tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-219581152024-03-14T16:04:00.198+05:30Facts n FictionSomething about EverythingUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger150125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-60703149944326274422010-09-29T10:58:00.000+05:302013-03-27T12:10:15.274+05:30The Tormenting Tale of TimesJobs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Important: Please read my earlier post on <a href="http://amolsviews.blogspot.com/2010/07/crimes-of-india-timesjobscom.html" target="_blank">Timesjobs.com</a>. The reference to context will then be simpler.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My experience with Timesjobs.com has been vexatious. It has almost turned out to be like </span><strong style="font-family: inherit;">"The Exorcism of Emily Rose"</strong><span style="font-family: inherit;">. If Emily saw ghosts at 3am in the morning, I would often wake up with the nightmare of Timesjobs.com personnel (mostly a Sonia Oberoi or Rekha Singh) asking me if "I am in the right job" or someone else offering me a "Citibank Credit Card"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Yes, a credit card indeed. Timesjobs.com itself is out of job or providing jobs and hence has started selling credit cards - IRONY, I surmise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">All my attempts to "UNSUBSCRIBE" from their job alert and mailing services have failed, to the extent that I wrote to YAHOO to please have my email address either deleted or changed (I will post a screen-shot of a reply from YAHOO SECURITY TEAM in my next post).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">However, I still made a brave, despondent attempt to "UNSUBSCRIBE" from their mailing service. I certainly </span>didn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> need a credit card (it is against my morality to use one), and most certainly not a CITIBANK credit card.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I received an email from Timesjobs on 14th September about Citibank credit card. I have received such emails innumerable TIMES earlier. I do the mundane task of "UNSUBSCRIBING" every time, like I did one this time.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsdvSK_B2pr728bYp_JdF93pqF6LHIDWNjtxTaUsBPXFedB15jAK_j9758MM6LGyBfKvIe2UUOAlpNasRuw-zcEFLQXx4wfTflnR4t1B4JROPXJAC-XYPeqONp4Tarx0-lRQlm/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="250" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsdvSK_B2pr728bYp_JdF93pqF6LHIDWNjtxTaUsBPXFedB15jAK_j9758MM6LGyBfKvIe2UUOAlpNasRuw-zcEFLQXx4wfTflnR4t1B4JROPXJAC-XYPeqONp4Tarx0-lRQlm/s400/1.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I used their "most unefficient" option given in the email footer. I clicked the "UNSUBSCRIBE" link. It takes me to some page where I enter my email address, and click the submit option. I pray to the Vighnaharta to give me success this time, 'please absolve me from this great torturous vighna called Timesjobs'.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Next page tells me that my email will be removed within 24 hours. I give a sigh of relief assorted with a groan of suspicion. I go to sleep. The exorcism of Timesjobs.com still haunts me though.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3BC-d_hTFhp9I67n5nlKscN1cUsAXofwyOA9kK0T4Yjh9jgHnJd2TEMrUHD9HsJDAQfNU47LQsP6jU-Lw8Tyo0yClqrVDs99FYKu7uQsmsVA4HWw6LlKbLcOE9BxTTI4lKU7/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="250" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3BC-d_hTFhp9I67n5nlKscN1cUsAXofwyOA9kK0T4Yjh9jgHnJd2TEMrUHD9HsJDAQfNU47LQsP6jU-Lw8Tyo0yClqrVDs99FYKu7uQsmsVA4HWw6LlKbLcOE9BxTTI4lKU7/s400/2.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I thought Ganpati Bappa had listened to me this time. No mails from Timesjobs.com for a week. However, my alleviation was shortlived. I found an email from Timesjobs.com notoriously smiling at me. 24 hours had not transpired yet, even after 10 days i.e. 240 hours. There is something seriously wrong with Timesjobs.com. Or perchance I was obsessively sanguine about myself.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaKImw_i8GwsTeUqHDJy-kNeZKTbHvP14UUdC5Ma0xfXDMtfd3Dc-oC_stIQr88sMN5Ez10q3zIM7h04x-vTFRrrTgqXU4RBN7mWvFGjEmv-Z0A_aI6bpgMztQuleqZ-u0CUI-/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="250" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaKImw_i8GwsTeUqHDJy-kNeZKTbHvP14UUdC5Ma0xfXDMtfd3Dc-oC_stIQr88sMN5Ez10q3zIM7h04x-vTFRrrTgqXU4RBN7mWvFGjEmv-Z0A_aI6bpgMztQuleqZ-u0CUI-/s400/3.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I cannot fathom this "saga of negligience" and the "anecdote of affliction", literally. There is nothing or no one there at Timesjobs.com, I apprise; just these automated emails. All the back-office staff had possibly used Naukri or Monster to search for jobs elsewhere and abandon TIMESJOBS. I can understand their aggravation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">However, I still don't know the solution to all this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Perhaps, I should write back to the Yahoo Security team.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-70340070916004084582010-08-19T14:44:00.000+05:302013-03-27T12:11:17.579+05:30Marathi, Movies, Multiplexes, Et Al<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Raj’s recent advancement towards Marathi movies in multiplexes met with a speed breaker from Ashok Chavan, our white-collared CM, as usual. The pillage at the multiplexes is still beyond my comprehension and does not appear justified. Neither did Ashok Chavan’s justification about why not to screen Marathi movies in multiplexes at prime time made any sense to me. Chavan says Marathi manoos cannot afford the highly priced tickets of multiplexes, and that a single day expense at a multiplex is beyond Marathi viewer’s reach. This is a necessitous king's mentality.<br />
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That is not entirely true Mr. Chavan!<br />
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The same Marathi manoos has the capability to spend on the movie, and he does it on a SRK or Aamir or a Bachchan movie, we often observe.<br />
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Simply because, the Bollywood is more presentable and entertaining, which unfortunately is not the case with our Marathi movies. Also, Bollywood movies have a wider exposure, and high budgets for marketing & promotion. Most Marathi movies have to sadly rely on the grants that Government provides, which is a meager amount of Rs. 25 lacs. It would be better if the cultural affairs department of your ministry concentrates on strategies to improve the quality, (and quantity) of Marathi movies, instead of commenting on the financial capacity of Marathi manoos, making him look of a mediocre stature.<br />
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I would like to bring a similar opinion to the notice of Raj. Ransacking the multiplexes may not go well with the Marathi viewer, what he needs is not additional slots but quality movies which will be worth spending Rs. 150-200. Stir and agitate a campaign to urge the Marathi filmmakers to make better movies; once the quality improves, multiplexes will inevitably provide adequate slots.<br />
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In recent times, it is very rare that a movie like “Harishchandrachi Factory” or “Natrang” or “Jogwa” or “Gabhiricha Paus” is made. Mahesh Manjrekar’s “Shikshanachya Aaicha Gho”, though based on similar genres of “Taare Zameen Par” and “3 Idiots”, the latter were much better in conveying a message and presentation. Neither did “Shwaas” impress me, it was an over-hyped emotional melodrama; if “Maaherchi Saadi” was made today, probably it would have made to the Oscars too.<br />
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Most certainly, it seems unlikely that we will able to create the magic of V. Shantaram, Raja Paranjpe, Bhalji Pendharkar, Anant Mane (Tamasha based movie specialist), Raj Dutt, and so on. The breed degraded in quality ever since the advent of Dada Kondke, who spoiled film making and its entire sensitivity, and the offshoots like Ashok Saraf, Mahesh Kothare, Bharat Jadhav, Makarand Anaspure, Santosh Jadhav, etc still continue to haunt us.<br />
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While it is easy to blame Bollywood for the decline of Marathi theatre and cinema, our cultural ministry and film makers cannot have a free hand. There was a time when Bollywood gang was afraid of our Marathi theatre artists; Nilu Phule and Shreeram Lagoo, for example, were a tremor for Bachchans and Dilip Kumars. However, Bollywood overruled everything, manipulated and today you will see a Marathi artist as a “kaam wali bai” or “kachra wala” or “havaldaar”or a so called superstar of Marathi films as a Nokar of entrant Salman Khan. <br />
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Few Talpades, Kulkarnis, Dixits, Gowarikers do get lucky though.<br />
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So, my dear Honourable Ashok Chavan and Respected Raj Thackeray, let us turn our focus to a good cause to improve the quality of theatre and cinema, instead of justifying the means, which seep through a rational mind with great difficulty.<br />
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In all good hope of revival of Marathi cinema’s golden era.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-66956043111878902352010-08-10T23:52:00.007+05:302013-03-27T12:11:32.078+05:30Men of (Dis)Honour<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Kalmadi is all over the news channels and newspapers. I mostly had ignored the CWG scam news and everything else associated with it. I treated it as some rot that I did not want to waste much of my time on. Among many of the frauds and scams that the thick skinned politicians of our country keep executing, this was one of them. What drove me back to this news was Mr. Gill giving a clean chit to Kalmadi; maybe it was just a lame attempt to turn the focus from fraudulent practices to seeing the games being finally held.<br />
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I do not intend to justify or falsify any of the claims made by either sides of the government or the general public. I am, however, confused, as I have always been to understand the psyche behind people doing such frauds, scams, and adopting to ill means to achieve what they want. To put it simply, I always wanted to understand, “how much should be enough”; the greed keeps increasing ever after. Even in my wildest dreams, I can never think about what I would do with Rs. 200 crores of assets, if I could ever make that kind of wealth (I did dream about that once, accumulating 200 crores of assets was in itself a gigantic task, and it was morning by the time I could reach that mark. I assumed that I already had that asset base and dream again, yet I failed to conceive of anything to do with that kind of wealth). And here there are people who guzzle down 10 times or even 100 times of that money with so much each and pretense like chewing a paan.<br />
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What will happen to Kalmadi only time will tell; maybe he will be found guilty and tried under law; maybe he will die a tragic death; maybe he will contract some suffering, and so on. The end result of all such species has been the same; I can remember very rare ones (there could be many) who have escaped ill consequences of their wrongdoings. Not many were spared. I am not talking about the penalty that one will face on the judgement day or about fearing the God up above. Some morale or self respect, at least to make you bother about your transgression.<br />
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See the cases of Harshad Mehta, Ketan Parikh, Dinesh Dalmia, Telgi, and most recently Raju of Satyam. They all reaped what they sowed. They all were big and powerful, yet had to confront the results of their unlawful activities. It is very rare that one can outsmart the law.<br />
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And then looking at these big names, there are many small timers who follow the suit. They get blinded by the path of fictitious glory that they set their foot onto without giving any stirring thought to what could consequently happen – a miserable end result is inevitable.<br />
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Bribing, evading taxes, not following legal rules & procedures, overriding the law, taking officials & rules for granted are some acts that people with such mentality take pride in. Their belief that “I never got caught that time so I will never get caught” makes them commit a bigger and bolder offense the next, which subsequently starts resulting in fraudulent activity taken in small steps. This not only such people of inferior morale but also contaminates the surroundings where such people dwell, thus forming a strong substrate where corruption breeds. <em>“Arey usko paisa khila denge, aur kaam ho jayega”</em>, people often use such phrases as lightly and easily as saying “I love you”.<br />
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I fail to understand what people try to achieve doing such malpractices. <em>“If there is any query, paisa khila ke sort out kar denge yaar”</em>; why should there be time for such a situation to arise when there is a chance to play safe right from the start.<br />
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It is indeed small timers like these who successively gather might to keep on doing the wrong thing, manipulate data, bribe government officials, dupe the investors, and so on. And this sooner or later gives birth to Kalmadis, Parekhs, Kodas, Mehtas etc. For how long, though? You eventually will fall to the mercy of the law or to you self – a miserable end life. And even if none of this happens, in the end would you feel proud enough to look into the eyes of your loved ones and proudly proclaim your acts of dishonour.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-36922902760260291052010-07-12T14:48:00.001+05:302010-07-12T16:26:32.094+05:30The Crimes of India - TimesJobs.com<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 85%;"><br />
Dear TimesJobs,<br />
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I am tired of your pathetic service. Timesjobs.com is certainly not the best or No. 1 job service provider in the country, a thing that you shamelessly claim and aimlessly believe in. You do nothing but spam my email inbox.<br />
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Despite my continuous emails, calls, and using the “unsubscribe” facility on your portal, I still receive job alerts, none of which are useful to me.<br />
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Let me also inform you that your call center executives are absolute morons and dumb fellows who neither can understand anything said in English nor can comprehend what is being told to them in any other language.<br />
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<b>What surprises me?</b></span><br />
<ol><li><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">In spite of having unsubscribed, I still receive some idiotic job alerts. In that email I click on the “<b style="color: blue;">Unsubscribe</b>” link, and then the portal takes me to a page where it says “<b>your profile is incomplete; enter the following details to complete registration</b>”. Now when my profile is incomplete, how and why do I receive job alerts, which I certainly don’t require? Quite obviously, your “<b>unsubscribe</b>” facility does not work and there is some disastrous error on your portal. Your software programmers and developers probably have quit pitying the state which timesjobs is into or the so-called “country’s leading job service provider” hasn’t been able to get best job seekers to the great job.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">I have repeatedly sent several emails to “<b><span style="color: blue;">timesjobs@timesgroup.com</span></b>”, and most of them in <b style="color: red;">BIG BOLD RED COLOUR FONT</b>. Nothing helped though. I wonder if the emails at monitored at all or not.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">I speak to your customer care executives (the dumbest class I have ever come across in my life), who not only don’t understand what I say but also are unaware of what they are saying.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">My utter surprise was when I received an email from TimesJobs and it was trying to sell me Citibank credit cards. I was appalled so understand why a job service provider was selling credit card to me. Did TimesJobs assume that I have got a good job using their portal and that now I can start spending my salary on credit card bills?</span></li>
</ol><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 85%;"> <b>Agonising smartness of your customer care service</b><br />
I have spoken to your customer care executives on several occasions (one just a while ago, Mr. Sunil Kumar, who denied giving me any other identification reference, as if he thought he is Aamir Khan and anyone can easily identify him from the lot. I thought I have only 2 people to disgust in this world – Abhishek Bachchan, Uday Chopra. However, now there is one more – Mr. Sunil Kumar of TimesJobs). My only purpose to ask for his identification was that when I call next time (which I certainly will have to), I should be able to give a reference of my previous call with Mr. Sunil Kumar, and hence avoid narrating my case again. However, he denied.<br />
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Earlier when I had called, I was told that a request was sent to the concerned department and my id will be deleted from the mailing list within 24-48 hours. Ages have passed ever since, however, the 48 hours don’t seem to have elapsed. In despair, and irritated to still see a mail from TimesJobs in my inbox, I called up the customer care, only to encounter one more “<i>world’s-greatest-excuse-provider-cum-misleader-of-facts</i>”, Mr. Sunil Kumar. I reported the issue to him, something that I have done over dozen times now. I also iterated on the solutions that executives had given me earlier. After numerous emails and discussions with the customer care executives, TimesJobs still continues to send their rot to my inbox.<br />
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Mr. Sunil Kumar kept telling me that I can use the “unsubscribe” option on the portal or “give me your id and I will send a notification to concerned department to unsubscribe your id” or “you can email timesjobs@timesgroup.com and request to unsubscribe”. I almost had fainted in trying to convey that I have tried all of this and yet you guys spam my mailbox. Dumbass could hardly understand. I told him that from the time I had called last time, when a lady took my id and confirmed that my id will be disabled in 24-48 hours, till today 10 such 24-48 hours have passed. It has been more than 12 days, and my id is not disabled. What kind of confirmation was that? This dim-witted Sunil Kumar tries to convince me that it is not 24-48 hours but 24-48 business/working hours. Smart, isn’t it?</span><br />
<ol><li><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">Please give me your manager’s name and number.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">Give me a request/complaint number for this conversation, so that next time I can just give this number and take this case forward</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">Don’t you have records of my earlier calls? Refer those and see what I am talking about.</span></li>
</ol><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 85%;"> Sunil Kumar (SK) had only one answer to all of the above, “we don’t have that facility”. And then;<br />
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Me: So next time when I call, I will have narrate my pain all over again to some other executive?<br />
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SK: yes. Or if you don’t want to do that you can email timesjobs@timesgroup.com or use “unsubscribe” option on the portal<br />
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Me: Do you understand English?<br />
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SK: If you talk rude like this I will disconnect the call (dekho na mummy, ye uncle kaise baath kar rahe hai phone pe..uuuunnnnn)<br />
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Me: Simply because you haven’t understood a word about what I have been telling you. I told you I have tried all those options<br />
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SK: You will get a confirmation email in 24-48 hours<br />
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Me: I have already sent emails and spoken to lot of your executives but your 24-48 hours SLA is never met.<br />
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SK: You must be doing some mistake in typing the email address<br />
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Me: I have sent 15-20 emails till now, and you think I have made mistake in all emails that I have sent?<br />
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SK: correct email address is timesjobs@...<br />
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Me: Hero, I know what your email address is. You are talking to an IT professional with 10+ years of experience, and you think I cannot type an email address correctly?<br />
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SK: it will take 24-48 hours…<br />
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Me: F*** OFF<br />
</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-40432238819726604712010-07-07T13:17:00.001+05:302010-07-07T13:19:29.796+05:30Mind Over Matter, – Agneepath Remake<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">I am happy, terribly happy. Relieved actually!<br />
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I had been going through the sinusoids of fright, terror, disgust, and all such similar painful emotions ever since I had heard the rumour that “Abhishek Bachchan is going to play Vijay Dinanath Chauhan in a remake of Agneepath”. However, my heart beats got normal after KJo confirmed that Hrithik will play the lead instead.<br />
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I understand that <strong>Agneepath</strong> is not an <em>ancestral-dynastical-protégé</em>, wherein it gets handed over from Yash Johar to Karan Johar, and from Amitabh to Abhishek. None of them could or can do justice to such a kind of film, considering that it’s a direct lift from a masterpiece – <strong>Scarface</strong> (let Bollywood make one million remakes, but I doubt anyone can match the magic of <strong>Brian De Palma</strong> and <strong>Oliver Stone</strong>, or even <strong>Howard Hawks</strong> and <strong>Ben Hecht</strong> – original writers of the 1932 film of same name).<br />
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Yash Johar would have been insane to equate <strong>Vijay Dinanath Chauhan</strong> to <strong>Tony Montana</strong>. Amitabh did no wonders either; Rani Mukherjee would have been a better choice, if only the voice was to be praised. I doubt KJo too, whether he can handle such hard subjects; remember the mess he did with <strong>Kaal</strong> – a so-called thriller?<br />
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Abhishek??? Grrrrr! I hate writing about him; he would unnecessarily feel being important, even if ridiculed. See <strong>"Raavan"</strong>, see what a clutter he is in that movie. Raavan, because it’s recent, I can make you horrifically-nostalgic by taking you to the times of “Refugee” and “Bus Itna Sa Khwaab Hai”, and so on.<br />
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Amidst all this comedy of errors, KJo has finally applied some sense and chose Hrithik over Abhishek. However, so, nothing can match the heroics, machoism, and style of <strong>Al Pacino</strong>. Though Karan says that his Agneepath will be different from his dad’s version, I sincerely hope that he applies lot of mind to the matter of the original movie and try to match his version to <strong>Scarface</strong>.<br />
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I would love to remake <strong>Scarface</strong> (not <strong>Agneepath</strong>, mind you). If it had been then in 1990’s when Agneepath was made, I would have haunted <strong>Pavan Malhotra</strong> (watch <strong>Salim Langde Pe Math Ro</strong>) to play <strong>Tony Montana</strong>. If it had been today, I would be pulled in <strong>Neil Nitin Mukesh</strong> for that role.<br />
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If you still feel that <strong>Agneepath</strong> was a <em>“oh-ah-wow-great-awesome-sahi-sollit”</em> kind of classic movie in Bollywood, I request you to please watch <strong>Scarface</strong>, and watch it so many times that it finally brainwashes Angeepath out of your head.<br />
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In all good hope that Karan Johar will do some good work!</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-21406286790140507152010-07-01T15:05:00.000+05:302010-07-01T15:05:36.481+05:30Monalisa Deshpande<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">I have been smitten by literature bug lately. I have been searching and researching on Internet about authors of the 17th, 18th century. I had dug down deep into works of "Henrik Ibsen", "Friedrich Nietzsche", "George Eliot", "Daniel Defoe", "Voltaire", "Alexandre Dumas", etc.<br />
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While navigating in those times of history, I also came across one good creation, not in literature though, it was in art. However, there was something that made me pull that piece of art and put it up here on my blog.<br />
<br />
What I found? Ah! I thought her to be Leonardo's Monalisa but she turned out to be - "arey he tar Deshpandenchi Monalisa"</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitnZ20v4Br6PBLh7yNY_PNDOtR7yU82GIvwzx0dQ5__-xj4YekCZ70ocerSa3iw1lC8wKwqtS9NpNDr-TLiWJrXQjsghT6bCBy7DBMgSIatkHyZNiDtEiYhjrsr0ACpZOg6Ufs/s1600/Monalisa+Deshpande.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitnZ20v4Br6PBLh7yNY_PNDOtR7yU82GIvwzx0dQ5__-xj4YekCZ70ocerSa3iw1lC8wKwqtS9NpNDr-TLiWJrXQjsghT6bCBy7DBMgSIatkHyZNiDtEiYhjrsr0ACpZOg6Ufs/s320/Monalisa+Deshpande.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ain't she...?</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-2588544288688977372010-06-28T14:37:00.002+05:302010-06-28T15:39:52.859+05:30Stock Trading Tips<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 85%;">No! I am not going to offer any strategies on how to trade in stocks or options, or to reap heavy profits in the stock markets. Simply because I don’t believe in any such strategies. Those candlestick charts could never illuminate my portfolio, and all hammer & inverted hammer candlesticks have hammered me down enough.<br />
<br />
I don’t even pay attention to the stock analysts, who blabber something about technical and fundamental analysis – there is no such thing called as technical or fundamental analysis, it is pure simple gamble or luck or destiny whatever you want to call it; if it is your day you will make it, else best of luck – keep trying.<br />
<br />
I have been attached to stock markets (emotionally) since last 10 years, trying to understand the dynamics of it, but the bloody selfish stock market has kept me (financially) detached from it. I had opened my first Demat and Online Trading Account with ICICI Direct – just because I had liked the application interface, and also the fantasies that all my earnings could immediately get transferred to my ICICI Bank Savings Account. This good ol’ ICICI Direct use to send me mailers about where & when to invest, what strategy to follow etc – I obeyed nothing. However, now I am tired, irritated, and annoyed too. <br />
<br />
The mailers were okay to handle, at least I could select the entire list in the mailbox and delete it right away. I-Direct started giving me calls recently; I used to attend a few initially. A lady with polished Rani Mukherjee-like-voice on the IVR talks some nonsense about the way to trade on the particular day. <em>“Markets likely to open low on weak global cues”</em> or sometimes it <em>“Markets likely to open high on strong global cues”</em>. O my dear young lady, I have followed this trick ever since I started learning the spellings of <em>“stocks”, “markets”, “scrips”, “Reliance”, “Jhunjhunwala”</em>, and so on. And then she continues to say something about going <em>LONG</em> on something and/or going <em>SHORT</em> on something and/or combining some <em>LONGS</em> and <em>SHORTS</em> – none of which makes any sense to me. I told you, all this doesn’t go into my head. It is like <em>“OCEAN’S ONE”</em> for me, it is big gamble pool – go get it; loot it I mean. The lady’s perseverance could have made me inclined into studying some terms so that I could relate to her talks. However, it only disgusted me more and more, day-by-day.<br />
<br />
This hopefully pretty lady muse of ICICI Direct used to call at 9.25am, when all the Bengali and Gujarati punters could have possibly had major chunk of the pie.<br />
<br />
I prayed often, <em>“Hey SEBI Deva, please inform your humble disciple, ICICI Direct, that now markets open at 9.00am and not 9.55am. What is the use of telling me how the markets will open when the markets have already opened?”</em><br />
<br />
My prayers went unanswered, as they always do. I still receive those calls from ICICI Direct. I have tried everything possible to discontinue that service but in vain.<br />
<br />
My disgust has touched such a new 52-week high that every morning the call comes, I just say, <em>“yanchya <b>Aai Chi Aai Chi Aai Direct</b> jaun kuthe tari ghatli pahije”</em></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-4364534417938391812010-06-24T14:07:00.006+05:302010-06-24T14:17:12.317+05:30Self Help & All That<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><span style="color: red;">(Alert – this article contains contentious viewpoints with some harsh language; if this does not suit your taste, please refrain from reading further)</span></em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 85%;">Recently, I received an email from a friend about some interesting article to read. However, it turned out to be a boring stuff. I hate reading self-help and motivational kind of pieces; everything that preaches – “think positive”, “say I am the best”, “how to vent anger”, “how to achieve your goals”, and so on in an over obsessed manner. I have never been able to understand the need and important of such self-help kind of writings.<br />
<br />
The first form self-help or motivational writing that I read was “Who moved my cheese”. I read it as a story (like I read Coelho’s Alchemist) and it made no impact on my behaviour or thinking pattern. However, my disgust for writings of this genre began with Shiv Khera’s “You can win” and it continues till today for his “You can sell”.<br />
<br />
Such books and writings claim to improve confidence, boost moral, change attitude towards life, and so on – all of which seem to be of utter nuisance to me. I believe, you cannot solve my problems unless you consider my problems as your problems. And this never happens. The so-called self-help gurus keep farting hollow clouds of gyan only to contaminate and confuse the poor reader. (A psychological study reveals that such kind of gyan usually has reverse effect on the person, towards negative side).<br />
<br />
I had heard a lot about the book <strong>“Secret”</strong>. I bought a copy to see what it is all about. Crap – was all it was. It cites some examples about some men and women (who knows whether those personalities existed or not), and how they achieved what they wanted in life. I can summarise the entire book (and its various versions) into one simple word – <strong>“TENACITY”</strong>, which means persistent determination. Now that does not need a huge rocket science, be focused, work hard, and you will get it – just the way Einstein, Tendulkar, or even Abhijit Sawant did. I am sure none of them required any self-help book. I also do know some one who with just a degree in commerce is flying high with fleet of cars and row of houses – he certainly hasn’t read any such books.<br />
<br />
Talk to a friend or listen to music when you are low, keep your desk clean so that you feel energetic while working, space out activities of your day, play some sport so that you remain fit and fresh – all these things are of common sense, I guess.<br />
<br />
I dread Amway guys and those in similar clan of MLM who shove down such motivational books into other’s and think great of have achieved something. On the contrary, the reader then starts feeling inferior and works based on fear and not on inspiration.<br />
<br />
These books somehow fail to preach that <strong>“Success is 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration”</strong>. What is use of just getting inspired by reading stories of other people – case studies used in such books? And then, there are contradictions too. Some books say follow success; grab it, it is yours; it is the most important thing. Few other books say that your goals are not everything in life, reminding you that it is not the only important thing in life – what the ****<br />
<br />
Most often, the self-help techniques are misleading; it is like giving you a capsule on tooth ache when you actually have neck pain. Following such books is like practicing ignorance of your real-time decrepit condition; this is something illusionary and could be disastrous. Also, these self-help books and case studies therein, are utterly time wasting techniques, making you feel more fatigued.<br />
<br />
The experts put lot of conditions, if this – then that; if success or comfort for you has to be conditional, how about you setting up some conditions for yourself. I learnt in school, “God helps them, those who help themselves” – a condition again – if I help myself only then will God help me. So from God to a human expert, all are conditional; then the best person that remains to help you is <strong>YOU</strong> yourself.<br />
<br />
Running after such self-help books, articles, and techniques may not make you successful or rich. However, it will certainly make those fallacious experts wealthier. You will keep buying books, CDs. DVDs, attending seminars and increasing the net worth of those self-help gurus, thus fuelling the billion dollar self-help industry.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-63480052958474109422010-05-13T17:50:00.004+05:302010-06-22T16:28:43.743+05:30A Day of Laughter<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;">I watched “Housefull” movie yesterday, yes, I did gather the guts to do so. I had nothing else to do either. I did not complete it though. It was such a big disappointment, not a surprise, however, what else can you expect from pervert filmmaker (I won’t be surprised if the next movie he makes will be called “Heyy Booby”). The only relief was that there was no Akshay-licking-dirty-diaper stuff and that I did not pay for the movie. The movie hardly made me smile; I was full of “uhhhh”, “errrgghh”, “shucks-yucks” like expressions. They all, Akshay, Ritiesh, Randheer Kapoor, Chunkey Pandey, Boman, and the “oomph-babes”, tried to make me laugh – all of them miserably failed though.<br />
<br />
Worried, I thought, have I forgotten to laugh and smile? Is the stressful corporate life taking a toll on me?<br />
<br />
However, there is something or the other since today morning that has constantly kept my funny bones tickling.<br />
<br />
It all started with the early morning news – India’s cricketing Eves outsmart the men. I just couldn’t help laughing at Dhoni and boys, I smacked a shameless laugh. I hate cricket, ever since the whites changed to blue, green, grey, red, and so on, and the balls (the one used to play on the field) changed to white. [Do I love cricket, anytime? Umm, yes, only when Tendulkar bats and/or Akram bowls]. Some reasons I kept laughing:<br />
<ul><li>Dhoni boys out of the WC-T20, women are in the semis</li>
<li>Dhoni shamelessly says he does not know the reasons for this failure; he was just hopelessly smiling at the cameras</li>
<li>The women proudly say its dedication, sincerity, and focus on the game</li>
<li>Dhoni later says IPL parties are reason for their loss at WC – ROFL :-D. If cricket, and not crores would have been your focus, you wouldn’t have come up with this excuse</li>
<li>And then there was media, blasting away the team – <em>“dekhiye ye sharmnaak hasi”, “aakhir nari shakti ne wo kar dikhaya jo mard nahi kar sake”</em>, and so on</li>
</ul>So much of commercialization in cricket annoys me. Look at any newspaper, 2 out of 3 pages will be dedicated to cricket and one page for rest of the sports. Take a look at www.ibnlive.com, one column especially for cricket and one column for sports where all other games are accommodated. Cricket ain’t a sport? Aww…how foolish of me. <em>“It’s a religion, not a sport”</em>, I laughed at myself, sarcastically.<br />
<br />
I then saw some speaker started crying when MLAs taunted some woman – naari shakti once again. Men don’t cry, but they do when it is political and some foolish stuff.<br />
<br />
Obama said that cancer like terrorism is a threat to Pakistan, not India. Dude, we know that, tell me something new. Your statements like these time and again, are now more often viewed as jokes, get serious in life man, stand up and act.<br />
<br />
It seems that Maharashtra state wants all its ministers to talk in Marathi to all foreigners. This will foster cultural growth, is the justification. Weird logic. Nonetheless it kept my laughing riot in full pace, <em>“yaa ingrazanno…aata tumchi **** ahey”</em><br />
<br />
Some lady has filed a case against Prakash Jha’s Rajneeti on an alleged reason that image of Sonia Gandhi has been tarnished in the movie. Rationalization: Katrina Kaif, supposedly portraying Sonia Gandhi, has been shown in some intimate scenes with Ranbir Kapoor. Now if the lady so strongly feels that Katrina plays Sonia, then it is logical to show what Sonia could have done. Wouldn’t have Sonia ever got intimate with Rajiv? How, otherwise, can she substantiate the existence of Rahul Baba :-D<br />
<br />
Just loved the laughter rides, I had throughout, though meaningless and insane, but they made my day. Finally, Prakash Jha replies, “it's a fictional story and bears no resemblance to any person living or dead”…hahaha<br />
<br />
And the rollercoaster ride ends with a dialogue between me and Tushar (on chat), which again burst out clouds of laughter, though it was a paanchat PJ.<br />
<br />
Tushar: Bola Pant (पंत - the Peshwa style of addressing the respected people)<br />
Me: Kahi nahi shirt<br />
Tushar: hahaha<br />
Me: hahaha<br />
Tushar: :-D<br />
Me: :-D<br />
Tushar: :-D<br />
Me: :-D<br />
Tushar: hahaha<br />
Me: hahaha<br />
Tushar: :-D<br />
Me: :-D<br />
Tushar: hahaha<br />
Me: hahaha<br />
<br />
And blissfully we laughed ever after.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-86288530236334144972010-04-07T10:54:00.002+05:302010-06-22T16:30:58.333+05:30Ek Saaf Suthri Shayari ;-)<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;"><br />
Mangta hoon to deti nahi<br />
Jawaab meri baat ka<br />
Deti hai to khada ho jaata hai<br />
Roum roum jazzbaat ka<br />
<br />
Wo kehti hai dheere daalo<br />
Baalon mein phool gulaab ka<br />
Daalte hi fisal jaata hai<br />
Haathon se phool gulaab ka<br />
<br />
Abhi to uski khuli na thi<br />
Zubaan ikraar ke liye<br />
Lo mere khada ho gaya<br />
Haath namashkaar ke liye<br />
</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-51508165985231060312010-03-23T14:57:00.006+05:302010-04-12T10:08:45.989+05:30Girangaon Naakaa<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-ZbVaIBoVTQkJBE4XO_wSfoRZzaigFve17hiEaccIZUu5YAnoNnXBFawpr9OmhquVz-AARt_-DYNOp5ZqM-ZEHounyiTkQdtanMXbqnuJZ8X8Stc9sh6pZebyBZvpsKmp9PB/s1600/Girangaon+Naakaa+-+Cover+Page.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-ZbVaIBoVTQkJBE4XO_wSfoRZzaigFve17hiEaccIZUu5YAnoNnXBFawpr9OmhquVz-AARt_-DYNOp5ZqM-ZEHounyiTkQdtanMXbqnuJZ8X8Stc9sh6pZebyBZvpsKmp9PB/s320/Girangaon+Naakaa+-+Cover+Page.jpg" wt="true" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Almost a fortnight ago when I saw a half page newspaper ad about <strong><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mahesh_Manjrekar" target="_blank">Mahesh Manjrekar’s</a></strong> new movie, <strong><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/City_of_Gold_(2010_film)" target="_blank">“Laalbaug Parel”</a></strong>. Though I am not a big fan of Manjrekar’s movies (except Vaastav), I am somehow waiting for this movie eagerly, only for the reason that I find myself close to Laalbaug, Parel, and the textile mills kingdom. I spent my early childhood in Parel and my father was employed in a textile mill for over 15 years – thus the enthusiasm. While I was sweetly hallucinating in that zeal, I came across a very good Marathi novel – <strong>“Girangaon Naakaa”</strong>, based on a similar theme, may be. <strong><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Girangaon" target="_blank">‘Girangaon’</a></strong> seems to be the flavour of creativity these days.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I completed reading the novel yesterday. Yes, I do read Marathi, though I take a little longer time to read it. I had been used Marathi books since childhood. However, only to the interest of the famous <strong>‘Diwali Annk’</strong> then, only till the cover page; the lady never let me peep into the inside pages. To my utter surprise, I haven’t been able to figure out how I used to win the Marathi essay writing competition in my school, for four consecutive years, that too a first prize.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My serious reading with Marathi, apart from the academic books, began with <strong>"Parel 68"</strong> by Divakar Kambli. And that precisely is the reason I picked up his latest novel, “Girangaon Naakaa” to read. My fascination for Marathi (in terms of creative field and certainly not for fear of Raj Thackeray) can surely be attributed to Mr. Kambli, and lately to <strong>“Sa Re Ga Ma Pa – Little Champs”</strong> & <strong>“Sandip Khare”</strong>.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>“Girangaon Naakaa”</strong> is Divakar Kambli's third fiction novel that sumptuously illustrates conditions of once flourishing textile mill reign in southern suburbs of Mumbai. Though this book is published precisely at a time when Mahesh Manjrekar’s “Laalbaug Parel” is about to release, which may sweep off all the limelight, <strong>“Girangaon Naakaa”</strong> can certainly not be overshadowed.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Set in the period of seventies, much before the hitherto going on strike that devastated lives of the mill workers, <strong>“Girangaon Naakaa”</strong> is a narrative about poor yet varied cultural life that was not disturbed till then. There have been many attempts on documenting the supremacy & decline of textile mills, and about the lives of people that were woven together closely. However, <strong>“Girangaon Naakaa”</strong> is a different treat, for the way Divakar Kambli handles it with his peculiar style of story telling. Kambli’s expertise in handling stories with backdrop of Parel and portraying anguish of a common-boy-next-door character can be compared to the likes of artistic brush strokes of <strong><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salvador_Dali" target="_blank">Salvador Dali</a></strong>. Rustic writings that hit the reader point blank has been his forte'.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>“Girangaon Naakaa”</strong> traverses through pockets of central Mumbai comprising Byculla, Kalachowki, Chinchpokli, Lalbaug, Parel, Dadar, Shivaji Park and Mahim, all of which together mingle to form a single cotton ball called <strong>‘Girangaon’</strong> – the land of cotton mills. As such, there is no Girangaon in Mumbai, unlike Girgaon, Paralgaon, Mazgaon or Worligaon. It does not have postal pin code either. It was a culture that the selfish builders of high rise towers crushed ruthlessly. The story exactly takes place in this area. </span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The storyline is that of a common working under-graduate boy who deserves more than what he could get. He lives as a paying guest and has a good job where he is happy. However, he gives up his job on a small pretext and decides to be a hawker, selling shoes on a footpath. His tryst with life makes him across two girls and middle aged women of an impotent man who incidentally is his boss, a good man. In this small span of his living he navigates through a happy state of having a separate bedroom in a plush flat in Mahim to the foot-path in Lalbaug. And finally, in the house of the middle aged woman, minus the initial sexual feelings. The Oedipus effect reversed!</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The life of mill worker families, their humane approach towards life, helping nature, their tasty foods, cleanliness, their basic interest in dramatics, small rock groups in this land, Simla beat contest; rock concert based on <strong>Woodstock</strong> held in 1974, rock singer <strong>Nandu Bhende</strong>, anchor <strong>Kabir Bedi</strong>, intelligent director <strong>Arun Hornekar</strong> of Marathi version of Becket surface magnificently in the narratives.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The story has its own pace and the author makes cryptic comments about the life styles of the clusters of the lower wage working classes that do not have roof over their head, emotional outbursts of the working class, and hawkers on the street.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The then class difference in a well to do area like Shivaji Park in central Mumbai and a couple of kilometers away mill area of Lalbaug is vivid. The three leading ladies come from a middle class family. The central character too is cultured. However, the backdrop is a gloomy mill area. It grips the reader with hands invisible. The day-by-day richer getting mill owners, and the exploited workers getting destroyed in the process, is one of conformist thoughts frantically expressed by the author.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Today, it has come out as a 100 percent truth. The spotless foot path where the characters in this novel slept is nothing but the foot path of the 7 star ITC Grand Hotel in Lalbaug! Obviously, novelist Divakar Kambli is influenced by existentialist French novelist like <strong><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert_Camus" target="_blank">Albert Camus</a></strong> and <strong><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhau_Padhye" target="_blank">Bhau Padhye</a></strong> in Marathi. The <strong><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franz_Kafka" target="_blank">Franz Kafka</a></strong> of Marathi literature and recipient of Sahitya Academy Award, <strong>Vasant Abaji Dahaake</strong> has literally placed Divakar Kambli in stratum of <strong><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kiran_Nagarkar" target="_blank">Kiran Nagarkar</a></strong> and <strong>Bhau Padhye</strong>.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I recommend give this novel a serious read, it will certainly be an ecstasy for you.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>[Pages: 167, Cost: Rs. 165, Language: Marathi]</strong></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-50657864787792163482010-03-23T14:21:00.004+05:302010-03-23T14:30:32.880+05:30Welcome IPL Pune<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Well certainly indeed! This is for Pune IPL team.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-x-CsYu1PHUHp71xR9xfdYNaG0MrkOsNl4dhSD_M-n4zxHQbRzGXppB6qCHUIp4CsxOulEAiWjZmwyBf_uT-U0y-Ba_ItloLuurr6iFwuIK_RFbdwEllDHpaO-53ALvgNMGz/s1600-h/IPL+Pune+Team.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-x-CsYu1PHUHp71xR9xfdYNaG0MrkOsNl4dhSD_M-n4zxHQbRzGXppB6qCHUIp4CsxOulEAiWjZmwyBf_uT-U0y-Ba_ItloLuurr6iFwuIK_RFbdwEllDHpaO-53ALvgNMGz/s400/IPL+Pune+Team.bmp" vt="true" width="400" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-33170426914831543902010-03-15T13:58:00.001+05:302010-03-15T14:00:38.094+05:30I din't Drink & Drive...<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I went to a party Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I remembered what you said. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>You told me not to drink, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>So I drank soda instead. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I really felt proud inside, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>The way you said I would. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I didn't drink and drive, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Even though the others said I should. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I know I did the right thing, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I know you are always right. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Now the party is finally ending, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>As everyone is driving out of sight. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>As I got into my car, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I knew I'd get home in one piece. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Because of the way you raised me, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>So responsible and sweet. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I started to drive away, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>But as I pulled out into the road, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>The other car didn't see me, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>And hit me like a load. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>As I lay there on the pavement, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I hear the policeman say, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>"The other guy is drunk," Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>And now I'm the one who will pay. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I'm lying here dying, Mom.... </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I wish you'd get here soon. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>How could this happen to me, Mom? </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>My life just burst like a balloon. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>There is blood all around me, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>And most of it is mine. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I hear the medic say, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I'll die in a short time. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I just wanted to tell you, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I swear I didn't drink. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>It was the others, Mom.. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>The others didn't think. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>He was probably</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>At the same party as I. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>The only difference is, he drank </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>And I will die.</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Why do people drink, Mom? </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>It can ruin your whole life. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I'm feeling sharp pains now. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Pains just like a knife. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>The guy who hit me is walking, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>And I don't think it's fair. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I'm lying here dying </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>And all he can do is stare. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Tell my brother not to cry, Mom. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Tell Daddy to be brave. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>And when I go to heaven, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Put "GOOD BOY " on my grave. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Someone should have told him, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Not to drink and drive. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>If only they had told him, Mom, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I would still be alive. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>My breath is getting shorter, Mom. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I'm becoming very scared. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Please don't cry for me, Mom. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>When I needed you, you were always there. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I have one last question, Mom. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Before I say good bye. </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I didn't drink and drive, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>So why am I the one to die?</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>---------------------------------------------------------</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>Courtesy: Email forward. This is not my original creation.</em></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-5875260650257453802010-02-25T13:23:00.002+05:302010-02-25T13:29:41.167+05:30SACH is LIFE!<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I had never watched the game of cricket so keenly, ever since it became a business more than a game. I don’t watch it as devotedly, today as well. However, there is one man who can change all the rules – of the game, of the fan following, and for me too. I love watching the game only when he is at the crease. Though I show lot of disinterest in his game to tease my sisters and my friend Nikhil when he plays, I have gathered tremendous interest and respect for him – <b>SACHIN TENDULKAR</b>, the only one after Wasim Akram. </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6vqZScvxYfwnDDmVuQ_qnEOX3fkjXhjPem_L2TVP4YhO9A3-oos38DXsRAw75C_KOd-lFAVhbSu-vOt9uzVcbMdPWZdwbYUEA8OEY3c3XWThAw5ENE6vPCsbrptYkqycVIp9a/s1600-h/SACH+IS+LIFE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6vqZScvxYfwnDDmVuQ_qnEOX3fkjXhjPem_L2TVP4YhO9A3-oos38DXsRAw75C_KOd-lFAVhbSu-vOt9uzVcbMdPWZdwbYUEA8OEY3c3XWThAw5ENE6vPCsbrptYkqycVIp9a/s640/SACH+IS+LIFE.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: small;">I never thought I would write on a topic of cricket, however, this legend has compelled me to do so.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">20 years of cricket, bags full of runs, every record tagged to his name, limitless prosperity, infinite respect, free from controversies, and rewriting history of surprises – this legend, Tendulkar, yet remains a humble and modest cricketer. I would appear like a dwarf to write about his cricketing genius or his finesse with the willow. What I do know is it is sheer excitement to watch Sachin do magical wonders with his willow. He is an in-depth user manual for cricketing aspirants.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I was all choked up seeing him take that 200th run, indeed for establishing a new mark in the history of cricket. Few players had reached close to that “200” mark, however, had to retreat falling embarrassingly short of that score. And thus, I was convinced that cricket has written a fate for itself, that if anyone has to reach that mark, it would be none other than the God of cricket himself – Sachin Tendulkar. Yes, I know I am getting emotional. My eyes glittered with <i>khushi ke aasoon</i> yesterday seeing him achieve that milestone. I am falling short of adjectives for this <b>“LITTLE MASTER BLASTER”</b>. <i>I salute thee – thou God of cricket</i>, emotional again! Many say that Sachin was born only for cricket. I now believe, however, that cricket was born only for Sachin.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sachin has portrayed excellent qualities of being a loyal performer and those contribute to the echelon he is at today. He always wanted to just play cricket, follow his ardor, and keep competing with the self; beyond all pressures, agonies, and controversies that uselessly were blasted at him.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">He dedicated his 200 to the country and that elevates his humane nature, erasing all lines of regional divide. His play knits people together – t<i>he Kulkarnis, the Joshis, the Singhs, the Tiwaris, the Khans, the Mukherjees, the Shaikhs, the Josephs, the Nairs, the D’Souzas</i>, and so on – let <i>the Thackarays</i> keep blabbering what they want. My FB status received a “thumbs-up” comment from my Canadian friend; probably, even she loves to see Sachin achieving such milestones. Sachin is loved across boundaries, both domestic as well as international.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Passion, practice, performance, patience – principles that Sachin pledges by, in my opinion. Complete faith, dedication, sincerity, and hard work to follow your passion, and that’s how you conquer success – SACH is LIFE!</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-38810183483057336362010-02-10T12:10:00.002+05:302010-02-10T12:12:20.026+05:30Every Dog Has Its Day<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This is utterly awesome. I received this as an email, a while ago, and I just couldn't control my laughter. I have been on amusement spree since yesterday.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Aah! If you think only politicians (though there is hell lot of a difference between these two species) made it there, then probably you are sadly mistaken. Take a look at this, after all, <i><b>"Every Dog Has Its Day"</b></i>. Also, for the unfathomable love that I have have for canines, I could not resist myself from posting this to my blog.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYzPOHMIuJvykS1OdjOBixgKIOeYEjFkW4Ury02zKl1X0L4bFr3qHP1Pni0PFZ9Ca-90fl8yq359c28u5rwr3Fgqxlwcko_O9HEkwb6B5h09My4OJeliVAyaa0YDLcrKFnTtvd/s1600-h/Every+Dog+Has+Its+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYzPOHMIuJvykS1OdjOBixgKIOeYEjFkW4Ury02zKl1X0L4bFr3qHP1Pni0PFZ9Ca-90fl8yq359c28u5rwr3Fgqxlwcko_O9HEkwb6B5h09My4OJeliVAyaa0YDLcrKFnTtvd/s640/Every+Dog+Has+Its+Day.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-small;">--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- </span></b></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>I received this image as an email forward. I am not aware of the original source of this email. I do not claim any credibility or ownership, and/or authenticity of this image.</i></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-44735421250478517362010-02-09T13:17:00.001+05:302010-02-09T17:13:12.247+05:30The Customer (S)Care Departments<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I received a call this morning. I had a hearty laugh after that.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Somehow, all of a sudden, numerous customer care representative (tele-callers) from various banks, mobile companies, investment firms, and so on have flocked my cell phone – luckily all girls (a soul saving gesture) with voices varying from that of <i>Lata Didi</i> to <i>Rani Mukherjee</i> to <i>Amrish Puri</i>. </span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Handling tele-callers from customer care department has always scared me. However, at times, dealing with customer care representatives has been fun. I, whenever my mood and time permitted, have tried to give them a hearty break from their monotonous, lethargic routines. </span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The call that I received this morning was from some institution dealing in online share trading, DEMAT accounts etc.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>She: Good morning Sir, I am calling from XYZ. Do you have a DEMAT account sir?</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Me: Good morning Ma’am. Yes</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>She: Aap kiska DEMAT account use karte hai Sir? (Whose DEMAT account do you use Sir?</i></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Well, she must have meant which institution’s account I use. However, I was in some mood to lighten myself. And I replied thus…</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Me: Mein khud ka hi DEMAT use karta hoon Ma’am, kisi aur ka kyon use karoonga (I use DEMAT account of my own, why would I use DEMAT account of someone else?)</i></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I started laughing loud. The girl was a sport too. She joined my hilarious roars, as well, and hung up few seconds later.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I was traveling from home to office, rejoicing the morning conversation. I was not repenting it, in any way. I remembered similar calls that I had received last week.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">A young lady, possibly could have been a slim pretty girl, with a sweet voice blended with a vernacular dialect, called me to sell a credit card of a bank. I kept conveying my disinterest and my belief in <i><b>‘I-will-never-use-credit-cards’</b></i> (earlier usages had given me rides of suicidal abnormalities – piling debt, recovery calls/threats..ssshhh).</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>She: There is an amazing offer. You will get …</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Me: I am not interested</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">(After about 3 minutes of verbal tussle)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>She: Sheyy…ye log saale sunn ke bhi nahi leta. Hum itne mehnat se phone karte hai. Humari bhi nokri hai yaar (Damn…these people are not ready to listen also. We take so much effort to make calls. This is our job).</i></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I could hear her <i>frustration-dipped-mumbling</i> as I was about to disconnect the call. I felt little sorry for her. I do get emotional sometimes. The momentary <i>emotional atyachaar</i> is better to handle than <i>financial crisis</i> due to credit cards; sediments of emotional sentiments would eventually whither away, automatically.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The same evening, I received another call from some other credit card company. I got ready for the introductory verbiage, which all customer care department use, irrespective of the services they offer.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My heart knocked at the doors of my brain, and asked it to behave, reminding me what I had done earlier that morning. I decided to listen to the executive patiently and be as sympathetic as I could.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The customer care executive, a fine young lady again, explained the services, offers, benefits, terms & conditions, and other details to me. She went on for next 10 to 12 minutes; the entire battlefield of verbal conversation was open to her to make all sorts of shots of me. My only defence was <i>“Hmm”</i>, <i>“Aaha”</i>,<i> “Accha”</i>,<i> “Nice”</i>,<i> “Cool”</i> sporadically spread over the entire conversation; and a sigh of relief at the end of her verbal ballistics. </span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>She: Toh Sir mein kabhi bheju humare representative ko form leke, aapke sab documents toh ready rahenge na? (Then Sir when shall I send our representative with the form, you will keep all your documents ready, right?)</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Me: Well Ma’am, I appreciate the details you gave me. You have been very kind and patient in explaining your services to me. However, I do not use credit cards and hence I may not want to avail this offer. Thank you very much.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>She: Arey to pehle bolne ka na interest nahi hai wo, itna time kyon waste kiya hamara. (You should have told that to me earlier that you are not interested, why did you waste so much of our time).</i></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I got two reactions to two identical issues, both reactions extremes of each other. For a while, I thought, all these customer care executives suffered from bipolar disorder. I stood there confused about “how should a customer react then?” <i>“Customer is king”</i>, really?</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here is one more, the most hilarious experience that I had last year with the customer care department of our very own desi MTNL. I had subscribed to <b><i>MTNL Triband</i></b> – lightening fast broadband connection.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I get MTNL broadband 2Mbps speed, I am excited and I am happy (till date). Auspiciously (yes, I can say that), there have never been any major issues. There were rare discrepancies sometimes though. They delivered what they promised. However, as all services get disrupted someday for some time, at least, MTNL too face some failure (recovered in 4 hours, mind you), and I called up their customer care. </span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Let me remind I had called up the MTNL customer care, don’t expect the 20 somethings (no young ladies with <i>nectar-doused</i> tongues to talk sweet) to take your call and greet you pleasantly. Typically the environment there would be some <i>Sathye bai</i> talking about some <i>Joshi Kaku</i> and a supervisor <i>Tiwari </i>shouting in the background at some linesman <i>Dubey.</i></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here goes the conversation.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Me: Hello Madam, Good afternoon.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Lady (40 something, and I give respect to elders, hence Lady and not She): Haan bola (yes tell me)</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Me: My name is Amol and my phone number is XXXXXXX, I have been facing some problems with my internet</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Lady: Hmmmm</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Me: Can you please direct me to some technical person</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Lady: problem kay jhalay, modem chya 4 light petlayt ka (what is the problem, are the 4 LEDs on the modem blinking?)</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Me: Madam, sagla nit ahey, pun ping hoth nahiye kontich site, page cannot be displayed error yetoy (all is ok, but I am not able to ping any site, and I am getting the page cannot be displayed error)</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Lady: modem bandh karun chalu kara 5 mintani (switch of the modem and put it ON after 5 mins)</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Me: me karun pahile tey, LAN cable sudha disconnect karun parat connect keli, PC suddha restart karun pahila (I have tried that, tried LAN connection and restarting the PC as well)</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Lady: Laptop vaparta ki computer (are you using a laptop or a computer) [I never knew these two could be different]</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Me: Uhhh…Laptop (I was totally pissed off)</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Lady: Window (not Windows ok) konta ahey, 98, 2000 ki XP (which version of Windows are you using) [Bill Gates will be terribly happy that people till today still do mention Windows 98, hahahaha]</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Me: Vista, Windows Vista</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Lady: Visshta, navin ahey kay, tey amhala shikavla nahi ajun. Aye Pournima (or may be Premila) aplyala ajun Visshta sangitla nahiye na ajun (Vista! Is it new? It has not been taught to us yet. “We haven’t been taught Vista yet”, the lady confirmed with her fellow colleague)</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Me: Ok, thank you madam</i></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The issue somehow (I still don’t know how) got resolved after 3-4 hours automatically. It was frustrating but it was fun, I still get a brisk smile on my face and sometimes load of laughter when I remember or narrate the incident to someone. </span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I am laughing, now as well.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-19116615590033883202010-02-04T09:57:00.001+05:302010-02-04T09:58:31.645+05:30“En Respuesta”<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I had written about an English speaking institute, sometime in November last year. Certainly, there was something peculiar about it. Refresh it (optional) - <a href="http://amolsviews.blogspot.com/2009/11/speak-well-but-spell-ill.html" target="_blank">http://amolsviews.blogspot.com/2009/11/speak-well-but-spell-ill.html</a> :-]</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I received a comment yesterday on this post. I, of course, published the comment on that post. However, while doing so, I discovered that this comment could be a blog post in itself. And hence this, as-is, no corrections, no edits.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>“Hi,</em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I am swati Here, I joined spekwell before some days at malad east Mumbai. And my experience is not good and I got disappointed after joining the class.</em></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>This is one of the worse institutes that I joined in my life. These people advertise a lot about their academy. But when you really attend the class you will come to know about the quality of teaching.</em></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>They don’t have separate batches for different level. They asked all people to sit at the same class even if person is not able to speak and the person who knows English well and want to work on his /her fluency.</em></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>The staff is not good. I paid my fees on first day without attending the demo lecture and now I am regretting that I wasted my money. I asked for my money back at the same day after the class and they are saying it’s not in their policy. These people are the worse people I ever seen. If you are able to speak English and want to work on your fluency and other factor, don’t join this class. you only west your money and your time . This is the worse place to learn the English. They advertise a lot about everything but in reality you wont be able to lean anything.”</em></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It is good to see people responding, and making many people aware of the realities that mostly go unearthed.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Swati – If you happen to bump onto my blog again, please do contact me (my contact details available in my profile); would like to discuss some more details with you on this.</em></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-69883705800748269992010-01-21T10:31:00.006+05:302010-07-29T13:59:14.662+05:30Andu & Bandu: Tale of Two Naughtys<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: red;">All characters in this story may appear to be fictitious. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: red;">Any resemblance to real persons, living, dead, or missing could be surprisingly coincidental.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><b>------------------------------------------------------------------</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Virar station, 7pm, <b>Andu</b> <i>(pronounced as UNDO)</i> and <b>Bandu</b> <i>(as BUNDO)</i> were waiting for some other friends to arrive. They all were to go for a picnic near Arnala beach.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Amidst the entire crowd, a not-so-beautiful-but-fair girl passed by. Andu, a guy with short stature craned his neck to get her glimpse and then turned to Bandu to check if he saw his act. Bandu too, taking advantage of his height, had taken <i>darshan</i> of that beauty. And they both smiled, rather laughed at each other.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><i>“Men will be men,”</i></b> roared Bandu and they burst out into a thunderous laughter again. Andu and Bandu both are 30 something <i>shaadi-shuda</i> guys, not to each other ofcourse – happily married, not <i>gay-ly</i>.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Like the scene at the Virar station, there are many coincidences of them liking the same thing. Bandu joined some classes in XII, so did Andu. Bandu and Andu, both, even today, have same model of mobile phones – <i>E71</i>, same model of laptops – <i>IBM R52</i>, and had same model of their earlier mobile phones – <i>Nokia 6630</i>.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Let’s roll back to their college days and take a glimpse into some of their finest moments, there are many but we will restrict to just a few.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Andu and Bandu met at the junior college and since then went on to become fast friends, who have enjoyed joyous rides of life since their college days.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLGkg7DV3NVsOFP7eu6fv1o0MOWRKztFiWFmCZgavx6PhNRHNr29DqReMjS6AlThQF7Z-KRwxI-DMh_Dq6fDbYMgfTru-7bAag-KdIprkEUmB2rUGbJMu3jRzwOiN6O4hcmggP/s1600-h/Andu+Pandu+-+Friends.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLGkg7DV3NVsOFP7eu6fv1o0MOWRKztFiWFmCZgavx6PhNRHNr29DqReMjS6AlThQF7Z-KRwxI-DMh_Dq6fDbYMgfTru-7bAag-KdIprkEUmB2rUGbJMu3jRzwOiN6O4hcmggP/s200/Andu+Pandu+-+Friends.gif" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Nothing superficial about it. They are pakke friends to the extent that <i>“wo jaan de bhi sakte hai and le bhi sakte hain – ek dusre ki”</i>…<i>errghhh</i>.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Life at college continued and it was there, where the coincidences of their likeness took roots. They both fell for the same girl, whom they fondly called <b>442</b>.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9WjbAjORa8Pvt3F9eM72q9LY3_olZESeiP7ZPoYsXn7QLaVZw8LKIS_p6Kge_GbHaB0oUInMmOZ8Ibx9hEC4HLv9rWQs2aYjykWsjiIEbF8-15KXlC77kYH5o_jQctXZeFp-C/s1600-h/Andu+Bandu%27s+Love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9WjbAjORa8Pvt3F9eM72q9LY3_olZESeiP7ZPoYsXn7QLaVZw8LKIS_p6Kge_GbHaB0oUInMmOZ8Ibx9hEC4HLv9rWQs2aYjykWsjiIEbF8-15KXlC77kYH5o_jQctXZeFp-C/s320/Andu+Bandu%27s+Love.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Andu was prompt in falling in love but was little introvert and mostly shied away from mixing with girls. He used to be content with his small group of friends. He mostly rejoiced with the thoughts that finally cupid has struck his heart.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXVlZmgyCSzuYEkhLQiUThhm3hlsh1FrBoITM91u5HjgV4BDAaJRBIMScyB-hiOMM_gwIBpmR3GC32MQ7MqnmswuUYtQXnl9evJ2FH8QNknOIZKyDzQdLMkUskCFz05m2KjGqe/s1600-h/Cupid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXVlZmgyCSzuYEkhLQiUThhm3hlsh1FrBoITM91u5HjgV4BDAaJRBIMScyB-hiOMM_gwIBpmR3GC32MQ7MqnmswuUYtQXnl9evJ2FH8QNknOIZKyDzQdLMkUskCFz05m2KjGqe/s320/Cupid.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Bandu, on the other hand, was usually hyper excited about things, outgoing, and the <i>six footer</i> frequently found presence and place among the then chick <i>tarunis</i>. He did lot of <i>majja</i> in college :-)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">One day while walking back to Andheri station, he narrated to Andu how he would love to propose 442 and that he would go running after her bus <b><i>(BEST route no. 442 and hence her name)</i></b> just to have a glance at her. She indeed was so very beautiful, a Muslim girl, whose beauty radiated even from within the burkha, which she wore often to college.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRKAocuGB45vL-wzQRaAveljFAKsxbu-RiuvofO0kZZdAZVGTh8_2ZA_qHqQheQtS4Ea2owbzmul4XfyqrCmtvCnQTJyr-Dwqszjf5lHpuQ7PRLZ5tq6IK97FBaof_40pZosu8/s1600-h/Falling-in-love.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRKAocuGB45vL-wzQRaAveljFAKsxbu-RiuvofO0kZZdAZVGTh8_2ZA_qHqQheQtS4Ea2owbzmul4XfyqrCmtvCnQTJyr-Dwqszjf5lHpuQ7PRLZ5tq6IK97FBaof_40pZosu8/s320/Falling-in-love.png" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">They kept dreaming about her, admiring her, and making sure that they did not miss a single chance to gaze at that beauty. She was the topic of their discussion most of the times, no arguments or fights happened between them because of her, however.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This is not a love tale alone.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Days kept passing by, and Andu & Bandu were fully aware that they needed to take stake of their future and career as well. More than 442 and other figures around the college they also needed to worry about the figure on their mark sheet, they needed to excel the 442 mark and achieve at least 480 to get a respectable 80% in the HSC exams.</span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Having studied hard for the HSC exams, and then waiting for the results, Andu and Bandu sat together one day to decided on their next course of action – engineering?, B.Sc.?, Pharmacy? etc...</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicxqd69KXvM63Ze6Q44ccJUOeH84l8dTiCy-O1ArZPBmDfxj4M78nNguH80YIBnXMGF49PytKi2arfFI88a1o2SSPmOfp97ofRXqfWkzva500LBps2F6oLDnAkvSb2ea3gyryw/s1600-h/Andu+Bandu+-+Then.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicxqd69KXvM63Ze6Q44ccJUOeH84l8dTiCy-O1ArZPBmDfxj4M78nNguH80YIBnXMGF49PytKi2arfFI88a1o2SSPmOfp97ofRXqfWkzva500LBps2F6oLDnAkvSb2ea3gyryw/s200/Andu+Bandu+-+Then.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Among the most incidents that took place in Andu’s and Bandu’s life, here is the most hilarious one, probably the only one.</span></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Amidst all the career options that Andu and Bandu were experimenting with, Bandu once came across a career in Navy; <i style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">naah</i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> not the armed forces one. It was marine engineering. </span></span></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;"><i>“They get lot of salary and other benefits, I have heard,”</i> said Andu.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLmILTxehZb3DU-ph35qqz30xaLjrvu9Qte-cXz3yB6KD-DK0jLzKwbbnVyAJ7uDDao351GdsbpOCJBKccchbOjOSH5STmR7h5s6pTWEhJEkg0n50vn5VXsb0ygr_6S2a_Tuqv/s1600-h/Marine+Engineering+ke+Khwaab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLmILTxehZb3DU-ph35qqz30xaLjrvu9Qte-cXz3yB6KD-DK0jLzKwbbnVyAJ7uDDao351GdsbpOCJBKccchbOjOSH5STmR7h5s6pTWEhJEkg0n50vn5VXsb0ygr_6S2a_Tuqv/s320/Marine+Engineering+ke+Khwaab.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Well, at that time, career, passion where just few words whose depth they couldn’t fathom. <b><i>‘EARN MONEY, BE SUCCESSFUL’</i></b> was the only mantra, then no matter what you did.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Bandu used to visit Andu’s place frequently to play cricket. That evening, Bandu brought the newspaper cutting of that <b><i>‘Marine Engineering Ad’</i></b>. </div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><i>“Arey, tichya aila, ya sathi tar IIT-JEE dyavi lagnaar,”</i> Andu burst out in a dismal cry when he read the eligibility criteria for getting into marine engineering. IIT entrance was the most dreaded exam considered at that time. They weren’t much aware of the CAT for IIMs.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><i>“Let us do it, at least let us give it a try. Karna hai toh karna hai,”</i> Bandu tried to instill some confidence in Andu.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><i>“Yes, but it requires lot of study and studying in this vacation time again Damn!”</i> Andu sighed.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><i>“Salya…your papers were good, you are going to get good score, your engineering seat is pakka. What about me?”</i> Bandu frowned on Andu.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><i>“Oh, come on, I know how my papers were”</i></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><i>“You are a scholar. You always do well in exams”</i></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><i>“Gupp re. I don’t want to argue. We will get the forms tomorrow”</i></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">They got the form, completed it and submitted it.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><i>“This is kind of strange. They want us to go on ship but want us to clear IIT-JEE”,</i> Andu grinned at Bandu when they were returning from a library one day. They got some books to study.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Studies began for GREAT IIT-JEE, all for just to be on the ship for 6 months long, hopefully. 2 months of study to appear for that Herculean entrance exam, Andu and Bandu were all set to embarrass the clan who was studying hard for IIT since 2 years or even more. They were not sure that they had in them, but some sort of confidence was certainly there.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXqDgEQ1d-FMnEuhuAdRj9zqZPLG-_5VZGuFmAJQb7rjw1hKNs9iJxH_jnTIXCypQYMpQxu7JpsfynnKzT5uD6SUA1lascQbdiXhUf7eEMWiUWvHhXaFl_IMTDSBMp_PJJUIZ/s1600-h/Bandu+Studying.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXqDgEQ1d-FMnEuhuAdRj9zqZPLG-_5VZGuFmAJQb7rjw1hKNs9iJxH_jnTIXCypQYMpQxu7JpsfynnKzT5uD6SUA1lascQbdiXhUf7eEMWiUWvHhXaFl_IMTDSBMp_PJJUIZ/s200/Bandu+Studying.png" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHmbnY1P_RjhJ9xKTArEQ11PZ0gPpyri5URoD0bWl6qccjYU8GSVRk3hveVK218pRM-LY0lomZLpB4W-1IaZEBsISC-zaW5Ky3L-e4WDsu7MHRnEEAWyjH_876pfKHVi047kB/s1600-h/Andu+Studying.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHmbnY1P_RjhJ9xKTArEQ11PZ0gPpyri5URoD0bWl6qccjYU8GSVRk3hveVK218pRM-LY0lomZLpB4W-1IaZEBsISC-zaW5Ky3L-e4WDsu7MHRnEEAWyjH_876pfKHVi047kB/s320/Andu+Studying.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">They struggled a lot understanding the dynamics of the entrance exam and trying to getting used to the question paper patterns, answering tricky questions, laws of intelligent guessing, and parroting formulae.</span></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Finally, the day arrived when they were to make the <b>GRAND</b> entry into the examination hall. Their center was in Malad. Andu and Bandu had exam seat numbers just one behind the other, as they had submitted the entrance exam forms simultaneously.</span></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">The competition was fierce. There was tremendous crowd outside the examination center. Andu and Bandu were aghast – <i>‘we have to excel so many of them…phew’</i>. The scene almost looked like an <i><b>‘about-to-begin-stampede’.</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg54yeVqhCuMxWD8F8MyThyi81H-fsimipkK4ZCRn9rOftQk-TNXxhrZ4wgnvN4mn1a8eWvM9mYUw-2XWL5v2g500MEA5Fp4c7DSVoISKQz7VGAbXxSyPQmGH_8JZqnTutOMB1p/s1600-h/IIT+-+JEE+Exam+Results.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg54yeVqhCuMxWD8F8MyThyi81H-fsimipkK4ZCRn9rOftQk-TNXxhrZ4wgnvN4mn1a8eWvM9mYUw-2XWL5v2g500MEA5Fp4c7DSVoISKQz7VGAbXxSyPQmGH_8JZqnTutOMB1p/s400/IIT+-+JEE+Exam+Results.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Both young men, finally could locate the floor and room numbers, and bravely made their way to the ‘battlefield’ like classroom. As they stepped into the classroom, they could virtually hear blowing of the <i>tutari</i>, just like what <i>Baji Prabhu</i> must have heard when conquering some fort.</span></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Like the great warriors, <i>Tipu</i> and <i>Tughlaq</i>, Andu and Bandu entered the examination hall with all the dreams that they must make it, as, if successful the life ahead could turn into a fortune.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZEgg3KUCYxrxw638s2fMtrn0OkhXTCrD7DzozC4WlEvlzU-E67kPiNLPiM4GssZHeQVjP8cDq_PlzEwc-5HEMWPrQRcxNOOznzraLLh8DppqDhp39mVcY69wZm_0tRfPAfYZ/s1600-h/Wealth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUZEgg3KUCYxrxw638s2fMtrn0OkhXTCrD7DzozC4WlEvlzU-E67kPiNLPiM4GssZHeQVjP8cDq_PlzEwc-5HEMWPrQRcxNOOznzraLLh8DppqDhp39mVcY69wZm_0tRfPAfYZ/s200/Wealth.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>“Aai Bhavani chya aashirwadane”</i>, Andu and Bandu occupied their seats and their marathon to success began. The exam hall was packed. With sweating hands, trembling legs, and smiling faces, Andu and Bandu occupied their respective desk.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWP6khdwKmdncQsDufpkAXg4tegytG5LaukbhjCSS8xwBxxurAp5FvNQW1ScETXBirC2OZ6bfVkunixYv5TgecWStXFegUIpAdrQ2AbQ4729QwQEErA1Tphye0VG-h0IezrPs_/s1600-h/IIT+-+JEE+Examination.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWP6khdwKmdncQsDufpkAXg4tegytG5LaukbhjCSS8xwBxxurAp5FvNQW1ScETXBirC2OZ6bfVkunixYv5TgecWStXFegUIpAdrQ2AbQ4729QwQEErA1Tphye0VG-h0IezrPs_/s400/IIT+-+JEE+Examination.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Two papers were scheduled on the first day, it was a Saturday. Screening test and Physics. The other papers (Physics, Chemistry, and Mathematics) were checked only if you cleared the screening test paper. Tired and excited, the warrior duo, walked out of the classroom, and headed straight to the washroom.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx5Z2co6euzX9zlb6QPSzt43um3h4Bv9eeUeUZAq26a0PiIufB_mHsozNG7_mprm7-KIfFAJ6f4ZT_Ul7KIxnKvqIW1tEVqhn-JIc3wQkumUeK8-dfWzCNli1Ggj7fJRFYrdpR/s1600-h/Andu+Bandu+After+Exam.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx5Z2co6euzX9zlb6QPSzt43um3h4Bv9eeUeUZAq26a0PiIufB_mHsozNG7_mprm7-KIfFAJ6f4ZT_Ul7KIxnKvqIW1tEVqhn-JIc3wQkumUeK8-dfWzCNli1Ggj7fJRFYrdpR/s320/Andu+Bandu+After+Exam.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They took next immediate train back home. They wished each other <i>“best of luck”</i> for studies of next paper, winked at each other and left.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On reaching home, Andu's mother showered questions of curiosity on him,<i> "How was it? How many question did you solve? Kashi hoti mag I-I-T".</i></span></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Andu remained standing near the door silently and sighed, <i>"Aai Aai Tea"</i>.</span></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">As agreed, Andu and Bandu met at Malad station and started walking towards their examination center. It was Sunday, the day of Mathematics and Chemistry.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><i>“My Maama stays here in Malad. He has called us for lunch today,”</i> Bandu said while resting his hand on Andu’s left shoulder.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><i>“Arey but how. We will not find so much time,”</i> Andu shrilled.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><i>“See we have a break of 90 minutes between two papers, we can easily accommodate the lunch. And it’s better than spending money outside.”</i></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Andu agreed. And indeed that time money was a major problem.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Bandu started singing some song while still walking towards the examination center, it was all extemporized; Bandu kept adding some words that came to his lips.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Mi gacchi var jaaun basaycho</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Sobatila majhya, priya mitra Bandu</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Baki mitra sagle, ground var jaayche</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Amhi khelat gotya, viti dandu</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Tey sagle chaukar, shatkaar hanayche</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Mala hi havet, pandhre shubhra pad</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>S.G. chi bat, and laal season cha ball</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Asa manatun khup khup vatayche</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Punn kay karnar,</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Kaaran, kharach tevha itke paise nasayche</i></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Andu also made up some words and added another stanza to Bandu’s on-the-spot performance – such great was their friendship, easily readable minds.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Madhlya suttit sagle hotel madhe jaat</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Apla matra tapri varach bhagaycha</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Tyanche uttappa, dosa, juice che thaat</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Batata sandwich var sollid pott bharaycha</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Anna cha dosa, Baban cha vada, paar ved lavayche</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Pun divsache fakt char ach rupaye milayche</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Sandwich cha alach jar kantala kadhi</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Tar change mhanun usachya rasa var bhagvayche</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Punn kay karnar,</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Kaaran, kharach tevha itke paise nasayche</i></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">And then they sang in chorus, each adding one line at a time and reciting it together...</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Sandhya kali ghari jatan tar jaam gochi</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Kovlya vayat local la itki gardi pahun</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Paar oli houn jaychi chaddi</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Train mage train sodun, mi titech tasan taas</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Laal patya vale dabbe rikami asayche</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Hirvya patte valyat chadlo, tar “utar bhadvya”</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Ase sagle lok oradayche, mag kay</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Ghari pochayla, local chya bari var lombkalayche</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Kay karnar,</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Kaaran, kharach tevha itke paise nasayche</i></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>College madhye asa khup vataycha</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Dyava tila, ek chaan sa laal gulab</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Ani Rose day chya divshi pahava</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Tila ghetana Rose Queen cha khitaab</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Pun titkyat Andheri station yaycha</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>‘Chal ata vedya’ asa mhanun</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Majhach mann majhya var hasayche</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Gulab kay, pakli tari de, ase chidvayche</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Tey pun kharach ahey mhana,</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: center;"><i>Kaaran, kharach tevha itke paise nasayche</i></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">They kept singing their <b><i>‘just-baked’</i></b> song till they reached their center.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJv6cD4vnL6r2OuX_Ukjw9ky13aVN7iHoPeVO-fLLPpfYcCfUfHBE-GLBSs5QsTMWWHyH1dYpiMDUUCf5m41FnkNIODBbMioLhkyRmk0FntTbB59hXsDoy9uXfOuDT-doKohK/s1600-h/Andu+Bandu+Best+Friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJv6cD4vnL6r2OuX_Ukjw9ky13aVN7iHoPeVO-fLLPpfYcCfUfHBE-GLBSs5QsTMWWHyH1dYpiMDUUCf5m41FnkNIODBbMioLhkyRmk0FntTbB59hXsDoy9uXfOuDT-doKohK/s320/Andu+Bandu+Best+Friends.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Mathematics paper was over. They both walked out grinning and smiling at each other. Their 2 months of study was put through a thorough test. Today wasn’t any different than the yesterday.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Andu and Bandu walked down to Bandu’s Maama’s place. The house was filled with fresh aroma of delicious Marathi <i>pakkvaane</i>. They both guzzled down 2 glasses of water each. The examination was in the month of May, the scorching summer of Mumbai had dehydrated two teenagers.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">As they had to hurry back to the center for their next paper, food was served immediately. They sat talking about the future prospects, career options with the family over the lunch. The <i>‘swaadishtt jevan’</i> was amazingly mouthwatering and the best part was the <i>‘amrakhand’</i> – the mango season was just fresh.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrsdQ6aJcWfrbg8-jQnScfa-lEtw0bI_ju03ZEKM0kQC2Qu7nOTbpQJzIcLqbzwDaLYmyt4pmUmcVyJBvvo0PDb0yP7ClmGDKxaj-PFxMT3ENBtmgoj6Du58O0RCAXH1lx6T9/s1600-h/Mama+Cha+Jevan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBrsdQ6aJcWfrbg8-jQnScfa-lEtw0bI_ju03ZEKM0kQC2Qu7nOTbpQJzIcLqbzwDaLYmyt4pmUmcVyJBvvo0PDb0yP7ClmGDKxaj-PFxMT3ENBtmgoj6Du58O0RCAXH1lx6T9/s200/Mama+Cha+Jevan.jpg" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwYu3WOqgAzv1u0QAmTtFSGk0GYhjAQEcRzob7agfFi9De8gpaiP9HdGo_qKg6wsRmAkBbRNRyGpqo1PZFmzDyfYDcIAdoKiSvXiYmsJ-daDhp6N8vcqGW6bwG0cxru_HGUKdL/s1600-h/Amrakhan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwYu3WOqgAzv1u0QAmTtFSGk0GYhjAQEcRzob7agfFi9De8gpaiP9HdGo_qKg6wsRmAkBbRNRyGpqo1PZFmzDyfYDcIAdoKiSvXiYmsJ-daDhp6N8vcqGW6bwG0cxru_HGUKdL/s200/Amrakhan.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">With heavily packed tummies, Andu and Bandu set their journey back to the center. Andu was already drowsy as if he had bottomed down gallons of beer. Andu was used to sleeping for 2-3 hours in the afternoon and it was very much impossible for him to keep his eyes wide open. He walked down the street as if almost asleep. Thanks to Bandu, that he was there to maneuver Andu safely to the examination center.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC44DMSpzWa-EqFB5bTTMz_ORO5MGVSGN4fzjzTjNN3kuoEgh50rhLmzeF0Ut_vsn4NJqxciYf2sjczkQopxeJIYvH-tJyeEPb_W8_UbncvNg6aBSb0G8xDWtwxPv-0X5k0fo3/s1600-h/Andu+Bandu+Sleepy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC44DMSpzWa-EqFB5bTTMz_ORO5MGVSGN4fzjzTjNN3kuoEgh50rhLmzeF0Ut_vsn4NJqxciYf2sjczkQopxeJIYvH-tJyeEPb_W8_UbncvNg6aBSb0G8xDWtwxPv-0X5k0fo3/s320/Andu+Bandu+Sleepy.png" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Answer sheets were distributed. Then came the ‘Chemistry’ question paper. And ‘<i><b>Oh My God’</b></i>, there was not a single thing Andu or Bandu could understand in that paper except the instructions on the topic and the paper details. They questioned their parents and God about bring them to earth - for this torturous day? The questions were all full of <b>‘O’</b>, <b>‘C’</b>, and ‘<b>H’</b> with single or double lines connecting the alphabets forming structures like hexagons, squares, rectangles, circles, and alike.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Bandu looked at Andu, Andu looked at the invigilator, and invigilator looked at the watch and other examinees. Bandu nodded his head signaling to Andu that he was helpless. Andu conveyed the same to Bandu.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Bandu sat on the bench with his hands folded, while Andu cupped his face into his palms gazing at the question paper. Such was their state – fearless but pitiable; not that they self pitied or were sympathetic to each other.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-rmOlc-BTR-Wlac6x7c2XC-UeaZFNFLn7lukFvX6w-cOKntPdQM5Bhn0naUsOMdGdVgosos510Y-ddKbOqFMy0sWeuMKCDkZsLAYspHpaxKQLKWp99NqPZoZ7L4hU9dF8sAu/s1600-h/Bandu+at+Exam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-rmOlc-BTR-Wlac6x7c2XC-UeaZFNFLn7lukFvX6w-cOKntPdQM5Bhn0naUsOMdGdVgosos510Y-ddKbOqFMy0sWeuMKCDkZsLAYspHpaxKQLKWp99NqPZoZ7L4hU9dF8sAu/s200/Bandu+at+Exam.jpg" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt84YRMjYo_QnZStHFZfWIQ9cag8BW46fakboc9QnZu_Bp7ZsZ2BmldmslGRieXYWVcEpAqDdn_0xtH2Xt-yPi1BwC-IdAYgsIIwfH9KpJW9OR2ygwqUuwaA68KkuKGcybsQP6/s1600-h/Andu+at+Exam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt84YRMjYo_QnZStHFZfWIQ9cag8BW46fakboc9QnZu_Bp7ZsZ2BmldmslGRieXYWVcEpAqDdn_0xtH2Xt-yPi1BwC-IdAYgsIIwfH9KpJW9OR2ygwqUuwaA68KkuKGcybsQP6/s200/Andu+at+Exam.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Andu copied all the questions 'as-is' in the answer sheet, just maybe to shirk that embarrassment of handing over a blank answer sheet to the invigilator.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Instructions made it mandatory for them to sit in the exam hall at least for 45 minutes. They both waited for the clock to tick the 45th minute. Just about when it happened, Andu and Bandu jumped off from their desks, handed over the answer sheets and ran out of the exam hall. They came out with thunders of laughter and miming each other’s state.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">They reached home and enjoyed a game of cricket.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Life continued for days, as if IIT-JEE had never happened to Andu and Bandu, until one day, Bandu’s cousin, who also had appeared for IIT-JEE reminded them of the <b>"results day"</b>. It was quite obvious what the result was going to be like, for the answer sheets could have well been portrayed as antiques in the museums of the elite Indian Institute of Technology.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">However, their heroics in the papers were long forgotten. And the <b>great Tipu and Tughlaq</b> were all set to march towards the prestigious IIT-Bombay to take a look at their fate. The bus ride in <b>398 Ltd.</b> through the lush green <b>Aarey Colony</b> was refreshing and joyous.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzVcXhxj_1EvhL6x2ub_QKDX_zCRdT_q5zUZy49YKAkmPX4u3Sh_Dih28aGSeV4WXMOkRxHX7G5htKz1VRLLW6E40d8Wq8OrirBBeLvEqJFMTT1RrBpBHBFLIdWupPPESwjj1M/s1600-h/IIT-JEE+Resulta+-+HA+HA+HA+HA.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzVcXhxj_1EvhL6x2ub_QKDX_zCRdT_q5zUZy49YKAkmPX4u3Sh_Dih28aGSeV4WXMOkRxHX7G5htKz1VRLLW6E40d8Wq8OrirBBeLvEqJFMTT1RrBpBHBFLIdWupPPESwjj1M/s320/IIT-JEE+Resulta+-+HA+HA+HA+HA.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Evidently, Andu and Bandu did not figure in the results list, not even at the bottomest of the bottom. But their confidence was rock solid, they were least bothered the saying – <i>“as you sow, so shall you reap”</i> and they disagreed to believe that miracles only happened to aliens.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Despite knowing that there was no chance they could have passed, the duo took a deep look the list, and then wiggled out of the crowd, laughing thunderously as usual, proclaiming – <i>‘Nirlajjam sada sukhi’.</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Just like once they had said for their beloved <b>442</b>, <i>‘ye nahi toh koi aur sahi’</i>, they shrugged a similar attitude at the IIT. They didn’t bother if the gates of IIT and that of the naval base were closed for them. It was all about attitude for them.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">They marched ahead bravely, taking up whatever came their way. They decided to navigate on the walks of the life as presented to them and be patient. Andu & Bandu followed only one rule - success, fame, power, and money are the outputs of dedication, hardwork, and tenacity. They made this as a rule of their life.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz3L6P8Iqa1W6fmgHELzbqSjaU4F-AE0g15RSJA5-RfNkaysTMGvThATwFH5jrHnXHwyAF6nR5iLimVc9Wm29nKZS9wtIxmVM6e9FS7KU3UeS0wL5ZUI8slekeXfp5zakm7ZSx/s1600-h/Adnu-Bandu+Continue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz3L6P8Iqa1W6fmgHELzbqSjaU4F-AE0g15RSJA5-RfNkaysTMGvThATwFH5jrHnXHwyAF6nR5iLimVc9Wm29nKZS9wtIxmVM6e9FS7KU3UeS0wL5ZUI8slekeXfp5zakm7ZSx/s200/Adnu-Bandu+Continue.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">While life gave them a lot of twists and turns, their ways parted, however, one thing that was always constant and rigid that they remained <i>pakke dosts</i> – and that was without doubt. With time their friendship only took deep roots, though frustrations of their unfulfilled fascinations did take some spurts.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtjY7WOP12M02t85nQIFi_AZfCYIbs9fVk2kYNeEIWoy9xN-FmmGazqO5KM1ildx5ByOfKDs4NoOnWiJMfQveqJCckB9-bi0KWWVh0D41RwebfTHnAvkKfSf0H0M5EHP6ypFe/s1600-h/Pakke+Friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWtjY7WOP12M02t85nQIFi_AZfCYIbs9fVk2kYNeEIWoy9xN-FmmGazqO5KM1ildx5ByOfKDs4NoOnWiJMfQveqJCckB9-bi0KWWVh0D41RwebfTHnAvkKfSf0H0M5EHP6ypFe/s400/Pakke+Friends.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">They have busy lives today, excellent career paths, loving wife (respective of course), caring family (respective again), and their tenacity for pursue their passions – Andu with his writing and Bandu with his photography.</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif; text-align: justify;">Just recently, some three great men had said, <b><i>‘Aaal Izzz Well’</i></b>, and indeed it is with these two great men as well. They had said the same thing almost 15 years ago. They might have looked liked idiots, stupid, and dumb fellas standing at the gates of the IIT but in life today, they are proven <b><i>‘the damn jolly good fellas’</i>.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">--------------- THE END</span></b><b><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> --------------- </span></b><b><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></b></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-37211603824056254872010-01-06T18:15:00.000+05:302010-01-06T18:15:13.830+05:30Lost Glory<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">They rejoiced<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Killing many, and<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Leaving others lame<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">With guns held high in air<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">They shouted loud<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">All praise in His name<br />
</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">With trembling legs<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">And fiery eyes<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I walked down the road<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">All worried only about self<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">No one really cared<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">About the blood that flowed<br />
</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Those cries still scare<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">The gun shots still haunt<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Unity disrupted, peace torn<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Lost is the glory<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Which this land<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Once used to adorn <br />
</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">With a blank mind<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">I stood,<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Staring into the infinity<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Struck between the differences<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Of what is sacred<br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">And what is unholy<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-24320519456257804132010-01-06T11:50:00.001+05:302010-01-06T11:52:14.659+05:30We Idiots :-)<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I had loved Chetan Bhagat’s <strong>Five Point Someone</strong>. Though many consider him a <em>sadak-chap</em> writer, he is a bestseller today – we need to appreciate and respect that, at least I do, for I am a writer too.</span><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I loved <strong>3 Idiots</strong> even more. None could have a better job than the Aamir-Raju-Chopra trio, all masters of perfection. Though many consider the movie to be absolutely idiotic and exaggerated (fabricating the principles of engineering), it is a thorough entertainer, total <em>paisa vasool</em> – that’s what movies are for. </span><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">However, what I least expected from such great men, was the push-pull for credits and publicity. Eventually, I got bored going through their ignominy, for my common sense of ad-man & marketeer told me this could well be a publicity gimmick.</span><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And indeed it was, sales of <strong>Five Point Someone</strong> were towering, and ditto was happening with <strong>3 Idiots</strong>. The masters (Chetan-Aamir-Raju-Chopra) might have used a simple principle – <em>“bad publicity is next to good publicity”</em>, they exploited it at the right time and thus roped in more profits.</span><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We, the public, took everything very seriously <em>(aadat se majboor)</em> and helped the media men (and the channels with TRPs) to rake in more money. Unfortunately, we have put kaka to shame, who in the 70’s sang – <em>“Ye jo public hai ye sab jaanti hai”</em>. Yes, <em>public jaanti toh sab hai</em>, but <em>samajhti bahot kum hai</em>.</span><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The <strong>“3 Idiots – Five Point Someone”</strong> clan has smartly fooled us, crowning our heads with a cap saying <strong>“We Idiots”</strong>, while having merry time together, singing – <strong>“Aaal Izz Well with us Mamu … Aaal Izz Well”</strong></span><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-18337376528035415182010-01-05T10:49:00.001+05:302010-01-05T10:53:10.582+05:30Burst of the New Year – 2010<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Wish you all a very <strong>Happy New Year</strong>. Hope your 2010 had begun well with lots of promises to the self – sanguine resolutions full of sanctity. I too have made a few.</span><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It is almost a month that I haven’t posted anything new – OMG! I woke up today morning with this burst inside me. No writings at all, in last one month.</span><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So here I am…</span><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am not sure what I am going to write but I have come all the way singing to the Blogger website:</span><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><strong>Mala ‘login’ karay paayjay</strong></em></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><strong>Mala ‘login’ karay paayjay</strong></em></span><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hope this New Year brings in lots of interesting articles, increased readership, and unfathomable success to me as writer and to you as readers :-]</span><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Cheers!</span><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-73225514431900938372009-12-07T15:01:00.001+05:302009-12-07T15:02:52.249+05:30“Mere paas MAA hai” se … PAA tak<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Continuing with the title above, Amitabh Bachchan has never seemed to impress me, I mean his performances, and not his movies. Right from the <em>“Babu Moshayyyy”</em> to <em>“Anthony Gonsalves”</em> to <em>“Don ko pakadna mushkil hi nahi…”</em> to <em>“Rishtey mein toh…”</em> to <em>“Vijay Dinanath Chauhan hainnn”</em> to <em>“Sarkar – Sarkar Raaj”</em>, I never frenzied at his performances, however, I have liked some of the movies in terms of content and story telling.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Paa</strong> is no different. The best part of the movie was that I did not realise that Amitabh was in that movie (the worst part – Abhishek playing the lead role), I was completely bowled over by <strong>Auro</strong>, and the entire credit goes to R. Balki for conceptualizing it and the make-up artistes who brought it to reality. So talking about <strong>Paa</strong>, all my praise will go to filmmaking, cinematography, and screenplay. I will excuse myself from talking much about the characters of the movie.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Balki, an ad maker, and hence a naturally creative person has done good justice with regards to filmmaking. The way in which the titles were presented was something very innovative and creative.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sreeram with cinematography was fabulous too, trying to match the perfect hues and saturations to get those rightly toned images.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My thumbs up to a well balanced script, with slightly peppered melodrama and astute humour.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Though I had dodged talking about characters, I would surely love to praise <strong>Vishnu</strong>, Auro’s school friend. Vishnu displayed amazing confidence in portraying that role with exceptional dialog delivery skills. Vidya Balan (Auro’s Mum) was good too and so was Bum (Auro’s Mum’s Mum) :-]</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Loose ends of the movie – too much of socio-politico drama, was not required really. Yes, the political and social messages given were fair enough. However, they were given out too loudly; the entire flair of father-son story got diluted in all this somewhere.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ahh, talking about father-son story, I, in my personal opinion think that it was more of a mother-son story. Nobody is talking about it was the mother who has nourished Auro in her womb and nurtured him till he turned 12. The active participation of the two women (mum and bum) was conveniently sidelined and the complete focus was zoomed in on Abhishek Bachchan, which does not make any impact in anyways. The farthest logic that I can see in <em>Baby B</em> encashing on all the jazz is just that he (and his paa) were producers of the movie.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Go and watch <strong>Paa</strong> (with your family) for a refreshing experience. Don’t worry about Bachchans, the elder goes unnoticed (<strong>Auro</strong> is so enticing) and the younger is just rattling on the microphone and making some ugly faces.</span><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-9006637639857874402009-11-26T13:58:00.003+05:302009-11-26T14:01:16.044+05:30Love Thy Mumbai<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>She was rigged, bombed, shattered</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>For several times in history</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Yet she rises up every time in victory</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Such is the spirit of Aapli Mumbai</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Floods clog her streets, services disrupt</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>And every thing turns real scary</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>She blows out kisses of unity</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Help! Stay one! Whispers Aapli Mumbai</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>At riots, her sons fought, killed,</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>And slaughtered each other insanely</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Yet, she unites them during a calamity</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>So profound is the love of Aapli Mumbai</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Where Rahim dances during Ganpati</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>And Prasad walks to Hajji Ali</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>That’s the sense of brotherhood</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Infused and injected by Aapli Mumbai</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>She has, with warm welcomes</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Graced each one, and every body</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>To fulfill their dreams, attain success</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>She is enterprising, she’s Aapli Mumbai</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>We care, as she does for us</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Dare anyone, defy our unity, for no one</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Can shatter us, our spirit, pledge we, </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>The children of this maximum city.</em></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-76786405755678515142009-11-08T13:16:00.000+05:302009-11-08T13:16:47.241+05:30Spelling Fame & Success<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2uOULcLd9BzhScjNSx12BrsRPK8C2MK5-6sz9Wtlb5lWVgCrdAfhaDCEF3S-kETY3msFgA49NHdH9KelHJhSZROeJ_0jUR6O44ge0A2k8HeedvhqSLz3FbdMf79ZXXnF6TYkw/s1600-h/Amol-Redij-Webneetech-Interview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2uOULcLd9BzhScjNSx12BrsRPK8C2MK5-6sz9Wtlb5lWVgCrdAfhaDCEF3S-kETY3msFgA49NHdH9KelHJhSZROeJ_0jUR6O44ge0A2k8HeedvhqSLz3FbdMf79ZXXnF6TYkw/s400/Amol-Redij-Webneetech-Interview.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">An aim in life is the only fortune worth finding - R.L.Stevenson.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">True Indeed! My aim of keeping on writing, and getting published some day seems to have moved a step forward. "Diligence is the mother of good fortune".</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">It feels really great and honoured to be interviewed and published - a small step to fame and success; I have started tasting it, I guess.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I was almost stunned when I read an email from WebNeeTech team about interviewing me as a blogger and featuring it on their website. I had no reason to say NO. Why would one? Having composed myself after the excitement and smiles and giggles, I finished completing the questionnaire (this took me 4 days to complete). <a href="http://webneetech.com/2009/11/06/interview-with-blogger-amol-redij/" target="_blank">Read the interview here.</a></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">My interview was finally published on 6th November, and again the smiles and giggles and various other gestures of satisfaction dawned on my face. The glow on my face that day could have put all Doves, Fairglows, Men's fairness creams, Fair & Lovelys to shame ;-]</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I sent the URL of my interview to all my known and unknown ones. "When you have it, flaunt it" - I say. Of course, there is no need for m to iterate it here, once again. However, many of my readers bombarded my inbox (Email and SMS) with complaints that they couldn't read the entire interview, just the intro, and that they could not post any comments, and today the "post comments" section itself has disappeared. I couldn't face the agony of my readers anymore. And hence, I post this post. Can't afford to leave my readers disheartened. You can leave your comments on my blog and feel good about, and also make me feel good.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Thank you for all the appreciation and support. <a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_1257665069444"></span><span id="goog_1257665069445"></span>Cheers.</span><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21958115.post-29537219079434170062009-11-05T13:02:00.003+05:302009-11-05T21:10:44.005+05:30London Dreams - My Experiments With Truth<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Taking over from the hangover of the histories that I mentioned yesterday, I am now going to pen down my experiments with the icons of that history. Yes, indeed, I did try every single type of drink - I practice what I preach, you see ;-).</span><br />
</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">It will not be possible for me to express in precise words what the experience was like, when tasting some of those beautifully blended, well mixed, scrumptious drinks. Hence, I will constrain myself to just exhibiting my experiments with truth :-D</span><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwHlBBsGV0tJ4NcXgOk7phg_LtHY2vwd_nBiFWBbRnIaURRd6HK0tUGFgqJvVbz4doa1iXFUnmWzqhZ_tc9r7ofxpd-vG5Xa8CRhyphenhyphen8S2RUgLzgZ_-CVfgWKI8tZsHya_T3ypl_/s1600-h/Experiment+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwHlBBsGV0tJ4NcXgOk7phg_LtHY2vwd_nBiFWBbRnIaURRd6HK0tUGFgqJvVbz4doa1iXFUnmWzqhZ_tc9r7ofxpd-vG5Xa8CRhyphenhyphen8S2RUgLzgZ_-CVfgWKI8tZsHya_T3ypl_/s400/Experiment+1.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">Standing (L-R): That is some <i><b>nalla blended scotch whisky</b></i>, this was my first trial in an attempt to save some pounds. I don't even remember the name of this whisky - not important anyways.<br />
</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b><i>Red Label</i></b>: <i>Laal cchhadi (stick) maidan khadi, kya khoob chadhee, kya khoob chadhee (kick) </i>. That says it all and I am sure you all will agree.<br />
</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><i><b>Smirnoff Ice</b></i> - a pre-mixed Smirnoff Vodka with some lime flavour. It tastes ok. Just chill it, gulp it, forget it.<br />
</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b><i>Teacher's Highland Cream Blended Scotch Whisk</i></b>y - one of UK's favourite blends, they say. In the UK this goes in smooth, tastes best when consumed ON THE ROCKS.<br />
</div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">That <i>chintu</i> little thing in the center is <b><i>Martell Cognac</i></b>, a brandy. My initial days in London were chilling enough; I was transported straight from Mumbai's 35 degrees to London's 15 degrees. I needed this brandy then, though the fancy was only short lived.<br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b><i>"Lo ho gayi tayyar hamari Army"</i></b> Beers! Beers! Beers! Ooo la la la! I simply love beers, they are my favourites and I was fascinated with the variety that I found there in London. At times, I used to get so confused at the supermarket stores that it used to take me more than 30 minutes to decide on which beer to take.<br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">The names are very much evident from the picture itself, so would excuse myself from repeating and writing about them. Most of these are now available in India, except J<b>ohn Smiths, Tetleys, </b>and<b> Abbot Ale</b> (this on a special recommendation from a very special friend). Just recently I saw <i><b>Stella Artois</b></i> in one wine shop near Powai, just opposite our elite IIT Bombay.<br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">My best pick among these - John Smiths, so much so that I had started calling it Uncle John. Ameet and I used to often joke; <i>"kya re, kya kar raha hai"..."kuch nahi yaar, uncle John ke saath baitha hoon"</i> :-)<br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">These are some exotic ones, at least from their names. <b>Morgan's Spiced</b> is a flavoured rum, usually to be had with soda or cola. I love rums too, Bacardi being my favourite.</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Champagne Nicolas Feuillatte</i></b>, in a desperation to taste a champagne and in an attempt to find the most affordable one, I picked up this one. Can't really comment on the taste, as this is the only one I had tasted for the first time, no benchmark to rate. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicolas_Feuillatte" target="_blank">Read more</a></span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Mateus</i></b>, a sweet rose wine from Portugal. It is believed that Saddam Hussain used to stock this wine in his palaces. I liked it too.</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Thwaites Wainwright</i></b>, this is a golden ale (a beer of course). Thwaites is the brewery that manufactures this cask ale. Interestingly, Thwaites has around 450 pubs of its own across North England.</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Mission Saint Vincent Bordeaux</i></b>, a crisp and light wine. Bordeaux is a region that produces most of the wine in the world, with more than 9,000 distinct châteaux totaling over hundreds of millions of wine bottles per year.</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our good old <i><b>Mr. & Mrs. Bacardi</b></i>. And that's the best man sparkling soda next to Mr. Bacardi and <i><b>Gordon's Gin</b></i> posing next to Mrs. Bacardi as the bride's maid. As you can see, Gordon's is London's special dry gin, and it really is. And that I am a great and loyal fan of Bacardi, I am going to flaunt about it a lot - <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bacardi" target="_blank">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bacardi </a></span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">That is an assorted wine cellar rack stacked with best liquor from various parts of the world. Psst: did you notice the familiar bottle at the top, <i>apna Old Monk re, no fun without desipan, even when in London</i>.</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">You have seen them before too. Only change, uncle John has turned bitter now. And that <i><b>Canti Pinot Grigio</b></i> is a rose Brut, a wine obviously.</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">The best beers I have ever had. <b><i>Duvel</i></b> - a damn damn good beer. It is an ale from Belgium with golden colour similar to that of hay. Looks beautiful when served in an over sized wine glass with a large white foam on top of the golden layer. It tastes amazing as well, for its soothing citrus tang added with a tinge of green apple flavour.</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Leffe</i></b>, again a Belgian beer brewed with some nice floral notes. There 6-7 varieties of this beer, and the one in the picture is Leffe Blonde with 6.6% of alcohol by volume. The other types include Leffe Brune (6.5% ABV), Leffe Triple (8.5% ABV), Leffe Radieuse and Leffe Vieille Cuvée (both 8.4% ABV), Leffe 9 (9% ABV), Leffe Ruby (5% ABV), Leffe Christmas (6.6% ABV) - content courtesy: Wikipedia.org</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><i><b>Strongbow</b></i>, this is not any rum, whisky, vodka, wine or beer. It is cider and can be drank like a juice, one glass enough to give you an enjoyable high. A cider is basically an alcoholic beverage made from apples - <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cider" target="_blank">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cider</a><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><i><b>The Isle of Jura</b></i> - <i>Taareef karun kya uski, jisne isse banaya.</i> The most amazing single malt whisky I had. I got to know about this when I was touring Scotland. Jura is an island in Scotland, in the Inner Hebrides, from where this wonder originates. Isle of Jura is a smooth and graceful dry malt, with a honey and/or coffee like taste. I had once thrived on the "<i>king of good times"</i>, however, this truly is the <i>"emperor of all times"</i>.<br />
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Cheers!!!<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Drink Responsibly; Don't Drink & Drive</b></span><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7