Indiblogger: Youngistan Contest

I am nominating four of my posts for the Indiblogger Blog of the month contest and as it is being sponsored by Pepsi, I need to put in my two pence regarding this ‘Youngistaan Contest’. With a Rapidshare account as one of the prizes on offer, I have shed all qualms and unhesitatingly associate myself with this corporate initiative.

So I need to create a challenge for Ranbir as he tries to lay his hand on a bottle of Pepsi. Here goes,

A bottle of Pepsi lies before Ayesha Siddique. She will give it to Ranbir only when he manages to convince Shoiab Malik to serenade her at the top of his voice with Sania Mirza dancing in the background in a tennis outfit. The catch lies in the fact that Ranbir will have to marry Ayesha if he fails. He also needs to shout Baba Nityanand ki Jai after every ten seconds during the whole mission.

If only it were so easy...

PS: Oh Google!Why so brilliant? Is there nothing you suck at?

8401!

Should one celebrate one's 8401 st rotation around the earth's axis?

Well, I have no reason to.

Saddlepoint?

Return of April 2006. With a distinct twist.
I hate these situations.

BLOGTHINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You Are 35% Left Brained, 65% Right Brained

The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning. Left brained people are good at communication and persuading others. If you're left brained, you are likely good at math and logic. Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet. The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility. Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way. If you're right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art. Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy, and sports.

Are You Right or Left Brained?

Your EQ is 147

50 or less: Thanks for answering honestly. Now get yourself a shrink, quick! 51-70: When it comes to understanding human emotions, you'd have better luck understanding Chinese. 71-90: You've got more emotional intelligence than the average frat boy. Barely. 91-110: You're average. It's easy to predict how you'll react to things. But anyone could have guessed that. 111-130: You usually have it going on emotionally, but roadblocks tend to land you on your butt. 131-150: You are remarkable when it comes to relating with others. Only the biggest losers get under your skin. 150+: Two possibilities - you've either out "Dr. Phil-ed" Dr. Phil... or you're a dirty liar.

What's Your EQ (Emotional Intelligence Quotient)?

You Have Your Sarcastic Moments

While you're not sarcastic at all times, you definitely have a cynical edge. In your opinion, not all people are annoying. Some are dead! And although you do have your genuine moments, you can't help getting your zingers in. Some people might be a little hurt by your sarcasm, but it's more likely they think you're hilarious.

How Sarcastic Are You?

You Are An INTP

The Thinker You are analytical and logical - and on a quest to learn everything you can. Smart and complex, you always love a new intellectual challenge. Your biggest pet peeve is people who slow you down with trivial chit chat. A quiet maverick, you tend to ignore rules and authority whenever you feel like it. You would make an excellent mathematician, programmer, or professor.

What's Your Personality Type?

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead... But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself. You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place. You just don't get ugly yourself - unless you have to!

How Machiavellian Are You?

perhaps.......

u turn or dead end?

"Karmanyevadhikaraste ma phaleshu kadachana, Ma karmaphalaheturbhurmate sangostva karmani"

lets play ball.

CHRONICLES OF A BLACK SHEEP

CHAPTER-2

THREE MEN ON A P HONE

Today will be remembered for a long time. For the first time in my life I had a three way conference on my cell phone. That too with my old school buddies.

Three guys. One in Delhi. One in Chennai. And the third in Calcutta. We spoke for 80 minutes at a stretch. It was like vacation time. The only thing missing were the innumerable plates of steaming momos which normally accompany our annual get together. We discussed everything. Academics, future career plans, existent/non-existent love lives, old teachers, Hollywood, Bollywood, cricket, pros and cons of the three respective metros, food, mobile service, weather, alcohol, metro rail, cars. As usual we indulged in the all too familiar leg pulling with dear Lucian bearing the brunt of the attack, which of course is a forgone conclusion in any matter he takes part in.

I was speaking to Ravi after a long time and as expected he has not changed a bit. Going steady with a girl for some time, he was his usual affable self. Just for the records it was he who sponsored this cross country communication extravaganza. I did not ask him how he intended to pay for all this for going by his reputation as the biggest duper of mobile phone agencies in history, he surely must have had a cunning plan somewhere. Lucian was his usual self and thankfully not drunk. He couldn’t help making his trademark silly statements which have got him into those frequent embarrassing situations, which have always been our source of primary entertainment.

I for my part kept up my reputation of being Lucian’s tormentor-in-chief. I had to confide in Ravi about my failed attempts at the obvious. He was naturally very supportive. We updated each other on what’s going on in our respective lives, along with catching up on the lives of common friends.

Such conversations really bring in a breath of fresh air into the otherwise hectic schedule we go through. For a few moments time comes to a standstill and we are transported back to those enchanting schooldays where we all used to sit and discuss these very topics. Around five years have passed but our views, thoughts and mannerisms have remained the same. Hopefully, it will stay so. Amen.

CHRONICLES OF A BLACK SHEEP.

CHAPTER-1

SOMETHING NEEDS TO BE DONE!.

How would one describe his memoirs? An anthology of certain events. Or something more. What about the trials and tribulations one goes through daily? Should they be written about? Talked about? Discussed on a public platform? I need not worry about the public part. Though technically the blog is open for all to see, till last count only about two to three people actually invest time browsing through it.

I have always considered baring ones heart out to someone else is a silly thing to do. One always ends up making a fool of oneself. Emotional restraint manages to keep people guessing. And hence avoids exploitation to a certain extent. My mom once exclaimed exasperatedly that she had never seen such an emotionless fellow as me. I took it as a compliment. But I realized that perhaps occasionally it would be a good idea to jot down those thought processes for future reference. I have noticed they generally entertain you at a later point of time. And hopefully it might prevent me from making the same mistakes. (Fat chance of that happening.)

So the next thing is to decide what to write and what not to. I will surely not want to know how my classes went and what I had for dinner. Or perhaps I would. Well, the point is that it’s not fair to classify something as boring and something as interesting. It all depends on how one views a thing. It’s all about presentation. A façade. A show. An extravaganza. If one can pull it off properly. So here goes. From now on I intend to be a little more forthcoming with my articles. My antics and instincts always ensure there is enough material about which I can go on spinning yarns about in this blog. Too many things seem to be happening to me all the time. So as Pota might have said, “it has become very necessary to document my youth.”

SAMBHAR OF 69

Here's something i came across while on one of my frequent aimless excursions in the cyberworld.
Salutations to the unknown composer. Hopefully i will manage to convince the hostel office to have this as our anthem for the new Giga-Mess.

I had my first real six rupees,
Stole it from my father's pants.
Went to a Madrasi hotel,
To eat the sambhar of 69.
Me and some kadke dost,
Had it all and we caught bukhaar,
Jimy puked, Joey got ulcers,
and Bagga ne maari dakar.

Oh when I went back there now,
the food was as stale as ever,
and though it was 1999,
Still the sambhar was being served over there,

That was the worst food of my life.

(So true. sigh!)

The Unknown Citizen
by: W. H. Auden

(To JS/07 M 378
This Marble Monument Is Erected by the State)

He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows he was once in a hospital but left it cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Installment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation.
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

robert frost.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

ON HIS BLINDNESS.

JOHN MILTON.

WHEN I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present	5
My true account, lest He returning chide,
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts. Who best	10
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o’er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.”

Point To Ponder Over.........

"I have traveled across the length and breadth of India and I have not seen one person who is a beggar, who is a thief. Such wealth I have seen in this country, such high moral values, people of caliber, that I do not think we would ever conquer this country, unless we break the very backbone of this nation, which is her spiritual and cultural heritage and therefore I propose that we replace her old and ancient education system, her culture, for if Indians think that all that is foreign and English is good and greater than their own, they will lose their self-esteem their native self culture and they will become what we want, a truly dominated nation". - Lord McCauley (in his speech of Feb2, 1835, British parliament)