tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58771628745225557142024-03-05T16:18:40.471-08:00The AbsolvedLogic is an inclusive set of ReasoningAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-55180192842519036872016-04-18T00:51:00.002-07:002016-04-18T00:51:41.298-07:00Kannur: At Road's End<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Quite literally the end of the road.<br /></span><div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now, to sell Blue Mermaid to you, I could exaggerate to the level where it may sound akin to poetry. But that will either be insufficient or rendered redundant. Surely, if there is ever a place which can goad you into a romantic, this is it. Yet, I will restrain my literary pursuits for another place. Along with the place I will also like to talk about the people around because a place can only be as good as its people (or the lack of it!).<br /><br />If you are on this page, you must have set your sights on Kannur. To get done with the essentials:<br /><ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>To truly enjoy – drive, ride or hike down. Train should be a distant second. Although I have overheard that an airstrip is in place, I am hoping you find flights as boring.</li>
<li>If you are travelling by train, do not take a cab. Take an auto rickshaw a.k.a. ‘tuk-tuk’, from the station. Cabs are mostly Ambassadors (Indian classic Austin) and without AC. They will charge you a bomb of Rs.500. Practically useless. The auto ricks can be pre-booked from a counter adjacent to the station’s ticket counter. They will take Re.1 to book. The rest of the money will be written in the token, which one has to pay once you are your destination. The printed amount on the token was Rs.118. It took Rs.150 to make the drivers leave contended. Deal done for an airy, fun ride. For directions, seek help from your very graceful host, Indu. Call up and put her onto your rick driver. For desperate times (read, when something has gone abjectly bust and you cannot connect with her) ask to be taken to THOTTADA beach via ADIKADALAI village market. Insist on the latter because there is another route to THOTTADA beach – one in which you take a right from THOTTADA town market. But, on the latter route, you will have to walk across a backwater to reach your destination. A walk too long to take on after a journey. So, ask to be taken to the beach via ADIKADALAI village market. You will be at your destination at the end of the road.</li>
<li>If you are a student or running on super thin budget and adventurous enough, you can even try the bus. Come out of the station on to the main road. There will be many private buses plying (really colorful ones at that!). You have to wave and ask for the place ADIKADALAI. If the conductor nods you board it. Ask them to drop you at the ADIKADALAI market bus stop. In 15-20mins you are there, all for Rs.9 per person. There will be auto ricks at the ADIKADALAI market bus stop. Ask to be dropped off at the nearest end of THOTTADA beach (hardly 2 miles from the market place). You have to take a left from the main road and wind down to the beach. Blue Mermaid is at the end of the road. It should not take more than Rs.50.</li>
<li>Alternatively, travelling by bus, you can ask for THOTTADA market. You get down there and ask a rick to take you to THOTTADA beach via ADIKADALAI market (as described above). An auto will take Rs.80.</li>
</ol>
Now that you are at Blue Mermaid, let’s talk about it. First thing you know about Blue Mermaid is that you don’t talk about Blue Mermaid!<br /><br />No, really. You don’t want to. It’s that good. You just hope, beg, pray that it doesn’t change one bit. We were there in the craziest of summers. The heat was at times unbearable and otherwise obscene. However, on my way out, I can only talk about the wonderful experience I carry forth.<br /><br />If you are looking for white collar service and luxurious hospitality, look for somewhere else – maybe The Taj, Bekal. But if you are yearning for an unforgettable experience, it has to be Blue Mermaid. Overlooking a near pristine beach, wedged between nook of a backwater and the sea, the location can get you doing this.<br /><br />Indu and Pradeep has been the most generous hosts. They have been frank and forthcoming with their limitations and hospitality. Being a culinary enthusiast myself, I have nothing but adoration and regard for Indu’s culinary skills. The chicken in coconut curry was satiating, the ginger curd was delectable and the grilled Meen fish was divine! You rock.<br /><br />I have spoken about the people and the place. Now let me put before you the place and its limitations. Let’s agree to a fact that for an experience there are extents to which you will be ready to compromise and work around a few things: <br /><ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>It’s a home stay – not a hotel, a fact that our host has made aptly clear. Do not set expectations on room service at your beck and call. But the couple of boys who run the errands for Indu are more than helpful when you ask them politely. Yes, that forgotten art of politeness – never harmed anyone and takes you places, smoothly.</li>
<li>There are 4 AC rooms and 4 non-AC rooms for two people. Except for that there’s an isolated wooden cottage, again for 2 and much envied. There’s also another larger non-AC room that can accommodate around 4 people.</li>
<li>Breakfast is complimentary and dinner is Rs.300 per head. Indu herself cooks these fantabulous delicacies. Based on your preferences the per head cost might differ if you want something special. They don’t serve lunch. You either have to inform Indu a day prior to enjoy her home-cooked delicacies. Else, you put forth what you want before her and she will arrange for the same from one of the town side restaurants.</li>
<li>If you are from abroad, you will have no qualms about the place. Enough said.</li>
<li>If you are an Indian, you will need to adjust your meal timings. You have to understand and acknowledge the fact that most of the tourists that Blue Mermaid entertains are from abroad. Majority of them belong from England but I have noticed left behind paraphernalia, in form of books and magazines, from France to Scandinavia.</li>
<li>The folks from outside usually have a strict meal regime. They have early breakfasts, skip lunch, delve in snacks and are done with their dinner by 6:30-7:00pm. If you are expecting to come down over winter or the New Year’s you will have to be amenable to these timings. You see, it’s a homestay which becomes unmanageable for Indu, if she has to cook round the clock just because someone feels like having brunch or midnight diner.</li>
<li>You might be welcome during off season or when there are no people from abroad. Till then you will have to hang on to your odd gastronomic timings. That’s why she prefers not to entertain Indians in the peak season. However, if the timings are amenable, I am sure with reasonable politeness they will welcome all and sundry. You will be getting to meet wonderful souls from across the world.<br />Iona from Leicester, it has been an absolute pleasure. What a season for the lads! This season my bet’s on them (except for the matches against us!) and do connect when in Bangalore.<br />I thought I will never see this in my life but thankfully I have met a sensible Manchester United fan at last. And that goes much beyond football. George from Manchester, I look forward to more such intriguing conversations. Check your mailbox. </li>
</ul>
Lastly, but the most important bit. See it to believe it. So, I leave you with only a whiff of the amazing we witnessed on our trip to Blue Mermaid, Kannur.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRBvEhq2K6NRPNwPTtxErFGKuV04l_EWEggeUhs4FKgBiyvgwlzLXeRnwaIPKFmfGR3sLc2_s1S-9Z7nrrWPbuUcFY8kdZSddj-iDCAnRCsYFIa-B2H2vlPOckya4Hw_lz259nq22Xr6D/s1600/IMAG2631.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdRBvEhq2K6NRPNwPTtxErFGKuV04l_EWEggeUhs4FKgBiyvgwlzLXeRnwaIPKFmfGR3sLc2_s1S-9Z7nrrWPbuUcFY8kdZSddj-iDCAnRCsYFIa-B2H2vlPOckya4Hw_lz259nq22Xr6D/s320/IMAG2631.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpW72GZWptkVvOlpxO2tSiyC1GH13kh5G3PjnEOvgB3ynSGVspgUnhmTMX1n1xeyLcCAzqJ3yBmi3_O6bHYYpW3Xx9lXelUq-BKlLsO_o9Fn5nY5h1TpwP8MH60aGNys0lOek6J4iJ_RTN/s1600/IMAG2653.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpW72GZWptkVvOlpxO2tSiyC1GH13kh5G3PjnEOvgB3ynSGVspgUnhmTMX1n1xeyLcCAzqJ3yBmi3_O6bHYYpW3Xx9lXelUq-BKlLsO_o9Fn5nY5h1TpwP8MH60aGNys0lOek6J4iJ_RTN/s320/IMAG2653.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0oSWTsDX0ZtY8RC1D9yt_s7UEOGMRy8hySIXkYrTI8GI1z6cvaO3r-c1zNfXP7GRmTyPFL74cD5VNFenIjzkFSD8651K86UsIq5LJtBGQ04linGFJDIhiIrmUV5d6vkqW24YaIt_BJH0o/s1600/P_20160408_123858_PN.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0oSWTsDX0ZtY8RC1D9yt_s7UEOGMRy8hySIXkYrTI8GI1z6cvaO3r-c1zNfXP7GRmTyPFL74cD5VNFenIjzkFSD8651K86UsIq5LJtBGQ04linGFJDIhiIrmUV5d6vkqW24YaIt_BJH0o/s320/P_20160408_123858_PN.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBR75ToZ_IC515O8wPf47jH_VjQ9MBBUocd05A5rF98UCLOEUkV39DtBgUlxvH-07zwMQzPCXk6c5T41hhRcP2Epglz-cXqS7bMokyXoPVmlkuFzwFa-S2eayKunCOqiz7Kkii5WgUY1d/s1600/IMG_5475.JPG"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBR75ToZ_IC515O8wPf47jH_VjQ9MBBUocd05A5rF98UCLOEUkV39DtBgUlxvH-07zwMQzPCXk6c5T41hhRcP2Epglz-cXqS7bMokyXoPVmlkuFzwFa-S2eayKunCOqiz7Kkii5WgUY1d/s320/IMG_5475.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgdM2tL68RvpGZOS_7glKBPKxmaa6EX26ZOIXvbGpZlqdSGGozxo9vipBi58xTEq9mRrGBybMVihQ8v7385eLtaeTs_YzbddBZQAdhGbrBjM7m9RthIvaquB4aU2CXKdHE4Elb8Evitjwb/s1600/IMG_5473.JPG"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgdM2tL68RvpGZOS_7glKBPKxmaa6EX26ZOIXvbGpZlqdSGGozxo9vipBi58xTEq9mRrGBybMVihQ8v7385eLtaeTs_YzbddBZQAdhGbrBjM7m9RthIvaquB4aU2CXKdHE4Elb8Evitjwb/s320/IMG_5473.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNOj9JZfRMD3aaOTzAj0VDp0gXM28pNkfo8jyIbvejWW7PwT0Jo1518vtpkGIQgKA3yoI9pAgdQnUaphCo9OVYEu7PEli82NYWEUzcH_Jq3S91FDBAsl5NYaUnilPTPVBOYKbP4c6Du-DE/s1600/P_20160408_162924_PN.jpg"><img 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href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU0VBtBfS7cDsX6I0D1x7a5-tTGglFwoqhert-zYlBErxBexksFsZNUQJo6xnIq-uKkXL2EBdONFLc-Kp4lBypeVwxKmvcmnVbkfYcngHeJFPWDtA0YEHbt9XTGW3hHLKdVPBqwI1PkXU4/s1600/P_20160409_174741.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU0VBtBfS7cDsX6I0D1x7a5-tTGglFwoqhert-zYlBErxBexksFsZNUQJo6xnIq-uKkXL2EBdONFLc-Kp4lBypeVwxKmvcmnVbkfYcngHeJFPWDtA0YEHbt9XTGW3hHLKdVPBqwI1PkXU4/s320/P_20160409_174741.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0DPVPlXriCS_NLiSRTQU05MhGjpoNz-9YKLs89G7S1S3oezsyNJFUIXnFHighfm_KC3MVrmLlxlHAUDFeXCavE1Ih41cX3gJDQEm9M1dYtOGCMa5BkzqVAd8qNbHNFEjNbVv1RDf5cPI/s1600/IMAG2595.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0DPVPlXriCS_NLiSRTQU05MhGjpoNz-9YKLs89G7S1S3oezsyNJFUIXnFHighfm_KC3MVrmLlxlHAUDFeXCavE1Ih41cX3gJDQEm9M1dYtOGCMa5BkzqVAd8qNbHNFEjNbVv1RDf5cPI/s320/IMAG2595.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a 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href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHoc2lRP16wMDrK6pAqDOhISX87tSg7raEKudGpi2U1TClMjIB3j75Tah4AkJ9ME7S459ZoIl6M7nN6NABqVwABrodMJ9dPJKWmhxQIiLwzTlzcUm-rcnNsI9oekEQVhvmmny2Dt0nKcL/s1600/IMAG2668.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHoc2lRP16wMDrK6pAqDOhISX87tSg7raEKudGpi2U1TClMjIB3j75Tah4AkJ9ME7S459ZoIl6M7nN6NABqVwABrodMJ9dPJKWmhxQIiLwzTlzcUm-rcnNsI9oekEQVhvmmny2Dt0nKcL/s320/IMAG2668.jpg" /></a><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thanks Indu and Pradeep. Update your calendar. We are coming back this winter.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-62646975453867887912015-08-14T00:45:00.000-07:002015-08-14T00:47:00.474-07:00Best Guess: LFC Lineup for GW2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, I will try to best-guess the lineup for LFC week-on-week and see if things add up. We play AFC Bournemouth in Game Week 2 (GW2) and I am trying to predict the lineup based on a few things we have picked up from opening GW1.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
Understanding of Away Side:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1) They possess a strong right-wing; so a decent balance of experience and legs is required to check this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2) Although overall solid, the break for goal happened from a defensive lapse through the middle</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
Understanding of Home Side:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">1) Lovren gave a solid performance against a relatively better team in GW1 which deserves a second look-in. Overall the defense looked balanced and narrow down the middle</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">2) Considering the away side is a newbie into the league and travelling, it is a good opportunity to get some part of the bench exposed to the season - especially the youth</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">3) More playing time for Benteke is obvious and immensely important</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">4) Introduction of deep-lying Can and attacking Firmino, added pace and movement through the middle, freeing up the wings a bit more.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
Considering all these I felt the following lineup looks interesting blend of solidity, experimentation and exposure. What do you think?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br />
(You can share your own from here: http://www.thisisanfield.com/)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7PySdx8T6B2yc15_UFAXONy1rAX6KaFVnG817jkdv_GE7XCwxPGjgJkGNULerVXZ62ujj4fogkvBL7x2tWwjzA_Z4W3P8d3us7esavFXqx9_rk1GpN0kUI6XuHbsf9TwzVoRwfy15g2RE/s1600/squad+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7PySdx8T6B2yc15_UFAXONy1rAX6KaFVnG817jkdv_GE7XCwxPGjgJkGNULerVXZ62ujj4fogkvBL7x2tWwjzA_Z4W3P8d3us7esavFXqx9_rk1GpN0kUI6XuHbsf9TwzVoRwfy15g2RE/s1600/squad+%25285%2529.jpg" /></a></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-65714303937664943162014-08-21T16:45:00.000-07:002014-08-24T00:33:33.826-07:00Mario Balotelli to LFC and life ahead in UEFA Champions League<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGi9U2FAZ6DTxQI9xOatffhhD_ejuvWMH6zYxE0mQZYg_0Axu3d0GqoWbYs0MFm-kNvelfOATbaSO2uJhaW3EfEzSzAbptqzBvDbUiHj4SwKGzs_GqTFWVFESeCJYXk0cPpM8-5T-BPp-/s1600/Ballotelli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGi9U2FAZ6DTxQI9xOatffhhD_ejuvWMH6zYxE0mQZYg_0Axu3d0GqoWbYs0MFm-kNvelfOATbaSO2uJhaW3EfEzSzAbptqzBvDbUiHj4SwKGzs_GqTFWVFESeCJYXk0cPpM8-5T-BPp-/s1600/Ballotelli.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>http://www.mirror.co.uk/sport/football/transfer-news/signing-mario-balotelli-could-liverpool-4085945</i></div>
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I would like to agree with Jim, here. But let's first track
back and look at the overall scenario. Balotelli is a bankable name when it
comes to business. However, if the club is looking to step up to the next
level, the key objective of BR will be - keep appearing in CL consecutively for
the next 3-4 seasons. Then, the scenarios we are looking at are:<br />
<br />
<b>SCENARIO #1</b><br />
75% lesser tally of goals can do but we cannot afford to allow more than 60% of
the goals conceded last season.<br />
<b><i>RATIONALE:</i></b><i> </i>I am taking a comparative look at AM's
2013-14 season. The similarities abound. They were in the hunt and it was their
stand-out season. Our scoring rate was 2.26 while conceding at 1.40 per game.
They were much tighter. They scored at the rate of 1.62 per game but conceded
less than a goal every game, 0.82 to be exact. Comparatively, across the season
RM scored at a rate much higher - a phenomenal 2.67 per game, they also
conceded 0.78. But that's largely due to their impeccable CL run. In league,
however, they conceded 1 goal per game, which meant, even when they had the a
scoring rate of 2.74 (higher than their season average) and goal difference
almost 30% better than AM, they conceded the league and had to settle for 3rd
place.<br />
Getting back to EPL, checkout MC's comparable scoring rate of 2.68 per game
(compare with RM) but appreciably thrifty 0.97 rate of conceding per game
(compare with AM).<br />
<br />
<b>SCENARIO #2</b><br />
Suarez accounted for 32% of the total goals scored last season. As reasoned in
previous scenario, we need 75% of what we scored last season in EPL and 25% of
it in CL, so that we can play CL 2015-16.<br />
<b><i>RATIONALE:</i></b> This is again comparable to AM's scenario. They
had a 99 goal season (excluding 5 own goals). So, if we score say 75-80 odd
next season and an additional 20-25 in rest of the tournaments, we have a
decent chance, considering the above scenario is met. Are we in a position to
accomplish that? Let's see.<br />
If i write off 31 goals and 12 assists of Suarez, we have 54 goals. With
Lallana (G-9+A-5), Balotelli (G-13+A-6), Lambert (G-13+A-10) and a much
improved Sterling (G-9+A-5) we have a possible 44 goal an 26 assist cover. This
quite fits the Scenario #1.<br />
Also, consider this - Serie A as a league has top 6 teams conceding only 21% of
total goals scored in the league to around 23% in EPL, 24% in La Liga and 25%
in Bundesliga. Similarly, the top 6 in Serie A accounted for 40% of total goals
scored whereas it was 43% in EPL-Bundesliga and 47% in La Liga. Guess how many
goals JUV conceded per match in the entire season? 0.65 per match! Better than
anybody else across the 4 leagues!<br />
Essentially, top teams of Serie A find it tougher to score compared to EPL or
La Liga. So, it can be expected that a striker coming out of the Serie A
scenario can get more opportunities to score. It will not be unfair to expect
Balotelli's scoring form to be much better.<br />
<br />
<b>SCENARIO #3</b><br />
So, we will need a strike force which individually is comparable to any team,
but cumulatively accounts for 60-65% of all goals scored in the season. Also,
we need to know how the defence can contribute 10-15% of the tally while
ensuring the goal cover needed. How do we compare?<br />
<b><i>RATIONALE:</i></b> Learn from JUV. 5 of their defenders were on
scoreboard last season - more than 4 each for AM, LIV, MC and RM. They gave
them 12 goals - more than that from the defenses of AM, LIV and RM. Add to that
their fresh additional/substitute legs for a rock solid defence. Did they fare
well? They qualified for the 7th straight CL season, didn't they?<br />
Now, consider the squad. If we consider how many scorers shared the team's
season goal tally, this is how it looks - MC-14, AM-17, JUV-17 and BAY-16.
Guess what LIV's looked like - 13! Post season this number is now down to 7.
Suarez, Agger, Moses and Aspas (believe it or not he scored 1 in FA cup!) are
gone. Considering the new entrants like Mario, Lallana, Lambert, Lovren, Markovic
and Moreno fire - we still have only 12 potential goal scorers. We need a
defensive dynamo more than anything else!<br />
Finally, about the forward line. MC, AM and JUV employed 4, 5 & 6 FWs
respectively to carry the burden of 55-60% of the tally. Guess how many LIV
had? 2 (I am rightfully ignoring Aspas' single goal season). You might say,
'But BAY had 2 too - Mandzukic and Pizzaro'. My answer is, well, none of the
teams mentioned here had a MF 9 of whose members scored across the season. AM
went nearest and they had a scorer list of 8 MFs.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>SCENARIO #4</b><br />
How does Balotelli's career track look like vis-a-vis the best in business as
an out-and-out SK and on that basis, what can we expect?<br />
<b><i>RATIONALE:</i></b> To fully predict Mario Balotelli's influence in
LIV's quest to survive in top 4 - which will eventually aid them in acquiring
more 'marquee' signings in 2-3 subsequent seasons - we should take a look at
some most influential SK's in modern era and how they have performed with age.
Why age? Because performance level has a well known correlation with age of any
sportsman, especially in the world of contact sports. Then, what better than
comparing with the best? They are Messi (27yrs), Ronaldo (29yrs), Suarez
(27yrs) & Aguero (26yrs). Mario is 24.<br />
Also, as a SK there is a primary objective of scoring goals and two secondary
objectives a. creating actual goals (not opportunities) and b. ability to stay
fit or eligible to play for the team maximum amount of time.<br />
Here we take a look at few figures in graphical format for an easier overview.<br />
i) The graph below shows the appearances of these five players across their
age.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclLP4SsSGg7sv8I1BZ5sU8iUEhJqN0aLD5K0bBcPwWdMpNbP94HbTj_hZMuCMKfaeQtyny_dVq9vnrfSDKQrlufyARBYyOJuN_oqGgukQKqyBKbgi5nWCr8FX22xEQ8inpd7DW4IHXjRw/s1600/01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclLP4SsSGg7sv8I1BZ5sU8iUEhJqN0aLD5K0bBcPwWdMpNbP94HbTj_hZMuCMKfaeQtyny_dVq9vnrfSDKQrlufyARBYyOJuN_oqGgukQKqyBKbgi5nWCr8FX22xEQ8inpd7DW4IHXjRw/s1600/01.jpg" height="181" width="400" /></a></div>
It is interesting to notice the
almost optimized appearance level of Suarez. Trust me this is because of not
being able to play in a team in CL. He deserves to be in one and I am not going
to cry over spilt milk. Similar trend is seen for Mario as well. But that's
more to do with his on field transgressions and attitude which has been
vilified by many coaches and pundits. Having said that, remember, he is a good 2-3
years younger to Messi, Suarez and Aguero. In essence he has these years to
mature. So, when his agent MIno Raiola advises Mario, "Make it or break it",
he knows that in its truest sense.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
ii) The following graph shows the number of goals and assists that these
maestros have gifted their respective team with age.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdFwUWbXBqXx2vwOrG5RDoUjWvQP3RzDUz_1m2R9Ubusf8byYixHVJV9D76sVRJFKtviznEm4knF6y3fPOP8a8M-FzWQXf4Mq78l5wK4n1SsOYy559a4qxy5f1IAEt8Njx8nIJQCVytZ6d/s1600/02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdFwUWbXBqXx2vwOrG5RDoUjWvQP3RzDUz_1m2R9Ubusf8byYixHVJV9D76sVRJFKtviznEm4knF6y3fPOP8a8M-FzWQXf4Mq78l5wK4n1SsOYy559a4qxy5f1IAEt8Njx8nIJQCVytZ6d/s1600/02.jpg" height="196" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let's put aside Suarez's unbelievable
season at Ajax. What's interesting to note here is that Aguero - a more gentle
character, in fact has a marginally better future than the former. Balotelli's
trend is also comparable but at a lower scale which is attributable to the
trials and tribulations while playing for MANCs. But is this scale comparable
to EPL? In comparison to previous graph, the following one takes into account
the rate at which these players impacted the team outings. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwoI4_ZesQBa5yWZ_QW-V-2-MI7zamOWmTJRsFIzqom5fR46UYfJQ8D8Htcj6J_L6g7OURX3INGddKkYiDXqOua6hYUuBz59SlbdFsQ3xnnJDpw5rIQZecQaYiY5poj8kNmtMD_2X00vn/s1600/03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwoI4_ZesQBa5yWZ_QW-V-2-MI7zamOWmTJRsFIzqom5fR46UYfJQ8D8Htcj6J_L6g7OURX3INGddKkYiDXqOua6hYUuBz59SlbdFsQ3xnnJDpw5rIQZecQaYiY5poj8kNmtMD_2X00vn/s1600/03.jpg" height="191" width="400" /></a></div>
Now the picture clears up a bit more.
Mario's ability to score or create goals per match is at par and comparable to
likes of Ronaldo, Suarez and Aguero, over the last two seasons. This means an
issue of consistency - a problem area for BR to sort out. This is not new to
him and nothing different to Suarez's scenario couple of seasons back (which he
did manage to sort out to an appreciable extent).<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
iii) Finally, if we look at the sheer scoring ability as a SK as in the
following chart, we find Messi and Ronaldo miles ahead. So, we will restrict
our comparison of Mario to Suarez and Aguero.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9j4nojtyQo4h9QJ9m7fZ68SA2OiWkx7r4QpsW5T-WPjRdfhtGIenaI7BRgG2gTSGBfRKoXUfSXgu1gMml-c6Tu8pELm5tR0NnRjkXc7jEZQMJD1WB0EngBAhMf8WezL__XneeHazrLImt/s1600/04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9j4nojtyQo4h9QJ9m7fZ68SA2OiWkx7r4QpsW5T-WPjRdfhtGIenaI7BRgG2gTSGBfRKoXUfSXgu1gMml-c6Tu8pELm5tR0NnRjkXc7jEZQMJD1WB0EngBAhMf8WezL__XneeHazrLImt/s1600/04.jpg" height="191" width="400" /></a></div>
Here, too, we find Aguero's striking
trend much better than that of Suarez. Really? Not exactly. Let's look at the rate
of their scoring per match. Hola! Suarez rises above rest to join the top 2.
But this isn't a true picture either. We haven't seen him play as many matches
in a season as Aguero. To fathom, refer back to the first chart of appearances.
So, at peak fitness there's trouble for any European big clubs playing against
MANCs with a relentless SK running behind their lines.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
What about Mario? Not so much really.
He's a SK who might improve but greatness is something better left for Messi's
and Ronaldo's to be born with.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To sum up, we Scousers, still need to hunt for another 15-20
goals per season striker and a defensive dynamo who can shadow Skrtel.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-52411448290073792112013-09-06T02:22:00.001-07:002013-09-06T02:22:19.919-07:00Program<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<img height="280" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-d-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn1/s720x720/388672_10150936393330324_1836404202_n.jpg" width="400" /><br /><br />Win + R<br />winword<br />Enter<br />Ctrl + A<br />Ctrl + C<br />Ctrl + V<br />Enter<br /><br />Win + R<br />iexplore<br />Enter<br />Shift + â<br />Ctrl + C<br />Alt + Tab<br />Ctrl + V<br />Backspace<br />it depends.<br />Ctrl + S<br />Enter<br />Ctrl + A<br />Ctrl + C<br />Ctrl + V<br />Enter<br />Ctrl + A<br />Ctrl + C<br />Ctrl + V<br />Enter<br />Ctrl + A<br />Ctrl + C<br />Ctrl + V<br />Ctrl + S<br />Ctrl + A<br />Delete<br />Alt + F4<br />Tab<br />Enter<br />***<br /><br />Shift + Del</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-31314881495991859422013-03-14T05:47:00.000-07:002013-03-14T05:47:22.397-07:00Kal Ekush - A tribute to revolutionary poet Sukanta Bhattacharya<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sukanta Bhattacharya is synonymous with revolution in Bengali culture and literature. His fiery narratives and inspiring declamations on the decaying human society around him is incomparable. Considering all these voluminous works were within a diminutive 21 years of blazing existence - the extents he could have attained (if he lived longer) is well imaginable. But better not. Maybe age would have mellowed him down. Family responsibilities would have made him compromise more often. Maybe forever hammering of this boorish, 'bollywoodish' world we call exciting, would have made him docile and slaves of time - just like us, the way we are today. Quite clearly his relevance even to this day is unavoidable.<br /><br />This is our tribute to his undying spirit, with which we seek to touch others'. Here is a little bit Sukanta, as we discovered, in all of us. We fought, got frustrated, gave it up, dared to compose own script and our own music (Yes! We have lent music to 3 poems of Sukanta. Please don't copy our music! Get inspired, everybody else does! :P) got back, tried hard and got this done. Thanks to everyone of us. Hope you enjoy it and get inspired.<br /><br />Keep revolting every time!<br /><br />*****<br />P.S: Bouquets and brickbats are earnestly invited. These will come in 5 parts -- so watch out for all! Cheers!</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/LcBNJvm1i6w?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com2Basanta Bihar, Methibruz, Belgharia, Kolkata, West Bengal 700056, India22.662581227405223 88.37994575500488322.662123227405225 88.379315255004883 22.663039227405221 88.380576255004883tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-90000591237552430852012-11-09T02:04:00.000-08:002012-11-09T02:06:08.717-08:00Real<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAo5WnIJGj1RBRPgm0TU2sAo1ONz6HSQv9ov7zc2t7yZ53TzeMn4ueKM1fKNylj5VEnBoLpimRMHf3JU9Prc9e_kph1I-8sg9giXRL_oTNA-iD8du5o5_dGea5zhl0vL-EVb0UXdukvsBn/s1600/Real.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAo5WnIJGj1RBRPgm0TU2sAo1ONz6HSQv9ov7zc2t7yZ53TzeMn4ueKM1fKNylj5VEnBoLpimRMHf3JU9Prc9e_kph1I-8sg9giXRL_oTNA-iD8du5o5_dGea5zhl0vL-EVb0UXdukvsBn/s320/Real.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are real.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are the one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today I speak to you –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I give myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let this build –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Within, whatever I am.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A slow a kill it is.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A slow pill it is.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your music moves –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Moves my bones<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Till they melt to water<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And rains down<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will quench myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The symphony renders psychedelic,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The tenor sounds clear and sound.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your magnificence screams through.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is but an adoration of my love.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is a confession of my hidden fears.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What do you know of my unrest?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The unrest that shatters through –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This moment of my unpleasant dream<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You stand there laughing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Laughing at my ignorance –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I repent my inability.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your rotting bread,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your blessed grass,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your roughened sword,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your perennial scar –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Etched on my very being,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I fall in despair –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The unknowing –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The unforgiving,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The forsaken –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The dying…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I twist and turn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I quell and I burn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I seek peace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I miss –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The very reason you sent me unto.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your sun burns me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your rains does console at times.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The freeze embitters me –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Till it mellows in watering frost<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And yet I complain.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I complain of variety.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I shred my sobriety.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I lay down motionless –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Inert in my senses,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Till you send the thunder of passion –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It rains down on my inglorious being.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am but just a ‘faqir’ <o:p></o:p>–</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am but an absolved soul.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Off your generous abode<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cursed to haunt this very land you promised,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And yet I lay at ease.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have got nothing to ask for.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have nothing to cry upon.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have no remittance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have no home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In this wide world you left –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I roam wherever I belong.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And whenever I feel bereft,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whenever I feel undone,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hold on to my straining nerves.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And I say –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am your puppet<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are my puppeteer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
*****</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-75513911711467068082010-11-01T13:36:00.000-07:002010-11-01T14:11:39.810-07:00'Machete' in 'Green Zone'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkMGeR0wssxusCQjbi7PDIBU64HDQUrAVoh9kPAho_WV5ZemS4n2AJ27steKmqO7z0UkTC7ecoJC0qyARFloQydC4WfZkZC6BmoWBNMiIJvPiJfQGvj6qo_Vmkij-BRsWi6B_VheVohbal/s1600/Machete+in+Green+Zone.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkMGeR0wssxusCQjbi7PDIBU64HDQUrAVoh9kPAho_WV5ZemS4n2AJ27steKmqO7z0UkTC7ecoJC0qyARFloQydC4WfZkZC6BmoWBNMiIJvPiJfQGvj6qo_Vmkij-BRsWi6B_VheVohbal/s400/Machete+in+Green+Zone.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">There are good movies and then there are great ones. After a long time I had the time to watch two movies over the weekend. My friend must be pretty pissed on me for wasting the time (we have a moral contract, will get back to that later). But all said and done instincts cannot be messed with.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So, getting back to two back-to-back movies – ‘Green Zone’ and ‘Machete’, I found something profoundly lacking and that was greatness. In fact, I plan to watch ‘Nouvo Cinema Paradiso’ tonight to get over the hangover I got from these two movies. I take them one by one and try to explain why some great movies, like them both, do not match up the greatness of like the one I am about to watch.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The Tarantino effect, post ‘Grind House’ and ‘Planet Terror’ association, the Frank Miller influenced composition after ‘Sin City’, is as stark as a death knell. Over the top action sequence, masterfully choreographed and generously doused in graphic violence adds up to one final outcome – rambunctious action flick and Rodriguez back with pugnacious vengeance!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">‘Green Zone’ is again a cleverly crafted conspiracy theory revolving round WMD (Weapons of Mass Destruction) rumors that were blown out of proportions way back in Sr. Bush regime in US. Cutting the chase to present day brouhaha in the Middle-East, post-Saddam fiasco, Matt Damon portrays a protagonist atypical of his erstwhile hugely popular Jason Bourne character. The best things about the movie are the locals and the cinematography – it is believable and at the same time catches your imagination. The effort towards continuity of the character is also poignant as he lives to see another day – much alike the Jason Bourne, we so like!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So, what exactly I found missing in them? As I said, it is greatness. When ‘Reservoir Dogs’ and ‘The Bourne Identity’ came around the concepts were fresh, original and much experiment in treatment was explored. However, what we see in both these movies are off-shoots. Frankly speaking, I dig stylized action flicks, as any other normal individual. But unlike, I hate just putting on the icing rather than just baking a whole new cake!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Then again, the contexts are so done to death. We definitely do not need another post-war, American ‘I-was-so-dumb-after-9/11’ realization story, questioning the very nature of US military exploits in the Gulf. And hell knows we do not need another punch of desperado – that too when it gets uglier. So, let us just leave those two topics and think beyond.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Look at ‘The Hurt Locker’ (you need to catch it on Sony Pix over this month if you have missed it). It is fresh, alive and projects an all together different perspective concerning the Middle-East – the uncertainties and fragility surrounding the human spirit when in the land of snipers. Every day there is something new. I hate it when well rounded directors along with backing of commercial success in recent past, has to shoot such relative pieces-of-crap. Then just need to read Google news everyday and everyday they can have one fresh relevant topic to research, orchestrate and project.</span></div><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But until then, you might as well stick to these two junks, for hell, except for likes of Anrag Kashyap, Dev Benegal and Amol Gupte, you should not be trying Bollywood now-a-days!</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-41754988545261066832010-04-12T13:54:00.000-07:002010-11-01T13:39:41.620-07:00Sharon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkCStIelVU-jZOHXETMErtpkZIsxe1hnPEZb9Ah5GcI7xgXXgzSvnk3nmhdzGN_VfIffl52PxkN5GlHdyAe2z4C_6_JdTl_v3TW8qpF1uXXjs06UAPDo512_hScoYPrqrCwEQaIXqhoID/s1600/BS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkCStIelVU-jZOHXETMErtpkZIsxe1hnPEZb9Ah5GcI7xgXXgzSvnk3nmhdzGN_VfIffl52PxkN5GlHdyAe2z4C_6_JdTl_v3TW8qpF1uXXjs06UAPDo512_hScoYPrqrCwEQaIXqhoID/s320/BS.jpg" width="249" wt="true" /></a></div><br />
Thousands of years I trod – as I tread this walk of life –<br />
From the depths kissing the Lankan crest –<br />
Far, further ahead into the darkning Malayan depths.<br />
I have made the distance.<br />
My feet has smelt the greying sands of Asoka's land, Bimbisaar.<br />
I have walked through the darkness of Vidarbha.<br />
A tired soul am I –<br />
All around me the froth, so lively, brims over.<br />
But, for a moment’s breath you bequeathed unto me –<br />
Suddenly, Sharon.<br />
<br />
Her hair – lost, like lost day’s darkest nights,<br />
Her face sculptured timeless – flawless, granite.<br />
For puzzled Ulysses and his rudderless ship,<br />
The tempt of the sirens, in his eyes –<br />
Unto the green shores – deep inside the cinnamon island…<br />
<br />
My eyes have touched her, thus – through the darkness.<br />
And she has asked, “Where have you been so long?”<br />
All, as she looked up through the naked forest of her dark eyelashes,<br />
It was you, Sharon.<br />
<br />
In the sound of dews – the night ascends.<br />
The birds of prey shed feathers drenched of sunshine.<br />
As The Light of world dims away –<br />
The storybook comes alive.<br />
Then unto the fireflies, nights glitter anxious.<br />
<br />
The birds return home –<br />
The rivers too –<br />
Encore Life!<br />
<br />
Darkness remains –<br />
The face –<br />
Sharon.<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
<i>(A relatively literal translation: My tribute unto the greatest work of Jibanananda Das – ‘Banalata Sen'. Some parts of it are twisted – based on my limited understanding. But with eons of languages apart, I guess it is important that the metaphors stand out starkly. However, this is nowhere close to the oceans of symbolism in his original. Add to that a few other gratifying suggestions as well! The bengali version follows.).</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2yBNByXhj_XlWJodOY-sqAwlXY3EHN-tn-LHCKzSpQko6VUAOtgEKnz-PhkWXegyzCWS1eQAEVXazg8DjherhqKe8aW8E-2XhRQZ45z0MOEaVv1kmiP1_V2_7TNZFDi03_YQjaJeYVyO/s1600/BS+Beng.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2yBNByXhj_XlWJodOY-sqAwlXY3EHN-tn-LHCKzSpQko6VUAOtgEKnz-PhkWXegyzCWS1eQAEVXazg8DjherhqKe8aW8E-2XhRQZ45z0MOEaVv1kmiP1_V2_7TNZFDi03_YQjaJeYVyO/s400/BS+Beng.jpg" width="400" wt="true" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-34865909875799412262009-06-03T13:36:00.000-07:002010-11-01T14:12:12.545-07:00Cytoplasm<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizD5C19zu9oANwxybeMe1ao8ZGGrScWWLDYCguE7GlV-__R50IAFlsmSbpQ7RjMO_9YaCb0iw1qkp-sxbN5kyYXRQucDbo0rIGuV0hvVHgffBalPi_5HmzDWqDwjnR4AU86McyKzPzLnrI/s1600-h/SLAVE.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343203570053922978" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizD5C19zu9oANwxybeMe1ao8ZGGrScWWLDYCguE7GlV-__R50IAFlsmSbpQ7RjMO_9YaCb0iw1qkp-sxbN5kyYXRQucDbo0rIGuV0hvVHgffBalPi_5HmzDWqDwjnR4AU86McyKzPzLnrI/s400/SLAVE.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 360px;" /></a><br />
<div>It is not often I sit down to write – to write something substantial. Neither do I sit down to write something substantial all the time. However, there are things that every person cannot help. It might be active or passive reaction but the constant factor here is that reaction, which for me is writing.<br />
When I first noticed the man on the footbridge, in close proximity to my place, he hardly occurred to me. Then I saw him again and never turned back – I was on my way to my workplace in the morning. The third time is the day I sit down to write this.<br />
The usual after-dinner walk was a wholesome affair for me for all the wrong reasons and a perceived healthy routine. I never realized till now that it was a purposive attempt to see the unimaginable or rather the unavoidable aspects that creep through the shadows and stand out starkly under the dim neon haze.<br />
He could be a man just like you and me. He could be a father, a husband, a grandfather or even a ‘nobody’. He could be a deranged, a homeless, a loner or an egoist. Yet, to me he looked a sixty something aged person with silver hair and unkempt beard. Disheveled full-sleeve brown shirt and a soiled crème pant over brown socks and brown leather, affordable quality shoe unworn under his dangling feet, he sat there on the damp staircase after a well showered evening in Kolkata.<br />
There was nothing unusual about him as compared to millions of homeless in this city. Yet, there was a certain control about his stature as he sat on the sideway. That is when a bystander’s presence strikes a passerby’s imagination. It is more so, if the passerby is a voracious reader, affirmer and applier of deductive reasoning as proposed by Arthur Conan Doyle, through his gigantic literary character.<br />
He could be a man kicked out of his home by his children or grandchildren for all the several causes that may be easily construed. He might be a madman whom his family members got tired dealing with. He might be an egoist who just could not take any form of mediocrity by his own standards from the people with whom he dwelled. However, definitely, with mosquito netting, shawl and a well-covered pillow you cannot be just another loner or just another vagabond. You have to be put in that position to be there.<br />
An abject violence of humane society norms it was found revolting to the psyche of a social individual as me.</div><div>*****</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-19154972768561248632009-02-28T13:25:00.000-08:002010-11-01T13:43:35.695-07:00AmazingThis is to keep a tab on what happened today post quarter to one a.m.<br />
<br />
After a nightlong party at 'Not just Jazz by the bay' three of us end up at Bade Miyan for food. I go to the the nearby HDFC ATM for money for that's where my salary A/C is. I find a card of 'Sukena S_ne Chant' Card No. 4386 2425 0150 0080. I ask my friends to come over to the ATM as witness. They come. I ask ATM guard for Customer Care No. and he gives me 2856 1818 which is useless. I call up 100 and nobody answers.<br />
I go to the the nearest police officer near Taj Mr. Saukener (Mob. No. +919773094304) and deposit the ATM Card. My friends leave for home before me. I go to Churchgate station and take a taxi for home but think of taking the card no. and name of the person.<br />
I go back to Taj. Contact Mr. Saukener and wait to get the no. Get the details and call back to confirm that I will be available for any help.<br />
This is to let know whosoever it may concern that I did what I thought was right and will be available for any assistance.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-26600291478946286042009-01-25T14:46:00.001-08:002010-11-01T14:12:51.221-07:00On Love<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKBWz6MHrw6wIO9yqsFSDe5pMb68sZ6r3R9xegj5OFjixpNB9wjm_wPyD4CLV49DLcKi7NwhtwEeeJPV40A4D6oKPvGaR7UQYRNzz7-CyH3PE4Wmp6kcj9H8gaStLBEm4aGfhHqEfxT7Q/s1600-h/6.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295366784730039618" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKBWz6MHrw6wIO9yqsFSDe5pMb68sZ6r3R9xegj5OFjixpNB9wjm_wPyD4CLV49DLcKi7NwhtwEeeJPV40A4D6oKPvGaR7UQYRNzz7-CyH3PE4Wmp6kcj9H8gaStLBEm4aGfhHqEfxT7Q/s320/6.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 256px;" /></a> What is love?<br />
<br />
How easily we utter this monosyllable. How easy it is to profess the same. How difficult is it to realize that. How seemingly impossible it is to get it for the same. Sad but true - as the sandman might say. But then none of us are sandman, none of us are superman - none of us know the answer to the question.<br />
<br />
Sometimes love seems like a leap of faith. Sometimes it feels like life itself. Truely, what is life worth unless you have known what it is like to love somebody. What is it worth if you haven't been loved back?<br />
<br />
Unfortunatley or fortunately these are unwritten rules which nobody has ever read. So, it is near impossible to figure out. Here, those who tend to differ, mind you, fortune is only perceptual. The ones lucky enough will know the sweet pain of longing. Those who are unfortunate enough will never know the way the first pure love can exist over a lifetime - maybe beyond.<br />
<br />
We are only human. And there is only so much a human can realize. I cannot force it.<br />
<br />
<em>"Chahe kitna bhi pyaar ki bheekh maang lo, sajde karo ya cheen-ne ki koshish karo - pyaar nahi milta. Par kya tum kisiko itna pyaar kar sakte ho ki woh bhi pyaar karne pe majboor ho jaaye?"</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>(No matter how much you beg, plead or force for love - you will never get it. But can you love somebody so much that the person can do nothing but love as much?)</em><br />
<br />
Maybe it is true... who knows?<br />
<br />
*****Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-45362357787845244592008-12-16T08:19:00.000-08:002010-11-01T14:13:22.667-07:00Salaam Bombay<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMLXaCM8v__v5skVhwI4DAs_eZeRL61xC_W4xE9KXeH9gxpkUg9SEMQFKMNeGN6g48JwlIhVpX0aiHSderkKsrevIYhM6CfUgu1fT_5h1YlcxymtytJ_BRza-1JFLnZczOcdpbwODdnpQ/s1600-h/bnw-carlisle-umunna-nigeria-biafra-war-child-casualty-3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280426852211586562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMLXaCM8v__v5skVhwI4DAs_eZeRL61xC_W4xE9KXeH9gxpkUg9SEMQFKMNeGN6g48JwlIhVpX0aiHSderkKsrevIYhM6CfUgu1fT_5h1YlcxymtytJ_BRza-1JFLnZczOcdpbwODdnpQ/s320/bnw-carlisle-umunna-nigeria-biafra-war-child-casualty-3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 227px;" /></a><br />
<div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Salaam <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Bombay</st1:place></st1:city><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I try so much to think of loving you,</div><div class="MsoNormal">And I fail miserably –</div><div class="MsoNormal">Like the lone child on the street side.</div><div class="MsoNormal">For I cannot see through</div><div class="MsoNormal">Descending acrid smoke of burning flesh</div><div class="MsoNormal">I can’t turn my eyes away from the child –</div><div class="MsoNormal">Its flesh ripped and shred of impact</div><div class="MsoNormal">As he sits there, over the charred remains</div><div class="MsoNormal">Of its inconsequential social connect.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I cannot see how we all are not thus orphaned,</div><div class="MsoNormal">For where I stand – what I see</div><div class="MsoNormal">Everybody has been stripped bare –</div><div class="MsoNormal">Down to the inherited, bestial flesh and blood</div><div class="MsoNormal">I try hard to look through the chaos</div><div class="MsoNormal">Of uncertain lives fleeing in anticipation</div><div class="MsoNormal">I try hard to recollect our dreams, in my mind.</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the smoke stings, it pains so bad – so deep.</div><div class="MsoNormal">This earth, a sky seems unimaginably shattered</div><div class="MsoNormal">And through all this – my dear</div><div class="MsoNormal">I silently cry out loud to you</div><div class="MsoNormal">I kneel before you my beloved.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I pray to you – pull back the reins of time</div><div class="MsoNormal">And put me two moments before</div><div class="MsoNormal">The unforgiven, unwilling child of human wrath burst.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For a moment I will see the child lisp in its mother’s lap.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For a moment I will look up and bid goodbye to you.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Come to me now – my beloved,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For I try so hard to think of loving you.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal">________________________________</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-65744742045833872812008-12-05T03:53:00.000-08:002010-11-01T14:14:09.205-07:00Under the Shadow of Terror<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4UvagwZTyXojh7cB1BahH9DU0S2lUZkwkt7FClp4Ar9K3Q6HWoPRr9U9x_VxdSE6lRQqL7SKqnRNXlaoL4RrFLd8aagi11rPfQfJd1-pB2A1_x3FS-5WjHzhlg_f2DN6iIzFs-iEc8hFX/s1600-h/4808AS13x.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SE7WH3rp-1rG5O8UjliOCE0OvGPlOCJXyRIAYbaEGA-IUGGxzZr9-jGGDLWSjB5Qch5d9Vq9t8-V-pheBSmIqO4SUVrsfftZ7c4pQBhlwF2FPiOvkUgppibfLctrnq1dfHmurlLu2yIb/s1600-h/29mumbai_600a.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276275705022233426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5SE7WH3rp-1rG5O8UjliOCE0OvGPlOCJXyRIAYbaEGA-IUGGxzZr9-jGGDLWSjB5Qch5d9Vq9t8-V-pheBSmIqO4SUVrsfftZ7c4pQBhlwF2FPiOvkUgppibfLctrnq1dfHmurlLu2yIb/s320/29mumbai_600a.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 177px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a> <br />
<div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u>Noise Unlimited<o:p></o:p></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>Whatever now remains is like Noise - in its true definition. There are two sides to it.</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>1. People responsible for their carelessness and unprepared ness - they are generating the noise while curbing the real 'voice' viz. the dictate from the Govt. that media should no more broadcast videos of the attack - is that to keep people from disturbing images or do they know it too well that Indian mind is like black board - a stroke of duster and the chalk of calamity wiped off? Are the resignations, comments, opinions, vague statements sounding like boardroom 'global gyan' ('We will not tolerate terrorist tactics...' and like) worth the hoopla surrounding them? Really, have there been any actionable reactions? Something like, 'we have appointed XYZ to set up a committee which will plan and blue-print for a Federal Intelligence Agency of India', would have meant at least something. I fail to understand how feminine FMCGs could become talk of the hour - lord save the sanctity and sanity of our Media houses. Did they really find, even the person who indulged in such pithy remarks, worthy enough to be splashed over prime time news?</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">2. People who are subject to these propagandas - they end up taking sides. What have they got anyway? They only have choices and nothing like the best candidate or the rightful leader. They just choose the next best thing and end up where they were by the end of another 5 years. Just like stray dogs - they stray, they are shown the biscuit, they go to the vote machine wagging their tails, they sit waiting like a loyal dog, no matter they get kicked all along, then the 'eater' finishes off and the dog begins to look for another 'eater'. At times they will be stupid enough to follow that same 'eater' around.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The first kind confuses and the latter one is politically, socially and emotionally illiterate enough to be easily confused. In the end we have exactly what my title states and reflect the present state of affairs - Noise Unlimited...</div></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-DlWvh98bSm8aGC8OBbJH0t9kS_pzd54v1CvfyfPQc9VcsE1M7jYtX8-Xp60tcM0PlDdkTGyOmBTyCQw0XX2vxLym7QzCDFLr7KN0zPZiUHRLaoNlTFy-_tUBx-5KAjV7syBuQ0TurQzV/s1600-h/6885279.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276275531671014482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-DlWvh98bSm8aGC8OBbJH0t9kS_pzd54v1CvfyfPQc9VcsE1M7jYtX8-Xp60tcM0PlDdkTGyOmBTyCQw0XX2vxLym7QzCDFLr7KN0zPZiUHRLaoNlTFy-_tUBx-5KAjV7syBuQ0TurQzV/s320/6885279.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 211px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a> <br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">Leopold Back-calculation</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p>Nothing has changed much. People just want to get high before they are on a higher plane. They fail to flatter themselves. It is not that easy. The terror is unimaginable.</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p>I look at these people congregated or rather accumulated at Leopold tonight, and I am unexcited. It is only natural to be egoistic. It is only natural to be nationalistic. But what really matters is – what do you really believe in.</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p>I did my inquisition. The inherent fear of life sustenance is unquestionable (I just hate that I cannot write this in layman’s terms; I wish somebody did). Everybody hid in fear when the firecrackers became gun-shots in reality. I doubt if anyone else would have done otherwise – even with a bullet-proof armor on them.</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I wonder what might have happened that day. I can but only wonder. But still, if I have that, I’ll stay with it because that is the only thing I have got to justify myself – about the way I feel. And that is just the way everybody of you reading this feels. So, stop lying to yourself!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276276142938916450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4UvagwZTyXojh7cB1BahH9DU0S2lUZkwkt7FClp4Ar9K3Q6HWoPRr9U9x_VxdSE6lRQqL7SKqnRNXlaoL4RrFLd8aagi11rPfQfJd1-pB2A1_x3FS-5WjHzhlg_f2DN6iIzFs-iEc8hFX/s320/4808AS13x.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 175px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u>Mumbai Burns<o:p></o:p></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>I am not Marathi, I am not Mumbaiyya. I am a simple citizen, another unknown Indian, who just happens to be professionally based out of Mumbai. And I feel violated.</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I feel I have got everything to do with this calculated inhumanity on display for the last 60+ hours. I have never faced this upfront but now I do and I am going to do something about it. I have to speak out. I am not of that mettle to keep myself closed in the boundaries of a job, a family, few friends and four walls which keep changing.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">There a few things that I hate but I hate them unfailingly and it seems it is not going to change for quite sometime now.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I do not accept to live under the shadow of the gun.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I do not want those people walking on this earth who have murder on their minds.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I do not want my near and dear ones to be terrorized.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I do not accept that a country like ours do not have an intelligence net.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">But most of all – I hate the lousiness of some people who say, ‘What can I do?’</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Money, stature, family commitments, professional pressure, relationships they don’t matter. In fact, when these very things are under fire – I do not believe we have got any justification of sitting back, thanking fate for saving us and waiting for the carnage to get over so that we can get back to work next morning like worms crawling across the dingiest filth on the face of this earth.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I defy those who call this ‘the undying Mumbai spirit’. I call this apathy, indifference and overall irresponsibility as an Indian and as a human being.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">More than 190 people dead – that too only officially, three times that injured and an overall atmosphere of unwelcome fear looming ominously over Mumbai. We cannot keep saying that ‘Mumbai has won’; because it hasn’t. The terrorists have won – not once but again and again, and it is about time we put an end to our little day-night therapy sessions over the idiot-box with some politicians and diplomats who have been as irresponsible as us. It is about time we vent our retribution on these maggots.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Terrorists are not cowards. Cowards are only human. Terrorists, however, are inhuman to say the least. They are agents of the virus called terror. Love just won't do.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">This is the time when we think, talk and act vitriolic. This is when our attitude should ooze acid against those buggers. I cannot imagine that I have to share the same air with these proponents of the unjust death.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">We pride ourselves in unity. I disagree vehemently. We just fake ‘unity in diversity’. There is no such thing, unless we acknowledge ourselves as common human beings, each one of whom has got right to live. And those who don’t have no right to live!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I want to live without oppression – be it terror or in any other form.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I want to live without fear – be it the bullet or the ballot.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I want to live without bias – be it religious or socio-economic.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I want to live free – and my head held high because I know I have done something.</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-76891910435399256152008-11-06T01:34:00.000-08:002013-09-06T02:04:05.235-07:00Before The Other Side<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUCcsgZ8LfJvjIiBzrrKSKKkf6TDb0t5IGd7855kB4Zaukppf87C4W0a2HIOKQLxM6BaRCCcXwnWCmuqnAf49BsVMtlXe5roe4UTFDmJs97d2ihOp1imk9sXSB9GiGpI7lMuvG0kd13rD/s1600-h/Hell+and+Haven.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265476553097601506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlUCcsgZ8LfJvjIiBzrrKSKKkf6TDb0t5IGd7855kB4Zaukppf87C4W0a2HIOKQLxM6BaRCCcXwnWCmuqnAf49BsVMtlXe5roe4UTFDmJs97d2ihOp1imk9sXSB9GiGpI7lMuvG0kd13rD/s320/Hell+and+Haven.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 266px;" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">On a higher plane,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">I’ll like to be here.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">With a pang of guilt,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">With a hint of hurt,</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">With a spring of feet,</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Even in a brief spurt –</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">I will still like to be here.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">In the first crush,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">In the gardens lush,</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">In a glimmer of hope,</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Believing neither Devil nor Pope –</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">I will like to be here.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Even in Satan’s lap,</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Even at Heaven’s gate –</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">I’ll still like to be here.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">*****</span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-45314044162424901572008-10-31T06:25:00.000-07:002010-11-01T14:15:05.206-07:00Pink Rubber Shoes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgznNf738_NL395zg2JrFPmKRul3gDlMVf0SSzG6aZ6xBZOmOCggwVWmRQ8F0DkUL08ddhYwGmjnQ7AFAbjdGYO_OgpfkHATxaIHWLj6XhU6knYr4_yaavH-TfmThXuXhA38dilDXc4hAJ8/s1600-h/Pink+Rubber+Shoes.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263308975759673858" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgznNf738_NL395zg2JrFPmKRul3gDlMVf0SSzG6aZ6xBZOmOCggwVWmRQ8F0DkUL08ddhYwGmjnQ7AFAbjdGYO_OgpfkHATxaIHWLj6XhU6knYr4_yaavH-TfmThXuXhA38dilDXc4hAJ8/s320/Pink+Rubber+Shoes.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 226px;" /></a><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Pink Rubber Shoes</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">Ah, Yes! Squeaky clean rubber shoes,</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wonder what mischief they've been up to?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">Squeaky clean rubber soles in puddles,</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wonder what the besotted devil might do!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 13px;">*****</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-49011285058243874102008-08-23T13:24:00.000-07:002010-11-01T14:15:26.025-07:00Hell Risen<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_9nCMiDxV9YPbccNg4TMcgC2s2jgV12cUKprwnAjHwVHTSMnAcP3SM51vM0SDkagQORyrxXfi3OA8G62UQop3G330xNmOE-PzGu2XbZqNui6IngPicgYmFTlCcqx00SAf_KcLX3LFDlz/s1600-h/Hell+Risen.bmp"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240969948210722290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_9nCMiDxV9YPbccNg4TMcgC2s2jgV12cUKprwnAjHwVHTSMnAcP3SM51vM0SDkagQORyrxXfi3OA8G62UQop3G330xNmOE-PzGu2XbZqNui6IngPicgYmFTlCcqx00SAf_KcLX3LFDlz/s320/Hell+Risen.bmp" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a> <br />
<div align="left"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><em><span style="font-size: 130%;"><u></u></span></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 130%;"><em></em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><u><span style="font-size: 130%;">Hell Risen</span></u><br />
<br />
<em>Once there was a wish<br />
Of many lives torn apart –<br />
Let them heal now.<br />
<br />
Here trod the fire feet<br />
Blazed earth stood bye –<br />
Make way for them now.<br />
<br />
Things fell together<br />
Like a dramatic illusion –<br />
They make sense now.<br />
<br />
Heat and dust flew<br />
In the maddening wind –<br />
All seems clear now.<br />
<br />
Whatever seems like a dream<br />
Will fireball into reality –<br />
Do not wake me up now.<br />
<br />
</em>*****<br />
<br />
<em>Why will Man dream<br />
Where hope is but blind –<br />
To the unbound Phoenix.<br />
</em><br />
*****</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-18171850558649969562008-06-10T15:00:00.000-07:002010-11-01T14:15:52.388-07:00It Rained That Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_ZMBE62UlX3CMCEM4GiDHjnCglrRey9xMxFrFGyNO8q6zWmVXD8KYa8PKibVNilLCZ45WS-e9kgtuIGIc6HnPmaxJxSIhuR6KX1yjD9oEVq5LcrKP081vgNUoAlfQOP-DQ9jFSImlxxU/s1600-h/The+Walk.bmp"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210378864700677250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_ZMBE62UlX3CMCEM4GiDHjnCglrRey9xMxFrFGyNO8q6zWmVXD8KYa8PKibVNilLCZ45WS-e9kgtuIGIc6HnPmaxJxSIhuR6KX1yjD9oEVq5LcrKP081vgNUoAlfQOP-DQ9jFSImlxxU/s320/The+Walk.bmp" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<div><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: 130%;"><u></u></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><u>It rained that day<br />
</u></span><br />
It rained that day – incessant, unyielding,<br />
Overcome with such grief, that it rained –<br />
And it kept raining that day.<br />
That stranger came looking, he looked for you.<br />
He looked outside, he looked inside –<br />
He looked me inside out.<br />
In my eyes, under my skin – across my mind,<br />
And yet you were not there.<br />
<br />
Let him rest in peace.<br />
For he could not see – You,<br />
Coming again and again,<br />
Splashing on the window pane.<br />
Pacifying his soul with a whiff of life.<br />
<br />
Life rained that day<br />
You touched and I lived –<br />
A hundred lifetimes and beyond.<br />
Such, that it rained inside –<br />
And it kept raining that day.<br />
<br />
*****</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-84536542518386583932008-05-13T08:21:00.000-07:002010-11-01T13:59:36.574-07:00The Man Who Became God<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLYVQQZrwD4m51xxKJ5zrVzIs6bKgTW5M_e8TmwQx1aJXE4uY3Z4tjBI7kZFLE27OMsGT_EksJGjK0u-z7v1H_Xi7jZAESYawyrOnVWHOJMub5e41oobLT-hvA6j-cbIWzYBdVmWvio1Fa/s1600-h/RT.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199884673765958082" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLYVQQZrwD4m51xxKJ5zrVzIs6bKgTW5M_e8TmwQx1aJXE4uY3Z4tjBI7kZFLE27OMsGT_EksJGjK0u-z7v1H_Xi7jZAESYawyrOnVWHOJMub5e41oobLT-hvA6j-cbIWzYBdVmWvio1Fa/s400/RT.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a> <br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><u><span style="font-size: 130%;">The Man Who Became God<br />
</span></u><em><br />
Sky full of suns and stars,<br />
World full of life –<br />
Amidst all of these,<br />
I have found,<br />
I – have found my space.<br />
In wonderment –<br />
Thus doth arise,<br />
Arises, my song<br />
<br />
On the unbound rhythm,<br />
On destiny’s cradle,<br />
On the ebb & flow of tides,<br />
The Universe swings.<br />
In my veins,<br />
The flow of blood –<br />
Hath flooded in outburst<br />
In wonderment –<br />
Thus doth arise,<br />
Arises, my song<br />
<br />
On grasses I have trod<br />
On way to the forest<br />
On fragrance of flowers<br />
Struck with joy –<br />
My heart has rejoiced.<br />
Here lies scattered<br />
Happiness’ gifts<br />
In wonderment –<br />
Thus doth arise,<br />
Arises, my song<br />
I have lent my ears,<br />
I have opened my eyes,<br />
On Earth’s breast<br />
I have offered my soul.<br />
Amidst the known,<br />
I have sought the unknown.<br />
In wonderment –<br />
Thus doth arise,<br />
Arises, my song<br />
Sky full of suns and stars<br />
</em></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><em></em></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><em></em></span> </div><div align="right"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><em>– Rabindranath Tagore. </em></span></div><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><em></em></span><br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><em><br />
______________________________<br />
</em></span></div><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br />
It is a day of solitary reclusion. Self imposed state of assertion and collapsing inside oneself to have a clearer view of the outside.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-26906415770229972282008-05-09T14:50:00.000-07:002010-11-01T14:04:10.427-07:00Extreme Ways - Moby<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLYzxViw66ql6nYCuA74f8ueWKqcP-K5jOtLJC6Az_9MvYrMn6bkKMb_cTguEM8pJwYcCz-gXR0fg2qNp-Ixp9MzkvbFCvcjwNzHdA0XslTdDAOZe9P9BnXEeitiucKq6ZbjveTNMnyAz/s1600-h/Identity.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198500484905925714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLYzxViw66ql6nYCuA74f8ueWKqcP-K5jOtLJC6Az_9MvYrMn6bkKMb_cTguEM8pJwYcCz-gXR0fg2qNp-Ixp9MzkvbFCvcjwNzHdA0XslTdDAOZe9P9BnXEeitiucKq6ZbjveTNMnyAz/s200/Identity.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<div><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><u></u></span></span></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><u>Extreme Ways - Moby<br />
</u></span><br />
Extreme ways are back again<br />
Extreme places I didn't know<br />
I broke everything new again<br />
Everything that I'd owned<br />
I threw it out the windows, came along<br />
Extreme ways I know, will part<br />
The colors of my sea<br />
It's a perfect color me<br />
<br />
Extreme ways that help me<br />
They help me out late at night<br />
Extreme places I had gone<br />
But never seen any light<br />
Dirty basements, dirty noise<br />
Dirty places coming through<br />
Extreme worlds alone<br />
Did you ever like it then?<br />
<br />
I would stand in line for this<br />
There's always room in life for this<br />
<br />
Oh baby, oh baby<br />
Then it fell apart, it fell apart<br />
Oh baby, oh baby<br />
Then it fell apart, it fell apart<br />
Oh baby, oh baby<br />
Then it fell apart, it fell apart<br />
Oh baby, oh baby<br />
Like it always does, always does<br />
<br />
Extreme sounds have told me<br />
They held me down every night<br />
I didn't have much to say<br />
I didn't give up the light<br />
I closed my eyes and closed myself<br />
And closed my world and never opened<br />
Up to anything<br />
That could get me at all<br />
<br />
I had to close down everything<br />
I had to close down my mind<br />
Too many things could cut me<br />
Too much can make me blind<br />
I've seen so much in so many places<br />
So many heartaches, so many faces<br />
So many dirty things<br />
You couldn't even believe<br />
<br />
I would stand in line for this<br />
It's always good in life for this<br />
<br />
Oh baby, oh baby<br />
Then it fell apart, it fell apart<br />
Oh baby, oh baby<br />
Then it fell apart, it fell apart<br />
Oh baby, (oh baby), Oh baby (oh baby)<br />
Then it fell apart, (fell apart) it fell apart (fell apart)<br />
Oh baby, (oh baby,) oh baby, (oh baby)<br />
Then it fell apart, (fell apart), it fell apart, (fell apart)<br />
Oh baby, (oh baby), Oh baby (oh baby)<br />
Like it always does, (always does), always does (always does)<br />
<br />
******<br />
<em>- Moby.</em></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-53888149890521121772008-05-07T13:43:00.000-07:002010-11-01T14:16:18.221-07:00Music<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmHhXwiZrgBErJFNECylI9a7DypLb07mR9W9920Ag3cFRM5TSKJ8NPw7Xj26lrogDpX9AeB84dMB1LU6RsIrWI6HtjiQ2SCre7QiL1RXlYwep6CBqKNuSmU92IByLohhyXIzk8y3vQD2G/s1600-h/MD.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197741606627994594" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmHhXwiZrgBErJFNECylI9a7DypLb07mR9W9920Ag3cFRM5TSKJ8NPw7Xj26lrogDpX9AeB84dMB1LU6RsIrWI6HtjiQ2SCre7QiL1RXlYwep6CBqKNuSmU92IByLohhyXIzk8y3vQD2G/s320/MD.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<div><span style="font-size: 130%;"><u></u></span></div><br />
<div align="justify"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><u>Music<br />
</u></span><br />
Here's a thought.<br />
<br />
Music ain't supposed to mean a thing. Infact it isn't supposed to mean at all.<br />
<br />
Imagine.<br />
<br />
An early morning breeze over Juhu beach; grains of sands sprinkling – following your steps and the breeze does hum…<br />
<br />
Even the thought of sweltering Mumbai summer fails, emerging din and bustles of the 'maximum' city fades, eyes dilate onto an invisible speck on the southern horizon of the extended bay - where the palm trees arise like brushes kissing across the sky lilting from darkness of night to twilight of dawn and all possible words fail to explain. What?<br />
<br />
That. A catchy little humming on your lips… ho, hum, hmm…<br />
<br />
Music is nothing, dear. Maybe it's more the moment - maybe it's not.<br />
<br />
It's good that I never got to know the technicalities.</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">*****</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><em>(Dedicated to the 'one who sits aglow, amidst yellow' ... for music's sake.)</em></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-25535066393567250622008-04-24T07:50:00.000-07:002010-11-01T14:06:49.747-07:00O Bulla! I know not who I am...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lX0VzF4XUttm442kNvUwYtGyM21KqE6ceB1KilYbfbyg0OQRif9ThdTs6gy9nO_XCUuJxtK4GEXT0ISN3NphnmzoeHev_PCk7-Lojv-5eyhf8roS8FDgTXUZDF7dW0AtdBGp_mpjhlkh/s1600-h/Who+am+I.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192825766286130306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lX0VzF4XUttm442kNvUwYtGyM21KqE6ceB1KilYbfbyg0OQRif9ThdTs6gy9nO_XCUuJxtK4GEXT0ISN3NphnmzoeHev_PCk7-Lojv-5eyhf8roS8FDgTXUZDF7dW0AtdBGp_mpjhlkh/s200/Who+am+I.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><u>O Bulla! I know not who I am<br />
</u></span><br />
Bulla, I know not who I am<br />
Bulla, I know not who I am<br />
Neither am I believer in mosque<br />
Nor am I in idol worship.<br />
Neither in the pure or the impure<br />
Nor am I in the Vedas.<br />
Neither am I into intoxicants,<br />
Nor am I the carefree deviant.<br />
Neither am I union nor grief.<br />
Neither am I the pure nor impure.<br />
Neither am I of the water nor of the land.<br />
Neither am I fire nor air.<br />
Bulla, I know not who I am.<br />
Neither am I Arabic nor from Lahore.<br />
Neither am I from the Indian city of Nagaur.<br />
Neither am I Hindu nor a Peshawari Turk.<br />
Neither did I create the difference of faith,<br />
Nor did I create Adam and Eve.<br />
Neither did I name myself,<br />
Beginning or end –<br />
I know just the self.<br />
I do not recognize ‘the other one’.<br />
There’s none wiser than ‘me’.<br />
Who is this Bulla Shah?<br />
O Bulla! I know not who I am.<br />
*****<br />
<em>Bulleh Shah</em></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-16478942512949158182008-04-07T11:17:00.000-07:002010-11-01T14:07:39.974-07:00Journey Begins<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgMBJ97NvEsmT3XAls96qAtDPMgVPabZkc-LC_Srj7uWftZeYRcfr9ZbTz8Htrs2a3OMcRzxfxQLazDsN3yoMpwXPqE9EG2GOEVyTcB1PJVFIVcGRUWH-v2QVo62sz2CS6cS_JmeoXf2E/s1600-h/hitch.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186572955239020642" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgMBJ97NvEsmT3XAls96qAtDPMgVPabZkc-LC_Srj7uWftZeYRcfr9ZbTz8Htrs2a3OMcRzxfxQLazDsN3yoMpwXPqE9EG2GOEVyTcB1PJVFIVcGRUWH-v2QVo62sz2CS6cS_JmeoXf2E/s200/hitch.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a> I have waited long. It can wait no longer. The journey begins - a journey called 'on my own'.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-53056898098178887832008-03-22T19:10:00.000-07:002010-11-01T14:16:46.369-07:00Final Stand<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtXA0KBpBpRHAWDYGBDXfhlZZn-kFh_036Y0ZSXWDY1Bp8tIm-0V3_Al2jnIrnPF4lPW-6G0_rCXTiJOp-vnlT80nhiL3hzQ8FsKrGV8J4DSnPSE9ZGAZMpkaCIiZZvUQvtTiiawdmGWH/s1600-h/Last+Stand.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180753991812479058" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtXA0KBpBpRHAWDYGBDXfhlZZn-kFh_036Y0ZSXWDY1Bp8tIm-0V3_Al2jnIrnPF4lPW-6G0_rCXTiJOp-vnlT80nhiL3hzQ8FsKrGV8J4DSnPSE9ZGAZMpkaCIiZZvUQvtTiiawdmGWH/s200/Last+Stand.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a> <br />
<div><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><u><span style="font-size: 130%;"></span></u></span></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><u><span style="font-size: 130%;">Final Stand</span><br />
</u><br />
Gospels of disbelief tend fear in a bountiful alcove,<br />
Gathering mercy to bestow faith –<br />
How cowardly and dastardly acts the self –<br />
On an uneventful platter of life<br />
On easier days when the moons shall burn bright red<br />
And all suns and stars will be set alight to cinder and ash<br />
In the disturbed horizons of a long billowing hurricane<br />
I shall find my place under a warm blanket.</span></div><br />
<div><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">___________</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-37090579165977465072008-03-22T19:07:00.000-07:002010-11-01T14:10:58.742-07:00A Breeze<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0ymaSFNBgsWorjgYesDs7mWde91uLjJ0aX2c6ZzNuM76EeVmwrFuM5tI8uG5NJTt5-3BHWmfcB-z78WWqFRn1aKWfUHM3rioSLRAtD6FlvHKddEsS1lS4ybh15ty50Ip6jQxDsYsF6fC/s1600-h/A+Breeze.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180753283142875202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0ymaSFNBgsWorjgYesDs7mWde91uLjJ0aX2c6ZzNuM76EeVmwrFuM5tI8uG5NJTt5-3BHWmfcB-z78WWqFRn1aKWfUHM3rioSLRAtD6FlvHKddEsS1lS4ybh15ty50Ip6jQxDsYsF6fC/s200/A+Breeze.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><u>A Breeze<br />
</u></span><br />
See this shore on the island of my heart,<br />
Come break on its parched sands.<br />
And you will know how long monsoon<br />
Has turned away and left me dry.<br />
Can’t even find tears now – this moment,<br />
And the dream of your dreams rises<br />
Falls like an unsure yearning of ages gone.<br />
<br />
Give me sight now, one miracle touch –<br />
Balm my tired eyelids softly,<br />
Hold my hands and let me walk beside.<br />
The sun never craved for more.<br />
Never the earth craved less for your feet.<br />
I am hardly breathing now –<br />
For one last time I breathe so easy.<br />
<br />
You can save me now or let me die –<br />
Here, where flowers bloom.<br />
And I forget once again that I ever existed,<br />
For it has never been quenched.<br />
But please, my lady, when we stand –<br />
Say not what you can say best.<br />
For all these I shall feel no more, then –<br />
The universe might crash inside.<br />
<br />
The winds remain to speak unspoken.<br />
<br />
*****</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5877162874522555714.post-53615809583964210182008-03-22T19:03:00.001-07:002010-11-01T14:18:17.452-07:00Candyman Dreams<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP_7BSlYE5B3ttgU4nt1DTgNGERSxUfTEgf66lrZeTBuh0Lf0WRlHSUj_0DQhssdvQ_JWkg9YYCpW8QJPis5tldK_xmYzVXJDelmUBPdLRHhM0jX8KXAt59Q_Vj8oxtmEcEG5NwiKWPk-B/s1600-h/Candyman+Dreams.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180752565883336754" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP_7BSlYE5B3ttgU4nt1DTgNGERSxUfTEgf66lrZeTBuh0Lf0WRlHSUj_0DQhssdvQ_JWkg9YYCpW8QJPis5tldK_xmYzVXJDelmUBPdLRHhM0jX8KXAt59Q_Vj8oxtmEcEG5NwiKWPk-B/s200/Candyman+Dreams.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br />
<div align="justify"><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><u>Candyman Dreams<br />
</u></span><br />
It is a straight stretch of glazed, ivory black granite brick road. Tram tracks have sank deep into it over the years of intense pressure. Millions of wheels roll bumping on the cracks across the graveled stretch. This is not a story of the street. Yet, streets have stories to tell.<br />
Streets are brilliant storytellers. They never tire of telling them. More often than not they live up to their reputation. Streets have so many stories to tell. Some are hazardous and a rollercoaster ride with the shocked riders clenching their teeth under a deepening comic grimace – destinations are always far away. Some are murderous in the darkest hour where only few scurrying footsteps can be heard under the shady lampposts gleaming drearily in the creepy drizzle drenched city – a moment of silence, a muffled groan and silence reigns again. Some are deceptively fast paced and bouncy for the sentry religiously defending his castle from the onslaught of cannon balls, hurdled across with more aggression than conviction or accuracy – expectedly on a day when a strike or boycott, of any nature, has been declared. Some are monotonous like the everyday traffic snarls extending all along its stretch. Yet, it makes up for all that when the story is interspersed in between by the chapter where an unintentional blink made two pairs of eyes meet for the first time in their life and become unforgettable to each other. Such are the, occasional but obviously the brilliant sparks of a genius.<br />
Some stories are mishaps. Precisely, an unpredictable outcome that is unfortunate. Yet, it must be a decisive outcome with no choices to the end. Why? I mean we all got choices for a solution to the situation but only decisive ends to them, which is in fact the most important time to make a choice. Well, but stories are just that – stories, and this story is just such a story.<br />
The street was swarming with mid-day traffic. The pressure was far less compared to the morning office hours. Yet, dust, burnt petrol fumes, charred rubber on hot asphalt and bare, glazed granite bricks were aplenty to make it feel alive. For the street, however, it was getting a wee monotonous. All of these it beheld, day in and day out. Maybe, the street brooded under its skin; it was loosing its human touch.<br />
They say thought is the fastest thing known. They even say there is something called telepathy. Then the plastic pack full of green, yellow and orange candies should have known the street well enough. For the response was just that – a mishap.<br />
<br />
If you go up to him any day you will find two deep set blazing eyeballs peering out at your approach. The square lower jaw seems to hang down in most disagreeable fashion under the lax muscles and wrinkled skin over his cheeks. The nose sticks out like a wasted chewing gum stuck up and left in a thin stretch, poking at everything that beheld it. The lines on the forehead were deep enough to be portrayed in black, four of them uniformly spread across the ample width of the forehead. The hairline was a premature disaster, of black and white, cumulatively gray.<br />
He was not the funny man. He was the candyman. Looks are deceptive and even more in black and white, on paper. One look at his face could tell the everyday story of a wife selling vegetables, two children well malnourished who helped their mother beg when times were worse and a life torn apart in pride and disability. Some are born free, some are born cursed.<br />
<br />
Now let The Street tell its story...<br />
<br />
He ran across the dangerously busy crossing. The only thing in his eyes was the bus on the other side of the road. The bus had stopped at the signal...<br />
<br />
...Bus of route number 215A...bus full of passengers...passengers packed inside the bus, sweating...children nagging on mother’s lap...people bored of the wait...<br />
...Green, yellow and orange candies...mango, pineapple and orange...quenches thirst...time pass...50 paisa apiece, two for a rupee...profit of 10 paisa on a candy...10 sold; a rupee rich...run, run, run...<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, the plastic pack of candies was concentrating on the street’s thoughts.<br />
The stopped traffic was let off. Like a simultaneous reaction to the revving up of the first gears of the waiting vehicles, candies, like marbles, rent through the bag and sprinkled all over the street crossing like colored, shimmering pearls of many little, precious dreams. They fell out off his arms like a brook of jewels, a brook of shiny little dreams.<br />
But he was still running. He was thinking. He was not ‘thinking’...<br />
<br />
...Many passengers...good omen for the day...a day of good income...will save five rupees for the children...Durga Puja is also round the corner...maybe fish curry tomorrow...<br />
<br />
Somebody shouted out at the falling candies. He slowed, turned and looked down towards the near empty plastic bag on his relieved left arm, even as the bus of route number 215A ceremoniously picked up speed and roared past. His jaws hung low. The right arm, he had had raised to stop the bus, slowly crept down and fell limp by the other side. His eyes were slowly opening, dilated –<br />
<br />
That was the very last picture of the candyman seen by the person, sitting in an auto-rickshaw, which the street beheld. But the street is not telling their story today.<br />
It is a very happy day for the street. The street had so many colored marbles all for itself. It has got marbles to play with, today...<br />
<br />
________________</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12736870043595412991noreply@blogger.com0