I'd always wondered what my college life would be like. What would I be doing? What would happen that would supposedly make it the 'best days of my life'? It took me about five months, but I finally found it last night.
Just as I bought Boardwalk.
Five friends and I sat on the floor, with a Monopoly board in the middle. For the uninitiated....check Wikipedia.
Showing posts with label Incidents and Events. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Incidents and Events. Show all posts
12 December 2010
05 November 2010
The Dog In Room No. 5
It began just after the evening prayer. Returning from the mosque within the hostel, I saw a group of men standing near on of the stairs, talking animatedly.
What's the matter, my cousin asked.
There was a dog. In Room No.5.
What's the matter, my cousin asked.
There was a dog. In Room No.5.
25 May 2009
Thank You, Sorry And Welcome Back
I''ve tried to get a good introduction to this post, but nothing's worked. So I'll get straight to the point.
More than a month ago, on 15th April 2009, I decided to write the last post of Laptop Diary. My intention was to close down the blog once and for all. Why?
That's the tough part. There were many reasons, the biggest of which was my studies. I wasnt excatly coming out with flying colors, and I thought perhaps shutting down the blog would help. Wait, that sounds lame.
Well, the second reason was that I couldnt actually think of anything good to put on the blog. The more careful readers would've noticed how the past few posts of mine didnt quite have the punch. Heck, it basically didnt have anything. And any blogger will tell you how demoralising it is to know that you're on a continuous streak of poor posts. I knew some readers liked the blog for the earlier posts. So why ruin their interest eventually. Might as well quit while I'm still appreciated.
So, with all these thoughts in my mind, I wrote "One Last Story". And almost immediately after I published the post, I regretted my decision.
The comments I receieved, to put it mildly, were heart warming. I had expected people to comment. But not in such a manner. And strangely, I felt like a spoilt child. The kind that throws a huge tantrum about nothing at all. That's when I realised my huge mistake.
As my friend Shahbaz said, I've developed a bond with Laptop Diary. And more importantly with you guys. Without dipping into sentimentality, let me say, I decided to restart blogging. But I needed time for two reasons. One, I still had to pull up my grades. And second, I needed some new material to write about.
Also, the unflattering comment by Anonymous, who accused me of carriying out a publicity stunt, pissed me off. I hope that person is reading this : I really didnt mean any publicity, and I apologize if it seemed that way.
So what now? Well, I've decided to say Thank You. Thank You - to all my friends who tried telling me not to stop blogging. To my fellow bloggers, who tried their best to encourage me to go on. I started this blog in August last year for myself. I'm restarting it for you guys. Only a really thankless jerk would stop blogging after reading your comments. A huge thank you.
I also want to say Sorry. Sorry if I seemed a little too stupid, a little too foolish, a little too hasty. I didnt mean it in any way.
And finally, Welcome Back. Laptop Diary will be regularly updated, and hopefully, you guys will keep up with your comments.
It's time to make up for 40 days of not blogging.
More than a month ago, on 15th April 2009, I decided to write the last post of Laptop Diary. My intention was to close down the blog once and for all. Why?
That's the tough part. There were many reasons, the biggest of which was my studies. I wasnt excatly coming out with flying colors, and I thought perhaps shutting down the blog would help. Wait, that sounds lame.
Well, the second reason was that I couldnt actually think of anything good to put on the blog. The more careful readers would've noticed how the past few posts of mine didnt quite have the punch. Heck, it basically didnt have anything. And any blogger will tell you how demoralising it is to know that you're on a continuous streak of poor posts. I knew some readers liked the blog for the earlier posts. So why ruin their interest eventually. Might as well quit while I'm still appreciated.
So, with all these thoughts in my mind, I wrote "One Last Story". And almost immediately after I published the post, I regretted my decision.
The comments I receieved, to put it mildly, were heart warming. I had expected people to comment. But not in such a manner. And strangely, I felt like a spoilt child. The kind that throws a huge tantrum about nothing at all. That's when I realised my huge mistake.
As my friend Shahbaz said, I've developed a bond with Laptop Diary. And more importantly with you guys. Without dipping into sentimentality, let me say, I decided to restart blogging. But I needed time for two reasons. One, I still had to pull up my grades. And second, I needed some new material to write about.
Also, the unflattering comment by Anonymous, who accused me of carriying out a publicity stunt, pissed me off. I hope that person is reading this : I really didnt mean any publicity, and I apologize if it seemed that way.
So what now? Well, I've decided to say Thank You. Thank You - to all my friends who tried telling me not to stop blogging. To my fellow bloggers, who tried their best to encourage me to go on. I started this blog in August last year for myself. I'm restarting it for you guys. Only a really thankless jerk would stop blogging after reading your comments. A huge thank you.
I also want to say Sorry. Sorry if I seemed a little too stupid, a little too foolish, a little too hasty. I didnt mean it in any way.
And finally, Welcome Back. Laptop Diary will be regularly updated, and hopefully, you guys will keep up with your comments.
It's time to make up for 40 days of not blogging.
09 April 2009
Why I Began Eating My Tiffin...
I know it's an unusual title. But then again, this is an unusual post.
I have a really annoying habit. Just like most of you. Many a times I forget to eat my tiffin. The reasons are always good enough. I had Prefect Duty during the breaks. I was completing my homework. Sometimes, it's actually true. The canteen just has better food to choose from.
The only one who's annoyed by all this, is my Mother of course. After all, who would take it kindly, if the food they prepared at the break of dawn, is returned half a day later, uneaten and wasted.
It's not as though I didn't care about it. I guess I just didn't care enough to actually do something about it. Until one evening, my mother snapped.
I was doing my homework, when my mother asked me whether I'd eaten what she prepared for me. "Uh, no."
Things had gotten that simplified. Just "Uh, No."
"You dont care about all the food you waste, do you?" My mother asked. It was always the same script. "One day, you'll have to face God, and be accountable for all your actions. Do you know how many people are dying because of hunger...?" I listened, like I always did.
Just then, my father tossed a newspaper page onto the table. "Take a look," he said curtly. There was an article, about a boy in India, who died after falling from a tree.
Sad, I thought.
Then I read the whole article, which was unfortunately in Malayalam, and hence took a little time. It seems the boy had climbed the tree, to get a fruit from the top. My mother shook her head when she heard me reading in my broken Malayalam.
"No! The boy was starving for food. Desperately, he decided to climb the tree and get some fruits to eat. A passerby who saw this impoverished boy, took pity on him. He decided to feed the boy, and asked the chap to get down from the tree. The boy, so overjoyed at the fact of getting one square meal, hastily tried to climb down the tree. That's when it happened. He lost his grip, and fell. His limp, malnourished body couldnt take the fall. He died.
I heard the story, and looked at my mother's face. I thought it was a joke. It had to be. After all, it sounded incredulous.
"Do you know what the mother was crying about?" She asked. "She was crying at her son's funeral, wailing about how the poor boy had to die without ever eating one proper square meal. 'Oh, why did he have such a horrible fate!' the mother wailed."
There was an uncomfortable silence after my mother finished narrating the story. I finished my homework. We had our dinner. I checked my MSN, Facebook and blog. We all went to sleep.
The next day, as my friends called me to hurry up on the way to the canteen, I stopped to take out my Tiffin box. "What happened, didnt bring any money today? I'll pay for you," one of them said.
I shook my head silently but did not reply. After all, he did not know why I had began eating my Tiffin....
If you are a new reader to this blog, check the Top Rated Posts, as well as the Best Posts of 2008.
If you haven't visited here for quite some time, take a look at the latest posts...
Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
I have a really annoying habit. Just like most of you. Many a times I forget to eat my tiffin. The reasons are always good enough. I had Prefect Duty during the breaks. I was completing my homework. Sometimes, it's actually true. The canteen just has better food to choose from.
The only one who's annoyed by all this, is my Mother of course. After all, who would take it kindly, if the food they prepared at the break of dawn, is returned half a day later, uneaten and wasted.
It's not as though I didn't care about it. I guess I just didn't care enough to actually do something about it. Until one evening, my mother snapped.
I was doing my homework, when my mother asked me whether I'd eaten what she prepared for me. "Uh, no."
Things had gotten that simplified. Just "Uh, No."
"You dont care about all the food you waste, do you?" My mother asked. It was always the same script. "One day, you'll have to face God, and be accountable for all your actions. Do you know how many people are dying because of hunger...?" I listened, like I always did.
Just then, my father tossed a newspaper page onto the table. "Take a look," he said curtly. There was an article, about a boy in India, who died after falling from a tree.
Sad, I thought.
Then I read the whole article, which was unfortunately in Malayalam, and hence took a little time. It seems the boy had climbed the tree, to get a fruit from the top. My mother shook her head when she heard me reading in my broken Malayalam.
"No! The boy was starving for food. Desperately, he decided to climb the tree and get some fruits to eat. A passerby who saw this impoverished boy, took pity on him. He decided to feed the boy, and asked the chap to get down from the tree. The boy, so overjoyed at the fact of getting one square meal, hastily tried to climb down the tree. That's when it happened. He lost his grip, and fell. His limp, malnourished body couldnt take the fall. He died.
I heard the story, and looked at my mother's face. I thought it was a joke. It had to be. After all, it sounded incredulous.
"Do you know what the mother was crying about?" She asked. "She was crying at her son's funeral, wailing about how the poor boy had to die without ever eating one proper square meal. 'Oh, why did he have such a horrible fate!' the mother wailed."
There was an uncomfortable silence after my mother finished narrating the story. I finished my homework. We had our dinner. I checked my MSN, Facebook and blog. We all went to sleep.
The next day, as my friends called me to hurry up on the way to the canteen, I stopped to take out my Tiffin box. "What happened, didnt bring any money today? I'll pay for you," one of them said.
I shook my head silently but did not reply. After all, he did not know why I had began eating my Tiffin....
If you are a new reader to this blog, check the Top Rated Posts, as well as the Best Posts of 2008.
If you haven't visited here for quite some time, take a look at the latest posts...
Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
28 March 2009
The Meaning of Cheapness
"Which movie do we watch? Dark Knight or Hancock?"
"I love Will Smith!"
"Well, I hear this Joker guy's really good..."
"Fine then," Thomas said, "let's watch both of them."
"What! That's 70 Riyals! I'm not wasting that much money on movies!" Akash cried (you could make that out from the exclamation marks...)
I put my hand on my head, as in, just the palm part of it, like they do in the movies, and then shook - my head only, you know, not my whole body. Anyways, I did that, because I knew what would follow.
"God, you're such a cheapo!" Thomas declared. Here we go again, I thought....
I always had a predefined conception of a Cheapo. In the beginning, I thought a cheapo was someone who wore an over sized, stained shirt, with uncombed hair, grizzled beard, a toe sticking out of their left or right (maybe both) shoes. Then I went to school and learnt about Beggars.
After that, I thought a Cheapo was someone who'd walk into a shop, and exclaim when he sees the price tag of a Dolce & Gabbana jacket. Till date, that's been my view on the topic. Until I thought of Akash and Thomas.
These two buddies of mine are great to hang out with. But only if you knew how each of them behaved. Most of the time, I'd go with the two of them to the Mall, hoping to either enjoy Ice Skating, or catch a Movie. Akash would spend about half an hour wondering whether he'd spend his money on the skating, or the movie. Soon after that, Thomas, who'd have just finished watching a movie, would accompany Akash to the Ice Skating ring.
It's understandable ofcourse. Akash isnt the kind of guy who gets a thick wallet everytime he goes to the mall. Thomas, on the other hand, would never be able to guess how much money his wallet has.
The most painful example of Akash's money mindedness (or Cheapness, depending on how you look at it) came when we had to catch Transformers at the Multiplex. After getting out tickets, we reached the Snack Bar. "Three 7Ups'" Thomas said.
"12 Riyals," the lady replied.
Akash froze. He wasnt too bad at maths, so he figured out the cost of his 7Up Can. "Er, you know what, I think I'll buy my drink from the Supermarket downstairs."
Thomas, who wasnt too bright himself, asked incredulously. "The movie's going to start now. Why on earth would you want to buy your drink from the Supermarket. You can buy it from here right?"
"No, I cant, because, because I need Diet Coke."
Even the lady behind the counter raised her eyebrows, when Akash, a 5 foot 8 inch tall guy who weighed 61 kilos, said that. Thomas was too confused to ask anything more. I merely smiled. A can of soft drink from the Supermarket cost just 1 riyal.
I reached home, and wondered what the meaning of Cheapness was. Could Akash be called cheap? The lady behind the counter certainly would say so. Then something happened, which confused me even more.
Two weeks ago, we were at the theatre again. This time, Thomas's wallet felt considerably lighter. The reasons were clear to me ofcourse. His dad just had a huge pay cut, and the expenses at home were a little on the higher side. "Would you like something to drink?" The lady behind the Snack Bar counter asked.
"Yes, one 7Up," Thomas said, opening his wallet. There were just five riyals left. "Actually, I wont be needing the drink, thank you."
Akash looked around in surprise. So did I.
"Hey, why dont we walk down to the supermarket and get something to drink?" Thomas asked.
"Why?" Akash asked, looking surprised.
"I dont know. I'm in the mood for walking a little. Now, are we going or not?"
We got our drinks, and watched the movie. Still, my question wasnt solved. What is the Meaning of Cheapness? Was Thomas being Cheap, or just saving money? Then what's the limit for saving money and when does it turn into cheapness? Is there a standard for such stuff?
I dont know the answer. Why dont you tell me what you think?
If you are a new reader to this blog, check the Top Rated Posts, as well as the Best Posts of 2008.
If you haven't visited here for quite some time, take a look at the latest posts...
Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
"I love Will Smith!"
"Well, I hear this Joker guy's really good..."
"Fine then," Thomas said, "let's watch both of them."
"What! That's 70 Riyals! I'm not wasting that much money on movies!" Akash cried (you could make that out from the exclamation marks...)
I put my hand on my head, as in, just the palm part of it, like they do in the movies, and then shook - my head only, you know, not my whole body. Anyways, I did that, because I knew what would follow.
"God, you're such a cheapo!" Thomas declared. Here we go again, I thought....
I always had a predefined conception of a Cheapo. In the beginning, I thought a cheapo was someone who wore an over sized, stained shirt, with uncombed hair, grizzled beard, a toe sticking out of their left or right (maybe both) shoes. Then I went to school and learnt about Beggars.
After that, I thought a Cheapo was someone who'd walk into a shop, and exclaim when he sees the price tag of a Dolce & Gabbana jacket. Till date, that's been my view on the topic. Until I thought of Akash and Thomas.
These two buddies of mine are great to hang out with. But only if you knew how each of them behaved. Most of the time, I'd go with the two of them to the Mall, hoping to either enjoy Ice Skating, or catch a Movie. Akash would spend about half an hour wondering whether he'd spend his money on the skating, or the movie. Soon after that, Thomas, who'd have just finished watching a movie, would accompany Akash to the Ice Skating ring.
It's understandable ofcourse. Akash isnt the kind of guy who gets a thick wallet everytime he goes to the mall. Thomas, on the other hand, would never be able to guess how much money his wallet has.
The most painful example of Akash's money mindedness (or Cheapness, depending on how you look at it) came when we had to catch Transformers at the Multiplex. After getting out tickets, we reached the Snack Bar. "Three 7Ups'" Thomas said.
"12 Riyals," the lady replied.
Akash froze. He wasnt too bad at maths, so he figured out the cost of his 7Up Can. "Er, you know what, I think I'll buy my drink from the Supermarket downstairs."
Thomas, who wasnt too bright himself, asked incredulously. "The movie's going to start now. Why on earth would you want to buy your drink from the Supermarket. You can buy it from here right?"
"No, I cant, because, because I need Diet Coke."
Even the lady behind the counter raised her eyebrows, when Akash, a 5 foot 8 inch tall guy who weighed 61 kilos, said that. Thomas was too confused to ask anything more. I merely smiled. A can of soft drink from the Supermarket cost just 1 riyal.
I reached home, and wondered what the meaning of Cheapness was. Could Akash be called cheap? The lady behind the counter certainly would say so. Then something happened, which confused me even more.
Two weeks ago, we were at the theatre again. This time, Thomas's wallet felt considerably lighter. The reasons were clear to me ofcourse. His dad just had a huge pay cut, and the expenses at home were a little on the higher side. "Would you like something to drink?" The lady behind the Snack Bar counter asked.
"Yes, one 7Up," Thomas said, opening his wallet. There were just five riyals left. "Actually, I wont be needing the drink, thank you."
Akash looked around in surprise. So did I.
"Hey, why dont we walk down to the supermarket and get something to drink?" Thomas asked.
"Why?" Akash asked, looking surprised.
"I dont know. I'm in the mood for walking a little. Now, are we going or not?"
We got our drinks, and watched the movie. Still, my question wasnt solved. What is the Meaning of Cheapness? Was Thomas being Cheap, or just saving money? Then what's the limit for saving money and when does it turn into cheapness? Is there a standard for such stuff?
I dont know the answer. Why dont you tell me what you think?
If you are a new reader to this blog, check the Top Rated Posts, as well as the Best Posts of 2008.
If you haven't visited here for quite some time, take a look at the latest posts...
Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
25 March 2009
He Came, He Taught, He Inspired
I still remember the first time he came into my class. The bell had just rung, and we were practicing our customary stretching, when the door swung open. Before I could see who had entered, a figure passed through the side of the class, reached the front, threw his pink purse onto the table, and pulled off the cap from his marker pen.
Then, just as half of us realized that a teacher had entered, he wrote down the subject title on the board. Turning around to survey us, he uttered, "Yes, Sit Down."
And that was it. For the next thirty four minutes, he taught us Geography. And then he left. This was the same teacher, who three years later, had the best farewell any teacher could ask for. Every student in senior school, as well as the parents of those children, knew who he was. And he was my - no, our - Geography Sir. Technically at least. But to most of us, he was a role model, an inspiration.
This Sir of mine, was an imposing figure, even physically. With a height of at least 6 feet 1 inch, and a hefty build, Sir could easily get the attention of a class. But it was not his physique that commanded so much respect. It was his personality. He was a someone whom you'd call, 'A Man of Principles'. As one of the other teachers once told me, "His Dad was in the Air Force, so he had a strict upbringing. He's got none of the vices: Drinking or Smoking."
Once he entered the class, we'd fall silent. No more cross talk, no more stretching. It was his class after all. And his way of teaching was smooth. He'd prepare notes for every day, research the topic thoroughly, and go about it in a systematic manner. In between the class, one of the smarter chaps would raise a doubt. Sir would pause, give a small smile, and then look towards another student. "Yes, Mohammed Musthafa, what do you think is the solution to the problem?"
He had a style of addressing students by the full name. Even those students whose full names we ourselves didn't know.
He was a magnificent House Teacher. For those of you who know Football well, he was like Jose Murinho or Sir Alex Ferguson. Cool, calm, and calculating. There's a story of how he engineered the victory of 2007 Athletic Meet. His House was trailing in the points tally, and everyone was worried. He simply shook his head, and told his relay teams. "Dont worry, if we win the relays, the Cup is ours".
And the Cup was theirs.
How can a teacher make such an impact on students? What does he have to do? Did Sir give us groundbreaking philosophies? Or change our minds in a revolutionary manner? No. He simply stood by his principles.
You could never flatter Sir, even if you had the most buttery tounge in school. You could never influence him either. He was one of the few teachers who never showed partiality, who never corrected papers based on the students who wrote them, who never insulted students and scarred their minds.
When it was announced that Sir would leave our school, the impact was amazing. The talks we had were long and filled with a sense of loss. Every grade, from the senior 10th, down to 7th, felt disappointed. Many of us, for the first time, thought of buying him farewell gifts. We even had a party for him. A students organized party, mind you.
I still remember how he addressed us for the last time from the school podium. Fortunately, I was standing behind the podium, facing the entire school. And after he spoke, I could see the expression on the faces of the students. Their applause was thunderous.
Parents talked about his departure, and about how sad they felt.
What did he leave behind?
A legacy perhaps.
A legacy, that declared him as the best teacher our school ever had. A legacy, that graced his House with two Athletic Meet Trophies. A legacy, that left behind an impression on all the students he ever taught.
People now ask me what I want to become, and most of the time I reply, "An Economist". It all started in Geography classes, when Sir would ask me if I had any new Economic theory to discuss. True, most of what I thought, was impractical and futile. Yet he listened. And he made me think.
This post, is not about how he made me feel. It's about how he made us feel. I'm sure there are dozens more who'd want to express themselves about their favorite teacher. Over to them now...
Please leave your comments, especially if you were a student of Sir as well. However, please don't mention the name. Addressing him as Sir itself will be enough. This is so that there wont be any problems later on. Hope you understand.
And when you're commenting, either use a Google Id, or use the Name/URL option. Please leave your name. Dont comment as Anonymous.
If you are a new reader to this blog, check the Top Rated Posts, as well as the Best Posts of 2008.
If you haven't visited here for quite some time, take a look at the latest posts...
Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
Then, just as half of us realized that a teacher had entered, he wrote down the subject title on the board. Turning around to survey us, he uttered, "Yes, Sit Down."
And that was it. For the next thirty four minutes, he taught us Geography. And then he left. This was the same teacher, who three years later, had the best farewell any teacher could ask for. Every student in senior school, as well as the parents of those children, knew who he was. And he was my - no, our - Geography Sir. Technically at least. But to most of us, he was a role model, an inspiration.
This Sir of mine, was an imposing figure, even physically. With a height of at least 6 feet 1 inch, and a hefty build, Sir could easily get the attention of a class. But it was not his physique that commanded so much respect. It was his personality. He was a someone whom you'd call, 'A Man of Principles'. As one of the other teachers once told me, "His Dad was in the Air Force, so he had a strict upbringing. He's got none of the vices: Drinking or Smoking."
Once he entered the class, we'd fall silent. No more cross talk, no more stretching. It was his class after all. And his way of teaching was smooth. He'd prepare notes for every day, research the topic thoroughly, and go about it in a systematic manner. In between the class, one of the smarter chaps would raise a doubt. Sir would pause, give a small smile, and then look towards another student. "Yes, Mohammed Musthafa, what do you think is the solution to the problem?"
He had a style of addressing students by the full name. Even those students whose full names we ourselves didn't know.
He was a magnificent House Teacher. For those of you who know Football well, he was like Jose Murinho or Sir Alex Ferguson. Cool, calm, and calculating. There's a story of how he engineered the victory of 2007 Athletic Meet. His House was trailing in the points tally, and everyone was worried. He simply shook his head, and told his relay teams. "Dont worry, if we win the relays, the Cup is ours".
And the Cup was theirs.
How can a teacher make such an impact on students? What does he have to do? Did Sir give us groundbreaking philosophies? Or change our minds in a revolutionary manner? No. He simply stood by his principles.
You could never flatter Sir, even if you had the most buttery tounge in school. You could never influence him either. He was one of the few teachers who never showed partiality, who never corrected papers based on the students who wrote them, who never insulted students and scarred their minds.
When it was announced that Sir would leave our school, the impact was amazing. The talks we had were long and filled with a sense of loss. Every grade, from the senior 10th, down to 7th, felt disappointed. Many of us, for the first time, thought of buying him farewell gifts. We even had a party for him. A students organized party, mind you.
I still remember how he addressed us for the last time from the school podium. Fortunately, I was standing behind the podium, facing the entire school. And after he spoke, I could see the expression on the faces of the students. Their applause was thunderous.
Parents talked about his departure, and about how sad they felt.
What did he leave behind?
A legacy perhaps.
A legacy, that declared him as the best teacher our school ever had. A legacy, that graced his House with two Athletic Meet Trophies. A legacy, that left behind an impression on all the students he ever taught.
People now ask me what I want to become, and most of the time I reply, "An Economist". It all started in Geography classes, when Sir would ask me if I had any new Economic theory to discuss. True, most of what I thought, was impractical and futile. Yet he listened. And he made me think.
This post, is not about how he made me feel. It's about how he made us feel. I'm sure there are dozens more who'd want to express themselves about their favorite teacher. Over to them now...
Please leave your comments, especially if you were a student of Sir as well. However, please don't mention the name. Addressing him as Sir itself will be enough. This is so that there wont be any problems later on. Hope you understand.
And when you're commenting, either use a Google Id, or use the Name/URL option. Please leave your name. Dont comment as Anonymous.
If you are a new reader to this blog, check the Top Rated Posts, as well as the Best Posts of 2008.
If you haven't visited here for quite some time, take a look at the latest posts...
Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
16 March 2009
The Second Most Asked Question
Here's a trivia question. What do you think is the second most asked question to kids? The most asked question, is ofcourse, "What's your name?"
The second, according to me, is : What do you want to become when you grow up?
Think about it. Almost all of us have been asked this question as we grew up from childhood to teenage life, and beyond. Whether its an aunt, or a neighbour, or even a passerby admiring us for our cuteness. And sadly, this was the same question which my mother wanted an answer to.
"What are you going to become?" she demanded to know.
Considering the fact that I was a Commerce student, who hated anything to do with Science, as well as Maths, I thought my options were quite limited. Yet even I was wondering. What would I become?
"A CA?"
I hate it when casual onlookers try to throw in their advice. They almost never know what they're talking about, do they?
One day, I was so frustrated that I went for a game of Pool. Sadly, it looked like God wanted to me to fix my career options as soon as possible. My pool partner couldnt stop talking about his plans for Chemical Engineering after 12th. Sometimes it seems like life's conspiring against you, doesnt it?
But then something happened which changed everything. A young man, in his late 20's, asked us if he could join in for a game of Pool. He wasnt the best in the business, but since we werent aiming for the Championships ourselves, we let him join.
Soon the topic came to that of future planning. "Ah, this reminds me of a friend of my grand dad. Used to be a really good guy. Funny thing is, this guy's father wanted him to be an IAS officer. In fact, that was kind of like his dying wish. Well, the fellow didnt make it though. Instead, he had to join some scientific research organisation -"
"Too bad," my friend cut in. "That's what happens when you dont plan out things properly, right? Just imagine if that guy could've made it through the IAS exams..."
The young man merely smiled. "You sound like my friend's dad. He said the same thing to his son as well."
"What happened to his son?" I asked.
"Oh, the same sad story. Except this time, the dad wanted the son to be a doctor. Actually forced the poor chap to appear for the Medical Entrance Examination. And, what do you think would've happened? He failed. Finally the guy decided to leave to Mumbai to follow his own interests, rather than listen to his dad -"
"Pity, real pity. Today's generation, all are the same. Think they know what they're doing. All this following your dream business doesnt work out in actual life."
The young man fell silent, yet had a grin on his face. We began concentrating on the pool game. Surprisingly, it turned into a stiff competition between my friend and the young man. Towards the end though, my friend was in a comfortable lead. Just as the young man took aim to hit his cue ball, he continued the story.
"By the way, I forgot to tell you the names of the two people I was talking about. The first person's name is A.P. J. Abdul Kalam."
The cue ball hit a stripped yellow ball, and it rolled into a pocket.
Seeing the stunned look on our faces, he continued. "And the other person. Well, his name is Resul Pookutty." A sharp hit, and another ball went into the pocket.
"Is this...all true?" I asked, half amused and half suspicious.
"Yes, it's all true. Sure, both of them had plans for the future. Both of them grew up thinking of their careers. But it didnt work out the way they wanted it to, did it? And see where it took them. One became the Rocket Man of India, not to mention one of the best presidents ever. The other, well, he became the third Indian to win an Oscar. Not something their fathers had planned for them, surely."
I looked at the pool table. There was just the 8 ball left. The young man took his aim. It was an impossible shot.
"So why did I tell you this story? Simple. You can plan all you want, about your life ahead. But know that it's not you who decides the future, it's the person above. That doesn't mean you shouldn't bother learning you're lessons. All it means is, believe in fate."
He hit the cue ball hard. It spun, hitting the 8 ball at angle. The ball rolled, hit the side of the pocket, spun for a moment, and then fell into it.
"And who knows," the young man remarked, "sometimes, even the impossible might happen for you."
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The second, according to me, is : What do you want to become when you grow up?
Think about it. Almost all of us have been asked this question as we grew up from childhood to teenage life, and beyond. Whether its an aunt, or a neighbour, or even a passerby admiring us for our cuteness. And sadly, this was the same question which my mother wanted an answer to.
"What are you going to become?" she demanded to know.
Considering the fact that I was a Commerce student, who hated anything to do with Science, as well as Maths, I thought my options were quite limited. Yet even I was wondering. What would I become?
"A CA?"
I hate it when casual onlookers try to throw in their advice. They almost never know what they're talking about, do they?
One day, I was so frustrated that I went for a game of Pool. Sadly, it looked like God wanted to me to fix my career options as soon as possible. My pool partner couldnt stop talking about his plans for Chemical Engineering after 12th. Sometimes it seems like life's conspiring against you, doesnt it?
But then something happened which changed everything. A young man, in his late 20's, asked us if he could join in for a game of Pool. He wasnt the best in the business, but since we werent aiming for the Championships ourselves, we let him join.
Soon the topic came to that of future planning. "Ah, this reminds me of a friend of my grand dad. Used to be a really good guy. Funny thing is, this guy's father wanted him to be an IAS officer. In fact, that was kind of like his dying wish. Well, the fellow didnt make it though. Instead, he had to join some scientific research organisation -"
"Too bad," my friend cut in. "That's what happens when you dont plan out things properly, right? Just imagine if that guy could've made it through the IAS exams..."
The young man merely smiled. "You sound like my friend's dad. He said the same thing to his son as well."
"What happened to his son?" I asked.
"Oh, the same sad story. Except this time, the dad wanted the son to be a doctor. Actually forced the poor chap to appear for the Medical Entrance Examination. And, what do you think would've happened? He failed. Finally the guy decided to leave to Mumbai to follow his own interests, rather than listen to his dad -"
"Pity, real pity. Today's generation, all are the same. Think they know what they're doing. All this following your dream business doesnt work out in actual life."
The young man fell silent, yet had a grin on his face. We began concentrating on the pool game. Surprisingly, it turned into a stiff competition between my friend and the young man. Towards the end though, my friend was in a comfortable lead. Just as the young man took aim to hit his cue ball, he continued the story.
"By the way, I forgot to tell you the names of the two people I was talking about. The first person's name is A.P. J. Abdul Kalam."
The cue ball hit a stripped yellow ball, and it rolled into a pocket.
Seeing the stunned look on our faces, he continued. "And the other person. Well, his name is Resul Pookutty." A sharp hit, and another ball went into the pocket.
"Is this...all true?" I asked, half amused and half suspicious.
"Yes, it's all true. Sure, both of them had plans for the future. Both of them grew up thinking of their careers. But it didnt work out the way they wanted it to, did it? And see where it took them. One became the Rocket Man of India, not to mention one of the best presidents ever. The other, well, he became the third Indian to win an Oscar. Not something their fathers had planned for them, surely."
I looked at the pool table. There was just the 8 ball left. The young man took his aim. It was an impossible shot.
"So why did I tell you this story? Simple. You can plan all you want, about your life ahead. But know that it's not you who decides the future, it's the person above. That doesn't mean you shouldn't bother learning you're lessons. All it means is, believe in fate."
He hit the cue ball hard. It spun, hitting the 8 ball at angle. The ball rolled, hit the side of the pocket, spun for a moment, and then fell into it.
"And who knows," the young man remarked, "sometimes, even the impossible might happen for you."
If you are a new reader to this blog, check the Top Rated Posts, as well as the Best Posts of 2008.
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10 March 2009
"Where Do Hamsters Come From?"
This post is partly rewritten from my previous post: The Bucket List. Dont mind if some of the themes discussed seem repetitive.
It was 1: 45 P.M., and all of us had just trudged back to the bus. Not surprisingly, it's wasnt an exceptionally good day at school. Too much homework in Physics and Chemistry. Tests in the other subjects. Most of us spent our time complaining about it all.
Slowly we turned towards the topic of farewell. Within a year, we would all be parting ways. Everything would change.
"What would you miss the most?" was the question we asked each other. "The bus journey to school." "Friends..." The list carried on for a while. And soon we fell silent, thinking about the future. The song Shadow of the Day by Linkin Park was playing on the mobile. A perfect nostalgic setting.
Suddenly I snapped out of it. "Guys, we need to do more fun stuff before we leave this place. Things like...like the Bucket List!"
Then I told them all about a scene in the movie The Bucket List, where Morgan Freeman is lying on a hospital bed, dying from Cancer. His friend Jack Nicholson is standing next to him. Morgan Freeman, at a time when he's face to face with death, cracks a joke which sends both of them into fits of laughter. They continue laughing hysterically, forgetting all their worries. And then Morgan Freeman asks Jack Nicholson for a pen. He takes out paper from his bag, and strikes out an item in his bucket list.
Later, when we were a few minutes away from exiting the bus, I turned towards two of my good buddies, and said, "Guys, let's crack some lame jokes. Anyone got one?"
One of my friends had one ready. He took a short breath and asked: Where do Hamsters come from?
"Where do they come from?" The two of us asked.
"Hamsterdam!" It was one of the lamest jokes possible. Yet the three of us laughed. Laughed so hard, that we couldnt even give proper hi-fi's to each other. We laughed until our stomachs pained, and tears filled our eyes. It was one moment when I wished time would never change. But sadly, the day will come, when we'll be dressed in our suits and sarees, posing for our final pictures together. We will all tell how much we'll miss each other. But even on that day, when my friend turns around and asks, "Where do Hamsters come from?",
Leave your comments. Of late, many readers have merely read the posts. Reading is more than appreciated. But it's only comments which will help keep this blog running properly. Also please choose an OpenId for commenting, instead of Anonymous.
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It was 1: 45 P.M., and all of us had just trudged back to the bus. Not surprisingly, it's wasnt an exceptionally good day at school. Too much homework in Physics and Chemistry. Tests in the other subjects. Most of us spent our time complaining about it all.
Slowly we turned towards the topic of farewell. Within a year, we would all be parting ways. Everything would change.
"What would you miss the most?" was the question we asked each other. "The bus journey to school." "Friends..." The list carried on for a while. And soon we fell silent, thinking about the future. The song Shadow of the Day by Linkin Park was playing on the mobile. A perfect nostalgic setting.
Suddenly I snapped out of it. "Guys, we need to do more fun stuff before we leave this place. Things like...like the Bucket List!"
Then I told them all about a scene in the movie The Bucket List, where Morgan Freeman is lying on a hospital bed, dying from Cancer. His friend Jack Nicholson is standing next to him. Morgan Freeman, at a time when he's face to face with death, cracks a joke which sends both of them into fits of laughter. They continue laughing hysterically, forgetting all their worries. And then Morgan Freeman asks Jack Nicholson for a pen. He takes out paper from his bag, and strikes out an item in his bucket list.
To Laugh Till I Cry.
Later, when we were a few minutes away from exiting the bus, I turned towards two of my good buddies, and said, "Guys, let's crack some lame jokes. Anyone got one?"
One of my friends had one ready. He took a short breath and asked: Where do Hamsters come from?
"Where do they come from?" The two of us asked.
"Hamsterdam!" It was one of the lamest jokes possible. Yet the three of us laughed. Laughed so hard, that we couldnt even give proper hi-fi's to each other. We laughed until our stomachs pained, and tears filled our eyes. It was one moment when I wished time would never change. But sadly, the day will come, when we'll be dressed in our suits and sarees, posing for our final pictures together. We will all tell how much we'll miss each other. But even on that day, when my friend turns around and asks, "Where do Hamsters come from?",
I'll have a smile on my face...
Leave your comments. Of late, many readers have merely read the posts. Reading is more than appreciated. But it's only comments which will help keep this blog running properly. Also please choose an OpenId for commenting, instead of Anonymous.
If you are a new reader to this blog, check the Top Rated Posts, as well as the Best Posts of 2008.
If you haven't visited here for quite some time, take a look at the latest posts...
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08 March 2009
My Mother's Birthday
There I was, with my classmates, chatting away, when someone yelled out to us, "Happy Women's Day!"
The others paid no attention to the yelling. Even I turned my back. But then it struck me. "Shoot!"
"What happened?" some asked.
"Crap! Today's my mother's birthday!"
It's been like this for the past so many years. And almost all the time, I only remember my mother's birthday, because (thankfully) it falls on World Women's Day.
I went back home. And guess what? I forget all about the birthday. Till about 8 in the evening. That's when I looked at my Mom and said. "By the way, it's your birthday right?"
She nodded her head, partly surprised that I remembered after all. That was the end of it.
Then I came online. And checked Facebook. Visited Orkut. Quickly logged in and out of MSN. That's when it struck me. Wasnt something wrong here?
Imagine how you or I would have felt if no one wished us on our birthdays. In fact, most of us subconsiously keep a count of how many people wish us. We check our Walls, Scrapbooks, MSN Offliners, Gmail accounts, Mobile Sms's, Telephone calls...all because some years ago, we were born on that particular day.
What about my Mother? Her birthday, sad to say, was no different from any other day of her life. There's wasnt even anything special for dinner, since I wasnt feeling too well.
Sure, not all of us are as unabashedly shameless as I am. But some of you, atleast a handful, must be knowing what I'm talking about. It doesnt have to be Mom's birthday. It could be your Dad's as well. Or why not, even your Grandparents...
For sixteen years of my existence, never for once had I woken up, with the thought that today was my Mother's birthday. I felt ashamed. I promised myself that next year would be different.
But as I got up from the study table, I realised not everything has to wait. Leaning over, I hugged my mother, and gave her a kiss. Perhaps that would make her day a little more special....
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The others paid no attention to the yelling. Even I turned my back. But then it struck me. "Shoot!"
"What happened?" some asked.
"Crap! Today's my mother's birthday!"
It's been like this for the past so many years. And almost all the time, I only remember my mother's birthday, because (thankfully) it falls on World Women's Day.
I went back home. And guess what? I forget all about the birthday. Till about 8 in the evening. That's when I looked at my Mom and said. "By the way, it's your birthday right?"
She nodded her head, partly surprised that I remembered after all. That was the end of it.
Then I came online. And checked Facebook. Visited Orkut. Quickly logged in and out of MSN. That's when it struck me. Wasnt something wrong here?
Imagine how you or I would have felt if no one wished us on our birthdays. In fact, most of us subconsiously keep a count of how many people wish us. We check our Walls, Scrapbooks, MSN Offliners, Gmail accounts, Mobile Sms's, Telephone calls...all because some years ago, we were born on that particular day.
What about my Mother? Her birthday, sad to say, was no different from any other day of her life. There's wasnt even anything special for dinner, since I wasnt feeling too well.
Sure, not all of us are as unabashedly shameless as I am. But some of you, atleast a handful, must be knowing what I'm talking about. It doesnt have to be Mom's birthday. It could be your Dad's as well. Or why not, even your Grandparents...
For sixteen years of my existence, never for once had I woken up, with the thought that today was my Mother's birthday. I felt ashamed. I promised myself that next year would be different.
But as I got up from the study table, I realised not everything has to wait. Leaning over, I hugged my mother, and gave her a kiss. Perhaps that would make her day a little more special....
If you are a new reader to this blog, check the Top Rated Posts, as well as the Best Posts of 2008.
If you haven't visited here for quite some time, take a look at the latest posts...
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01 March 2009
You Had A Bad Day?
It was one of those days when life seemed horrible in every possible way. About three months ago, I had a huge fight with a very close friend of mine. And like any other teenager, it affected me a lot. In fact, my entire day at school went bad. For some odd reason, there seemed to be no joy left in the world anymore.
As thought that wasnt enough, I got out of school, only to realise that my bus had left without me. How much more miserable could life get? Deciding that I needed to get home before I broke down and cried about my pitiful life, I walked towards the nearest bus stop.
That's where I met Irfan. He was taller, and more good looking than me. And with his bag slung across his shoulders, he looked like a college kid. We began talking, and soon I found myself ranting about life and all its problems. He was a patient listener. In fact, he was a passive listener. He smiled when he had to, shook his head sympathetically when he had to. For half an hour, that was all he did.
Then the bus arrived, and we both got on board. By now I felt as though I knew him my whole life. It's easier to make a friend when you're feeling horrible, I guess.
Then suddenly, I realised that I never asked him anything about himself.
"So, dude, tell me. How was your day?"
He smiled. The kind of smile that makes you wonder what the person is thinking. And then he told me how his day was.
Irfan was a 12th grader. Not a very studious 12th grader, unfortunately. In fact, the school in which he was studiying, had decided not to allow him to write the Boards. The only way he would be able to write, was if he passed his Physics Pre-Boards. That day was his Physics Pre-Board. Realising that he had just one shot at getting his school life in order, Irfan studied as hard as he could.
Things were looking quite positive that morning. He left his house, boarded the bus, and was revising his lessons. Just as he reached the school, though, things changed. Irfan realised that he had forgotten his Hall Ticket. Without that, he wouldnt be able to write his Preboards. There were just a few minutes left for the exam to begin. And the bus driver refused to take him back to his house.
Irfan ran the fastest he had ever run in his entire life. He ran through the streets, dodging passerbyes and crossing busy roads. With sweat making his shirt stick to his body, he ran all the way to his house, which you can understand is far(why else would he use a bus to get to school, right?).
He got the Hall Ticket, and ran all the way back as well. But well, as they say, all bad things happen together. He was 20 minutes late for the exam. What was more, with all the sudden rush of running across the city, Irfan couldnt seem to remember what he had learnt. That happens to many of us, right? The only difference is, we've never had to run across town for our hall tickets.
Irfan did badly in the exam. That's actually an understatement. He wasnt sure of passing. In fact, within an hour of submitting the paper, he was called to the Principal's office. Seems they had a jolly easy time correcting his paper. There was nothing much in it. And then came the bad news. Irfan wouldnt be given the Admit Card for his Boards. Without an Admit Card, he wouldnt be able to write his Board Exams. Without writing his Board Exams....well, there's nothing much he could do about his further studies.
"So what now?" I asked him after he had finished telling the story. "Well, I'll have to bring my parents to meet the Principal. If he allows, then I'll be able to write the exam. I'll have to wait till January 3rd. Six long days, till January 3rd."
The bus stopped, and Irfan got up. "Anyways dude, take care," he said as he got down. "And I hope everything turns out alright between you and your buddy. Cheer up!"
The bus moved again. I was the only remaining passenger. The bus driver called out, "Where to, young man?"
I couldnt hear him. I was thinking about my bad day. Suddenly, life didnt seem so miserable. Suddenly, I didnt feel as though I was a victim of faith. In fact, I said a silent prayer. A prayer for everything good in my life. And also a prayer for Irfan, who had to wait six days to know whether he could write his Boards, and save his future studies...
Note: This story was actually inspired from a real life incident. Though the name, incident and dialogues have been changed, the effect it had on me was real. Waiting to hear your comments...
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As thought that wasnt enough, I got out of school, only to realise that my bus had left without me. How much more miserable could life get? Deciding that I needed to get home before I broke down and cried about my pitiful life, I walked towards the nearest bus stop.
That's where I met Irfan. He was taller, and more good looking than me. And with his bag slung across his shoulders, he looked like a college kid. We began talking, and soon I found myself ranting about life and all its problems. He was a patient listener. In fact, he was a passive listener. He smiled when he had to, shook his head sympathetically when he had to. For half an hour, that was all he did.
Then the bus arrived, and we both got on board. By now I felt as though I knew him my whole life. It's easier to make a friend when you're feeling horrible, I guess.
Then suddenly, I realised that I never asked him anything about himself.
"So, dude, tell me. How was your day?"
He smiled. The kind of smile that makes you wonder what the person is thinking. And then he told me how his day was.
Irfan was a 12th grader. Not a very studious 12th grader, unfortunately. In fact, the school in which he was studiying, had decided not to allow him to write the Boards. The only way he would be able to write, was if he passed his Physics Pre-Boards. That day was his Physics Pre-Board. Realising that he had just one shot at getting his school life in order, Irfan studied as hard as he could.
Things were looking quite positive that morning. He left his house, boarded the bus, and was revising his lessons. Just as he reached the school, though, things changed. Irfan realised that he had forgotten his Hall Ticket. Without that, he wouldnt be able to write his Preboards. There were just a few minutes left for the exam to begin. And the bus driver refused to take him back to his house.
Irfan ran the fastest he had ever run in his entire life. He ran through the streets, dodging passerbyes and crossing busy roads. With sweat making his shirt stick to his body, he ran all the way to his house, which you can understand is far(why else would he use a bus to get to school, right?).
He got the Hall Ticket, and ran all the way back as well. But well, as they say, all bad things happen together. He was 20 minutes late for the exam. What was more, with all the sudden rush of running across the city, Irfan couldnt seem to remember what he had learnt. That happens to many of us, right? The only difference is, we've never had to run across town for our hall tickets.
Irfan did badly in the exam. That's actually an understatement. He wasnt sure of passing. In fact, within an hour of submitting the paper, he was called to the Principal's office. Seems they had a jolly easy time correcting his paper. There was nothing much in it. And then came the bad news. Irfan wouldnt be given the Admit Card for his Boards. Without an Admit Card, he wouldnt be able to write his Board Exams. Without writing his Board Exams....well, there's nothing much he could do about his further studies.
"So what now?" I asked him after he had finished telling the story. "Well, I'll have to bring my parents to meet the Principal. If he allows, then I'll be able to write the exam. I'll have to wait till January 3rd. Six long days, till January 3rd."
The bus stopped, and Irfan got up. "Anyways dude, take care," he said as he got down. "And I hope everything turns out alright between you and your buddy. Cheer up!"
The bus moved again. I was the only remaining passenger. The bus driver called out, "Where to, young man?"
I couldnt hear him. I was thinking about my bad day. Suddenly, life didnt seem so miserable. Suddenly, I didnt feel as though I was a victim of faith. In fact, I said a silent prayer. A prayer for everything good in my life. And also a prayer for Irfan, who had to wait six days to know whether he could write his Boards, and save his future studies...
Note: This story was actually inspired from a real life incident. Though the name, incident and dialogues have been changed, the effect it had on me was real. Waiting to hear your comments...
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24 February 2009
Brain Damage, Anyone?
Albert Einstein once said:
Though I'm surprised that Einstein used a 'pretty girl' to explain the Theory of Relativity, I now realise what he meant. The past few hours made me realize how slow time can move.
You've probably been in the same situation as me. The MSN Messenger is on, but there's hardly anyone interesting to chat with. Even the fellows you normally block arent online at that time. Your Gmail Inbox is lying bare, making you feel even more annoyed. If you've noticed, the kind souls at Google try to cheer you up, by offering you stuff to read else. Bless them!
But you know you're really bored, when you've finished refreshing your Facebook Hompage a dozen times. That shows how slow time can really go. Many a times I've waited for someone's status update, as though it's a long awaited letter.
I think I should be diagnosed with Brain Damage. Since you're probably too bored to visit the doctor, I'll give you a few symptoms. Diagnose yourself and let me know.
The Main Symptoms are:
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Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute.
Though I'm surprised that Einstein used a 'pretty girl' to explain the Theory of Relativity, I now realise what he meant. The past few hours made me realize how slow time can move.
You've probably been in the same situation as me. The MSN Messenger is on, but there's hardly anyone interesting to chat with. Even the fellows you normally block arent online at that time. Your Gmail Inbox is lying bare, making you feel even more annoyed. If you've noticed, the kind souls at Google try to cheer you up, by offering you stuff to read else. Bless them!
But you know you're really bored, when you've finished refreshing your Facebook Hompage a dozen times. That shows how slow time can really go. Many a times I've waited for someone's status update, as though it's a long awaited letter.
I think I should be diagnosed with Brain Damage. Since you're probably too bored to visit the doctor, I'll give you a few symptoms. Diagnose yourself and let me know.
The Main Symptoms are:
- Opening My Computer, and visiting all the folders you have, interchanging between Backspace and Enter keys. Even the viruses on your PC knows something's wrong.
- Watching the clock, so much so that after a while, it seems as though the hour hand is actually moving fast.
- For Orkut users, a popular method. Reading every friend's scrap book. For those who've been diagonsed with severe brain damage, there's always cross referencing, whereby they read all the conversations your friend has with his or her friends about a third friend's farewell party....(you get the point, dont you?).
- For Facebook users, updating your status bar every ten minutes, to let the world know....you're still bored.
- For the Wiki users, clicking on any article, and finally clicking every possible link....until you finally wonder what Cellular Level Pulverisation actually is.
- For the Mobile phone users, searching your mobile inside out, in hopes of finding secret files or folders. Some even try to beat the world top score in Snake II. Others merely give miscalls to all their contacts. And then the process is repeated all over again.
- How could I forget. You must be doing this right now. Visiting every album in Orkut or Facebook, regardless of whether he or she is your friend or not.
- For the slightly retarded, there's always the favourite F5 moment. Meaning these guys actually press F5 (the shortkey for refreshing), in the hopes of finding something new on their Desktop.
- For the over expressive, typing out long, list like blog posts which actually dont make much sense at all...
- And the all time symptom....reading completely unknown blogs (such as these), since you've dead bored.
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23 February 2009
And The Oscar Goes To......A.R. Rahman!
After months of waiting, days of praying, and several hours spent without sleep, it's finally been worth the wait. He's done it! A.R. Rahman is now an Oscar Winner!
This was the most awaited Oscar Ceremony for any Indian, for where else do you see an Indian being nominated for three awards in the most talked about award Ceremony in the world?
The nominations as you all know, were these:
Best Original Score - A.R. Rahman for Slumdog Millionaire
Best Original Song - A.R. Rahman for Jai Ho
Best Original Song - A.R. Rahman for O...Saaya
And the Oscar goes to...
Best Original Score - A.R. Rahman for Slumdog Millionaire
Best Original Song - A.R. Rahman for Jai Ho
Oscar winners normally generate a lot of publicity. This time over, you can be sure a nation of One Billion people will be in a frenzy. Watch out for the newspapers and magazines. And yes, for those of you who've chosen to sleep over one of the biggest cinematic victory for an Indian, there's always Youtube...
Waiting to know your comments....and yes, Jai Ho!
Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
This was the most awaited Oscar Ceremony for any Indian, for where else do you see an Indian being nominated for three awards in the most talked about award Ceremony in the world?
The nominations as you all know, were these:
Best Original Score - A.R. Rahman for Slumdog Millionaire
Best Original Song - A.R. Rahman for Jai Ho
Best Original Song - A.R. Rahman for O...Saaya
And the Oscar goes to...
Best Original Score - A.R. Rahman for Slumdog Millionaire
Best Original Song - A.R. Rahman for Jai Ho
Oscar winners normally generate a lot of publicity. This time over, you can be sure a nation of One Billion people will be in a frenzy. Watch out for the newspapers and magazines. And yes, for those of you who've chosen to sleep over one of the biggest cinematic victory for an Indian, there's always Youtube...
Waiting to know your comments....and yes, Jai Ho!
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01 February 2009
My Letter to Roger...
Dear Rog,
I was told not to write a letter to you. But after what I saw on Sunday evening, I decided you needed my help. Dude, what's wrong with you? The way you cried, it looked as though you'd played your last match against that weasel Raffy. And I heard you were moaning in between your crying, that Rafael Nadal is better than you. Did you actually say that? What's wrong with you?
Okay, so he won the Wimbledon last year. And maybe he can defeat you in the French Open with his eyes blindfolded. Still, that doesnt mean you're not good yourself, does it? What did McEnroe say? You're the best in the world. Now that's a compliment, isnt it?
And hey Rog, even if it is time for you to retire, it's not like your in the dumps, is it? Atleast you're not balding like Pete, or Agassi. And the ladies really adore you, you know. You're way more cute than Rafael Nadal. But try to work on the biceps if you can. It helps.
Cheer up mate. It's not like the end of the world. And one more thing. Never ever cry like you did after losing the Australian Open. Not unless you win the Wimbledon this year (which, I should admit, is going to be hard, since Nadal's gonna be there as well). Still, take care buddy!
Love,
You're Pal from Qatar.
P.S.: With all due respect to Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal, this was just a fancy letter I thought of. Besides, I really do feel bad for Rog. Poor chap! And one more thing....though transmission is supposed to suspended....I might post something once in a week or two weeks!
Note: Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
I was told not to write a letter to you. But after what I saw on Sunday evening, I decided you needed my help. Dude, what's wrong with you? The way you cried, it looked as though you'd played your last match against that weasel Raffy. And I heard you were moaning in between your crying, that Rafael Nadal is better than you. Did you actually say that? What's wrong with you?
Okay, so he won the Wimbledon last year. And maybe he can defeat you in the French Open with his eyes blindfolded. Still, that doesnt mean you're not good yourself, does it? What did McEnroe say? You're the best in the world. Now that's a compliment, isnt it?
And hey Rog, even if it is time for you to retire, it's not like your in the dumps, is it? Atleast you're not balding like Pete, or Agassi. And the ladies really adore you, you know. You're way more cute than Rafael Nadal. But try to work on the biceps if you can. It helps.
Cheer up mate. It's not like the end of the world. And one more thing. Never ever cry like you did after losing the Australian Open. Not unless you win the Wimbledon this year (which, I should admit, is going to be hard, since Nadal's gonna be there as well). Still, take care buddy!
Love,
You're Pal from Qatar.
P.S.: With all due respect to Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal, this was just a fancy letter I thought of. Besides, I really do feel bad for Rog. Poor chap! And one more thing....though transmission is supposed to suspended....I might post something once in a week or two weeks!
Note: Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
23 January 2009
Thanks For The Memories
For those of you who hate my philosophical musings, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is, what I'm going to say now is quite philosophical. The good news is....you'll probably like it.
Last Wednesday, my classmates and I went to the Sand Dunes as part of our annual picnic. The details arent necessary, since most you already know everything about it. But there was a catch in this particular picnic.
We werent allowed to bring cameras (the school had its own valid reasons, it seems). Nor were we allowed to bring Mobile Phones (that too, for a reason). In fact, we couldnt bring anything that had a motor or used even one watt of electricity. Not surprisingly, the school had its reasons.
Now the question was this. What on earth were we going to do in a picnic, where we didnt have Ipods and Sony Cameras? What good is it if there arent mobile phones in our pockets?
The pissed off mood amongst me and my friends, almost lead us to drop the idea of going for the picnic. But somehow, everyone decided to go anyways. It would suck, 'to the core', as one of my friends rightly pointed out.
Well, surprisingly, it didnt.
In fact, it was a whole lot of fun? You want to know why?
I wouldnt be able to pin point the reason. All we did, was play football or rugby in the beach side, build sand castles (some pretty good ones, I must add!), and finally, walk up and down the sand dunes. We didnt even get buggies to ride, for god sakes!
So who's responsible for making the trip fun? I think it's the guy who lunged onto me when I was playing Rugby. Or the guy who helped me build a fine sand castle. Perhaps the credit goes to the fellow who pushed me down the sand dunes. Better still, it goes to the guy who helped me chase down the guy who pushed me in the first place. How can I forget the guys (and girls) who sang along to my horrible, musically challenged singing? And what about the sixty odd fellows who stomped their legs and clapped their hands to the tune of 'We Will Rock You!'.
Wait a minute, I just realised what made this trip fun. You. You and Me. We made it fun. Because 'fun', as we teenagers call it, isnt provided by Apple Inc. or Nokia. It's provided by our friends. Sure, it would have helped to have a music player. But singing out of tune was way more fun. A Buggy would have made it easier to climb the Dunes, but I'd never miss the chance to roll down the sand with my buddies.
I could go on now, but time (and patience) is of the essence. If there's one thing 21st January, 2008 taught me, it's this: Life's best moments are the ones that you share with your loved ones. In this case, you guys!
With Love,
Musthafa
P.S.: Thanks for the Memories
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
Last Wednesday, my classmates and I went to the Sand Dunes as part of our annual picnic. The details arent necessary, since most you already know everything about it. But there was a catch in this particular picnic.
We werent allowed to bring cameras (the school had its own valid reasons, it seems). Nor were we allowed to bring Mobile Phones (that too, for a reason). In fact, we couldnt bring anything that had a motor or used even one watt of electricity. Not surprisingly, the school had its reasons.
Now the question was this. What on earth were we going to do in a picnic, where we didnt have Ipods and Sony Cameras? What good is it if there arent mobile phones in our pockets?
The pissed off mood amongst me and my friends, almost lead us to drop the idea of going for the picnic. But somehow, everyone decided to go anyways. It would suck, 'to the core', as one of my friends rightly pointed out.
Well, surprisingly, it didnt.
In fact, it was a whole lot of fun? You want to know why?
I wouldnt be able to pin point the reason. All we did, was play football or rugby in the beach side, build sand castles (some pretty good ones, I must add!), and finally, walk up and down the sand dunes. We didnt even get buggies to ride, for god sakes!
So who's responsible for making the trip fun? I think it's the guy who lunged onto me when I was playing Rugby. Or the guy who helped me build a fine sand castle. Perhaps the credit goes to the fellow who pushed me down the sand dunes. Better still, it goes to the guy who helped me chase down the guy who pushed me in the first place. How can I forget the guys (and girls) who sang along to my horrible, musically challenged singing? And what about the sixty odd fellows who stomped their legs and clapped their hands to the tune of 'We Will Rock You!'.
Wait a minute, I just realised what made this trip fun. You. You and Me. We made it fun. Because 'fun', as we teenagers call it, isnt provided by Apple Inc. or Nokia. It's provided by our friends. Sure, it would have helped to have a music player. But singing out of tune was way more fun. A Buggy would have made it easier to climb the Dunes, but I'd never miss the chance to roll down the sand with my buddies.
I could go on now, but time (and patience) is of the essence. If there's one thing 21st January, 2008 taught me, it's this: Life's best moments are the ones that you share with your loved ones. In this case, you guys!
With Love,
Musthafa
P.S.: Thanks for the Memories
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
10 January 2009
My Family Pack
A few days ago, I called my buddy, only to find out that he was not at home. Over an hour later, I again called, and he pantingly answered the phone.
"Where on earth were you?" I asked, slightly annoyed.
"Dude, I was at the gym. Ghajini has really inspired me to work on my abs. I'm doing Ab Crunches every day..."
I did not know it then, but it was the beginning of a wonderful adventure...
For the next few days, I kept hearing about how good the exercises were. Then something convinced me to try it out for myself. Perhaps it was the little fact that : Abs were the most attractive part of the male body.
"Dude," I finally told him, "what do you think? Should I get an eight pack, or is a six pack enough for now?" I couldnt hear his reply, since he began howling with laughter. Pessimist, I thought. I'd get a six pack for now...
With complete dedication, I set out for my local gym. I approached the Gym Instructor, and told him, "I would like to develop abs." It was like asking for a bottle of strawberry milk at a department store.
The Gym Instructor observed me from top to bottom, and his lips twitched slightly. I think they teach the Instructors to remain polite.
He took me to a bench, which was slightly curved in shape, and had a bar at one end. I was supposed to lie down on the bench, with my ankles below the bar. Then, just as he illustrated to me, I was supposed to lift my upper body, till I could touch my uplifted knees. I hope you understood.
After saying a small prayer, I lay down on the bench, and was about to start my 6 pack ab campaign, when the Instructor told. "Three sets, okay?"
"Sure," I said, with a smile.
Now, have you heard a pig grunt? Seriously, have you? If you have, then you'll be able to understand the kind of sounds I produced when I did the exercise. I know for certain that they were unbearable, since an old man who was walking on a treadmill, increased the volume of the television.
After I was done, I lay down triumphantly on the bench, my till now undisturbed tummy, completely exercised. "I'm done coach!" I said.
The Instructor's lips twitched again. In fact, he placed his finger in his mouth, and bit hard so as not to laugh. "No, no," he said, almost choking, "you did three repetitions. Ten repetitions make one set. Like that, you should do three sets."
The next day, when my buddy called, I was busy devouring a KFC bucket.
"So dude, how's your exercising routine going?" he asked, panting as usual.
"Err...actually, I'm stopped for now." I said.
"Really? But then, what about you're six packs?"
I paused, thinking of my reply. My eyes caught the label on the KFC bucket.
"For now, I'm happy with my Family Pack..."
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
"Where on earth were you?" I asked, slightly annoyed.
"Dude, I was at the gym. Ghajini has really inspired me to work on my abs. I'm doing Ab Crunches every day..."
I did not know it then, but it was the beginning of a wonderful adventure...
For the next few days, I kept hearing about how good the exercises were. Then something convinced me to try it out for myself. Perhaps it was the little fact that : Abs were the most attractive part of the male body.
"Dude," I finally told him, "what do you think? Should I get an eight pack, or is a six pack enough for now?" I couldnt hear his reply, since he began howling with laughter. Pessimist, I thought. I'd get a six pack for now...
With complete dedication, I set out for my local gym. I approached the Gym Instructor, and told him, "I would like to develop abs." It was like asking for a bottle of strawberry milk at a department store.
The Gym Instructor observed me from top to bottom, and his lips twitched slightly. I think they teach the Instructors to remain polite.
He took me to a bench, which was slightly curved in shape, and had a bar at one end. I was supposed to lie down on the bench, with my ankles below the bar. Then, just as he illustrated to me, I was supposed to lift my upper body, till I could touch my uplifted knees. I hope you understood.
After saying a small prayer, I lay down on the bench, and was about to start my 6 pack ab campaign, when the Instructor told. "Three sets, okay?"
"Sure," I said, with a smile.
Now, have you heard a pig grunt? Seriously, have you? If you have, then you'll be able to understand the kind of sounds I produced when I did the exercise. I know for certain that they were unbearable, since an old man who was walking on a treadmill, increased the volume of the television.
After I was done, I lay down triumphantly on the bench, my till now undisturbed tummy, completely exercised. "I'm done coach!" I said.
The Instructor's lips twitched again. In fact, he placed his finger in his mouth, and bit hard so as not to laugh. "No, no," he said, almost choking, "you did three repetitions. Ten repetitions make one set. Like that, you should do three sets."
The next day, when my buddy called, I was busy devouring a KFC bucket.
"So dude, how's your exercising routine going?" he asked, panting as usual.
"Err...actually, I'm stopped for now." I said.
"Really? But then, what about you're six packs?"
I paused, thinking of my reply. My eyes caught the label on the KFC bucket.
"For now, I'm happy with my Family Pack..."
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
31 December 2008
"Happy New Year!"
Just about a few hours more, and we're into 2009...
Now, I'm writing this post, for those people who arent going to be invited to a big shot party, or celebration. People like me, who will have to welcome 2009 in more simpler ways. I thought of a few innovative ways to make this New Year Countdown interesting...
Innovation #1: Shout 6000,5999,5998...
If you have absolutely nothing to do from the evening of 31st December onwards...you might as well start the countdown. Remember, there are 60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour. So if you're starting you're countdown at 8 P.M., that means you'll be shouting, "14,400, 14,399, 14,398!"
Best of luck!
Innovation #2: "Hi, Happy New Year!"
For this one, all you need is a phone. Wait till 12 Midnight, and immediately call your best friend. Wish him or her, and then call up your second closest friend. Do this until: A) You fall asleep, B) You're friend curses you for waking him/ her up from sleep...
Innovation #3: Bringing Down The Net
This one is my personal favourite. Log on to your net, access your Facebook or Orkut account. If you are in Facebook, update your status at excatly 12 Midnight. What's the fun? You can see if you're update, "Happy New Year!" comes exactly at 12. Not so fun? Well then, try this...
In Orkut, choose a really popular Community, and ask the members to wish "Happy New Year" excatly at 12. The one who actually gets to 12 Midnight, is declared the winner. Then, watch the fun as Orkut gets jammed, and the server fails...
Innovation #4: Snore
This one's for the lazy goons. Go to bed at 9, and dont wake up until 10 the next morning. That way, you'd have set the tone for the entire year...
Happy New Year Guys!
P.S.: Please tell me how you enjoyed your New Year....
Now, I'm writing this post, for those people who arent going to be invited to a big shot party, or celebration. People like me, who will have to welcome 2009 in more simpler ways. I thought of a few innovative ways to make this New Year Countdown interesting...
Innovation #1: Shout 6000,5999,5998...
If you have absolutely nothing to do from the evening of 31st December onwards...you might as well start the countdown. Remember, there are 60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour. So if you're starting you're countdown at 8 P.M., that means you'll be shouting, "14,400, 14,399, 14,398!"
Best of luck!
Innovation #2: "Hi, Happy New Year!"
For this one, all you need is a phone. Wait till 12 Midnight, and immediately call your best friend. Wish him or her, and then call up your second closest friend. Do this until: A) You fall asleep, B) You're friend curses you for waking him/ her up from sleep...
Innovation #3: Bringing Down The Net
This one is my personal favourite. Log on to your net, access your Facebook or Orkut account. If you are in Facebook, update your status at excatly 12 Midnight. What's the fun? You can see if you're update, "Happy New Year!" comes exactly at 12. Not so fun? Well then, try this...
In Orkut, choose a really popular Community, and ask the members to wish "Happy New Year" excatly at 12. The one who actually gets to 12 Midnight, is declared the winner. Then, watch the fun as Orkut gets jammed, and the server fails...
Innovation #4: Snore
This one's for the lazy goons. Go to bed at 9, and dont wake up until 10 the next morning. That way, you'd have set the tone for the entire year...
Happy New Year Guys!
P.S.: Please tell me how you enjoyed your New Year....
23 December 2008
A Bunch of Cables
It really marvels me how a bunch of cables can cause so much trouble to lives of millions of people…
What I don’t understand as well, is why we’ve become so primitive as to rely on cables under the ground. I’m no scientific expert, but cmon, we’ve got atleast a handful of satellites in the sky nowadays, don’t we?
For those of you who don’t quite get what I’m talking about, let me be more clear. Recently, a few internet cables under the Meditteranean Sea(or some similar sounding place) were cut, some partially, others completely. As a result, fourteen countries in the world are having trouble accessing servers. Thus, people like us have to wait longer to access the internet.
I really didn’t like the news when I heard it. It sounded kiddish. I mean, think about it. You see those ads where they say, Lightining Internet Connection at your finger tips! And so on. Then when you call the customer service department, what do they have to say? Sorry sir, but a few cables have been cut somewhere half way across the world. You’re net connection is going to be slower…
And who are the culprits? I read that some fishing boats that tredged the sea bed accidentally cut the cables. Damn those fishermen!
Well, look at the bright side. From now onwards, whenever I don’t see people commenting on my blog, I can just blame the internet servers. After all, it couldn’t possibly be because of the quality of my blog, could it? So much for vanity….
Still, let’s pray those cables aren’t damaged again, any time soon…
What I don’t understand as well, is why we’ve become so primitive as to rely on cables under the ground. I’m no scientific expert, but cmon, we’ve got atleast a handful of satellites in the sky nowadays, don’t we?
For those of you who don’t quite get what I’m talking about, let me be more clear. Recently, a few internet cables under the Meditteranean Sea(or some similar sounding place) were cut, some partially, others completely. As a result, fourteen countries in the world are having trouble accessing servers. Thus, people like us have to wait longer to access the internet.
I really didn’t like the news when I heard it. It sounded kiddish. I mean, think about it. You see those ads where they say, Lightining Internet Connection at your finger tips! And so on. Then when you call the customer service department, what do they have to say? Sorry sir, but a few cables have been cut somewhere half way across the world. You’re net connection is going to be slower…
And who are the culprits? I read that some fishing boats that tredged the sea bed accidentally cut the cables. Damn those fishermen!
Well, look at the bright side. From now onwards, whenever I don’t see people commenting on my blog, I can just blame the internet servers. After all, it couldn’t possibly be because of the quality of my blog, could it? So much for vanity….
Still, let’s pray those cables aren’t damaged again, any time soon…
17 December 2008
Remembering 2008...
The year is almost about to come to a close. There's hardly two weeks left. So I guess this is the right time to have a traditional, yearly round up. Well, the problem is, no one seems to have prepared a roundup, so I'm stuck with my own, cooked up version. Still, the events that I'll remember this year for, are probably the ones you'll remember it for as well...
Moment #8: The Matrix Meets The Shoethrower
December 15, Baghdad
I've already talked about this, and all of you must've read about it yourself. Still, take a look at my earlier post...
Moment #7: The Human Fish
August 17, Beijing
Most of us dont read the newspapers daily. Those who do, read only the Sports page. Yet all of us had a glance of a 6 foot 4 inch, muscular Michael Phelps, who treated the swimming pool like his backyard playground. The guy was a bit too greedy, dont you think? Not one, not two....but eight gold medals in one go. Kind of pissed off the other swimmers, I think. Still, most of us will remember his name for a few years to come...
Moment #6: Too Many Tubes For A Proton
September 10, Geneava
For a Commerce student like me, it did take more than a few seconds to register the problem. As far as I was aware, a whole lot of scientists were gathering, after spending billions of dollars, just so that they could get a few protons to collide. Sounded like child's play at first. Then when someone said that it could create black holes, the smile on my face vanished. It was funny to read about how Stephen Hawkings went around telling that nothing would happen. And then change the channel and see ten other scientists say that we're doomed. I couldnt decide whether to be scared or relieved. Finally I changed the channel and watched some movie...Still, if something goes wrong, or right, we'll remember this date...
Moment #5: FedEx Vs. Rafa
July 6, Wimbledon
I'm not a fan of Tennis. But even then, I couldnt help but hear about, "The Greatest Tennis Match of All Time". Wimbledon 2008 could have been Roger Federer's 6th consecutive title. Instead, it became Rafael Nadal's first. The score line (6-4. 6-4, 6-7, 6-7, 9-7) reflected the length of the match (the longest at 4 hours and 48 minutes). I wish Roger Federer had won. Still, you have to admire the guy, who came so close to winning, and then said in his loser's speech, "Rafa played amazingly. I congratulate him on his victory. And, I'll be back next year." That's called humility and determination...
Moment #4: Why So Serious?
July 18, Worldwide
Rarely has a movie captured the world's attention so much. The Dark Knight was, quite simply, a great movie. But what was more mesmerising than the movie itself, was it's villain. A character that we admired, and feared at the same time. They dont make good villains anymore. One of the best was The Joker. Heath Ledger, in his last completed role, did an amazing job. He made us remember the character, even after the movie was over. Even after the actor who portrayed the character, passed away...
Moment #3: India In Space
October 22, Outer Space
In a purely patriotic tone, I'm proud that India has finally been able to launch its Chandrayaan into outer space. Oddly though, Sachin Tendulkar's 41st century must have grabbed more headlines than this acheivement. Still, it's something that Indians can all take pride in...
Moment #2: Terror In Mumbai
November 26, Mumbai
There have been more than a handful of terrorists attacks in India, particulary over the last two years. Yet, nothing has wreaked more havoc, than the terrorist attacks carried out on the fateful November 26th. There are many things we can think of doing in the aftermath of it all : Lighting candles to show solidarity, Vent our fury at the politicians, Demand a change in leadership, Declare war on neighbouring countries. But the innocent souls lost that night, will be lost forever...
Moment #1: "Yes We Can!"
November 4, Washington
One of the most popular chants in recent times was "Yes We Can!". An amazing orator brought out his vision, accompanied with this ralliying cry, as a result of which, Barack Obama will become the 44th President of USA. Never before, atleast in recent history, has the world welcomed a President Elect with such happiness. But then again, anyone who follows Mr. Bush, can expect a fair amount of welcome...
These were the finest or most darkest moments of 2008. These are the moments which we'll remember 2008 for...
Moment #8: The Matrix Meets The Shoethrower
December 15, Baghdad
I've already talked about this, and all of you must've read about it yourself. Still, take a look at my earlier post...
Moment #7: The Human Fish
August 17, Beijing
Most of us dont read the newspapers daily. Those who do, read only the Sports page. Yet all of us had a glance of a 6 foot 4 inch, muscular Michael Phelps, who treated the swimming pool like his backyard playground. The guy was a bit too greedy, dont you think? Not one, not two....but eight gold medals in one go. Kind of pissed off the other swimmers, I think. Still, most of us will remember his name for a few years to come...
Moment #6: Too Many Tubes For A Proton
September 10, Geneava
For a Commerce student like me, it did take more than a few seconds to register the problem. As far as I was aware, a whole lot of scientists were gathering, after spending billions of dollars, just so that they could get a few protons to collide. Sounded like child's play at first. Then when someone said that it could create black holes, the smile on my face vanished. It was funny to read about how Stephen Hawkings went around telling that nothing would happen. And then change the channel and see ten other scientists say that we're doomed. I couldnt decide whether to be scared or relieved. Finally I changed the channel and watched some movie...Still, if something goes wrong, or right, we'll remember this date...
Moment #5: FedEx Vs. Rafa
July 6, Wimbledon
I'm not a fan of Tennis. But even then, I couldnt help but hear about, "The Greatest Tennis Match of All Time". Wimbledon 2008 could have been Roger Federer's 6th consecutive title. Instead, it became Rafael Nadal's first. The score line (6-4. 6-4, 6-7, 6-7, 9-7) reflected the length of the match (the longest at 4 hours and 48 minutes). I wish Roger Federer had won. Still, you have to admire the guy, who came so close to winning, and then said in his loser's speech, "Rafa played amazingly. I congratulate him on his victory. And, I'll be back next year." That's called humility and determination...
Moment #4: Why So Serious?
July 18, Worldwide
Rarely has a movie captured the world's attention so much. The Dark Knight was, quite simply, a great movie. But what was more mesmerising than the movie itself, was it's villain. A character that we admired, and feared at the same time. They dont make good villains anymore. One of the best was The Joker. Heath Ledger, in his last completed role, did an amazing job. He made us remember the character, even after the movie was over. Even after the actor who portrayed the character, passed away...
Moment #3: India In Space
October 22, Outer Space
In a purely patriotic tone, I'm proud that India has finally been able to launch its Chandrayaan into outer space. Oddly though, Sachin Tendulkar's 41st century must have grabbed more headlines than this acheivement. Still, it's something that Indians can all take pride in...
Moment #2: Terror In Mumbai
November 26, Mumbai
There have been more than a handful of terrorists attacks in India, particulary over the last two years. Yet, nothing has wreaked more havoc, than the terrorist attacks carried out on the fateful November 26th. There are many things we can think of doing in the aftermath of it all : Lighting candles to show solidarity, Vent our fury at the politicians, Demand a change in leadership, Declare war on neighbouring countries. But the innocent souls lost that night, will be lost forever...
Moment #1: "Yes We Can!"
November 4, Washington
One of the most popular chants in recent times was "Yes We Can!". An amazing orator brought out his vision, accompanied with this ralliying cry, as a result of which, Barack Obama will become the 44th President of USA. Never before, atleast in recent history, has the world welcomed a President Elect with such happiness. But then again, anyone who follows Mr. Bush, can expect a fair amount of welcome...
These were the finest or most darkest moments of 2008. These are the moments which we'll remember 2008 for...
16 December 2008
The Matrix Meets The Shoethrower
I hope I'm not too late in telling this...but did you see the guy who threw the shoe at Bush?
Firstly, I've realised that I must be one of the few people left to talk about the shoe throwing. Why? Check Youtube, and you'll realise just how famous Mr. Bush's dodging tactics were. The video received one million views within one day. I repeat. One Million Views, withing One Day!
But what really fascinated me, was the President himself. I dont know how old he is, but certainly more than 45 right? Even then, I was impressed by the way he dodged the journalist's shoe. Really good reflexes. Wonder if they train the Presidents in such matters...
Still, one pessimistic American's comment caught my attention. "The journalist couldnt even hit Bush on the face? What on earth is he worth for then?".
Imagine the Journalist for a second. I'm presuming he's going to be thrown into prison. Boy, he's going to have one hell of a time. Sitting between Murderers and Robbers, he's going to be asked, "What are you in for?"
"Well....err...you know...I threw two, not one, shoes at President Bush!"
The Iraqi prisoners, obviously impressed, would say, "Wow, what happened then?"
"Err....well, the thing is....he kind of....dodged the shoes." Man, those prisoners are going to be pissed off. The Journalist will be cursing his bad aim, for a long, long time....
Firstly, I've realised that I must be one of the few people left to talk about the shoe throwing. Why? Check Youtube, and you'll realise just how famous Mr. Bush's dodging tactics were. The video received one million views within one day. I repeat. One Million Views, withing One Day!
But what really fascinated me, was the President himself. I dont know how old he is, but certainly more than 45 right? Even then, I was impressed by the way he dodged the journalist's shoe. Really good reflexes. Wonder if they train the Presidents in such matters...
Still, one pessimistic American's comment caught my attention. "The journalist couldnt even hit Bush on the face? What on earth is he worth for then?".
Imagine the Journalist for a second. I'm presuming he's going to be thrown into prison. Boy, he's going to have one hell of a time. Sitting between Murderers and Robbers, he's going to be asked, "What are you in for?"
"Well....err...you know...I threw two, not one, shoes at President Bush!"
The Iraqi prisoners, obviously impressed, would say, "Wow, what happened then?"
"Err....well, the thing is....he kind of....dodged the shoes." Man, those prisoners are going to be pissed off. The Journalist will be cursing his bad aim, for a long, long time....
05 December 2008
A Night of Make-up, Ketchup, and Friendship!
For the sake of my readers, let me tell you that this post, is going to be unbelievably long...
Yesterday, 4th December, 2008, was one the most memorable days of my life. It was the day when my friends and I staged the play, "Julius Caesar", for our school's annual day.
Everything started in the typical excited fashion. We began wearing our costumes, some looking awkward, others looking better than normal. It was good to see Senators wear loose fitting robes along with a satin clothe draped around their bodies. The Guards looked like guards. The fishermen almost looked like real fishermen, thanks entirely due to their fishing nets.
That's when things went upside down a little. Our slighty overzeleous Makeup man, decided to - literaly - give us a new look. Funny looking guys were turned into brooding, fake beard donning men. Those who were supposed to look arrogant (for example Caesar himself)....ended up looking like a cute, entirely harmless, grown up doll.
Still, with layers of make up stuck to our faces, and lipstick on our lips (oh yes, even Caesar liked to dress up as a girl, it seems..), we were ready to put up our final show.
One thing remained....the blood that was needed in the assasination scene. That, would be courtesy of Heinz Tomato Ketchup, it turned out. The ingenious idea, was to put an unsealed packet of Tomato Ketchup, beneath my robe, so that the first evil Senator who stabs me (with a fake plastic knife, mind you), would splatter ketchup over my robe. Ta ta`, we would get a blood soaked Caesar!
It was a risky deal, though. What if the ketchup packet fell off my robe, and landed on the stage floor? Meaning when they stab me, I would step on the ketchup. It would be quite distrubing if Caesar's feet started bleeding when they stabbed his chest.
Yet, everything went well. The ketchup oozed out slowly, so that by the time they were done with me, there was ketchup all over my chest. That was fine. The problem started when I lay on the floor, pretending to be dead. Do you know how repulsive it is to smell ketchup, literally under your nose?
I think I developed a dislike for ketchup after that. There was ketchup all over the robe. Some wiseguy wanted to get some french fries...
But the best part of the play, was what happened after it was over. We all headed to the green room, and with half removed beards, messsed up makeup, and a little bit of ketchup remaining, rejoiced at the success of the play.
That's what struck me the most. It took around two months of regular practices and extra time at school, just to put up this play of ours. Yet, during that time, a lot of things changed. People who barely knew each others names, became friends. Guys who had a mutual dislike towards each other, began laughing together. We became closer, better friends.
And that's what lasts. The make up is washed off within a few hours. The stink of ketchup dies down within a few days. But the friendships we've made. They're just going to get better...
I would like to thank everyone who made this experience memorable. Thanks for the memories, guys!
Yesterday, 4th December, 2008, was one the most memorable days of my life. It was the day when my friends and I staged the play, "Julius Caesar", for our school's annual day.
Everything started in the typical excited fashion. We began wearing our costumes, some looking awkward, others looking better than normal. It was good to see Senators wear loose fitting robes along with a satin clothe draped around their bodies. The Guards looked like guards. The fishermen almost looked like real fishermen, thanks entirely due to their fishing nets.
That's when things went upside down a little. Our slighty overzeleous Makeup man, decided to - literaly - give us a new look. Funny looking guys were turned into brooding, fake beard donning men. Those who were supposed to look arrogant (for example Caesar himself)....ended up looking like a cute, entirely harmless, grown up doll.
Still, with layers of make up stuck to our faces, and lipstick on our lips (oh yes, even Caesar liked to dress up as a girl, it seems..), we were ready to put up our final show.
One thing remained....the blood that was needed in the assasination scene. That, would be courtesy of Heinz Tomato Ketchup, it turned out. The ingenious idea, was to put an unsealed packet of Tomato Ketchup, beneath my robe, so that the first evil Senator who stabs me (with a fake plastic knife, mind you), would splatter ketchup over my robe. Ta ta`, we would get a blood soaked Caesar!
It was a risky deal, though. What if the ketchup packet fell off my robe, and landed on the stage floor? Meaning when they stab me, I would step on the ketchup. It would be quite distrubing if Caesar's feet started bleeding when they stabbed his chest.
Yet, everything went well. The ketchup oozed out slowly, so that by the time they were done with me, there was ketchup all over my chest. That was fine. The problem started when I lay on the floor, pretending to be dead. Do you know how repulsive it is to smell ketchup, literally under your nose?
I think I developed a dislike for ketchup after that. There was ketchup all over the robe. Some wiseguy wanted to get some french fries...
But the best part of the play, was what happened after it was over. We all headed to the green room, and with half removed beards, messsed up makeup, and a little bit of ketchup remaining, rejoiced at the success of the play.
That's what struck me the most. It took around two months of regular practices and extra time at school, just to put up this play of ours. Yet, during that time, a lot of things changed. People who barely knew each others names, became friends. Guys who had a mutual dislike towards each other, began laughing together. We became closer, better friends.
And that's what lasts. The make up is washed off within a few hours. The stink of ketchup dies down within a few days. But the friendships we've made. They're just going to get better...
I would like to thank everyone who made this experience memorable. Thanks for the memories, guys!
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