Contents[hide] |
-705745.jpg)
-708814.jpg)
Sent from my Nokia phone
Read more...
Lyrics of Ek Ghar Banaunga | |
|
I grew up in a world where
music played when birds were
in the mood to chirp.
Where fashion statements
wernt mass manufactured.
When greys and laugh lines
were celebrated and not
mourned. Where water was
filled with natural minerals
served warm or chilled,
depending on the time of day.
In keeping with the times,
we've put a label on it
live natural.
Sent from my Nokia phone
Living in 2009
YOU KNOW YOU ARE LIVING IN 2009 when...
1. You accidentally enter your password on the microwave.
2 You haven't played solitaire with real cards in years.
3. You have a list of 15 phone numbers to reach your family of 3.
4. You e-mail the person who works at the desk next to you.
5. Your reason for not staying in touch with friends and family is that they don't have e-mail addresses.
6. You pull up in your own driveway and use your cell phone to see if anyone is home to help you carry in the groceries.
7. Every commercial on television has a web site at the bottom of the screen.
8. Leaving the house without your cell phone, which you didn't have the first 20 or 30 (or 60) years of your life, is now a cause for panic and you turn around to go and get it.
10. You get up in the morning and go on line before getting your coffee.
11. You start tilting your head sideways to smile. : )
12 You're reading this and nodding and laughing.
13. Even worse, you know exactly to whom you are going to forward this message.
14. You are too busy to notice there was no #9 on this list.
15. You actually scrolled back up to check that there wasn't a #9 on this list
AND NOW YOU ARE LAUGHING at yourself.
Go on, forward this to your friends. You know you want to. ha ha ha ha.
__._,_.__
Now, send attachments up to 25MB with Yahoo! India Mail. Learn how.
_________________________________________________________________
More than messages–check out the rest of the Windows Live™.
http://www.microsoft.com/india/windows/windowslive/
I am new to this thing called twitter. I can understanding blogging which is basically publishing on the net. But in twitter i see posts like "trying a new toilet paper brand " or " havinf sex with my neighbours wife" and the type. And its supposed to be open to all to and ppl follow twitters. I guess that also explains the tremendous myth shattering success of reality shows. I can definitely try twitter but NOT reality show. Heres my twitter for now:
typing on my phone this post letter by letter and with earphones plugged into my ears sitting in the car headed to a meeting
whew.....that was tiring.....
tomorrows dussera pooja in my factory hence looking forward to it.
Sent from my Nokia phone
Read more...This was a funny tagline in the newspapers today! They say the Brazil Russia India China group never agrees to anything to the G 8 hence they should be renamed as CRIB!
Its pretty funny that for years the established world powers have harnessed the blood of many nations and that today when they ask genuine concerns they are ridiculed.
What they dont realise that today if the BRIC does not consume they will cease to survive. The BRIC countries also know how to tighten the belts while the west does not!
we shall overcome and march on till the time we become superpowers ourselves!
| And so it came to be this isolation that I am I can only look into me to find the way it all began - this confusion, constant hunger for something more than this I strive to find this being that I envision, yet seem to miss. Could it be that I am empty- or maybe a little lost? Could it be that I am lonely, or seek happiness at any cost? This never-ending Something that I am living deep inside, depicts the illusion of myself and all I have to hide. |
What is the meaning of happiness and how is it influemced by rest of the universe. Is it an insulated feeling? Or is it a sum net of the influences from around us?
these are questions dogging me with me.
Sent from my Nokia phone
Read more...| It gives great pleasure to read this… We remember the beginning of Abhiyantriki in 1999 with the students council of Bala, Vinil and Co. From there on we did the second years Abhiyantriki i.e. the Millennium walla! The I rember the next years had a battle tank et al. And going on from strength to strength., All the best to the present years team! Dear Alumni, As every year this year ABHIYANTRIKI 09 the intercollegiate technical festival of our college is scheduled on 25th September 2009.I cordially invite you to encourage us and participate in the events if you are interested in any. The link to our website for Abhiyantriki 09 is as follows: http://www.somaiya.edu/kjsce/abhiyantriki/abhiyantriki09.html The academic year 2009-10 was the Silver Jubilee year of our college. As you know 12th September '08 was celebrated as the opening ceremony we are celebrating 26th September'09 as the closing ceremony to mark the completion of 25 years of K.J.Somaiya College of Engineering. I am glad to tell you that this day would be honored by the presence of Dr.A.P. J. Kalam the ex-president and an icon of our country. For any further details you can always contact me. Regards, Anisha Mukhija Secretary for Alumni Affairs. Students Council 09-10. |
Vikas Swarup’s new novel begins with an account of the misdemeanors committed by a rich, unscrupulous young man named Vicky Rai, who knows he can rely on his dad’s contacts to shield him from the law. Vicky’s career in crime comes to a head when he whips out a gun and shoots a bargirl who refuses him a drink. Though there are witnesses to the murder, the trial turns into a farce and -to widespread outrage - he is soon released. Then, at a farmhouse party held to celebrate his acquittal, Vicky is himself shot dead by an unknown assassin.
The first half of this story is, of course, a barely disguised version of the Jessica Lall-Manu Sharma case. Since Vicky is the most visible face of the darker side of a society where the rich and powerful know they can get away with anything, his own murder seems like an almost symbolic act: an incensed middle class striking out against its tormenters; the shot that launches the revolution. But it’s also a real killing, carried out with a real gun, and there are six unlikely suspects: a native from an island in the Andaman, searching for a sacred stone that was stolen from his tribe; a popular young actress who pretends to be a bimbo but quotes Nietzsche; Vicky’s father Jagannath Rai, a slimy politician; an enterprising mobile-phone thief; a retired bureaucrat with a split-personality problem; and an idiot American who was conned into coming to India to get married. Which of them is the killer, what is the motive and how did most of them come to be at this party in the first place?
The thing to admire about Six Suspectsis the breadth of Swarup’s storytelling. This book is really a collection of six separate stories – all of which are reasonably well-plotted – that eventually converge into a large narrative. Many other authors would have been temped to milk this material for all it was worth, to perhaps spread it over two or three books, but Swarup packs it all into one dense novel. Its a book that one can begin in the morning and by late noon would have completed it. Conversations that could easily have been finished in three or four sentences meander on, there is too much exposition, and some of the sub-plots in the personal stories of the six suspects seem to have been included only so that each person could be given a novella-length background. It takes a lot of patience to get through the section about the tribal criss-crossing India – from Calcutta to Chennai to Banaras to Allahabad – in search of his talisman, or the one where the American, Larry Page, finds himself kidnapped by a terrorist group after being mistaken for the Google founder of the same name, or – worst of all – the bizarrely convoluted story about the bureaucrat possessed by the spirit of Mahatma Gandhi.
Even given this long-windedness, Six Suspects would have been a more convincing read if Swarup had stuck with the omniscient-narrator format. Instead, he has three of the suspects – the actress, the American and the thief – tell their own stories, and authenticity becomes a problem in these first-person passages. The actress says “so there I was, immersed in my private digital ecosystem” to describe her communing with an iPod. There’s no end to the puerile similes used by the lovelorn American (“I was nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking-chairs”; “I reckon a love like ours is scarce as hen’s teeth”), though they are amusing in small doses. And when “Munna Mobile”, the thief, goes to a Chinese restaurant in a five-star hotel for the first time, we get – purportedly in his own voice – this dubious wealth of description:
Brass lanterns hang from the ceiling, flame-spewing golden dragons adorn the walls. The furniture is elegant, rectangular mica-topped tables complemented by black, high-backed chairs. The waitress, a chinky-eyed girl clad in a long, slinky blue dress with dragon motifs and slits, welcomes me with the effusiveness normally reserved for heavy tippers.
Six Suspects is ridden with caricatures – from corrupt Indian politician, perpetually manipulating strings, to dumb, insular American who comes to love a third-world country (“where cows are worshipped like Goddesses rather than turned into steak”). It would be a mistake to over-stress this aspect of the novel – and to forget that people like Jagannath Rai and Larry Page really do exist – but the book’s use of these character types precludes any lasting insights into the workings of a very complex society struggling with injustice and disparity. Every nexus, every command issued by an oily politician is dealt with in straightforward cause-and-effect terms. The investigative journalist and the TV reporter (a Barkha Dutt stand-in, named – if you must know – Barkha Das) are sanctimonious. People speak in platitudes and articulate their flaws and motivations as if they were pinning easy-to-read labels on themselves for the edification of the reader. (“We hit people not to show our strength but to mask our weakness,” philosophizes a police inspector after an interrogation, “we pick only on the poor and the powerless, because they cannot hit back.”) Rarely do the bad guys bother to delude themselves that they are in some nebulous way working not for self-interest but for the greater good (which is something that happens all the time in the real world).
“Even murder can become addictive” is the final, anarchist sentence of Six Suspects. Swarup’s book is similar in some ways to another recently published novel, Aravind Adiga’sThe White Tiger, which was about a lower-class man simultaneously resentful of and aspiring towards the lives of the privileged. When Swarup has someone point out that “there are occasions when murder is not only justified, it is necessary...as a ritual of righteousness”, it vaguely echoes something said by Adiga’s protagonist, Balram Halvai: “Kill enough people and they will put up bronze statues to you near Parliament House in Delhi. But all I wanted was the chance to be a man – and for that, one murder was enough.” The difference is that the murder in The White Tiger is committed by someone who wants to step into his victim’s shoes, while the killing of Vicky in Six Suspects is to be seen as a wake-up call for a corrupt society. Adiga’s novel was more ironical, more attuned to how easily the leaders of a revolution can become the very thing they set out to destroy, but Six Suspects is powered by idealism. On more than one occasion, its generalisation of people and situations reminded me of Madhur Bhandarkar’s films, which try to expose the dark underbelly of a social stratum by doling out clichés about it.
Except that while Bhandarkar at least deals with one issue at a time (the high-society-media nexus in Page 3, big-business corruption in Corporate, the politics of beggars’ cliques in Traffic Signal), Six Suspects tries to be a ready reckoner to all the contradictions and injustices in Indian society. Vicky Rai himself is a convenient amalgamation of many high-profile real-world offenders whose misdeeds – along with the justice system’s inability to prosecute them – have shocked middle-class India in recent years. (In the book’s first chapter – an improbably long and self-indulgent column written by an investigative journalist – we learn that apart from shooting the bargirl, Vicky has run over sleeping pavement dwellers in his BMW and killed endangered black bucks. Sounds familiar?) But there are numerous other allusions to burning topics of our time, so that you get the impression the author has a list of “points to be included” and is ticking them off one by one.
Call-centres make an appearance (Larry finds himself working in one and is confronted by an irate American customer who refuses to believe he is speaking to a real American), there are references to reverse-colonialism (“it has become almost de rigueur in Bollywood to have at least one song with some firang white dancers doing jhatka-matka at the bidding of our own desi brown-skinned actors”), the Bhopal gas tragedy, globe-trotting charlatans posing as holy men, the contrast between the glitzy mall culture and the lives of lower-class Indians, and the corruption that exists in every conceivable walk of life. There’s so much going on here that the book could almost have been sub-titled “An Encyclopaedia of the Social Issues Facing Modern India”, but somewhere amidst all this the novel that presumably set out to tell a coherent story is lost.
This is reviewed from: http://jaiarjun.blogspot.com/ Ill write my own when I finish the book tomorrow :-)
Yesterday I travelled on the Garib Rath for the first time. I was amazed that at a cost of Rs 300 I was getting to sit in a comfortable and spacious seat with air conditioning, clean interiors, sliding doors, clean loos and in fact very very comfortable environs.
I was thoroughly impressed and do wish that the railways rationalises the cost and if required bump it by about 50-100 and increase such trains. It should not be done at a loss but for short 6-7 hour jouirneys this is the best way to go... even compared to a flight
All the best Indian Railways. You are the best! Crabtree switches, SS work, clean and comfort seating, non skid fllooring in linilium. I am sure that given the proper push these guys will give the airlines a run for their money. And the surprising thing is there are no pilots who will go on strike and hold passengers to ransom1
This Saturday is the beginning of Navaratri, i.e. the time of fun and frolic and is infact a celebration of good over evil. Lets join together to request for a small prayer for the good to emenate in the world to overshadow the bad. It is only after we emerge from pitch darkness that we appreciate the light.
As you teach, you learn.
- Jewish Proverb
A mother understands what a child does not say.
- Jewish Proverb
Don't look for more honor than your life merits.
- Jewish Proverb
Worries go down better with soup than without.
- Jewish Proverb
Don't live in a town where there are no doctors.
- Jewish Proverb
Do not be wise in words - be wise in deeds.
- Jewish Proverb
God couldn't be everywhere, so he created mothers.
- Jewish Proverb
Pride is the mask of one's own faults.
- Jewish Proverb
Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us.
- Hal Borland
Truth is the safest lie.
- Jewish Proverb
Never trust the man who tells you all his troubles but keeps from you all his joys.
- Jewish Proverb
Don't open a shop unless you know how to smile.
- Jewish Proverb
What you don't see with your eyes, don't invent with your mouth.
- Jewish Proverb
Many people look forward to the new year for a new start on old habits.
- Anonymous
Nows a good time as any to make a photo gallary and here it is..... I have uploaded as many of snaps as possible... have fun viewing them and leave your comments behind
This song is by a buch of dudes from my alma mater who had rendered this a long time ago. This is a song "somaiya ke lamhe" performed by a band called BEAT 41, formed by a bunch of students of KJ Somaiya Engg College. It is taken from the original song woh lamhe by atif aslam.
Nostalgia reeks from this song as even today goose bumps form on me when i heard this song and relate to every aspect..... externals, practicals, kts, grace marks and the whole gamut of emotions that today we remember back so fondly on but at that time it seemed like a big burden on life!
© Blogger templates The Professional Template by Ourblogtemplates.com 2008
Back to TOP
