<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:44:32.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories of a Mercurian...</title><subtitle type='html'>Lord, keep my memory green - Charles Dickens</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-5089320940162530870</id><published>2011-05-05T06:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T06:24:25.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentines day tragedy</title><content type='html'>As told by my friend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, this guy in US wanted to impress his girlfriend in Bangalore..It was their first Valentine and hence, he was taking special care not to screw things up..He thinks hard and finally decided to gift her flowers(well, that's the safest option).. calls up a florist and pays for the flowers. But wait !!! On one condition - The flowers shouldn't be delivered until 12 in the night. The florist agrees and he makes the payment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.55 PM:&lt;br /&gt;Two dark ,burly men armed with flowers, enter the apartment where the girl was staying, with her friends. Being devoid of any common sense, they start banging on the door and demand that it be opened. The girls look thru the peephole and get the fright of their lives. They started screaming and all the neighbors and folks arrive. someone dials the police .. In the meantime, the public decide its too boring to wait and start thrashing those two chaps. Police  arrive and take over the "bashing" duties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one has asked a single question so far, on why those guys were here. Guess, their appearance was a far cry from that of a normal florist..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Questioning finally start and those half conscious guys confess that they were just delivering the flowers to the lady.. To verify this, the policeman takes the girl's mobile and calls her BF in US&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boyfriend - Who was expecting her call for like ages now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sees the ring and expects an" Awwwwwww !!! That was so romantic/blah blahblah" and answers - " Mutheeee !!!" (Muthe means honey in malayalam)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the other end:  " Muthu alla, This is SI Muthuraman . And in Tamil - "Ayogya Naaye, Ini mel oru thundu kadalasu polum India vilekku nee aaykka koodathu" !!! ( Bloody fool - if you try to send as much as even a single piece of paper to India again, I shall break your bones"..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-5089320940162530870?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/5089320940162530870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=5089320940162530870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/5089320940162530870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/5089320940162530870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2011/05/valentines-day-tragedy.html' title='Valentines day tragedy'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-3575897828492397562</id><published>2010-08-22T18:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T21:39:15.262-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My aversion to the best friend of every woman..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Diamonds are forever" it is often said. But lives are not.&lt;br /&gt;We must spare people the ordeal of war, mutilations and death for the sake of conflict diamonds."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Martin Chungong Ayafor, Chairman of the Sierra Leone Panel of Experts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, my friend who just got engaged, was inquiring about the price of a diamond ring at Macy's. He sure earned more than a few appreciative glances from the women around him. After all, the Diamond is the woman's best friend and here was a guy, who wanted nothing but the best that Macy's had to offer, to take home to his beloved. After an hour of shifting thru stones, one of them finally managed to catch his eye. He looked at my face for telltale signs of appreciation, which I duly showered on him, without any inhibition. Hell, my stomach didn't really care about stones and all it needed was some food(which btw, I could only dream of, until I got casanova out of the women's section and to the nearest taco).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on the way back home, he made a casual point that very soon, the tables would be turned and I would be the one doing the stone sifting at Kay's or Macy's. I laughed it off but was totally confused. Would I ever do it ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have this big aversion for a diamond beacause I feel that every buyer is indirectly contributing to destroying a life, far away on another part of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Approx 49% of the world's diamonds ,originate from the African continent - notably Sierra Leone, Angola and Congo. These stones are then sent off to the international trading centers, notably Antwerp, where they are sold off. They then undergo a process of cutting and polishing in smaller centers in Asia - notably India(Gujarat), Thailand, China etc, before they hit the display shelf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what about the real story of a diamond ? Does a buyer ever care about the impoverished hands of the child slaves that first sifted and picked the diamond from a pile of dirt. Do they even know that the hands who transform the diamond from dirty uncut stones into a thing of beauty that melts a woman's heart, are those of a child, who has lost out on his right to education ? Does anyone ever realize that countless people have lost their lives, in another part of the world, because there is a booming market for a shiny stone ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/THHnHGZSX6I/AAAAAAAAECg/S9Sj1imOcOY/s1600/Conflict_diamonds_Merlin_28712_20070319123616.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 278px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/THHnHGZSX6I/AAAAAAAAECg/S9Sj1imOcOY/s320/Conflict_diamonds_Merlin_28712_20070319123616.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508437928412602274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the 1990's until the early 2000's, the extraction of two-third's of the diamonds in Africa were controlled by insurgents and rebel groups. Notably the RUF and the UNITA. It took more than a decade for the governments around the world to take action and come up with the conflict diamond campaign. The Kimberley certification scheme, which was signed subsequently, was made to stop the blood diamonds or the conflict diamonds from entering the market and to assure the buyers that the ones that they purchase don't have a bloody history to them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alls well ? Unfortunately NO. The Kimberley process still has got a number of loopholes. It still manages to list the Diamonds from Zimbabwe, as "conflict free" inspite of the fact that the Zimbabwean military under President Robert Mugabe is using forced labor, murder, and torture to keep production going. It also doesn't do anything to prevent the use of child labour in the third world countries, where the stones are cut and polished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/92FCRmggNqQ?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;amp;color2=0x6b8ab6"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/92FCRmggNqQ?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;amp;color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While sipping a coffee at Starbucks, I pictured myself in the shoes of a guy, trying to impress the woman of his dreams. Would I go ahead and get the stone or would I try to drill my thoughts into her ? Option 2 certainly seemed the more sensible one but I have heard gruesome stories of hubbies being tortured and subjected to military diets involving leafy vegetables by their spouses. Their crime being that they watched a certain Di Caprio movie and said no to buying a diamond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My decision. This one is a no brainer. I hate leafy vegetables. PERIOD.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-3575897828492397562?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92FCRmggNqQ&amp;feature=search' title='My aversion to the best friend of every woman..'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/3575897828492397562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=3575897828492397562' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/3575897828492397562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/3575897828492397562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2010/08/my-aversion-to-womans-best-friend.html' title='My aversion to the best friend of every woman..'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/THHnHGZSX6I/AAAAAAAAECg/S9Sj1imOcOY/s72-c/Conflict_diamonds_Merlin_28712_20070319123616.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-4573853943706043624</id><published>2010-08-20T16:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-21T12:47:05.421-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What not to do on a Friday</title><content type='html'>Characters:&lt;br /&gt;Deep - Mr. Soccer is renowned for coming up with some crazy ideas, which are bound to keep changing every hour or so.&lt;br /&gt;Raj - Mr. Chef prepares some of the best dishes, this side of the town and is one of the core reasons why I look nourished.&lt;br /&gt;Sus - Mr. Rejector is the Man Friday for every purpose imaginable.&lt;br /&gt;Ab - Smart, handsome, single , brilliant..I could go on, but you must, by now, have realized that it's me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A typical Friday in the Hartford office&lt;br /&gt;10.00 am(Breakfast time):&lt;br /&gt;Ab(Helping himself to Raj's breakfast) - I am freaking bored..Lets go for a trip..&lt;br /&gt;Sus &amp; Raj: I am game&lt;br /&gt;Ab: Kewl..Where to ?&lt;br /&gt;Sus: Hmm, the nearest state where we have never set foot. That way, we can increase the "state count" in USA.&lt;br /&gt;Ab(opening Gmaps on his laptop): The possible options are Michigan, Georgia, Iowa&lt;br /&gt;Sus: Shall we goto Florida ? It's just 24 hours away&lt;br /&gt;Ab: Not sure, if we can come back by Monday. We will be tired $hit&lt;br /&gt;Raj: What bout the ticket prices ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 15 mins of checking the ticket prices @ all possible sites on the net&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ab(deep in dumps): It costs like a fortune..Those bastards have upped the prices&lt;br /&gt;Sus: Yeah and I have like 200$ with me. Lets drop the FL plan or else, I will be broke next week.&lt;br /&gt;Ab: What other options do we have ?Say a long drive ? say, 16 hours or so ?&lt;br /&gt;Sus: Yeah baby, I am on. We could book an SUV from hertz. Deep is, after all, a Gold card member.&lt;br /&gt;Ab: Let's check with Deep &amp; Raj&lt;br /&gt;Raj: I am game(for the 2nd time)&lt;br /&gt;Deep: I am not in the mood for a drive&lt;br /&gt;Ab: Why so ?&lt;br /&gt;Deep: I want a break&lt;br /&gt;Ab/Sus in unison: You dumbo, you were resting on your arse for like a week. From what invisible force, do you need a break from ?&lt;br /&gt;Deep: I said I am not in the mood. End of discussion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.50 PM( coffee break)&lt;br /&gt;Ab(brings up the topic once again): So, what do we do tonight ?&lt;br /&gt;Sus: What about a movie ?&lt;br /&gt;Raj: I am game( for the 3rd time)&lt;br /&gt;Ab: Any new ones @ Rave cinemas ?&lt;br /&gt;Sus(opens his flixster app in iphone): hmmm... yeah, Movie X, Movie Y and Movie Z&lt;br /&gt;Ab: X should be senti stuff. Y has a hot actress and Z is all action. Your votes&lt;br /&gt;Sus: Y it is..&lt;br /&gt;Raj: Y, Y, Y !!!&lt;br /&gt;Deep: Y ..&lt;br /&gt;Ab: That's so juvenile..I have some perverts for friends.. hmm, my vote for Y.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.00 PM(on messenger)&lt;br /&gt;Deep: Lets goto Mohegan Sun casino&lt;br /&gt;Raj: I am game(for the 4th time)&lt;br /&gt;Ab: Anything special out there ? I mean, like a show or something&lt;br /&gt;Deep:  Dunno, we could walk all over the place&lt;br /&gt;Sus: Eh, so what about the movie ?&lt;br /&gt;Deep: We can catch the movie after that ? Lets say, the 2.00 AM show&lt;br /&gt;Raj: I need to sleep&lt;br /&gt;Ab &amp; Deep &amp; Sus: Don't be a ninny. Losing a few hours of sleep will not kill anyone&lt;br /&gt;Raj(reluctantly, starts of with his typical drawl): Edaaaaa, I got up @ 6.00 in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;Sus(interrupts him): But you usually sleep from 4.00 to 7 in the evening. You will survive.&lt;br /&gt;Raj(with a long face): OK, I shall try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.00 PM:&lt;br /&gt;Raj on the phone to A: Wake up dude, I am just thinking of a new recipe&lt;br /&gt;Ab(driveling and wiping the spit from his mouth): huh..Whats that ?&lt;br /&gt;Raj: It's a pretty complex dish. Made from...blah blah blah..&lt;br /&gt;Ab: Sounds interesting..But weren't we supposed to catch a movie or something like that ? or was it a trip to mohegan Sun ? I can't remember&lt;br /&gt;Raj: I don't have a clue. D hasn't arrived from his football match. Sooo, what do you think about the dish.&lt;br /&gt;Ab: Mate, you are just about the best cook I have seen in 26 years. Go ahead, it would be a hit.&lt;br /&gt;Raj(elation evident in his voice): Thanks da.. So, come over soon.&lt;br /&gt;Ab: Sure I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.15 PM:&lt;br /&gt;Ab calling Sus:&lt;br /&gt;Sus: Yo buddy, whats up ?&lt;br /&gt;Ab: Weren't we supposed to go somewhere ?&lt;br /&gt;Sus: I guess so..However, I just can't recollect the last decision that we made.&lt;br /&gt;Ab: lets conference D in&lt;br /&gt;Deep comes on the line&lt;br /&gt;Ab &amp; Sus: Dude - Where are we going to, this evening ?&lt;br /&gt;Deep: I have a great idea. Let's hit some kewl pub, where we can have a few drinks&lt;br /&gt;Ab: What ?????????? What about the other plans ? Mohegan Sun/film etc ?&lt;br /&gt;Deep: Not in the mood&lt;br /&gt;Sus: ok.. When do we go ??&lt;br /&gt;Deep: Come over to 635, will start immediately&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.30 PM:&lt;br /&gt;Ab(after a 30 min harrowing drive) enters the apartment. Raj is in the kitchen, turning over the chicken. Deep is in his lungi, hunched over his laptop while S is lying on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ab: Eda, I found this perfect Irish pub in Hartford. Looks to be great, as per the reviews. We can down a couple of beers and catch a late night soccer game.&lt;br /&gt;All 3 stare @ Ab, without any response&lt;br /&gt;Ab: Btw, why aren't you jerks dressed up ?&lt;br /&gt;Sus(with a wide grin): Hey buddy, there is a slight change in the plan.&lt;br /&gt;Ab(groaning): What now ?&lt;br /&gt;Sus: D wants to sit at home and catch a movie on the tube, play some cards and have a couple of drinks and eat Raj's preparation.&lt;br /&gt;Ab: WTF !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ????????????? %^&amp;*(*^&amp;*()(*&amp;^%$%^&amp;*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-4573853943706043624?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/4573853943706043624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=4573853943706043624' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/4573853943706043624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/4573853943706043624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2010/08/how-not-to-spend-weekend.html' title='What not to do on a Friday'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-4558029650256001860</id><published>2010-08-17T21:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T21:06:57.714-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The messed up life of an engineer</title><content type='html'>Is it just me or is it the common consensus that the Sofware engineer is the most misunderstood living creature after the Lycosa Tarantulas ? After 6 years, I should probably be getting used to those sympathetic but insensitive glances, that one usually reserves for the sacrificial goat about to meet it's "divine" end on Eid. To be honest, I never felt awkward with them, but it's the lack of understanding that kills me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to put myself in the shoes of a layman and think from his perspective. To him, a sw engineer's life is all about staring at the dimly lit screen(which often carries on till unearthly hours), trying to come up with innovative thoughts to fix issues and to back stab others during appraisal time. Part of the blame should definitely goto films, where a completely insensitive version of an engineer is presented out to the public. He is always portrayed as the "America returned Maappilai' who is supposed to get married to the heroine. She of course, is deeply in love with the hero, who by the way, is that ragged, unshaven scumbag whose only job is to pick ticks from his hair. Minutes before the credits roll, the hero makes a clean shaven appearance and snatches the bride under the eyes of her relatives, mouths a couple of punch dialogues and earns the applause of the audience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How could they be so insensitive to us ?&lt;br /&gt;Have you spared a thought for that unlucky "Groom to be', who had&lt;br /&gt;1. Fought with his manager for his 3 weeks of vacation, in order to get married&lt;br /&gt;2. trained his backup for weeks to make sure that he is productive during those 3 weeks&lt;br /&gt;3. created extensive documents to ensure that his backup will never have an issue&lt;br /&gt;4. spent all his salary on procuring those gifts for the entire household, including that lovely diamond pendant for the heroine, who later elopes with the hero in front of his own eyes ??? The least said about the time spent in the women's section of Macy's, the better(Yech !!!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The average SW engineer never earns the respect of the common man. He is always the soft target for those devious, hawk eyed auto drivers who easily hoodwink him on some or the other pretext. No sane girl(apart from those cursed to work along with him) would ever want to spend quality time with him. The bus conductors derive immense pleasures when the engineer mouths the name of an "incomprehensible" destination(We usually work in some god forsaken part of the country and have absolutely no clue about the dialect spoken by the locals). It is one of the greatest mysteries of modern times that how the well mannered, polite &amp; responsible Engineer always ends up being the least liked in the society.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-4558029650256001860?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/4558029650256001860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=4558029650256001860' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/4558029650256001860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/4558029650256001860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2010/08/messed-up-life-of-engineer.html' title='The messed up life of an engineer'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-2651330204879567539</id><published>2010-02-11T16:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T18:05:19.042-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Thunder, down under !!!</title><content type='html'>Compelled to write this blog, due to some unforeseen circumstances. We 4(A-Mat, B-Mat, Kris and I) decided to move to a townhouse some months before. Getting a townhouse in US is not just difficult, it threatens to blow your expenses for the month, sky high. However, the thought of getting some much needed privacy and spending some quality time with yourself, meant that this 3 storey beauty became ours in a short span of time. I guess, the thought of not having to stare at each other's dumb faces day in and day out, was a relishing prospect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, however, the privacy of my bedroom was invaded by the rootcause of this blog. My friend from college, moved over to hartford on a Friday and grace our place with his august presence. A unanimous decision was taken to shelter this 6 foot giant in the confines of my den. Being the only person to remain out late on a Friday night, meant that I lost my chance to vote, which made the election a farce in my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 foot tall, a huge belly and 200 pounds of puppy fat is indeed bad news. Why ?? Because such a creature is sure to create a ruckus in his sleep, by snoring away to glory. One look at his innocent and smiling face and I got the picture. One where I would be tossing and turning on my bed, trying to catch some sleep amidst the ear shattering battle cries from his bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit something. Snoring is not something that is new to me coz I would be too modest if I say that I snore a bit. But the best thing about my snoring is that I don't have to hear it. :-), hehe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am, sitting on my bed and willing myself to sleep amidst the thunder down under my bed, where a gentle giant is threatening to shake the very foundations with his roars. Have resorted to googling for tips to get sleep. My search criterias include - " How to snooze during an Air raid ?? ", "Sleeping amidst mortar shelling" etc..&lt;br /&gt;Ps: I had to abandon the search after around 15 mins. Most of the search results culminated with suggestive remarks on wiping out the "rootcause of the issue" with a concoction of cyanide or rat poison, depending on whichever is nearest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-2651330204879567539?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/2651330204879567539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=2651330204879567539' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/2651330204879567539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/2651330204879567539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2010/02/thunder-down-under.html' title='The Thunder, down under !!!'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-1213412884204412874</id><published>2009-12-07T18:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T18:36:38.099-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why don't you ever learn ?</title><content type='html'>What hurts more than pain ? That sinking feeling in your heart, when you know you are going down, without slightest trace of a fight. The feeling that you are about to lose everything dear to you and yet, you just stand still, with that look of utter helplessness..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You never like to be brought down to your knees but when words knock you over like a sledgehammer, its like your mind almost willed yourself to crumble down and seek solace in pits of despair. You are ashamed to face yourself and even look in the mirror, lest you see the face of a loser. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life loses it's meaning, nature loses it's splendour..seasons come and go, the sights and sounds change. Your mind, numb by the pain, just refuses to come out of the trance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, that's just not me..I got balls and would have poured myself a Jameson and would have moved on with my life...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-1213412884204412874?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/1213412884204412874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=1213412884204412874' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/1213412884204412874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/1213412884204412874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2009/12/why-dont-you-ever-learn.html' title='Why don&apos;t you ever learn ?'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-7168818899189738734</id><published>2009-05-19T13:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T10:05:11.372-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another mercenary bites the dust</title><content type='html'>At the outset, let me make this clear. I am not a Tamilian/LTTE sympathiser nor am I someone who feels that violence is the right way to find a solution. Just an ordinary techie, who prefers his scotch with a couple of ice cubes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, after 30 years of what has been Asia's biggest war, the Sri Lankan army managed to wipe out one of the most organised terrorist groups in the world.The Media has celebrated the defeat of the LTTE with all the exuberance of a 5 year old kid, flashing his latest toy in front of other toddlers. The crude pics of the bodies of the rebel leaders, were flashed across all major news channels and for a while, the biggest event in the Indian democracy was overshadowed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Independence should be celebrated but showing disrespect to the dead leaves a bitter taste in you. We have moved on from the transylvanian era where impaling the heads of prisoners on stakes, was a part of the post victory celebrations. Post modern era and it seems that we do retain the same cold blooded streak within us. By publicly humiliating the dead and with media hellbent on satisfying the appetite of the common viewer, aren't we sowing the seeds for another Prabhakaran to rise again ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Petty politics has played a major role throughout the years leading to the formation of this dreaded organisation. The roots of the differences between the tamils and the sinhalese could be traced back to the Donoughmore commissions divide and rule policy for elections into the Legislative council, back in 1930's. Strikes a bell, doesn't it..Lord Curzon's partition of Bengal, anyone ??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The roots had already been sown, in the British era. Post independence of the island nation and the Sinhalese leaders, inorder to satisfy their vote banks, brought about a number of policies that discriminated against the minority tamils. Years of injustice meted out to the tamils, humiliation, poverty and lack of education served as a perfect catalyst for the rise of an embittered leader amongst them. A ruthless mercenary surrounded by his ever faithful renegades, sought to put an end to years of oppression by taking the fight to the enemy. He brought about a defacto government within Jaffna, complete with a Judicial system, a police force and a highly trained army. After years of discrimination, it is natural that the tamils would have seen a saviour in Prabhakaran who stood up for their causes. Unlike leaders worldwide who changed ideologies like changing one's undergarments, here was a man who requested his fellow soldiers to shoot him dead, if he ever faltered from the cause for which the LTTE stood for - A separate tamil state.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What more could you ask ? Trust me, if I ever was a tamilian in Lanka who had suffered in silence for years, I would have been tempted to join the organisation.However, no amount of political ideology could glorify the misdeeds that LTTE would commit , over the years to come. Recruiting child soldiers, creating the Black tigers wing(suicide bombers) and the assassination of various political leaders. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ShM7SdQ3i9I/AAAAAAAADWw/0tTuJymZA38/s1600-h/child-soldiers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ShM7SdQ3i9I/AAAAAAAADWw/0tTuJymZA38/s320/child-soldiers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337675171643231186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be safe to say that India has been instrumental in the growth of LTTE. Pro LTTE sympathisers are abundant in India for decades. Vocal supporters of LTTE include Tamil leaders like Vaiko, (who was seen in a snap wearing LTTE uniform and target practising with Prabhakaran), Nedumaran, Karunanidhi have all played crucial roles over years in the growth of LTTE. Until just a few weeks ago, the same leaders were highlighting the cause of the tamils, as part of their election campaigns. After Vaiko's defeat, it is evident that the common tamilian has more issues in his daily life than caring for what happens to his brothers in a different country. Now that LTTE has been wiped out, I don't see any of these so called "sympathisers" opening their mouth in support. I just despise such two faced hypocrites, who steer their courses according to the direction of the wind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Isn't it the greatest irony that the leaders who stood unwavering to their causes, have always been on the wrong side of the law ?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now what ? I sincerely hope Rajapakse and his successors don't repeat the mistakes of their forefathers and sought to end the discriminatory policies and bring about peace in the island nation. Politics and politicians in India will not change and it is up to us to ...what the hell..You and I are still gonna stick to our "I don't care a crap" attitude, after minutes of reading this. forget it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, spare a thought for the homeless, the displaced, the hungry, the poor and the injured, who have fled from their homelands. If you don't make a monetary contribution, at least pray for a minute for their well being. I sincerely hope, that no child has to ever hold a gun in his/her hands..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking the liberty to pen a few lines from the lyrics of a beautiful song from a Rehman composition..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;vidai kodu engal naade &lt;br /&gt;kadal vaasal thelikkum veede &lt;br /&gt;panai mara kaadae, paravaigal koode &lt;br /&gt;marumurai oru murai paarpoma? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ShM8u9WdgdI/AAAAAAAADXA/fhuX7fgg33c/s1600-h/Srilanka%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ShM8u9WdgdI/AAAAAAAADXA/fhuX7fgg33c/s320/Srilanka%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337676760804590034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;udhattil punnagai pudhaithom &lt;br /&gt;uyirai udambukkuL pudhaithom &lt;br /&gt;verum koodugaL mattum oorvalam pogindrom &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;vidai kodu...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-7168818899189738734?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/7168818899189738734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=7168818899189738734' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7168818899189738734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7168818899189738734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2009/05/another-mercenary-bites-dust.html' title='Another mercenary bites the dust'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ShM7SdQ3i9I/AAAAAAAADWw/0tTuJymZA38/s72-c/child-soldiers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-1717913525270782899</id><published>2009-04-07T07:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T08:15:03.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Lal Fan's movie review !!!</title><content type='html'>Disclaimer:&lt;br /&gt;1. If malayalam is not your cup of tea, you probably might have a lot of better options to spend time, than reading this article.&lt;br /&gt;2. This was not penned by me(Shucks !! This is miles better than what I could churn out). Seems to be written by some aggrieved Lal fan who probably was software engg, in production support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kazhinja aaychayile etho oru paathirathriyil urangaan aayi kannadachappol aanu "Sathyam theatre il sathyamayittum SAGAR ALIAS JACKY" ennu roomie Tom paranjathu. Chennai yil release cheyyunna malayalam padangal prolthsahikkanam ennu aagraham ollathinaal, innini ticket book cheythittu mathi urakkam ennu vicharichu book cheythu, pani okke ini monday cheyyam chetta ennu officil paranja, maryadhakku bhakshanam polum kazhikkathe theatreil chennu ninna enikku ithu thanne venam.&lt;br /&gt;Nanni Laletta, Nanni..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amal Neerad BIG B kku shesham Lalettane muscle pidipichu close shottsilum slow motionilum mathramayi chithrikaricha aadhya malayalam padam - SAGAR ALIAS JACKY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SN Swami aanu thirakkadha. Athum mattoru albhudham aanu. Kadha illathe thirakkadha ezhuthuka , nissaramaya oru karyam alla. Laalettan thekkum vadakkum pokunnathum, vazhiyil kandumuttunna sundarimarudeyum, sundaranmaaraya villain marudeyum vila koodiya vandikaludeyum kadha aanu SAGAR ALIAS JACKY. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enikku thonunnathu chithrikaranathinte chilavu kurakkan aayi, Laalettane Keralathil ninnum dubai yilekku nadathi aanu kondupoyathu ennanu(chila aanakale nadathi kondu pokunnathu pole). Oppam nadappu pala anglil oppiyeduthu vetti murichu, puttinu peera idunnathu pole avide ivide angottu vidhari.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manoharamayi ottere anglukalil ninnu Amal Neerad oru karyam prove cheythu. ethu angle inu nokkiyalum Mohanlal inte kudavayar thanne munnil.Ithonnum poranjittu malayala cinema ithu vare kaanatha oru nrithya roopam avatharipikkanayi kalyaanam kazhinjittu abhinayam nirthi poyi thirichu vanna Jyothirmayee ye thanne thiranju pidichathu oru onnonnara casting aayi poyi(Kalyanam kazhinjittu aa kutty kku enthu patti, valla badhayum keyariyo ??)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laalettante pazhaye naayika Shobhana madangi ethiyathu, oru kutty yude ammayayittanu. But Laalettan ippozhum bachelor thanne. Padayappa enna chithrathil shirt oori Somalian kuttikale pole nilkkunna Rajnikanth ine nokki Abbas kaachunathu "Wow !! What a man" ennanu. Ithu paranju kore thamizhanmaare kali aakiyathinte paapam aanu ennu thoninnu, "Six packukalude" kaalathu "School Bagum" thookki nilkkunna vayasan Laalettanodu ishtam aanu ennu parayunna bhavanaye kandappol kannuneerayi purathu vannathu. Ithonnum porathathinu, oru pattum. Laalettan munnil, Bhavana pinnil, ennittu Laalettan aakunna malaye chutti Bhavana yude oru premam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Small letter kandaal pacha vara idunna Microsoft word ine pole paavam villain eppol Laalettane kandaalum IVANE NJAAN POKACHU KALAYUM ennu paranju thokkum pidichondu vannu, athu erinju kalanju idi medichu koottum. Ee thokkum thookikondu vannu, pinne athu erinju kalanju idi medichu koottunathinte logic enthanu ??? Socialism aano ??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Njangalodu kshemikkane SN Swami, Amal Neerad, Laaletta, Anthony Perumbavoor saarummare..Ingane aayal malayala cinemayude vyaaja CD illaandavan adhikam samayam edukilla. Malayala cinema kaanan aalondavathe aakumpol, CD medikkan aaru varum ? Pakshe enthokke paranjalum, ee titlum, chela scenukalum okke manoharam aayirinnu.. Pakshe, ee slow motion inokke oru paruthi ille ??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chithrathe kurichu otta vachakathil - STYLISH AND BORING chithram.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ithonnum kondu njaan padikkan pokunnilla. CASANOVAyum, HARIHAR NAGAR um okke kaanan aadhyam thanne kaanum. Athenkilum nannavumayirikkum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Theatril kettathu - Laalettan fans inte sangha gaanam - MAMMOOTTY CAN'T DANCE, SAALA !!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-1717913525270782899?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/1717913525270782899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=1717913525270782899' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/1717913525270782899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/1717913525270782899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2009/04/lal-fans-movie-review.html' title='A Lal Fan&apos;s movie review !!!'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-279695571981001660</id><published>2009-03-30T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T10:59:39.567-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The tale of Jekyll and Hyde</title><content type='html'>Those frequent get-togethers I have with my "koothara" friends, ensure that there is no dearth of those crazy stories, from sojourn at Chennai. Taking time out to pen a few..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2004 - Chennai was the place where I met all these guys, during the course of our ELT training for Cognizant. This one was about two "loving" roomies - Basheer and Akku(names changed). Fate, along with circumstances, ensured that these extreme characters, had to share a common roof, during the course of the training at cognizant. Basheer was a staunch Muslim, who tried to incorporate almost each and every line of the holy Quran, into his life. As per the narrator, he had a long beard, prayed 5 times a day and kept away from all mundane pleasures in life.That included the basic necessities of bachelor life - Films, Liquor and girls(Ogling, mind it !!!!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That he got such a dynamically opposite roomie in Akku, was the biggest irony. Akku had the reputation of having drunk from at least one bar, in each of the 14 districts in Kerala. A chain smoker, he was a compulsive flirt who changed girlfriends every season. The difference in character, was evident in their respective rooms, as well. Basheerkka's room was the epitome of cleanliness, with each and every corner tidy and not an object out of it's place. If there was speck of dirt, one assumed that it would have blown over from Akku's room. Akku's room looked similar to those pics of devastation that one saw on the net, after Louisiana was hit by Katrina. Amidst the chaos, one could see a path that lead from the bed to the bathroom, that was flanked on both sides by undergarments. Akku shared the room, along with a host of other creatures like bed bugs, roaches, lizards, spiders and what not. A perfect example of "cultural Integration" of the third kind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amongst Akku's fave activities, was pulling Basheerkka's long beard(pretending to unearth an imaginary spider from those locks) and taunting his religious belief's. Akku was lucky that Quran contained a line that encouraged it's followers to love all fellow beings, including their enemies. I am assuming so, accounting to the fact that Akku is still alive. Basheerkka put up with every action of Akku, with a tired smile, the signs of a man with infinite patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now to the story. Chennai 2005 was famous for it's huge downpour during monsoon and the resulting flood like situation. For 2-3 days, most of the shops were closed and people were confined to their homes. IT folks were the worst hit, as most of them were put up in low lying areas near the IT corridor, which were worst hit. One had to wade thru almost 4 feet of drain to reach the bus stop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/SdE1kziMAaI/AAAAAAAADJI/svmabaHNaW8/s1600-h/Basin_Bridge%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/SdE1kziMAaI/AAAAAAAADJI/svmabaHNaW8/s320/Basin_Bridge%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319091541326430626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that particular Friday, offices were all closed, due to the flood like situation. Most of the shops were closed, and it was almost impossible to get food from outside. Akku was amongst the lucky few, who managed to get a few slices of bread, from a friend of his. The good Samaritan in him, usually makes very infrequent appearances. And(as luck would have it), it chose to make an entry, as he was wading thru those waters, to reach home. He envisioned a tired and starved Basheerkka, who surely would not have had a morsel of food since last night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus, at 12.30 in the afternoon, Akku started his journey, trudging thru waist deep water filled with garbage, in search of some food for his dear roomie. The thought that this deed would act as some sort of penance for all the trouble he had caused to his roomie, would have egged him on. The quest that started from PTC quarters, ended eventually, at the Adayar bus stand, a rough distance of around 5 kms.Akku managed to locate a roadside biriyani eatery, whose owner was just about to close the shop, as he had managed to sell off his stock to the needy. After much pleading &amp; cajoling, Akku managed to get a packet of biriyani from the owner, for double the price. Seems that the owner had reserved the food for a special customer of his. Akku again started his journey back and this time, got a lift back home from Thiruvanmiyur. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At around 4 in the evening, a weary Akku burst into Basheerkka's house, sporting the sort of victorious smile that Odysseus would have flashed, after the victory over Troy. Clutching the food packet in his hand, he limped over to Basheerkka's bed, sat down beside him and with moist eyes, opened the packet. His eyes then frantically searched for any emotions on Basheerkka's face, hoping to find some form of acknowledgement/gratitude. &lt;br /&gt;Basheerkka stroked his beard in deep thought, peered at Akku from behind his glasses and shot the question - " Any idea if they used Halal meat in the biriyani" ???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say that Akku threw both - the Biriyani and Basheerkka , out of the house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-279695571981001660?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/279695571981001660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=279695571981001660' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/279695571981001660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/279695571981001660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2009/03/tale-of-jekyll-and-hyde.html' title='The tale of Jekyll and Hyde'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/SdE1kziMAaI/AAAAAAAADJI/svmabaHNaW8/s72-c/Basin_Bridge%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-1042340508666354264</id><published>2008-12-12T14:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T07:02:19.083-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hibernation and my first Tag</title><content type='html'>Unlike those cold blooded creatures, I was hibernating(atleast in terms of blogging) during summer. Come winter and with the freezing cold outside, I daresay I would be doodling more. Fee fo fum..Before I start eating those lovely dishes, let me pen down the details..Here goes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last movie seen in a theatre?&lt;br /&gt;Twilight. Missed to put RNBDJ by 24 hours..Twilight was pretty good though..ie, if you can buy the idea of a vampire romancing. The girl was too cute..Hmm, 7/10 would be my score for Twilight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What book are you reading ?&lt;br /&gt;Silence of the Lambs. Got it cheap at a Tag sale and started on it. The movie was pretty kewl and loved the "punch" dialogue, when a particularly mean looking Hopkins delivers a spine chilling remark " I do wish we could chat longer but I am having an old friend for dinner".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favourite board game:&lt;br /&gt;Chess. I can sleep for hours if I catch sight of those black and white squares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favourite magazine:&lt;br /&gt;Week, Outlook, India Today. Tinkle(When I was a Kid), Chandaamama(Just loved it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favourite Smells:&lt;br /&gt;smell of Petrol,smell of earth after the first rain, smell of ginger and garlic crackling on hot oil, smell that babies have -fresh after a bath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favourite Sound:&lt;br /&gt;Sound of ball hitting the middle of the bat(Only if you are the batsman)&lt;br /&gt;Sound of the stumps flying off(Only if you are the bowler)&lt;br /&gt;Sound of the temple bell ringing, at my hometown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worst Feeling in the world:&lt;br /&gt;When India loses a crunch game&lt;br /&gt;When you are hurt by someone whom you like a lot&lt;br /&gt;When you are embarassed at a huge gathering of people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what is the first thing that you think of when you wake up ?&lt;br /&gt;Damn, where is my office laptop ??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favourite Fast Food place:&lt;br /&gt;Ambis thattukada, Prince/Priya hotel(Chengannur)&lt;br /&gt;Grand Hotel(Cochin)&lt;br /&gt;Ramakrishna Mess(Chennai, Thiruvanmiyur)&lt;br /&gt;Chillis(Middletown)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Future child's name:&lt;br /&gt;Not decided, Leaving it to my wife. Would love to have 2 girls though :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finish this statement, “If I had a lot of money I’d…”&lt;br /&gt;Get a fab bike, hold a big party for my friends, take my parents on a shopping spree, take my wife(if I have one at that point)on an exotic trip to a place of her choice and if there is anything left, invest the rest in real estate. Phew !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you drive fast?&lt;br /&gt;Yes. When I am late for work/movie/a place that closes at 9. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?&lt;br /&gt;Hell No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favourite drink&lt;br /&gt;Hot tea&lt;br /&gt;Chilled Beer&lt;br /&gt;Spicy Sambharam&lt;br /&gt;Whiskey, with 2 ice cubes and a dash of coke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you eat the stem of broccoli?&lt;br /&gt;No&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Storms - Cool or Scary?&lt;br /&gt;Cool, love to travel on a stormy night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you could dye your hair any color, what would be your choice?&lt;br /&gt;Green..Go green !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Name all the different cities/towns you have lived in:(Where lived in &gt; 30 days)&lt;br /&gt;Cochin/Adoor/Chengannur/Kozhikkode - Kerala&lt;br /&gt;Mumbai - Maharashtra&lt;br /&gt;CBE/Chennai/Tiruput/Tuticorin - TN&lt;br /&gt;Middletown - US&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favorite sports to watch:&lt;br /&gt;Cricket, Soccer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One nice thing about the person who sent this to you:&lt;br /&gt;Cool, shares the same frequency, speaks his mind, keeps his word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What’s under your bed?&lt;br /&gt;I sleep on the floor ..buhaa haa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you like to be born as yourself again?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, if to the same parents and if I have the same group of friends. Am I asking for a lot ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morning person or night owl?&lt;br /&gt;Was a morning person during college days, now a night owl with those offshore calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over easy or sunny side up?&lt;br /&gt;Over easy, please&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favorite place to relax:&lt;br /&gt;At my ancestral home, pulling my grandmother's legs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favourite Pie:&lt;br /&gt;Anandakrishna Pai..Hold on ! You didn't mean...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Favorite ice cream flavor:&lt;br /&gt;I am one of a few who will go to Baskin Robbins and order a milkshake. I hate icecreams. My granny who adores icecreams, finds that hard to digest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You pass this tag to:&lt;br /&gt;Rijo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of all the people you tagged this to, who’s most likely to respond first?&lt;br /&gt;Rijo - coz he is in the next room.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-1042340508666354264?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/1042340508666354264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=1042340508666354264' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/1042340508666354264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/1042340508666354264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2008/12/hibernation-and-my-first-tag.html' title='Hibernation and my first Tag'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-454320130987731580</id><published>2008-12-09T15:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T21:10:58.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love you..And you..And you !!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST8C52sM15I/AAAAAAAADAs/TD46spxmG-s/s1600-h/sign.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST8C52sM15I/AAAAAAAADAs/TD46spxmG-s/s320/sign.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277940481258215314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A series of memories that were initiated on a particularly cold evening, triggered by a hot tea, prompted me to blog again. I was doing a little jig on the patio, cup in hand, trying to keep myself warm, when my mind decided to distract me from the cold by tuning onto some old memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turning the clock 9 years back, brought me to BVM Elamakkara(The school of cricket in Kerala, where players like Tinu Yohanan and Sreesanth have done their schooling). BVM had a tradition of maintaining a high standard interms of quality education and the teachers were hell bent on ensuring this, by putting our noses to the grinding stone. However the 5'5" kid who answered to the calls for Roll: 3, did have certain distractions, that made sure that his schooling days weren't that dreary. The first of my series of crushes was a classmate of mine. By the way, all of them in the cupid's series, went the same way as the sign board at the Press Club Road in Cochin -&gt; ONE WAY !!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 16 year old in me was instantly attracted to this goodlooking girl in the fourth row of the class. Naming her G1. A relief to my wandering mind, which could now focus on this welcome distraction, rather than paying attention to the complex equations on the blackboard. My trances were frequently interrupted by those missiles(usually chalks, on certain occassions dusters too came forward to kiss my forehead) projected on an elliptical path by the teachers. More often than not, the teacher would ask me to point out to the section on the board, where she had last written. By the time, I reached North-west after starting from the south of the board, the whole class would be off in peals. I felt really happy to seeing her pretty smile and decided to do this more often. I started paying more attention to the details on the blackboard, after I learnt that a 6 footer who frequented the gym, had already set his eyes on G1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cupid sent another of his arrows and this time around, it pointed me to another member of the opposite sex(Codenamed -&gt; G2), in the next division. This probably explains why my grades showed a steep incline and reduced the number of missiles projected in my direction. A friend of mine, to whom I confided the name, told me that the best way to become friends with G2 was to strike up a conversation with G2's best friend. The best friend would then sing my praises in front of G2 and lo and behold, Game on !!!. Trusting the so called Mr. Know it all's words(He considered himself to be bit of an authority, on all topics, that started and ended with girls), I found myself striking a conversation with Miss. Best Friend. Regular chit chatting at the doorways, canteens and the labs set the tongues wagging. However, I did manage to achieve the objective of this initiative. The long haired G2 started giving me appreciative glances and smiles and it lead me to treat Mr. Know it All at one of the cities best Bakeries. This tryst would not last too long. G2 started referring to me as Miss. Best Friend's admirer in front of her friends. It broke my heart. Mr. Know it All wasn't able to participate in that year's school culturals because of his black eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third and the final one of Cupid's arrows stuck me a year later. It was the day the juniors were supposed to land. I had cycled all the way to the temple nearby, on the occasion of India's pool match at the world cup. I was mumbling my prayers when I saw a girl with the "centershock" hairstyle, doing the same. She just knocked me out cold on that day. Simple, elegant and with the sweetest of all smiles, she was just too wonderful. Realisation, that my mouth was wide open came, when a piece of coconut that was broken by a devotee on the nearby stone, flew into my mouth. She gave me one of her 1000 watt smile and went to the next shrine. I tailgated her for the next 5 mins, until a particularly fierce looking Uncle(Must be her dad) appeared on the horizon. As my Mom wanted me to come back home in one shape, I took flight, after reassuring myself that "Withdrawal needn't always mean defeat".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My joy knew no bounds when I caught a glimpse of her at school. Suddenly, I was volunteering for running errands, that involved going to the the classes of juniors. Spent quite some money at the hair dressers, trying to discipline the unruly clump of hair at the back of my head. Finally, the clump which looked as if it was at attention to the national anthem being played, decided to take a break. Went to a local gym nearby, trying to get all the abs and the muscles that were portrayed on the pics at the gym. Two days of torture awakened me to the fact that girls fall for sensitive guys, rather than well built ones(Does this still hold good ??)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good looking girls were rare(at least in our school) and ones that were single, were rarer still. My first competitor came in the form of a player from our basketball team.Cometh Breaks &amp; this moron would run all the way to the opposite building, to talk to her. Mr. Know it All came up with a feeble suggestion(from behind a desk) that girls dig Basketball players and football/cricket were things from the past. A very determined me, watched a couple of matches of NBA playoffs and hopped on to the basketball court during the next PT period. 15 minutes and a couple of bruises later, I went back to the football field to see if my old position had been filled. To corner her, was just about impossible. She seemed to be attached by some invisible umbilical cord to her best friend(Her friend is now a successful playback singer in Kerala) for the entire stretch of the day. If by any chance it was broken, Mr. Moron would hookup the "connection". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By some strange coincidence, I did manage to talk to her. Kendriya Vidyalaya had their culturals on a Friday and all of us at Parvathy Miss's Tuition class, decided to do a Mass bunk. We reached KV just on time, before our school's Fashion Show was about to start. Taking positions upfront, the 10 of us started the biggest chants that the event had seen. Slowly, the folks from our school, who were sitting separately, joined us at the front. Amongst them, was a very familiar face. Thanking the same God that I had cursed after India slid to a humiliating defect against Zimbabwe, I decided to do some stress testing on my voice. For the next 10 minutes, I was chanting the school slogans as though my life depended on it. I did some damage to my vocal chords, but it did serve it's purpose. She did talk to me for 5 mins and exuberantly joined the gang with the chants. Wow, I just felt so happy that day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying to fathom the thoughts of a teenager is a tough deal. It is downright complex. It is a time when none of us knew what the truth was to most of the questions around us - from how to woo girls to How does it feel like to have 3 pegs of whisky. Being ignorant to any of these questions, would make you "Uncool" and it would result in you being treated as an outcast. The truth is that none of us knew the answers to anything, at that point. When I look back at those days, I feel like laughing at some of the stuff I did back then, to either impress the girls or to showoff in front of my friends. But then, those were some of the best days in my life. Those memories, keep me going forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last words:&lt;br /&gt;1. G2 &amp; G3 are happily married and G1 is still on the Single/committed stage. &lt;br /&gt;2. Mr. Know it All seems to have missed quite a few more culturals, with black eyes, missing teeth, bruised ribs etc. One of his theories , did however work and he has moved to the "Happily Married" state. He is still available for any advices, as per the last conversation I had with him a couple of years before. Do so, at your own risk.&lt;br /&gt;3. No idea about Mr. Moron. &lt;br /&gt;4. Four paragraphs from the end, I had asked a question. Could someone(I want to get it from the girls this time around..Hell yeah, I don't trust guys) answer that for me ? &lt;br /&gt;4. My quest continues.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-454320130987731580?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/454320130987731580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=454320130987731580' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/454320130987731580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/454320130987731580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2008/12/cupid-struck-thrice.html' title='I love you..And you..And you !!!'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST8C52sM15I/AAAAAAAADAs/TD46spxmG-s/s72-c/sign.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-5805214110475930694</id><published>2008-07-20T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T18:18:04.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"IT" happend in Chennai...</title><content type='html'>After what seemed like an eternity, the train came to a screeching halt at the station...I got up from my seat and walked towards the door, jostling past the crowd that were barging in through the door...Craning my neck out, I could see the ever familiar face of Kinu trudging along towards S9, flanked by his dad. I waved to him and he responded back with the ever pleasant "Kinu-ish" smile(something that I would have to endure on a daily basis, over the next couple of years). The day was Nov 4Th, 2004 and we were on our way to Chennai, to "Celebrate Work", I mean, that's what Cognizant blares out to the world...For freshers like us, the idea of transfiguring into breadwinners from bread eaters(excuse the PJ, but what else do you call folks who love nothing better than to rest on their arses and enjoy the pleasures of life, from the confines of the couch)..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Kinu had settled down, we decided to scout the compartments to check if any fellow cognians had boarded the train..As none of us had seen each other, the plan was to walk around mumbling "CTS", "CTS"..This of course, was inspired from the flick "Akkare Akkare Akkare", where the hero and his sidekick run all over an airport in US, mouthing..Eh, hmm, now that is nother story...And to the surprise of all the passengers on the train, here were two perfectly healthy youngsters, walking around mouthing gibberish..ready made candidates for any mental asylum..Since it was masterminded by Yours truly, the plan worked to perfection...Soon, nine of us were walking around the train, chanting gibberish phrases, which always seemed to have the word "COGNIZANT" in it..I met Rejin, Sherry, Naveen, Roopesh, Anoop, Bipin and Binu for the first time that day..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, all of us, cramped together into a call taxi and made our way to Kelampakkam, where we were put up for the first 2 months of our training period...In case the reader is not familiar with the name of the place, kelampakkam is a front runner for the "most inhabitable place in Chennai"..There was a big lump in my throat, as we passed through never ending stretches of barren land...My IT dream was crumbling before my eyes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reached the hostel where our stay was arranged...actually, it was an Ashram of a Baba Chinamaya, or was it Dayananda ??? no idea, lets call him Swami Thanukkumpol Kidukidanandha !!! The best part of the whole deal was that we were put up at the same place with all the girls...In adjacent rooms...Needless to say, the guys were quite excited..We were shown the way to our dorm(the girls were just a glass door away) and amidst wild celebrations, I began unpacking my stuff...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-5805214110475930694?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/5805214110475930694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=5805214110475930694' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/5805214110475930694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/5805214110475930694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2008/07/it-happend-in-chennai.html' title='&quot;IT&quot; happend in Chennai...'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-1304450731096654577</id><published>2008-07-18T15:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T16:14:39.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hold on to your cards !!!!</title><content type='html'>Am not sure how many would agree to this statement(not that I care), but here goes...Malayalis(atleast, the ones that have a life) love to spend their friday nights downing a couple of pegs(any brand would do), a Mohanlal movie(any movie would do) and a deck of cards(any game would do)...Another mortal would have preferred to chill out at a club, watch a movie at the nearby theatre ,cozy up with a book or heck, even hit the bed early....but not us...Our idea of a dream Friday night is a bit different...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been playing cards for quite sometime...Got started with the ones like "Bluff", "Donkey', "Trump" etc...grew up with "28"(erupathi ettu in malayalam), "Rummy"..Hoping to graduate with a round of Blackjack at Vegas..Neither am I a master in the game nor do I have the money to throw a serious challenge to the competitors(we malayalis tend to brag a bit), but I would still consider this to be an achievement in my life..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why ??&lt;br /&gt;From the big round table at my ancestral home, to the dark, desolated corners of the engg college classrooms(no teacher would dare to venture anywhere near), to the lush green paddy fields near my home, I have played cards at almost each and every place...and now, lo and behold, you get a chance to play at the mother of all places, Vegas...I am just looking forward to the trip !!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My personal fave game would certainly be 28..I would like to think(and honestly, I do think it is true) that this game had it's birth at some paddy field in Kerala...Should have been started by a group of unemployed jerks, who after whiling away their time at one of those umpteen tea shops that you find at any junction in Kerala, decided to hit upon cards to do something creative...and lo and behold !!! 28 was born...Mark my words friends...this one is tough to break cause the rules are a bit crooked...The player will have to get every1 of his grey cells to action and one false move -&gt; BANG !!! your team gets the Kunukku on the ear(usually the joker card)..We used to design all sorts of complicated ones with coconut leaves back at college...truly addictive, indeed..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gotta move now..a friend is buying me dinner and I just don't want to miss that ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disclaimer:&lt;br /&gt;Attention Reader(if you are this beautiful, single girl who would be on the lookout for that someone special to drop out of the sky), don't get the impression that I have a compulsive addiction to the game..No !! I spend my time doing creative work as well...playing cricket, snoring away to glory on my bed, picking on my roomies for no reason whatsoever etc are my idea of spending quality time..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-1304450731096654577?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/1304450731096654577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=1304450731096654577' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/1304450731096654577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/1304450731096654577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2008/07/hold-on-to-your-cards.html' title='Hold on to your cards !!!!'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-7856875900234308401</id><published>2008-02-10T10:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T10:59:55.938-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple rules in Life</title><content type='html'>Linju sent this one to me a day or two back....tght of putting this up over here...Incase I forget these @ a later point&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a firm handshake.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Look people in the eye.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Sing in the shower.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Own a great stereo system.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;If in a fight, hit first and hit hard.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Keep secrets.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Never give up on anybody.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Miracles happen everyday.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Always accept an outstretched hand.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Be brave. Even if you're not, pretend to be. No one can tell the difference.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Avoid sarcastic remarks.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Choose your life's mate carefully.&lt;br /&gt;From this one decision will come 90 per cent of all your happiness or misery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Make it a habit to do nice things for people who will never find out.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Lend only those books you never care to see again.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Never deprive someone of hope; it might be all that they have.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;When playing games with children, let them win.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Give people a second chance, but not a third.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Be romantic.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Become the most positive and enthusiastic person you know.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Loosen up. Relax.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Except for rare life-and-death matters, nothing is as important as it first seems.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Don't allow the phone to interrupt important moments.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It's there for your convenience, not the caller's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be a good loser.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Be a good winner.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Think twice before burdening a friend with a secret.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;When someone hugs you, let them be the first to let go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep it simple.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Be modest. A lot was accomplished before you were born.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Beware of the person who has nothing to lose.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Don't burn bridges. You'll be surprised how many times you have to cross the same river.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Live your life so that your epitaph could read, No Regrets&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Be bold and courageous.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;When you look back on life, you'll regret the things you didn't do more than the one's you did.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Never waste an opportunity to tell someone you love them.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Remember no one makes it alone.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Have a grateful heart and be quick to acknowledge those who helped you.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Take charge of your attitude. Don't let someone else choose it for you.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Visit friends and relatives when they are in hospital; you need only stay a few minutes.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Begin each day with some of your favorite music.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Once in a while, take the scenic route.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Send a lot of Valentine cards. Sign them, 'Someone who thinks you're terrific.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Answer the phone with enthusiasm and energy in your voice.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Keep a note pad and pencil on your bed-side table, Million-dollar ideas sometimes strike at 3 a.m.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Show respect for everyone who works for a living, regardless of how trivial their job.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Send your loved ones flowers. Think of a reason later.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Make someone's day by paying the toll for the person in the car behind you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Become someone's hero.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Marry only for love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Count your blessings.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Compliment the meal when you're a guest in someone's home.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Wave at the children on a school bus.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Remember that 80 per cent of the success in any job is based on our ability to deal with people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't expect life to be fair.&lt;br /&gt;Keep smiling and be happy every day.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Never worry for anything, as worries make life more painful.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;If u worry also, they are going to reduce. So think and act accordingly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-7856875900234308401?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/7856875900234308401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=7856875900234308401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7856875900234308401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7856875900234308401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2008/02/simple-rules-in-life.html' title='Simple rules in Life'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-7975321474037341770</id><published>2007-12-13T15:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T16:46:22.765-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Shanti Home !!!!</title><content type='html'>Penning these lines, after a thoroughly frustrating day.As an afterthought, an eventful one as well. Let me walk you through the sequence of events...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday Morning:&lt;br /&gt;The digital clock next to my bed flashed 8:25. An internal trigger goes on and my hand creeps from under the warmth of the comforter. It's destination, the 'ON" button of my laptop. Was wondering what innovative reason my offshore had, to not do the work...My eyes skimmed thru the mails...It stopped on mail titled "HELLO"...hmmm...interesting...a personal mail..I started reading the contents..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old colleague of mine was coming to onsite and she didn't know any1 over here...accommodation was a problem and she wanted my help in getting something arranged...The good Samaritan in me compelled me to nod my approval..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday afternoon:&lt;br /&gt;came back from office...It was snowing heavily and a red alert was issued throughout CT...Had nothing better to do &amp; hence, organized a snow fight with my roomies. Needless to say, my ego got a pounding..Got drubbed,swallowed quite a few snowballs and at last, begged for mercy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in front of my lappie...Needed to get a place for the girl...rounded up the few female friends I had and started calling them...All attempts lead to a dead end...Most of the female folks over here were veggies &amp; they did have problems accommodating some1 outside their group. I was in a big fix. There were just 72 hours to go, before the subject landed on US soil and the stay was not yet arranged...Had it been a guy, I could have pulled him up to our room. This was a different case..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I vividly remember the cold morning of Nov 20th, one year ago, when a younger me had landed on US shore..Though helpless and dazed, I never had to undergo any hardships, as I had my friends to fall back upon. I will forever be indebted to them for this. I had promised myself to "Pass it On" to whoever came new...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is 7:35 in the evening and I still haven't got something for her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-7975321474037341770?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/7975321474037341770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=7975321474037341770' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7975321474037341770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7975321474037341770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/12/home-shanti-home.html' title='Home Shanti Home !!!!'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-3599050515007973882</id><published>2007-09-23T20:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-23T20:43:37.545-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lal and Lal only !!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RvcyMn_r7DI/AAAAAAAAAX4/CdnDNc6XfDM/s1600-h/ATgAAADfH5uxlQYhv4H18kP-Co0CI_ifcAclu84Hfr4xP-cjtEddBEwubTtB6glZbRcWmSY8pfjUFmAy0dk3JN0YVydvAJtU9VD-76zDUsvzzMV-deKIZKlxzEcQjg%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; 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cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RvcxU3_r65I/AAAAAAAAAWo/2t6rmBdxKXk/s320/ATgAAAADq2mOVO634CsGiIIhwnzvh6-ZRY-APtJA8ziqJ6hpTVCAqCcsHcpR4fBIYS7RH0jQxJ1GlmtcH_GKsSeDmM6DAJtU9VAKcxQ1xtLLMZyJdTL3eLcU9JAyBw%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113610136600701842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-3599050515007973882?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/3599050515007973882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=3599050515007973882' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/3599050515007973882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/3599050515007973882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/09/lal-and-lal-only.html' title='Lal and Lal only !!!!!'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RvcyMn_r7DI/AAAAAAAAAX4/CdnDNc6XfDM/s72-c/ATgAAADfH5uxlQYhv4H18kP-Co0CI_ifcAclu84Hfr4xP-cjtEddBEwubTtB6glZbRcWmSY8pfjUFmAy0dk3JN0YVydvAJtU9VD-76zDUsvzzMV-deKIZKlxzEcQjg%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-5104738101590524349</id><published>2007-09-21T18:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T18:40:56.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The best of the best !!!!</title><content type='html'>One good article which came in rediff some time before...By Mahesh Balagangadhar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kamal Haasan and Mohanlal. How would pitting one against the other sound? It would be very interesting, though daunting, to compare and contrast their styles, I thought. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a Keralite and have grown up in Chennai, and feel fortunate to have watched these two gifted artistes perform in the prime of their careers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kamal and Mohanlal (along with Om Puri and Naseeruddin Shah) might be among the most repeated names that serious movie watchers, fellow artistes and critics would pick in their individual Top 10 list of the greatest actors of all time in Indian cinema. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, there are distinct differences in their style of acting. Kamal is probably the closest you could get in the search for a complete actor. His filmography and its content could serve as the best available acting encyclopaedia for any aspiring actor. Very methodical, he seems to have understood and mastered the finer points of acting. Never short on histrionics, he revels in strong, complex roles and, at times, has pushed the boundaries of these roles beyond what the writer or director probably had in mind.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mohanlal is an actor who might be the most difficult to imitate. For most who don't understand Malayalam or the Kerala milieu, it is even more difficult to admire him. An extremely natural actor, the nuances of his acting skills are at most times so subtle as to seem very bland. Preferring the art of restraint, probably the most under appreciated quality in Indian cinema, he tries hard his to be just another character onscreen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sense of effortlessness he has displayed while portraying the range of memorable roles in his career has often transgressed the defined boundaries of great acting. But these aberrations have only lent these roles identities that are closer to real life, besides going beyond the realm of reel life they were originally created for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking at the milestones in their careers, a discerning eye could notice a thread of difference. Here is a discussion on the movies that both bagged three National Awards each.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kamal -- Moondram Pirai, Nayagan and Indian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mohanlal -- Kireedam*, Bharatham and Vaanaprastham.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(*Kireedam won Mohanlal a Special Jury National Award for Best Actor)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The above movies of Kamal were ones in which he had very strong, author-backed roles. In Moondram Pirai, a youngster's life is touched when he interacts with someone who alternates, through the movie, between normalcy and insanity. In Nayagan, he had a dream role, a fictionalised epic version of a real life underworld don. In Indian, he played a 60-plus year old idealistic ex-freedom fighter who decides to take the law in his hands to clean up society. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These were well-written, unique roles that, from their conception, needed an actor like Kamal to do justice to. He elevated these strong author-backed roles into the realm of acting utopia. There was near perfection and acting grandeur in them. In several scenes, Kamal, the actor, took over. The viewers' sense of admiration was more for the actor than for the complexity of the character being portrayed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mohanlal's award-winning roles were not ready recipes for instant success and acclaim. Be it the unemployed youth trying to fulfill his father's dream of becoming a policeman in Kireedam, or the younger brother in Bharatham having to deal with the death of his elder brother with a musical rivalry in the backdrop. Or the struggling Kathakali artiste in Vaanaprastham. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He raised these ordinary roles to great heights single-handedly, never succumbing to self-indulgence. He almost underplayed each of these roles. Mohanlal engrossed the viewers so deep that one could almost identify with the pain of these characters. Very few actors and leading men in Indian cinema can lay claim to possess this rare acting attribute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two similar, very powerful, scenes in Nayagan and Bharatham highlight their distinct approaches to acting: Kamal first looks at his son's dead body and then lets out a series of gut wrenching cries. Mohanlal identifies a badly mutilated corpse as that of his elder brother at the police station. What follows is a mute cry followed by a subdued trickle of tears and a look of utter helplessness and disbelief in his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two very distinct ways of expressing sorrow onscreen. Yet, they arouse the same intensity. But there is a difference in the way you react to the two. When Kamal cries in Nayagan, his expressions are so powerful that you find yourself admiring his acting prowess. When Mohanlal cries in Bharatham, the poignancy he creates hits you the most, not the intensity or the subtlety of his acting. You relate to what his character might be going through. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be a watershed in Indian cinema if the two ever decide to come together onscreen. If that happens, I am sure I will be too besotted with them to compare the nuances of their craft. It would just be movie nirvana!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-5104738101590524349?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/5104738101590524349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=5104738101590524349' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/5104738101590524349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/5104738101590524349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/09/best-of-best.html' title='The best of the best !!!!'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-7321541036823992989</id><published>2007-08-07T15:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-07T20:43:39.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The LAW(less ??)</title><content type='html'>The last few days were spent,following the verdict delivered to Sanju baba, his subsequent imprisonment, the lunch/dinner menu in the jail and all other minuscule details of the longest and the biggest judicial trials in Indian history...Out of the 123 accused, close to 12 people were sentenced to death,20 were given life,15 got rigorous imprisonment but the media preferred to focus on the 6 year sentence given to Sanju...The publicity created such a furore out here, that an "AMREEKAN" fella( on seeing my long drawn face) started consoling me...My thoughts were more focused on whether i would make it to the ground in time for the match, but I didn't bother letting him know the truth...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frankly, I thought Sanju didn't deserve the sentence..Well, it's my blog and here is my opinion...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sanju has always been in trouble from day one..From his dabble with drugs,his rehab program, the rocky marriage with Richa Sharma,the unsuccessful custody battle over his daughter, imprisonment in 93', alleged links with the D company, divorce with Rhea Pillai...phew !! the list goes on...For 14 years, he was being mentally tortured by the court proceedings against him..Isn't that a punishment in itself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could be a soft person at heart and hardliners would never consider this to be a punishment, but i would never want to be in his shoes, even for a minute...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a glance at the names of the accused on the version of the chargesheet available on the net..Hmmm...There is a similarity amongst the names...A large majority were Muslims..."terrorists", "fanatics", "traitors" - there are no dearth of words that the media uses to describe them...One only has to skim through the oxford/webster to unearth the choicest of lingo's to brand them...But something is not right, here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do remember the mumbai riots in 93', the 92' Babri Masjid communal riots, the Godhra riots etc...The hindutva hardliners were as much involved in the riots as their Muslim counterparts...How many of them were sentenced ?? Is the law, sort of one sided ? why is that the Muslims are being branded as terrorists, while the same acronyms are not showered on the Hindus, who commit similar crimes ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RrkKDlyvfSI/AAAAAAAAAFU/fAs1mzQTqRM/s1600-h/gujarat_riots_20040308%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RrkKDlyvfSI/AAAAAAAAAFU/fAs1mzQTqRM/s320/gujarat_riots_20040308%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096115510147251490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a lot of Muslim friends, some of them who are very close to me..I just wonder, how they would feel, if someone suspects their intentions/questions their integrity..The infinite torture inflicted on them, those suspicious eyes scrutinizing every single movement, the discrimination, the mistrust - all in the name of religion...Is it safe to tell that the society(incl u and me) had a hand in creating the modern version of a "terrorist" ?? Shouldn't we be punished as well ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Disclaimer:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The crap written by the blogger,is a reflection of the cluttered state of affairs in his mind and was jotted(without an iota of doubt) under the influence of 1 full glass of Lassi.&lt;br /&gt;2.Yeah, I am a big fan of sanju..So what ??? &lt;br /&gt;3. I may have got my statistics all messed up..Every word that I mentioned above, could be as wrong, as a naked man on a crowded train...&lt;br /&gt;4. I am a devout Hindu, who used to go to the temple daily.But as my six hour quota of sleep was snatched away,I have resorted to mumbling a silent prayer in the morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-7321541036823992989?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/7321541036823992989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=7321541036823992989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7321541036823992989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7321541036823992989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/08/lawless.html' title='The LAW(less ??)'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RrkKDlyvfSI/AAAAAAAAAFU/fAs1mzQTqRM/s72-c/gujarat_riots_20040308%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-4858746280384403034</id><published>2007-08-01T19:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T16:42:26.936-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The mundane pleasures of life</title><content type='html'>What makes you happy ? when is it that a smile would break out on your face, sweeping away all the stress from within you and make your day ? hmmm..Now that I pen another entry, this thought makes me ponder...Hold on !! Another thought creeps up, growing every second with alarming proportion...Am I that sodden enough that I have to think about when I last had a good laugh ? Naah !!! it's just one of those days..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;back to the pleasures of life...lemme try to turn back the clock and recall some happy memories...hmmm...The earliest I could remember, was the last day of school, when we would pack up( we, bole to, the entire kerala group from our apartment in chembur) and leave for kerala...phew !! we kids used to give a harrowing time to our parents on the Jayanthi Janatha..Oh ! I still remember doing a Miandad and smacking the last ball of the match for a six...The sounds of the wild celebrations that followed still echo in my ears...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recollect the pompous strut I employed, when I stunned the world(world = Class 5Th, lisieux school) by grabbing the 1st rank..Agreed that the class topper was laid low with jaundice, but those 2 months before the next unit test had all the teachers showering their praises on me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The road side ice creams for 2rs, the candy you get for 50ps and the tonnes of "Sip ups" that had, Oh lord ! I would give anything to get back those days..The bhelpuris, the shavarmas, the pav bhajis, slurp...the pazhamporis, the bajjis and the VIP tea(the polite abbv for &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;V&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;iral &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;ttu &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;P&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;idicha)..The best time to enjoy them was to go to the road side vendors after college and munch em, and pull the legs of ur mates...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those night outs, those boozing episodes, those fights on the ground,those crushes in school, the days when we ran after the buses, phew !! so much to write and so little space...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These days are generally spent cursing the boss for the amount of work being piled on our heads...So much that, a female colleague of mine famously remarked on the lunch table, " That guy must not be satisfying his wife in bed and hence, is venting his ire on us"..boy , she must have been really frustrated to say that...needless to say, all of us shared a good laugh !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a smile on my face, when I write this, as thoughts of my impending rafting trip crops up...Boy, I am loving it !!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-4858746280384403034?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/4858746280384403034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=4858746280384403034' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/4858746280384403034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/4858746280384403034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/08/mundane-pleasures-of-life.html' title='The mundane pleasures of life'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-6026269415238764787</id><published>2007-07-23T20:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T20:59:19.182-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marriage - The funny side of it..</title><content type='html'>Was sent to me by ashwathy, an IAS aspirant when we were together at aetna Navalur...really loved this one...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandmother was pretending to be lost in prayer, but her prayer-beads &lt;br /&gt;were spinning at top speed. That meant she was either excited or upset. &lt;br /&gt;Mother put the receiver down. "Some American girl in his office, she's &lt;br /&gt;coming to stay with us for a week." She sounded as if she had a deep &lt;br /&gt;foreboding.&lt;br /&gt;Father had no such doubt. He knew the worst was to come. &lt;br /&gt;He had been matching horoscopes for a year, but my brother Vivek had &lt;br /&gt;found a million excuses for not being able to visit India , call any of the &lt;br /&gt;chosen Iyer girls, or in any other way advance father's cause.&lt;br /&gt;Father always wore four parallel lines of sacred ash on his forehead. &lt;br /&gt;Now there were eight, so deep were the furrows of worry on his forehead. I sat &lt;br /&gt;in a corner, supposedly lost in a book, but furiously text-messaging my &lt;br /&gt;brother with a vivid description of the scene before me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days later I stood outside the airport with father. He tried &lt;br /&gt;not to look directly at any American woman going past, and held up the card &lt;br /&gt;reading "Barbara". Finally a large woman stepped out, waved wildly and &lt;br /&gt;shouted "Hiiii! Mr. Aayyyezh, how ARE you?" Everyone turned and &lt;br /&gt;looked at us. Father shrank visibly before my eyes. Barbara took three long &lt;br /&gt;steps and covered father in a tight embrace. Father's jiggling out of it was &lt;br /&gt;too funny to watch. I could hear him whispering "Shiva Shiva!". She &lt;br /&gt;shouted "you must be Vijaantee?" "Yes, Vyjayanthi" I said with a smile. I &lt;br /&gt;imagined little half-Indian children calling me "Vijaantee aunty!". Suddenly, &lt;br /&gt;my colorless existence in Madurai had perked up. For at least the next &lt;br /&gt;one week, life promised to be quite exciting.&lt;br /&gt;Soon we were eating lunch at home. Barbara had changed into an even  shorter &lt;br /&gt;skirt. The low neckline of her blouse was just in line with father's eyes. &lt;br /&gt;He was glaring at mother as if she had conjured up Barbara just to torture &lt;br /&gt;him. Barbara was asking "You only have vegetarian food? Always??" as if &lt;br /&gt;the idea was shocking to her. "You know what really goes well with Indian food, &lt;br /&gt;especially chicken? Indian beer!" she said with a pleasant smile, seemingly &lt;br /&gt;oblivious to the apoplexy of the gentleman in front of her, or the choking &lt;br /&gt;sounds coming from mother. I had to quickly duck under the table to hide &lt;br /&gt;my giggles.Everyone tried to get the facts without asking the one question on &lt;br /&gt;all our minds: What was the exact nature of the relationship between Vivek &lt;br /&gt;and Barbara? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She brought out a laptop computer. "I have some pictures of Vivek" she &lt;br /&gt;said. All of us crowded around her. The first picture was quite innocuous. &lt;br /&gt;Vivek was wearing shorts and standing alone on the beach. In the next &lt;br /&gt;photo, he had Barbara draped all over him. She was wearing a skimpy bikini &lt;br /&gt;and leaning across, with her hand lovingly circling his neck. Father got&lt;br /&gt;up, and flicked the towel off his shoulder. It was a gesture we in the &lt;br /&gt;family had learned to fear. He literally ran to the door and went out. &lt;br /&gt;Barbara said "It must be hard for Mr. Aayyezh. &lt;br /&gt;He must be missing his son." We didn't have the heart to tell her that if&lt;br /&gt;said son had been within reach, father would have lovingly wrung his &lt;br /&gt;neck. &lt;br /&gt;My parents and grandmother apparently had reached an unspoken agreement.&lt;br /&gt;They would deal with Vivek later. Right now Barbara was a foreigner, a &lt;br /&gt;lone woman, and needed to be treated as an honored guest. It must be said &lt;br /&gt;that Barbara didn't make that one bit easy. Soon mother wore a perpetual &lt;br /&gt;frown.&lt;br /&gt;Father looked as though he could use some of that famous Indian beer. &lt;br /&gt;Vivek had said he would be in a conference in Guatemala all week, and would &lt;br /&gt;be off both phone and email. But Barbara had long lovey-dovey &lt;br /&gt;conversations with two other men, one man named Steve and another named Keith. The &lt;br /&gt;rest of us strained to hear every interesting word. "I miss you!" she said &lt;br /&gt;to both. She also kept talking with us about Vivek, and about the places &lt;br /&gt;they'd visited together. She had pictures to prove it, too. It was all very &lt;br /&gt;confusing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was the best play I'd watched in a long time. It was even better &lt;br /&gt;than the day my cousin ran away with a Telugu Christian girl. My aunt had &lt;br /&gt;come howling through the door, though I noticed that she made it to the &lt;br /&gt;plushest sofa before falling in a faint. Father said that if it had been his &lt;br /&gt;child, the door would have been forever shut in his face. Aunt promptly &lt;br /&gt;revived and said "You'll know when it is your child!" How my aunt would &lt;br /&gt;rejoice if she knew of Barbara! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On day five of her visit, the family awoke to the awful sound of &lt;br /&gt;Barbara's retching. The bathroom door was shut, the water was running, but far &lt;br /&gt;louder was the sound of Barbara crying and throwing up at the same time. &lt;br /&gt;Mother and grandmother exchanged ominous glances. Barbara came out and her &lt;br /&gt;face was red. "I don't know why", she said, "I feel queasy in the mornings &lt;br /&gt;now." If she had seen as many Indian movies as I'd seen, she'd know why. &lt;br /&gt;Mother was standing as if turned to stone. Was she supposed to react with &lt;br /&gt;the compassion reserved for pregnant women? With the criticism reserved &lt;br /&gt;for pregnant unmarried women? With the fear reserved for pregnant &lt;br /&gt;unmarried foreign women who could embroil one's son in a paternity suit? &lt;br /&gt;Mother, who navigated familiar flows of married life with the skill of a champion &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oarsman, now seemed completely taken off her moorings. &lt;br /&gt;She seemed to hope that if she didn't react it might all disappear &lt;br /&gt;like a bad dream. I made a mental note to not leave home at all for the next &lt;br /&gt;week.Whatever my parents would say to Vivek when they finally got a-hold &lt;br /&gt;of him would be too interesting to miss. But they never got a chance. The &lt;br /&gt;day Barbara was to leave, we got a terse email from Vivek. "Sorry, still &lt;br /&gt;stuck in Guatemala . Just wanted to mention, another friend of mine, Sameera &lt;br /&gt;Sheikh, needs a place to stay. She'll fly in from Hyderabad tomorrow &lt;br /&gt;at 10am . Sorry for the trouble." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there we were, father and I, with a board saying "Sameera". At &lt;br /&gt;last a pretty young woman in salwar-khameez saw the board, gave the smallest &lt;br /&gt;of smiles, and walked quietly towards us. When she did 'Namaste' to &lt;br /&gt;father, I thought I saw his eyes mist up. She took my hand in the friendliest &lt;br /&gt;way and said "Hello, Vyjayanthi, I've heard so much about you." I fell in &lt;br /&gt;love with her. In the car father was unusually friendly. She and Vivek had been &lt;br /&gt;in the same group of friends in Ohio University. She now worked as a &lt;br /&gt;Child Psychologist. &lt;br /&gt;She didn't seem to be too bad at family psychology either. She took &lt;br /&gt;out a shawl for grandmother, a saree for mother and Hyderabadi bangles for &lt;br /&gt;me." Just some small things. I have to meet a professor at Madurai University &lt;br /&gt;and it's so nice of you to let me stay" she said. Everyone cheered &lt;br /&gt;up. Even grandmother smiled. At lunch she said "This is so nice. When I make sambar,&lt;br /&gt;it comes out like chole, and my chole tastes just like sambar". &lt;br /&gt;Mother was smiling. "Oh just watch for 2 days, you'll pick it up." Grandmother &lt;br /&gt;had never allowed a muslim to enter the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;But mother seemed to have taken charge, and decided she would bring &lt;br /&gt;in who ever she felt was worthy. Sameera circumspectly stayed out of the &lt;br /&gt;puja room, but on the third day, was stunned to see father inviting her in &lt;br /&gt;and telling her which idols had come to him from his father. "God is one" &lt;br /&gt;he said. Sameera nodded sagely.&lt;br /&gt;By the fifth day, I could see the thought forming in the family's&lt;br /&gt;collective brains. If this fellow had to choose his own bride, why &lt;br /&gt;couldn't it be someone like Sameera? On the sixth day, when Vivek called from &lt;br /&gt;the airport saying he had cut short his Guatemala trip and was on his way &lt;br /&gt;home, all had a million things to discuss with him.&lt;br /&gt;He arrived by taxi at a time when Sameera had gone to the University. &lt;br /&gt;"So, how was Barbara's visit?" he asked blithely. "How do you know &lt;br /&gt;her?" mother asked sternly. "She's my secretary" he said. "She works very &lt;br /&gt;hard, and she'll do anything to help."&lt;br /&gt;He turned and winked at me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I got the plot now! By the time Sameera returned home that &lt;br /&gt;evening, it was almost as if her joining the family was the elders' idea. "Don't &lt;br /&gt;worry about anything", they said, "we'll talk with your parents." &lt;br /&gt;On the wedding day a huge bouquet arrived from Barbara. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It said...... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Flight to India - $1500. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian kurta - $15. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emetic to throw up - $1. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The  look on your parents' faces - priceless" J&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-6026269415238764787?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/6026269415238764787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=6026269415238764787' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/6026269415238764787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/6026269415238764787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/07/marriages-funny-side-of-it.html' title='Marriage - The funny side of it..'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-4915321173478992049</id><published>2007-07-21T13:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T13:37:50.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Divine</title><content type='html'>Kaarmukil varnante chundil&lt;br /&gt;cherum odakuzhalinte ullil&lt;br /&gt;veenurangunnoru sree raagame&lt;br /&gt;ninnil pulkiyunarthaan&lt;br /&gt;marannu kannan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;njanen mizhi naalamanayaatherichum&lt;br /&gt;neerum nejakam akilaay pukachum &lt;br /&gt;vaadum karalthadam kanneeraal nanachum&lt;br /&gt;ninne thedi nadannu thalarnnu krishna&lt;br /&gt;neeyen nombaram ariyumo shyaama varna &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RqJuhVyvfQI/AAAAAAAAAE0/R4N1ooKufL4/s1600-h/mayilpeeli.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RqJuhVyvfQI/AAAAAAAAAE0/R4N1ooKufL4/s320/mayilpeeli.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089752047946792194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ninte nandana vrindaavanathil&lt;br /&gt;pookkum paarijaathathinte kombil &lt;br /&gt;varum janmathilenkilum shourye&lt;br /&gt;oru poovaay viriyaan kazhinjuvenkil&lt;br /&gt;ninte kaalkkal veenadiyuvaan kazhinjuvenkil&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;krishna.......krishna.....krishna....&lt;br /&gt;krishna.......krishna.....krishna....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-4915321173478992049?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/4915321173478992049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=4915321173478992049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/4915321173478992049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/4915321173478992049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/07/divine.html' title='Divine'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RqJuhVyvfQI/AAAAAAAAAE0/R4N1ooKufL4/s72-c/mayilpeeli.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-5564908343472523319</id><published>2007-07-21T13:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T13:41:28.421-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ecstasy</title><content type='html'>There's a lady who's sure&lt;br /&gt;All that glitters is gold&lt;br /&gt;And she's buying a stairway to heaven.&lt;br /&gt;When she gets there she knows&lt;br /&gt;If the stores are all closed&lt;br /&gt;With a word she can get what she came for.&lt;br /&gt;Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to heaven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a sign on the wall&lt;br /&gt;But she wants to be sure&lt;br /&gt;cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.&lt;br /&gt;In a tree by the brook&lt;br /&gt;There's a songbird who sings,&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ooh, it makes me wonder,&lt;br /&gt;Ooh, it makes me wonder.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a feeling I get&lt;br /&gt;When I look to the west,&lt;br /&gt;And my spirit is crying for leaving.&lt;br /&gt;In my thoughts I have seen&lt;br /&gt;Rings of smoke through the trees,&lt;br /&gt;And the voices of those who standing looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ooh, it makes me wonder,&lt;br /&gt;Ooh, it really makes me wonder.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RqJvWVyvfRI/AAAAAAAAAE8/bmQ3HaUci6s/s1600-h/Stage_A_1024%5B1%5D.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RqJvWVyvfRI/AAAAAAAAAE8/bmQ3HaUci6s/s320/Stage_A_1024%5B1%5D.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089752958479858962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And its whispered that soon&lt;br /&gt;If we all call the tune&lt;br /&gt;Then the piper will lead us to reason.&lt;br /&gt;And a new day will dawn&lt;br /&gt;For those who stand long&lt;br /&gt;And the forests will echo with laughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If theres a bustle in your hedgerow&lt;br /&gt;Dont be alarmed now,&lt;br /&gt;Its just a spring clean for the may queen.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, there are two paths you can go by&lt;br /&gt;But in the long run&lt;br /&gt;Theres still time to change the road youre on.&lt;br /&gt;And it makes me wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your head is humming and it wont go&lt;br /&gt;In case you dont know,&lt;br /&gt;The pipers calling you to join him,&lt;br /&gt;Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow,&lt;br /&gt;And did you know&lt;br /&gt;Your stairway lies on the whispering wind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as we wind on down the road&lt;br /&gt;Our shadows taller than our soul.&lt;br /&gt;There walks a lady we all know&lt;br /&gt;Who shines white light and wants to show&lt;br /&gt;How evrything still turns to gold.&lt;br /&gt;And if you listen very hard&lt;br /&gt;The tune will come to you at last.&lt;br /&gt;When all are one and one is all&lt;br /&gt;To be a rock and not to roll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And shes buying a stairway to heaven.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-5564908343472523319?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/5564908343472523319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=5564908343472523319' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/5564908343472523319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/5564908343472523319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/07/ecstasy.html' title='Ecstasy'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RqJvWVyvfRI/AAAAAAAAAE8/bmQ3HaUci6s/s72-c/Stage_A_1024%5B1%5D.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-3714439426726573218</id><published>2007-07-20T19:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-22T07:15:06.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Harry Puttar and my seemingly endless wait.....</title><content type='html'>The other day someone was questioning me whether I still read Potter....My unabashed reply was not something he expected and the poor chap was staring at with sympathy laden eyes...My eyes were quite busy elsewhere( no, there were no chicks around), searching in vain for a wand nearby and use the avada kedavra on him...Yeah, I like potter and what's the big deal in that ?? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The morning was spent on cursing amazon fellas. Those loons had bragged that the book would be delivered today..Still no signs...was frequently tracking the shipment and it seems that the book had still not left hartford...Was tempted to use the "Pappadam kuthi" and try the summoning charm....Kya kare, once a muggle, always a muggle !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent the morning following the test match at Lords...Sachin scored 37 but India wanted something much bigger from him...Sachin is something more than a player for me..have grown up seeing him play, right from the 92 world cup till today..For us fanatics, he is a god incarnate..And to know that this would be his last appearance at the mecca of cricket,was quite depressing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh ! amidst all this, Indian team was doing what it knows best...messing up the match...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear rumblings from the distance..Drat !!! thunder storms are approaching..I cursed the rain gods as this meant another day lost for cricket...I looked up ..Hmm !! Strange, I see blue skies throughout...I look below..and locate the source of those hideous sounds...Hmmm..It seems to be from my tummy....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Signing off as I need to pacify my stomach....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-3714439426726573218?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/3714439426726573218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=3714439426726573218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/3714439426726573218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/3714439426726573218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/07/harry-puttar.html' title='Harry Puttar and my seemingly endless wait.....'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-766106887318453079</id><published>2007-07-14T14:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T10:37:20.034-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A day, some thoughts, salmon and swimming</title><content type='html'>"Crap, Pathetic !!!" would be the incantation from Parida's side if he had looked at the title..As usual, I was lazy to think about some fundoo title for this post..."Don't judge a post by it's title" - my lazy mind was preaching....hmm..an original blogger's saying...It did bear some inexplicable similiarity to another saying in english..but then who cares....Originality had lost its say long back...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing much to report today..Got up quite early at 7.15 and rushed to the office by 8.00..pretty early from Indian standards, but the elation was lost once I entered the facility..the "vidheshis" were already onto their 2nd coffee..Being "an unearthly time" for Indians to reach office, I was rewarded with a lot of sympathetic glances....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The meetings just flew by, conducted by folks who didn't have the faintest of ideas on what to talk &amp; attended by folks who didn't have a clue on what was going on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/Rp6dhGMxErI/AAAAAAAAAEs/LwkNi3sPCEE/s1600-h/dilbert2004040261444%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/Rp6dhGMxErI/AAAAAAAAAEs/LwkNi3sPCEE/s320/dilbert2004040261444%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088677820900643506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best way to go by these, as experience taught me, was to stick to the side to which the wind blew..more often than not, it should be the right path...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and that's it..I am too hungry and too lazy and too bored to type more...calling it quits..Oh ! we cooked salmon for the first time that day...prior to that went swimming...The last sentences used the last reserves of my strength..did it solely because the post should contain some reference to these terms...phew..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-766106887318453079?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/766106887318453079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=766106887318453079' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/766106887318453079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/766106887318453079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/07/day-some-thoughts-salmon-and-swimming.html' title='A day, some thoughts, salmon and swimming'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/Rp6dhGMxErI/AAAAAAAAAEs/LwkNi3sPCEE/s72-c/dilbert2004040261444%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-8045078899851354819</id><published>2007-07-07T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-08T20:23:16.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To build or not to build......</title><content type='html'>why do I take all sorts of rash decisions these days ??? repenting afterwards is not practical..hmm...have to dust up those grey cells and find a way out of this soup...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those tees looked fab on that damn dummy...was mesmerised by its appeal..imagined myself to be one kewl and trendy dude in 'em..Hell mate !!! Picturized me in em, walking thru the malls, with the every1 drooling over me...hmmm...thoughts needn't necessarily translate into practical situations in life..But then, the euphoria created,shut out the ramblings from that distant corner of the brain, where logic still had a say....Note: I still do have remnants of a brain, however miniscule it is.....An entry, glorifying the intellectual capabilities of my grey cells, would be published soon as proof for the non believers....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh !!yeah...My cluttered brain fell for the bright mirage generated by those trendy clothes and guided my hands to drop all those clothes onto the counter....The million watt smile on the clerk's face was falsely assumed to be something reserved only for customers who shop big time....Perhaps, there was an element of sarcasm in it....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Couldn't wait to try those back home...Drat !! those dumb sunglasses of mine were missing...Using advanced combing techniques, I finally located them inside the flower pot....In full attire, with the air of a hunk, I finally took a look at myself in the mirror....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!! In a split second, realisation wiped away those ephemeral thoughts.....My stubborn brain tried its best to locate the silver lining but seems that the bloody cloud never had one....To wear those trendy clothes, one must be endowed with a complete set of biceps, chest and abs....Since, these were not for sale anywhere, I was in trouble...googled the fitness sites and realised that sweating for 6 months, might produce results....Those disclaimers, ifs and buts didn't help to improve my confidence...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RpApYi6gz0I/AAAAAAAAAEE/6bEaUotPz7w/s1600-h/Muscles%2520Kid%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RpApYi6gz0I/AAAAAAAAAEE/6bEaUotPz7w/s320/Muscles%2520Kid%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084609480967114562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a loud groan, I set out on my quest to unearth the elusive dumbells, which were stored conveniently away from the eyes of the general public, lest some1 were affected by thoughts to start toning down.....I sat staring at the pair for close to 15 min, munching those snack bars..To build or not to build, that is the question !!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-8045078899851354819?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/8045078899851354819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=8045078899851354819' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/8045078899851354819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/8045078899851354819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/07/why-do-i-take-all-sorts-of-rash.html' title='To build or not to build......'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RpApYi6gz0I/AAAAAAAAAEE/6bEaUotPz7w/s72-c/Muscles%2520Kid%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-442566024221253039</id><published>2007-07-05T14:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T17:35:46.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'>About 5 lazy arses and a mrn at Mangalassery.....</title><content type='html'>don't know how else to describe the 5 of us who spend the best 3 years of our lives at Mangalassery....We were just a bunch of lazy bums who did everything from planning month end tours to charting our careers, without venturing away from the comforts of our bed....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to Kick start a day at mangalassery...Ahem, meant that I used to kick the others from their bed every mrn...Followed by a mad rush downstairs to get the paper...enroute, a halt at sanil's door, to borrow tooth paste...so much for the fun part..once inside, the crisp news paper would be "split up" among whoever was awake...the lucky one(usually the strongest) got the sports section and with it, the oppurtunity to use the "Den" aka Mithilapuri...roughly translated to Loo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh..how could i forget it !! Waking up sanooj everyday was the best part of the morning...from within the murky darkness of the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;once&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; pink bed sheet( which saw water &amp; soap once a decade), 2 fingers would direct the nearest person to the switchboard...subsequent twirling of the fingers, first clockwise and then , up an' down, was his way of signalling to us to turn off the fan...a period of inactivity was followed by the shaking of his feet...This action meant that he would rise like a phoenix from under the sheet in another 10 min...Something that we got to know thru the course of time..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6 people and one loo usually indicates a late entry into the class..but, Mangalasserians were always prompt to enter the classrooms... back seats got filled up first and the lecturers would be shocked to see us up front...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breakfast was a gala affair at Rajadhani/Classic...brkfast was a routine affair - tea ,appam and egg curry..then a 50ps ride to college on the pvt bus...bustling and jostling, we made it to the happening place called "Manakala Junction"...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-442566024221253039?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/442566024221253039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=442566024221253039' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/442566024221253039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/442566024221253039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/07/about-5-lazy-arses-and-mrn-at.html' title='About 5 lazy arses and a mrn at Mangalassery.....'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-5622191912291406130</id><published>2007-07-01T09:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-08T21:26:11.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Evaluation sheet...</title><content type='html'>Happened to look at the calendar in my outlook....hmmm..it was the month of july...been 8 months since I reached the land of dreams...8 long months, but for me, they just flew by...decided to evaluate those 8 months..in terms of what I have gained and what I have lost...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First thoughts were in terms of career..hmm, I have gone up a notch or two now..seen places, met people...I discovered traits of mine, which were hitherto, unseen.. have been more responsible(my friends back home would have a good laugh on reading this), more patient and more diplomatic in handling tough situations...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Partied hard, slogged hard..Loved my life &amp;amp; lived my life...Transformed from a horrendous cook to a bad cook...from a choosy person to an "anything is good for me" type...&lt;br /&gt;phew !! so much for the good stuff..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a personal front, it was a loss...Was not with my granny when she passed away...She always used to say that she was the first one in the family to hold me when I entered the world...And I was not with her, when she left the world..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never been separated from my parents for so long..Realised how much they miss me, the last time I talked to amma..they seem to have stopped making all my fave dishes at home, as they feel it would not be good enuf without me by their side...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RpAsIC6gz1I/AAAAAAAAAEM/fJsv34s1XyU/s1600-h/11-Another-Sunset%5B1%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RpAsIC6gz1I/AAAAAAAAAEM/fJsv34s1XyU/s320/11-Another-Sunset%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084612496034156370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8 months from my family, friends and relatives...8 months from the sights and sounds that I loved so much...8 long months...Have I gained or Have I lost ?? That remains a question&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-5622191912291406130?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/5622191912291406130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=5622191912291406130' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/5622191912291406130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/5622191912291406130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-evaluation-sheet.html' title='My Evaluation sheet...'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/RpAsIC6gz1I/AAAAAAAAAEM/fJsv34s1XyU/s72-c/11-Another-Sunset%5B1%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-7295501347327333372</id><published>2007-06-04T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T19:59:54.649-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Scribbling for nothing !!!</title><content type='html'>Wanted to scribble something in the blog...signed in and was waiting for creativity to arrive and then pen something legible...The wait for creativity lasted for 2 dosas and 1 omelette....After that,  realisation dawned...Creativity would arrive only with a hungry stomach and a fella with a full stomach has time only for sleep...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned over to my bed and waited for sandman to come...sheesh, !! the line reminds me of those stupid comics where the anti hero, the sandman, lulls kids to eternal sleep...Eternal sleep, though not the need of the hour, was too tempting...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-7295501347327333372?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/7295501347327333372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=7295501347327333372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7295501347327333372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7295501347327333372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/06/scribbling-for-nothing.html' title='Scribbling for nothing !!!'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-1460399517706897991</id><published>2007-05-19T09:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-03T20:38:34.117-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The love of my life</title><content type='html'>I can hear the rains lashing outside..summer is not the time for rains but the rain god must have been in a rebellious mood today..The winds were howling through the trees and bought a strange sort of ambience to the atmosphere...It bought back old memories...Memories of my love...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss her so much now...far across the seven seas, I have no means to see her...I still remember those rainy day when I went for a ride with her...that was so long before...I miss those intimate moments....Her touch was so reassuring that it had a calming effect on me..I knew that i could find solace in her fold...She was my constant companion during my days in India...How I miss her now....The separation was unbearable...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had half a mind to bring her with me..but my parents would never allow that...They would not understand...they never will..There were other problems too...The costs involved were exorbitant...It was just not possible..I should learn to live without her...No,  I just can't think of any one else in her place...There are lots of harleys and suzukis...But none could ever stand before my beloved CALIBER !!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-1460399517706897991?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/1460399517706897991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/1460399517706897991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/05/love-of-my-life.html' title='The love of my life'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-7554659611275477104</id><published>2007-04-28T07:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T14:57:18.462-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2623 makes the move !!</title><content type='html'>hmmm...where did i leave off ?? yup, dinner..don't remember the menu we ordered..but just know that our resolve to follow the age old belief to eat lightly before a journey, was broken...the food was really good....so, eat we did, without any inhibitions....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thru the subway, we made it to central... I was brought down to my senses when i realised that the my ticked status was still RAC...it needed to move another 20 places in order to have a realistic chance of making it to the cnfrmd status..."Don't worry mate, mebbe ur berthmate would be a gorgeous stud an' you can spend the hours chatting with her", my worried mind was trying to find the silver lining....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pushing aside the heads that threatened to block my view of the reservation chart, i peeked thru to get hold of the chart...and there, lo and behold(after 10 min of standing on tip toe), i could see my name at the very bottom, with the status as cnfrmd...yippeeee !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the last of the tensions resolved, we made our way thru the milling crowd...It was a foregone conclusion that our coach would be at the very end of the track and as usual my money was safe....we "scanned" the chart but to no avail...A quiet night, indeed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decided to meet after the TTE was done over with..UB is my fave spot and so far, I was riding my luck....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-7554659611275477104?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/7554659611275477104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=7554659611275477104' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7554659611275477104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7554659611275477104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/04/2623-makes-move.html' title='2623 makes the move !!'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-7146268503802560923</id><published>2007-04-26T18:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T19:08:34.272-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2623 - MAS to CGNR - RAC to CNFRMD</title><content type='html'>The buzz of my alarm was never greeted with enthusiasm...Had it got a pair of legs and a life of its own, the time piece of mine would have fled from the scene, fearing my wrath...But, today was a different day..it was friday, and a loooooooong weekend was around the corner...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bounded out of my bed..40 minutes to get ready for office and to pack my bags...ample time, bro..grabbing the day's edition, I locked myself inside "The Den"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After stuffing all the clothes into the bag, I scampered out to the bus stop...In the nick of time...I could see numerous pairs of eyes staring at me, eyes full of envy...those hapless souls who were cursed to spend the weekend at office...I trudged on to my fave seat and sat down...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breakfast at Navalur has always been a pleasant experience...the gang woud assemble and start off with the usual...Girls in friday casuals more than made up for the sodden breakfast...ogling at em, we started charting out the evening plans..the time to get out of office, the bus to catch etc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;logged in to the PC at work...it seemed to echo the user's state of mind...lazy ,in no mood to work and it took a whole 10 minutes to get started....The chores for the day looked cakewalk..hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, after 3 coffee breaks, a heavy lunch and hours of browsing, the numbers at the bottom left corner of the screen became 4.45 pm..Time to make a move...After pacifying the fellas that I would be bringing them chips, I started...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fellas had gathered near the gate...With the usual light hearted banter, we started out to get the 5.00 bus...hopefully in time to catch the 5.45 from tidel...The bus was jampacked, but we didnt have an option...We hauled ourselves in...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Traffic was heavy but we still made it in time to the metro...got ourselves tickets and waited fo the shuttle to come..Dinner would be from some hotel near central...hmmm..lots of time to catch 2623...we crowded near the door as the train chugged on to central...screamed would be a better word...The cool breeze felt reassuring and soothed the tensions of the past week...felt good that I would be seeing my parents and my friends again...yippe....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got down at park and merged with the crowd moving towards central...The faded, but impressive red building loomed in the horizon....A sight to behold, indeed !!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-7146268503802560923?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/7146268503802560923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=7146268503802560923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7146268503802560923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7146268503802560923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/04/2623-mas-to-cgnr-rac-to-cnfrmd.html' title='2623 - MAS to CGNR - RAC to CNFRMD'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-4251197681416757991</id><published>2007-03-26T17:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T20:20:44.429-07:00</updated><title type='text'>8.45 - 9.00 !!!</title><content type='html'>"how much did it come to ???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5 pairs of eyes carefully sifted through the coins and notes under the dim light of the street lamp...would it be enough ?? That was the question in every1's mind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John got the picture immediately...80 short...heck...&lt;br /&gt;The five of us started pondering on the possibilities...In the IT jargon, work around solutions was the need of the hour...did we have any ??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time was running short..The place closed by 9 and we just had 15 min...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mandan and vis looked forlorn...An anti climax to the 2 days of planning seemed to be around the corner...We had put in a lot of thought in to every part of the plan and special care was taken on the question of funds..300 was quite a large sum for 6 unemployed jerks but we had made up our mind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We sat under the banyan tree..That's where we usually assembled in the evening...Like vultures hungry for flesh, we scanned the area for the innocent prey to wander near us...Would we get those 80 bucks ??? hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And get, we did..don't ask me how, coz i forgot...yup..started that piece of ancient machinery, which also acted as Pappus bike...pushing the hag of a bike to the edge, the 4 of us rode to the nearest place...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;reached in the nick of time..the place was just closing up..the probability of getting one was close to seeing a dodo walking on the road again..But pappu was at his polite best..he begged, cried, tried all his magic and finally coaxed the fellow at the counter to part with it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We rushed to our fave spot..The entire place was deserted...The smiles on our faces said it all..we had finally done it..And thats, how, we first tasted the stuff...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-4251197681416757991?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/4251197681416757991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=4251197681416757991' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/4251197681416757991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/4251197681416757991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/03/845-900.html' title='8.45 - 9.00 !!!'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-3589801522406828462</id><published>2007-03-25T14:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T17:54:22.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time heals</title><content type='html'>old timers say that..read in some books bout it too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the pain was unbearable..when you are going to lose some1 who is close to you and you know that you are helpless...it was one such ocassion...I was helpless...it just shakes your confidence..I thought that I had the solution to most of the problems..yet, i could just stand by, mute...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The enormity of my actions took a while to sink in...God, why did I do that ? I don't have an answer till date..I could have changed all this- the course of my life...But, I didn't..Just stayed silent...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guilt remains to this day...It took several days to recover from the impact...Long winded talks with my friends, those lonely hours i spent alone pondering my actions, the incessant pressure at work...It took time...and it healed...Yup, time does heal all wounds..The old timers got it right, yet again....But, what about the scars ? Oh Wise men ! speak up...&lt;br /&gt;They still remain, deep inside your heart, like forgotten painful memories...I am destined to live with them...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-3589801522406828462?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/3589801522406828462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=3589801522406828462' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/3589801522406828462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/3589801522406828462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/03/time-heals.html' title='Time heals'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-7196720123649567290</id><published>2007-03-25T08:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T14:04:29.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories at the beach.....</title><content type='html'>We were at the beach...where else would you expect us on a saturday evening...the movie had redefined our logic levels and questioned our belief in the physics, gravity and hyper metabolic xyz, whatever...Newton would have died on the spot instead of waiting for the apple to fall on his head, had he seen the dumb movie...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe the salty air wuz just what we needed to recharge our grey cells...We took a spot far away from the crowd and drank in the view...saturday evening at the beach, has always been a fabulous experience for me...this time, it was no different...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The waves were high, a bit unnatural at this time...I could see the kids screaming when a particularly big one threatened to drench them...I could see some fellas having a good time playing a game, ahem...one can't define a game which is a cross bw soccer and volleyball...I could see the lovers, glued to themselves, enjoying their cozy moments....and then, I saw her.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was strolling on the beach, a little too near to the waves...always on the lookout for the big one...and when it came, she would scurry off from the edge, laughing at the effort...she was different, from the rest, mesmerised by the beauty and oblivious to the madding crowd...A whiff of innocence...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some days which one would turn away like pages in a book, too insignificant to hold in your memory...others would bring sad thoughts...Some held memories, which brings a smile to your face...And then there are days like this...they hold a special meaning in your life..this was one of them..I met her for the first time that evening.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-7196720123649567290?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/7196720123649567290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=7196720123649567290' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7196720123649567290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/7196720123649567290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/03/evening-at-beach.html' title='Memories at the beach.....'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-40087802299427924</id><published>2007-03-23T15:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T19:42:31.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Saturday morning</title><content type='html'>Got up quite late..11.00 am...pondered, while lying on the bed on what to do in the weekend..A repeat of yesterday's night out ?? no way buster !!! Another of that freaky night and I am grounded...got up from my bed and went to c the fellas...basil wuz quite excited bout the match..Oz were the favourites but then other teams have sharpened their skills too...except my team !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cleaned up a mountain of vessels...hmmm, any nitwit knows that unclean vessels stink over the week, but then sanity has always refused to impress our grey cells...the thrill of scrubbing away the scum, the wild pleasure one gets when u notice that yellow moss has spread all over the vessels, hmmm, u just cant beat that..Oh, btw, rice flowers can be commercially cultivated by immersing boiled rice and keeping it underwater for 3 weeks...for genetically modified versions of the same, add sambhar/rasam/other curries to the rice and repeat the process....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sat down on the plush diwan to watch the match...the power hitters are back...blasting their way out of trouble...cricket has changed, man !! but, then thats another story...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-40087802299427924?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/40087802299427924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=40087802299427924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/40087802299427924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/40087802299427924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/03/saturday-morning.html' title='A Saturday morning'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356030707495172016.post-353757576181403476</id><published>2007-03-23T15:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T15:38:37.079-07:00</updated><title type='text'>we crashed out !!!</title><content type='html'>I had a sick feeling by noon that something would go awry...The team had to do well, had to beat the lankans to stay alive..anticipated an exciting game, but things just sort of fell apart..&lt;br /&gt;But then, this has been happening for quite some time..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;back from office, lying on the couch..the whole gang is here,as another lifeless weekend is gonna start..This is america for christ's sake, u enjoy life out here mate..Middletown, though geographically in US, is simply a place in the middle of nowhere...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6356030707495172016-353757576181403476?l=themercurian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/feeds/353757576181403476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6356030707495172016&amp;postID=353757576181403476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/353757576181403476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6356030707495172016/posts/default/353757576181403476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://themercurian.blogspot.com/2007/03/we-crashed-out.html' title='we crashed out !!!'/><author><name>The Mercurian</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09605591623248651242</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JAC0BQn9yLQ/ST9RAh4lJbI/AAAAAAAADA4/1xvws8_bzkw/S220/hjhg.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
