tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-314940922024-03-08T11:45:50.605-08:00The Metal HeadMy name is manu. And Metal made me.
These are my thoughts and fantasies. These are my dreams and nightmares. These are the things i do. These are the things i want to do. These are the way I am.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-11884425635827468592013-01-10T03:40:00.000-08:002013-01-10T03:40:35.551-08:00Why I am not proud to be an Indian.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Republic day is around the corner, everybody brace themselves for the "I love India, India is the greatest and proud to be Indian Posts on Facebook. I will be one of them too I guess, because I do love India. But am I proud to be an Indian? No, I am not. And I will tell you why. </div>
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So everybody with a computer and an internet connection is
an activist now, protesting what happened in Delhi. I did my share too. After
all that’s about all we do. We are passive, regressive and accustoming. But that’s
not what bothers me now. I know the reality and like every other problem we
face, I am used to it, has given up on it, my reactions intermitted with
despair, anger, shock, disregard and hope. Pardon me if I sound demented but I
am more bothered about the patriarchal system that is thriving on a victimizing
and vicious rape culture. I am more bothered of a cultural system where there
is a hue and cry questioning the raped as much as the rapist. </div>
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I won’t lie. I am not really proud to be a part of this
country anymore. I am patriotic, don't get me wrong. But I don’t feel any pride
in saying I am an Indian, not when this is a place where a woman needs to live
in perpetual fear of murder, rape, humiliation. And this did not happen with a
Delhi incident or a Mumbai incident. This did not happen because I was
horrified reading brutal details of what a woman had to go through for no fault
of hers. This has been happening to me for a long time, progressively making me
realize how there is nothing much to be proud about. </div>
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Every day I see people sharing one patriotic meme or the
other, stating how we have a unique culture, how our traditions are the best
and how we are super good in everything. We have a diverse culture, we have
more languages than most continents do and we have more art forms per capita
than anybody else. We are a country formed from about 200 states, each one of
them having individuality and identity and a separate culture. We are a
cocktail of so many flavors and types, heady but not hard. But is that what we
are proud of? A phony sense of pride where we have done nothing to deserve the
right to be proud. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So Indians discovered
the number zero thousands of years ago. Big step, no doubt, but why are you and
I proud of it? Did we do anything towards it? Did we do anything to make it
better?</div>
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We have a society and culture where everyday life is a
battle for any woman. Should we be proud of that? We have the caste system, one
of the most heinous divisional system in this world. Should we be proud of this
unique system too? We have a dowry practice where those who can’t afford it
suffers and those who can, brags about it. Men and women are all in this one.
Our ancestors developed the dowry system, shouldn’t we all feel a little bit of
pride? Corruption is no longer a crime, it’s a way of life. And every single
one of us has done their part in this. Shouldnt we all be proudly corrupt. </div>
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One third of our population lives under poverty line ( A
really lenient measure by any standards).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Yet we are proud about our booming economy.
</span>Child sexual harassment is rampant and Female Foeticide is high. Corporal punishments of children result in trauma and even death. And we are proud of how well we bring up our children. Our country
has very low hygiene standards and high intensity of pollution. Our deforestation rates are worrying yet we talk about loving mother India. Our health system is a farce and yet we celebrate when somebody from US or Eruope comes here for cheap medicines, because hey thats how we measure our success.</div>
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Illiteracy is shocking. Our educational
system is an industry to manufacture below par graduates. Yet we are proud of the number of Engineers we churn out every year. Despite a very low percentage making it to the top. We don’t make
inventions, we don’t excel in sports, we don’t win patents, we don’t own
copyrights. We don’t win Nobel prizes or Oscars. We have a population problem
that can’t be tackled because some religious leaders don’t like the idea. We have
people dying of starvation while being the most promising market for luxury
cars. We have an income disparity that is alarming. We have a crime rate that
is cringe worthy.</div>
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And yet you are proud because we had Indus valley civilization. Because of Taj Mahal and Qutub Minar. Because of Mahabharatha and Ramayana. But are we really deserving to be proud of ourselves, Indians? </div>
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It is about time we started facing the reality. If you want
to be proud of this country, earn the right to be. Stop sharing how Indian
national anthem won a non-existing UNESCO award. Stop claiming how you are proud
of this or that. Our culture, is us. It’s how we live, how we think and how we
act. Nothing to be proud of it at this point in time. We are not a great
country by default. We can be great, only if we make it to be. We have a great
past, but that was so long ago, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>let’s
start living in the present where we are heading into no greatness.</div>
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I don’t mean to offend anybody’s patriotic feeling by this.
But the longer we sit back and feel good about things that were of the past, of
meager achievements we are not going to get anywhere. The longer we live under
this phony sense of pride, the longer we are stuck in this place. We need to
face the fact, our culture is not superior, nor is our country. In fact there
are a million ways to improve us, so let us do that. Let us make our culture
superior, let us make our country the greatest and let us all make this a safe
place for men, women, children, rich, poor and all. Let us earn the right to be proud. </div>
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<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>- A Patriotic but disillusioned and ashamed
Indian. </div>
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manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-45936893645770649622011-03-10T22:12:00.000-08:002011-03-27T07:35:11.381-07:00To her, who disappeared<div>This isnt really a poem, its a novice attempt at one. On the back of womans day, here is to all those woman in my life. Those who disappeared that is. Some came back. Some didnt. One never will. This is in no way a complaint or a sad note. Just some thing I wrote down. Thanks to all the women, who have been there with me, made me who I am. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>To her, first love, who disappeared<div>'Coz it was never meant to be</div><div>I was different, she was away</div><div>But will always be special to me</div><div><br /></div><div>To her, the mentor, who disappeared</div><div>'Coz her heart was never here</div><div>Far across the border she went</div><div>A post card saying wish you were near</div><div><br /></div><div>To her, the devout, who disappeared</div><div>'Coz she thought she was falling for me</div><div>In me she saw some one else</div><div>Some one I was never going to be</div><div><br /></div><div>To her, the loud one, who disappeared</div><div>'Coz she thought I was playing </div><div>I was her everything, meant the world</div><div>And then just a memory that was fading</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>To her, the radiant, who disapppeared</div><div>'Coz I couldnt get along with the man</div><div>I did my best, i stuck by her</div><div>But guess she took a different stand</div><div><br /></div><div><div>To her, the fair one, who disappeared</div><div>Coz she was blinded by pain</div><div>I tried to be there, lift her up</div><div>But it all just went in vain</div></div><div><br /></div><div>To her, the mentee, who disappeard</div><div>'Coz we both went in different ways</div><div>Life is like that, cant be helped</div><div>But she was back, it was just a phase</div><div><br /></div><div>To her, the best friend, who disappeared</div><div>'Coz i was crying and blaming a lot</div><div>But I was there for her when she needed me</div><div>Where did she go when i was lost</div><div><br /></div><div>To her, sigh! who disappeared</div><div>'Coz i had turned to be a freakshow</div><div>I know its my fault, uninted though</div><div>Punished but see I was just lost and low</div><div><br /></div><div>To her, the planet, who disappeared</div><div>'Coz i was a bloat in the new picture</div><div>But she will always have a place </div><div>With the thousand memories I treasure</div><div><br /></div><div>To her, the highness, who disappeared</div><div>'Coz his envy had become her fear</div><div>It wasnt love, that she saw late</div><div>Nothing that cant be fixed with some beer </div><div><br /></div><div>And to her, the psychonaut, who disappeared</div><div>And left the world without a good bye</div><div>Coz She didnt want them to see her and cry</div><div>You will always be missed my beloved flutterby</div>manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-19900291292415255842011-03-07T04:04:00.000-08:002011-03-13T03:50:52.357-07:00For the love of the Game<p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">It was a lovely morning. It had rained the day before, the earth was still wet. A soothing warm wind blew over me as I walked on the wet road covered with fallen leaves. I could hear the birds chirping, laughter of kids enjoying the reprieve the rain brought to the screeching summer holidays. My girlfriend-to-be had a few days back confessed her love for me. I had a 100% pay rise a week back. It looked like a perfect day was ahead. Everybody seemed so happy, everything seemed so good. Only, I felt like the world had ended. My heart was broken to a million pieces. I had cried along with the rain. I was close to a depression, the world seemed cruel to me. No, there was nothing lovely about that morning for me. Why? Because Arsenal had lost in the UEFA Champions League final the previous evening to Barcelona. I just couldn't bear the pain. If only Lehman wasn't sent off. If only Pires had stayed on. If only Arsenal had won. </span></b><span style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 18px; "> </span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-weight: bold; line-height: 18px; "><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"">That’s how it is for a true sports fan. Especially for a football fan. You live with the club in your blood. The club is not a third party that you just like. The club is a part of you and you are a part of the club. The oneness you feel with the team is unexplainable. The happiness, the grief, victory and defeat. All of it is yours too. “<span class="apple-style-span">I fell in love with football as I was later to fall in love with women: suddenly, inexplicably, uncritically, giving no thought to the pain or disruption it would bring with it”, so wrote </span>Nick Hornby in his famous footy novel “Pitch Fever”. He couldn’t be more right. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-weight: bold; line-height: 18px; "><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"">My love affair with Arsenal had started in the 1999-2000 season. Like every Indian I was also a cricket fanatic while i was younger. Every other sport seemed boring, uninteresting or even unnecessary depending on how good or bad India was doing in those. One of those days I came across English Premier League. I don’t remember now but I must have been bored out of my wits that I was watching an EPL review show. And Arsenal caught my interest mainly because Manchester United were the favourites to win that season and Arsenal were the best in terms of a competition. That season I supported Arsenal silently more as a protest to everybody’s favourites than anything else. They finished second place, a whopping 18 points below Man Utd that season. But that didn’t matter. Arsenal had slowly seeped into my blood. I was a gunner before I knew it. And my love story with Arsenal had begun. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-weight: bold; line-height: 18px; "><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"">From there onwards till now, Ive been with the gunners through their every up and down. I was with them when they finished an entire season and 49 games unbeaten during what was termed the invincible era. I was with them when they scraped to finish in fourth place just about managing to earn a Champions League spot. </span><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"">No matter who comes in, no matter who goes out, Arsenal as an entity will remain and nothing and no one is bigger than the club. It doesn’t matter if Arsenal wins the league or finish rock bottom. I will still always stand by them. Its like your own family that you cant disown even if they turn out bad. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; ">This is a love that in my experience most who belong to the fair sex don’t really understand. I am not saying none of them follow it. A lot of them do. But the majority never really get it, and it’s just not their thing to be fair. No complaints. But as the fans of Arsenal sang to their loved ones, sitting in the stadium watching their team play on a valentine’s day… "I love Arsenal more than you".</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-weight: bold; line-height: 18px; "><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"">Every pass they make, every goal they score, every tackle, every fall, every push and pull, everything they do has an effect on us gunners. I scream, yell, whine, moan (not sexually), roll my eyes, beat my head, hit the wall, throw the remote, kick the chair, bite my nails off, poke my eyes out, abuse the world, ponder believing again, sulk , sweat, run around, <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>pump my fist, jump off things, jump on things, smile, grin, laugh, smirk and bask in glory in reaction to what happens to the Arsenal. So it doesn’t matter if a few years down the lane Arsenal cease to be a big club. I will still love them. Arsenal will still be the one for me. Loyal, dedicated and truly loving the red and white. And my girl friend thought I was commitment <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>phobic. Ha! <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Come on you gunners!<o:p></o:p></span></p></span><p></p>manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-49979402660330083392011-02-28T03:36:00.000-08:002011-02-28T04:28:37.701-08:00The Guy, The Girl, The Place And A Time Called Time Soon<p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:48.0pt;line-height:115%"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:48.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Algerian">The guy,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:48.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Algerian">The girl,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:48.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Algerian">The place<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:48.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Algerian">And a time called soon.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:28.0pt;line-height:115%"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:28.0pt;line-height:115%"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:28.0pt;line-height:115%"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:252.0pt"><span style="font-size:28.0pt; line-height:115%"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:36.0pt;line-height: 115%;font-family:"Bradley Hand ITC"">MaNu<br /><o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Chiller"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Chiller"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Chiller"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Chiller"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Chiller">PREFACE<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: Chiller">This story is part fiction and part reality. Born out of boredom, a whirlpool of my thoughts and experiences intervened with imagination for convenience and sake of privacy. Any resemblance to people or events is quite possible, and I don’t really care.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: Chiller"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: Chiller"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Chiller">AUTHOR’S NOTE<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: Chiller">Good job I would say. Especially when it was done on the eve of an examination for which zero preparation has taken place and the only thing that keeps me awake is smoking. I hope someone reads this. Thanks to any who does. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: Chiller"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: Chiller"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: Chiller"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:Chiller">ACKNOWLEDGEMENT<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: Chiller">My sincere thanks go to the MG University for creating the right environment for developing my writing skills. To the Photostat shop who helped me in printing out this document. For the people who inspired me into writing this. To bombs for helping me with this endeavour. And to God for not existing.<br /><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif"">Let me tell you a story. Like every story worth telling, this is about a girl. And a boy who meets her. But they don’t blindly fall in love head over heels in this one. That’s clichéd. That’s so the movies. No. This one is different. This is not a love story. This is something else. It’s just a story, about a guy, who met a girl, went to a place and so on. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>What happened to them then? I will tell you. Soon.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It all started in a monsoon season. But owing to global warming, it was not raining. The guy, let’s call him, well, the guy, was a stranger to the city. It was a new beginning for him, a chance to start over new. Lost in a world that was bizarrely intimidating and dull at the same time, he was cursing every minute for the decision he had made to come to this place, which we will call “the school”. He didn’t want to make new acquaintances. He didn’t want to blend in. He just wanted to go back to familiarity. This baffled him, because he was the one to ram into any group of people and stake claim to acceptance. Nevertheless it wasn’t to be so here. Not yet. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>His haphazard attempts failing, he continued to be a spectator of a life where everyone was having a ball, everyone knew everyone else and no one knew about his existence. It was like sitting through a trigonometry class full of math geeks where you are the only one who is going insane and think this is injustice. Ah! The pains of growing up as a student of math. He stayed in the hostel with other familiar strangers, sharing the room with a rather nice fellow, whom we will call “roomie”. Slowly like everyone else he started hanging out with a group of people who became his friends by the mere coincidence of seating arrangements. The group, bunch of friends, were unlike him in thought and action, but he settled for it. Changes would happen. Soon. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One of those days, he walked into the school cafeteria, to make up for a missed breakfast caused by a late waking up in turn caused by a late night of mindless internet browsing. He saw his bunch of friends going about greeting other people and sharing laughs. He stood there in the middle of the cafeteria, drowned in his uneasiness of not belonging there, looking around for anything that might keep his mind occupied. There, across the table, he saw her. A pretty sight made up of a cute face, a disarming smile and very feminine features. His mind searched for a suitable adjective, for future reference. Cute? More than that. Pretty? Not enough. Angel? A little too much. Finally he settled for sexy, because in the end, you don’t have to worry about being politically correct inside your mind. No one is going to sue you for disrespectful behaviour for your dirty thoughts and wild fantasies. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She was talking to some guy (not our guy) while scanning the crowd, probably looking for something more interesting. She saw him. For reasons unknown to mankind, she smiled at him, with her eyes blinking, like she was telling him that she was looking for him. The moment passed and she continued her 180 degree environment scan, smiling at others, mouthing hi hellos and finally settled for the person she was standing with. He was happy that day. Later that evening he went drinking, with his bunch of friends and roomie and the familiar strangers of hostel and told them about the girl he saw. Things changed from that day onwards. A new purpose filled him as he moved around talking, making friends, cracking jokes and being noticed. It is safe to say that he was sort of popular, in no time at all. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then on a day of spring, while it was raining (global warming again), the guy walked into the auditorium actively scanning for an ideal place to sit, which by definition is in the midst of girls. He saw her again, and as luck would have it, sitting with one of his friends, with a seat right behind her vacant. He could almost read a ‘reserved for’ sign with his name hanging on that chair. He sat down like it was normal, greeting those around him. He spoke to her that day. He made her laugh that day. He liked her even more that day. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; "><i><span><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; "> </span><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; "> </span><span style="font-family: 'Palatino Linotype', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 150%;">Like every guy true to his heart will tell you, friends from the other gender increases your self respect and social acceptance among other fellow guys. The guy soon had his gang of friends, dominated in numbers by females, notorious for their irreverence and lively for a dull school. Days passed, months passed and eventually a year passed. Days of ups and downs, glory and shame, victories and failures, love and heartbreaks, drunkenness and sobriety. He earned his fame with great friends. On the other hand, the girl was always popular. She had famous and in demand written on all about her. Influenced by the presence of other attractive girls, and lack of attention from the girl, he started forgetting about her. Or rather, not actively thinking about her. But somewhere inside him, in the dark corridors of fantasies and day dreams, she poked her head now and then, pleasantly reminding him of that smile in the cafeteria. But first impressions not withstanding, he thought of her as a spoilt rich kid with an attitude of a snob to go along. She was rich, she seemed to have very cool friends and she was always the well dressed and well to do kind. They kept their distances with each other, nothing more than </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 24px;">acquaintances</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 150%;">. His attempts at flirting with her never really took off. They shared a good vibe, but remained friends who hang out but don’t know anything about each other. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After summer break, school was back to being dull. Too many things changed. Too many friends committed, busy with other things, everyone by now used to being away from each other. Classes became much more than just boring. On one such day the guy walked into the class, a few minutes late and instantly spotted the girl and a vacant spot next to hers. For the first time they sat together and spent the three hours of that class talking endlessly, about things ranging from public news to private thoughts. The guy told her about the crush he used to nurse for her. He expected the girl to react like it happens every day with her. But instead the girl was surprised and in a way glad to find out that the guy would like someone like her. Mutual praising followed with promises of to make up lost time, to get to know each other more and have all the fun they missed. At the end of that class for the first time in his life the guy wanted to scream, “once more”, to the faculty. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Lunch dates and outings followed. Birthday gifts and late night phone calls happened. The girl found him to be really sweet. The guy found her to be irresistible. For him, she was the one of the prettiest, sweetest and most interesting girl he had ever met. Shopping was never his hobby, but it soon became his hot favourite. He wanted to impress her. She didn’t have to. They shared the loudest laughs and wildest dreams. After a few weeks he asked her, if she wanted to come with him to a place, which we will call the place, to just hang out and have fun. After a million changes she finally said yes. And they went. The beach, the coffee shop over looking it, the home made cocktails, the vast starry ceiling, the groovy black music and the two of them. It was the best few hours he ever had in his entire life. It was magical. The girl and the guy could never stop talking about it. They couldn’t stop reminiscing and smiling about it. Their conversations on the phone became longer. They just couldn’t get enough of it. They couldn’t resist holding hands, blowing kisses and looking at each other. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They stopped and asked themselves and each other, what’s going on. After much deliberation they accepted that they are not in love. It was a special place that was in between love and friendship. The grey area of uncertainty that brought both the warmth of friendship and the feeling of belonging. Something special, something undefined. Bad? They didn’t know. Good? Definitely. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The guy was in a selfish way overwhelmed with all of these. He couldn’t believe his luck. She was awesome, in the true awe inspiring sense of the word. And she wanted to be around him. She would call him, tell him she misses him, laugh at his jokes, and say he is special. He never expected her to like him, leave alone like him so much. One day she said to him, “I hereby declare you as the best thing that has ever happened to me”. That was the single greatest thing he had ever heard about himself. Anything that made her happy, he took a note of and tried to do it again. Things went on like that for a few weeks, with a plan to visit the place once more. He learned a song to sing for her while holding her hand at the beach, waves caressing their feet. He made plans on what to do, where to go, how to spend each minute of it, in detail. She was excited too. They would go there again. Soon. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One day, in summer, when it was hot and sunny, as it should be, although we can still blame the global warming for it, he came back home from a busy day. He called her up to catch up on things, but she didn’t pick up. Thinking she must have slept off, he let it be. He called her again the next day, no answer. He continued doing it with the same result. He sent messages and mails, all of which were ignored. He went crazy. After a week he met her in school, ready to get angry if she had no reason for such behavior, ready to forgive her if she did have a reason and ready to apologize if the reason was he. She looked a mess, red eyed, stain of tears that ran down her cheeks still visible. He wasn’t ready for that. The next few days were hell for both in different ways. She had lost a friend to a fight, which broke her heart and opened her flood gates. She couldn’t believe he would do something like that and blamed herself for the misery that had befallen on her. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He wasn’t sure what he should do. He tried to be around her, comfort her, make her feel better, by talking to her, taking her out and being with her. All of which failed as she went into a shell of self defence to pain. The guy would have done anything to make her happy, but she didn’t want to be happy. “I am not the girl you knew before”, she said. He didn’t know the consequences of this statement then. But he would learn. Soon. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He tried to tell her the friend wasn’t worth it. He tried telling her that she was more valuable than she thought. Her self respect went down the drain. He wished she could see herself through his eyes. Wished she could see how good she was. Every attempt he made to get her out of that self imposed sole imprisonment met with utter failure. Some cold responses began to get him scared whether she would think of him as just some one after her for selfish reasons. He kept his distance because she asked for it. A distance that only got wider with time. His ego got better of him at times, only to give in a little while later. She is in pain; give her the support she wants, your ego is not worth it, he kept telling himself. He was angry at her friend who would, for whatever reason walk away from a girl like her. She was too precious for that. Ironically, the friend who walked away got all her attention. The guy who was with her was practically non-existent. The girl was ready to do anything for that friend, to make him happy and bring him back to her life. The guy was ready to do anything for that girl, to make her happy and bring her back to her cheery self. Only, the guy didn’t know where he went wrong. He hoped things would be normal again. Soon. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As time went on things got better for her, she began to smile genuinely again. Her friend came back to her life, her happiness along with him. But the guy was stuck in the same place. Not knowing what his next step his, unaware of his current position and with no idea of what his role in the picture is. He couldn’t help but think that she had forgotten all about him. Every time he went closer to her, she went farther away. He was turned down again and again for previously cherished meetings. His phone calls were answered with lesser frequency, call backs even lesser than that. Messages were unread or unanswered. Every call, every message he got was answered and checked with a hope it was her. Was he imagining it all up? The guy confronted her and asked her. She denied. She gave umpteen reasons for everything that he thought was going wrong. But it was a tedious loop which kept on repeating for him. The magical time was never mentioned again, the sweet flying kisses and winks never came. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He felt like it was a sweet dream, with a bad ending. Was good while it lasted, maybe too good for it to have lasted any longer. Things could have gotten worse. But then again things could have gotten better. Or remained the same. The guy always wondered; how is that he will make her see, what she means to him. How is that he will let her know that he doesn’t have any other intentions? That he is not in love with her, but he does love her. That she was indeed the best thing that ever happened to him. That he does not want any favours from her. That there is no hidden agenda. That there is no hope of benefit. But that he only wants that place in her heart, for that special friend, which belonged to him, the loss of which keeps bothering and haunting him. Every fucking day. Every fucking hour. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then one day, of some unknown season, he walked into his mind. He looked around him at a crowd of known strangers and lost friends. Alone in company, drowned in his uneasiness of not belonging there, looking around for anything that might keep his mind occupied. There, across the path he saw her. She was looking around, assured of her bearings, passively observing the sea of people around her. The moment her eyes met his she smiled. The disarming, seductive smile. The moment passed, and with a slight wink of her eyes and a sigh she looked away, at other things to smile at. But the guy would bet on his life, that the smile she had for him was different from all of the others. That the wink meant much more. That the sigh implied something. He couldn’t prove it, not even to her. But was it that easy for her to look away. Didn’t that smile and wink they shared, though only for a short moment mean anything to her? Was the guy so easy to be erased? Sigh! The dream was over; good while it lasted, too good to have lasted any longer. Would things get better? He hoped it would. Soon. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p><br /></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center;line-height:150%"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><span style="font-size:36.0pt;line-height: 150%;font-family:"Goudy Stout","serif"">THE END<o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Palatino Linotype","serif""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-9293026208700012552010-06-02T22:47:00.000-07:002010-06-04T02:26:10.114-07:00The Atheist Heaven<p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal">Everything was dark. A thick peaceful silence. I was in pain. The air was chemical. And I was in chains. I opened my eyes, but I was blinded by the sudden rush of bright light into my retinas. I closed them and opened again. This time slowly, adjusting to the light both welcome and disturbing at the same time. Everything I saw was white, pure white, like milk. I tried to sit up but I couldn’t move. I was in chains.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:2"> </span>My dazed vision could only see a blurry image. It was just plain white. I tried to gather my thoughts, my brain working with an unpleased half approval. “Where am I?” I was lying on something soft, fluffy and white. Like a cloud? I was drowned in it. “What is this? The Milky Way? Or am I in heaven”, I wondered. In the pure, serene and plain heaven, sitting on a cloud. It couldn’t be. There is no heaven. Even if there was one I certainly wouldn’t be there. A fog started filling up the place. A thick white fog, getting thicker and heavier and then suddenly everything was dark again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:2"> </span>After an unknown time period, I opened my eyes again. My vision was still blurry and I was still in pain and chains. I saw something moving, a silhouette of a person. I tried to focus. A lady was standing there dressed in white. On her face was a concerned, tired and excited smile. Over her head I saw a white ring, a halo. She was beautiful. I saw her lips moving but there was no sound. Something was moving on both sides of her ribs, like flapping wings. “Is she an angel? Is this heaven after all ? What heaven? No heaven. No angels. They are all fairytales and make believes”. I look at her again, to make some sense out of this mystery but she was not there, shewais gone. Vanished. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:2"> </span>An eternity of time passed and my foggy eyes saw people walking. They were coming towards me, lead by a tall, fair and well built man, followed by the angel I met before and another lady, all dressed in white. I looked at that man with a face yelling authority and confidence, radiating assurance and kindness. A black and shiny snake was curled around his neck, like on a demon god. He moved towards me while I struggled to cast a defence against those strange looking strangers. He lifted the twin bodied snake from his neck. With his one hand he cleared the cloudy cover over me and placed the snakes open mouth on my bare chest. Even though it had been years since I had taken the path of rationality, ditching the gods and myths of my upbringing, I started praying again. For the first time in years my belief in disbelief was shaken. I closed my eyes and braced for the painful encounter with the fangs while I mumbled names of Hindu gods.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But it didn’t bite. The sudden fear cleared my head. The adrenaline, pumped as a survival mechanism, cleared my dazed vision and focused my thoughts. I looked again desperate for an explanation to all the madness. “Wait. That is not a snake, I have seen it before”. Then it all came to me, like the realisation after a dream, that it’s just a dream, sometimes saddening, sometimes relieving, and every time kicking in the sense of reality. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The bloody snake was a stethoscope. He was a doctor not a crazy demon god accompanied with snakes. Heaven was a damn white and tidy hospital room and my cloud was a fucking sick bed. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:2"> </span>“How are you feeling now?” The demon god doctor guy asked me. I parted my lips to answer but nothing came to my head, so I just smiled. The doctor turned to the angels and mumbled something I couldn’t decipher. He turned to me and said, “You are fine” like he was answering his own question on behalf of me. He pointed to the bandages and said something about fractures. Bandages and fractures, which explained the chains. He turned to the angel and again mumbled something and walked off the heaven. The nurse walked towards me and without any courtesy one might expect in heaven, forced a thermometer into my mouth, without even asking me and started preparing the BP apparatus. I started my thought factory, which was working on overload in no time. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was taken aback by my own reaction to a crisis. I was unpleasantly surprised with myself for taking immediate refuge in the easy path of faith, albeit helped by my physical and mental conditions. I finally realised why, even when Reason stares at their face, Logic tells them otherwise and Evidence points in a different direction, people still hold on to their faith, instilled in their child hood assisted with fear and magic. It’s easier to do that. It’s much more comforting to just believe in some unknown power than to leave our life to time and fate, to chance. It feels better to believe, even if it’s without conviction, that some god will take care of everything. It does not take effort to disbelieve. That everyone can do by default. But it takes effort to discontinue believing in something. The path of a sceptic is not an easy one. Conflicts of interests and childhood indoctrination can prove to be too much of a blockade. But if anything, I realised that reason and science has a big fight in hand. My doubt was stronger, my disbelief deeper. I found out my enemy’s secret weapon. Fear of the unknown. I will be better prepared. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My thought train was broken by the nurse who retrieved the thermometer from my mouth and stared at it for a few seconds. Satisfied with whatever she saw, she smiled a half smile and walked away, promising me that she will be back later. “Excuse me!” I stopped her on an impulse. Not knowing what to do next, I asked her rather sheepishly, “what is your name?” She smiled and replied, “Angel.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I looked at her in amazement. She seemed to be offended by my stare and quickly turned around with her over coat flapping about like wings. The nurse cap of a halo was still on her head. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">There goes Angel. Walking, not flying. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:2"> </span></p><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:2"> </span></p>manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-90509350450516009972010-05-23T12:55:00.000-07:002010-05-23T13:04:41.313-07:00Question Marked- revisited.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; ">In life we ask a lot of questions and get a few answers. Although i hated them during my 17 years of educational circus I ask a lot of questions too. What the fuck currently tops my list. It is a very powerful and versatile question with a lot of application in day to day life. My boss asks this question every time I submit my report. It can be rephrased to mean a whole range of things. like "What the fuck am I writing" to "what the fuck are you reading" The variety of online forums I visited had this weird looking word WTF in almost every article. I had no idea what it was and I was like what the fuck. And then it struck me. Bingo. WTF means what the fuck. Talk about discoveries.<br /><br />But WTF is not the point here. Asking questions is the sign of an earn for learning. To learn new things, to make new discoveries and to irritate the hell out of people. The first one to put this idea into my head was my teacher in school Mr. Satheesh. Now he was a gem of a person. One of those rare personalities who can talk for an hour and say absolutely nothing. He used to preach about the importance of asking questions.<br /><br />Mr.Satheesh - So class. I am what I am today and in this poistion because I asked a lot of questions.<br />My idle brain - ( point to note down...never ask questions or you will end up like that)<br />Mr.Satheesh - If you pay attention and ask questions you will certainly succeed in life<br />My idle brain- (Contradicting Statements)<br />Mr.Satheesh - So start asking questions. who has a question here<br />Me Me Me - OK. So what the fuck are you talking about.<br /><br />I consider to be thrown out of the class as an honour. And from Mr.Satheesh's class its a privilege and gift.<br /><br />All through life we come accross a parade of questions. The thought provoking, "makes u feel ignorant", intelligent questions. And then there are the people asking the most stupid and silly questions. And when u dont know the answer follow the Dilbert principle and confuse them with a list of unanswerable questions ( If u want a list of unanswerable questions, my entrance question papers are still with me)<br /><br />All said and done, to ask a question is a basic right of every human being( this doesnt include asking girls for phone numbers and asking the Govt. for anything) When u have no idea whats going on dont just sit and wonder, ask around. you may feel dumb but i bet atleast half the people around you have no clue either. Nothing to lose and a whole lot to gain.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; ">My point is ( yes , i finally got there), when some one tells you this is how it is, why believe without a reason. Superstitions and religions included, there are many things that we take in as a fact without ever questioning their credibility. So when you think there is something which doesn't make sense, ask. Ask why it is how it is. Ask why it cant be another way. It would make a lot of difference, believe me. Now don't take that for a fact either, go ahead ask me why.<br /><br />Now lemme go and ask my next question to boss. When do i get my next pay rise? I know the answer already.....What the fuck.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; ">PS - Originally written while i was working, hence the reference to work and pay and accounts department. Right now am unemployed and pretty jobless. </span></div>manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-9324402288438054312010-04-27T11:13:00.000-07:002010-04-27T11:23:27.301-07:00Killing in the name of....This is another one. Again written in the classroom. Inspired by a book on the afghanistan war. Both the poem titles are lifted directly from titles of songs by Rage Against the Machine. Not by a prior decision, but they just fit. :)<br /><br /><br />I wake up, sit on my bed and I wonder<br />Look around me, why the hell did I even bother<br />To walk out of my sleep<br />My façade of solace and peace<br />I don’t even know how I am supposed to feel<br />Or if I understand their cries fears and pleas<br />Not that I can’t understand what I see<br />But it was me who made them bleed<br />In the name of senseless creed<br />What they say, I don’t even know what it means<br />But I’m still alive, that should make me smile<br />So why? Do I just sit and cry?<br />So if I tell you I didn’t want to<br />Would you believe my truth?<br />That I was told to<br />Protect the lie<br />I’m not fighting my fight<br />I just want to survive<br />I kill, because I don’t want to die.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-31982144652735629492010-04-27T11:07:00.000-07:002010-04-27T11:11:44.136-07:00Calm like a Bomb!I'm no poet. And i really do suck at it. But then here it is anyway. This one was written in my class room, requested and then inturn inspired by my friend who was sitting next to me. This is dedicated to her. :)<br /><br /><br />Everybody looks at her face, but can’t see through her<br />Everybody knows her name, but nobody knows her<br />Like a deep mystery, love lost in a blur<br />Like that teasing face of a poster girl<br /> <br />She takes you on a ride, merry is her middle name<br />Will be the comfort, the sweet song in your pain<br />And when sorrow leaves her a gloomy rain<br />Still shines on, a blazing eternal flame<br /><br />The eyes, the lustrous eyes of a magical romance<br />Leaves the heart, breathless in a dance<br />Like the fairytale of a mystical glance<br />A moment, the world lost in a trance<br /><br />There is truth in her words, love that flows<br />Pretty as a princess in legends of long ago<br />The kid in her who refuses to grow<br />A heart as pure as snow<br /><br />Her smile like a wild flower, unmoved by the storm<br />Her laughter, a riot of joyous intone<br /> In her world, crazy is the norm<br />Sigh, calm like a bombmanuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-60655202734340356342009-02-03T07:59:00.000-08:002009-02-03T08:05:20.150-08:00My Shocking Truth !I am an atheist. That’s the next worst thing you can say in this world after I am gay. Neither is wrong, if you really consider it to be ones personal choice. But telling your religious parents that you find the whole idea about religions funny, doesn’t give you a funny result. How dare you think logically and reason huh? Younger ones more or less accept it without much fuss. But some still think - It’s the new in thing among some metal heads like satanic worship and devil cults. They don’t understand that atheists don’t believe in that either. Satan sure sounds cool and seems to be thinking more on our terms, but it’s still a myth. It’s the God believers who believe in satan and hell and all those cool names American pubs have.<br /><br />So with my enlightened self, I thought its good to have conversation with religious people regarding religion. I thought it was educational to have debates with them. I thought they would listen to my point of view, just like I listen to theirs. I thought they would consider it to be fair to hear my case. So, I was wrong. Sue me.<br /><br />I was wrong because of religious people and their strong faith. Its quiet interesting what happens to their strong faith when you even say anything remotely negative about their religion. The faith that’s not supposed to waver, that’s not supposed to be doubted, that’s not supposed to be affected by anything, just vanishes and is replaced by anger or irritation. They all take it personally. Well faith is a personal matter you might say. People hold it very close and it’s like insulting their mother or likes. But that doesn’t mean that others can’t question them. I mean, if I tell a person, your mother actually doesn’t exist and that she’s a myth, the person would at worst laugh at me. Because that person knows for sure it is not true. But when I say hey your god doesn’t exist, they go crazy fucking wild. Because they are not sure if its true and don’t want it to be questioned? <br /><br />It’s not normal to be an atheist in this world. But like Richard Dawkins said, everyone is an atheist. As far as a muslim is concerned, a Christian or a hindu is an atheist, because he doesn’t believe in allah. Atheist just goes one god further. Anyway. The point is, I had people come and ask me what made me an atheist. And I answer them. With all the reasons I have for it. Starting from how rubbish the idea sounds to me. Whoa! That’s blasphemy, that’s murder. Come on. I don’t expect people to listen to me and convert to atheism. I don’t expect them to believe or even understand what I believe in. But at the least, let me be. I can drink and smoke myself to death, and they wont care. But I don’t go to temples and hey I am wasting my life away. I will pay for it in hell. I guess I would have to pay anyway. So how much is a beer for?<br /><br /> I personally think religion is the root of many evils and that god is a mythical super hero. But that’s my perspective. I will stick to it. I don’t want any ones support, and I can very well handle people ridiculing me. Because I believe in atheism. I don’t fool myself and the rest of the world that I believe it. I just do. So it doesn’t matter to me what they say about how I think, I will continue being myself and I won’t take any of it personally. So for people who get insulted every time I say Mahabharatha is an entertaining story or that I think Jesus Christ is a fictional character, I guess I cant do much about it. Hold on to your faith, if you really have one. Cheers!manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-67420543125006747392007-10-30T16:51:00.000-07:002007-10-30T16:58:23.806-07:00Spare some time, spoil your parents!I was given everything I ever needed by my parents. Education( never mind that it was the worst school in the town; they had no clue either), clothes, all the food I can eat, all the movies I wanted to watch, all those things that make our life worth living. And most importantly they gave me my freedom and space. In short they spoiled me (My English was spoilt by the aforementioned school though)<br /><br />So now that I have grown up (physically at least) its time for me to repay my parents. I can give them whatever money I make, I can get them the new generation luxuries. Send them on a holiday trip to wherever they fancy. I have instead decided to just spoil them. That's what they would like more(and at this point that's all I can afford) There is a huge age gap between me and my parents because they had a late marriage. And I guess my father and mother took it seriously when Nehru said that our country is going to progress with the five year plans. There is exactly 5 years of gap between the 3 of us siblings. So I was born late as well. It doesn't matter now. I am a big boy now (more so on the waist)<br /><br />All I want to do for them is what they did for me. It's a little too late to put them to the same school as mine (wish I could; then they will know why I hate my school life) but I can do all the other things they did for me. I want to drive them wherever they want to go. Wait for them outside when they have parties at their friends place and dad can't drive (and I can't drink). Take my mom shopping whenever she feels like. Make sure they don't have to travel by bus or walk at any time. Make them eat their medicines, make them meet the doctor. Make sure they sleep properly. Take them to the movies and buy them popcorn. Have a sumptuous dinner at a nice restaurant. Go out with them to the beach and watch my mom holding on to my hands when the wave comes up, just like I held on to hers some 20 years back. It feels good.<br /><br /><br />At a point of your life, your relationship with your parents goes into a reverse mode. You start taking care of them. You get worried when they are late in reaching home. You get worried when they are not feeling well. You become the caretaker and them the carefree children.<br /><br /><br />So what made me write all these goody stuff (other than to make me look good). A few days back I was teaching my mom how to use the mobile and internet. I was irritated at times when she could not understand simple things. I lost patience, raised my voice and my face looked like I lost hope. She never complained. She just smiled and said it takes time. She wrote down all that I told her. Next day, I got an SMS on my phone. "Hi how are you?" it was from my mom's number. She learned how to use it. She went a step further and started using my computer, connect to internet, find the railways website and checked the PNR status of her ticket. The pride she had in her face when she told me she did it alone. And I could not believe it. I know a lot of people do that. But for some one at her age who has never used a computer I thought that was one hell of an achievement. She was happy and that's all she wants. And i wonder how long she spent explaining the thousands of things that was new to me. Answering my never ending queries and doubts. And I couldnt do that properly even once. Well I will.<br /><br /><br />So I am going to go ahead and spoil them. Let my dad eat some oily food without worrying about his cholesterol level .Let my mom have her peanut candy without me reminding her about the sugar level. Let them live for themselves and have a great time. That's the least I could do for them. Cheers!!!manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1325480985118675202007-04-20T23:33:00.000-07:002007-05-19T07:15:05.617-07:00The God, the Bad and the Ugly.Disclaimer and warning :- If you are some one who likes or follows any holymen-godmen, plz dont read the following. It will probably piss u off. and i dont want to offend anyone. this is just my point of view and thoughts, and i dont intend to be harsh or rude or hurt anyones feelings. ( i keep imagining that atleast 100 ppl read this daily and i need to be careful abt not offending em. ) anyway. i did my part now dont go ahead read and say that my words hurt ur feelings, coz i dont realy care.<br /><br />Here we go -<br /><br />Am not a religious person, and hence have a problem with all the rituals and superstitions that people around me hold dear. But I can live with that. There is one thing I cant stand, and that is the human incarnations of gods, the messengers, the divine, the holy, The Godmen and the Godwomen( this is perhaps one scene in India where man and woman are very equal). Maas and Ammas, swamis and mantriks. If it wasnt really a sad thing, I would feel funny living around these people.<br /><br />To start with there is the most important of them all, Sai Baba. He spots an afro hair style of the 70s and wears saffron(inevitably) but has got more followers than the very fashion concious sports, music and movie stars. Because eventhough he doesnt really have any talent (par Magic) he is said to be closer to god than the rest of us. Must be pretty special. He was accused of homosexualtiy by a multiple of disicples, his fraudulent magics were caught on tape, his special bhasma was proved to have materialised not from thin air, but from a capsule he holds between his fingers. Oh! But he lives in India, here godmen can commit murder and getaway with it, so there defintely is nothing wrong with a little magic. Kids love magic and we all love kids, so lets forgive that.<br /><br /><br />No one knows better about not being forgiven than the ex-great Chandra Swamiji Maharaj, popularly known as Chandra Swami.Its a shame on our country that the time for swearing in of the whole nations prime minister(PV Narasimha Rao in 1991), was picked by a godman, and not by anyone related to the administration, and without any respect to the convenience of anyone else in this whole nation. But it was the least important issue related to this holy guy. So famous was this Guru and disciple that, Chandraswami was considered the second most powerful man in this nation without even standing in a municipal election. He could walk around metal detectors(this time without magic) and into the PM residence without even a minor search. The man who thus literally ruled the PM, went down the drain with more allegations than even God can handle. The honoured swamiji was then called the " con man in saffron " , who was literally conning money from people. He spent his time in Tihar Jail while the beloved disciple had to run for cover. Narasimha Rao who was accused of more corruption than anyother prime minster, had his gurus blessings in everythinghe did. But we, the people still didnt learn.<br /><br />Then there comes the Amma who hugs everyone, the maaji who places her foot on everyones head, the prema sai who was found to be living the way his name suggests, sleeping around, making love. There are tons of them. Maybe there are more Godmen than engineers here. And its not only in hinduism. There are the same kind of people among muslims, jews and christians. Fake fakirs and conning missionaries. And not only in India, but all over the world. But by far India is the worst affected.<br /><br />I know there is another side to this. The free hospitals and schools run by these godmen's ashrmas. The big projects for the upliftment of people. The lots and lots of good things done by them. I am not forgetting it. Maybe its a kind of business where they give belssings, earns money, does charity and lives on fat profit. A perfect ideal business. Everyones a winner , because they share their wealth. But then nobody asks them where their wealth comes from. I wonder whether income tax has any laws for money earned through being a godman ? But as far as people consider them as a god and let them con the public, we are never going to change. I honestly dont expect people to wake up from this trance of holiness, but i hope someday the truth behind the gods and the bads and uglies come out to the public. Maybe some day we will be living among a few goodmen rather than a few god men.<br /><br />PS- For all those people who belive and respect and love and worship any of the godmen, i know you all must be very upset reading this( Like a 1000 people read my blog...hehe...i must b out of my mind). But this is my point of view, and i stand by that. No offence meant, and none gonna be taken.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1171732852490682892007-02-17T08:23:00.000-08:002007-02-20T11:20:24.142-08:00Vice men say.I dont like to boast about myself or my achievements. Mainly because my imagination in that scenario isnt great. I am an immature prick who doesnt have a clue what he is doing most of the time. But I must say that I am a vice guy. No, I did not mispell it. I am not that dumb. I am a vice guy in the sense that i have a lot of vices.<br /><br />Actually I didnt know about many of my vices until recently. Because, forget the usual vices, I discovered i have been indulging in a few sins without even knowing about it. And chances are most people are doing this. One of those carnal pleasures i am rightly accused of doing is eating tasty food.<br /><br />For my own sake of living well, I stay away from the healthy food and diets. I cant even imagine myself eating some brown bread and green salad with some sugarless juice for every meal on every day. In my office there are quite a few people who invariably nibble on colourful vegetables and boringly green leaves during lunch hours. People panicking when they realize their tea has sugar in it, almsot fainting when there is a slice of cheese in their sandwich and definitely fainting when some one offers them a fat-rich steak. Time Out !<br /><br />I can understand eating healthy(but never believe in it- am a heatlh food athiest), But this is ridiculous. Every other magazine and tv show, including the news hour, has something to say about healthy eating habits. I dont eat fast food every day , nor do i live on soft drinks, but i love to eat tasty food and am going to stick to it. All those people who eat tasteless nonsense , do yourself a 'flavour' and eat a hyderabadi dum biryani for lunch. You will see my point.<br /><br />If i thought the food thing is ridiculous, i was shocked by a newsbit last week. It said that a study on sleeping has proved that sleeping for more than 7 hours a day will cut down on my lifespan and hence is a very unhealthy habbit. What do i say. Beer , cigarettes , fast food and now sleeping. there was one thing i could do without getting worried about the after effects and that was sleeping long and well. not anymore because if i do, i am not going to live that long. This particular piece of useless information made me think about my vices and write about it. Am not exactly worried about my sleeping habbit though because whatever anyone says I am going to do it.<br /><br />But this is ridiculous. Chocolate is bad, beer is bad , meat is bad , sleeping is bad. Whats left? And there are tons of people who are ready to follow it relgiously. Reminds me of a saying," You may not live longer if you dont eat rich food , drink or smoke. But you will defenitely feel so". Life is for living. And there is only one chane. No point in wasting it on some stupid rules. So for me a vice guy is a wise guy. Lemme go eat a steak burger and sleep for 9 hours. PeaCe !manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1166801311961761812006-12-22T07:22:00.000-08:002006-12-31T14:17:07.243-08:00Blogger's BlockFinally, I am in the same league as Jeffrey Archer, John Grisham, and Robert Ludlum et al. Dang da dannngggg (<em>noun. - A sound effect expressing joy, surprise etc.)</em> I have writer’s block. Although I am honored to experience something those fine authors had, it’s a little frustrating. Mainly because I experience it more often than not. Unlike the other talented writers who get an inspiration even during a very ordinary avocation, I have to sit and think to find something to write about. And because I write (type actually) on my computer, I end up staring at the PC monitor and mouse until I get cranky and the PC shuts down itself because its bored. Not the greatest of feelings you know. <br /> There are 6 billion people in the world. And a similar number of people read my blogs. (That’s 6 including me) Sometimes I wonder why I bother to write if no one is bothering to read. Well I guess I am not writing for others. I am writing for myself. Other than the part that it helps pass my time, blogging is possible in the office while everyone will think I am working, and thus I can do something worthwhile. I have always enjoyed reading and thus developed an irrepressible urge to write. (I also get the urge to play soccer when I watch EPL, to be a DJ when I hit the club, and things like that, so its normal behavior for me.)<br /> So, I started writing. I began when I was 14 or something and had no idea what I was doing. After numerous stories even the 14 yr old me was convinced I am going nowhere. The language wasn’t good, the story was non existent and the characters were pathetic. I gave up. I started again 2-3 years after. My vocabulary was still incompetent. I still had no seeds of story inside me waiting to sprout to a frigging big novel tree. I solved this problem by using two books; an idioms and phrases handbook and a rather heavy dictionary. I weaved a story by simply adding hard to look at words and phrases and idioms with a few characters thrown in. somehow I managed to write a few pages of some sense. 3 days later I reviewed all that I wrote and I found myself looking in the dictionary at least 4 times for each line. And to think I wrote it a few hours earlier.<br /> The point is that, I am not a talented writer, nor am I an author of any sorts, but screw the world, I have writers block so big, its visible on my head. And that just makes me proud. And it makes me more proud that I overcame the block by writing about it. Geez am a genius. And thanks to all those people who still find time to read this and do it for the sake of friendship. thank you. I am glad to tell u that I am going to continue writing. As long as I can. Oh come on now PC don’t you shut down on me. Am done, am done, am done. I promise. CTRL + S.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1153571433494752282006-12-20T04:21:00.000-08:002006-12-22T07:31:51.086-08:00Born Again WorkaholicI see dead people. err.. I mean i see deadlines. Although with the accounts department that I am in, the earlier one applies too. I have always hated deadlines. The name itself is like a threat. So when my boss said that I have to finish the reports with in 2 days, I was, well, threatened...and pissed off.<br /><br />Working in accounts department is like playing with money. Minus the fun. I used to sit and work with the same enthusiasm i had when i was studying trigonometry. I still dont understand whats so fucking complicated about the triangle that you have to have so many equations and formulas. An equation for me is as simple as 1=1. Although in accounts this 1 could equal .5,1,2,3 or whatever u want it to be. Thats the fun of it, but only when u look from the outside. You can twist it around, tweak the numbers and make it so damn confusing that nobody will understand anything. Including the ones who made it. It can give anyone such a strong headache that any person with a sane mind will refuse to take a look at it again. But auditors are not sane people. And they demand an explanation to everything that is on the books including the page numbers and dead flies . They devour the account books like the highschoolers read debonair. And when they find something that doesnt tally, they will point it out to you with a "gotcha"smile, which hardly qualifies as a smile.<br /><br />So when the deadline was given, i thought its another random auditing coming up. But no. It wasnt about auditing. It was just about being up to date. My boss was suddenly aware of the possible positives of an update books of accounts like easy report generation, easy solutions and a few accountants in mental asylum.<br /><br />Now usually my deadlines moved so much that they didnt really look dead. But the instruction this time was clear. No extensions. No excuses. The reports where lagging by about a week. I checked again just to be sure, meanwhile hoping like anything that i read it wrong. Oh. I did. I was wrong. Its lagging by 9 days. Anybodys got a gun ?<br /><br />The accounts department has 4 people who love eachother like cats and dogs do. There was no personal hatred there. Just a proffessional one. Because a mistake made by one of them may cause the whole thing to go wrong. But in times of emergencies and clamities like a deadline, we join hands together. Everyday we throw all kinds of accusations at eachother, and occassionaly tea cups and paper weights. and very occassionaly we just throw eahother. But a common enemy has united us. We have to fight against death itself. I mean deadline. Ah, its all the same anyway.<br /><br />So we think up of a lot of plans ranging from resigning to taking the whole workforce at our office as hostages and demand that deadlines must be banned all over the world. Although the idea appealed to all of us , we were not sure to whom we should demand. Finally we gave up. This had to come. This is why we were hired.To work. And to keep books up to date is but a reasonable and fair demand (yea , i missed un twice...)<br /><br />So we took a decision.... to work our ass off. To meet the challenge instead of running away from it. To face it like a man.. and a woman(if i dont add that my colleague is going to sue me for sexual discrimination.) We decided to declare ourself bron again workaholics and finish the damn books. So deadline, u dont scare us anymore. We are staring down at you and laughing. The last laugh before we finish the work and kill you. Oh . But u are already dead.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1154427572188150422006-12-20T02:52:00.000-08:002006-12-22T07:31:49.576-08:00Question Marked ???In life we ask a lot of questions and get a few answers. Although i hated them during my 15 years of educational circus I ask a lot of questions too. What the fuck currently tops my list. It is a very powerful and versatile question with a lot of application in day to day life. My boss asks this question every time I submit my report. It can be rephrased to mean a whole range of things. like "What the fuck am I writing" to "what the fuck are you reading" The variety of online forums I visited had this wierd looking word WTF in almost every article. I had no idea what it was and I was like what the fuck. And then it struck me. Bingo. WTF means what the fuck. Talk about discoveries.<br /><br />But WTF is not the point here. Asking questions is the sign of an earn for learning. To learn new things, to make new discoveries and to irritate the hell out of people. The first one to put this idea into my head was my teacher in school Mr. Satheesh. Now he was a gem of a person. One of those rare personalities who can talk for an hour and say absolutely nothing. He used to preach about the importance of asking questions.<br /><br />Mr.Satheesh - So class. I am what I am today and in this poistion because I asked a lot of questions.<br />My idle brain - ( point to note down...never ask questions or you will end up like that)<br />Mr.Satheesh - If you pay attention and ask questions you will certainly succeed in life<br />My idle brain- (Contradicting Statements)<br />Mr.Satheesh - So start asking questions. who has a question here<br />Me Me Me - OK. So what the fuck are you talking about.<br /><br />I consider to be thrown out of the class as an honour. And from Mr.Satheesh's class its a privilege and gift.<br /><br />All through life we come accross a parade of questions. The thought provoking, "makes u feel ignorant", intelligent questions. And then there are the people asking the most stupid and silly questions. And when u dont know the answer follow the Dilbert principle and confuse them with a list of unanswerable questions ( If u want a list of unanswerable questions, my entrance question papers are still with me)<br /><br />All said and done, to ask a question is a basic right of every human being( this doesnt include asking girls for phone numbers and asking the Govt. for anything) When u have no idea whats going on dont just sit and wonder, ask around. you may feel dumb but i bet atleast half the people around you have no clue either. Nothing to lose and a whole lot to gain.<br /><br />now lemme go and ask my next question to boss. When do i get my next pay rise? I know the answer already.....What the fuck.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1160487520595254962006-12-10T04:51:00.000-08:002006-10-12T02:21:53.230-07:00The Weapon Of Mass Destruction and the counter measures.What is your greatest fear? Gunned down by a stranger rogue? Mobbed and robbed by a bunch of bandits on your way back home? Hit by a stray missile with a tactical nuclear warhead attached to it ? Or having to sit and watch Ekta kapoor’s KkKk serials. Nothing scares me more than the last one. But there is a far greater danger lurking around all of us waiting to pounce on us and kill us without a minute of thought. Why? Because it can’t think.<br /><br />Other than the natural causes like diseases and old ages and the natural disaster ones, what kills or injures more humans every year and nobody has ever thought of banning? Guns? No. Missiles? No. This weapon of mass destruction is something you and I hop into every day and go where we want to without the inconvenience of walking or if you are late, running. It’s technically called an automobile. In layman’s terms it’s called Maruti, Chevy, Tata, Benz etc etc.<br /><br />Have you ever thought that the car you drive around is virtually the biggest killer humans have ever invented? But unlike other inventions like Magnums or Kalashnikovs, automobiles were not intended to hurt people, let alone kill them. Oh well that’s why we call them accidents. Road accidents kill more humans every year than gun shots or cancers. But just like it’s said, cars don’t kill people. People kill people.<br /><br />Driving safely and carefully doesn’t take much of a hard work. Just keep in my mind a few things and you should be safe.<br /><br /><strong>Just keep your hands on the steering wheel</strong> instead of scratching yourself (or there wont be any yourself left to scratch) or serving yourself to a cup of tea, or on your girl friend/boy friend sitting next to you.<br /><br /><strong>Keep your focus on the road</strong> instead of the beautiful thing in the car on next lane, or the billboard with a beautiful thing on it or the magazine on your lap with a beautiful thing on it. Or.. ah you got the point. No beautiful things while driving.<br /><br /><strong>Keep your car on earthly speed limits.</strong> Stop imagining that you are Schumacher or Raikkonen. You are not 6 yrs old. So stop acting like one. Be responsible and drive inside speed limit.<br /><br /><strong>Stop swerving and swinging your car/motorcycle on road</strong>. According to The combined study on motor accidents by various automobile associations show that careless and reckless driving like that is the main cause of death among young drivers. And if that doesn’t scare you, you are not brave. You are just stupid.<br /><br /><strong>Keep your cool</strong>. Don’t get pissed off at the guy that just cut you off. What a waste of energy. Instead, laugh at his stupidity, relax and drive. And if you really want to do something about it, flip a finger.<br /><br /><strong>Stop honking, its not music</strong>. There are people who think that in a traffic jam, if they honk, somehow everything in front of them will magically disappear. Same with the tailgaters. Well if you really fancy the sound of a horn, spend a bit and get yourself a siren.<br /><br /><strong>Don’t drink and drive</strong>- If you can’t walk straight, or talk sense or stop laughing/crying which you are doing for no reason then you definitely can’t drive.<br /><br /><strong>No backseat driving</strong>. <strong>Please</strong>. Left hand drive or right hand drive, there is one simple rule all over the world. Only one driver in a vehicle. Distract the back seat driver who is distracting you by giving them something worthwhile and productive to do. Like ask them to sleep or just shut up. Threaten. If that doesn’t work just kick them out. Its better to be safe than having to hear their so sorry running commentary.<br /><br /><strong>Don’t rush, don’t hurry, if you still push you will be sorry</strong> ( I made that up. Really.)<br />The way people rush drive on the roads make one wonder if at one time all of them used to be ambulance drivers. Drive sensibly. Don’t listen to those mad men. The “End” is not near. You have a family to go back to. Think about them.<br /><br /><strong>Follow the rules</strong>.- I know rules are made to be broken, but when you break rules you might also break your bones.<br /><br />And finally look in the mirror. No, not in the rear view mirror while you are driving. Start with yourself if you want something to be changed. Wear your seatbelts, follow the rules, don’t forget your signals and drive with passion and compassion. Vrrooom !manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1157721062062286472006-09-08T06:08:00.000-07:002006-09-08T06:11:02.073-07:00Hate Triangle.A triangle is perhaps the unsexiest shape on earth explained by the simple fact that it doesn’t have even one curve. So unlike circles, triangles are rather unattractive. (I am tempted to go a little obscene here but I am checking myself.)<br /><br /> I have always found triangles boring just like the love triangles of our beloved bollywood. But I started hating them once I started learning about them in my school. Now basically I hated mathematics. Numbers and their calculations I could handle pretty well. But the umpteen numbers of strange and weird shapes and their properties I couldn’t. And the worst of them all was the triangle.<br /><br /> A triangle is a closed plane figure having three sides and three angles. That much is simple. But it’s a lot more complicated than that, because if everything in life was that simple then anti-stress therapies would have been unheard of.<br /><br /> Sine, Cosine, Tangent and Theta. And squares and square roots. And 100s of formulae based on these. And Mr.Sujith, my mathematics teacher. Aspirin anyone? Mr.Sujith had the unrivaled ability to draw triangles in air and mark them and do calculations. And he expected us to copy it down from air to our notebooks and solve the problems he drew up in air. So in effect he was the problem creator in my class room, not me and my friends as everyone used to think.<br /><br /> Trigonometry was the reason I failed a test for the first time in my life. I still don’t know how I made it through the finals. (The guy who was sitting next to me might have an idea). So while Mr.Sujith went on with the whole atmosphere as his canvas and a group of students who looked like they hadn’t slept in years as an audience, I spent my time thinking about some rather beautiful circles.<br /><br /> Sujith explained for a zillionth time that sin is the ordinate of the endpoint of an arc of a unit circle centered at the origin of a Cartesian coordinate system, the arc being of length x and measured counterclockwise from the point (1, 0) if x is positive or clockwise if x is negative (now u see why I hated trigonometry) while I was clapping and jumping and exclaiming to keep myself awake.<br /><br /> I hate trigonometry and thus almost all the triangles. Almost. I still don’t know any thing about it and am still living normally. Except for the nightmares about the traumatic trigonometry classes.. Oh how I love the circle.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1157738502188803252006-09-07T10:49:00.000-07:002006-09-08T11:01:44.616-07:00Dejavu.She reminds me so much of some one. Cant quiet place who. How do I explain how she looked. Its like she is carefree. But not in a fun way. More like she doesnt care at all. Sweeping footsteps. Untied hair. A loose fitting long black dress. And a teasing sadness on her face. She is not crying, but her eyes look like she might.<br /> <br />Have i seen her before? I dont think so. An unexplained dejavu. She is leaning onto her right, hand placed on her bulky brown leather bag. Her head is resting on her right palm. Her lips are curled into something like a smile, which is in dire contrast with the rest of her. No she isnt smiling.<br /><br />She looks sad. Gloomy is the right word. I heard a bored female voice announcing that I have to board my plane in 15 minutes. I looked at her with a half hope that she will get up and follow me into the aircraft and sit next to me. She doesnt move at all. Time for me to go. Goodbye beautiful stranger.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1154269175701489322006-07-30T04:12:00.000-07:002006-07-30T07:32:24.686-07:00Eating VicelyTo eat is perhaps the best thing we, humans are forced to do. And there is nothing like eating your favourite food and then sleeping for long to wake up and eat your favourite food again. SO what about the lousy diets and low fat- low calorie- no taste health food? Sorry, but I dont eat crap.This attittude has landed me in a little trouble. I am on the "heatlhier"side. In other words I am on the heavier side. But thats ok. There is always exercise. ( I am yet to try it but i am told it works.)<br />Eating healthy is now considered the wise option and eating junk food is a vice option. But I prefer the vice over the wise because I am wise enough to know that I am going to live only once. (Ok I have managed to rhyme...maybe ill make a rapper someday). The no cholestrol, no fat and taste like hell food is not of my taste. And not of the majority of populations taste. That gave birth to the Diets, Health clinics, Weight loss pills etc. If you are eating good and feel a little concerned about the health issue go and consult some weightloss specialists. They will help you feel miserable. All the custom made skinny models with an inhuman body structure smiles at you from the poster and asks you to feel useless.<br />Diet or "self imposed starvation" in laymans term is as enjoyable as a history lecture. And i prefer history lesson any day. I am not saying that anyone should just go around and eat every meal like its their last one ( though I do it and its perfectly ok) but why waste your tastebuds on leaves, stems, roots and the whole vegetation. But then again eating McDs, pizzas, tikkas and donuts alone will make you look like you just swallowed a baby elephant. So strike a balance. dont overdo anything, no supersizing yourself. Eat the tikkas n burbgers and biriyanis. But most importantly never let your tastebuds down. Bon Appettite.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1153985888171421632006-07-27T22:43:00.000-07:002006-07-27T00:43:58.556-07:00Man = WomanAll animals are equal. But some are more equal than others. Some one famous from some place had said the above statement once. (I dont remember who it was, so....) And I dont really know what it means. But it has something to do with equality and I coudnt find a better opening statement.<br />As for the equation in title, it is wrong. And u dont have to know mathematics for that. Because simply, men are not equal to women. If they were then they wouldnt be called men and women right?<br />Ok, I am talking a lot of crap here. But gender equality doesnt mean being equal. It means getting equal opportunity, equal rights and equal treatment.<br />So how equal are man and woman. The feminists always say that woman can do anything man can do and so this and that. Lets face the truth. Woman just cant do everything man can do. (like for eg say drink 5 cans of beer and talk about mean machines) And man cant do everything woman can do ( like spend hours inside a mall and remember the anniversaries and birthdays). Its not supposed to be that way either. Man and woman has different abilities and different limitiations.<br />But then, most of the things ,they both can do. And thats where the problem arises. I dont understand what some people have to lose if they admit that women are as smart as men? They put in the same effort in a much more adverse situation standing up against all those who try to drag them down and still at the end of the day get a lesser pay check. They work with the same loyalty and dedication but is by default not considered for promotion. The unfairy story ?<br />To be not treated equal is bad, but to be treated like dirt is something else. Ask a girl, any girl from any country how many times in their life have they been passed obscence comments at, how many times have they felt their space violated. And how many times have any man have had this problem.<br />The equality problem isnt just confined to the office. Its everywhere. When a man sleeps with a girl he somehow gets an image of a hero. And when a girl sleeps with a guy she is a slut. Didnt they both do the same thing ? I wonder why there is no male gender for the word slut.<br />Inequality is everywhere, at home, road, everywhere. When some are imposed, some are invited. And nothings gonna change until those who want it to be changed speak up. You will be pushed only as much as you let yourself be pushed.<br />Do i sound like a pro- feminist ? Sorry but am not. Feminism is as bad as male chauvinism. Men are not greater than women and woman are not greater than men. Why not forget about the genders when they doesnt matter (and start remebering them when it comes to love affairs and marriages). the only thing for men like me to do is to respect woman and get respected by them. For all the girls out there hold ur head up high and walk tall. PeaCe !manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1153832637829339922006-07-25T05:22:00.000-07:002006-07-25T06:03:57.933-07:00A hair raising experience.It is not easy. It takes months hard work and dedication. Face a lot of threats and protests. Ability to ignore those who laugh at you. Strength to smile back when some one looks at you like you are some wierd alien. It is a test of human endurance. I am talking about a guy growing long hair.<br /><br />why would a guy grow hair. For me the reason was simple. I always wanted long hair. maybe its because I am a metal head. There is nothing like head banging with long tresses. Not maybe. thats why i wanted it. But as i said it wasnt that easy.<br /><br />why would it be hard, someone may ask, to grow hair. You just dont have to cut it. well the someone is wrong. For me I had hair more curly than a spring coil. And when i tried growing it, instead of growing long and down it went up like a birds nest. So I had to straighten it, to complete the look. And there started my adventurous journey.<br /><br />As months passed my hair grew(obviously). And i was changing. I was looking completely different. Throw in a line beard along the way and i looked completely new. It was amazing what long hair can do to you.<br /><br />My friends whom i met after a long time didnt recognize me. When i patted my cousins hand when i met her after a long time she screamed out. My uncle and aunt refused to believe its me. I had to show them my driving license and electoral card to convince them. I was stopped by the immigration officials at the airport. The guy there simply woudnt believe I am the same guy as the one in passport. And i dont blame them. Because I had changed so much that somedays i woke up and went to the mirror and was like ..."Hey . Who are you? " ( I can really exaggerate sometimes)<br /><br />My mom had only one thing to tell her son. Cut Your Hair. To wake up everyday to the same sentence gets boring. But it did nothing to weaken me. She tried everything from pleading to shouting but i was no ears. Then came my relatives. Everyone was talking abt how decent i used to look. And how i have turned to be a villain. My aunt and mom said that I have to cut hair or face the consequences. Fine. that evening I went and pierced my ear. So much for the decent look.<br /><br />Outside my home wasnt that different either. everywhere i went I saw people making faces at me , passing comments at me laughing at me. Ask me if I care. But in a strange way I wasnt affected by this attention. In fact it felt cool. I was a rebel of some sorts. Kinda like I made my point and I didnt even have to say a word.<br /><br /><br />I have long hair and am proud of it. And if somebody has a problem with it, then, well its on my head, so stop whining.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1153828589269209342006-07-25T04:19:00.000-07:002006-07-26T00:44:38.426-07:00The Casualty of Society.Society is something which more or less shape our lifestyle. To live in harmony with society is one thing and to live scared of the society is something else. It is true that we have to follow certain guidelines if we are to live in a society. But there is a thin line between being in good terms and being ruled. To be a part of the society or to be a victim of it. And we refuse to be the casualty of society. We, ladies and gentlemen, are The Rebels.<br /><br /><br />Most people have at one point or another become a rebel against society. Mostly when they are young. But when we think again, we are the society. When it is somebody elses problem and somebody elses life the rebel becomes a part of the society. And it is high time we change this hypocrisy. For us, the young generation, and those who think young, we don’t care much about what people is going to think of us. we do not do any one harm but we do not want anybody to tell us what we should like and dislike. Don’t meddle in my affairs and I will not meddle in yours. Kind of a no give - no take relationship. By this I don’t mean that one should live exclusive of others. But why nose into others personal affairs uninvited especially when there are a lot of other social issues to be concerned with.<br /><br /><br />Its always a topic for debate. Why it matters to the rest if some girl in the hood is in love with some boy. It could be a concern for the girl’s safety. But more importantly it is a question of breaking taboos. And taboos make rebels. So what makes taboos?<br /><br />Falling in love is something special. Or so says the count less books, poems, novels, movies and songs. And so says those who have had a taste of it, good or bad. But our society, although inclusive of those aforementioned people and although have read and heard about love, still treat love in a bad light. ( I should say that I am not talking about the metropolitan and modern societies here) I don’t understand and don’t want to understand the reason why falling in love and marrying the lover is a taboo. Parents knows best, true. But when it comes to personal choices the person maybe knowing better. So leave it to them. To love or not, to marry or not and whom to love. Its such a personal affair. And if society has a problem with it then let them stick it up their **** because listen up … we are in love.<br /><br /><br />Why does anyone has to lose sleep over someone else’s love affair. A person should be measured by his qualities. Not by his cast, creed, religion and bank balance. And as long as two people love each other none of this should matter. What is going to happen if a Christian and Hindu marry. Yes there will be complications but the complications are creations of the society itself.<br /><br />Talking about sex is still a taboo. Its something that everyone does. And am not talking about the premarital or extra marital ones. We are not supporting it either. Sex in general is a no-no in public vocabulary. Why do they forget that the main reason why they are here is sex. It is an act of intimacy and it is sacred. And not talking about it only leads to ignorance about it. Which in turn causes divorces, sexually transmitted diseases, misunderstandings and worse like exploitation of children and woman. Even saying out words like condoms are greeted by contempt. We can talk about wars, diseases and crimes. We can talk about death and suffering. We can talk about alcohol and drugs. But not about sex. Because oh! it is a taboo. And all this happens in the country of Khajuraho and Kamasutra. Welcome to the society of fakers and hypocrites. And yes we will talk about it, because we have to. And those who flinch at the S word, well, you don’t exist for us.<br /><br /><br />We will dress the way we want. And if you don’t like it then live with it. My long hair is on my head, my slogan tees are on my chest. And if you don’t want to see it turn a blind eye as you do so well to the real issues.<br /><br /><br />Why does it bother the society if girls and boys are best of friends. How is it any different from a same gender friendship? Only the perverse minds have perverse thoughts. And i dont need to say who is the pervert here. Our friends are our friends and not a matter of concern to you, the society.<br /><br /><br />We will hang out till late, we will party. We will listen to rock music and dance to hip hop. And that has nothing to do with patriotism as you so wrongly accuse. We are patriots and we love our country. As long as we are not doing anything bad please keep off our planet. A few days ago i heard a quite famous man talking about the "polluted youth of today". Yes i agree there are vices around. Drugs, alchaholism and crime. But society is oblivious to all those things. If you think the youth in general is "polluted" then you are breathing the wrong air. And we are not asking you to stop us from the evil. But dont step on our space, restrict our freedom.<br /><br /><br />If it violates you when we use the F word among us then please dont try to over hear us. We will use the F word and if that is a problem for you then fuck it, we dont care. As long as we are not abusing you it shouldnt matter to you. And if you still want to advice us about the evil of it we will flip you the finger.<br /><br /><br />Dont misunderstand us. We are not against you. We are against your hypocrisy and phony morality. Against your prejudice and animosity to what we do. So we are not going to live by your rules. We are not going to give in. Let us eat what we want, wear what we want, do what we want. Let us love and talk about it. Its our life and we will live it our way. IF you criticize us we will ignore you. throw egss at us and we will make a toast out of it. And if you are turning deaf to our demands, it doesnt matter.. Because if you dont give a damn, then we dont give a fuck.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1153735515006615252006-07-24T02:05:00.000-07:002006-07-27T01:25:16.780-07:00The Trend Trauma.Everyday we wake up to a new trend, a new trauma. There is nothing wrong with the trends as long as you leave them alone. Yes i dress following the trends more or less. But I dont believe in dressing just according to the trends. I dont want to and wont wear a low waist and flash my jockey around like a trophy. So there.... the trends and the trendies.<br />Personally i hate following the trends like following hot girls. Its always better to follow the hot girls. Its ok to be trendy. Infact it is good...to a limit. Too much of anything is not good..except for beer. Welcome to the funny and amazingly stupid world of New Age Trends. Here is a list of those incredible Trends which will alter your lifestyle so much that you transform into a new species.<br /><br />1. <strong>The trend of self help books aka The books for the "I cant pee by myself" people trend. </strong><br />The self help books have always been there. But the popularity is so huge now that writing those have become a career option and soon will be a proffessional course. the first thing we as humans should understand is that the only thing that can really help is our own attittude. The self help book does help, but only the publishers. Go to a book store and you can find books with titles like "how to make yourself feel less pathetic"(ditch the book first), "how to pretend you are working and earn overtime"(i tried this..believe me it doesnt work.), and "how to make a woman sleep with you"(no comments). the funny part is that it sells. it sells so well that the church is afraid one day it might over take the bible. For those who are helped by the self helps.... my sympathies are with you.<br /><br /><strong>2. The trend of Diets aka The "starve and feel good" trend. </strong><br /><strong><br /></strong>The Fast foods and bottled drinks (not beer...beer is healthy) has given us a generation of overweight citizens. Which includes me. And to fight this, the trend gurus have come up with an amazing invention called diet. It works like this. You eat every meal like its your last one and refuse to exercise because you are a free citizen with the right to say no. You gain weight. Its ok till there. Suddenly you see the unbelievably thin things(research has been going on to verify if they are really humans) walking around happily. You see them everywhere, on tv, on papers, magazines, in dreams. And that makes you feel lousy. Dont worry, the dieticians are here. Introducing low carbs , sugar frees , zero fats, anti cholestrol etc. They give u a diet full of vegetables , leaves, stems and roots which makes you behave like a cow after a week. All that they give you to eat are tasteless or awfully bad tasting stuff which you find hard to eat so you dont. Then after 14 days or 30 days or 3 days (if you have made it) you have become slimmer. or atleast your dietician will make you believe so. So what ?? You have only one life. Eat wisely and eat well.<br /><br /><strong>3. The trend of weight losing clinics and programmes aka The "punish yourself for the sins" trend.</strong><br />This is just like the diets. the same procedure of eating too much and exercising too less. Overwieght ? No problem. here comes the weight lose clinics. and programmes. and specialists. and whatever. The trend gurus have found out that one quick and easy way to make rich people lose weight is to remove their purse/wallet. And with the ridiculously high fee for these programmes they have achieved that. Dont blame the gurus, they are just doing a selfless service...the money goes to charity(charity begins at home). After that they will torture you( those who joined deserves it anyway). The trainer asks you to sit with both you legs apart and with your hands on top of your head with your fingers touching your earlobes and then raising the left foot over your right foot and embracing them in a wierd manner and so on and so forth until you have tied yourself up. And then again after 15 or 30 or 20 or 6o days you are slimmer. And you have an amazingly shaped abs and neck pain and sore joints and broken bones. Atleast you have washed away your sins.<br /><br /><strong>4. The trend of low waists aka The "no waists" trends. </strong><br /><strong> </strong><br />Low waists are good. and stylish. I wear them myself. But many dont just wear low waists now. Its more like they dont wear anything on the waists. Guys walking around with their pant waists dangling over the knees and falling over. Girls who wear low waist jeans and skirts and spend half their life time checking and pulling them up. It has become a fashion to flash under wear. Infact underwear is flashed around so much that oxford has decided to change it to over wear in their dictionaries. There is nothing wrong with dressing stylish. But why dress like sluts and idiots. Dress decently. Nothing is more attractive than a neatly and nicely dressed woman/man.(PS- i agree that the no waists are sort of a perverse viewing pleasure, but i feel sorry for them at the same time)<br /><br />5. <strong>The trend of "life sciences" aka the "show me how to live coz i am too dumb"trend.</strong><br /><br />By life sciences i dont mean biology. Its too broing to be a trend. I am talking about the various techniques and methods packed neat and sold to people who until recently didnt know that they were not living properly. The Fengshui, with all the ridiculously costly curios which promise everything from money to better sex life. The vaastu shastra which has caused many a houses to be demolished and rebuilt in an ugly and useless way.Then there is the art of life which shows you how to breathe properly(wow. i never knew how to do that. Duh!) And a whole parade of yoga and martial art related circuses. I am not saying these are not good. And i dont know about the credibility of these techniques. But there are too many ignorant souls selling their version of these techniques and raking in big money. And the way people are following it makes me wonder if I am really living or just dreaming.<br /><br />6. <strong>The miscellaneous trends aka "Not popular enough to be mentioned seperately"trends.</strong><br /><br />Here we see the whole lot of trends that are catching up. The health drinks trend. Redbull, powerhorse, gold power et al. You feel dehydrated? tired ? try one of these. Or if you are really into risk taking try some water. Amazingly, it works. The protien food supplements trend. The party your ass off and make an ass out of yourself trend. The bust enhancement and penis enlargement trend. Although it is not yet highly popular, if this trend grows we will have people walking around with monstrous nether regions. The "I have the costliest mobile in town and i dont have a clue what it does"trend. The “I spent a fortune on this dress and it looks funny” trend. and so on and on and on.<br /><br />Trends will come and go as long as the mankind is alive and the MNCs exist. Going with the trend is alright, but dont make a fool out of yourself. Adios.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1153659837394945932006-07-23T04:23:00.000-07:002006-07-24T00:42:41.056-07:00The American clicheIts said that people should learn from their mistakes. And those who dont are idiots. And those who do but still ignore them are super idiots. I am talking about a god fearing, honest and able leader named Geroge W Bush. and i have my fingers crossed.<br />The reasons for the Iraq war and the Afghanistan war were many according to the American President. Weopons of mass destruction(read oil), lack of democracy(oil), lack of freedom (oil) Saddam Hussein(oil), Al Qayeda(oil), Bin Laden(oil). So for those who can read the truth between the lines the only reason is OIL. ahem. i know i know. that everybody knows.<br /><br />What I am talking about is not the war. Ill talk about that later someday. But I am talking about the new found hatred in USA. The French. For those who think geography is a waste of time, its a Western European country near Germany and Belgium. So whats with the French and the Americans and the Iraqis. Well its like a hate triangle with a lot of lost love between them.<br /><br />France and US are one of the 12 founding members of NATO. So when US decided to invade iraq MrBush and party took for granted that France will embrace them with support. Instead they embarassed the US calling its decision an act of artrocity. The French Foriegn minister, De Villeppin recieved a loud applause for his speech against the Invasion in the UN. Bush, the true and noble man he is, always hated loud applauses and louder truths. During the pre war stage in Iraq, almost all the european people, I repeat, people, were against it. The governmets were not. Except for the french and the Germans. And both didnt send any army to Iraq. now now. Thats a good enough reason for America to hate them. how dare they refuse to kill,rape and torture the Iraqis. What about the dangerous WMD. What about the dictator Saddam Hussein? Dont these people even have some humanity? Oh! for the love of mankind, kill a few thousand people and loot their lands.<br />The French-American relationsip has always been a love-hate one . More hate and less love. During the initial years of America, they loved the French. And with a reason. One of the main reasons why America exist today is because the french Military supported them against the Birtish forces in the war of independence. And they started building up the country with the huge funds supplied by the French Govt. Then came the World War-II and the Americans hated French because they felt the French were being ungrateful after the US helped in liberating France from the Nazis. This anti-french sentiment revived in the wake of the Iraq war.<br />France was not the only country who opposed the war. But they did so with ferocity and honesty. So there began the American media circus. The usual list of specialists explaining things everyone already knew. Debates and opinion polls, interviews and talk shows. The American media accused French of being scared, worthless, betrayers.<br />And then followed the really stupid expression of feelings. They took all the old blonde and redneck jokes, polished them, substituted "French" instead of redneck / blonde and revamped to suit the French connection. The French fries and French toast where renamed to freedom fries and freedom toast. That was an appropriate name the way they fried and toasted freedom in Iraq. Jaqueas chiraq became a cartoon character. Everything made in france suddenly was a bad taste.<br /> Now when the US Army are lost in the middle of nowhere, the NSA is even thinking of accusing some french hands in this, the voodoo et al. With all these hatred, lying presidents and dying soldiers the common American is lost. With 2 leadres named after human genitals ruling them, media telling confusing lies and world turning against them for their governemnts artrocities the Americans now live in a United State of Confusion.<br /><br /> Please somebody take the bush, dick and rice out of the white house and put some humans in there. PeaCe!manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31494092.post-1153641762151927202006-07-22T23:36:00.000-07:002006-07-23T23:41:54.746-07:00The Dreamers DiseaseYES. Ive been diagonised with the disease of the century(been that for the past few centuries) I have the dreamers disease. In laymans terms, I am a dreamer. I guess most of us are. What is life without a few thousand dreams. The day dreams and the night dreams. The realistic and the unrealisitc. The funny and the scary.No point running away. you were born wit the disease. and you will die with it. just to confuse everyone reading this am not making any distinction between the dreams. dreams are dreams afterall.<br />What if what we think is reality is actually a dream too. This bizzare brainstorm came from a former colleague of mine named Mr. J (His name is Jayaprakash Lalwani [house no 316, maidens lane], but I will use J to keep his identity secret. ) who was a hardcore dreamer. When Mr. J was interviewed for the post here, he was asked if he has dreams. He had said with all the genuiness that he does. The HR had no idea that he would take it literally and sit and dream the whole day. (And after 10 days when he asked about the appointment letter, he was told, "In your Dreams Mr.J.")<br />So now back to the disease issue. The first symptom i noticed was that I was loosing all kinds of connection with the world for short periods of time. I was suddenly in another world as another person. I DJed in the Hard Rock cafe while Tiesto and Paul Van Dyke were applauding at my sheer genius in turntabling. More than once, Berkgamp (or henry, pires, ljundberg etc) floated a cross to the near post where I latched on to it and held off two markers before i side-footed a shot past Kahn(or barthez or Van Der sar etc ) from close range. Goal!<br />I have done it all. From scoring the last run for India to seal a victoy against Pakistan to becoming the richest man on earth. From acting in the Godfather 4 to recieveing an Oscar for directing movies like "the eternal moonlight of the spotted mind". From sweeping the grammies to dating Salma Hayek and Alicia Silverstone on the same night. Been there, done that, in dreams.<br />All people have dreams. Dreams about jobs, money, fame, love, life. And the unrealistic dreams of a million more things. There is nothing crazy about it. Thats how we are. And then there are the dreams of our subconcious minds. The sleeping dreams. the nightmares. The wet dreams. I have dreamed of everything from making love to fighting a war(thanks to Tom Clancy for that ).<br />dreams are perhaps the cheapest sort of entertainment. one of those rare pleasure for which we dont have to pay ridiculous amounts of money called tax. its our own private secret world where everything is possible. keep dreaming and dream for the stars. (the small white sparkling things in sky...not salmha hayeks or jennifer anistons).<br />But one thing i have always wondered is how true the dreams are to reality. the dreams we see subconciosuly, are they an expression of the supressed feeling and desires ? I dont know if the dreams i see while i sleep are the hidden truths inside me. if it is so then there are lots of truths to take with me to the grave. lots.<br />We all have those crazy, nasty and sometimes dirty dreams we rather not talk about. Thats an evidence that you actuall belong to the species called homosapiens. If anyone feels guilty about it, well, dont. And for anyone with a social outlook belonging to the 17th century, telling you otherwise, well you always have the middle finger.<br />Now that I am completely taken over by the disease, there is no recovery. Actually, i am not even complaining. As for the cure for the disease, no thanks. Ill live with it. And as for the psuedo moral police telling me its a sin to dream the naughty dreams, here is my middle finger. its my life and ill dream whatever. And as for my boss asking me if I am day dreaming, well yes sir. Am dreaming about the day you will reach a much higher level (and leave our office for good). So dream on everyone. May all your dreams come true.manuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01708141700021983087noreply@blogger.com1