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Wednesday, January 19, 2005


Universal

Hemant

Tuesday, January 18, 2005


Universal Posted by Hello

Tuesday, August 03, 2004

Mafia Trivia

The Players (in no specific order):
Bapu, Smriti, Boozy, Tookie, Parag, Haripriya, Madhura, Rishabh, Nipun, Amar, Viggy, Goddy, Shobhna, Neha, Raj, Nihar, Ambya, Lakshmi, Paritosh, Vintya, Basu Da, Kapil, Neelabh,Sandy.

Favorite Punch Lines/Quotes:

Rishabh: "Chalo Mafia Khelte hain"
Boozy: "Main God Banoonga, Main God Banoonga"
Tookie: "Vineet, kisko maarein?"
Vineet: "Tookie, kisko maarein?"
Parag: "Maarne ka pattern dekho, maarne ka pattern dekho yaar" . turns out he's the mafia!

Haripriya:"Mujhe laga is taraf there was some movement" (pointing at someone sitting four seats away)

Madhura:"Logic de raha hai, ise maar do!", five minutes later ,"Logic nahin de raha, ise maar do!"
Nipun:"Madhura sexy mafia bani thi"
Amar:"Tum log kaise **** ho, tum logon ko khelna nahin aata"
Shobhna: "Humein neend aa rahi hai"
Smriti: *Honest to god, I cant remember a single statement she made!*
Nihar: "I think you are trying to confuse all of us"
Ambya: "Arre main policeman hoon yaar!" (about fifty times in the game!)
Lakshmi:"I heard something from this side" (pointing at some arbit corner of the room)
Paritosh: "Mereko HP khoobh sunai" :(
Basu Da: "Main to khud hi confused hoon, mujhe maar do"
Sandy: You guys have to tell me :)

Junta, please go ahead and add to this !

Rendezvous with Drama

After a flurry of early postings, I disappeared. You must be asking yourself, now what happened to this guy? I have an explanation, I have been hit on the head, socked on the nose, kicked in my privates and currently am unable to say much other than 'ah-oh' and an occasional expletive. In simpler words I have been roughed up rather badly by a monster. Let me, however, tell you my part of the story. So that, you, dear friends, dont think that your beloved Odin has let you down in any way.
I was supposed to meet a lady friend of mine today, and, as aforementioned, I am a poor man. So I decided to save some money on fuel by not taking my Odin-mobile (which I suspect needs more liters of petrol than the water you'd need to run all the way to Cape Town). And so, there I was, sitting in the train, making my way to our rendezvous. My heart was aflutter, because, quite frankly, I had never kissed a woman before, and on my last date with her we had come pretty darn close to hogging on each others labial appendages. And to make it worse, there was a cold sore on my lower lip. As enjoyable as kissing might be, I didnt really relish the idea of someone chewing on my cold sore. It made me and my cold sore nervous. Call me a sissy, call me a coward, but there are somethings I absolutely will not do. And to top it off, my bottle of listerine slipped from my hand in the bathroom and I didnt even have mouthwash. That meant that my oral cavity was probably smelling worse than a skunk's posterior. I was low on spirits, I can tell you!
And so, there I was, watching the train pass through tunnels and more tunnels. Till I noticed a young lady sitting beside the window. She was pretty, in a Whoopi Goldberg kinda way. Very refined, and very prim n proper, as I said before, in a Whoopi Goldberg kinda way. And so there she sat, staring out into the .. errr... tunnel. I looked at her, she looked at me for a moment, and the world started spinning around me. Realisation dawned on me - I had forgotten to take my vertigo pills. I steadied myself and fished in my vanity bag for the damned pills. I dozed off into a fitful sleep, dreaming about the pills and about Whoopi Goldberg look-alikes.
I woke up to the sound of someone burping really loudly in the front seat. Not exactly the best way to be woken up. I saw a burly old man, about ninety years of age sitting opposite the pretty young damsel I had been hitherto dreaming about. He looked scary, with his white hair dyed red and green, and with a tattoo on his thick hoary forearm, which read 'God shave the Queen'. I couldnt see his face, but the back of his head seemed to have an aura of evil, with all that wrinkled skin interspered with red and green dyed hair. A shiver ran through my spine from the base of my neck, making its way past my shoulderblades, halting momentarily by the rib cage, and then all the way down to my coccyx. I could feel something evil lurking in the shadows. I couldnt have been any closer to the truth. For that very moment, a HUGE rat ran out from under my seat, forcing me to jump onto my seat with such alacrity as would put even Mr. Anderson to shame. However, in my sudden rush of adrenaline or testosterone or whatever other hormone my poor thyroid could pump out, I forgot that the old man was sitting in front of me and somesaulted on to his lap.
I suspect the old man didnt like it much , because he looked at me for a moment and landed a sledgehammer (the onlookers told me that he was only flicking the back of his wrist, but I beg to differ) on my face, followed by a few well aimed half nelsons on my solar plexus, and finished it off with a blow below the belt. Needless to say, I passed out ...
When I opened my eyes, I saw the lady of my dreams emptying my pockets, perhaps to find identification (though, later I realised my wallet was stolen, so were my brand new underpants that I had bought from Ross: Dress for Less). The woman looked at me as I opened my eyes, and then walloped me on the face, possibly to bring me back to my senses. I passed out again ...
Four hours later, I found myself in Oakland, lying half naked (Actually fully naked except for my socks which were too stinky to be removed). I picked myself up, and walked back home ... (I borrowed some clothes from a bum who happened to like my socks and was willing to exchange his torn khakis for one of the socks). You might say, that it was a terrible day for me, but for one glimpse of that angel-woman, I would gladly face such a day. Not one, but many ...
That, my dear friends was my story.I apologise again for being so lax in putting this up as soon as I could .. .but you DO understand, do you not?

Saturday, July 31, 2004

"The beginner ... should not be discouraged if ... he finds that he does not have the prerequisites for reading the prerequisites."
P.Halmos

Halmos, incidentally was the person who introduced the notation " [] " for "hence proved".

Thursday, July 29, 2004

And so it starts again .. I've tried maintaining a weblog so many times. Seems like a 'cool' thing to do ey? But everytime I do write something, one of two things happens ... ...(a) I forget the password, or...(b) I forget the password....I'm not trying to defend myself, but this whole signing up thing, has gotten to me. I wanna sign up for this, and I wanna sign up for that, and I wanna sign up for all of this and that. I have strong reason to believe that I have had more profiles of me put up on the net than copies of pamela anderson's infamous gobbledygook with Tommy Lee. And the sad part is, that even if someone did look up my profile (and was interested in me, hallelujah!), I'd never know, cause I cant log in again. Not that I think that anybody WOULD wanna look up my profile, unless he/she was planning to adopt an orang-utan with the IQ of a cactus that has just been run over by one of George Bush's war tanks. However, there are some rather gifted men/women out there with a penchant for hooking up with creatures with subhuman intelligence. ...Let me, however, get back to the more important thing here. I want to remember passwords. Its not that I have a bad memory, its just that I cant remember anything at all. I can remember almost everything else really, other than passwords. And to make matters worse, when I type in my passwords, I cant see them. How am I supposed to remember something I havent ever seen? So I decided to write my password on a piece of paper, and gave it to a friend of mine for safekeeping (since I kept losing the piece of paper). Unfortunately, I couldnt remember who I had given the piece of paper to, and I really didnt want to offend my other friends by asking everyone (They might think that I should have trusted them and not the-snotty-nosed-halfwit) about the piece of paper with the password on it. One of my more pragmatic friends suggested that I should write it on the wall, or something of the sort. I thought that was a great idea, except that in a moment of profound creativity I had decided to paint my room a shade of green-blue. So the writing was pretty much on the wall. And then I had the best idea of all. I decided to get a tattoo of my password on the rolls of fat on my stomach. (Well, when I look at myself, thats about the only part of my body I can see, so that made a lot of sense). Now I'm all set with my password, though by now I think I have forgotten what the username for this weblog is. Maybe its time to run along and get another tattoo!...Drat! Did I forget to fill in the title field now?! ...

Sunday, February 22, 2004

An Ode to a Sari
A five to nine yards of rectangular cloth worn usually with one end wrapped about the waist to form a skirt and the other draped over the shoulder. There is much more to sari. "The Sari, it is said, was born on the loom of a fanciful weaver. He dreamt of Woman. The shimmer of her tears. The drape of her tumbling hair. The color of her many moods. The softness of her touch. All these he wove for many yards and it came out to be a sari." Janet Jackson's leather gladiator outfit,with or without WMD (wardrobe malfunction display), may have its own charms and bevies of (sun)bathing beauties with bare minimums in beaches of San-Diego may deserve an ocassional eye of interest but can they really match the sensuality of blue-chiffon sari of Sridevi in 'Kaatey Nahin Kattey'. Ila Arun's ghagra can go around Delhi seher for it's thousandth round and Nargis's 'Lal duppatta mulmul ka' may have all the flight in air it wants but the visual treat 'EK Ladki bheegi bhaagi si' of oh-so-beautiful Madhubala in sari will always win away the contest. A Sari is not just a clothing, it's Indian woman's statement to the world. For a single length of material, the sari is the most versatile garment in existence. With the myriad's of ways of wearing it, it's an instant fashion created by the wearer. Classroom of a school-teacher or the battle field of Laxmibai, pompousness of indian wedding or an ordinart street vendor's ordinary day, sari graces them all...and graces them all in style. Here is a garment that can fit any size and if worn properly can ......accentuate or conceal, and all this without a single stitch. The tieing and pleating and tucking and draping and 'pallu'ing takes it's own sweet time, the result however, is breathtakingly beautiful. Heaviest brocade Kanjeevaram silk or the lightest cotton, pastel-hued solid color or a riot of woven flowers, embroidered with golden threads, or finished with a richly tasseled border..... the designer costumes may come and go...... the classic that sari is will always shine supreme. As Keats would have said
"Thou wast not born for death, immortal Sari
No cut-n-sewn generations tread thee down;
The garment I see this passing day was seen
In ancient days by emperor and clown"
luv etc

P.S: If you happen to have £20 to spare, try reading 'Saris: An Illustrated Guide to the Indian Art of Draping'. I hear it was written after 6 years of research.

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

CON-FUSED me
Doubt thou the stars are fine
Doubt that the sun doth move
Doubt truth be a liar
But never doubt I love
-- William Shakespeare (Hamlet)

'Just friends'....someone whom you love...truely, madly, deeply, and she defines your relation thus (with a smile) "just friends" . The experience, my friends, is no less than harrowing, and when i use the word harrowing, i really mean it is like she has taken a heavily framed harrow with sharp teeth and is lacerating your heart out with relish. What afterall...is this 'just' friends? Do you graduate from a low state of friendship to the ultimate aim of love? (ever heard anyone say, " We were just lovers earlier, then we became friends"). Are friendship and love mutually exclusive or are they entirely different colors of emotions and you can have neither, either or both. How do you know you are in love with your best friend. Friendship, i hear, has to be mutual while love can be unrequited. Friendship is more reasonable, rational, logical, on some common or uncommon grounds, there is some sharing, equality of relation required. Love knows no rules. There isn't any expectation, return involved. I can't really place my two pence on the love of chaand-chakori or lailla-majnu but i certainly have seen friends who could give a tip or two on passionate all sacrifcing love even to them. But then, dont you love your friends too? Lets try to narrow down. Love, in the sense I am using it, has to be between.....assuming a 'straight' world, between persons of opposite sex. (Yes, i agree that i love my family, the neighbor kid and also the street dog, but lets not get into that now) So, how do you distinguish between your best friend who happens to be a girl and your girl-friend? Does a said or unsaid promise of marriage have to do anything with it? But then what about people who just don't want to marry. They can't love? Does Lust have a say in defining the difference? is the thin line between friendship and love thinner than the spaghetti strap? "Love is a divine feeling, You will know it once you get into it", "Love is very much like friendship, just feels a little more sexier"," you feel butterflies in your stomach", "the world changes, everything looks rosier" my friends tell me all this. Well, for now....i haven't experienced the divinity, I don't feel any sexier than i always did, there are no butterflies in or around the vicinity of the stomach and the world,as I last saw it,was in it's various shades of spectrum without any special preference to red. Everybody describes to me how especial and unique their love is (often reminds me of our three-songs-two-dialogues hindi movie actresses describing how unique their roles are ) and i would have preferred to have my love that way-extraordinary, passionate, very noticable. But either cupid,in his increasing busy-ness, has skipped me for 23 years in a row (i always wonder if cupid still came around on 14th feb say 15-20 years ago before Hallmark and Archies summoned it to do so?) or I have fallen in an entirely ordinary love, so ordinary that I did't even notice it coming. Or am I refusing to accept it? I am very happy the way of life I have, always had..lots of friends, no girl-friends. But am I not cheating my friend if thiruda-thiruda i have started loving her? Is it fair to ignore the minnale that struck? And if nothing of that sort happened ever, then.....why not me.....mera number kab aayega? I would love to be in love...i don't care if I am scorned, I dont care if I get love and then lose it, but i should get into the first act atleast. They say, "Love is like measles, all the worse when it comes late in life".....well isn't it high time I should get this measles?

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