Facts n Fiction

Important: Please read my earlier post on Timesjobs.com . The reference to context will then be simpler. My experience with Timesjobs.com has been vexatious. It has almost turned out to be like "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" . 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" 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. 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). However, I still made a brave, despondent attempt to "UNSUBSCRIBE" f...

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. That is not entirely true Mr. Chavan! 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. 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 movi...

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. 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 w...

Dear TimesJobs, 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. 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. 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. What surprises me? In spite of having unsubscribed, I still receive some idiotic job alerts. In that email I click on the “ Unsubscribe ” link, and then the portal takes me to a page where it says “ your profile is incomplete; enter the following details to complete registration ”. Now when my profile is incomplete, how and why do I receive job alerts, which I certainly don’t require...

I am happy, terribly happy. Relieved actually! 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. I understand that Agneepath is not an ancestral-dynastical-protégé , 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 – Scarface (let Bollywood make one million remakes, but I doubt anyone can match the magic of Brian De Palma and Oliver Stone , or even Howard Hawks and Ben Hecht – original writers of the 1932 film of same name). Yash Johar would have been insane to equate Vijay Dinanath Chauhan to Tony Montana . Amitabh did no wonders either; Rani M...

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. 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. What I found? Ah! I thought her to be Leonardo's Monalisa but she turned out to be - "arey he tar Deshpandenchi Monalisa" Ain't she...?

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. 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. 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 t...

(Alert – this article contains contentious viewpoints with some harsh language; if this does not suit your taste, please refrain from reading further) 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. 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”. Such books and writings claim to improve confidence, boost moral, ch...

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. Worried, I thought, have I forgotten to laugh and smile? Is the stressful corporate life taking a toll on me? However, there is something or the other since today morning that has constantly kept my funny bones tickling. It all started with the early morning news – India’s cricketing Eves outsmart the ...

Mangta hoon to deti nahi Jawaab meri baat ka Deti hai to khada ho jaata hai Roum roum jazzbaat ka Wo kehti hai dheere daalo Baalon mein phool gulaab ka Daalte hi fisal jaata hai Haathon se phool gulaab ka Abhi to uski khuli na thi Zubaan ikraar ke liye Lo mere khada ho gaya Haath namashkaar ke liye

Almost a fortnight ago when I saw a half page newspaper ad about Mahesh Manjrekar’s new movie, “Laalbaug Parel” . 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 – “Girangaon Naakaa” , based on a similar theme, may be. ‘Girangaon’ seems to be the flavour of creativity these days. 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 ‘Diwali Annk’ 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 fi...

Well certainly indeed! This is for Pune IPL team.

I went to a party Mom, I remembered what you said. You told me not to drink, Mom, So I drank soda instead. I really felt proud inside, Mom, The way you said I would. I didn't drink and drive, Mom, Even though the others said I should. I know I did the right thing, Mom, I know you are always right. Now the party is finally ending, Mom, As everyone is driving out of sight. As I got into my car, Mom, I knew I'd get home in one piece. Because of the way you raised me, So responsible and sweet. I started to drive away, Mom, But as I pulled out into the road, The other car didn't see me, Mom, And hit me like a load. As I lay there on the pavement, Mom, I hear the policeman say, "The other guy is drunk," Mom, And now I'm the one who will pay. I'm lying here dying, Mom.... I wish you'd get here soon. How could this happen to me, Mom? My life just burst like a balloon. There is blood all around me, Mom, And most of it is mine...

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 – SACHIN TENDULKAR , the only one after Wasim Akram. I never thought I would write on a topic of cricket, however, this legend has compelled me to do so. 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 excitem...

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. 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, "Every Dog Has Its Day" . Also, for the unfathomable love that I have have for canines, I could not resist myself from posting this to my blog. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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 received a call this morning. I had a hearty laugh after that. 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 Lata Didi to Rani Mukherjee to Amrish Puri . 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. The call that I received this morning was from some institution dealing in online share trading, DEMAT accounts etc. She: Good morning Sir, I am calling from XYZ. Do you have a DEMAT account sir? Me: Good morning Ma’am. Yes She: Aap kiska DEMAT account use karte hai Sir? (Whose DEMAT account do you use Sir? Well, she must have meant which institution’s account...

I had written about an English speaking institute, sometime in November last year. Certainly, there was something peculiar about it. Refresh it (optional) - http://amolsviews.blogspot.com/2009/11/speak-well-but-spell-ill.html :-] 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. “Hi, 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. 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. 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 wel...

All characters in this story may appear to be fictitious.  Any resemblance to real persons, living, dead, or missing could be surprisingly coincidental. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Virar station, 7pm, Andu (pronounced as UNDO) and Bandu (as BUNDO) were waiting for some other friends to arrive. They all were to go for a picnic near Arnala beach. 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 darshan of that beauty. And they both smiled, rather laughed at each other. “Men will be men,” roared Bandu and they burst out into a thunderous laughter again. Andu and Bandu both are 30 something shaadi-shuda guys, not to each other ofcourse – happily married, not gay-ly . Like the scene at the Virar station, there are many coincidences of them liking th...