T20:31:05.440+05:30Dear Brother<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Dear Brother,</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">How are you?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I am writing this letter to focus your attention on an issue which is close to my heart and has disturbed me from last few days. The social scene in Urban India in last one decade has seen the emergence of Metrosexual men. These are the men who will go for gymming to keep themselves lean and athletic. They would love to visit art exhibitions and attend country music concerts with their female friends. They will sip small pegs of vodka and gin rather than guzzling bottles of beer <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>in boozing parties. They are the pedantic and chivalrous people. They will dress well as per the occasion. Their clothes would be clean, well ironed and embellished with designer labels which are awkward tongue twisters of obscure French and Italian fashion designers. They will probably own seven pairs of shoes and about a dozen pair of chappals.They will prefer to visit a hair stylist rather than a neighbourhood barber for their hair do. You can smell the fragrance of rose and scandal when in vicinity of such a person. You would find the posters of Arjun Rampal, Hrithik Roshan and Milind Soman in the bedrooms of these people. They will use Dove soap, L’Oreal face wash and Nivea cold cream to maintain the fair, smooth, tender and moist look of their face even in the freezing cold of Delhi winter. By now, you must have got a fair (and handsome) idea about a metrosexual guy. Oh, last but not the least, Metrosexual is not an antonym to Heterosexual :D</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">In an obsessive trend to blindly follow their leading Bollywood icons to become metrosexual men, the urban youth of India is voluntarily chopping off the potent symbol of his Masculinity, about three to five inch long line of hair growing between the upper lip and nose portion, referred as Moustache and fondly called as mooche in North India. The swagger of a macho, dark, rough and rustic looking<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>guy<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>with broad shoulders and beefed up chest gently waving hand on his long trail of thick moustache seems to have lost appeal with the young generation X. Today’s youth <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>fail to appreciate the importance of their moustache in defining the personalities of some of the greatest men of past and present such as Shivaji Maharaj, Mangal Pandey, <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Adolf Hitler, Albert Einstein, Josef Stalin, Nana Patekar , Rajnikant, Shakespere, Tipu Sultan, Anil Kapoor and Piyush Pandey.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The reasons for such a turn around of Indian Male psyche can be attributed to the emergence and later on dominance of Multi National beauty and male grooming product companies in India post liberalisation of 1991. In order to lure more than half a billion Indian men to use their products, these companies introduced the concept of Metrosexual men in the Indian market.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>With huge marketing budgets and deep pockets, they could rope in the leading male celebrities to endorse their product, arrange for free shaving camps provide price discounts and come up with the controversial and disparaging campaigns such as Gillette’s Shave India campaign. The free flow of western culture after liberalisation made the way easier for these companies to push their products. Soon the beards and stubbles were gone.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The rough, tickling sensual touch of a man’s stubble was shown to have ceased to ignite arousal within a woman. She was convinced to fancy about the soft, smooth and clean shaven cheeks of a guy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In the end, the deadly blow to the public symbol of manhood of the Indian male came when he pickup up a pair of scissors and chopped off his moustache. With it, he also chopped off his connections with the tradition and culture of his society.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Historically, the moustache of a man also depicted his origins. The length, shape and curls of the bristles on the upper lip of a Royal Rajput is different from that of a Mard Maratha, which in turn varies from that of an intellectual Bengali babu or a Brave Southern <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>warrior.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But everything is not lost. Despite the foolish attempts made by people like you and me to get rid of our moustaches in the past, Mother Nature has been patient enough to allow us to correct those mistakes. Our moustaches have so far not been made extinct by the irreversible process of<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>evolution of mankind.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Unlike <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>a few of once fertile lands of Punjab and Haryana who have become barren due to over utilisation of irrigation, chemicals and pesticides, the fertile lands above our upper lips have not lost their yields to the use of shaving creams, foams and after lotions.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Let’s make a pledge that we will grow our moustaches once again and flaunt them in style. And remember, it’s a Man’s Promise!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">God Bless you…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Yours Truly,</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Mindpuzzle</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> P.S. I hope the following video motivates you to think and act like a Man :D</o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:10px;"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MyNj_veX6O8&hl=en_US&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MyNj_veX6O8&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span></o:p></p>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-72755309450966112412010-01-02T05:05:00.004+05:302010-01-02T18:49:56.539+05:30To-Do list for 2010<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12kqXrQw75SVXBss6BHerVGMkBtgxWAbCF8xFz8dOp1LfrMvYaztE2sc6YP_mXVU_EJTWMsaWEijWo04YRqWxyX4Dvsxgm0S-Uvc6HfS2_SSgyCV9r7hMMXLHaRZN3_42-iHMAcFd584B/s1600-h/2_1_5212592_w123145A.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 119px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12kqXrQw75SVXBss6BHerVGMkBtgxWAbCF8xFz8dOp1LfrMvYaztE2sc6YP_mXVU_EJTWMsaWEijWo04YRqWxyX4Dvsxgm0S-Uvc6HfS2_SSgyCV9r7hMMXLHaRZN3_42-iHMAcFd584B/s200/2_1_5212592_w123145A.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421924027989723666" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal">It is the New Year eve and I was wondering what I should do. All news channels prompted me to the idea of reviewing 2009 for myself. Thanks to my 1982 manufactured 256 Mb memory, I could hardly remember what I have done during first 10 months of 2009.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Also I don’t want to feel depressed and miserable on the new year eve by thinking about what have I done in last 365 days. Hence I had to rule out this option without hesitation. I then turned to the internet for help and found New Year resolutions of few of my friends posted on FB. I have never made any resolutions on New Year eve, or any other eve for that matter. Also the idea of New Year resolution is always associated with laughter and futility.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But still, I have decided to make my resolutions for this year.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Wish me good luck on my maiden endeavour in this regard. Here is my Laundry list of things to do in 2010…</p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left:.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">1.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">To take bath daily and if possible in the morning. <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">This resolution is dedicated to my family.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Although for someone, taking shower everyday may have a selfish motive of making him feel fresh while for others it might be an automatic process arising out of a lifelong practised habit, I would term it as a narcissistic act which results into giving goose bumps to the people around me when they look at the freshness, glow, confidence and exuberance of my bathed and haloed physical existence in the morning. But since my mom and dad insist on me dumping this Mother Teressa attitude towards my colleagues in the college, I am going to be the centre of attention of everyone in the class and let other guys suffer from the inferiority complex of realising to be ugly morons. Let me make it clear that I still don’t buy the ‘Save us from your body odour’ argument of my detractors. I firmly believe in the effectiveness of my deodorant. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left:.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">2.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">To put on some weight. <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Since it is now certain that once I start working, I will not be staying in Mumbai, I hope to put on some weight. Since from my childhood, I wanted to work in Mumbai.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Owing to this fact, in a manifestation of control of my mind over body, ditto to the skyscrapers in Mumbai, my body grew <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>much in the vertical dimension only, so that I could occupy least possible floor space when I am jostling for space in the overcrowded local trains of Mumbai. But now I can allow my tall and thin structure to expand horizontally and transform myself into a more rounded personality. In this regard, the New Year has begun in the right direction. I have already begun my eating spree at home with lots of sweets, ghee and yummy stuff.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left:.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">3.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Not to sleep in the class. <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">This will require me to get addicted to stimulants such as tea and coffee. Also the success in obeying this resolution is partially dependent on success in following the first item in this list. Although I am still sceptical about what will I gain out of it, it will at least result in my more well-mannered and cordial social behaviour by preventing my alleged occasional snoring in the class.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left:.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">4.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Be punctual at every place, whenever the situation demands. <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The first draft of this list had only main clause of this resolution. However, while reviewing the list, I was compelled to attach a qualifier in the form of subordinate clause because I stay in India. How can I afford to miss out on the ego boost feelings of watching other dependent and helpless people wait for me at special occasions such as group meetings, marriages, movies and even dates? Not to mention the obvious benefits of being late for the classes.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left:.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">5.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Study for the last trimester of my MBA. <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">This is quite important for me as the last trimester will be my last chance to find out answer for the million dollar question ‘what do I learn during my MBA’. Also having just 3 instead of usual 7-8 <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>subjects to study should not lead to me cutting down on my extra curricular (read surfing on the net) and socialising activities (read attending booze parties). Also last five trimesters have given me enough self confidence about my abilities as the last minute manager (thanks to my indulgence in procrastination and Jugaad skills).Now let me go after the classical (read stereotype) skills taught in a B-school.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left:.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">6.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Read at least one book every month (including text books). <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The clause mentioned in the bracket is to ensure that the resolution is not quixotic but practically useful and realistic to achieve. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left:.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">7.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Work hard once I start doing my job (especially when the boss is around). <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Please refer the above resolution for justification of the bracketed part. </p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left:.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">8.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Be positive and satisfied about life rather than cynical and cribbing. <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It is a sermon which I have been listening and reading for ages from so many sources. So I want to give it a shot. But I am clueless about how to do it. One of my friends suggested that in every situation I should look at how much is gained, available and achieved every time. That will make me feel happy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The only exception being my marks scored in the exams. Also what if I turn into a complacent person? Oh Shit, no more cynicism.</p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left:.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">9.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Don’t try to figure out any woman and waste my time.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In my existence of over quarter of century on mother earth, no one could succeed in making me believe in God. But the so called fairer sex has made me believe that the world in not fair enough. If I have to accept the hypothesis that the computers are modelled to simulate the human brain then I would say that the Windows operating systems are inspired by the female brains. It is inefficient and unreliable yet every man is hooked onto it. All my attempts to decipher them further have met with little success.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Hence I share my wisdom with you through this resolution. Trust me guys, Casanova is a myth than a reality!</p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left:.25in;mso-add-space:auto; text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-bidi-;font-family:Calibri;"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">10.<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""> </span></span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Remind myself of these resolutions everyday. <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">OK, I accept that it is a clichéd line. Every damn list of rules now days has this corny line in the end. Since we are entering into 2010, I must have a list of 10 things to do. But even after being over critical of myself, I could not find many areas of self improvement. Hence this resolution for the sake of completing the list of 10 things.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">So now, let me stop my inaugural blabbering of 2010. Wish u all a Very Happy New year!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-54223013567329132442009-11-26T22:26:00.005+05:302009-11-29T12:27:20.876+05:30First Anniversary of 26/11<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu62mXQ0bVSNwG2v3lLq__SfV8-A4S5yccH1mm4-Tdprr-IGTdFEUvjCcmf-lq4vZ8sVUTTV303dCGVpOfqo229XH2qhc_alZS2Z-GtZ15flu5ACmnI6xR3J-MobH7XbUsvuKWRj0jd74l/s1600/mumbai.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu62mXQ0bVSNwG2v3lLq__SfV8-A4S5yccH1mm4-Tdprr-IGTdFEUvjCcmf-lq4vZ8sVUTTV303dCGVpOfqo229XH2qhc_alZS2Z-GtZ15flu5ACmnI6xR3J-MobH7XbUsvuKWRj0jd74l/s200/mumbai.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408458168954671698" /></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Today is 26/11/2009, the First anniversary of horrific terrorist attacks in Mumbai. Last year, on the same day, 10 terrorists from Pakistan landed in Mumbai via sea route and went on to massacre 166 people, taking hostage and injuring many more <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>and bringing the <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>whole country to a stand still <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>before being gunned down in a 60 hour long battle with security forces. Fortunately one of the terrorist, Kasab was captured alive and is now under trial. From last one week, the media was generating momentum for this special occasion by broadcasting special programmes on TV, printing special issues of current affairs magazines and publishing numerous articles in newspapers. Today, many special events have been organised to mark this occasion. I am being convinced that the candle light marches featuring celebrities, prayer meetings, photo exhibitions, police parades, musical events, posters and wreaths laid around the Mumbai city have all been done to pay homage to the martyrs, express gratitude towards those who fought against the evil forces and to salute the spirit and resilience of Mumbaikers. Instead of making my heart bleed for those victims, I am enraged after watching all this. I hate this celebration of sadness and grief. I don’t understand what is achieved by such so called symbolic gestures of tribute and solidarity. I don’t know what does the heart wrecking portrayal of tragedy, personal losses, sorrow, blood and fire in media accomplish for the society.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But what I do know is that it does improve TRP of news channels, bring back Page 3 and bollywood celebrities facing oblivion into limelight, leads to more circulation of print media, creates avenues for event management, advertising and PR firms to make money and gives a chance for two top notch five star hotels of Mumbai to give full page advertisements to build their brand image in the name of symbolic gesture of homage and gratitude. The tried and tested formula of 'Suffering Sells' is being repeated again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">In the process we all ignore what we choose to ignore. We ignore that our cities are still as vulnerable to massive terrorist attacks as they were one year back. We ignore that our politicians only provide sound bites for media by making hollow claims about our preparedness to deal with such attacks in future. We ignore that you, me and more than one billion Indians still don’t report suspicious activities in our neighbourhood to police. We ignore the helplessness of the average Mumbaikar and his fear for death while annoying him with accolades for his so called resilience and courage to live. We still believe that our corrupt and inefficient judicial system will punish the accused by next year. And even if Kasab is handed over capital punishment, we still believe our impotent government to send him to gallows when parliament attack accused Afzal Guru is still alive. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We forget how our security forces were caught completely off the guard and were acting in total disarray while fighting terrorists one year back. We forget the failure of our diplomacy in putting pressure on Pakistan to dismantle terrorist network on its soil. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We forget that our coastline and borders with neighbours such as Bangladesh are as porous as they were before. We forget that slain ATS chief chose to jump into the battlefield with his troops rather than coordinating and strategising movement of them in the battle. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We forgive our under staffed and over worked intelligence agencies for failure to prevent the attack. We forgive the top police officials for not following standard operating procedure in dealing with the crisis. Instead what we choose to do is celebrate our tragedy !</p>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-49626930067399332822009-10-19T00:48:00.004+05:302009-10-19T01:03:12.015+05:30Personality types found in B school<div align="justify">A typical so called decent MBA college in India is an eclectic collection of people from all parts of India. There are few international participants also garnishing the platter on sides. Such a diverse collection of students not only differ in terms of their preferences about food, drinks, clothes, languages and festivals, they also have quite distinct personalities and attitude towards studies and extra curricular activities. Here are some prominent personality types which I have seen in my institute. This psychographic classification is based on my random observations, has no correlation with the regional origins of students and is definitely not exhaustive. I am making my little contribution to the already vast collection of blogs, books and magazine articles which talk about MBA students at lengths. So here I go…<br /><br />•Grade hungry crammers: These are people who are obsessed about grades. Although I totally agree that grades are important and good grades never hurt anyone, this bunch of people takes it to altogether different level. You will find these bookworms talking about studies all the time. Some of them try to show it off to impress others. But they are stumped when faced with questions out of the textbooks. Their face is an indication of their current CGPA. They get depressed even if they score low in a tiny winy quiz. Rather than gaining knowledge their purpose of studying and working on projects is to get high grades. They will make sure that they do not pursue those kinds of studies which do not carry any marks for a particular subject. They are most compatible with selfish slaves.<br /><br />•Selfish slaves: In medieval times, slavery was thrust upon helpless victims who were paying for the debts of their parents. However in modern 21st century, cunning selfish souls submissively volunteer themselves to engage in flattery of their masters to fulfil their different academic and non academic pursuits in an MBA institution. Most of them lack their own independent existence and are seen as shadows accompanying their masters. Some of them are shrewd enough to solicit different masters at varying points of time to be in the company of best one. However, I feel that such a person ends up fulfilling his/her short term goals at the cost of long term goals. One day destiny will force them to stand on their own feet and they will collapse if their feet are infirm.<br /><br />•Intellectual dumb asses: Some people tend to overestimate the grey matter in their heads. They tend to think of themselves as the highly intellectual people who know anything and everything on the earth. For them MBA <em>gyan</em> is something obvious and does not pose any challenge to their intellect. They love to flaunt about whatever little they know. For them ignorance is definitely not a bliss and they have honed the skills of maintaining deceptive appearances to perfection. They are always looking for peopel who will pamper their egoes. The initial part of the oxymoronic term used to describe such people is their public self and the later part is their private self. In reality they are the empty vessels which make the most noise.<br /><br />•Cynical cribbers: These people are the quintessential roadblocks in any work. They love to crib, doubt, critique and protest. They won’t take any initiative and will not contribute in any work. They will always stand on the sidelines and pass cynical and discouraging remarks. They firmly believe that there is always scope for improvement. For them, everything around them is either useless, flawed or irrelavent. However they won’t do anything to improve it and when challenged to do so, they would provide all sorts of lame excuses and shy away from the task. I doubt even if they are suitable for the job of Corporate Cassandras in companies. </div><div align="justify"><br />•Indifferent Aliens: Looking at some people I always wonder why are they doing MBA. Neither they are aware nor do they care about academic and other activities on the campus. Grades obviously do not matter to them. Hence threats of sub grading do not force them to attend the classes. They believe that fortune favours the brave and hence challenge their fate by sitting for whatever classes they attend without any preparation. They are total free riders when it comes to group work. They want to follow the path of least resistance and will opt for all the easy go electives. However unlike cynical cribbers, they are the harmless creatures who will not critique others.<br /><br />Disclaimer: I am certainly not the best student of my MBA institute in anyway. This post is not written to preach anything. I do not intend to offend anyone by this post. It is written in lighter vein and please take it in the right spirit.<br /><br /></div>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-74438339968086053082009-10-06T20:06:00.004+05:302009-10-07T13:21:32.008+05:30The Great Indian Railways Journey<div align="justify">In last 5 years I have traveled many times by train and most of the times it’s been long journeys stretching to 18-20 hrs at least. I have heard many people complaining about the poor services of the Indian railways in terms of extraordinary yet frequent delays of 6 to 8 hrs, overcrowded trains, unhygienic food, beggars and eunuchs annoying passengers, dirty stations and disgusting toilets. But luckily I was spared of all these miseries till now. So on 29th Sep 09, with a confirmed second class sleeper ticket in my hand I went to the Aurangabad railway station to catch Sachkhand Express to return to Delhi for my fifth semester. Some of my friends had suggested me many times before that traveling by second class for a 24 hrs journey can seriously screw up the whole journey. But I had always rejected it by calling them as squeamish and snobbish people. I had sweet memories of so many previous journeys to bank upon. But my entire dream run on Indian railways was set to get severally jolted on that fateful day. The moment I entered the station, I heard a female announcing in her monotonous voice that the train is delayed by 1 hour. The announcement was getting repeated in English, Hindi and Marathi and I hated myself for knowing all the three languages. I was getting irritated now. Add to this the fact that I had to hastily pack up all my stuff and get ready to reach the station to catch the train on time. After one hour, the same voice cracked through the speaker announcing a further delay of one hour. By now my chatter with mom and dad was coming to a halt. Everyone was getting bored. I already had two cups of tea gulped down to kill the time. Once again the same announcement of one more hour delay was made. But this time, the same lady added a personal touch to the announcement and apologized for the delay. The implied meaning was that you deserve an apology from the Indian Railways only if the train is delayed by at least 3 hours. So instead of soothing my nerves it caused inflammation in my heart. I was totally pissed off now.<br />Finally the train arrived after a delay of three and half hours. As it was coming to halt, I got reminded of Mumbai locals. All the bogies were jam packed with people, most of them Sikh pilgrims returning to their homes in Punjab after Dasera celebration at Nanded. I saw my coach door closed and started knocking heavily with my fist. But no one opened it. Now I saw the other door of the coach getting opened and I ran towards it. As I was entering through the door, a couple of people started pushing me out and were yelling in Punjabi. So I lost my temper, pushed them back and forced my way through the crowd. When I reached my seat, I saw7-8 Punjabi <span style="font-style: italic;">budhiyas</span> sitting in the compartment and an old man sleeping on my upper berth. I took a deep breath and mentally prepared myself for the anticipated ugly brawl with them. But I told them in a calm and firm voice that I have a seat reserved over here. Before I could finish speaking, 3-4 ladies started yelling on me and were asking me to leave the damn train itself. I raised my voice and started screaming that I will not move from here come what may. I could see my dad standing outside the train trying to convince the ladies from the window to allow me to sit at my place. Then a huge well built young man came and asked me to show the ticket. Suddenly he tried to snatch it from my hand. In the midst of this chaos, I saw my mom and she was sobbing. I tried to put a brave face and told my parents that they need not worry at all and I will get my seat anyhow. But I was also worried and clueless about how will I do that. Looking at print out of my internet booked ticket, one lady raised the doubt that it’s a bogus ticket. For a moment, I couldn’t figure out whether I should laugh on her ignorance or should cry about my ordeal. When the train started moving, the commotion in and out of train rose to the highest level. Hell broke down and the train got flooded with people. I was hit 2-3 times by waves of people crushing on me.<br />At last God came to rescue me in the form of a man who was holding a list of seats booked for the so called <span style="font-style: italic;">yatrionka jattha</span> (group of pilgrims). He came, patted on my shoulder and told everyone that this guy has a seat reserved here and we need to somehow accommodate him. I was so relieved to hear that. I thanked him with a big grin on my face. I politely asked the man sleeping on my berth to get down once again. He climbed down reluctantly and I jumped on my berth in a flash. But half of my berth was occupied by the luggage of others. I did not dare to ask them to move the luggage and tried to sleep on the other half by folding my legs and hands as much as I can. Below me, I could see people sitting and sleeping all over the place in a snugly fit manner. Every inch of possible space was being used. Sleeping babies and luggage were stuffed together on the side upper berths. In the middle of it all, the market in the train was still running in full swing. The tea vendors, <span style="font-style: italic;">samosa</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">vada </span>sellers were still venturing in the train and making big money. However, not a single TC came to my seat in the entire journey. There was non stop chatter in the train. Some one was busy eating <span style="font-style: italic;">langar</span> meals, someone was playing cards for time pass, some one was trying to cajole the kid to stop crying by offering him biscuits and a lot of them were singing the <span style="font-style: italic;">bhajans</span> praising the almighty <span style="font-style: italic;">waheguru</span>. As the night fall down, tired passengers started making arrangements for sleeping. When I saw the old ladies in my compartment struggling with the middle berth seat chains, I jumped down and helped them with it. I also moved their luggage below the seats. Surprisingly it worked wonders for me. I could see the old ladies smiling in a gesture to thank me. One of them started a general traveler’s type conversation with me. She was talking in Punjabi and I was replying in Hindi. I am sure both of us were able to understand very little of it. But the gesture of empathy and respect was more important. But still I did not want to take any chances and hence told her that I am a soldier working in the army :). Another lady then started moving her luggage from my berth and I was so happy to see my entire empty berth. I jumped back on it and slept like a dead wood for the next 12 hours.</div>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-92144638460455681532009-09-03T01:57:00.005+05:302009-10-17T14:54:35.001+05:30Cribbing all the way<div align="justify">Ohh..its been so long since I have blogged..The thought of blogging crossed my mind so many times in last one month. But I did not get motivated enough to start translating my thoughts into the words of a blog post. Or did I find my thoughts not worthy enough to be posted here. Were they just crappy feelings popping up randomly? Life has become kind of dull and stagnant. It has become similar to the chicken trend in the share market where the stocks are neither rising nor crashing down. The same boring college stuff keeps on happening randomly. After three trimesters of first year, hardly anything excites me in academic life. It’s the ‘been there and done that’ feeling that has fully occupied mind space. If I try to infuse some enthusiasm into my lethargic mind, the hormones of cynicism flush out the fluids of ecstasy in a jiffy. A feeling of void and lack of purpose has been building for some time. It’s been almost 2 and half months since my fourth trimester has begun and the water stagnated in the pond has now started stinking. The obnoxious smell has now spread to such an extent that my numb nasal sensations have to take notice of that. The ultimate optimistic side of me keeps on telling me that this too will pass and one day I will do great in my life. But am I becoming complacent with theses feelings? I don’t know. My mind just keeps on drifting anywhere and everywhere.<br />I need to seriously shake up myself! Well before the placement season kicks off. I need to study well, even if my fourth semester marks no longer affect placement. Do I need a break? Or am I enjoying break for so long that I need to get back to working? Shall I start praying to the God when I doubt his existence itself? Do I need a pedantic, regimented life style? But will it account for randomness in an MBA student’s life? I am confused.<br />But one thing which I am quite sure about me is that I need to stop cribbing so much. Hopefully this is my last blog post about cribbing, at least till my course gets over .Wish me good luck guys!<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BUTT08ggG94&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BUTT08ggG94&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /></div>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-89550435939283597032009-06-27T16:17:00.010+05:302009-07-29T20:29:36.901+05:30Memories of Bangalore<div style="text-align: justify;">It’s been one year since I left Bangalore and been in Delhi. However I still miss Bangalore every now and then. It’s really strange that I have these feelings now as I used to complain a lot about the city when I was living there. Although I have always considered that Pune is the best city for me to live and settle down, the three years which I spent in Bangalore while working in an IT company, have created a lasting impression on my mind and gifted me with some wonderful memories which I will cherish forever.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>However in hindsight, I can see that Bangalore came into my life as a rude shock. After joining TCS as a fresh engineering grad, I had fantastic 2 month induction programme at Thiruvananthapuram. I had great time there, roaming around the place and watching the splendid natural beauty of God’s own country. But one day, all of sudden, our batch was summoned to assemble in a hall and each one was told about his/her posting location by HR, without asking for our preferences.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Everyone was thrown out of their comfort zones and was left feeling like a fish out of water. Only a handful of people were lucky to get location of their choice. Unfortunately I was not one of them. I was clearly disappointed to know that I have been kicked to Bangalore. </div><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As a youngster born and brought up in Maharashtra, I had many preconceived scary notions about south Indian cities with regard to food, weather, language, costumes<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>blah blah. However, Bangalore proved them to be wrong. The city has a pleasant and salubrious weather throughout the year. This green city of gardens and parks receives rains for almost half of the year and its always a drizzle through the day <span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-size:0;">J</span></span>.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>The mercury hovers between 20 and 35 Degrees C. If you are in Bangalore, be assured that you will never get parched in hot and dry summer sun. Also you will not be frozen to death in chilly winter days. After getting royally pampered by awesome weather of Bangalore for 3 years, I am struggling hard to adjust myself to extreme weather conditions in Delhi.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The best thing which happened to me in Bangalore is my room mates, a bunch of 5 guys who became my best buddies for life and with whom I had superb time there. Each one of them being <span style="font-size:0;"></span>different and special to me.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Let me talk about them here. Let me begin with Jatin. He was an odd ball amongst us. A typical Delhi guy who was not an engineer and who did not understand Marathi.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Poor fellow used to get irritated a lot when rest of us used to talk in Marathi.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I would say he tried to come across as a strong and tough guy. But I always knew that like a coconut, he appears tough from outside but is actually tender and vulnerable from inside. He is a straight talking, no nonsense guy who has always been warm and friendly with me. He always has plans for his life and he makes sure that they come true. Contrary to the predictions made by our so called astrologer friend Tushar, he got married this year itself. He was the only non drinking guy amongst us who still used to accompany us on binge drink parties for the sheer pleasure of watching drunkards in the act <span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-size:0;">J</span></span> .</p><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Bangalore transformed me from an occasional drinker into a connoisseur.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>The city deserves to be declared not only the IT capital but also the boozing capital of India. No where else will you find so many watering holes mushroomed all over the city. The young IT and BPO crowd who wants to relax and unwind themselves on weekend after slogging their butts off in the office on weekdays has led to opening of so many pubs and discos across the city. The brigade road, M.G. Road and Koramangala are the favourite hang out destinations for these youngsters. I have explored the city in search of new drinking venues several times. Going for drinks on every Friday night was kind of my hobby in Bangalore and waiting for the next weekend was my favourite time pass there<span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-size:0;">J</span></span>. I have been to almost every boozing spot in and around Brigade road.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Be it The Pub World, NASA, Stykes, Night watchman, Hard rock café, Mojo, Flames or Purple Haze. Now this indulgence did come with its own price. It used to create a deep hole in my pocket when I used to pay my credit card bills every month. But I was a careless young chap then who used to get a decent pay in the hay days of IT industry and was ready to splurge all my money.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When it comes to boozing in Bangalore, I have to talk about Subhash, the leading tippler of our group<span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-size:0;">J</span></span>. Whenever you are with this guy, you will never get bored. This quintessential Kolhapuri Marathi Manoos with his characteristic humour and language has made a big transformation within him. In his journey from junk stuff working techie sitting in the corner cubicle of an IT company to the Mechanics lab of IIT, he has not only changed his profession but also his personality, habits and even his drinking acts. He is now restraining himself from not indulging into drinking more than once in a month or so. That is unbelievable for me! But as you know old habits die hard. So even now whenever we are having drinks together, we discussion gets carried away to the topic of women. We talk a lot about them, from the college crushes to the Bollywood heartthrobs, no one is spared! I still remember our silly argument about who would be a better wife? Madhuri or Urmila <span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-size:0;">J</span></span> . I don’t know how and when we started calling him Bhava (Bro! in Marathi), but he deserves to be called so !</p><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The only guy in our group who had a girl in his life before coming to Bangalore was Idris. Well he had found the love of his life and we all have been witness to his Pyaar ke side effects, from the round about trips to Akola via Pune and huge cell phone bills despite subscribing to all schemes, we have seen it all. This guy has potential to shock and surprise you every time with his ideas. He will demonstrate his extraordinary genius with a superb idea now and then spoil it all with an equally dumb one in the next moment. He lives his life on his own terms and makes the most of every moment. He is always there to help you if you are lucky to have a friend like him <span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-size:0;">J</span></span>.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My first lessons in managing customers began well before I joined MBA course and my tutor was the tiffin guy in Bangalore, Mr. Arjun.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>He always had a smile on his face, never lost his temper and would do sweet talking to cajole us to make advance payments every month. He always used to employ his out of the box thinking to come up with very imaginative yet realistic excuses to cover serious lapses in his service. He would never miss on a single opportunity to make money. He was the carpenter, electrician, plumber and painter, all packed in one. The ultimate solution provider to all your house keeping problems !</p><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Along with Jatin,<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Swapnil was the other member of Sarna House who was in my batch of ILP (Initial Learning Programme)<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>of TCS in Thiruvananthapuram. Within a couple of weeks of ILP, we had become fast friends. We always use to go out together for eating, shopping, movies etc etc. He is a smart and hardworking guy who was more disciplined among Sarna house members. Not to mention his cooking skills. You got to eat poha and tea made by him in the breakfast to believe me. I still remember that in one of ice breaking sessions, he had introduced himself as Samajhdar Swapnil. He is just like that! <span style="font-size:0;"></span>But as they say men will always be men and this guy is also no exception.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>When it comes to Females, his intelligent mind is overtaken by emotional heart and he can do all stupid things in life<span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-size:0;">J</span></span>. For example, he has changed his look forever from the day when one of the eye candy teachers in ILP complemented him about his French cut beard look. Now the complement has becomes more than 4 years old, but the beard still stays on meticulously carved out and well maintained <span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-size:0;">J</span></span> .</p><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">There are lots of tourist destinations and weekend trip spots near Bangalore. I have seen some of them like Mysore, Coorg, Udupi etc. But the biggest of them all , at 10 hours road journey distance is Goa ! It is famous for wine and sea. But I was fascinated by the calm, soothing, laid back life in Goa which helps you get rid of all your tensions and worries in life.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Go for walk on the beach in the morning and evening, have Goan food delicacies for lunch, enjoy water sports during the day and go to the disco at night. Not to forget, drinking whiskey and beer every now and then. What a life that was! We were staying on a secluded beach, Vagatur Beach, far from the crowded ones, with an old fort nearby and lot of hippie whites <span style="font-size:0;"> </span>around us. While strolling through small lanes of nearby market in the evening, I could see them playing guitar and singing songs, having beer and smoking grass, gambling to test their luck with slot machines and playing cards. Goa provides you an awesome experience, next to achieving nirvana <span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-size:0;">J</span></span>. Ask me any day for Goa and I would come jumping all over !</p><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In Sarna House, there was a bat that would be awake till late night watching movies on TV, even if its 100<sup>th</sup> repeat telecast. His name is Tushar. A brainy and lazy bump, who have varied interests such as Astrology, Films, cricket blah blah. I chose to call him bat for one more reason, which is his fetish for black colour clothes. I have went for shopping with him so many times and have always seen him buying Jeans and T shirts with shades of black and gray.<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>I know him from my engineering college days. He is a nice, warm, sensitive and friendly guy. He is ambitious and confident of himself. He is quite serious and committed to the work. It might take some time for you to be friend with him. But once the bond is in place, it will last forever. During my last six months in Bangalore, We used to go for drinks almost every weekend to nearby Goguras and Madhuri Grand hotels. There we used to discuss anything and everything under the sun. Not only our hotels but our orders were also kind of fixed, either whisky or vodka with masala peanuts and finger chips. What a great time we had together in those days!</p><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now you might be thinking that I am so much smitten with Bangalore that I seem to perceive it as the perfect city of an ideal world. But that is not the case. Not everything is hunky dory over there. The city’s infrastructure is inadequate and not able to cope up with its exponential growth. The biggest issue is of traffic. Once you get stuck in a jam, you don’t have any other option but to pray to god to clear it soon. There are no alternate roads. The public transport is also not good enough. It’s ironic that the city which has flourished due to growth of service sector industry, gives you extremely poor services. Auto drivers are very adamant and rude. They will charge you extra fares anytime. If you go to a hotel , you will be at the mercy of waiter to take and bring your order and there is no use of protesting about delays and food quality. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Pheww..This is the longest blog post I have written so far, consisting of almost 2000 words. If you happen to read it till here, you might have been bored and pissed off…or you may have like it<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>(am I being over optimistic ?).<span style="font-size:0;"> </span>Whatever it is, just let me know. Let me stop testing your patience further and stop it here…Byee!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">P.S: Well, I have not written abt the place and people with whom I spent my maximum time in Bangalore. The place is my Office there in Whitefield and the people are my office friends Pradeep, Sumesh, Sindhu, Hari and Kishore. All of us had joined the same project as freshers at the beginning of the project itself. During first few months, we were all trained in CAD/CAM and later put into different work groups. But there was always the common thread joining us together. And yeah, as rightly mentioned by Pradeep in the comment, I spent the maxium amount of time with him in the project. This guy, with a smile on his face, is a chatter box who can do non stop <span style="font-style: italic;">bakaar</span> all the time. But he really makes you feel comfortable with him. Thanks to him, I used to take atleast 3-4 smoking breaks in a day even without lighting a single cigarette in office :) He is a funny and humorus guy. But, at the same time he takes his work seriously. We had amazing work co-ordination between ourselves. Many times we have seen movies together by bunking office after lunch. But then, a lot more times, we have also slogged through nights to complete project deliveries . I am lucky that from my Bangalore connexion team, along with Subhash and Jatin, Pardya (aka Pradeep) is also there in Delhi. Looking forward to meet you soon buddy !</p>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-37556007219101992182009-05-16T02:49:00.004+05:302009-06-03T20:47:00.773+05:30Oh my Sweetheart<div style="text-align: justify;"><span xmlns=""><p>She is the sexy dusky skinned well endowed smart looking whore standing on the roadside. Truly professional, she is ready to go with anyone who can pay her price. She dresses well with bright colours like green and blue and her clothes are often embellished with silver and golden frills at the top or bottom. Every time I pass her, she always seems to entice me with her inviting eyes. I first met her when I was in my engineering college. It was an unexpected encounter when my friend introduced me to her in the broad day light afternoon. It all started off with a casual hook up. When she first kissed me, I hated her. But as time passed, we started meeting often. I being a reluctant young boy then tried to act as a hard person to win over. But she being an expert lured me into falling in her trap. Every time when I am depressed, when I am jubilant or I am just getting bored, I dream of her with a naughty suggestive smile on her face and her open arms eager to hug me. </p></span><br /><span xmlns=""><p>She is smooth and seductive. Her touch is sensual and her kiss is so moving. When I am lying in her arms, she makes me forget my worries, relieves me of all stress, liberates me from the melancholy, morbidity and mundanity of life, makes me laugh and then I sleep like a 2 year old baby holding her tight. <span><span xmlns="">She is strange. </span></span>Every time I do it with her, she reminds me of my lost love even when she is caressing my heart and seducing my mind. She is submissive and shy in the beginning, but as the passions reach pinnacle, she becomes wild and takes control of me. She is insatiable. She consumes me completely and still craves for more of me. She is bitchy and audacious. She is promiscuous and flirtatious. She plays games with my friends even when I am holding her hand in a party. She sometimes embarrasses me with her tricks. She fancies of group orgy with many mates and is jealous of other hookers. Sometimes I hate her, sometimes I love her. But the fact remains that I can't live without her. The next day morning, when I wake up, when the carnal desires have vanished in the morning light and the lust has given way to love, I want to hold her hand with mine. But the whore is already gone, leaving me alone sulking deep inside!</p></span><br /></div><span xmlns=""><p>People call her bottle of whisky, vodka, rum or wine. I simply call her sweetheart !<br /></p><p>P.S. This post is written without consuming alcohol at all :D<br /></p></span>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-74324089817754765472009-05-09T22:34:00.005+05:302009-05-10T10:50:00.608+05:30Lessons from Corporate WorldIf you are working or you wish to work in the corporate world in future, here are some tips for your success or atleast survival :<br /><br />First of all, remember that you are a smart ass.You are highly intelligent and knowledgeable person. Saying 'I don't know' is a taboo.<br />Most importantly you are always busy...nope..extremely busy...at least you have to pretend to be very busy. If you are easily accessible to your juniors, you don't deserve your job.<br />You always drink your coffee in your cubicle. That makes others realize that you are busy.<br />You are always working on critical and confidential projects.<br />You should not provide clear , detailed instructions to your juniors. That makes his task less challenging (easier in other words) and devoid him of freedom of thought and actions.<br />You should be attending lot of meetings. At least four a day. If you don't get sufficient meeting invites in a day, you arrange a meeting yourself. Unplanned meetings always catch attention of others and invites for the same are always precious. Meetings are always to be held in meeting rooms only. Sitting in the cubicle and discussing does not meet the corporate world meeting standards.<br />Global gyan is a virtue to possess and practised but should not be preached i.e. you should always discourage others from practicing it.<br />You are always expected to address your boss as "Mr. boss". That is a sign of respect (and a way for pampering his ego).<br />At least one excel sheet and one ppt should always be open on your laptop. If you are still using a desktop, you are fooling yourself (you are not the corporate guy ).<br />You should be getting at least 50 mails in a day. If you don't, you are facing the challenge of oblivion.<br />You should be really good at multi tasking. You should always take your calls while working on your system.<br />You ask your junior to work only when it is a super urgent task with tight deadlines. Such work pressure helps you to keep him on his toes and improve his efficiency. After all deadlines are called so because they are supposed to make someone dead if he misses it.<br />Appreciation is the fundamental right of your superiors and a highly sought after incentive for your juniors. Make sure that your appreciations are always based on this discretion.<br />The thumb rule says that in the morning, the least important person in the office should be the first one to enter it. The more late you can afford to come, more important you are.<br />This rule is simply turned upside down when it comes to leaving the office. If you don't work till late night, your commitment to work is questionable. Your stay in office is considered to be directly proportional to the amount of work you do, as your efficiency is always super high.<br />Don't forget that you are expected to be working 24X7. You also need to make sure that your juniors also work 24X7. If you can't assure that, you are not fit to be the manager.<br />Cynicism and criticism are essential qualities of successful corporate person. After all only experts can find out flaws.mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-31428452502479221862009-03-07T01:09:00.007+05:302009-06-27T02:59:50.160+05:30MBA so far<div style="text-align: justify;">I am almost through half of my MBA course as my third trimester is coming to an end. From last few days one thought has been haunting me like never before. I don't know how to express it most effectively. Anyways, here it is ..<br />When I came here to do MBA, I was expecting that I would experience a tiring and thoroughly satisfying Intellectual Orgasm in doing this course. However I have realised that forget about the orgasm, I am not even feeling the erection out of it ! The global meltdown and bleak, uncertain future frustrates me more. And when I think about it, I could blame myself more than anything else for this state of affairs !<br />Earlier I had heard many stories of MBA students slogging day and night in their libraries and hostel rooms finishing assignments and working on presentations. But my own experience has been quite contradictory. Here I am keeping my self busy by indulging in many activities apart from/other than study.<br />My laptop has become my sweetheart here and like a mother of a new born baby I cant keep it away from myself for long time. I almost feel like crying if it stops working. But what am I doing on my laptop?? Here is the laundry list..<br />The top most item on the list is Music. My laptop has helped me to transform my interest in music into a passion. Thanks to 24X7 wi-fi net access, I am downloading all kinds of songs from bhoole bisare geet of binaka geetmala days to current English chart busters.<br />Next comes Films. Although I was never a movie buff and I still watch less movies compared to my friends over here, its relatively quite high compared to my earlier life.<br />Although my real life socializing has declined significantly after coming to Delhi, it has been more than compensated by my virtual life socialising.Be it Gtalk, Yahoo msngr or orkut. They never let me feel lonely and I spend many hours chatting.<br />Last but not the least is my newly found addiction. It has overtaken me completely. Its the high I get out of blogging. Defying candid opinions of my friends about my blog being mediocre and boring, I keep on posting my entries. Try to attract eyeballs by adding pics and other gadgets and attempt to accidentally direct someone to my blog site by promoting it through unsolicited mails, status msgs etc. But can you really blame a guy who is inebriated due to addiction. However I am sure than I am not the only one hooked onto blogging. there are thousands others like me in this virtual world.<br />And what about reading online newspapers, journals, tracking sensex, preparing reports and ppts? Well those are the activities for the stereotype MBA students. Mavericks and rebels like me don't indulge myself in those morbid and mundane activities. I always rely on my self proclaimed high productivity, my extraordinary and time tested <span style="font-style: italic;">Jugaad </span>skills and natural ability to do nonstop <span style="font-style: italic;">bakar</span>.<br />Now lets return back to the real world.<br />Alec smart once said that most of the innovations in this world have been made by intelligent and lazy people . On this basis, I think of myself as an innovative person. However, my friends turned critics don't agree with me completely. They are not sure whether I possess the first attribute but are quite sure about the second one. They corroborate it by saying that I am a dirty bump owing to my seldom washed clothed, my bathing on alternate days and once in a week shaving schedule. But they fail to understand that I am making a style statement here. That I am a rough, rustic and austere guy. I am saving water and electricity by bathing less frequently. Besides washing clothes several times make them look old and leads to colour fading. Now some people compare my room to a garbage dump yard as my clothes and books are spread all over the place. My cup board and drawers are over flowing and the newspapers are lying all over (although I rarely read them). But such a random, non regimented and flexible system is more stable, convenient for user and keeps everything at same accessibility.<br />That's all for tonight. I have had enough of blogging for the day. Its 1:30am and I have to start reading for 2 quizzes on 2moro. Wish me good luck. Byeee :)<br /></div>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-77276214968071873812009-02-10T21:53:00.003+05:302009-06-03T21:03:12.646+05:30Random RamblingsYou are holding me with my arm and we are walking on the busy street..<br />In between I look at you and you look at me.<br />You smile with a blush and I stare you again.<br />Your eyes are beautiful and there is no pain.<br />Your skin is smooth and your lips are tender.<br />Your face is cute and your hands are silver.<br />You dress simple and yet look like an angel.<br /><br />We cross the road and I buy you an ice cream.<br />You always order butterscotch which is favorite of mine.<br />I mess up my ice cream and you wonder every time.<br /><br />We stroll into a park and see the kids playing around.<br />You kiss and hug a baby crawling on the lawn.<br />The baby smiles and you are happier now.<br /><br />You tell me so many things about your life, but that goes in vain.<br />Because I listen to your voice and not what words you explain.<br />You giggle when you come to know all I done as insane.<br />And now you hold me again.<br /><br />I move close to you body and look into your eyes.<br />I remove your hair band and play with your hair.<br />I hold your face in my hands and your heart starts beating fast.<br />You tell me something in my ear and I close my eyes.<br />you now quietly disappear from around.<br />Suddenly I get a feeling of deja vu in my mind.<br />I hear Justin Timberlake saying in the background<br />"What goes around, goes around, goes around<br />Comes all the way back around ".<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbS8GzzmmTxWhYjCcbnLP853_w5F9R8yfbeL8yNWT3AQcrO1-SvwmgUMuz_eJKoP1aW-YihvfZae8lropBxMuxLxohN76qVirOEhoZUDMCNRLdqYKW6dnjjSPvnnn7kJvcUvCawHCmaOOX/s1600-h/holding+hands.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbS8GzzmmTxWhYjCcbnLP853_w5F9R8yfbeL8yNWT3AQcrO1-SvwmgUMuz_eJKoP1aW-YihvfZae8lropBxMuxLxohN76qVirOEhoZUDMCNRLdqYKW6dnjjSPvnnn7kJvcUvCawHCmaOOX/s200/holding+hands.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309275226333385090" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNI2tCaJEsz9CFjp3PH7fD2tTw7jMmwV6MpixDYuO71uPZAwo2R66CRURaJVI-ukuCWp07C3urdmsdQvfOs-grwg7G_a7Gs1b-cBInyNJ083yNnhJPR7JrAljOJDd4a9FXwbIT3PXLVeD/s1600-h/sketch101.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqNI2tCaJEsz9CFjp3PH7fD2tTw7jMmwV6MpixDYuO71uPZAwo2R66CRURaJVI-ukuCWp07C3urdmsdQvfOs-grwg7G_a7Gs1b-cBInyNJ083yNnhJPR7JrAljOJDd4a9FXwbIT3PXLVeD/s200/sketch101.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309275478926569618" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWUpbHtciKf7g58v4Y4T6KI-OPdjkwcUm8h5E0zKA3cph8RO5FVngGzeGDkmKlc5GdWoXdFWTI7af0owgtB1uTX4sbC_QU37kTa5PMhzD-TOaemPWkalfzNYB9UQEZrIcyFZZU6d9u1TtJ/s1600-h/justin+1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWUpbHtciKf7g58v4Y4T6KI-OPdjkwcUm8h5E0zKA3cph8RO5FVngGzeGDkmKlc5GdWoXdFWTI7af0owgtB1uTX4sbC_QU37kTa5PMhzD-TOaemPWkalfzNYB9UQEZrIcyFZZU6d9u1TtJ/s200/justin+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309275799316464386" border="0" /></a>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3294918900954244650.post-36735782466175377662009-01-16T20:08:00.003+05:302009-03-04T16:01:48.872+05:30Slumdog Millionaire is awesome !<div style="text-align: justify;">The heightened interest of westren world in India is manifested by many films made recently by several western and NRI directors with themes based on Indians. Slumdog Millionaire is the latest one in this series. It is based on the book 'Q & A' written by Indian diplomat Vikas Swaroop. Since I have not read the book, I can not comment on whether the director, Danny Boyle has been successful in accurately translating the book into film or which one of the two is better. But Kudos to Danny Boyle for creating an awesome film ! True to his reputation, the film has been directed exceptionally well. It is a story of an impoverished slum youngster, Jamal winning on the tv show 'Who wants to be a Millionaire'. With each question of the quiz, the story takes you to different incidents of his life which have helped him to answer questions correctly. However this extraordinary success on the game show lands Jamal into trouble with suspicions<br /><br /> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQk-Z4_CySorFSCbBvJVre-HoPOsNsHLqZkDIIQB7hPUWFGdYty1U9jxBHmikomsAuW64CWu_XnU_taYOtqsAQIwLn8ZDZJLWIDIiBDQ24lZOO6R6U6kmobEQUK1Qt9eUHRLLCPZoXBUY/s1600-h/slumdog-millionaire-0a.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQk-Z4_CySorFSCbBvJVre-HoPOsNsHLqZkDIIQB7hPUWFGdYty1U9jxBHmikomsAuW64CWu_XnU_taYOtqsAQIwLn8ZDZJLWIDIiBDQ24lZOO6R6U6kmobEQUK1Qt9eUHRLLCPZoXBUY/s320/slumdog-millionaire-0a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309261354694182578" border="0" /></a><br /><br />of cheating in the game. Anyways, some scenes of the film touch your heart and make you realize and appreciate what a struggle it is to live life for such children from slums. But you never feel pity about it and believe in the strength and courage of characters to handle all situations. The film has a fast paced story line and a bit of humour sprinkled in between. The performances of all artists are amazing especially the kids have done a brilliant job. No surprise that the film has won 4 Grammy awards and 10 BAFTA nominations so far !<br />The other films which I have seen recently include Australia, The man from earth and Taxi driver. On a scale of 1 to 5, I would rate them as 3, 4 and 2 respectively.</div>mindpuzzlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01344799277614939644noreply@blogger.com0