<?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-1074927742352006744</id><updated>2012-02-03T04:04:20.824+05:30</updated><category term='tagged'/><category term='poetry'/><category term='gobbledygook'/><category term='shenoy'/><category term='reflections'/><category term='the lighter vein'/><category term='satire'/><category term='my book of complaints'/><category term='traveler&apos;s notes'/><category term='tribute'/><title type='text'>Life. Loosely.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-3250483036397406364</id><published>2011-12-18T18:27:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-12-18T20:54:51.918+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='traveler&apos;s notes'/><title type='text'>Soulkadi and self-discovery: A biketrip - Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Sometime in 1999, on a rainy weekend afternoon, X and his mother were re-organizing a bookshelf in their house. Among several ancient books of what belonged to his grandfather's time, or possibly even older, he chanced upon a very old atlas - a gift of Space that had travelled through Time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flipping through its dog-eared pages, X spotted Czechoslovakia. Unable to pronounce the name despite several attempts, he quietly slunk away to West Germany, jumped over the Berlin Wall over to East Germany, proceeded to the USSR, turned south and crossing the Gobi desert, surmounted the Himalayas and set foot on Punjab's green-and-revolving soil.&lt;br /&gt;All the travelling had wearied him out, and he badly needed some sea breeze. Without further ado, he flew to Bombay, with the prospect of idling away some time at Juhu beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, he ran his finger along the western coast of India, trying to land safely on that gigantic metropolis of the West. Air traffic had always been a problem at Bombay airport, and chances of getting the runway clear were always uncertain. As a result, he overflew south by a hundred miles or so and then....and then something on the map caught his eye! He couldn't believe it at all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If he had rubbed his eyes at the time, or opened his mouth a lot wider, it would have created a more dramatic effect, no doubt. But this was no time to waste on such antics. So he merely gave the map a closer look - There was a place on the atlas that showed his very name, "X", on the western coast of India. Wow! What were the odds, really! Wouldn't it be great to go there one day... "X goes to X", he fancied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, twelve years after deserting his imaginary aeroplane over Bombay's skies, X landed at Nashik instead. And on Diwali day (D-day, if you will), "X" and two of his pals, embarked upon the biketrip of their lifetime to "X".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A biketrip of 'self-discovery'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dXfAhsBUrzU/Tu3gn_GpEXI/AAAAAAAAAN4/xNxSDtLJrJ0/s1600/a_konkan_final.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dXfAhsBUrzU/Tu3gn_GpEXI/AAAAAAAAAN4/xNxSDtLJrJ0/s200/a_konkan_final.JPG" width="199" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The answer to the trivia of "X", in case you are still wondering, is "Shrivardhan!"&lt;br /&gt;There's a Konkan village by this name, with a beautiful beach to its credit. It pleases the heart that thousands of people know&amp;nbsp;of this beautiful village, a popular weekend getaway from Mumbai and Pune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was on the 26th of October that we started for the journey. We were 5 in all, 3 men and 2 machines, to mention nothing of the compass, the map and the old memory. Our plans at the time of cranking our engines were outlined as follows:&lt;br /&gt;1) Leave Nashik for Shrivardhan via Matheran&lt;br /&gt;2) Enough said. Hit the road!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xqvcDOGsUB8/Tu3WtVCpgNI/AAAAAAAAANI/vinPEGqAHm0/s1600/Konkan+Biketrip+Oct%252711+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xqvcDOGsUB8/Tu3WtVCpgNI/AAAAAAAAANI/vinPEGqAHm0/s320/Konkan+Biketrip+Oct%252711+025.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp;Thus started our 781 km long bike-trip. We rode out on to NH-3, the Agra-Mumbai Expressway, and glided blissfully on the polished tarmac, negotiating the beautifully banked curves of the Kasara Ghats. With the monsoonal clouds having just left the picture, the brilliant golden sunlight&amp;nbsp;tore open the blue skies to&amp;nbsp;beam down upon the autumnal mountains textured in shades of fading green. All this, with the wind blowing in your face and the tarmac sailing past inches below your feet, to say nothing of the distant hum of the engine at constant throttle and the suspension snoring away to sleep, was how it all began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Occasionally, we would stop for fuel - petrol or &lt;i&gt;chai&lt;/i&gt;, as the case may be. At Shahpur, the GPS was unfurled, if I may use the expression, and we headed for Matheran. This stretch of road was mostly broken-highway cutting across agricultural landscape. There were quite a few rivers and bridges on this route, some of them particularly big ones, with the river flowing far below. And then, there were brief spells where the road got pretty rough and we had to dodge potholes adroitly all along. Reached Matheran by late afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hrvvpHZuIiw/Tu3Xznzm9YI/AAAAAAAAANQ/sRdAGF0RjzY/s1600/Konkan+Biketrip+Oct%252711+067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="179" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hrvvpHZuIiw/Tu3Xznzm9YI/AAAAAAAAANQ/sRdAGF0RjzY/s320/Konkan+Biketrip+Oct%252711+067.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matheran is supposedly Asia's tiniest hill station. Being a pedestrian zone, one can get to Matheran only either by foot, toy-train or horseback. We parked our bikes and walked along the toy-train track to the village 3 km uphill, trying to elude tourist guides and &lt;i&gt;ghodawallahs.&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;The trek along the narrow-gauge railway had its share of valley-views to offer. We checked in into a cottage alongside the track and decided to spend the rest of the day at Matheran, catch the sunrise from Sunrise Point the next day and leave Konkanwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What followed was, we pottered around a bit in the market's handicraft shoppes, helping ourselves to &lt;i&gt;chikkis&lt;/i&gt;, starfruit and a jar of mango-fudge. Diwali was being celebrated with lamps adorning the houses. A group of&amp;nbsp;mischievous&amp;nbsp;kids went about setting off crackers near unsuspecting tourists. We retired for the night, and instead of &lt;i&gt;us&lt;/i&gt; visiting Sunrise Point the next day, the Sun himself did us an honour and visited our cottage, when we rose by around 8 a.m.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p8i1dF2R3Po/Tu3Zjjlme5I/AAAAAAAAANY/Bk8e0IqSF1s/s1600/Konkan+Biketrip+Oct%252711+131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p8i1dF2R3Po/Tu3Zjjlme5I/AAAAAAAAANY/Bk8e0IqSF1s/s320/Konkan+Biketrip+Oct%252711+131.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Essentially, Matheran is a village hidden amongst trees. But for the little market near the train station that flaunts cobbled streets, the rest of Matheran is tucked away secretively in the woods. The 'streets' of Matheran are really forest paths. As you stroll along one of these paths, under the canopy of dense trees, you would come across unassuming signboards partially hidden in the undergrowth, bearing colonial names such as '&lt;i&gt;Belle Vue' &lt;/i&gt;and &lt;i&gt;'Kragie Burn&lt;/i&gt;'.&lt;br /&gt;The entire place sits on a hill overlooking valleys on 3 sides, and is dotted by viewpoints with several names. We had our breakfast of chikkis at Monkey Point. Speaking of Monkey Point, Matheran is infested with monkeys. Monkeys on the railway track, monkeys on rooftops, little monkeys bursting crackers...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EHb1H_QaFoQ/Tu3ctoXoH1I/AAAAAAAAANo/MPuJ4PN3t3Q/s1600/Konkan+Biketrip+Oct%252711+199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EHb1H_QaFoQ/Tu3ctoXoH1I/AAAAAAAAANo/MPuJ4PN3t3Q/s320/Konkan+Biketrip+Oct%252711+199.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started from Matheran in the afternoon and set off down the slopes. We thought that if we could reach Alibag beach by around 5 pm, we could ride along the Beach Highway, watching the Sun go down into the sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ride from Matheran to Alibag was most enjoyable. Here's quoting Robert Pirsig from his book, 'Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance:'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Twisting hilly roads are long in&amp;nbsp;terms of seconds but are much more enjoyable on a cycle where you bank into turns and don’t get swung from side to side in any&amp;nbsp;compartment. Roads with little traffic are more enjoyable, as well as safer. Roads free of drive-ins and billboards are better, roads&amp;nbsp;where groves and meadows and orchards and lawns come almost to the shoulder, where kids wave to you when you ride by, where&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;people look from their porches to see who it is, where when you stop to ask directions or information the answer tends to be longer&amp;nbsp;than you want rather than short, where people ask where you’re from and how long you’ve been riding."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We managed to get to Alibag by sundown. But, it turned out that we couldn't honour &lt;i&gt;this &lt;/i&gt;appointment with the Sun either, and he had to content himself with setting without our company. We rode on, planning to halt at the next village for the night. The road from Alibag to Kashid was alive with Diwali celebrations. Little &lt;i&gt;diyas &lt;/i&gt;flickered on with their tiny lights on our left, and waves flirted with the beach sands on our right, as we rode south on that moonless night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;(more miles to be munched...)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-3250483036397406364?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/3250483036397406364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=3250483036397406364' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/3250483036397406364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/3250483036397406364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2011/12/soulkadi-and-self-discovery-biketrip.html' title='Soulkadi and self-discovery: A biketrip - Part 1'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dXfAhsBUrzU/Tu3gn_GpEXI/AAAAAAAAAN4/xNxSDtLJrJ0/s72-c/a_konkan_final.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-7536831901352301067</id><published>2011-07-20T03:20:00.022+05:30</published><updated>2011-08-21T17:46:24.763+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='traveler&apos;s notes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the lighter vein'/><title type='text'>Blog revival attempt: Nashik</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Long, long ago, a divine prince from Ayodhya, accompanied by his chaste wife and loyal brother, clocked in at Nashik for about 14 years. Legend has it that this stay at Nashik, some call it exile, was purely at the whim of the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaikeyi"&gt;former's step-mother&lt;/a&gt; who insisted that he undertake an extended outbound training programme (OBT) in the jungle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, along came &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surpanakha"&gt;Surpanakha&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;, wandering through the woods, lost in romantic frenzy, her heartstrings&amp;nbsp;twanged&amp;nbsp;by the&amp;nbsp;forest's rhapsody and birdsong. Smitten by&amp;nbsp;the handsome prince, she proposed matrimony&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;to him &lt;em&gt;pronto;&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;without bothering to 'look him up' first&amp;nbsp;and completely&amp;nbsp;ignoring the possibility that he could&amp;nbsp; be already-married.&amp;nbsp;Of course, matrimonial websites were not&amp;nbsp;in vogue&amp;nbsp;in those days,&amp;nbsp;neither were social networks. One sympathises with&amp;nbsp;the lady in question&amp;nbsp;regarding such anachronistic aspects.&lt;br /&gt;But alas, her ill-timed haste unleashed&amp;nbsp;fury in the prince's brother: He promptly sent her back to Lanka with a quick&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nosejob"&gt;nosejob&lt;/a&gt;, swording off the respiratory organ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"History's first&amp;nbsp;documented nosejob",&lt;/em&gt; if one may&amp;nbsp;claim so.&lt;br /&gt;Skeptics refute this claim, notable among them being an ex-Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, who had earlier&amp;nbsp;highlighted credibility issues&amp;nbsp;of the said&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M._Karunanidhi#Ram_Setu_remarks"&gt;prince's engineering acumen&lt;/a&gt;, and now&amp;nbsp;calls into doubt,&amp;nbsp;his brother's medical/surgical skills... I digress...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the nosejob is what&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nashik#History"&gt;gave Nashik its name&lt;/a&gt;, but&amp;nbsp;it is not what I'm driving at, mind you. What puzzles me is this:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;If such a place on earth could blind a lady into a lethally romantic trance, causing&amp;nbsp;her to make such tactless moves, then clearly&lt;em&gt;,&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;History&amp;nbsp;lacks a first-hand travelogue on Nashik from her part.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of appreciative verses on Nashik could have been expected from &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Faxian"&gt;Fa Hien&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xuanzang"&gt;Hiuen Tsang&lt;/a&gt;, the 2 Chinese travellers whose names our history textbooks are awash with. But sadly, it looks like they missed it out on their itinerary, blame it on their emperor's&amp;nbsp;frugal travel budget sanction or their measly Outdoor Duty Allowance or whatever. Experts are still probing the subject, in case you were wondering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another intriguing thing is, Fa Hien seems to be so well-known in India. In his home country, China, however, people are disposed to draw blank faces at the mention of his name. Fa Hien's vivid travelogues on India and lively depictions on the culture and life of its people have immortalised him here. One supposes that his praises of a foreign land were not very well-received at home. I mean, who is to say... if one digs through Chinese history, one might unearth travelogues on China by Indian travellers like a Baiju Sankarankutty, or for that matter, an Amit Travelwallah. One ponders at the plausibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing that I have digressed yet again (and that you, the hon. reader, are still here on this page) I shall make another attempt at a birdie on the topic, &lt;strike&gt;and thereby, a feeble attempt to&amp;nbsp;fulfill&amp;nbsp;Fa Hien's mission and&amp;nbsp;establish my rightful place in history&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as I mentioned somewhere in the middle of those rants, Nashik is indeed a beautiful place, with its pleasant climate, typical &lt;i&gt;bazaars&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;galis&lt;/i&gt;, charming people, lush green vineyards, mighty hills and indefatigable autorickshaws fitted with&amp;nbsp;Dolby® Digital Surround EX™ and also about 15 fully-grown adults.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said so much about Nashik in just one sentence, let me proceed to tell you that for the last 9 months, I have shied away from updating this forgotten blog of mine because of the fabulous weekend bike-trips we, my friends and self, have been having.&lt;br /&gt;Starting with late-winter, our weekend bike-trips have spanned across spring and summer and are currently in their monsoon phase. Unlike in Kerala or elsewhere in the tropics, a change of season can completely change the colour of the landscape in these parts, both literally and figuratively. Our explorations of the local geography have been highly gratifying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The countryside to the north, west and south of Nashik is bejeweled with mighty hills, rolling meadows, a wealth of lakes and dams and vineyards. The shade of vegetation goes from green-brown in late-winter to golden-brown at the peak of summer,&amp;nbsp;occasionally dotted by vibrant colours of&amp;nbsp;bougainvilleas, coral jasmines and&amp;nbsp;&lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palash"&gt;palash&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt; flowers that blossom in the spring.&lt;br /&gt;As one trudges along the winding roads, one might see bullock carts loaded with produce; fields of sunflower, cabbage and tomato; pumpkin cartons lying about for collection, women huddling around a village well, artfully balancing colourful plastic pots on their waists; a little boy herding playful goats; horses grazing on the dry turf; taxis stuffed with villagers in every possible nook and cranny; children rushing out after their mid-day meal at school, gaily welcoming the man who brings them cotton candy on a bicycle; or even an old man waiting all by himself at a bus-stop, revealing his skinny legs, making one wonder how he manages the strength to stand at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_qAkJPgyLnU/TlD27JOdopI/AAAAAAAAANA/W6vF3aVOty0/s1600/182786_10150097376209205_723789204_6374688_7038416_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_qAkJPgyLnU/TlD27JOdopI/AAAAAAAAANA/W6vF3aVOty0/s320/182786_10150097376209205_723789204_6374688_7038416_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come monsoons, and this land turns magical. If one could imagine a wand being waved over the place, transforming the place from golden to velvet green as it sweeps, that would be it. Except for the fact that mist sails into the picture, adding that finishing touch to the portrait.&lt;br /&gt;Riding in the rains is, no doubt, a most relaxing pastime. The sheer spread of greenery would work wonders in uplifting your spirit, to mention nothing of the exhilarating valley views, monsoonal waterfalls that garland whole hillocks, secretive mountain-tops that hide amidst the mist, lakes that resemble unpolished sapphires in the clouded sunlight, the rollicking breeze that showers you with its play-pearls and the mere bliss that arises from hearing the pitter-patter of rain and the raw smell of the earth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3ZNIOYzbZkY/TlD3C-2vPrI/AAAAAAAAANE/z3cuwZLpPJ4/s1600/263145_10150212627624205_723789204_7274546_8141615_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="188" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3ZNIOYzbZkY/TlD3C-2vPrI/AAAAAAAAANE/z3cuwZLpPJ4/s320/263145_10150212627624205_723789204_7274546_8141615_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it were not for the ghastly &lt;i&gt;Aloo&lt;/i&gt; preparations that occasionally bring about great intestinal suffering, Nashik is a beautiful town to live and revel in. There's a wonderful charm to the place.&lt;br /&gt;What would life be without the Western Ghats, I often wonder!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Credits: The possibility of an Indian traveller, 'Sankaran Kutty', sent abroad as an ambassador was originally suggested by Shrijith V Nair during one of our many intellectual discourses on nothing-in-particular&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/1074927742352006744-7536831901352301067?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/7536831901352301067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=7536831901352301067' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/7536831901352301067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/7536831901352301067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2011/07/blog-revival-attempt-nashik_20.html' title='Blog revival attempt: Nashik'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_qAkJPgyLnU/TlD27JOdopI/AAAAAAAAANA/W6vF3aVOty0/s72-c/182786_10150097376209205_723789204_6374688_7038416_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-7583774376672794980</id><published>2010-10-05T03:47:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-10-05T04:02:24.399+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the lighter vein'/><title type='text'>Of taps &amp; flushes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Our family trip to Delhi &amp;amp; Manali turned out to be successful. Highly satisfying, in fact. Exactly the kind of trip whose wondrous moments get etched in your memory. Manali is a most beautiful place: apple-orchards, snow-capped peaks, pahari people, pine slopes, splendid castles, exhilarating views, steep gorges, green meadows and what not! We thoroughly enjoyed the holiday, especially the part where we rented a couple of bikes and set about exploring the mountains! (&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=225501&amp;amp;id=723789204&amp;amp;l=ef0da275f5"&gt;Click here for the snaps&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;The only disappointment, perhaps, was that we couldn't make it to the snow point at Rohtang Pass, thanks to landslides that blocked the roads (or what is left of them). Turned out to be Rohtang Fail, i guess...sigh! Well, next time, maybe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;The return trip to Delhi was by bus and it changed a lot of things. Put a lot of things into perspective. The bus being a semi-sleeper had reclining passenger seats. I heartily applaud the fellow who came up with the name 'semi-sleeper'; the search for a more precise term would prove unnecessary. In simple language, it means that for approximately one half of the travel time, the passenger is in a state of sleep, while for the other half, he is continuously &amp;amp; vigorously shaken out of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reasons are many.&amp;nbsp;I strongly suspect that&amp;nbsp;some prankster had left the driver thinking he was being secretly monitored to qualify for the World Rally Championship. The poor fellow, in his iron will to succeed, rode over rock and rubble in a manner reminiscent of Knights during the time of Queen Elizabeth-I. But as a passenger reclined backwards at an angle of 45 degrees, I clearly could not share the driver's high spirits. "River-rafting, my dear fellow", I wanted to tell him, "is generally not carried out on land, however slushy the roads may be."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;The single most obvious effect of this mountain road roller-coaster was the enthusiasm passengers displayed to take the window seat. This is not to be confused with the desire to appreciate scenery. Upset tummies gurgling like cisterns, travel sickness bags being passed around and various forms of digestive projectile motion being demonstrated summed it all up. As for me, an &lt;i&gt;Avomin&lt;/i&gt; pill did the trick (normally, i would proceed to enlighten u that etymologically, '&lt;i&gt;Avomin&lt;/i&gt;' is partly derived from Sanskrit negative prefix '&lt;i&gt;a-'&lt;/i&gt; (not) and &amp;nbsp;Latin '&lt;i&gt;vomin&lt;/i&gt;' (to vomit), but this time, I refrain from doing so!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;The bus stopped at a Haveli the next day morning, for people to attend their morning calls (not to mention several 'missed calls' during the night!) To my dismay I noted that only tissue paper had been provided in the toilets and there was no tap to be seen for washing. At that, I was forced to issue an 'About turn' command and wait for the prospect of using a toilet only at Delhi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;While on the subject of toilets and wash areas, I want to speak out my mind and get to the bottom of things!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never has mankind been so unnecessarily and wastefully innovative when it comes to designing taps and flushes. I am sure the ordinary man will be totally bewildered for such a simple thing as – how do I open this tap? Do I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;a) press it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;b) lift it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;c) twist it to the left or right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;d) place my palms under the spout as in prayer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;e) adopt a wait &amp;amp; watch policy, let someone else operate?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Even more bewildering are the toilet flushes! Where is the flush button, dammit? And why the hell is it camouflaged? Don't they have better things to camouflage- the US army in Iraq , for instance- but why? Why flush buttons of &amp;nbsp;all the things on earth? And why can’t they provide ordinary taps for post-morning-call use?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;I say this with deep feeling, as I realised later that i had been made a gross fool of in the matter, when &amp;nbsp;a co-passenger educated me&amp;nbsp; that the wash taps in the Haveli toilets are not fixed to the walls&amp;nbsp; as generally known , but ‘cleverly’ positioned &amp;nbsp;at a set of precise co-ordinates &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;inside, mind you, inside &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;the ‘commode' itself! All u have to do is to go&amp;nbsp;on sitting on the toilet seat while the 'flushing station'&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;senses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt; the 'proximity of the target' with respect to the station and an obliging &amp;nbsp;jet of water from the secret pipe set inside the commode is released by a set of (again obliging) valves to do &amp;nbsp;all the bum-washing required!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Now, if this facility&amp;nbsp;is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;altruistically&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; intended to reduce human labour and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;make human life easier easier&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;, &lt;b&gt;I totally oppose it and register my strong protest with the relevant authority concerned!&lt;/b&gt; Now, I would like to know why is it that for AGES till recently, &amp;nbsp;the humble tap never underwent any metamorphosis? Why only now? I postulate that this is being &amp;nbsp;done by a set of practical misguided jokers who manufacture flushing equipment calculated to frighten and bewilder the poor ordinary man in an emergent situation! And they also extort a fancy price for such accursed equipment!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smart toilets, indeed!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-7583774376672794980?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/7583774376672794980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=7583774376672794980' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/7583774376672794980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/7583774376672794980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2010/10/of-taps-flushes.html' title='Of taps &amp; flushes'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-55679015408487633</id><published>2010-07-25T15:32:00.010+05:30</published><updated>2010-07-25T16:31:12.217+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shenoy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the lighter vein'/><title type='text'>The elephant and the bull- a Shenoy*</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;[Warning: A shenoy ahead! Please wear your seat-belts!]&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;The following incident was the turning point in wildlife reporter Sathish's life. This took place in 1971, a year before the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wildlife_Protection_Act_of_1972"&gt;Wildlife Protection Act (1972)&lt;/a&gt; came into force and partly depicts one of the sequences that led up to its legislation.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he made his way up the rocky terrain of the &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anaimalai_Hills"&gt;Anaimalai Hills&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;, Sathish was lost in contemplation. His career prospects looked bleak. He was 24,&amp;nbsp;just as old as Independent India was. There seemed to be no future for him here. He considered migrating&amp;nbsp;to the US.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three years ago, in 1968, two of his journalist-friends had settled down in the States. They had then quit journalism, moved on and made big bucks in the stock markets. The idea had planted a seed in his mind..and&amp;nbsp;it grew. He dreamt about &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_York_Stock_Exchange"&gt;NYSE&lt;/a&gt; all the time...and about a new stock exchange called&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/NASDAQ#History"&gt;NASDAQ&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;set up in February that very year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked up at the skies. Dark clouds were gathering above the village. A heavy downpour was imminent. He spotted a lone building a few&amp;nbsp;hundred yards away. 'That must be the &lt;i&gt;Chinnamalai&lt;/i&gt; Police Station', he said to himself, and dashed for shelter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first modern settlements in &lt;i&gt;Chinnamalai&lt;/i&gt; village, nestled in the &lt;i&gt;Anaimalai&lt;/i&gt; forest range, were initiated by Gen. Harold Westmond during the time&amp;nbsp;of the British Raj. Game-hunting was a passion for the General. This region was elephant territory, and Gen. Westmond wasted no time in&amp;nbsp;converting this place into a nucleus of ivory trade.&lt;br /&gt;Soon, he had the village named after him. By 1971, Westmond village had been renamed as &lt;i&gt;Chinnamalai&lt;/i&gt; village, but the inhabitants preferred using&amp;nbsp;the British name. Colonial hangover had not elapsed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The village wasn't just famous for ivory trade. Horticulture and poultry farming were practised with great enterprise. The &lt;i&gt;Westmond Subji Market&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;teemed with a variety of vegetables, mountain crops and poultry produce. In fact, poultry farming had become a huge success, so much so that references of&lt;i&gt; 'Subji Market'&lt;/i&gt; were often corrected as &lt;i&gt;'Subji-Egg Market'&lt;/i&gt; by the villagers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, inside the Chinnamalai Police Station, Sub-Inspector Rajan paced up and down the room. He was on special duty: Internationally&amp;nbsp;prominent wildlife activist, Gabrian LeBeouf was campaigning in the village. He was gaining strength as an anti-poaching activist. LeBeouf vehemently opposed Ivory Trade. His mission in India was to introduce anti-poaching laws. He had done wonders to protect wildlife and had co- founded the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Fund_for_Animal_Welfare"&gt;International Fund for Animal Welfare&lt;/a&gt; in 1969.&lt;br /&gt;S.I. Rajan admired Gabrian LeBeouf, to say the least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly bad news had poured in: LeBeouf was shot in the arm! He was bleeding profusely. The nearest hospital was miles away. SI Rajan&amp;nbsp;ordered his men to bring LeBeouf to the police station immediately. First-aid treatment was to be given.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The S.I. suspected the attack to be the ugly work of an ivory dacoit. His name (villagers shuddered when they heard it) was '&lt;i&gt;Neela-&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lungi"&gt;Lungi&lt;/a&gt; Bhaskaran'&lt;/i&gt;. He was notorious for his cold-blooded killings of dozens of elephants. What started for &lt;i&gt;Bhaskaran&lt;/i&gt; as working as a forest guide, accompanying Gen. Westmond himself on his hunts, had turned into an ivory mafia, complete with smuggling and overseas connections.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The police discovered that &lt;i&gt;Bhaskaran&lt;/i&gt; also sold ivory legitimately through an agent. To ward off any suspicion, all his trade contracts were signed in one of the shops in the Subji-Egg Market. The offer documents, viz. the papers that stated the terms and conditions of the trade were hidden somewhere in the market. This had been a magnificent find for the police: something to lead them to Bhaskaran's&amp;nbsp;whereabouts!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the front door of the station, P.C. Velu stood guard. Never had he seen the Sub-Inspector so worried in his life. &lt;i&gt;'Irritated'&lt;/i&gt;- yes, but &lt;i&gt;'Worried'&lt;/i&gt;- no! The S.I. always used to get irritated by Velu and his attempts to speak english. &lt;i&gt;'Full of grammatical errors'&lt;/i&gt;, he used to say! But Velu loved speaking in&amp;nbsp;English and never gave up.&lt;br /&gt;His father had been a small-time tailor who sewed uniforms for the British soldiers. The first 5 english words that Velu learnt were these-&lt;i&gt; 'Knicker, Shirting, Suiting,&amp;nbsp;Vesting, Briefing'&lt;/i&gt;. His father had taught him those beautiful words. In his subconscious mind, random english words and phrases kept swimming about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dark clouds in the sky caught Velu's gaze. He could hear the police jeep coming from the direction of the Subji-Market. (Subji-Egg market, he corrected himself in time) Gabrian LeBeouf, bleeding profusely, was being brought in that jeep. From the opposite direction, a young man (whom we know to be Sathish) was hurrying towards the station.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, a long, twisted fork of lightning struck somewhere near the edge of the forest. Thunderstorms shook the village. Rain had started to pour thick, chill and rich.&lt;br /&gt;Then, Velu heard something that froze his blood! He was shell-shocked and stood rooted to the spot- The lightning and thunder had maddened the elephants in the forest. In a fit of &lt;i&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elephant#Elephant_aggression"&gt;musth&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;, the agitated pachyderms were heading for the village! Life and property were at stake! Westmond Market was in danger! Bhaskaran's documents might be destroyed too, and the police may never be able to track him down! Oh, the horror of it all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Velu was so shaken that he did not see the other constables carry LeBeouf in. He did not see Sathish step into the verandah either. As he slowly turned back, to inform the SI of what he had observed, the other constables were removing LeBeouf's jacket, followed by his 'shirting', but left his 'vesting' on (for it was quite cold at that time)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.C. Velu&amp;nbsp;stumbled into the room. In moments of great panic, he could speak only in English. Out in the verandah, Sathish heard the conversation that ensued between P.C. Velu and S.I. Rajan. They spoke fast. Breathlessly. The former spilled out the information, the latter gave out the necessary police orders. When one has to act fast, one doesn't usually pause for commas and full-stops as one speaks.&lt;br /&gt;But the dialogue between them merely inspired Sathish. He was overjoyed! It was one of his favourite lines!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Much elephant in Westmond, sir!" "Subji (egg too) market? Risk! Police, raid the offer documents! Care for LeBeouf here in vesting!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;A Shenoy is a long, winding story woven around a punny, one-liner (also known as a '&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feghoot"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;groaner&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;')..originally the brainchild of &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://narendrashenoy.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;narendra shenoy&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&amp;nbsp;and named thus by his admirers.. To understand a shenoy, u need to go through the entire story.. and read the last line out loud and fast..repeatedly and with special attention, if required.. till u understand the reason y u were cautioned abt wearing ur seat-belts.. Click &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://narendrashenoy.blogspot.com/2010/01/old-man-and-nets.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;here&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;, &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://irsquared.posterous.com/the-descent-of-subramani-a-shenoy"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;here&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;, &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://anotherbloggerbloke.blogspot.com/2010/07/woodpecker-shenoy.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;here&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt; and &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://purgationofsoul.blogspot.com/2010/05/gunther-wvivelhof.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;here&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt; for more!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-55679015408487633?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/55679015408487633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=55679015408487633' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/55679015408487633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/55679015408487633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2010/07/elephant-and-bull-shenoy.html' title='The elephant and the bull- a Shenoy*'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-1200653486364077126</id><published>2010-06-30T23:59:00.018+05:30</published><updated>2010-08-31T11:16:23.567+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='traveler&apos;s notes'/><title type='text'>Chittar Dam: The word that paints a thousand pictures!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;(Click on images to enlarge)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It was the last day of May. The &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mango_showers"&gt;Pre-monsoon showers&lt;/a&gt; that heralded the mango season had left. The &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monsoon#Southwest_Monsoon"&gt;South-West monsoons&lt;/a&gt; were to be expected anytime soon. The Sun was up in the sky, though acting coy most of the time. The weather was perfect. The heart yearned to travel, explore and discover!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/sankar.skumar1"&gt;Sankar&lt;/a&gt; and I got together and decided to throw ourselves into the wilderness. With our travel base being Trivandrum, we were naturally spoilt for choice! A word of explanation is in order here: When one looks at a map of the town and adjoining districts..and reads between the &lt;s&gt;lines&lt;/s&gt;&amp;nbsp;latitudes, one learns that Trivandrum sits pretty at the centre of a circle, hemmed in by country getaways on all sides: Hills, waterfalls, streams/rivulets, dams, lakes, beaches and lagoons..all of them pegged onto the map within a 60 km radius of the town.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our gaze turned south-east, and we set off to &lt;a href="http://wikimapia.org/#lat=8.4474126&amp;amp;lon=77.2670174&amp;amp;z=14&amp;amp;l=0&amp;amp;m=b"&gt;Chittar Dam&lt;/a&gt; on Sankar's Activa at eight in the morning. We careened along the serpentine curves of NH47, weaving our way through the morning highway traffic. At Marthandam town, we took a left turn and took the route that takes one to &lt;a href="http://www.google.co.in/images?hl=en&amp;amp;rlz=1C1CHOE_en-ININ357IN357&amp;amp;q=thirparappu+waterfalls&amp;amp;um=1&amp;amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;amp;source=og&amp;amp;sa=N&amp;amp;tab=wi"&gt;Thiruparappu Waterfalls&lt;/a&gt; and Pechiparai Dam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In no time, Sankar's camera, which had hitherto been hiding in his bag, crept out excitedly and started going about its business. Paddy fields, village ponds and rubber plantations sat up, suddenly alert and full of life, and posed for the lens, as the shutter merrily clicked away. The distant hills and the clouds, it seemed, wanted to get into the frame too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDDY8wkrFqI/AAAAAAAAAKk/pJf6DE5b9t0/s1600/IMG_6633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDDY8wkrFqI/AAAAAAAAAKk/pJf6DE5b9t0/s400/IMG_6633.jpg" width="287" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We reached Pechiparai dam, yet another dam built during the time of the Maharajahs to cater to the needs of the region known as 'the ricebowl of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Travancore"&gt;Travancore&lt;/a&gt;.' A very picturesque place. Pardon the cliche, but it did look like it was right out of a picture postcard! At that time, we weren't permitted to cross the dam to the other side, which we would doubtless have loved to. We moved on, wishing we'd spent more time there.&amp;nbsp;Since the bridge over the spillway of the dam was still under construction, we took a fun detour: Rode down the sides of the bank, across the bed of the stream, up the other bank and back to the road!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, there are two dams at Chittar: Chittar dam-1 and Chittar dam-2 (as if you wouldn't have guessed!)&lt;br /&gt;The road from Pechiparai to Chittar-1 has plenty of sights to offer. At one point, we even got off from the scooter and trespassed into a very inviting rubber estate, drinking in all the greenery and pandering to the camera's demands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDFo7mbwWQI/AAAAAAAAAK0/s_jpTaPCne8/s1600/IMG_6675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDFo7mbwWQI/AAAAAAAAAK0/s_jpTaPCne8/s320/IMG_6675.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Chittar-1 is the smaller of the two. The low wall of the dam abuts the road. The reservoir was not full at the time, enabling us to climb over the dam and into the &lt;i&gt;terra firma&lt;/i&gt; that led up to the waterfront. The view was magnificent! A thick carpet of grass spread itself from the inner wall of the dam all the way to the lake. The unassuming hills on the opposite bank of the lake, the shade of the sky and a soothing breeze, taken together, had the effect of casting a spell on us, holding us bewitched for several minutes. It was the camera, obviously cross for being momentarily neglected, that tapped &amp;nbsp;us on our shoulders and took us out of the trance. About a hundred feet to our right, a man was bathing his cows in the lake, singing to them. Everyday routine for him, sigh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDGKNXBpFlI/AAAAAAAAALs/yDlVwgbwjk0/s1600/IMG_6696+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDGKNXBpFlI/AAAAAAAAALs/yDlVwgbwjk0/s200/IMG_6696+(2).jpg" width="143" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It was past noon by now. Of course, there were no restaurants in sight! We sped off to Chittar-2. There was this particular stretch of road, very narrow, that cut across through rubber estates on either side. Had here been a fog, it would've looked really spooky; and really romantic! We paused our journey and stretched out for a bit- right in the middle of the road! The canopy was enchanting, and the sunlight could filter through the leaves only if it made a bit of an effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDFxfhVxuDI/AAAAAAAAAK8/St_ipxmBUpM/s1600/IMG_6699.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="347" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDFxfhVxuDI/AAAAAAAAAK8/St_ipxmBUpM/s400/IMG_6699.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Finally, we reached Chittar-2. We were given to understand that this was the place where a &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xk3Na0svz3o"&gt;part of the movie, '&lt;i&gt;Rithu&lt;/i&gt;'&lt;/a&gt;, was shot. The dam here is much larger. We parked the scooter on the&amp;nbsp;road&amp;nbsp;and walked towards the dam. &lt;i&gt;Gulmohars&lt;/i&gt; in full bloom greeted us at the start of the walkway. Half a kilometre later, we reached the reservoir. It was a most beautiful spectacle. The lake, the mountains and the clouds played visual accomplice, while the breeze robbed us of all the reserve in our manner. I'd heard the expression, 'to throw caution to the wind' before; got to experience it first-hand there! It's very difficult to abstain from dancing when Ecstasy ripples across your soul. The spine goes a -tingle, the heart a-flutter and the spirit a-twitter! We suddenly felt a burning envy for all the winged creatures on the planet! What was more, there was not a soul in sight! We had the entire place to ourselves!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDF0mltvrYI/AAAAAAAAALE/aoWn8oZJNDc/s1600/IMG_6799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="302" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDF0mltvrYI/AAAAAAAAALE/aoWn8oZJNDc/s400/IMG_6799.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked along the dam, intoxicated by the sheer charisma of the place. At the other end of the dam, there is a dead tree that stands out on the edge of the lake. A round boat was drawn up to the shore near the tree. A herd of plump goats grazing in the grass nearby stared at us in pure astonishment, as though wondering what in the name of Chittar's-Greenest-Grass were these two human beings doing in this part of the world!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDGDPH4ecnI/AAAAAAAAALU/4rKoqXgWndE/s1600/IMG_6750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="330" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDGDPH4ecnI/AAAAAAAAALU/4rKoqXgWndE/s400/IMG_6750.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An abandoned shed lay further up, frozen in time. Weeds that were a golden-yellow shade and almost two-feet tall swayed gently, enslaving themselves to the whims of the winds that playfully sashayed over this placid paradise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDGGP-uGVuI/AAAAAAAAALc/m5ItUWDCANk/s1600/IMG_6749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="333" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDGGP-uGVuI/AAAAAAAAALc/m5ItUWDCANk/s400/IMG_6749.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left the place by around 3 in the afternoon. Took a different route on the way back, a shorter one. Entered the highway at Kuzhithurai jn. and dug in into lunch. The trip sort of imparted a whole new meaning to the term 'rejuvenation'. A perfect picnic spot, far, far away from the madding crowds. A photographer's holy altar. An idyllic retreat best suited for soul-searching. To top it all, a stone's throw away from Trivandrum!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDGJJaD1nNI/AAAAAAAAALk/5o7z1o5f_oY/s1600/IMG_6783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="347" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDGJJaD1nNI/AAAAAAAAALk/5o7z1o5f_oY/s400/IMG_6783.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&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/1074927742352006744-1200653486364077126?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/1200653486364077126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=1200653486364077126' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/1200653486364077126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/1200653486364077126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2010/07/goats-that-stare-at-men.html' title='Chittar Dam: The word that paints a thousand pictures!'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDDY8wkrFqI/AAAAAAAAAKk/pJf6DE5b9t0/s72-c/IMG_6633.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-4868315667077810911</id><published>2010-04-05T00:17:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:03:11.577+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the lighter vein'/><title type='text'>To dot the ice and cross the tees</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;We've all heard the immortal and wise saying, &lt;i&gt;'Half a loaf-er is better than none'&lt;/i&gt;.. Inspired by the pith of this celebrated adage, and with a sudden urge to better myself, i promptly decided to loaf around.. and so, &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/tuxerman"&gt;@tuxerman&lt;/a&gt; and yours truly started &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/schreiwarduhnn"&gt;tweeting&lt;/a&gt; a few one-liners.. twisting a proverb here, contorting an idiom there..  We dedicate these twisted nuggets to &lt;a href="http://narendrashenoy.blogspot.com/"&gt;Narendra Shenoy&lt;/a&gt;, who loves making up long, winding stories around punny one-liners.. which, by the way, are now popularly called 'shenoys'! :) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;[Ye shall find sriram's tweets &lt;a href="http://anotherbloggerbloke.blogspot.com/2010/04/om-wit-tala-wit-tala-pun-duranga.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alrighty then.. setting my hand to plough.. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When osama's men crashed on the World Trade Centre, they cut a long storey short&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's when u write ur lab record that u realise that the graph is greener on the other side&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Leopards in the zoo never move about. They sit in a corner all day. And y is that? Because a leopard can never change its spot(s)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When u've nothing to do on a lazy day, u realise that all roads lead to Roam&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Believe me, there are a lot of people who care abt the environment. They consume cartloads of spinach for dinner, wake up early in the morning and start their day by Going Green.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Samsung LCD displays sell because they ain't afraid to show their true colours&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jayan picked up his lightener and lit his cigarette. After he was done smoking with one, he stood in the same place and contemplated a second cigarette. He flashed his lightener. Didn't work.. because Lighten-er never strikes twice in the same place, duh!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did u see his new sportscar? It's the torque of the town..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If Fate turned Thakur (of sholay) adrift on the streets , he would probably go begging for arms first, and alms later&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The whole town plunged into darkness, when in a fit of rage, two electric lines decided to meet phase-to-phase&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MNS leaders can't stand north indians living in maharashtra. They're always on the lookout for hindi-bashing opportunities. And we know that Raj Thackeray wears glasses. So, it's true what they say: Hind(i)sight is always twenty-twenty&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If a child is born obese, it's mother is forced to give a wide birth to it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If Nandan Nilekani, the brain behind the Unique Identification Authority, were to suddenly turn into an insane wreck, he would have taken leave of his census.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The juice-shop owner has had a great business this season: his story has been of profets and sheikhs!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If there's a heavy rush outside public toilets, people waiting for their turn tend to get all irate and restless. Really, they ought to mind their Pee's and Queue's!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jharkhand has not registered much growth, despite being a state with Iron mines all over the place. I guess that's what they call an Irony!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bit.ly/9wjgHV"&gt;(click here)&lt;/a&gt;: '&lt;i&gt;Jintian Company is one that produces yarn-dyed fabric, cowherd's professional factory...'&lt;/i&gt; Positive proof to show that 'Cowherds dye many times before their death' :P&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, all's swell that ends swell!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-4868315667077810911?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/4868315667077810911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=4868315667077810911' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/4868315667077810911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/4868315667077810911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2010/04/to-dot-ice-and-cross-teas_04.html' title='To dot the ice and cross the tees'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-6373555694119379625</id><published>2010-04-03T20:21:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-07T16:53:31.430+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tribute'/><title type='text'>So long! Farewell! It's time to say goodbye!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/S7dzbbGoIjI/AAAAAAAAAKc/hS6FD3hchMQ/s1600/k.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455956388551860786" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/S7dzbbGoIjI/AAAAAAAAAKc/hS6FD3hchMQ/s400/k.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 263px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;At last, the time has come to bid adieu to our alma mater- CET. Four years have meandered by, softly, silently.. moulding us into engineers along the way.. preparing us to face the challenges in life.. empowering us into responsible citizens of the nation.. Yes, i believe CET has done all this devotedly and more..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's a lot to feel grateful for.. friends, teachers.. the college facilities, the placements..  the greenery, the old-world charm... the leisurely pace at which life chugs along in the campus.. a strange, ironic, but definite, sense of purpose emanating from the laid-back haven that is CET..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and there are a few things that, had they been different, would have helped boost our hopes and aspirations even higher..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Forever obliged to all the people i've met.. 4 years of being together undoubtedly makes u wiser by a jugful &amp;amp; gets u closer to people: helps u in knowing and understanding them.. and knowing and understanding yourself.. Every person u meet comes from a different background, and there's always something for u to learn from him/her.. It has opened up new channels of thought, revealed different ways of looking at things, broadened ur horizon, forged amazing relationships..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Four years have showered us with memories to cherish and opportunities to learn.. We've celebrated, laughed and made merry.. in our journey, many a time we'd been derailed, but we've patched up.. Even at times when the group dynamics didn't seem right, there must've been a collective feeling of pain..an eagerness to make amends.. and now, when it's time to part, there seems to be an unexpressed wave of emotions floating in the air, making its presence felt..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the end of it all, only when u look back u realise how far u've come.. how far u've progressed.. how much u're richer by.. There's plenty more to write, of course.. these 4 years have been special indeed..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I shall miss the campus, my friends and all that we've been through together.. All the same, i'm looking forward to the next step in life that college has prepared me for.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Proud to be a CETian!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-6373555694119379625?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/6373555694119379625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=6373555694119379625' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/6373555694119379625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/6373555694119379625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2010/04/so-long-farewell-its-time-to-say.html' title='So long! Farewell! It&apos;s time to say goodbye!'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/S7dzbbGoIjI/AAAAAAAAAKc/hS6FD3hchMQ/s72-c/k.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-5281904192686951329</id><published>2010-02-27T08:25:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-07-15T21:10:40.865+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='traveler&apos;s notes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><title type='text'>Intruder in Wonderland</title><content type='html'>I do not know where it was. I cannot recollect when it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oddly enough, a part of me is happy that I do not remember the details. Another part of me is trying hard to guess them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was trotting up the mountain path. The mist was gliding along, hugging the luxuriant slopes in its heavenward gait. I found myself fluxed by the mist&lt;b&gt;: '&lt;/b&gt;practically inside a cloud', i fancied... In a matter of seconds, the whole valley disappeared from view...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Looking around in the mist, I couldn't discern much from the faint silhouettes shimmering a few yards away. They appeared to be signalling something. Directions, perhaps. I took them to be either shrubs or rocks, and kept walking. It felt insanely satisfying. Tiny droplets of water be-dewed me as i ambled along.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mists are true travelers. They do not plan ahead. Nor do they know of their destination. They listen to the Wind when it grows powerful. They hover around mountains, at times making them look beautiful. This mist, in particular, was in no obvious hurry. Not wanting to miss out on any more views of the valley, I decided to halt and reclined upon a smooth rock. I closed my eyes and felt myself dissolving into the mist.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Percussion.. Rhythmic strokes.. Somewhere in the distance. I stirred slowly from sleep. The rhythmic strokes started again: the sound that a sharp beak makes when it caves in into a hardwood tree. Ah! I'd woken up to the melody of a woodpecker at its day's work. I opened my eyes and scanned the place. The mist had sailed on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was not even a suggestion of the mountain path anywhere in the vicinity. I must've strayed off a long way. I discovered that I was near the edge of a mountain. Obviously intrigued, i walked towards the edge and peered down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If i describe what met my eyes as merely hair-raising, heart-stopping or spine-tingling, I should be punished. It was nothing less than spiritually uplifting!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Flowers: Hundreds and Thousands of them!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Theme: Fragrance and Colour!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Artist: He who created the World.. who left this part of it unknown to Man.. and who momentarily lost vigil: when a man wandered into His finest piece of art, hiding under a cloak in the shape of a mist.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/S4px0xK81-I/AAAAAAAAAKU/0ffZIHD0ryw/s1600-h/Untitled.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443288250997069794" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/S4px0xK81-I/AAAAAAAAAKU/0ffZIHD0ryw/s400/Untitled.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 283px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The mist had left pearls on their merry petals. These flowers had seen nothing of the world.. and the world had seen nothing of them.. If ignorance was bliss, it was only theirs.. The ponderer somewhere in me felt troubled.. For whom do these flowers blossom everyday? Apart from the mist, wind and rain, who appreciates their beauty? Why did God even create them, only to keep them a secret unknown to the world? For years and years, the flowers must've bloomed everyday, not knowing how wonderfully charming they are, not knowing that a world of men exists, that a few of these men would admire them endlessly. Why did God have to rob us both of what we deserve?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thomas Gray's legendary lines came to my mind:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cecbd4; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 15px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cecbd4; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 15px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cecbd4; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 15px;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And waste its sweetness on the desert air.'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Perhaps He did it for a reason. &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Midas"&gt;Midas&lt;/a&gt;, as we know, turned everything he touched into gold. Maybe Midas is none other than Man himself..  and just like Midas' own daughter who turned to gold upon his touch.. he ends up losing even those things he holds close to his heart, for Gold.. for materialistic gain and a queer pleasure only Man can identify with..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Perhaps &lt;a href="http://images.google.co.in/images?um=1&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;rlz=1C1CHOE_en-ININ357IN357&amp;amp;tbs=isch:1&amp;amp;sa=1&amp;amp;q=valley+of+flowers+india&amp;amp;btnG=Search&amp;amp;aq=1&amp;amp;oq=valley+of+flowers&amp;amp;start=0"&gt;many more such valleys&lt;/a&gt; exist, unknown to us.. The more unknown they are, the better..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-5281904192686951329?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/5281904192686951329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=5281904192686951329' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/5281904192686951329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/5281904192686951329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2010/02/intruder-in-wonderland_26.html' title='Intruder in Wonderland'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/S4px0xK81-I/AAAAAAAAAKU/0ffZIHD0ryw/s72-c/Untitled.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-7653976158517238961</id><published>2010-01-13T23:27:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:04:35.360+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the lighter vein'/><title type='text'>A tough pill to swallow</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Who says brave men do not have secret fears? FYI, Wisdom says, “ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;After all..a brave man is also a human being.. and there’s bound to be Something that inspires fear in him&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;”.. Something that would send a shiver down his spine.. Something that would remind him of his weakness.. and strike him down, knocking him off his bearings..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;..and when that terrible Something happens, all his celebrated bravery gets thwarted.. Speaking of brave men, Achilles seemed to have had a rather notorious problem with his heel.. And i... well, i have had a rather nasty problem with swallowing pills.. gulp!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Yeah.. the very thought of having to swallow a pill would scare the bugeeses out of me!! If u must know, i have my reasons too.. It all started when i was in the 4th grade.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;One day.. without prior notice, a Giant Pink Lollipop decided to get ensconced in my throat.. just like that.. what nerve!! You see, usually i'm a friendly, hospitable guy and i like entertaining guests.. but this time, i refused to be humoured.. i simply couldn't bring myself to pander to lollipops and their unreasonable whims..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And so.. with all the lung power i could muster, i volleyed to get the rascal out of his hidey-hole.. i coughed and splattered.. i tried new-age yoga techniques for rapid-air-expulsion.. Several abortive attempts later, i gave up.. defeated and subdued.. bravery &amp;amp; confidence shattered.. I couldn’t do it on my own..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;After this ghastly accident, every time i had to see a doctor.. the cruel memory came knocking on my door.. (trying to haunt me with a lollipop the size of a fully blown balloon)... I developed a great dislike for doctors who prescribed too many pills..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;for Wisdom says, "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eat fruits, Drink water and Do exercises.. oh! and if possible, Shun pills!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;But in order to remain in the pink of health, i was forced to take those pills, no matter what.. So I came up with an ingenious solution to end my pill-swallowing woes..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Step 1) take a glass of water..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Step 2) place the pill on a flat surface, such as a dining table.. pick up a heavy object.. mercilessly crush the tablet to powder..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Step 3) gloat over the crushed pill and let out an evil laugh/guffaw for added effect..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Step 4) mix the powder in the water and... whoosh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Back to healthy! No swallows, no hassles!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;One day in summer, a neighbour of mine found out abt Operation Kill Pill.. and within hours, the whole colony was talking abt The Boy Who Couldn't Swallow... My neighbour was a formidable lady with big, round eyes and a towering stature.. the unofficial Gossip Queen (G.Q.) of the neighbourhood.. i used to be scared to death of her.. whenever she spotted something interesting, her eyes would pop out like tadpoles jumping out of a well.. needless to say, this mimicry of amphibian life terrified children in the neighbourhood..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;..but Wisdom says, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Stand up to your fears"...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;and i was a brave man.. So, i took it up as a challenge.. determined to swallow, i picked up a carton of Cadbury's Gems.. took out a Gem.. sat out on the terrace, relaxed my throat and summoned up my bravery.. taking a deep breath, i placed the Gem on my tongue, sipped water... and tried to swallow it.. and it worked! I was elated, overjoyed! There was a surge of confidence in me.. the feeling of triumph in overcoming an irrational fear!... It may have been the summer heat, but I wanted to try it again.. I wanted to overcome the fear once and for all!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I picked up another Gem and readied myself.. and then, events started unfolding in quick succession..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;As i sipped some water, there was a sudden commotion behind me.. halfway thru' the process, with face turned upward and not in the best of positions...i turned around to the source of the noise..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;i saw Madame G.Q. and some of her gossipmates, lined up like a Brigade, ready to pry and attack..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Gossipmate#1 pointed &amp;amp; gasped, "Look, vasumati! he's swallowing!"..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Madame G.Q.'s eyes popped out..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;My throat gagged up.. i choked.. the Gem got stuck in my throat again..The old memory flashed before my eyes..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Gossipmate#2 pointed &amp;amp; gasped, "Look, vasumati! he's choking!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Madame G.Q.'s eyes popped out more.. the tadpoles wanting to fly out like never before, but alas, falling short of escape velocity..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Fear completely gripped me.. my throat went loose.. As if by reflex, i coughed, and the Gem went flying out, narrowly missing G.Q's tadpole wells..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;the Gossip Brigade did the customary pointing &amp;amp; gasping again.. Then, sensing that there remained nothing else to do, the Brigade broke away..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;As for me, i was back where i started.. The rest of summer was not a very grand time for me either..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Well..u know what Wisdom says- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;"One swallow does not make a summer"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-7653976158517238961?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/7653976158517238961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=7653976158517238961' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/7653976158517238961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/7653976158517238961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2010/01/tough-pill-to-swallow_13.html' title='A tough pill to swallow'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-9027141284564750293</id><published>2009-12-23T16:29:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:05:04.118+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the lighter vein'/><title type='text'>The crows-connection</title><content type='html'>Windows and balconies were invented just so that Man could gaze at the world outside and ponder..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Electrical lines and cables were invented just so that birds could perch on them and ponder..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If either of the aforementioned species has the company of another member of the same species, the pondering turns into conversation..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gazed out of the window.. A crow was perched on an electrical line.. She was obviously pondering.. Another crow came flying by and took perch on the adjacent electrical line..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1&lt;/span&gt;: Hey.. what's up??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2&lt;/span&gt;: Ah! There u r.. heard u finally got a placement on top of Burj Dubai.. congratulations! &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(offers handshake/wingshake)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1&lt;/span&gt;: wha...backoff!! wingshake? u out of ur senses? We're sitting on electrical lines of different phase voltages.. if u touched me, we'd form a circuit with a voltage difference that would kill bo......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2&lt;/span&gt;: okay, fine! cut the crap!! damn those humans! knives and fire everywhere..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1&lt;/span&gt;: hehe.. thanks, by the way.. yeah, the Burj is indeed spectacular.. but i wonder what humans are really after..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2&lt;/span&gt;: what do u mean??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1&lt;/span&gt;: Look at us..we're such a peaceful lot.. and look at them.. they're so restless..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2:&lt;/span&gt; hmm.. Evolution has been cruel to them, u say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1:&lt;/span&gt; well, u could put it that way.. they've evolved too much for their own good.. now every man wants to be better than the next..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2:&lt;/span&gt; hmm.. u're right.. chronic restlessness.. the insurmountable itch to 'progress'..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1:&lt;/span&gt; yeah.. and i'm not really comfortable with their definition of 'progress' either.. it's got a lot to do with brute force and brute reason!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2:&lt;/span&gt; It's like.. where one man gains, another &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;has to&lt;/span&gt; lose.. it's like an endless, perpetual see-saw..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1:&lt;/span&gt; Believe me.. this see-saw is incidentally what keeps the world going..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2:&lt;/span&gt; eh? what do u mean? that inequality and imperfection are the hands that run the world??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1:&lt;/span&gt; Not really.. we know that man is, ultimately, selfish.. their world, unlike ours, will never become perfect.. there will always exist differences that'll bother man to insanity.. and these differences keep the see-saw in motion.. and Evolution in action..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2:&lt;/span&gt; hmm.. alright.. and what abt us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1:&lt;/span&gt; Well, we are different..and way better off.. our happiness is absolute.. if i get my supper and u get yours, we're both happy.. as for man, it's a very complicated relative matrix of needs, passions and emotions.. that are forever trying to balance each other..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2:&lt;/span&gt; ...and the fact that 'it's all relative' makes things as they are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1:&lt;/span&gt; yeah.. their world needs as fuel - jealousy, anger, lethargy, fear, folly, hatred and imperfection.. otherwise it would crumble down and mankind would fall..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2:&lt;/span&gt; er.. didn't get u at all..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1:&lt;/span&gt; If every man were happy, then civilization would fall.. If every man were contended, his life wouldn't be different from ours.. all he would have to do is eat and sleep..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2:&lt;/span&gt; Eat and sleep and ponder*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1:&lt;/span&gt; hehe.. yeah, right! in such a world, there would be no disease, no crime, no hunger.. Necessity would be a non-existent concept.. Man wouldn't evolve.. he would stay put.. he wouldn't budge.. no art, no culture, no sophistication.. the world would be a very predictable, boring place..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2:&lt;/span&gt; So true.. and it all wonderfully connects!&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; 'All the world's a stage, all the men and women merely players, and all of us crows merely spectators!'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1:&lt;/span&gt; ha! Shakespeare, in all his hurry, left out the last bit.. poor bloke probably thought we crows wouldn't know of it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2:&lt;/span&gt; Yeah! So much for all the entertainment! Man ought to live! Manwatching is a glorious pastime..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 1:&lt;/span&gt; hehe.. Anyway, i'm gonna take off now.. it's been gr8 talking to u.. caw-caw!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Crow 2:&lt;/span&gt; Caw-caw!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SzIjEn6lDZI/AAAAAAAAAJs/ebiM57QlLYc/s1600-h/stock-photo--birds-sitting-in-line-on-a-telephone-line-39032443.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418431864021257618" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SzIjEn6lDZI/AAAAAAAAAJs/ebiM57QlLYc/s400/stock-photo--birds-sitting-in-line-on-a-telephone-line-39032443.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 212px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #333333; font-size: 100%; font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pic: The Global Ponderers' Summit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(P.S: Unless you feel guilty abt Not Blogging for 2 months at a stretch, never ever listen to a conversation between crows! Caw-caw!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-9027141284564750293?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/9027141284564750293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=9027141284564750293' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/9027141284564750293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/9027141284564750293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2009/12/crows-connection.html' title='The crows-connection'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SzIjEn6lDZI/AAAAAAAAAJs/ebiM57QlLYc/s72-c/stock-photo--birds-sitting-in-line-on-a-telephone-line-39032443.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-4805841624741465566</id><published>2009-10-29T18:07:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:07:34.418+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><title type='text'>Nostalgia that flooded in through the curtains...</title><content type='html'>It must have been nearly 7 years ago..&lt;br /&gt;That was the last time i heard that delightful sound.. the last time i enjoyed watching the lantern swaying gently.. faint and flickering..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, an hour before sunrise, as i opened the window facing the street.. the world greeted me with a curiously familiar swish of morning breeze..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The streetlights were out.. In the darkness, I could barely make out where the front gate stood.. It had been raining all night.. The scent of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;paala&lt;/span&gt; flowers still lingered on in the frigid morning air.. Then, it happened again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The breeze, as if gathering the scent and sweet chillness into a bouquet, rollicked in through the window..brushing the curtains away.. and tried again to make me remember.. as it caressed my face and broke away.. withering the bouquet along.. shredding the scent and chillness upon me... and along with it - a memory..&lt;br /&gt;it was &lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;dé⋅jà vu&lt;/span&gt; all over again..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was on a day, exactly like this, that i saw it and heard it for the last time.. I remembered.. Every morning, an hour before sunrise, a bullock-cart would trudge along the street..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The clitter-clatter of footsteps, the melodious percussion of the cartwheels going around, and the tinkering of the bells that adorned the beasts' neck..&lt;br /&gt;suspended below the cart near the front, there would be a lantern burning out its wick, showing the way.. dancing to the rhythm of the cart shuffling along..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gentle portrayal of the pace of a calm, contended lifestyle on the one hand..  a luxury-entertainment for an urban brat like me, on the other.. something i may never be able to afford again..&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/Suw_onhWOMI/AAAAAAAAAJg/sQy5pUdNDy4/s1600-h/Pravara_Cart_Small.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398760020346550466" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/Suw_onhWOMI/AAAAAAAAAJg/sQy5pUdNDy4/s400/Pravara_Cart_Small.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 238px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 292px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As i wallowed into nostalgia, several such recollections fleeted by..&lt;br /&gt;the squirrels that came running for the promised handful of groundnuts every morning.. mynas that chirped and tweeted about the day's agenda.. and the debonair spinach vendor ringing his bicycle bell, gliding by.. occasionally, one could hear a cuckoo perform from a tree branch, and sight eagles sitting atop the Arts College building, scanning the skies..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're all fading away.. melting into oblivion.. I fear that the next generation would, perhaps, never get to enjoy these titillating little experiences at all..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked up the day's newspaper.. On the supplement, the headline appeared to scoff at my thoughts..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"&lt;a href="http://www.thehindubusinessline.com/catalyst/2009/10/29/stories/2009102950010100.htm"&gt;Mobile, TV are Life Enhancers&lt;/a&gt;"&lt;/span&gt; - Ajay Puri, Director &amp;amp; CEO - DTH, Bharti Airtel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No wonder! sigh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-4805841624741465566?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/4805841624741465566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=4805841624741465566' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/4805841624741465566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/4805841624741465566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2009/10/nostalgia-that-flooded-through-curtains.html' title='Nostalgia that flooded in through the curtains...'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/Suw_onhWOMI/AAAAAAAAAJg/sQy5pUdNDy4/s72-c/Pravara_Cart_Small.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-3020644364196454230</id><published>2009-10-19T17:49:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-20T07:06:56.592+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tagged'/><title type='text'>Tagged!</title><content type='html'>With people moving on from one form of social networking to another, i guess Blogal Warming has been brought down a lot.. The urge to put up something new on one's blog is fading away, added to the fact that life is tightening its screws everyday.. (hey, that rhymed!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shanky (happynuts) has tagged me.. and i signed in into my blogger dashboard after nearly 20 days! Thanks for the tag, pal :)&lt;br /&gt;Here goes..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My eyes..they give my wisdom away..&lt;/span&gt; :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. How much cash do you have in your wallet right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Around 100 bucks (with some emergency cash stowed away in an inner flap!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. What’s a word that rhymes with DOOR?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;er.. i simply don't know why 'Al Gore' had to pop up in my head!&lt;/span&gt; (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Going green, i guess..sigh!&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jiya Jale - Fluid (flute)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sumesh aircel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. What are you wearing right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the usual&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Do you label yourself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;er..Non-labeller (wait a minute, isn't that another label??)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Bright or Dark Room?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Depends on the weather without and the mood within&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shanky: A very cool person, smiles all the time. Sunny and positive!&lt;/span&gt; :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. What does your watch look like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I have a Casio digital for daily use (been keeping good time for 9 yrs)..and a silver Swiscardin for occasions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. What were you doing at midnight last night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Taking a stroll on the terrace&lt;/span&gt;..&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;watching the finale of the Diwali fireworks&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. What did your last text message you received on your cell say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"God bless SpongeBob SquarePants!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    -Abhinav Dasgupta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. What’s a word that you say a lot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'actually' !!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Who told you he/she loved you last? (Please exclude spouse, family, children)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My music sir, who taught me carnatic music while i was at school. He's 80+. His affection spoke these words when i'd gone to pay my respects on the day of Vijayadasami :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. Last furry thing you touched&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Er..can't remember..no pets at home..do soft toys count?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Favorite age you have been so far?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;13-15. Ah! the good old school days!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. What was the last thing you said to someone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Speed petrol for 100Rs."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. The last song you listened to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'Primavera' by Ludovico Einaudi&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bliss!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Where did you live in 1987?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ah.. Previous birth, eh? let me see..i bet i was an emperor penguin in Antarctica!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Are you jealous of anyone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Siddharth Vinayak Patankar. The guy who hosts the Car &amp;amp; Bike show, NDTV.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Is anyone jealous of you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't think so. No green-eyed monster looking at me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Name three things that you have on you at all times&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A handkerchief, my watch..and of late, my glasses..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. What’s your favorite town/city?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Any city with a lot of culture and greenery.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Two months back, to the NTSE office. The dumbos sitting in the aforementioned office are the sole reason why Redtapism exists on earth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. Can you change the oil on a car?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Your first love/big crush: what is the last thing you heard about him/her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;They don't manufacture RD350's nowadays. Heard one zoom past my house last week. She had disappeared b4 i got to the window :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Does anything hurt on your body right now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No, I'm as fit as a fiddle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. What is your current desktop picture?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One among the 900-odd scenic photos from my Webshots Desktop collection. Pic changes every 15 mins. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.webshots.com/g/tr/hr-hr/69138.html"&gt;(Current pic)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;30. Have you been burnt by love?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yes, in the sense, i've been burnt many times by realising that i don't give as much love as i receive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whew! that was quite a set.. relatively easier than other sets of questions we people usually see :P&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to shanky again for the tag! I'd like to tag unnithan, rinz and n5!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-3020644364196454230?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/3020644364196454230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=3020644364196454230' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/3020644364196454230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/3020644364196454230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2009/10/tagged.html' title='Tagged!'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-4416068140170273535</id><published>2009-09-27T19:48:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:21:13.196+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='satire'/><title type='text'>Refer Textbook, Page XYZ</title><content type='html'>Nowadays in college, free hours are hard to come by.. All of a sudden, students have become attendance-lovers too.. Proxies have lost their appeal.. Strange thing to happen in a final year-engineering class, u would say.. Gladdening development for the dept., but strange nevertheless..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, teachers are part of this conspiracy too.. They engage every single class, to the point of overdoing it.. The overdoing part refers to keeping the students "engaged/busy" &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;even if the teacher is on leave!!&lt;/span&gt;.. Inspired, no doubt, by a routine trick used to handle mischievous kids in primary school.. under the pretext of SUPW or the likes of it..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprised? Don't be.. After-all, there &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;are&lt;/span&gt; some cheap tricks that do work on a bunch of 21 year-olds! Cheap, but effective.. 'Make them an offer they can't refuse!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Allow me to narrate how and why.. One day, we came to know that one of our teachers was on leave.. So, we were anticipating a free-hour in the middle of the day.. one which brings out a lovely colour in everyone.. which unhooks, relieves and liberates.. One which gives u that extra kick that makes all the difference!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as I was saying, this teacher was on leave.. but she had other plans up her sleeve and wouldn't spare us the arrows.. Perhaps she dreaded the thought of sixty odd 21-year olds wantonly roaming about the campus, up to no good.. So, she racked her brains.. The devil pulled the levers for her in the background.. An idea clicked in her head.. and voila! We were to take an&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; open-book test&lt;/span&gt; in her absence.. What an idea, sirjee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from the fact that open-book tests are one of the most boring activities in life, I just can't understand their philosophy.. I mean, we are given a few standard, direct questions.. the answers are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Right There&lt;/span&gt; in the textbook.. All we really need to do is to look at the contents page, locate the topic and start the mechanical process commonly known as copying/writing..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This wasn't all.. the open-book test was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;invigilated&lt;/span&gt;! Wtf?? I guess, these are the kind of situations that lead to new terms being coined.. like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'Ethical Copying'!!&lt;/span&gt; This also meant that another teacher had lost &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt; free hour to this futile, pointless exercise.. Devil's own handiwork, no doubt.. What we have here is a lose-lose strategy..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ponderer that i am, i took a casual glance around the class.. "Wow! Sixty odd 21-year olds, who would be involved in the process of Nation-Building in a year from now..perfunctorily replicating answers directly from a capsule-size textbook onto a piece of paper, motivated only by the promise of being awarded sessional marks, or rather, threatened by the opposite!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some exchanged textbooks. Some discussed. Some wrote with a vengeance. Some others sharpened their pencils and took position, complete with ruler and eraser. Some looked around the class just like I did. It was like a 'Who's the fastest photocopier machine contest'. Such a machine, as u must already know, is not designed to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;absorb/understand&lt;/span&gt; the content to be copied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The invigilator looked lost. Her face revealed her plight.. one doesn't have to be very creative to &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/Sr-q1c2BFHI/AAAAAAAAAJY/afk4VetMHLk/s1600-h/evil-smiley-face.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386211514610947186" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/Sr-q1c2BFHI/AAAAAAAAAJY/afk4VetMHLk/s400/evil-smiley-face.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 138px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 144px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;think of what all one can do if a 1-hour break is on the offing..Well, at least the H.O.D would be pleased to know that such a ritual went off well.. and our teacher would be smug and smiling by now..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pointless, about sums it up. I'm not going to be known as 'The Father of Ethical Copying' either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the 'test':&lt;br /&gt;21-yr old #1: How was the test?&lt;br /&gt;21-yr old #2: Sh*t man! Didn't get time to do the numerical..&lt;br /&gt;#1: oh! Luckily, i got that one.. messed up the diagrams though..&lt;br /&gt;#2: really? i used scale and pencil.. we'll get marks for neat diagrams..&lt;br /&gt;#1: u serious? i'm in deep sh*t then.. will lose 'x' marks..&lt;br /&gt;#2: that's just 'y' marks from ur sessionals and 'z' from ur gpa..&lt;br /&gt;(blah.. blah.. blah..)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, there are people who never learn.. despite the metaphorical open-book laid out in front of them..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%; font-style: italic;"&gt;(Disclaimer: The test actually took place, but the conversation did not. Any resemblance, in full or part, to the conversation is purely co-incidental. My sincere apologies..and heartfelt sympathies!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-4416068140170273535?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/4416068140170273535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=4416068140170273535' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/4416068140170273535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/4416068140170273535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2009/09/refer-textbook-page-xyz.html' title='Refer Textbook, Page XYZ'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/Sr-q1c2BFHI/AAAAAAAAAJY/afk4VetMHLk/s72-c/evil-smiley-face.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-1429797403403947321</id><published>2009-07-27T23:06:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:17:22.069+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my book of complaints'/><title type='text'>News u need to know about the news</title><content type='html'>Familiar Fact: Indian megaserials are over dramatized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some critics believe that no other kind of TV show on earth can match up to these sobfests, leave alone surpass them..especially in parameters like ridiculousness, depression inducing ability and outright stupidity..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These critics are obviously wrong.. Perhaps they're not acquainted with our &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;news shows!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;News shows&lt;/span&gt; are what people used to call &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;news programmes&lt;/span&gt; earlier.. where first they flashed the top stories of the day, and went on to report &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;facts&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;events&lt;/span&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;Today, news shows are structured almost in the same manner.. Only that u have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;inferences&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;judgements&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;extended editions&lt;/span&gt; instead..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In news &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;programmes&lt;/span&gt;, the reporter was the politer one, though the people being interviewed had the freedom to be crass and unrefined in their speech..&lt;br /&gt;Whereas, in news&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; shows&lt;/span&gt;, the reporter/ presenter speaks the loudest.. with the power of media freedom bestowed upon him, he believes he has the right to interrupt and provoke, to be vitriolic and acerbic, to taunt and insult.. while the ones being interviewed need to do their bit of talking adroitly.. the tone, the language and the degree of euphemism hold their voices down..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worse, news shows are usually politically biased, and almost always iconoclastic..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When there's little news to be reported, mountains are made out of molehills..&lt;br /&gt;When there's a lot of news to be reported, they prioritize the stories as per their interests, as per the viewership anticipated, as per the degree of controversy involved in the issue, as per how much the issue can be spiced up further..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When there's bad news to be reported, they &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;reprocess&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;enrich&lt;/span&gt; the facts.. sending disturbing signals all over the place..&lt;br /&gt;When there's good news to be reported, it'll be flashed around in spaces like 'Defining Moments', '1-minute roundup' etc, if the story is lucky enough..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These news shows &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;breed&lt;/span&gt; on controversies, crime, accidents and disasters.. The rhetoric is negative, and worse than reality..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The extremely powerful and the extremely powerless are the only ones who matter.. The common man gets into the show occasionally by way of street opinions on issues that may have little to do with his life..&lt;br /&gt;Even sports news hasn't been spared. More about the controversy. Less about the sport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like the news shows are a flourishing industry.. their belief-system is somewhat simple.. keep people glued to the show.. bombard them with morbid, macabre images of the world.. remind them that they're not safe.. that humanity is degrading.. and that no government is doing anything about it..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new face in business- Demagogy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-1429797403403947321?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/1429797403403947321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=1429797403403947321' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/1429797403403947321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/1429797403403947321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2009/07/news-u-need-to-know-about-news.html' title='News u need to know about the news'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-3955590498418248564</id><published>2009-07-04T22:04:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-07T15:30:50.543+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gobbledygook'/><title type='text'>Backseat Philosophy: - from a new angle!</title><content type='html'>God bless the chap who came up with the whole idea of&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; 'Thought Experiments'!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, u surely know the deal about Ordinary Experiments.. these could be anything ranging from test-tube acrobatics in a chemistry lab, to jumping off from a flying jet..&lt;br /&gt;In the former, if u fail in the first try.. worry not!.. for there's always a second chance..&lt;br /&gt;as for the latter, our jet-jumping hero, well.. here's an idea - if u want to test gravity, please, oh please, use a simple pendulum!! :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I'm trying to say is.. when u do an experiment, u r most likely calling for trouble.. Look at what happened to Ramalinga Raju.. in an abortive attempt to emulate Gandhiji, perhaps, he came up with&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; 'The Story of My Experiments with Satyam'!&lt;/span&gt;! poor soul.. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These abominable things called experiments come with a free package of risks.. I shudder to think of the effects of an experiment gone wrong.. I'm no heart patient, but the prospect of the danger that lurks behind it certainly gives me the creeps, the jitters, the quivers and the shivers! (listed in alphabetical order)..&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SlKxuvL3xEI/AAAAAAAAAI4/W0hoEOqaHsk/s1600-h/thinker.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355538323395298370" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SlKxuvL3xEI/AAAAAAAAAI4/W0hoEOqaHsk/s400/thinker.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 242px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 161px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is precisely why, I'm all for doing Thought Experiments.. its simple.. all u need to do is..plonk on a chair and start thinking out ur experiments.. believe me, Thought Experiments work! Did u know that some of the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thought_experiment"&gt;greatest theories in modern physics&lt;/a&gt; were formed based on Thought experiments? Come on now, did u &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; think Galileo Galilei dropped those balls from the top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa?? No..it was a thought-experiment!!&lt;br /&gt;No risks involved.. u need not actually perform the expts.. and the conclusions u form help u to get ahead in life.. u might even win a Nobel..who can tell???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take it that u must be familiar with motorbikes and how one rides on them.. the sitting position is what i'm alluding to.. Take the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pillion rider's&lt;/span&gt; sitting position.. (as the subject of our Thought Experiment).. Usually, in an Indian scenario, a male pillion perches on the back seat.. with his legs on either side of the bike.. and in most cases, a female pillion sits facing one side of the bike completely..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;U may also agree..that it's very important for us human beings.. to examine life from different &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'angles&lt;/span&gt;'..to look at life from different &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'points of view'&lt;/span&gt;.. Now, this is not so difficult a business to go about, is it? for eg., if u are a man, and u&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; literally&lt;/span&gt; want a different view on life.. du'uh!!  just take the female pillion position on a bike!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I performed this very TE the other day.. My bike was parked outside.. It was night time.. I strolled out into the yard for a bit of breeze, wondering what i could do to view life from a new angle (!?!).. that was when this sudden whim of a Thought Experiment struck me.. I climbed on my bike, crawled over to the pillion's seat.. and sat facing one side completely.. assuming the female pillion position..&lt;br /&gt;and then.. i looked around..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A nameless fear gripped me.. the whole world looked eerie and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;obtuse&lt;/span&gt; (or was it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;reflex&lt;/span&gt;?)!! This position endowed me with a momentary insecurity.. I sat there, looking like a 4-year old child who'd accidentally climbed a tree..and didn't know how to get down.. My head whirled, and i reluctantly imagined how traveling like this would be like..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I regained my balance, I said to myself- 'Wow! so this is how women travel on bikes.. I empathise with them'.. and accordingly, i spent some time empathising with them..&lt;br /&gt;Now u tell me..&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; how&lt;/span&gt; can u feel safe &amp;amp; secure when u know that:&lt;br /&gt;a) u r travelling &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sideways&lt;/span&gt; on a 2-wheeler the whole way&lt;br /&gt;b) u can't lean forward/backward if ur back aches..gotta sit absolutely still&lt;br /&gt;c) u don't have anything 'real' to grab on to&lt;br /&gt;d) when ur bike overtakes an autorickshaw, u can watch the rickshaw guy sulking/swearing away&lt;br /&gt;e) city buses with disgusting/pointed horns chase u like tigers that go after deer&lt;br /&gt;f) u can never actually say how many potholes lie on the road ahead, and be prepared for the shocks&lt;br /&gt;g) u have a 210 degree view of the chaos and mayhem that is urban indian traffic!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SlIrEVzgceI/AAAAAAAAAIw/AktDIkjSrB0/s1600-h/2008012056900501.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355390260469592546" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SlIrEVzgceI/AAAAAAAAAIw/AktDIkjSrB0/s400/2008012056900501.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 298px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 265px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whew! These Thought Experiments sure do give u a deep insight into life...See? A mere thought experiment helped me foresee an experience.. and understand the plight of a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;million pillion&lt;/span&gt; women.. The experiment itself, if performed in real time, would have been nothing short of disastrous..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S:&lt;br /&gt;** The stuff abt Ramalinga Raju is from a cartoon published in The Hindu.. ahem! I give credit wherever credit is due&lt;br /&gt;**I was still shivering 5 minutes after i dismounted from the pillion seat :P&lt;br /&gt;**@ the picture on the right.. both of them are recipients of Bravery Awards of international repute..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-3955590498418248564?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/3955590498418248564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=3955590498418248564' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/3955590498418248564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/3955590498418248564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2009/07/thought-experiment-female-pillions.html' title='Backseat Philosophy: - from a new angle!'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SlKxuvL3xEI/AAAAAAAAAI4/W0hoEOqaHsk/s72-c/thinker.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-5930738048009570142</id><published>2009-06-17T14:41:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:12:39.927+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poetry'/><title type='text'>For I've lost my Friend.. I've lost my way..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SkBCGoo140I/AAAAAAAAAIo/u4qpzJ9oVzI/s1600-h/971503239_95d66322ed.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350349039071519554" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SkBCGoo140I/AAAAAAAAAIo/u4qpzJ9oVzI/s400/971503239_95d66322ed.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 356px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dark clouds swept down on my mind..&lt;br /&gt;Strangling my cheer, with a smile unkind..&lt;br /&gt;They thundered and menaced on my bleeding heart..&lt;br /&gt;They hurled on my sorrow, dart after dart..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trudging through the mist- thick, chill and blind..&lt;br /&gt;I cared nought for what lay 'head or behind..&lt;br /&gt;For Fate stabbed my heart with a cruel knife..&lt;br /&gt;Plundering me of a Friend &amp;amp; joy in life..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O pain &amp;amp; agony! Stop thy wicked play!&lt;br /&gt;For I've lost my Friend.. I've lost my way..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amidst tears and sobs, I rendered them my tale..&lt;br /&gt;and lo! The clouds wept, and away went the gale!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Sun then emerged with a gleam in his eyes,&lt;br /&gt;a smile on his lips, healing all malaise..&lt;br /&gt;Heralding his wake, the burgeoning vale,&lt;br /&gt;unfurled its beauty to the fullest scale!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flowers blossomed forth and scented the air..&lt;br /&gt;Trees danced in the breeze without a care..&lt;br /&gt;Rivulets and creeks gurgled down the dale..&lt;br /&gt;Birds sang &amp;amp; bees buzzed, adorning the vale..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I beheld this portrait of Nature's bliss..&lt;br /&gt;But beneath I felt something amiss!&lt;br /&gt;This new-found joy had filled my soul,&lt;br /&gt;Yet I had none with whom to share this bowl..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt alone, even in a place so charming..&lt;br /&gt;I felt forlorn, in this heaven enchanting..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My joy and my sorrow battled one another..&lt;br /&gt;I stood helpless, for my friend wasn't hither..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of what use is a joy that one can't share???&lt;br /&gt;Of what use is sorrow that none's ears can bear??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dark clouds swept down on me again!!&lt;br /&gt;The vale too sparkled to humour me, in vain!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-5930738048009570142?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/5930738048009570142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=5930738048009570142' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/5930738048009570142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/5930738048009570142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2009/06/for-ive-lost-my-friend-ive-lost-my-way.html' title='For I&apos;ve lost my Friend.. I&apos;ve lost my way..'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SkBCGoo140I/AAAAAAAAAIo/u4qpzJ9oVzI/s72-c/971503239_95d66322ed.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-4705498682864287582</id><published>2009-06-09T09:51:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:12:54.505+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the lighter vein'/><title type='text'>Tawa wars!!!</title><content type='html'>The world is changing..&lt;br /&gt;I can feel it in the wind.. I can smell it in the air..&lt;br /&gt;The sweet smell that wafts by.. flirts with my nostrils..&lt;br /&gt;Yes.. the time has come..&lt;br /&gt;It is now that I must make haste.. I must act quickly..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a warrior drawing his sword, i raised the ladle..&lt;br /&gt;i shoved it underneath the dosa..&lt;br /&gt;and before the flame of the stove blackened the underside.. i swiftly flipped the dosa.. and tossed it back on the tawa..&lt;br /&gt;triumphantly, i withdrew my ladle..&lt;br /&gt;Thus, Dosa side-A was saved..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i admired my work.. enchanted, i beheld the golden-brown glow of the wafery crispness..&lt;br /&gt;then, i looked up the chimney.. and raised my hands in thanksgiving..&lt;br /&gt;'Thank you, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roy_Plunkett"&gt;Roy Plunkett&lt;/a&gt; (of Kinetic Chemicals).. Had it not been for you, we'd never have had the delight of using Non-stick Cookware!!'&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, non-stick tawas 'rock'..( dosa-'kallu'..hehe)!!.. they're coated with&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polytetrafluoroethylene"&gt; teflon&lt;/a&gt;.. which means.. no matter how little ghee/oil/butter u add to the tawa, ur food does &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; stick on to it.. so, u can save on calories n stuff too.. wow!!&lt;br /&gt;Hey.. isn't it quite ironical... that inspite of the Teflon Revolution... cookery-show-aunties are so fat these days??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that being a side-issue.. i thought i'd discuss it later.. during breakfast, perhaps.. "who's fat and who's not" has always been a favourite topic since our non-stick arrived..&lt;br /&gt;And as i waited for the flames to add their finishing touches to Dosa side-B, i turned my thoughts down memory lane..&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/Si34SOtg6wI/AAAAAAAAAIg/LhEzFJojiao/s1600-h/Dosa-Tawa.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345201324828977922" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/Si34SOtg6wI/AAAAAAAAAIg/LhEzFJojiao/s400/Dosa-Tawa.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 162px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 216px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was 8 years ago.. i stood in the kitchen with a ladle in my hand.. my head held high.. (bcos i was trying to smell and assess whether the underside was blackening!!..).. suddenly, the dosa started behaving in a very odd manner.. it coughed and spluttered.. being a helpless 12 year old boy, i ran to fetch my mother.. she came and took over..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;armed with the ladle, both of us struggled to pull the dosa away from the tawa.. it was a tug-of-war between the flames and us.. Fire was claiming the underside for itself.. and we started de-plastering it in every possible way.. (The tawa was a non-Non-stick type!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But alas!.. the dosa had &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;stuck on&lt;/span&gt; blindly.. it was a battle that we lost.. tawas can be very demanding when they grow old.. so we put our foot down, and decided to do away with the monster.. We ordered a brand new non-stick tawa which serves us to this day..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at the non-stick tawa beaming with pride..&lt;br /&gt;But Shock! Horror! Disbelief!! My flashback had come with a price...&lt;br /&gt;Fire was back with an evil grin... to reclaim Dosa side-B!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-4705498682864287582?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/4705498682864287582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=4705498682864287582' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/4705498682864287582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/4705498682864287582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2009/06/tawa-wars.html' title='Tawa wars!!!'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/Si34SOtg6wI/AAAAAAAAAIg/LhEzFJojiao/s72-c/Dosa-Tawa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-83252690207502736</id><published>2009-04-10T21:31:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:13:21.772+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='satire'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the lighter vein'/><title type='text'>GPA: the 'G'rand 'P'icture of 'A'pplied-electronics..</title><content type='html'>I happen to know two people... Arjuna and Krishna... they're fellow engineering students.. krishna is the all-knowing omnipotent one.. arjuna is his friend who admires him endlessly... (hey, now wait a minute.. this sounds a li'l familiar... aha!! mahabharata.. bhagavat gita.. bravo!! u're a genius..)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;krishna is a very knowledgeable fellow.. encyclopaedic, if i may use the word.. he talks abt technology, business, global issues, sports, philosphy... and arjuna simply gapes at him for his sheer intellect, speechless.. awestruck.. inebriated with the nectar of krishna's raw magnetism...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then one day, something happened that turned the world upside down.. no, not an earthquake or a tsunami.. no, no..not a hurricane either.. just take away the natural-disasters-category from ur mind..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;arjuna had asked krishna a question to which he had no answer...&lt;br /&gt;none at all..&lt;br /&gt;krishna blinked.. (but blinking didn't help him find the answer either..)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this was what happened..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Krishna&lt;/b&gt;:  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(finishing lines of prev speech)&lt;/span&gt;.. and that's how nutrigenomics promises a great future for mankind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Arjuna&lt;/b&gt;:  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(dazed, awestruck, dumbfounded etc..)&lt;/span&gt;:.. wow, krishna.. wow!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;K&lt;/b&gt;:   &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(very unassumingly)&lt;/span&gt;.. yes.. its great, i know..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;:   krishna... krishna, can i ask u something?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;K:&lt;/b&gt;   sure..go ahead..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;:   krishna.. what's ur GPA??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(silence)... (krishna thinks he didn't hear the question properly)...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;K&lt;/b&gt;:   er...my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what&lt;/span&gt;... arjuna?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;:   dude.. ur gpa...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Krishna thinks hard.. finally shakes his head.. and says, "dude.. i don't have the foggiest idea what u r talking abt.."&lt;br /&gt;The world stood still.. Sea waves stopped in mid-tide and turned around to look at krishna.. the winds halted, surprised and shocked.. a guy trying to kill himself by jumping off from a flying jet, paused during mid-fall to wonder at what krishna had just said.. he had not heard of GPA..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;:   Du'uh??!! krishna.. u've not heard of GPA??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;K&lt;/b&gt;:    ok now.. enough of this non-sense.. u r just bluffing.. what's this gpa anyway??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(takes a deep breath)&lt;/span&gt;.. krishna... GPA.. is a way of life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;K&lt;/b&gt;:    carry on..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;:    u see.. GPA.. is like this philosophy that runs the wheels of the world..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;K&lt;/b&gt;:   eh??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;A&lt;/b&gt;:   well, how shall i explain it to u?.. GPA is like the universal answer to any question... ANY question..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;K&lt;/b&gt;:   Arjuna! u've kindled my curiosity.. kindly enlighten me..'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(psst..above line adopted from translation of Srimad Bhagavath Gita..hopefully blogger.com won't arrest me for plagiarism/copyright violation!!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Arjuna&lt;/b&gt;:   like i said.. GPA has all the answers..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arjuna elaborated thus...&lt;br /&gt;"Any question, my dear krishna..&lt;br /&gt;Why did the chicken cross the road?..GPA..&lt;br /&gt;How shall i find a suitable life-partner?.. GPA..&lt;br /&gt;How to allot electives to students in CET?.. GPA..&lt;br /&gt;Which brand of underwear should i buy?.. GPA..&lt;br /&gt;God!!! Why me???.. GPA, my dear child..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SfqpnDelLvI/AAAAAAAAAIY/0hcEmc3Do64/s1600-h/srimad_bhagavad_gita.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330759597359967986" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SfqpnDelLvI/AAAAAAAAAIY/0hcEmc3Do64/s400/srimad_bhagavad_gita.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 317px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Krishna&lt;/b&gt;:&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;  (dazed, awestruck, dumbfounded etc..)&lt;/span&gt;.. arjuna, i never realised all this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Arjuna&lt;/b&gt;: don't worry krishna.. u r perhaps the only person in this world who hasn't heard of gpa..there's still time.. to catch up with everyone and learn the ways of the world..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Krishna&lt;/b&gt;:   Arjuna, but u haven't thrown light on what GPA stands for.. what does it all mean, o arjuna!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arjuna takes another deep breath.." Its a long story.. Years and years ago..when good men still walked on the earth(??).. GPA was called &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Grade Point Aggregate&lt;/span&gt;.. a&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; mere indicator &lt;/span&gt;of students' academic performance (in KU exams)... later on, it gained so much importance that it was used as a "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;General Policy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;for&lt;/span&gt; (any)&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Allotment&lt;/span&gt;"... it was seen as unfair by a vast number of people.. but they were too timid to protest against the policy... later, they suffered, as they saw their "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Genuine Passions Attacked&lt;/span&gt;".. their passion for knowledge.. their true aptitude thwarted.. they were denied the electives they asked for.. the knowledge they craved for...BUT they were too timid to protest..&lt;br /&gt;This remained so for a long time.. till the rules became rigid.. till it was too late to question the authority.. a big "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Goodbye to Protests and Arguments&lt;/span&gt;.."..&lt;br /&gt;gpa has ruled our college lives ever since.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arjuna finished his speech rather dramatically.. Krishna was overcome by nausea..&lt;br /&gt;He cleared his throat..(for it had become choked.. well, y else would anyone clear their throat dammit??).. he mused for a while, and collected himself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus spake &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;G&lt;/span&gt;o&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PA&lt;/span&gt;la krishna:&lt;br /&gt;Remember, my dear Arjuna.. To survive in this college life and in the web of mundanity that the GPA spider (&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Genetically Programmed &lt;/span&gt;to be&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Atrocious&lt;/span&gt;) has spun.. it is not enough to have worldly knowledge alone.. it does not suffice to read the newspaper everyday, build up ur general knowledge, develop ur extra-curricular interests.. it doesn't spur u forward.. all u need to do is score well in Kerala University's "extremely fair" exams.. get a good gpa.. and do the practical thing.. You are known by ur gpa.. as a number.. just as prisoners r known by a number in jail.. U r trapped inside a bubble... gpa is ur only way out..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-83252690207502736?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/83252690207502736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=83252690207502736' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/83252690207502736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/83252690207502736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2009/04/gee-pee-aaa.html' title='GPA: the &apos;G&apos;rand &apos;P&apos;icture of &apos;A&apos;pplied-electronics..'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SfqpnDelLvI/AAAAAAAAAIY/0hcEmc3Do64/s72-c/srimad_bhagavad_gita.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-6260196240385899961</id><published>2009-02-11T21:16:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-07T15:30:42.819+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gobbledygook'/><title type='text'>Ads, weight-loss and RIPe bananas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Primarily, there are two kinds of boards on our city roads&lt;br /&gt;i) advertisement boards&lt;br /&gt;ii) sign boards&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loosely speaking, ad-boards are evil.. they distract u.. and put u off ur guard.. the big ones especially.. the ones perched atop the tall buildings...&lt;br /&gt;but the trouble is, u feel the ads look awesome and gaze and gaze at them.. eyes transfixed... until somebody comes along with a bucket of cold water, splashes it on ur open-mouthed face... and shouts-&lt;br /&gt;'hey, do u know that u r in the middle of the road?? huh?? now get outta my way.. before i slap that face of yours.. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;with a robotic arm&lt;/span&gt; !!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sign boards, on the other hand, are meant to bring u back to the real world (.. in case that somebody didn't get his hands on that bucket he ordered!!).. they kinda give u these last-minute warnings of whats coming ahead.. and do quite a smart job of it actually.. and what do u know? they can be very very informative too!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for instance, once i'd been to kanyakumari.. there was this signboard that read -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Trivandrum- 89 km&lt;br /&gt;Nagercoil- 13 km&lt;br /&gt;Varanasi- 2460 km!!!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.. now &lt;i&gt;thats&lt;/i&gt; what i call information!! signboards are smart.. yet they keep their feet on the ground.. but soon, the big green eyed monster of jealousy would hunt them down.. wonder why?? bcos generally, people don't give a damn to signboards, however smart they are... they just don’t…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on one of those rare, lucky days, my dad had asked me to take the car to the petrol bunk all by myself.. so, having the car all to myself, i felt like a king.. i even felt proud, like a haughty advertisement board...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i saw a lady on her scooter, a few metres ahead of me... she was moving pretty slow.. in fact, she was snailing her way on the road...inch by inch.. i've even seen tortoises move faster (on animal planet's Tryst with Turtles..)... anyway, the road is not the place to imitate a tortoise.. the tortoises certainly wouldn't agree to it... i only hope they don't take it personally!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it turned out that the lady was actually staring at one of the ad-boards.. one of those jewellery ads.. or was it abt designer sarees??.. don't remember.. all i know is that the model who featured in it was kinda okay-looking... but the itchy fingers of impatience started tickling me... and i blared the horn of my car a couple of times... the woman got a rather nasty shock, fell sideways and turned turtle!!... man, that was one hell of a sight... when i started honking, she jolted back to reality and started behaving with her scooter as if it was an infuriated spanish bull out of control!!!.. oh man, that was amazing-videos material!!...and before the locals could start crowding around the scene of accident, i made a deft exit...whew!! close shave..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nasty, them ad-boards!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I regret to say that once even i became a victim of their crime.. ok look ..i agree that ad-boards need to be eye-catching... but they go too far to prove that point... what they really do is eye-catching-capturing-imprisoning-bonding to steel chains!!.. there was this one ad that had my jaw drop... It read something like this..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;"VLCC-&lt;br /&gt;Pay for a weight loss of 10 kgs. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SZg6b_6KdEI/AAAAAAAAAHg/_L6dCfSlKp4/s1600-h/401571623_f727b2551f.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303052813915026498" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SZg6b_6KdEI/AAAAAAAAAHg/_L6dCfSlKp4/s400/401571623_f727b2551f.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 278px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 237px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Lose upto an extra 5 kgs...Absolutely free!!!"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My jaw dropped and hit the ground... (well, almost...) fortunately, i was not driving at the moment i was confronted with that ad... well, what the heck was happening to…er.. orthodox weight-loss??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;(Of course...the pic on the right side has 4 different women... and the ad makers think they're very clever!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of weight loss, there r a couple of things to be added here.. First of all, the kind of ppl who come to health clubs to "lose" the extra-5 are '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;FAT men in branded bermudas'...&lt;/span&gt; they come there to pump out their calories by punishing themselves... they lift loads.. they pull heavy strings...whining and wincing, puffing and panting… and when the instructors r not watching, they snooze off on the benches... sigh!! heavy work does that to u sometimes!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worse, they are put on diets.. everytime the dietician says, "No X..No Y..No Z.." ( where X= rich sweets; Y= fried snacks; Z= chocolates...etc etc), they writhe with pain... they get choked…and tears fill their ever-hungry eyes… on their diet list, comes bananas, oats &amp;amp; cereal, low-starch rice, triple skimmed milk, plain bread...( and other small stuff which only skinny fashion models would dare to eat...with a guilty heart)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;But bananas... ah!&lt;/b&gt; always fleshy and juicy... (unless they're more than 3 days old)…&lt;br /&gt;I rushed thru half my breakfast before college one day..and stuffed the other half - a big, healthy banana - into my college bag ... but alas! little did i know that mom had packed my freshly prepared lunch in that very pocket of the bag… right next to the banana... later at college, i put my bag away in one of the seats... this was when karthik pottered his way into the class, searching for a seat..&lt;b&gt; and sat on my bag&lt;/b&gt;!! ouch!!..anyway... that was one &lt;b&gt;R.I.P.e banana &lt;/b&gt;for u, steamed and sat on!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave u with these interesting/ disturbing images...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SZd2DNpEpeI/AAAAAAAAAHY/zK6zSMaXHtU/s1600-h/whaaa.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302836883825665506" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SZd2DNpEpeI/AAAAAAAAAHY/zK6zSMaXHtU/s400/whaaa.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 259px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 396px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SZd00LzTmGI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/5bf-UuEXAYI/s1600-h/whaaa.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-6260196240385899961?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/6260196240385899961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=6260196240385899961' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/6260196240385899961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/6260196240385899961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2009/02/ads-weight-loss-and-ripe-bananas.html' title='Ads, weight-loss and RIPe bananas'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SZg6b_6KdEI/AAAAAAAAAHg/_L6dCfSlKp4/s72-c/401571623_f727b2551f.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-3124097319178027744</id><published>2009-01-22T00:15:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-07T15:35:57.520+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tribute'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='satire'/><title type='text'>Nineteen-Nineteen to the dozen</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time, Ashok Leyland gifted &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.cet.ac.in"&gt;CET&lt;/a&gt; with a beauty.. a highly fashionable, state-of-the-art, roaring bus, (which will be the subject of this post).. the "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;KRV 1919&lt;/span&gt;"!! Hear one, hear all! This bus runs through the winding lanes of Trivandrum everyday, transporting a hundred ( that's right..a hundred, mind u! choke! suffocate! die!) engineering aspirants to their alma-mater..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are rumours that this bus i'm alluding to has even been given special mention in the "History of the Kingdom of erstwhile Travancore"!!! Initially i was made to believe that the registration number of the bus had something to do with its year of manufacture!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, this bus is like this huge rectangular box, carelessly balanced on six wheels.. When the bus starts, it'll appear as though the wheels and the body have a difference of opinion and threaten to part ways!!.. but i assure u, it gets worse when it gets moving..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that 'Ground Clearance' was given a lot of importance in those days..when u see the 1919 coming from a distance, it reminds u of the latest edition of Fashion-Week Paris.. the tyres are very showy, and if u pay attention, the wobbling from side to side and the mini-skirtish look of the body r enough to give u the memory of the best cat-walk ever!! The seats are rock solid, with metallic frames designed to suit the tastes of an engineering student.. when the bus passes over a little pot-hole, u can feel ur ribs rattle, reminding u that u r still alive..worse, when its time to screech to a halt and the brakes are applied(?), u feel as if forty-three amateur violinists were rehearsing poor Beethoven's Last symphony right beside u!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and that's not all..there is the return trip home, which starts with half a dozen hefty boys pushing the bum of the old beauty whilst the driver tries, cries and practically dies to get the engine kicking into a roar...and what a blessing it is to be chosen as one among those half a dozen of boys!! i envy them..i envy them all!! grrr..&lt;br /&gt;Also, the 1919 has a distinct style of acceleration..its show of power..well, in the process, an unfathomably huge cloud of black smoke drifts out of the exhaust..that for the vehicles behind the bus, it'll look as though the power cut had come 3 hours early..and all calls to mobile phones within the region would be thwarted with an 'out-of-coverage' response!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it's worth a bumpy ride!! I do make it a point not to miss the bus the moment i know its gonna be KRV 1919..the unpredictability, the team spirit, the emotion..priceless!!&lt;br /&gt;Ashok Leyland, we owe u a lifetime full of rib-rattling pleasure!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-3124097319178027744?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/3124097319178027744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=3124097319178027744' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/3124097319178027744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/3124097319178027744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2009/01/nineteen-nineteen.html' title='Nineteen-Nineteen to the dozen'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-3156177708307002684</id><published>2009-01-10T00:45:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:14:57.641+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my book of complaints'/><title type='text'>Need some earwax..got any??</title><content type='html'>On some blessed days, its always a pleasure to arise from blissful sleep by a beautiful song or a bird chirping on a tree outside the window.. Luckily for Satan, not all days go down into our diaries as blessed days.. There are times when Satan sharpens his teeth, files his nails, services his horns and gets all set to poke, prick and jerk civilization out of its pants..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For instance, my life here in this peaceful neighbourhood is heaven.. i mean, i've got to admit that i've got it all.. pink flowers outside the window, flowers in a vase on the window-sill, flowers on my desktop and the mousepad..why..there r flowers even on the bathroom tiles for crying out loud!! so in one quick glance, it certainly looks like a full-bloomed life.. if yesterday had ten buds, today has ten blossoms.. and the vase gets its re-fill of water everyday.. so u get the idea?..its not just limited to the flowers though..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so here i am..leading a happy life..wondering where a bunch of flowers will pop up next.. this was when i came across a guy called Satan.. amazing fellow really.. to tell u the truth, he's this guy whom we can all thank for a couple of things..&lt;br /&gt;it seems the whole idea of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;festival-loudspeakers&lt;/span&gt; was his.. can u believe it? of course, one can expect it to be, naturally, for the sheer brainpower that lives inside his head..&lt;br /&gt;( hey..by the way, were those things '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;horns&lt;/span&gt;'??.. no..can't be.. i must seriously stop imagining things! too much of flowers i guess..)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, horns or no horns, i've got exams these days.. and whoa!! the temple festival is here!! so whaddya know.. how much more lucky can i get than living in a house near a temple where the festival is on.. could God get any happier than this and bless people even more?? looks like all the pieces of my life r falling right into place..yippee!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, i saw it.. they came and put up a big black box right outside my window facing the street.. it was a loudspeaker, one of satan's own, no doubt.. the electronics engineer that i am(..!??!..), i immediately took to satan and admired him endlessly..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i remember how it used to be earlier.. if it was a festival at the temple, there would be music concerts by professional singers, dance performances and the day would start with a famous record by a famous singer.. it all fitted.. it built up an air of soothing peace, calm and devotion.. and now, here cometh satan's invention.. ready to make a difference..&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SXMxBIwhHaI/AAAAAAAAAG8/WssLStvbvx0/s1600-h/Noisexxx.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292627882691075490" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SXMxBIwhHaI/AAAAAAAAAG8/WssLStvbvx0/s400/Noisexxx.gif" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 205px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 235px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was barely 4 a.m in the morning.. i was grossly disturbed from my flowery dream and jumped out of bed in shock.. i heard a man yelling for redemption from a life-threatening peril!! In other words, i thought his ass was on fire and half-roasted already.. his voice was horror struck..and he seemed to be calling out for help to atleast a hundred gods..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i ran around frantically, trying to locate the scream.. it turned out to be the black box eventually..and this was supposedly music, the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;food for love&lt;/span&gt;..so.. Satan was off his mark then.. attaboy!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..and along with the big bad black box came new songs.. new artistes.. new kinds of music.. pop, jazz, punk rock, heavy metal.. soon hybrid genres would gate-crash in..Bhakti-Rock, anyone? How abt Raaga-Rap??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems Satan kinda opened up opportunities to the unemployed to eke out a living, rather than keeping them at home, swatting flies, mosquitoes (and other winged insects that do not have any particular attraction to flowers!!).. So now we have a whole new battalion of singing voices, all praising a God in different voices, different tones, different pitches, but uniformly lacking in grace.. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;diversity in unity&lt;/span&gt;..hehe.. that when u hear it through a loudspeaker, u would actually forget what a flower looked like and how sweet the smell was when it wafted into your soul.. instead u would have this picture of an unholy mixture of false artistes, straining their throats for money in a glory-hunting demeanour.. Obviously, whoever vilified empty-vessels hadn't even heard (of) a loudspeaker!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time, people said that God was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;all-forgiving&lt;/span&gt;..well, looks like they'd rather believe that he's&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; all for  giving&lt;/span&gt;...the way they place demands before God is disgruntling to say the least!!&lt;br /&gt;With satan's loudspeakers and a new class of contract-employed nuisances of musicians, they're all calling out to a God loud enough for him to hear them in a parallel universe.. one day, he's gonna have to come down &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Himself&lt;/span&gt; and ask these fellows to tone it down so that he can do his work of running the universe in concentration..&lt;br /&gt;so that the boy living in a house behind a black box can get back to his work as well.. so that flowers once again bloom..at the right time and right season..and the good ol' bathroom tiles sparkle with floral charm..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-3156177708307002684?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/3156177708307002684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=3156177708307002684' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/3156177708307002684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/3156177708307002684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-never-loved-speakers.html' title='Need some earwax..got any??'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SXMxBIwhHaI/AAAAAAAAAG8/WssLStvbvx0/s72-c/Noisexxx.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-5861618061101520371</id><published>2008-10-15T01:15:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:15:07.747+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reflections'/><title type='text'>The gear..of choice..</title><content type='html'>FOUR..thats the number of ways u can drive ur car on a highway..&lt;br /&gt;the highway is where u r right now..moving on with life..u know not of the destination, of the road ahead.. of bridges, tunnels and dead-ends..&lt;br /&gt;the wheel is in ur hands.. u control it.. and as u would've already guessed,.. ur dreams, aspirations, abilities and persona r what drive the car..&lt;br /&gt;now, add to the picture a lot of gorgeous, breathtaking scenery sprawled out there in front of u..  infinite with beauty, painted with the rhapsody of colour by nature's finest hands..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) u could start ur car, take it straight ahead, without giving a damn to the scenery.. all u really want is to reach the destination(which u don't knw abt..).. u see other cars in front of u and follow them.. riding rough on the roads.. the car gets cranky but u don't care.. yes, u've reached somewhere..&lt;br /&gt;..engine-kill.. slam door shut.. no looking back.. blank..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) u start ur car, move on a bit slowly, watching the countryside treat offered to ur eyes, feeling the wind in ur hair.. oh but, u need to reach somewhere.. so u step on the gas a bit.. later, u feel like stretching out and the car has to cool off .. finally, u reach somewhere..but a little late..so what?&lt;br /&gt;..u glance at the scenery.. thank the car.. look back at the way u've come.. feel happy&lt;br /&gt;..look ahead..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) u start the car, b'cos everyone else has done so..and u realise that u have to make it to someplace special..ur dreams and aspirations r strong..but nobody seems to believe they'll work out well for u.. u r totally in love with the scenery..mesmerised, u take ur car off the highway, and ride right into the wilderness.. later on, u feel uncertain.. was the way wrong? is the car still ok? but oh no! u need to reach somewhere and catch up with the others..&lt;br /&gt;u..feel lost..feel passion for ur real dreams..feel frustrated..feel lonely..and lost..&lt;br /&gt;the rest itself is uncertain..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) u start the car, u don't give a damn to the highway.. u don't give much to the car either.. but u believe the scenery is all yours.. Nature has offered u a tiny line of a road on one hand, and a world full of possibilities and unexplored destinations on the other.. u sprint right into the adventure.. ur car has lots of horsepower and keeps u going on and on and on.. u find ur haven atlast..&lt;br /&gt;..bliss.. satisfaction.. rich-life experiences.. forever grateful for the journey..&lt;br /&gt;..the car has even more horses to pull it now..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-5861618061101520371?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/5861618061101520371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=5861618061101520371' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/5861618061101520371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/5861618061101520371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2008/10/gearof-choice.html' title='The gear..of choice..'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-8349752222286228851</id><published>2008-07-06T16:59:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-07T15:30:48.108+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gobbledygook'/><title type='text'>An abortive attempt to save this blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Accredited with a 3-star rating by the National Board of Non-sense.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;(&lt;b&gt;Warning&lt;/b&gt;: What u see below is nothing but pure, unadulterated &lt;b&gt;crap&lt;/b&gt;. Absolute &lt;b&gt;drivel&lt;/b&gt;. Crude, unrefined &lt;b&gt;nonsense&lt;/b&gt;. This was something i wrote way back in 2008, and it's been sitting in my Drafts list ever since. This most immature article may feature in this blog only temporarily, and is subject to removal without prior notice. Oh, and please see the list of Fav. Posts if u came looking for something serious! &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Er..yeah, that's about it!)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Farm pigs, especially some famous ones, have been believed to be highly fussy about hunger. As in the words of the great Lord Styworth Piggington (1567 A.D-present),&lt;i&gt; "Man generally disapproves of pigs. Pigs have no self-respect; they eat just about everything"&lt;/i&gt;..Yes, you may nod in agreement, while realising in the process, that man has "necks" that help him to nod; something evolution has been cruel to pigs about!! Ha!! Another point to score!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But The International Society of Farm Animal Lovers (popularly known as ISFAL).. recently conducted a survey- 'On the Dining Preferences of pigs, irrespective of their class, creed, race, religion etc.' The results were revolting..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of revolting, lets all remember that the mighty Lord Styworth, who once redeemed these lovely creatures unfit and unwanted on God's Green Earth, is still alive and kicking.. The Results of the Survey, page 3 would alone be capable of putting his long line of pig-hating ancestors to eternal shame.. ISFAL revealed that on an average, pigs &lt;i&gt;refused&lt;/i&gt; 172 samples of food out of the 200 they were offered..hmm.. hungry? maybe.. but choosy? yes, very much..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though he himself looks more like a pig nowadays than human, Lord S.Piggington took in the results pretty hard.. ISFAL caught up with "The Pig Witch", who was banished from his land about 400 years ago, due to reasons that have been cleverly manipulated in "The Pig Crime Records, 1590-1610."..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, she attributes his pig-like features to an ancient curse that distraught leaders, of renowned sties all over the world, cast upon the unfortunate man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stylus Magnopiggus, an ISFAL activist was almost sentimental: "Hungry, or 'greedy', as these pigs are usually referred to, maybe true..but self-esteem and Respect-for-the-Sty are more important issues in their lives..This man (Lord S.P) ought to be thrown &lt;i&gt;to the hounds&lt;/i&gt;, for he had rendered the pigs' existence void meaning..by shaking their very beliefs and hurting their pride".. Magnopiggus, was reported to have hysterically shouted, "t&lt;i&gt;o the hounds!! to the hounds!!&lt;/i&gt;" as he burst into ambiguous tears of anger and triumph..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, let's just hope that 'La Hound Hormona' (the largest non-governmental Hound Lovers Club) does not come up with an agitation for Hound-Rights, what with the way the ISFAL activist expressed himself.. the situation may get out of hand, and Lord S.Piggington may lose the limelight.. But the time has come now for pigs to live in a world of respect..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An electronic device, called Pig-o-lator has been designed by ambitious students of Farmela University. The device seeks to establish direct communication between man and pig. Thanks to the device, the developments were reported to the Pig Chief (no, not panniyan raveendran), and He said that Sties were overjoyed. He also added that he felt hungry..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lord Piggington, filled with remorse for his deadly sins, volunteered to grant pigs their freedom. He was last spotted outside a huge pig sty, trying to open the gate and let the pigs out. A stampede ensued when the gates were thrown open and the Lord was trampled to an inhuman, even unpiggish death.. and the hounds then arrived, punctual for their meal as usual..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ISFAL has hereby concluded that&lt;br /&gt;a)irrespective of class, creed, race and religion of pigs..&lt;br /&gt;b)irespective of size, sty and food-sample-rejection-ratio [FSRR] of pigs..&lt;br /&gt;c)irrespective of whether pigs have been enslaved or not ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;i&gt;Hounds are never late for a meal&lt;/i&gt;"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;References: (ok, bibliography, if u insist..)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;a) The sample rejection ratio of 172/200 was actually talked abt on Animal Planet, which i've reproduced here (with permission, yeah!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;b) Pig Witch actually exists. If u read Terry Pratchett, that is...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;c) Haven't u had enough?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-8349752222286228851?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/8349752222286228851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=8349752222286228851' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/8349752222286228851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/8349752222286228851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2008/07/abortive-attempt-to-save-this-blog.html' title='An abortive attempt to save this blog'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-6096993861066673988</id><published>2008-06-06T23:02:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-07-15T21:10:34.859+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='traveler&apos;s notes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tribute'/><title type='text'>Agastyarkoodam: Rendezvous with nature</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SPohFTCuVXI/AAAAAAAAAGo/gXV__muK_5U/s1600-h/new.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258551889803236722" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SPohFTCuVXI/AAAAAAAAAGo/gXV__muK_5U/s400/new.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are a trekking enthusiast, or a nature-lover, I have two words for you - 'Agastya Hills'. Here, you get to walk through thick jungles and open hilltop grasslands, wade through streams and rivulets, and climb near-vertical rock mountains as u make your way to the summit, through a series of unpredictable weather changes and complete isolation from the outside world. That's right. 60 kms of trekking and three days of breathing pure air, bathing in the purest water and living in harmony with Mother nature. No points for guessing that your mobile phone would be useless in this paradise 90 percent of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Agastyarkoodam is the summit. It stands at 6200 feet above sea level, the second tallest peak in the south of India, roughly located at the Kerala - Tamil nadu border. At the peak is a sanctum of Sage Agastya, who is believed to have powers such as controlling the forces of nature, and is credited with the birth of the tamil language from which other south indian languages have sprung. The entry point to the trekking trip/ pilgrimage is at the Bonakkad Forest Office. Bonakkad lies about 10 kms off the Trivandrum- Ponmudi road, and has tea estates sprawled across its slopes. At the office, what one carries into the forest is scrutinized, as a step towards ensuring safety to the forest and its family of flora and fauna. Agastya Hills are renowned for the richness of medicinal plants that they are home to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus one embarks on a 3-day journey of wonderful experiences that one shall treasure in his heart forever. As for my case, I can't wait for the onset of the next trekking season. The mere thought of the place builds up the zest of adventure, your soul would want to infuse with the beauty of the place..and its then that you start your tiny little ponderings on life.. well, sages are supposed to be full-time ponderers. so, putting 2 and 2 together, we can conclude that Sage agastya certainly knew what he was doing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first stretch of the trek is through sparse forest, which gets thicker upward. Pleasant walk, a wide forest path, with the mid-morning sun peeping occasionally through high branches, and birds chirping and tweeting in tune to the melody that u gradually start hearing. This stretch leads you on to a set of 3 or 4 waterfalls, one of which is the Karamana river in its beginning stages. As you move from one waterfall to the next one higher up, the chill sets in more pronouncedly and the trees, creepers and vines close in on the path. If the earth is wet, you can expect a lot of thirsty leeches up your leg. ( one of these streams is actually called Attayar!) Every waterfall is a resting point. The sight of the cascade, the sound of the gurgle and the feel of the fresh rapid water is as refreshing as nature meant it to be. From certain points, the view of the peppara dam and reservoir comes in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the final waterfall, there's a rapid climb towards open mountain tops. Only tall grass grows here. Co-incidentally, when one reaches this stage, the Sun would be up in the heavens, and it would be scorching heat everywhere, with very little trees to rest under. This is an extreme climate shift. But yes, this is a forest and that's how it will be. This open stretch goes on for about 4 kms, but the view from here is absolutely magnificent. On a clear day, one can see town settlements near the horizon and majestic rock faces further up. It was here that we heard the trumpet of an angry elephant and ran for our dear lives without even turning back to see where the pachyderm was. By the end of this stretch, you would be gasping for breath and water. Sometimes you may wish you had never even undertaken the journey. Even now, only a third and the easiest leg has been completed. Really discourages you sometimes. But when u have a group of 8 people trudging along uphill, u simply have to keep up with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden and without warning, the geography changes again. It would feel like entering the rainforest after a walk in the sahara. The next phase is called Seven-fold-mountain, or Ezhu Madakku Mala. This is one hell of a jungle. There is no proper path. You need to choose the most stable, least slippery and least leech-inhabited piece of rock every step u take. The slope is very steep, the roots of gigantic trees block your way and in some places, fallen trees themselves obstruct you. This is a kingdom of crickets and rare birds. The sky is mostly not visible, there's a green canopy throughout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around early evening, you reach the base camp. The first day's journey ends here with around 20 kms on your tripmeter. The base camp has been set up by the forest dept. and is managed by an adivasi settlement nearby. There's one dormitory for accommodation at night, a make-shift kitchen and a stream nearby. It is here, at the base camp that you can have your first full 'darshan' of the Agastyamala. Its the most elegant, aristocratic-looking mountain I've ever seen. Its magnetism commands you to bow to the supreme power of nature. The verticality of the single piece of gigantic rock gives even experienced trekkers a shudder down the spine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nights are freezing cold. Without electricity, you are just stuck with candles, using them more for warmth rather than for light. We sleep on a plain mattress on a cold cemented floor. When the wind blows in every time, you see images of antartica and penguins in your dreams..and maybe of polar bears chasing you for a meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning is the final part of the upward journey. After yet another phase of thick forest ,we reached a point where we had glimpses of a vast wilderness of rock whenever the passing mist cleared for a few seconds at a time! It was the most wild,exotic landscape ,gleaming with the myriad water streams running down its face and seemingly disappearing into nowhere! For a moment I felt lost in no-man's land! I was conscious of a sudden desire to spread my wings and fly over the valley, glide along the breeze and break into song! The hillside was rich with wild flowers that danced in the wind and dew drops that glimmered like pearls in the morning light, as if they weren't enough to add to the whole enchantment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rains in a forest always mean disaster, and for us, it began to look like we were going to taste some of it. The morning was hazy and misty, attempting to cripple our hopes of going further. From the base camp onwards, the altitude increases at a very fast rate. Visibility was very poor, it was not more than 5 feet. It looked just like a spooky horror movie,especially when one knows that tigers and bears are regularly sighted in these parts of the forest. People who started before we did for the peak started coming back, saddened to hopelessness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is foolish to endeavour to challenge nature if it doesn't wish you to. There is a dangerous point on the route. A stream flows fast over a vast flat rock, and suddenly it falls into a deep vertical ravine, just like u see in many movies. To go further, one has to cross the stream. If he slips while crossing, he's left to nature's final cruel treatment. We waited for a long time, praying for the mist to clear so that the stream could be crossed safely. Our prayers were answered, the mist slowly drifted out and we proceeded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while the path stops. It would appear to be a dead end, but there would be a tiny stream flowing down. The only way up is to walk right into the stream, and wade up its course, as if you were searching for the source of the stream. This is the best part of the whole trek. Walking literally up'stream', again is a tricky bit. You have to watch out for faulty rocks and mossy slips. The trees around you get stunted as you climb higher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last leg is the toughest. Its impossible to proceed wearing trekking shoes. It has to be barefoot the rest of the way up. The terrain from now on is pure rock, with little shrubs nearby. The verticality of the rock-slopes is one good reason to summon up all the alertness one can gather. The second reason is the mist, and the little droplets of water that get sprayed over you all the time. The third reason is what makes this a real adventure- The final rock-slope is very narrow, with two vertical walls on either side. If one goes near the edge, one would be gazing down at 1000+ feet of gravity travel. The rock has to be climbed intelligently, with tact, holding onto the right cracks and grooves. Because of the steepness, one has to climb on all fours, imitating a lizard on a wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The satisfaction on reaching the peak is immense. Here the wind is so strong that it is unsafe to remain standing. The most interesting fact about the whole place is that there is a mystery at the sanctum of Sage Agastya, and we saw it. All the way down from the peak, it was mist and even rain, with powerful wind. But at the sanctum alone, there was sunlight, clear visibility, and not even a hint of the wind that was blowing with great force ten yards away. The sanctum, is nothing but an open space, a continuation, and why nature is so peaceful within that small region alone is indeed a mystery.Then we started the return journey. By this time, the mist had completely cleared and we could even see distant hills on the Tamil Nadu side. This is how weather keeps changing, and to live every moment of it is pure bliss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The season is only 45 days in a year. During off-season, conditions are said to be inhumane. But every time one treks on the Agastya hills, its a whole new experience altogether. The excitement never wanes because of the myriad possibilities and uncertainties that nature offers. Its a suspense-packed adventure zone, a paradise-next-door for Trivandrum...and its beckoning us again!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-6096993861066673988?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/6096993861066673988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=6096993861066673988' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/6096993861066673988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/6096993861066673988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2008/06/rendezvous-with-nature.html' title='Agastyarkoodam: Rendezvous with nature'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/SPohFTCuVXI/AAAAAAAAAGo/gXV__muK_5U/s72-c/new.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-3220569916935763632</id><published>2008-03-10T23:53:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:16:06.442+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the lighter vein'/><title type='text'>Kitchen safari</title><content type='html'>Situation. Its midnight. And u r hungry. u desperately need to get into the kitchen to stuff some biscuits down ur gut. So, all u have to do is simply go into the kitchen and stuff some biscuits down ur gut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to my house. Here, i live in harmony with nature. Therefore, its not directly possible for me to go into the kitchen to stuff some biscuits down my gut. Yup, if i do that, i'm calling for trouble and have missed out certain crucial steps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its quite an old house. It's too old that it's tired and exhausted because of counting how old it's getting every year. The sight of Jerry nibbling at a piece of cheese on Cartoon Network can make u relaxed, but it's not gonna be the same kind of entertainment u r gonna get in the kitchen of an old house. U'll jump up in shock, grab ur pyjamas and flee frm the spot, stamping over several cockroaches and lizards on the way... so much mortality just for a couple of biscuits.. why doesn't the media take up this issue seriously?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching lions, komodo dragons and killer sharks on national geographic is such a pleasure. Even in real life, safaris r thought to be adventurous and exciting. But what the hell is a squeaky little mouse gonna do to u? well, wild encounters that r made by surprise sure do perplex and unsettle the human mind. forget the biscuits...when u try to sleep u have nightmares about mice, rats and civet cats on the prowl.. i'm not kidding.. they run over the roof like it's a vintage theme park..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other species that succumb to old mansionly residences include certain spiders, wasps and bandicoots.. populations are chiefly confined to outhouses.. official visits r made to the kitchen when nocturnal conditions prevail.. family trips r common especially during the time of purchase of groceries.. hey, everyone needs their festival alright!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the simple solution to avoid disastrous consequences is to turn on the kitchen light from outside, bang on the door a few times, and then storm in, singing 'crawling in my skin..' Now u can have the biscuit treat.. and whats new! we have festival offers.. get some rat poison, mix it with 3-week old unconsumed laddoos and lay down the banquet for the night visitors.. the mortein magic takes their lives only when they're outdoors..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rodents r not seen as a part of mother nature's privileged elite..( sob! sob!)..but the flipside of the pessimism is that they increase our mental alertness.. certain unwritten rules like "tap hard with ur feet when u walk at night", "U r the man before the mouse, don't swap roles" and "Rodents love mortein-laddoo delicacies" certainly smoothen life easier.. and u can digest those biscuits better..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glossary:&lt;br /&gt;bandicoot: perichaazhi;&lt;br /&gt;civet cat: marapetti;&lt;br /&gt;wasp: kadannal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;none of the others taste good except the civet cat! so, who's gonna be my first customer, zam zam or kalavara? :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-3220569916935763632?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/3220569916935763632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=3220569916935763632' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/3220569916935763632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/3220569916935763632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2008/03/kitchen-safari.html' title='Kitchen safari'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-7860300582177102341</id><published>2007-11-25T21:31:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:16:18.170+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the lighter vein'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's a pity that non-vegetarians don't get to taste the vast variety of vegetarian food. They only get a whiff of the surface. Plus, the varieties and possibilities arising from vegetarian food outnumber those from non-vegetarian food.&lt;br /&gt;This is just an example of a handful of pickle varieties in our kitchen... ( :P)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Lime pickle (with and without erivu)&lt;br /&gt;2. Lime and pepper&lt;br /&gt;3. Dried lime&lt;br /&gt;4. Naarthangai dried&lt;br /&gt;5. Naarthangai salted ( with gravy)&lt;br /&gt;6. Erivu naarthangai&lt;br /&gt;7. Kaduku maanga&lt;br /&gt;8. Vadu maanga&lt;br /&gt;9. maanga thokku&lt;br /&gt;10. aavakkai (with and without garlic)&lt;br /&gt;11. keethu maanga&lt;br /&gt;12. maanga curry&lt;br /&gt;13. uppilitta maanga&lt;br /&gt;14. neellika uppilittathu&lt;br /&gt;15. nellikka thokku&lt;br /&gt;16. erivu nellikka&lt;br /&gt;17. inji curry&lt;br /&gt;18. puli inji&lt;br /&gt;19. inji thokku&lt;br /&gt;20. molagu curry&lt;br /&gt;21. inji molagu&lt;br /&gt;22. chillies in vinegar&lt;br /&gt;23. thairu molagu&lt;br /&gt;24. molagu vathakkal&lt;br /&gt;25. thaamara thandu&lt;br /&gt;26. stuffed chillies&lt;br /&gt;27. carrot pickle&lt;br /&gt;28. erivu maahali&lt;br /&gt;29. plain maahali&lt;br /&gt;30. veippilakkatti&lt;br /&gt;31. gongura thokku&lt;br /&gt;32. tomato thokku pickle&lt;br /&gt;33. small onion pickle&lt;br /&gt;34. garlic pickle&lt;br /&gt;35. mixed vegetable pickle&lt;br /&gt;36. manathangaalikka vettal&lt;br /&gt;37. chundakka vettal&lt;br /&gt;38. paavakka pickle&lt;br /&gt;39. karuvepila thokku&lt;br /&gt;40. kothamalli thohayal&lt;br /&gt;41. jaathikka pickle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;everything goes equally well with some curd rice...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1074927742352006744-7860300582177102341?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/7860300582177102341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=7860300582177102341' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/7860300582177102341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/7860300582177102341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2007/11/its-pity-that-non-vegetarians-dont-get.html' title=''/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1074927742352006744.post-8926717442607563746</id><published>2007-06-17T10:39:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:17:02.249+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='satire'/><title type='text'>Long Live Kerala University!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;theres actually nothing wrong in blessing the university with long life...but it seems the university has found its own (probably better) solution to live loooooooooooooong - er...postpone the exams whenever there's a little more space in the newspapers...and thats some extra life for the university (and its good deed towards the press media)...KU's formula for outliving other univs in the country!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;every yr the exams(?) r more than just an adventure... hey, if u r on the look out for a partner to chill out during summer.... ur search is over; KU is 'there' to turn u 'cool'(in engg terms, 'loss of heat') ...and give u some kinda banging attitude...who cares abt the exams anyway??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;by the way the latest rumour was that the hall ticket printing machine's cartridge's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ink supply got exhausted and they indefinitely postponed the exams....and who's the wonderful source of this wonderful piece of information??? oh yeah, our common friend's neighbour's cousin's sister's mother-in-law used to work in an office adjacent to the university's meeting room, yeah the white building in the next compound (aliens from faraway induced nostalgia in her and she visited her old workplace)...and since she got bored in the afternoon she decided to peep out through the window and strained her neck to see whats happening...and my-oh-my!!! if it had been not for her eavesdropping on the univs timekilling plots, we their army would have been notified of their decisions only after the end of the world!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;the longest an exam has ever been postponed by the university is only 6 months...thats only a whole semester...looking at it in a different way, KU makes us engineers in a time that is much less than 4 yrs...wow, so we r infact those lucky intelligent few!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;if ur mobile connection provides u with free messaging, y dont u pick it up right now and chart out a timetable for the exams...but be careful!! its a highly competitive field...so u really need to rack ur brains... ah but engineering a timetable will be nothing compared to what KU prepares u to achieve in later life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its a clash of two groups within the university!! when students r given more time to scratch unscarred places on their heads, a "crisis management committee" is setup to "look into the matter"...then they sanction a loan from the govt to construct a "planning hall/conference room/brainstorming court" where they "sit and argue" on the first day, "sit and solve"  the next day, "sit and plan" later and when it doesnt work out, they will "conduct an enquiry" for which a squad has to be teamed up ("sit and discuss/choose")...hey, but what abt our exams, mr.officer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;while theres still time to enjoy, watch movies and walk in the rain, one must be grateful to this very punctual university that adheres strictly to fulfilling its targets in time!!! so, it will be quite a revolution when students start to feel the heat of nearing(??) exams(?!#$)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;do&lt;a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6291129847419280580&amp;amp;postID=3097300374799707392" style="color: #9999ff;"&gt; add ur comments&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: #9999ff;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;n ideas...a li'l sarcasm is not gonna be too evil u know...:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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/1074927742352006744-8926717442607563746?l=gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/feeds/8926717442607563746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1074927742352006744&amp;postID=8926717442607563746' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/8926717442607563746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1074927742352006744/posts/default/8926717442607563746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://gamut-of-emotions.blogspot.com/2007/06/long-live-kerala-university.html' title='Long Live Kerala University!!!'/><author><name>Srivardhan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05389920346822214717</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HEOH2HyQKLg/TDrDczWK1dI/AAAAAAAAAL0/4vDCWr-reFA/S220/IMG_6702copy.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
