<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583</id><updated>2011-07-28T23:10:33.567+05:30</updated><category term='dead goat'/><category term='no squealing'/><category term='businessman'/><title type='text'>PRADEEP'S PENSIEVE</title><subtitle type='html'>A place for penning my observations, introspection and expressions.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-5247456319615887459</id><published>2009-05-16T15:37:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-17T00:27:23.020+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='businessman'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dead goat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='no squealing'/><title type='text'>No Squealing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A city boy, Ram, moved to the countryside and bought a goat from an old farmer for Rs 1000. The farmer agreed to deliver the goat the next day. But the next morning the farmer went to Ram and said, "Sorry son, but i have some bad news. The goat died last nite." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ram replied, "Well then, just give me back my money."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The farmer said, "Can't do that. I have spent it already."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ram said, "Ok then, just unload the goat."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The farmer asked, "What are you going to do with a dead goat?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ram: "I'm going to raffle him off."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Farmer: "You can't raffle a dead goat!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ram: "Sure I can. Watch me. I just won't tell anybody he's dead."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A month later the farmer met Ram and asked, "What did you do with that dead goat?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ram: "I raffled him off. I sold 500 tickets at Rs 10 apiece and made a profit of Rs 3990, net of the Rs 1000 I paid you." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Farmer: "Didn't anyone complain?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ram: Just the guy who won. So I gave him back his Rs 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- from "Games Indians Play" by V. Raghunathan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-5247456319615887459?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/5247456319615887459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=5247456319615887459' title='45 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/5247456319615887459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/5247456319615887459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2009/05/no-squealing.html' title='No Squealing'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>45</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-8582715390912456676</id><published>2007-07-25T19:46:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-01-27T11:02:21.601+05:30</updated><title type='text'>SIMON &amp; GARFUNKEL</title><content type='html'>Tom &amp;amp; Jerry, as they are also known, among geriatric circles, kidding !!! ...Tom &amp;amp; Jerry 's music &amp;amp; lyrics still stand the test of time. I can't claim to have had access to LPs by Simon &amp;amp; Garfunkel. I dare say - I was more or less stuck on their tapes in my wonder years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are my favorite songs, as rendered by Simon and Garfunkel, in no particular order -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Cecelia - you're breaking my what ? ho-hum lyrics, but foot-tapping music, catchy tune&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rL83-ljQiMo"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rL83-ljQiMo" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Rhodes/9574/lyrics_cecelia.htm"&gt;Cecelia-lyrics&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) El Condor Pasa - minimalist lyrics&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kSUfq1t7Ztk"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kSUfq1t7Ztk" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Rhodes/9574/lyrics_el_condor_oasa.htm"&gt;El Condor Pasa-lyrics&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) A Simple Desultory Phillipic OR How I Was Robert McNamara'd Into Submission&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simply superb lyrics, des paroles incroyable !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Rhodes/9574/lyrics_a_simple_desultory_philippic.htm"&gt;Lyrics&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) America - contrast this with Rammstein's stupid song by the same name&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this song - especially the part which goes - "...She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy, I said " His bowtie's really a camera..."" &amp;amp; "toss me a cigarette...", no subliminal or direct messages intended. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Rhodes/9574/lyrics_america.htm"&gt;America-Lyrics&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) At the zoo - oh why didn't I mug this one up when I was in 7th standard. And why did I get wheedled into elocutions where I'm expected to speak about Zoos &amp;amp; animals. I had a classic-case of wobbly knees, frogs in my throat &amp;amp; tongue-tied-ness. Fate, albeit imposing and alarming, without being conscientiously partial, paved the path for better speeches to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/RqdmZvWQJTI/AAAAAAAAACA/AeihuSWf37k/s1600-h/Zoo+Snooze.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/RqdmZvWQJTI/AAAAAAAAACA/AeihuSWf37k/s320/Zoo+Snooze.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091150496158197042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Rhodes/9574/lyrics_at_the_zoo.htm"&gt;At the zoo-lyrics&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) The Dangling Conversation - I just love the lyrics of this song. I was really impressed by this song, when I was younger. So much so that, I feel inclined to paste them here -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;big&gt;It's a still life water color,&lt;br /&gt;  Of a now late afternoon,&lt;br /&gt;  As the sun shines through the curtained lace&lt;br /&gt;  And shadows wash the room.&lt;br /&gt;  And we sit and drink our coffee&lt;br /&gt;  Couched in our indifference,&lt;br /&gt;  Like shells upon the shore&lt;br /&gt;  You can hear the ocean roar&lt;br /&gt;  In the dangling conversation&lt;br /&gt;  And the superficial sighs,&lt;br /&gt;  The borders of our lives. &lt;/big&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;strong&gt;&lt;big&gt;And you read your Emily Dickinson,&lt;br /&gt;  And I my Robert Frost,&lt;br /&gt;  And we note our place with bookmarkers&lt;br /&gt;  That measure what we've lost.&lt;br /&gt;  Like a poem poorly written&lt;br /&gt;  We are verses out of rhythm,&lt;br /&gt;  Couplets out of rhyme,&lt;br /&gt;  In syncopated time&lt;br /&gt;  And the dangled conversation&lt;br /&gt;  And the superficial sighs,&lt;br /&gt;  Are the borders of our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Yes, we speak of things that matter,&lt;br /&gt;  With words that must be said,&lt;br /&gt;  "Can analysis be worthwhile?"&lt;br /&gt;  "Is the theater really dead?"&lt;br /&gt;  And how the room is softly faded&lt;br /&gt;  And I only kiss your shadow,&lt;br /&gt;  I cannot feel your hand,&lt;br /&gt;  You're a stranger now unto me&lt;br /&gt;  Lost in the dangling conversation.&lt;br /&gt;  And the superficial sighs,&lt;br /&gt;  In the borders of our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;"We note our place with bookmarkers, that measure what we've lost." :-) GEM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always knew who Robert Frost was, but I used to wonder who Emily Dickinson was.&lt;br /&gt;Here's a version of this song that I found on YouTube -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/w6W7xX-se1M"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/w6W7xX-se1M" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) CLOUDY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of their better songs, I like the last para, for its lyric &amp;amp; its music's semi-crescendo, which goes something like this -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;strong&gt;     Hey sunshine&lt;br /&gt;   I haven't seen you in a long time.&lt;br /&gt;   Why don't you show your face and bend my mind?&lt;br /&gt;   These clouds stick to the sky&lt;br /&gt;   Like floating questions, why?&lt;br /&gt;   And they linger there to die.&lt;br /&gt;   They don't know where they are going, and, my friend, neither do I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me to the burning question, why should I ignore the other stanzas !!! Without much ado -&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;        &lt;big&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cloudy&lt;br /&gt;   The sky is gray and white and cloudy,&lt;br /&gt;   Sometimes I think it's hanging down on me.&lt;br /&gt;   And it's a hitchhike a hundred miles.&lt;br /&gt;   I'm a rag-a-muffin child.&lt;br /&gt;   Pointed finger-painted smile.&lt;br /&gt;   I left my shadow waiting down the road for me a while.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   Cloudy&lt;br /&gt;   My thoughts are scattered and they're cloudy,&lt;br /&gt;   They have no borders, no boundaries.&lt;br /&gt;   They echo and they swell&lt;br /&gt;   From Tolstoy to Tinker Bell.&lt;br /&gt;   Down from Berkeley to Carmel.&lt;br /&gt;   Got some pictures in my pocket and a lot of time to kill. ....&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;big&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/big&gt;8) &lt;strong style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;big&gt;The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A catchy jingle - "I'm dappled &amp;amp; drowsy &amp;amp; ready to sleep" with a groovy note, sounds really anticlimactic, reminds me of a few college night-outs. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Rhodes/9574/lyrics_feelin_groovy.htm"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Rhodes/9574/lyrics_feelin_groovy.htm"&gt;LYRICS&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) HOMEWARD BOUND&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An excellent song that I associate with (no points for guessing) going home -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;big&gt;     I'm sittin' in the railway station&lt;br /&gt;   Got a ticket for my destination&lt;br /&gt;   On a tour of one night stands&lt;br /&gt;   My suitcase and guitar in hand&lt;br /&gt;   And every stop is neatly planned&lt;br /&gt;   For a poet and a one man band&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   Homeward bound&lt;br /&gt;   I wish I was&lt;br /&gt;   Homeward bound&lt;br /&gt;   Home, where my thought's escaping&lt;br /&gt;   Home, where my music's playing&lt;br /&gt;   Home, where my love lies waiting&lt;br /&gt;   Silently for me&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   Everyday's an endless stream&lt;br /&gt;   Of cigarettes and magazines&lt;br /&gt;   And each town looks the same to me&lt;br /&gt;   The movies and the factories&lt;br /&gt;   And every stranger's face I see&lt;br /&gt;   Reminds me that I long to be&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   Homeward bound&lt;br /&gt;   I wish I was&lt;br /&gt;   Homeward bound&lt;br /&gt;   Home, where my thought's escaping&lt;br /&gt;   Home, where my music's playing&lt;br /&gt;   Home, where my love lies waiting&lt;br /&gt;   Silently for me&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   Tonight I'll sing my songs again&lt;br /&gt;   I'll play the game and pretend&lt;br /&gt;   But all my words come back to me&lt;br /&gt;   In shades of mediocrity&lt;br /&gt;   Like emptyness in harmony&lt;br /&gt;   I need someone to comfort me&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   Homeward bound&lt;br /&gt;   I wish I was&lt;br /&gt;   Homeward bound&lt;br /&gt;   Home, where my thought's escaping&lt;br /&gt;   Home, where my music's playing&lt;br /&gt;   Home, where my love lies waiting&lt;br /&gt;   Silently for me&lt;br /&gt;   Silently for me&lt;br /&gt;   Silently for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;"A poet &amp;amp; a one-man band" indeed. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) THE SOUND OF SILENCE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello darkness, my old friend!!! One of my favorite songs - I like the fourth stanza a lot -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These lyrics seem to echo in my mind, every time I hear the sound of silence -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;big&gt;Hello, darkness, my old friend&lt;br /&gt;   I've come to talk with you again&lt;br /&gt;   Because a vision softly creeping&lt;br /&gt;   Left its seeds while I was sleeping&lt;br /&gt;   And the vision&lt;br /&gt;   That was planted in my brain&lt;br /&gt;   Still remains&lt;br /&gt;   Within the sound of silence&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   In restless dreams I walked alone&lt;br /&gt;   Narrow streets of cobblestone&lt;br /&gt;   Beneath the halo of a street lamp&lt;br /&gt;   I turned my collar to the cold and damp&lt;br /&gt;   When my eyes were stabbed&lt;br /&gt;   By the flash of a neon light&lt;br /&gt;   That split the night&lt;br /&gt;   And touched the sound of silence&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   And in the naked light I saw&lt;br /&gt;   Ten thousand people, maybe more&lt;br /&gt;   People talking without speaking&lt;br /&gt;   People hearing without listening&lt;br /&gt;   People writing songs that voices never share...&lt;br /&gt;   And no one dare&lt;br /&gt;   Disturb the sound of silence.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   "Fools," said I, "you do not know&lt;br /&gt;   Silence like a cancer grows."&lt;br /&gt;   "Hear my words that I might teach you,&lt;br /&gt;   Take my arms that I might reach you."&lt;br /&gt;   But my words like silent raindrops fell,&lt;br /&gt;   And echoed in the wells of silence.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   And the people bowed and prayed&lt;br /&gt;   To the neon god they made.&lt;br /&gt;   And the sign flashed out its warning&lt;br /&gt;   In the words that it was forming.&lt;br /&gt;   And the signs said: "The words of the prophets&lt;br /&gt;   Are written on the subway walls&lt;br /&gt;   And tenement halls,&lt;br /&gt;   And whisper'd in the sound of silence."&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) SCARBOROUGH FAIR/CANTICLE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No piece on Tom &amp;amp; Jerry is complete without Canticle. Seems like an inspired effort to keep the listeners glued to the 70s and the 80s. Somehow reminds me of "Dead Poet's Society" - synesthesia anyone ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;big&gt;Are you going to Scarborough Fair?&lt;br /&gt;   Parsley, sage, rosemary &amp;amp; thyme&lt;br /&gt;   Remember me to one who lives there&lt;br /&gt;   She once was a true love of mine&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   Tell her to make me a cambric shirt&lt;br /&gt;   (On the side of a hill in the deep forest green)&lt;br /&gt;   Parsely, sage, rosemary &amp;amp; thyme&lt;br /&gt;   (Tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground)&lt;br /&gt;   Without no seams nor needlework&lt;br /&gt;   (Blankets and bedclothes a child of the mountains)&lt;br /&gt;   Then she'll be a true love of mine&lt;br /&gt;   (Sleeps unaware of the clarion call)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   Tell her to find me an acre of land&lt;br /&gt;   (On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves)&lt;br /&gt;   Parsely, sage, rosemary, &amp;amp; thyme&lt;br /&gt;   (Washed is the ground with so many tears)&lt;br /&gt;   Between the salt water and the sea strand&lt;br /&gt;   (A soldier cleans and polishes a gun)&lt;br /&gt;   Then she'll be a true love of mine&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather&lt;br /&gt;   (War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions)&lt;br /&gt;   Parsely, sage, rosemary &amp;amp; thyme&lt;br /&gt;   (Generals order their soldiers to kill)&lt;br /&gt;   And to gather it all in a bunch of heather&lt;br /&gt;   (And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten)&lt;br /&gt;   Then she'll be a true love of mine&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;   Are you going to Scarborough Fair?&lt;br /&gt;   Parsley, sage, rosemary &amp;amp; thyme&lt;br /&gt;   Remember me to one who lives there&lt;br /&gt;   She once was a true love of mine....&lt;/big&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-8582715390912456676?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/8582715390912456676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=8582715390912456676' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/8582715390912456676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/8582715390912456676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/07/simon-garfunkel.html' title='SIMON &amp; GARFUNKEL'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/RqdmZvWQJTI/AAAAAAAAACA/AeihuSWf37k/s72-c/Zoo+Snooze.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-1949553685000685037</id><published>2007-06-03T03:10:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-06-22T14:57:39.128+05:30</updated><title type='text'>MANI's RATNAMs - 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1) PALLAVI ANUPALLAVI&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/RmHs30PIEwI/AAAAAAAAABo/_qUXbcpmkds/s1600-h/Pallavi-Anu-Pallavi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/RmHs30PIEwI/AAAAAAAAABo/_qUXbcpmkds/s320/Pallavi-Anu-Pallavi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071595099054936834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets start at the very beginning&lt;br /&gt;A very good place to start -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mani Ratnam debuted with a Kannada film, which goes by the name - "Pallavi Anupallavi". A little background on the name would befit the occasion - Kritis in Carnatic Music have three segments or stanzas - Pallavi (illustrates the lower range of raga), Anupallavi (illustrates the contrasting upper range of the raga) &amp; the Charanam ( I have never seen this feature-film. But from what I see and hear, it can't be worse than "Dil Se".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Interestingly enough, it features Anil Kapoor in the lead role. A definite 80s touch seems to have been imparted to this film, with the boundaries of family values being delineated, sometimes even redrawn &amp;amp; redefined. The plot roughly meanders around the lives of three people, with a chap having bequeathed his love to one woman  &amp; investigating his relationship with another older woman(a single-mom), played by Lakshmi, (of Julie fame ;-), yeah right :D, typical intro to an 80s story, sounds like a cross between a film starring Mohan &amp; another starring Vishu).&lt;br /&gt;The film delves not only into the angst of the contemporary youth then, but also into the bonds between father &amp;amp; daughter and mother &amp; son and divorce (which remains to this day a social taboo).&lt;br /&gt;Also starring Master Rohit &amp;amp; Kiran Vairale.&lt;br /&gt;Movie flopped commercially. Must have been disastrous for Mani. Perhaps it was testing ground for more commercially viable pieces to come (in Tamil). However, Mani won the Karnataka State Award for Best Screenplay for this movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the lush locales of Bangalore ( lush back-then :-(  ) &amp; Markara being employed as settings for this film, one could expect a pleasant visual experience. Be fore-warned - Don't expect fairy-tale endings.&lt;br /&gt;Mani roped in ace Balu Mahendra for cinematography &amp;amp; maestro Ilayaraja for some very fine music indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For your listening pleasure -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://ww.smashits.com/music/kannada/songs/377/pallavi-anupallavi.html"&gt;Songs from Pallavi Anupallavi&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Nagu enthithe&lt;/span&gt;..." on YouTube. Its a real sugarcube of a video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/N93Bk-NP308" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;2) UNARU&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/RmthjB5eBhI/AAAAAAAAABw/bcEXO5VuJfU/s1600-h/Unaru.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/RmthjB5eBhI/AAAAAAAAABw/bcEXO5VuJfU/s320/Unaru.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5074256659595789842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mani's second wind. Its like the character Prof. Gnanaprakasam, from a recent flick called "Mozhi", says - "Mani Ratnam - brilliant boy. Mark my words, he'll come up trumps. (Ivan oru naal periya aal a varuvan - transliterated askew but fits the bill)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd hoped to find a Tamil movie. But the die had been cast &amp; history's already been written. Malayalam was the language in which the movie was shot. Having never seen this film, I had to resort to crawling web-pages that describe this movie. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As to what "Unaru" means, my speculations lead me to believe - "Arise".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Here's what I found &amp;amp; liked about this movie -&lt;br /&gt;I liked the theme in particular - it assumed a Machiavellian hue as opposed to "Pallavi Anupallavi" and the director besotted himself with portraying life or something like it from within the ranks of red Kerala's Trade-Unions. Escape from Poverty and Unemployment are depicted as being synonymous with blatant political overtones and alignment with Trade Unions. In particular I read of a scene where Mohanlal, with his grand on-screen presence, presumably the protagonist, arrives at a town, goes to a tea-stall and asks for tea. In return he's asked which political party he belongs to. Upon riposting &amp; conveying his non-alignedness, the tea-stall owner retorts that if such was the case, he can't serve him tea! Throw in a bit of religious fanaticism and mallu-charm and you have the skeleton of Unaroo/Unaru. Gotta have More cowbell. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;3) GITANJALI&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/Rnt_fB5eBiI/AAAAAAAAAB4/mHnp5lWI4TI/s1600-h/Gitanjali.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/Rnt_fB5eBiI/AAAAAAAAAB4/mHnp5lWI4TI/s320/Gitanjali.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078793175852516898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;What a breath of fresh-air ! I saw this movie in Telugu and didn't bother to see the Tamil version of it called "Idhayathai Thirudaathe". I remembered the songs in these films, partly because they were played at home, quite often, on the tape-recorder in the 90s. I had a creepy-crawly, hair-stood-up-on-the-back-of-my-neck flashback moment as the theme song "O Priya Priya/I Love You" was introduced while the title and credits rolled out(at the beginning of the film).&lt;br /&gt;What I didn't remember was that this film was about two terminally-ill patients. Nagarjuna enacts and embodies the rowdy college-goer to perfection in the first few scenes of the movie...reminds me of Shiva (not a Mani-Ratnam movie, but a RamGopal Verma venture, his first to be precise).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The accident soon follows (after a foot-tapping number called "Jagada Jagada", plagiarized in RamGopal Verma's new Shiva as "Hosh mei, josh mei or whatever") and Nagarjuna gets a glimpse of the sorry future that lies ahead of him. His spirits sag but in the lead-up, the dialogue bears trenchant wit even as he asks the doctor to marry him, since he is well and fully-recovered.&lt;br /&gt;Nagarjuna's character Prakash decides to take a trip to Ooty, far from the madding crowd, as a possible recourse to choking and fading away to non-existence in the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scene shifts to a girl dancing her heart out as it rains over the plains and the hills and the vales (stop!). Nice catchy number. However, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;in my impressionable days, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;as I'd shied away from Telugu and adopted Tamil instead, I seemed to have caught only "kaavali" from this song. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So she wants something, eh ? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Just kidding, the song's called "Jallantha Kavvintha". Gitanjali (played by Girija, where did she disappear? ) ends up late for a meal &amp; is asked to leave the table by her loving and caring dad (played by Vijaykumar, does he speak Telugu? I don't know, I've seen him in many a Tamil movie. I guess AP is only across the border. So no bother.) . Again, Mani's direction and Girija's kiddishness shine as Gita gathers food from her siblings and manages to slip out unnoticed were it not for - ok ok too much detail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aamani Paadave Haayigaa" is a wonderful song picturised on Nagarjuna, who folds his arms around his body to protect himself from the cold &amp;amp; takes a casual stroll across the mountains and the plains and the hi...(choke) Ooty's scenic beauty, but he manages to convey a picture of Devdas too ;) - damn here's where I curse myself coz I can't understand a thing that Veturi's intending to convey in Telugu. He is promptly followed by Gita and gang, who make quips and joke about his bearing and mannerisms and disappear into the all-pervading Ooty mist. An interesting scene ensues when Prakash visits the local hospital.&lt;br /&gt;Boy meets girl. Girl fakes it. Boy scares girl. Girl cribs to grannie saying boy wants them to elope from that hill-station. Grannie reprimands boy. Boy follows through and actually kidnaps girl. ;-) tadadadaaa boy gets to know girl's terminally ill. This is the second layer and brings interesting perspective into play. Gita doesn't get to know of Prakash's malady (of body &amp; of discontent ;-)) yet. Prakash is stunned at Gita's vivacity and liveliness and is equally stunned at Gita's nonchalance in saying everyone dies at some point in time and its just that she's destined to die a few years before them. She'd rather live in the present than in the future. Love happens. A rather poignant depiction of their love and the theme song - "O Priya Priya" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;in a Laila-Mejnun fashion,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; is preceded by SPB &amp; Chitra's awesome rendering of "OmNamaha", that whole song where they share a kiss (or more) in a room that fills up with Ooty's ethereal mist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rudely interjected into the film are a few irrelevent, irreverent, coarse and bawdy humor-sequences. Please get your formula right well in time before Roja. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A stoic performance from Sowcar Janaki too, who plays Prakash's mom. The end may not be worth watching. The third eventual layer must come when Gita learns of Prakash's terminal illness. And you might not be blamed for missing all scenes &amp;amp; songs save one - "O Paapa Laali".  :-) Ilayaraja's music serves that creamy upper-layer to an altogether enjoyable movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.raaga.com/channels/telugu/movie/A0000107.html"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Music from Gitanjali here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's "Aamani Paadave Haayigaa" -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-oWVkGo8L_s"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-oWVkGo8L_s" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's "O Priya Priya" -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oFa7TobDJsw"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oFa7TobDJsw" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's "Jallantha..." -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oFa7TobDJsw"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NP6F9ApUZ2w" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-1949553685000685037?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/1949553685000685037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=1949553685000685037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/1949553685000685037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/1949553685000685037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/06/manis-ratnams-1.html' title='MANI&apos;s RATNAMs - 1'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/RmHs30PIEwI/AAAAAAAAABo/_qUXbcpmkds/s72-c/Pallavi-Anu-Pallavi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-711912481541211719</id><published>2007-03-13T00:13:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-19T00:26:17.374+05:30</updated><title type='text'>VEGGIE RESTAURANTS in BANGALORE</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mast Kalandar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/RfWqEA9flHI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EQdsDvXQSl0/s1600-h/MastKalandar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/RfWqEA9flHI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EQdsDvXQSl0/s320/MastKalandar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041122343865259122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the ides of March 2006, when my taste buds had been reduced to unmasking tastes between spoonfuls of oil, I chanced upon visiting this restaurant shrouded in a smart hoarding speaking orange and red, tucked away in an unassuming corner of Koramangala on 80 Feet Road. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed this place before, after having lived practically right next door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I detest overdoses of oil, generous golden drops of taste and fortune they very well may be, but they do clog arteries. I was pleasantly surprised at the ubiquitous accompaniment of Dahi &amp; dry salad with almost all dishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The menu comprises mostly North Indian dishes. There are special items on the menu during festivals of Holi &amp;amp; Dushahara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You could start at the very beginning with one of their special starters - "Chatori Chat" a combo of puri swathed in green chutney &amp; samosa-chat. Enough for 3 I presume, although I wouldn't mind dunking in all of them myself. A lemon-mint cooler or a mango panna / aamras might do you some good in beating the heat this summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorites has always been "Tom, Dick &amp;amp; Harry" combo. You don't get any of the standard side-dishes in this combo such as those with "Balle Balle Pindi Chole", "Baingan Ka Bartha" or "Tangy Dum Aloo" with them, but you do get to choose three different parathas - I normally go for Mooli, Healthy Sprouts, Xing Shing, Aloo paratha - a combo thereof. I prefer Dal Makhani (which is well-made) to Dal Tadka...:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not particularly fond of rice-dishes (Its just rice!!!)Probably a bit of South Indian upbringing went into that-having eaten Sambar &amp; kootu &amp;amp; curd rice for over a decade, life sure seems different ;). You might want to try the Biryani out. You may rest assured that no pieces of meat made their way into your biryani. There's something the Hyderabadi House might not be able to offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favorite Dessert - I like the standard Gulab Jamun + Icecream combo. Never have had a Gulab Jamun here that didn't have a raisin/pista/almond inside. Can't wonder what my friends see in the aamras / aam ka panna?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their ambience takes away all the redness &amp; orangeness too form the food. No stupid overdose of garam masala or oil(did I fail to mention?) makes for a sumptuous dinner at affordable prices. Its really crowded on weekends. Be there at 7 PM or else prepare to wait for some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The damage done for a decent meal(dinner) is not too high - I'd put it at around 150 bucks per person topside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Their Billing seems innovative. You pay in advance &amp;amp; hand the bill over to the folks in red &amp; orange. It lets them serve you better, without having to keep track of real-time orders.&lt;br /&gt;Mast Kalandar seems to be the brain-child of IT professionals who boldly delineated a market-space for veggie food and went where few would have ventured. Good Job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Little Italy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/Rk3tXEPIEpI/AAAAAAAAAAw/QRK19QM5wf4/s1600-h/LittleItaly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/Rk3tXEPIEpI/AAAAAAAAAAw/QRK19QM5wf4/s320/LittleItaly.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065966136391635602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little Italy caught my fancy because it happens to serve veggie Italian cuisine with wine. Being brought up in and around a conservative city, its quite impossible to dream of wine being administered in a Pure veggie resto - call it a culture shock. :-)  The outdoor candle-lit ambience greets one as one enters the restaurant. Reservations in advance are counselled, especially in the weekends. If you're the indoors type - well step right in and say goodbye to windy or rainy conditions. I loved the time when my cousin and I had been to this place and the family sitting in the centre, was kind enough to extend a few slices of Birthday Cake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Californian Red Wine was good, albeit a tad expensive. I had had it with a pasta preparation and a pizza (adhering to the true spirit of the pizza - "&lt;/span&gt;A baked pie of Italian origin consisting of a shallow breadlike crust covered with toppings such as seasoned tomato sauce, cheese, sausage, or olives.", and very unlike the chunky bread they serve in Pizza-Hut or Dominoes) &lt;span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;I also hear the Tequila-cocktail they serve up is refreshing. One of the best places to extract a treat. A good meal works out to around 250 bucks per person + 450 bucks or so for the wine. ;-)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This baby is tucked away in 100ft road in Indiranagar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Udupi Krishna&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Come Sunday, I'd expect one'd be wondering what one is doing in Bangalore, Karnataka without having visited an Udupi restaurant. Udupi Krishna is a decent Veggie restaurant. Its amicably placed in the JNC Road behind Raheja Arcade. Situated next to a Coffee shop called BrewHaha (yet another cafe' where I have bumped into more than one fellow college acquaintance), this place can boast of a very spacious arrangement of tables. The ambience is lightened with light-flute music pervading the mild environs. The Sunday Special meals is a special favorite of mine. It comprises, among other items, an aperitif - which is normally a seasonal fruit juice concentrate, some kadubu (Spongy Idli-Rice Cakes), baby-masaala-dosas and ice-cream towards the end. It sets you back by around 80 bucks per person. An altogether relaxing experience for a lazy Sunday afternoon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Krishna Cafe'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/Rk3pIUPIEoI/AAAAAAAAAAo/yS4IN9iKb28/s1600-h/KrishnaKafe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/Rk3pIUPIEoI/AAAAAAAAAAo/yS4IN9iKb28/s320/KrishnaKafe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065961484942054018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A very regular haunt of mine, yet another South-Indian resto, not to be confused with the Madurai Idly Shop. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;The idlis here are well-made and the chutney's good. There are a few daily specials - among which I fancy Adai &amp; Avial, rasa-vada &amp;amp; morkozhambu-vada. Better still is the banana-leaf meal served everyday at lunchtime between 12:15 and 3:15 PM - It costs 60 bucks on weekdays and 80 bucks on weekends.&lt;br /&gt;The sweet shop Anand is nearby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madurai Idly Shop - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Good Pongal, not to be found anywhere else but here. Poor Pooris, Good surprise for a sweet in the morning - sweet pongal, carrot halwa, sometimes even jamun. This old haunt's located in Koramangala, a street behind 80 Feet Road, near Koramangala Club.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shanti, Sukh &amp; other Sagars - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;may you Rest in Peace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*LEKKERBEK - Belgian Cafe'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/Rk3uo0PIEqI/AAAAAAAAAA4/4-6t5kaeXrM/s1600-h/Lekkerbek1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/Rk3uo0PIEqI/AAAAAAAAAA4/4-6t5kaeXrM/s320/Lekkerbek1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065967540845941410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is not strictly a vegetarian restaurant but I fell in love with this quiet little place situated on the first floor, down 80ft road, the moment I stepped in &amp; picked up a Tintin comic. :-) Hercule Poirot too is Belgian, you know. (the Belgian detective with the odd egg-shaped head)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I always make it a point to have a Belgian Breakfast and nothing else here. The Belgian breakfast comprises sugary waffles, a chocolate cup-cake, a few pieces of fried potatoes &amp; coffee or tea. I also have a cup of chocolate while reading a second Tintin comic or MAD magazine that are also on display here on the racks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"De Lekkerbek"&lt;belgian&gt;&lt;belgian&gt;&lt;belgian&gt; is a.k.a. &lt;&lt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Le Cafe Terra&lt;/span&gt;&gt;&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/belgian&gt;&lt;/belgian&gt;&lt;/belgian&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Here's their own blog - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://belgiancafe.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://belgiancafe.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Another interesting page - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.anitabora.com/blog/2006/07/24/oh-for-a-taste-of-belgium/"&gt;http://www.anitabora.com/blog/2006/07/24/oh-for-a-taste-of-belgium/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-711912481541211719?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/711912481541211719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/711912481541211719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/veggie-restaurants-in-bangalore.html' title='VEGGIE RESTAURANTS in BANGALORE'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_91m-Jg96XdM/RfWqEA9flHI/AAAAAAAAAAM/EQdsDvXQSl0/s72-c/MastKalandar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-3886185533534008902</id><published>2007-03-13T00:12:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-13T00:12:45.690+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A TYPICAL WEEK AT MY COMPANY</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;A NORMAL WEEK&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;This was a little something I'd sent out to my friends in the Civil engineering batch at IITM. I'd typed this out last Diwali.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;Hi Junta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's wishing all of you a very HAPPY DIWALI in advance.  Do mail in and share your experiences during this Diwali.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess my Diwali is going to be a big wash-out due to a storm off the coast off Chennai. I'm going home for Diwali and so are most of the people in my team at office. I'm working in IBM at Bangalore. Here's a typical week at IBM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week begins with the unavoidable Monday morning nightmare scenario....wherein you wake up and find that you've got potloads of work left to attend to....and a pile of clothes greets you as youwake up....damn forgot to wash'em over the weekend. Plod my way to office, its quite close from where I live....The autos here are unbelievable...they respect the meter...well they actually do (things tend to get a little complicated at night, where the drivers turn the meter the other way and it measures 1.5 times automatically, but I'll leave that bit there) Anybody's better than Chennai autowallas I guess. These autos run on LPG...the auto driver literally sits atop a gas cylinder, tucked under his seat....talk about living dangerously!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try to shy away from the Team Lead and head to my CUBICLE (yes you read it right) there are Cubicles in IT offices..miles of them...scary and imposing at first...but you get used to them...The Dilbert comics were right about one thing....the cubicles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well Monday's when the meetings happen. The Manager seems to appear every hour or so...and pops into the cubicles to check on statuses. The team lead is the boss otherwise. Learning is quite redefined in my company...its such a private burden that you felt better off at IITM...where there was always someone who would clear things for you. We are learning Java, Web SErvices and Unix right now. The repository of gathered information at such a company doesn't fail to impress. Seriously people, these guys have a good intranet facility and lots of books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The week I'd joined, the HR Dept. seems to appear with their bag of surprises and with their beaming faces and puzzles and answers...Ladies and gentlemen, I was in a 5 star hotel, while all this was happening. Ahh! the first week was sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now its back to the regular grind of course...work whizzes past and it needs a very determined effort or some really clever friends around to get past all those codes, bundles, applications and platforms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's always a joke or two that falls back into circulation...I believe there is a mini-book in Landmark which compiles the best SMS jokes and forwards of last year...well all these jokes fall in the same genre...they'll probably make it to that book in its next edition. ITs a daily ritual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a daily quiz kinda thing going on over here. SO that peps  things up a bit for a while anyway.&lt;br /&gt;There's always a TT table that would do  for games to just get away from work....but only in the evenings...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Office is really a pretty sight. We overlook a Golf Course. The lush greenery of Bangalore, which I was promised, seems to materialize before my very eyes as I step out. Its quite a Business Park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day goes by uneventfully. There are the usual patches, security updates and forms for personal evaluation, conduct, insurance and trivia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really know how to cook. Some people say I am missing something...well I just get on with it...now a Shanti Sagar, now an Idli shop, sometimes a rare visit to Andhra Mess and when that burns my tongue up, I revert to my food coupons and douse the fire witha fruit juice or a fruit bowl at Juice Junction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday  kinda feel like you're going throuogh the motions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then Thank God Its Friday. The team wakes up and flutters and spreads its wings...we go out for a treat at the expense of the bakras...who could be birthday boys or girls..or some new joinee who got suckered into throwing a treat. The girls and ladies do put a lot of effort and manage to cook something from home...The guys just cover the main course by buying the sweets and desserts or getting mummiji/bhaabeeji ke haathon se bannaya hua khaana. Some other times its over to the latest buffet that hit the town...and the restaurant finds itself occupied just shy of 30 people who are in the team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the week draws to an end, the party animals confirm their plans and the silent types go home and relax with friends and family...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MG Road's too far off and so are the pubs....Legends of Rock is getting too monotonous...the beer tastes bitter nowadays. Forum is such a familiar sight...Garuda mall's too far off....lets go to Coorg next week...heard that was a nice place...these are some of the best laid plans. Lets see if some of them work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now its raining pretty hard as I type my guts out...and I surmise it won't stop for some more time.(the rain and not the typing) I only hope it doesn't spoil my plans for Diwali.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao  junta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pradeep&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-3886185533534008902?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/3886185533534008902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=3886185533534008902' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/3886185533534008902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/3886185533534008902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/typical-week-at-my-company.html' title='A TYPICAL WEEK AT MY COMPANY'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-439484618495532714</id><published>2007-03-13T00:11:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-13T00:12:09.276+05:30</updated><title type='text'>IMAGINATION</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/1600/fadinglights.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/320/fadinglights.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It so happens with me that I follow a good poem with a bad one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IMAGINATION&lt;br /&gt;-----------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I don't satiate the feeling that grows,&lt;br /&gt;With what courage shall I not miss you?&lt;br /&gt;As time goes by, my heart dips and eventually slows&lt;br /&gt;And my feelings wane out to those vital few.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lights switch off by themselves&lt;br /&gt;And my starved imagination fades&lt;br /&gt;My memories grow larger by themselves&lt;br /&gt;And in them I fear my dead soul wades&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;External Stimulus tickles my ribs&lt;br /&gt;My stomach churns in disgust&lt;br /&gt;I know the response that kicks&lt;br /&gt;But my senses quell it in mistrust&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some gross mismatch allows progress&lt;br /&gt;It stops the small and feeds the large&lt;br /&gt;A cancer in me grows and begins to press&lt;br /&gt;A natural law needn't always help me recharge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize its my imagination that tilts the balance&lt;br /&gt;Now that its on its way out, I try and smile&lt;br /&gt;Knowing too well time's fraudulent cadence&lt;br /&gt;Has pulled a fast one with its usual guile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                - Pradeep&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-439484618495532714?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/439484618495532714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=439484618495532714' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/439484618495532714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/439484618495532714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/imagination.html' title='IMAGINATION'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-6406369535584393184</id><published>2007-03-13T00:10:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-13T00:11:11.928+05:30</updated><title type='text'>INNER PEACE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/1600/waves2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/320/waves2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/1600/Churningfornectar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/320/Churningfornectar.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its contrary to rationality to glorify life with a girl. But I still fantasize, as a part of me refuses to surrender to this incessant pounding on the head following associations with girls and women. Its become too difficult to say nowadays, if I've used any other poet's verse, I dare claim originality and commend my courage too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INNER PEACE&lt;br /&gt;----------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;From heaven above and earth below;&lt;br /&gt;I gather a storm is about to blow;&lt;br /&gt;the girl who said she'd keep good time;&lt;br /&gt;has reconciled her fate to the toss of a dime!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can a kiss on her lips revive her?&lt;br /&gt;Can a tear on her cheek surprise her?&lt;br /&gt;That the tear is not hers would try and test her&lt;br /&gt;my funny tear-stained face would arrest her&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;awake from a long-lasting slumber&lt;br /&gt;i finally found the winning number&lt;br /&gt;its a lottery to win and its worth winning&lt;br /&gt;her freedom's my joy and that sends my head spinning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a teaspoonful of nectar added to an ocean of woes&lt;br /&gt;watch the magic as the nectar's force grows&lt;br /&gt;the ocean stands humbled before your eyes&lt;br /&gt;and sheds a tear, as the great monster cries&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The life now flows through my veins&lt;br /&gt;I feel one with my toils and pains&lt;br /&gt;As happiness and reason guide me to inner peace&lt;br /&gt;I find true love, time vanishes and I rest at ease&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                          -Pradeep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-6406369535584393184?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/6406369535584393184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=6406369535584393184' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/6406369535584393184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/6406369535584393184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/inner-peace.html' title='INNER PEACE'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-6452574786391470213</id><published>2007-03-13T00:08:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-13T00:09:20.698+05:30</updated><title type='text'>SCIENCE, CHARMED</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/1600/science_logo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/320/science_logo.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SCIENCE, CHARMED&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt; If science is a secret, it is because Science and Economics mixed. We aren't secure enought to guarantee which direction our understanding of science shall take us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Science battled Religion. Now it battles Economics. Science is inextricably infused with Economics and Science no longer propels itself. Science has been bound and shackled by finite resources and social tendencies. Utilitarianism, if absolute, can pose an antithetical counterpoint to Science. Tomorrow, should the decision of a million-billion people mould the way Science reveals itself? Science sells but does it do anything else?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Upon much thought, I surmise, Science is primarily a quest and a study. It also sells. Since we can't seem to do away with Utilitarianism and we definitely can't seem to shake off our beliefs regarding Science providing us a competitve advantage, let us guide our utilitarianism and competition outwards, not inwards and not towards each other. Let us progress to a state where we are one with nature, where we exist but don't impose. Let Science not be a study of our vanity and conquests, instead let it marshall our thoughts to equilibriate and unite with Nature. Let us not lose sight while we dwell upon our squalour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Is Science madness? Is there a method to this madness? Science is quite a, if you'll pardon the expression, quiet neighbour. Wars seemed to have tickled it and its laughter spews out an understanding, inventions and a drive. Thus, it reveals itself under oppression and pressure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;In the end, it shall be Resonance that reveals Science. Resonance shall drive scientists to reveal Science. Resonance between thoughts and the impounding questions of Science, with nothing in between to separate them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-6452574786391470213?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/6452574786391470213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=6452574786391470213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/6452574786391470213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/6452574786391470213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/science-charmed.html' title='SCIENCE, CHARMED'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-3437738976027816736</id><published>2007-03-13T00:08:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-19T00:12:05.340+05:30</updated><title type='text'>MONK</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/1600/monk.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/320/monk.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;MONK&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Monk&lt;/span&gt;: "If I'm wrong, which you know I'm not..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;harona : "So you remember how many jelly beans you saw?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Monk&lt;/span&gt;       : "Its a blessing and a curse."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speed Dater Woman : "I like your eyes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Monk&lt;/span&gt;                                : "They came with the face."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sharona : "Adrian! Ths is a picnic. You have to sit on the ground."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Monk&lt;/span&gt;       : "I can't. Animals do things on the ground. Terrible, terrible things."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Adrian Monk&lt;/span&gt;     : "This is my assistant, Sharona"&lt;br /&gt;Ambrose Monk : "Hello, we spoke on the phone."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Adrian Monk&lt;/span&gt;     : "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Oh! so you can dial a telephone! I was worried. I thought you might be paralyzed or something."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ambrose Monk : "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I wasn't paralyzed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Adrian Monk&lt;/span&gt;     : "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I was being sarcastic."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ambrose Monk : "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You were being sardonic. Sarcasm is a contemptuous ironic statement. You were being mockingly derisive. That is sardonic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;There's this guy called MONK. He's got a real bee in his bonnet about certain things. The walking talking freakshow that he is doesn't really stop him from exerting his mental appurtenances on things that creep and hide away from the light shed by the cops. He is "The" Obsessive Compulsive detective. He isn't my role model. But his finicky habits and his idiosyncrasies catch my attention. The little things that he does while letting his thoughts interfere with his actions, can sometimes turn comedy to desperation. A glorious assertion of will and darned good luck pulls him through so many tough times that I truly feel jealous. I feel jealous when I find that I am outdone in local harmony and methods, not to speak of solving crime and murder mysteries, by a person as timid and recessive and yet someone indeficient enough to sink his teeth into the perpetrator of crime and murder. I am proud to introduce the savage among yokels, the bearer of light Prometheus in a world drowning and half-drowning in bucketfuls of darkness, the killer of doubt and confusion, the saviour of the hapless, the protector of the clueless; without further ado, I give you, Ladies and Gentlemen - Adrian Monk.&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His fears consume him: from the tiniest specks testing his frail mental state to snakes, elevators, needles, mushrooms and milk which terrify him mortally. The trump order goes like this &lt;/span&gt;germs, needles, milk, death, snakes, mushrooms, heights, crowds and elevators. &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt; The special ways deviced to avoid handling such situations are a visual treat. Personally, I don't take pride in grinning at other people's discomfiture. But a rather advanced trait of rationality endows me with the fine sense to appreciate a Monk, when I see one. His frayed edges are ascribed to the inability to pull himself out of the loss of the character who happened to be his wife. He has a smarter brother called Ambrose Monk. His nurse and friend, Sharona Fleming (now replaced by Natalie Teeger) and his ex-boss Captain Stottlemeyer add sanity to his colorful yet fragmenting world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;His attempts to solve his wife's murder lead him through the series, as he hops along solving many cases on the way. Tony Shaloub plays the inimitable Monk. By the way Adrian Monk is a fictitious detective who used to work with the SF police Department and he features on USA Network &amp;amp; STAR-WORLD.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-3437738976027816736?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/3437738976027816736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=3437738976027816736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/3437738976027816736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/3437738976027816736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/monk.html' title='MONK'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-4328774266861818891</id><published>2007-03-13T00:08:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-13T00:08:14.352+05:30</updated><title type='text'>TINKLE IN THE LOOP</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/1600/tinkle.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/320/tinkle.2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;TINKLE IN THE LOOP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;This one just flashed in a dark moment of despair. I normally remember paradoxes in these circumsances. The Chicken and Egg situation highlighted itself in this case and then it eventually led me to a silly trick Raghu played on his smart-alec friend at school to elicit a treat and to put him in his rightful place. For those who came in late, Raghu is a character who figures in Tinkle Digest. An indianised version of Henry, the boy who doesn't speak. But smarter of course. :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;The friend is a maths whiz and for some reason he can't seem to stop making complex calculations. This spills over; well, after all he is just a little kid. Raghu, who happens to be in the neighbourhood, decides it is time to let his friend suck brick. He comes up with a puzzle for the friend to solve.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;Well the puzzle is this, in Raghu's own words, "There are three ducks walking; The first duck says - there's a couple of ducks behind me, the last duck says there are a couple of ducks ahead of me and the duck in between says there are two ducks behind me and two ducks ahead of me. How do you think that's possible?" Raghu, of course, lets his friend digest the question. The poor friend gives up on it at long last and reluctantly parts with five rupees, which Raghu uses up, eventually, to buy an ice-cream. Raghu, with a twinkle in his eye, is only too quick to answer "The second duck lied", after having collected his winnings!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);"&gt;The ducks could be walking in a circle and the second duck needn't have lied. ;) Whats wrong with good-ol' smartie-pants?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-4328774266861818891?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/4328774266861818891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=4328774266861818891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/4328774266861818891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/4328774266861818891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/tinkle-in-loop.html' title='TINKLE IN THE LOOP'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-3653230774591766530</id><published>2007-03-13T00:06:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-13T00:10:31.930+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A KNOTTY ISSUE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/1600/waituntildark.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/320/waituntildark.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p  style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); text-align: justify;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;What’s missing today? The Game Show&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Welcome to the Real World. Lights fade and switch on to blind you. As the curtains are raised, you see a magician has popped into your view. Speculations of his pockets being filled with tricks and rabbits are rife. His sleaze oils its way into your confidence. You find his friendly hand on your shoulder. Something’s amiss. A dodge and a duck seem to have given me cold feet. One’s thoughts seem to warp around and into this magician. He is a gravitational center. His being forces you to relax and loosen up. The slick smile plays up to bringing one on your face. A good guy? Something urges me to brake, step back in time before the curtains started moving. A background voice seemed to float about, prancing around my ears, mellow and yet not lacking in desperation. Before the voice there seemed to be a warning that I hadn’t heeded to. As my mind churned up these signs, a vice-like grip seemed to have locked me in place. It burned and glowered as I saw the beast in my memory and gave it a face, one of a vicious siren. Then it shifted its demeanor to one of an ice-queen…and metamorphosed into a question in my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The knotty issue clings to my shoulders and upon a wild shrug slides down my back, its icy slimy hands sliding down my back, a will o’ the wisp, chilling my bones, sharing its creepy-crawly abundance over-zealously, a drop of chilled water trickling at its own pace, unhurried, unthreatened and unheeding. It permeates my senses and pervades my environment until it becomes all that I think of. My fears and my nightmares assume its hideous form. The morph complete, it gratifies its primitive urges by changing shape and watches in glee as my thoughts obey it’s beckoning. A conscious brainwash never was so effective and a tiresome lecture never exhausted me as this vile despicable primal fear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The puppet-master dons its robes and pulls its strings as the limp puppets toss and turn to fuel its phantasmagoric orgy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Guess what’s missing today back Home. I hope it is not the TV. I have done my best to protect it. The watch, the purse, the clothes, the shoes, the chequebooks and the cell-phones materialize, dance over my head and as sudden as their entry hop, skip and vanish into shadow and oblivion. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;As I write about my fears, they dissolve. Should fear be invisible ink, one might never know one from the other. Invisible ink is best contained in a bottle. When let out, it loses its context and its resistance. It can never survive the vast expanse of uncontained space. Its medium to propagate is the container. This ink contaminates all containers it touches. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;   &lt;span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:12;"&gt;Its mischief is invisible on paper. But its fleeting impression on paper registers itself for the briefest of moments; like a feather floating by in the wind. Catch it, o reader, before it gives you the slip. And flush it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-3653230774591766530?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/3653230774591766530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=3653230774591766530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/3653230774591766530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/3653230774591766530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/whats-missing-today-game-show-welcome.html' title='A KNOTTY ISSUE'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-7578658414692035980</id><published>2007-03-13T00:04:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-13T00:04:43.500+05:30</updated><title type='text'>KNOWLEDGE AND CHANGE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;KNOWLEDGE  AND CHANGE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;   &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It’s getting really late, as I struggle with a book. The pages seem to have multiplied overnight. But it’s a book. Someday I’m going to finish reading it. With this promise, I can look into the future and see that it is going to be different from what it is today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;       &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;But is it the future that’s changing or is it I? Would the future not change if I don’t finish reading the book. I then realize that I don’t control the arrow of Time. I only control the arrow of “my” time. And that’s not the entire story. I don’t control “my” time entirely. My thoughts and experiences and "my" Time take me places that I may or may not want to go. There is a certain bond somewhere. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I am indubitably connected to this giant turning wheel of time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Lets break bonds, shall we!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;       &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I could probably say that the closest situation I have seen, that bears any resemblance to this motion, would be a person sitting on a Giant Wheel. He is free to move in his sphere of influence. He is afraid of moving too much for he knows he is on a Giant Wheel. The wheel keeps on turning, its motion and mechanics are imparted to its unwitting passenger. The wheel could be really dumb or really clever; for it offers the person a chance to get down when it nears the ground. But it doesn’t bend over backwards or heel or rollover if the person asks it to. The ride stops at some point of time. The rider appreciates the fact that getting off in the middle of a ride is lethal. Once he subscribes to the ride, he has handed the reins over to the Wheel. The Wheel’s peak is his glory and the dip and the nadir is his reminder that he can only go higher. The rider is in a sense more intelligent and more advanced than I am. For he knows his ties. There are layers of knowledge, but these layers can be pierced, hacked and completely done away with. These layers must be discovered. The weeding out follows. Knowledge is a mere shroud covering existence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;       &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The rider has another option. He can stay at home and read books. A trivial pursuit, some might claim, but self-righteously indulgent, the person carries on. His passion assumes the form of words and his moral conviction that he would be a little wiser drives him to finish the book. But he considers himself a little less wise to start with, that’s necessary for him to read the book. His self-assessment is his veneer of knowledge. He has donned a cloak of partial ignorance, which he shall remove only when he is done with the book. The cloak comes off all right. But it reveals his existence. His wisdom has not increased; it’s his cloak that’s disappeared. His wisdom increases when he uses his shroud well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;       &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p  style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Subscription to ideas and living your life is as easy as knowing these layers and proceeding. You could read a book or take a ride on a Ferris wheel. But trying to escape your existence is not the goal. Existence is no splinter. I would call it a cushion that saves your head from fragmenting in a fall. Knowledge can only be a tool. Binding oneself to knowledge, like a monkey does to its dead offspring, can give no solace. Instead use knowledge to serve a better purpose, to discover the truth about your existence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-7578658414692035980?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/7578658414692035980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=7578658414692035980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/7578658414692035980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/7578658414692035980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/knowledge-and-change.html' title='KNOWLEDGE AND CHANGE'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-8657039153351685032</id><published>2007-03-13T00:03:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-13T00:04:12.478+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Verbal Diarrhoea</title><content type='html'>&lt;h3 class="post-title"&gt;                                                  VERBAL DIARRHOEA                                                    &lt;/h3&gt;                                                         &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;CHAT CONVERSATION WITH FUBU&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;knock knock!!!!&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;wtf&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;ob.. i m staring&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;did you ever feel that you were trapped in this world&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;u idiot&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;u r doin it too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;i am coming to set you free&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;nope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;i am warpheus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;and you are meo&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;wht fart&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;u idiot&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;moew&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;u locked my door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;you are meow&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;thu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;no no&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;heheh&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;warphues cant type..eh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;i hacked into the watrix dB and created a code to knock on yourdoor&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;peace&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;meow not goin to respond&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;i am on top of twinity who is typing&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;he is happy starin at the comp&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;hehe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;twinity is typing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;twinity da mucha meow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;she hacked the IRS dBase&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;peace&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;IRS&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;indian railway service&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;arey International Rodeo sEcrets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;its an anthology of kinky cybersex&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;didn't you know?&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;peace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;there is a lot you must learn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;Meow&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;but i already cracked it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;i can only show you the door&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;meow is gawd&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;you have to walk through&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;Meow is the Bun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;The Bun must walk through the door;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;but before that he must be squished and sloshed by twinity;&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;warpheus gon crazy..&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;shld b put in war chamber&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;Warpheus' purpose is to find the Bun ; damn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;nothing more&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;hehe..LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;the oracrackle told me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;she puts it with the warchitect&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;and she pumped him for info&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;hehe the warcritect is one my side..&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;i will crack its before twinity&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;mehaha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;the warchitect has a tendency to fall for women with 3 nipples and tactile clitori&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;so u better dont come here.. ok&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;warpheus bewar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;The purpose of THe Bun is to walk thru the door; and let REagent Shit take him&lt;br /&gt;pepe says:&lt;br /&gt;so you are supposed to get rid of REagent Shit&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;i have the solution to deactivate him from the watrix..&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;DEactivagent Sony is my backup&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;fuse uda de&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;maaa ki&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;you are "THE BUN"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;pepe&lt;/span&gt; says:&lt;br /&gt;cor wow&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;thers no fuse here&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;its alll biniature circuit breaker&lt;br /&gt;.. Perennial Sloth .. Staring at the Monitor .. says:&lt;br /&gt;the bun knows everythin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-8657039153351685032?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/8657039153351685032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=8657039153351685032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/8657039153351685032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/8657039153351685032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/verbal-diarrhoea.html' title='Verbal Diarrhoea'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-4983950969133539758</id><published>2007-03-13T00:02:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-13T00:03:35.147+05:30</updated><title type='text'>THE FUTURE BECOMES THE PRESENT</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;THE FUTURE BECOMES THE PRESENT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;When cynicism met optimism the change that followed resulted in a melting pot. The world was changing. Rifts between countries had grown to alarmingly high levels, high enough to make it boringly indulgent and personal. There were no longer any threats of World Wars, but the scene had shifted to a different field. Nuclear weapons were mere toys and had served the purpose of rubber knives in the hands of nations with more potent weapons than Nuke bombs and lethal intentions very satisfactorily. The Wars of the future were not fought for honour or glory or even to oppress oppression. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;strong style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Enter Personal Wars. Pursuit of individualistic and material achievements had become the order of the day. Everyone had awakened to the fact that they had needs that could be met only if they asserted themselves and that they could be taken advantage of, if they weren't smart enough to avoid it in the first place. People were unwilling to be fooled anymore. Sales and distribution of goods and commodities had reached such chokingly saturated levels that you only had to flick a finger for a Pizza and Lo and Behold! you were waylaid with special offers, spam and additional benefits which came free with your tasty bit of everyday morsel. The Public market was here to stay. Gone were the days when people had to step out to go and shop for stuff at malls and shops. The Personalized Vending Machines (PVMs) were the ports to everything the body needed - from Corn Flakes in the morning, to soap, fragrances, books, Tele and Communication ports and clothes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;strong style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;strong style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just so that they don't become too lazy, there were always the big malls of yesteryears. Nothing like a good morning jog in a completely circulated mechanised electronically-controlled artificial atmosphere enriched with your optimum amount of Oxygen. Just what the body needed. The air outside had become too noxious to breathe; a legacy left by a generation that was unaware of the principles of Posterity. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;strong style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;strong style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ever since the Great Disease had started out its ruthless campaign, millions had lost their lives, even more had lost body parts and had become crippled, and most of them had taken the way out offered by the ever helpful and feel-good-sensy Government, to shift to the place referred to by the Urbaners as The Land of the Plague. The way out was way out of its league. It was an innovation on the part of the Governement. For fear of social ostracism, these people had left their homes, mortgaged their assets and capital to shift to The Promised Land. They had been coaxed, cajoled, bribed and threatened to leave their Home countries. They were the sum total of the Undesirables. They were in essence unnecessary to sustain the new wave of creation and renovation. The New Coming had been embraced all round with a huge sigh of relief. Old wine in a new bottle. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;strong style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;strong style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Consumer was given the right to choose what he needed but he had to choose or else face the risk of being evicted to the Land of the Plague. As far as Health and Social Security were concerned, a compromise had been made. The Hospitals were overrun with cases of the Great Disease. Quarantine Zones were turning out to be too commonplace. The Evicted did have something to look forward to as the Promised Land was more than just a piece of dry land. The Urbans had grown by leaps and bounds to mammoth proportions. In its clogged existence, the Cities of 2300 faced a problem of expansion, the perennial problem facing any civilization. The promise of change was the force for the Evicted and others too. Once the cleansing was complete the Urbans could look forward to a better quality of life and to pursue their great dream. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;strong style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;strong style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Transportation had been reviewed. The cities' arteries were running clogged. Thus the path for Layered Travel had been paved. It wasn't exactly space travel but jet propulsion did drive the CARS of 2300. Gasoline had decided to hide under ground. So as the cars whizzed past you, you could feel the silent aggression, that aggression which had spawned from technological marvels, manufacturing breakthroughs and political agreements. No jerky movements, no heaves and throws, just pure guided poetry in motion. The design was sharp and snazzy. The rules of aesthetics had undergone certain natural changes. Aerodynamic forms were still hot property. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Engineers were proud of their creation.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You were shielded from these demonic beasts of cars in your own private pod. One step outside and you would probably burn up really quick, with average daily temperatures soaring up to 55 C as times change and a very low humidity of 10%. The Alpha form had dwindled in numbers on the outside as it had found its base in the humans. The risk of catching an Alpha was still very much real though. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Springs had dwindled to Springlets, lasting for not more than one month at a stretch. And sometimes the rains had failed to show up altogether. Seasonal changes had been very marked. Violent storms began and ended unpredictably. The aftereffects of these storms could be summed up as disaster. Wind patterns had changed and the patterns had re-established themselves after a long time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Great Disease had been a stroke of bad luck. The Comet that had exploded near the North Pole had melted a lot of Ice. A rockload of the original New Life Form Alpha1 which had been housed in the Arctic Shelf had sprung out and spread as it had never before in its 65 million years of tombed existence. The Alpha lived of Carbon Monoxide. But it needed to live off Human tissue as it had found itself attracted to Melanin. The Undesirables were the biological cleaners now. All cures to get rid of this Alpha form were in vain. Facial exposures were prominent, with patches of slimy extruded skin shining and protruding at grouped intervals. Some others who had been not less fortunate had their entire bodies covered with filth. The filth was useful in the sense that the bacteria had served a functional purpose of cleaning the air, but the byproduct was a GreenHouse Gas that we are too familiar, Carbon Dioxide. Bad Luck for the people affected by the Great Disease. The sweet-talking Government had had a tough time deciding whether to keep these people or to convince them to migrate to newer lands. The Promised Land initiative was inspired from a war that had been raging in the 1900s and the 2000s for more than 2000 years.............&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-4983950969133539758?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/4983950969133539758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=4983950969133539758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/4983950969133539758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/4983950969133539758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/future-becomes-present.html' title='THE FUTURE BECOMES THE PRESENT'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-603596344508892597</id><published>2007-03-13T00:01:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-13T00:02:10.462+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Credit Card Thing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/1600/creditcard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4716/1934/320/creditcard.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The Credit Card Thing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The train journey was turning out to be quite a bore. I made a pact with myself. I would try and overhear conversations as indiscreetly as possible and record the best one, if it struck me as one worth mentioning. True to my word, I hereby record the conversation that happened between two of my friends, Anil and Mukesh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anil is flipping through the latest copy of 'Outlook Money'. He looks up with a sort of Buddha-like enlightenment on his face and starts to talk...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"I say, arey, have you noticed something?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mukesh, who is immersed in an equally dull and uninspiring 'Business Today', glances up real slow and says-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"What?"&lt;br /&gt;"The thing about Credit Cards."&lt;br /&gt;"Well! What about them?"&lt;br /&gt;"I mean, you seriously haven't figured out what's wrong with the Credit Card System!"&lt;br /&gt;"I can only imagine you would let me in on this little secret..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;A brief pause...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"So what is it?",&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;Mukesh retorts, noticing the gap he had helped create.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"It is no secret, this, ok! I mean anyone with half a brain and a logical eye could spot the problem credit financers can run into."&lt;br /&gt;"Boy! That would make my day",&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;em&gt;exclaimed Mukesh, with eyes reaching for Heaven.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anil waves a magnanimous hand, as if to hush his imaginary audience. People had started to wake up. I can't be too sure whether it was this conversation that injected life into that otherwise uneventful train journey.&lt;br /&gt;It is strange what the word "MONEY" can do. We were sitting in one of the lousiest unreserved train compartments imaginable and were on our way back Home. The crowd we had about us wasn't at all excited. And neither would you expect them to be. But they wore a sort of a deadpan look on their faces, as if they were all poker players. A little chat never did harm anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"Money rules the mind, my friend",&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;says Anil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This sparked off a chain reaction among the people of the train. Ears perked up and eyes strained harder to locate the source of this universal truism. The speaker looks around with a reserved air and realizes that he had initiated a wave of thought, without meaning to. Curse his luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Ok dude! I will give you the real deal. No nonsense and no beating around the bush”,&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Anil quickens his pace and begins to talk faster. He has lost his slow drawl and his relaxed demeanor.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Imagine you have a credit card and imagine you have withdrawn some money that is lesser than the credit limit, which is normally around Rs. 40,000 for normal credit cards. There is such a thing as Credit Period, within which you could borrow, use and return the same amount without any additional interest. Its Interest free…”&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;Anil takes a pause here and plods right on…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“So far so good…but what if I decide that I need more time; well lets say I decide that 40 days of credit period is not enough. I need more time.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Go on…”,&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;Mukesh seems interested.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Suppose I have another credit card…”,&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;Anil’s attention wanders for a brief instance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Oh yeah! Oooh yeah! I get what you are trying to say”,&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mukesh is a little overwhelmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“You see … I could get my credit period extended to as long as 90 days. That means I have credit for 90 days. That’s 90 days! 3 months! Imagine…if I had invested well in the Equity market and suppose they had a bull run going or maybe even takeover bids…oh the possibilities are endless.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;Now I confess this is where I lost Anil. He had had his moment. That lightning inspiration, that insight which located an open avenue. I had a glimpse of what it means to look at the system from both inside and outside, a complete perspective. That’s what’s new.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-603596344508892597?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/603596344508892597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=603596344508892597' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/603596344508892597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/603596344508892597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/credit-card-thing-train-journey-was.html' title='The Credit Card Thing'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6946841803181490583.post-8306975747140221788</id><published>2007-03-12T23:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-12T23:48:50.443+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Forgetful that I am</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;I am a forgetful chap. This just in, I forgot my ID thrice in the same day. I forgot my password to the previous blog. I forgot my Login name and I forgot the mailing address. Ain't that cute? I'm going to copy the source of my previos blog. So go ahead and sue me&lt;/span&gt;. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6946841803181490583-8306975747140221788?l=pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/feeds/8306975747140221788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6946841803181490583&amp;postID=8306975747140221788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/8306975747140221788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6946841803181490583/posts/default/8306975747140221788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pradeepspensieve.blogspot.com/2007/03/forgetful-that-i-am.html' title='Forgetful that I am'/><author><name>Pradeep</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00870769165103152248</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
