Facts n Fiction

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 Mukhe

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 men.

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