<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809</id><updated>2011-10-24T14:30:58.541+05:30</updated><category term='religion'/><category term='incident'/><category term='interview'/><category term='music'/><category term='dream'/><category term='vacation'/><category term='i thought so'/><title type='text'>inspired by amateurs</title><subtitle type='html'>some not so anymore.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-1098147449180294616</id><published>2009-12-18T00:51:00.009+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-19T15:45:50.444+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Teleshopping heights</title><content type='html'>Did your new car get scratches on the very first day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Does your kid get ill with no apparent detectable illness?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did you suddenly lose business on a new venture?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Did the ladke waale break the shadi with your daughter all of a sudden?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Has your boyfriend suddenly started ignoring you?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Are you suddenly losing money in share market?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Does your brilliant son face difficulty in passing exams?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And you have no idea what's wrong? Well, it is possible aapki khushi ko kisi ki nazar lag gayi hai.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JQYL8Ww-gp4/SyqKgnjnkYI/AAAAAAAAJp4/cRdtoc7BTuc/s320/before.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416293794845266306" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Lets see nazar kaise lagti hai... This happens when someone is jealous of something good which is happening to you. While you are showing your new factory, or your beautiful child, or your shining car, to your bhabhi, bua, colleagues you are only exposing your success, your happiness to their nazar. And this is how nazar lagti hai.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JQYL8Ww-gp4/SyqL0hpQIEI/AAAAAAAAJqA/USVVh6S07n4/s320/after.JPG" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416295236367294530" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;To save you from this evil, scientists (you can put the comma before the word evil) in Shri Divya Rishi Kendra after research in "evil eye shielding technique" have come up with a product which will save you from buri nazar. This is how you will be able to ward off the evil nazar from friends and family&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JQYL8Ww-gp4/SyqMyRsrv0I/AAAAAAAAJqI/cwRtipUPhiI/s320/sampurnanazarsurakshakawach.jpg.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 250px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416296297238609730" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The set comes with an amulet, a bracelet and some other stuff as shown. This product is in line with some Turkish tradition. And has been energized by "mahamantro ka jaap". MRP, nominal, 2375/-. With 30days money back guarantee.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;And I forgot to mention, it was said that beautiful girls, their complexion, their figure are all highly susceptible to the nazar lagne ka problem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Honest. I didn't make any of this shit up. During this 10 min odd ad I laughed out loud some 5 times, and shouted ugly words, which I can't mention here, at the host the same no. of times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-1098147449180294616?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/1098147449180294616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=1098147449180294616' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/1098147449180294616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/1098147449180294616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2009/12/teleshopping-heights.html' title='Teleshopping heights'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JQYL8Ww-gp4/SyqKgnjnkYI/AAAAAAAAJp4/cRdtoc7BTuc/s72-c/before.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-6829573568983222488</id><published>2009-10-09T00:21:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-09T00:26:27.081+05:30</updated><title type='text'>As the pendulum swings</title><content type='html'>Not so long ago, I was in Class 9/10. In Hindi class, Sir mentioned the name Bachchan, and then said, "humare waale, aapke waale nahi" clarifying that he is talking about Harivansh Rai, and not Amitabh.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If the exact scene is repeated in a school today, the Bachchans would be Amitabh and Abhishek. Time really flies. Also the generation jump is quantum, not continuous.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-6829573568983222488?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/6829573568983222488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=6829573568983222488' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/6829573568983222488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/6829573568983222488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2009/10/as-pendulum-swings.html' title='As the pendulum swings'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-8694478071746697457</id><published>2009-09-23T00:29:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-23T00:57:00.260+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i thought so'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Sounds similar</title><content type='html'>Doesn't the song Ek mai aur ek tu, (&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tj-8NNZJp-4"&gt;youtube&lt;/a&gt;) sound kinda like, if you're happy and you know it (&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpMk5tq2d-A"&gt;youtube again&lt;/a&gt;).&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sing the lines one after the other...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ek mai aur ek tu = if you're happy and you know it clap your hands&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dono miley is tarah = if you're happy and you know it clap your hands&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;aur jo tan man me ho raha hai = if you're happy and you know it then your face will really show it&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;wo to hona hi tha = if you're happy and you know it clap your hands.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Doesn't fit eXactly, specially the length. but still, some similarity? Maybe some one educated in music can tell better, how wrong or right I am.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Uff, thinking of a title for this one took more time than writing... and this is what I come up with! bad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-8694478071746697457?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/8694478071746697457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=8694478071746697457' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/8694478071746697457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/8694478071746697457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2009/09/sounds-similar.html' title='Sounds similar'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-4492201586904672758</id><published>2009-07-24T00:20:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-24T00:42:02.218+05:30</updated><title type='text'>We the people</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;People are idiots, confused, mercurial. But they think they are not. They repeat their mistakes. They get affected by others' opinion. They get depressed by every other setback. They tell themselves not to but they do. They look at happy and successful people around and think why can't they be so. They get jealous. They get greedy. They want more but don't know what to do to get it. When they know what to do they just don't do it. They say they need someone to push them, but they don't even when someone does push. They work on the rocket principle, but it doesn't work everywhere. People form opinions, biases, prejudices. When A says X they are irritated. When B says X they smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One might say there are 100s of kinds of people. Some will say there are 1000s. Some may say every individual is different. Well in that case, this one is just about me. Hey, maybe they sometimes belittle what they have :-) and write something like this to unwind.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Are you like me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-4492201586904672758?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/4492201586904672758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=4492201586904672758' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/4492201586904672758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/4492201586904672758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2009/07/we-people.html' title='We the people'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-8506751311533620595</id><published>2009-07-22T23:46:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-23T00:23:12.552+05:30</updated><title type='text'>'aise hi' post</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Don't you think we do not have a life of our own anymore? So many rules, so many restrictions. One can't take one's own decisions. Just keep following whatever you are being asked to do. Isn't it? All I can see around me are signs asking me to do as told:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;No Entry, Keep left, Do not spit, No smoking, One way, Use stairs in case of fire, Tender exact change, Be in the queue.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Why should i listen to them? Tell me, why shouldn't I be on my own?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;:D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-8506751311533620595?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/8506751311533620595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=8506751311533620595' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/8506751311533620595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/8506751311533620595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2009/07/aise-hi-post.html' title='&apos;aise hi&apos; post'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-6815538688643937423</id><published>2009-02-10T23:24:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-23T00:16:20.564+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='incident'/><title type='text'>Oopsie!</title><content type='html'>We had a course in Microeconomics in the first term at XLRI. In the next term I met the Prof. on the road and wished him a good day. He stopped and this is how the short conversation went:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prof.: ahhh, ummm, B?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: No sir, (with a smug smile), A+&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prof.: Oh no, I meant the section.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: (oh shit) ah, yes sir, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;B.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:-(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-6815538688643937423?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/6815538688643937423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=6815538688643937423' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/6815538688643937423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/6815538688643937423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2009/02/oopsie.html' title='Oopsie!'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-2062454047057304695</id><published>2009-01-24T19:53:00.020+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-20T04:08:17.384+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Will the block topple?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This post will be vulnerable to the assumptions i have made. If you find one too far stretched or simply wrong, please comment. And of course you are free to comment otherwise also :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;If you place a cuboidal block in water it will float if it is lighter than water, but in what position. If you lay a block flat it will float like that, but if it is put standing, it may float, or may fall to a flatter position. This much is observation, or just intution, but I wanted to get there mathematically. I wanted to find an expression which would tell me if the block will fall, or not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So I have a block lighter than the liquid it is in. I try to find an expression which will tell me if the position it is put in is stable or not. So fr&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;om the position, i deflect it by a small angle θ and check if a restoring couple is created by the pair of forces (weight and buoyancy) or if the couple helps topple the block.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Approach:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Simple, find the center of buoyancy and the center of gravity after tilting the block by a small angle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Check the points at which the buoyancy and weight act, to see the direction of the couple formed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;At this point of time, my guesses. High density of liquid will make it difficult for the block to float in a erect position, that is on a smaller face. And of course larger the vertical dimension with &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;respect to the flat one, difficult it should be to float.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JQYL8Ww-gp4/SYScvimyrXI/AAAAAAAAI7k/o2mdYnh5-7I/s400/floating+block+post.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 366px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297531402251840882" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;To start the so&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;lution, here is the diagram. All the required dimensions are marked. The block has been tilted by an angle θ. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The axes X and Y are stuck to the blocks flat position, thus tilted to vertical and horizontal by θ.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Since the density o&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;f the liquid is ρ the displaced volume of the solid so that it is in equilibrium is ρHB (third dimension is 1, say). Thus the average depth in water is ρH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Another parameter η has been used which just defines the shape of the block. η=B/H.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Next is to find the buoyancy point. That would be the center of mass of the submerged portion which is trapezoidal. We find that the distance of the center from the origin along both axes are:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JQYL8Ww-gp4/SYSpOXsh9hI/AAAAAAAAI78/XqSD3nLV0X0/s200/floating+block+post2.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 131px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297545126038599186" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Using simple geometry, the horizontal distance of this point from the origin is &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;[ΔXsinθ-ΔYcosθ]&lt;/span&gt;. This is to be compared with the location of the center of mass of the block, since the weight acts through this point. In a position with B horizontal, the distance of the center from the bottom base is H/2, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;while the base is at a depth of below the water level. Thus the distance from the origin is (ρH-B/2), and hence the horizontal distance is &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;(ρH-B/2)sinθ&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JQYL8Ww-gp4/SYS4dUPBfzI/AAAAAAAAI8M/Nj8h21viZgk/s200/floating+block+post3_Page_1.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 196px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297561875481984818" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The latter should be greater for the restoring couple to act, so that as seen in the diagram the couple formed is favorable for restoring the position. Thus using &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;(ρH-B/2)sinθ&gt;ΔXsinθ-ΔYcosθ&lt;/span&gt; we get &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JQYL8Ww-gp4/SYS8O3BraYI/AAAAAAAAI8c/Vr6QK7xVf6U/s320/floating+block+post2.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 90px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297566025169725826" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After coming this far, now i do not know how correct this is and more importantly i had fun doing all this but what do i do with it now!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:-(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-2062454047057304695?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/2062454047057304695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=2062454047057304695' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/2062454047057304695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/2062454047057304695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2009/01/will-block-topple.html' title='Will the block topple?'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JQYL8Ww-gp4/SYScvimyrXI/AAAAAAAAI7k/o2mdYnh5-7I/s72-c/floating+block+post.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-7008752286374399239</id><published>2009-01-21T08:22:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-21T08:39:50.719+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Special effects</title><content type='html'>Concerned song: right here right now (hip hop mix) - Bluffmaster&lt;div&gt;The opening of the song is in a female voice, but difficult to make out what is being said. Sounds arabic or something, also difficult to pronounce. Listen to it first&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table bgcolor="#000000" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;embed quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" bgcolor="#000" width="328" height="94" src="http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/esnips_player.swf" flashvars="theTheme=silver&amp;amp;autoPlay=no&amp;amp;theFile=http://www.esnips.com//nsdoc/37f6587f-0673-461c-b2c6-344ec964974f&amp;amp;theName=original&amp;amp;thePlayerURL=http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/mp3WidgetPlayer.swf"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="2" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; padding-left:2px; color:#FFFFFF; text-decoration:none ; ; font-size:10px; font-weight:bold"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a style="color:#FFFFFF; text-decoration:none " href="http://www.esnips.com/CreateWidgetAction.ns?type=0&amp;amp;objectid=37f6587f-0673-461c-b2c6-344ec964974f"&gt;     Get this widget &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size:7px; font-weight:normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color:#FFFFFF; text-decoration:none " href="http://www.esnips.com/doc/37f6587f-0673-461c-b2c6-344ec964974f/original/?widget=flash_player_esnips_silver"&gt;     Track details  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size:7px; font-weight:normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color:#FF6600; text-decoration:none" href="http://www.esnips.com//adserver/?action=visit&amp;amp;cid=player_dna&amp;amp;url=/socialdna"&gt;   eSnips Social DNA    &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went over this part again and again, and thought of trying something. The voice was human but there were no clear words. I thought let me reverse the piece and see what it becomes. This is what i got...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table bgcolor="#000000" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;embed quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" bgcolor="#000" width="328" height="94" src="http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/esnips_player.swf" flashvars="theTheme=blue&amp;amp;autoPlay=no&amp;amp;theFile=http://www.esnips.com//nsdoc/8860866c-e55f-4438-8505-dceb13f8207e&amp;amp;theName=edit&amp;amp;thePlayerURL=http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/mp3WidgetPlayer.swf"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="2" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; padding-left:2px; color:#FFFFFF; text-decoration:none ; ; font-size:10px; font-weight:bold"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a style="color:#FFFFFF; text-decoration:none " href="http://www.esnips.com/CreateWidgetAction.ns?type=0&amp;amp;objectid=8860866c-e55f-4438-8505-dceb13f8207e"&gt;     Get this widget &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size:7px; font-weight:normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color:#FFFFFF; text-decoration:none " href="http://www.esnips.com/doc/8860866c-e55f-4438-8505-dceb13f8207e/edit/?widget=flash_player_esnips_blue"&gt;     Track details  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size:7px; font-weight:normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color:#FF6600; text-decoration:none" href="http://www.esnips.com//adserver/?action=visit&amp;amp;cid=player_dna&amp;amp;url=/socialdna"&gt;   eSnips Social DNA    &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The mystery was solved. Success!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-7008752286374399239?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/7008752286374399239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=7008752286374399239' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/7008752286374399239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/7008752286374399239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2009/01/special-effects.html' title='Special effects'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-7244828390180042846</id><published>2008-12-30T15:43:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-05T01:46:48.923+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Reunited, with myself</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My school, &lt;a href="http://www.rkmvndp.org/"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Narendrapur&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;RamaKrishna&lt;/span&gt; Mission &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Vidyalaya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, (Class 5-10/1993-99) holds its alumni reunion every alternate year on the Christmas day. This time, it was the golden jubilee reunion. And I wasn't too far from the place so I decided to go. I wasn't expecting much. I am not in touch with many of my school friends of those times. And many of them weren't around &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kolkata&lt;/span&gt; that time. I did call up a friend a day before the reunion and found that they are coming as well. I thought I won't be alone, and that would be a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The next day it seems I was among the first one among the batch to reach there. I called that friend again but he said he can't come. Anyway, I did see some other friends and talked to them for a while. It was all, what are you doing now, how you have been all this while and a little of do you know what that person is doing. Nothing exceptional. It felt good to be with old friends after a long time, but I didn't know what else to do. I am not a very interesting person and hence if you don't have anything to say to me, or ask me, chances are that we will be quite quiet in our conversation. That's what was happening most of the time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After sometime I was separated from them as I had come to the place with a friend not belonging to the school and another from a different batch. And basically we didn't have much  in common to talk, about the school. I went with them to have lunch and went around the campus. This is when I thought that for a person like me, reunion or just a visit back to the school may not be the most fruitful if I meet the MOST number of friends. Because if I am in a group, all we talk about interesting events which had happened in the past, none of which involve me. Reading this previous post &lt;a href="http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2007/12/have-you-been-good.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; would help. (Am I being selfish here? Of course I am. So what?) When I was away from all the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;batchmates&lt;/span&gt; of mine it was different! I could feel everything. I could feel everything the way it always was.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I was walking around the campus and all the while I could see myself as a kid everywhere. There was nothing special about anything I saw. But I guess that's what's nostalgia. The kind of things which I was remembering were:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cleaning my room everyday and arranging my bed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Getting late to class sometimes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The tabla teacher who used to get away teaching nothing&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The blind tabla teacher who taught us more in a year, than the previous teacher did in 5 yrs&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;His blind friend, who used to teach Sitar and their touch watches!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The little stationery store where we used to buy stuff filling requests slips, approved by the warden&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The time when I bought an underwear 4 to 5 times bigger size than mine and didn't return&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The time when we used to play near the press which printed our question papers, which by the way never got leaked&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Taking bath in the open, under a 4 floor tall water tank&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Playing football in the fields, bare foot, with wooden goal-posts&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Queueing up outside the fields to wash our feet after games and then in bathrooms to have a bath&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Boring functions attended in the 1500 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;seater&lt;/span&gt; auditorium&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Watching Lion King on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;majestic&lt;/span&gt; screen in the auditorium, but missing the first half because I was out for a Maths quiz, which I didn't win. &lt;a href="http://www.orkut.co.in/Main#Profile.aspx?origin=is&amp;amp;uid=14385319614912106650"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Dibya&lt;/span&gt; Jana&lt;/a&gt; would always be in the team from our school to get through the stage. I only participated.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Saraswati&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Puja&lt;/span&gt; in the assembly hall&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Programs in the space adjacent to it&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Long chat sessions in our rooms, often after lights were compulsory switched off, and sometimes getting scolded by warden for it&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The time when I took the Maths class, on teachers' day, I had planned a quiz but Sir made me teach a theorem as he would on the black board. I was his favourite. I met him this time, but not sure he remembers me as that student. He just asked which batch. I just stood in front of him for sometime not knowing what else to say... I had no words&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Sleeping in study halls&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Sleeping in prayer halls, we used to hit the person in front and sometimes at the back while swinging in sleep!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Wearing Dhoti for some 1000+ times over the 6 years&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Doing the monthly duties, block leader, prayer hall duty, dining hall food serving duty (where you would be fed very well, after your duty is over), surrounding cleaning duty (cleaning around the campus on Sundays)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Saraswati&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Puja&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;visarjan&lt;/span&gt; parade, where one of us was thrashed up by the Principal for singing Hindi songs and dancing to them. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Principal&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Ashokda&lt;/span&gt;, or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Sw&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Satyatmananda&lt;/span&gt; never lost his cool. That was the only time we saw this side of his&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt;And the time when a friend thought he didn't have a good hair cut and took the scissors in his ow hands, and went chop chop. Realized that he had made it worse and that his scalp was visible at the front and put shoe polish there. Some chemical reactions and his hair was green. Well this guy had actually come to the reunion and I was narrating this incident to my friend in front of him. He insisted that it was water paint and not shoe polish but I am telling you, I didn't make up any part of the story myself!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I knew no one would be moved to hear all this. So I kept most of these to myself. But then I reached my class 6 hostel. Read the notice boards. Saw the students marks displayed. Read the wall magazines. And then saw that one of the rooms were open! And on the first bed there was a Tabla left open. I couldn't stop myself. I sat there and started playing whatever shit I could remember. Must have been some 9 years since I had touched one. Of course I couldn't play anything good. Would have scored just pass in the tests had I been that bad then. But never before did a Tabla gave me this much fun. I was playing there with my friend sitting next to me, and both of us could make out that there wasn't much I knew. But it brought a smile to my face. I felt content. I wished I remembered more and could play for hours together sitting there. Actually my love for music started with Tabla classes back in school. Still now when I listen to some song I follow the beats more than anything else. For me it is mostly about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;percussion&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This is how your childhood gets ingrained in you. Little things you do shape your likes, dislikes, interests, intellect, competence, everything. There are somethings that get internalized. Like things that we become a part of and they become a part of us, without really understanding, why, how, when, what...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So what makes my school the best school is not the curriculum, the faculty, the infrastructure: but  just the fact that it is mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-7244828390180042846?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/7244828390180042846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=7244828390180042846' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/7244828390180042846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/7244828390180042846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2008/12/reunited-with-myself.html' title='Reunited, with myself'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-5549604632759450289</id><published>2008-12-23T16:07:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-23T16:14:30.511+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Wide awake</title><content type='html'>This post in inspired by the characteristic &lt;a href="http://aquitaine.blogspot.com/"&gt;Naween&lt;/a&gt; posts on his limited interactions with Profs.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prof: blah blah blah&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rohit: zzzzzzzzz&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prof: blah blah blah blah&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rohit: zzzzzzzzzzzz&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prof: blah blah&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Students: sir, time is up, please sir, we had classes all day, etc. etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prof: hmmm, ok, ya, anyway this part wasn't in your syllabus.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rohit: SIR... CHEATING!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Prof: Oh, now you woke up&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-5549604632759450289?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/5549604632759450289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=5549604632759450289' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/5549604632759450289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/5549604632759450289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2008/12/wide-awake.html' title='Wide awake'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-475324421387894216</id><published>2008-12-02T13:07:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-04T22:51:13.072+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Success!</title><content type='html'>I have always been wanting to buy a headphone so that my neighbors can rest in peace while I listen to my music on full volume. But the #^**&amp;amp;^% that I am, the reason never seemed to be enough. But  I had another reason why I should be buying a headphone.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When not on headphone, a lot of the music being played doesn't reach me. Little details about instruments playing are missed out. So I bought a headphone yesterday, a normal one. Value for money types. sasta sundar tikau. But ever since I was wondering why I did I. To the extent that I told myself that I only bought it so that I don't feel like buying it all the time now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But just now, I was listening to Naagin Rock by Decibel in mp3. I noticed something for the first time. In the first part, there is a drum+guitar thing (which ends at around 13-15 seconds) with the guitar dying down with reverberations (i wish i wasn't this technically challenged when it comes to music). But when I heard it on headphones I realized that the editor didn't let it die down. It is clipped when it almost reaches inaudible levels. I played it back a few more times to check and smiled... This is how my headphones drew first blood!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Success&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-475324421387894216?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/475324421387894216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=475324421387894216' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/475324421387894216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/475324421387894216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2008/12/success.html' title='Success!'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-757907381479716696</id><published>2008-08-15T23:51:00.008+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-02T21:32:48.266+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i thought so'/><title type='text'>Proud to be an Indian</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The title of the post could be misleading for you. "Are you proud to be an Indian? Why so?", I was reminded of this question while watching the flag hoisting ceremony today at my college, the question, which was raised by a course facilitator in one of our sessions. I wondered how I would answer that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I can't say no, that would sound too cynical, pessimistic, rebellious, or something of that sort. But if I say yes, I should have a reason for that. Not just to tell others, but for myself to believe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Then i figured out a very easy explanation for the same. I love my country the same way I love my parents, my family. I didn't do anything to get them. I was born to them. Had God wished otherwise, I could have been born to anyone, anywhere possible. But I am sure, I would have loved my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;those&lt;/span&gt; parents the same way. That's how I love my country. I like many things about it, I hate to see many bad things in it. But those don't decide whether I love it or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just feel for my country, because it is mine. I  grew up with it. I have always sung those songs with enthu. Taken part in parades. Read the pre-independence stories in school books . Then as I grew up, saw it develop to what it is now. You can add more such lines here that could fit. The list is endless. Bottomline is that I don't need a reason to be proud of my country, or to love my country. I just do it. Maybe that is irrational, but who said I have to be rational in my love!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-757907381479716696?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/757907381479716696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=757907381479716696' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/757907381479716696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/757907381479716696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2008/08/proud-to-be-indian.html' title='Proud to be an Indian'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-7648387976774828108</id><published>2008-06-21T12:36:00.019+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-04T22:38:07.045+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Self plagiarism or something! (Bollywood music)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p  style="text-align: justify;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I don’t know what it should be called. We know of numerous examples of songs or just some parts being copied from music of different regions within the country or beyond. But I observed a few songs where the music directors chose to pick some music from their own old songs and use it to a different effect and even though you must have heard these songs it’s easy to miss the connection. I have uploaded some audio clips by adding the &lt;i style=""&gt;inspirational&lt;/i&gt; and the &lt;i style=""&gt;inspired&lt;/i&gt; music together into 25 to 35 sec pieces. Also have put the relevant time label for YouTube links where the particular line/music is played.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Mukhda of the &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWuJak5TVw8"&gt;title song of FIZA&lt;/a&gt;(@1:12-1:13-1:47)      was filler music in &lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCyfB-mANQU"&gt;Kitabein bahut si&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt; of BAAZIGAR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt; (@1:45-2:03).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;table bgcolor="#000000" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a style="left: 0px ! important; top: 0px ! important;" title="Click here to block this object with Adblock Plus" class="abp-objtab-09452520178192794 visible ontop" href="http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/esnips_player.swf"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;embed quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" bgcolor="#000" src="http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/esnips_player.swf" flashvars="theTheme=gold&amp;amp;autoPlay=no&amp;amp;theFile=http://www.esnips.com//nsdoc/a76072f5-2e0a-46af-bca8-c95cef59ee3c&amp;amp;theName=fiza&amp;amp;thePlayerURL=http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/mp3WidgetPlayer.swf" width="328" height="94"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table style="font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; padding-left: 2px; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); text-decoration: none; font-size: 10px; font-weight: bold;" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); text-decoration: none;" href="http://www.esnips.com/CreateWidgetAction.ns?type=0&amp;amp;objectid=a76072f5-2e0a-46af-bca8-c95cef59ee3c"&gt;     Get this widget &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size: 7px; font-weight: normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); text-decoration: none;" href="http://www.esnips.com/doc/a76072f5-2e0a-46af-bca8-c95cef59ee3c/fiza/?widget=flash_player_esnips_gold"&gt;     Track details  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size: 7px; font-weight: normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); text-decoration: none;" href="http://www.esnips.com//adserver/?action=visit&amp;amp;cid=player_dna&amp;amp;url=/socialdna"&gt;   eSnips Social DNA    &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Mukhda of another song &lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;a href="http://video.aol.com/video-detail/shilpa-shetty-lml-baba-lml-haathkadi-1995/1852838462"&gt;LML      baba LML&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt; (@1:00-1:14)from &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0260066/"&gt;HATHKADI&lt;/a&gt; got its music      from filler music in the same song &lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCyfB-mANQU"&gt;Kitabein bahut si &lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;from Baazigar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt; (@0:40-0:50 etc.).      Volume of the first part in the clip is bit low, turn up your speakers!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table bgcolor="#000000" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;embed quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" bgcolor="#000" width="328" height="94" src="http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/esnips_player.swf" flashvars="theTheme=gold&amp;amp;autoPlay=no&amp;amp;theFile=http://www.esnips.com//nsdoc/f8e7b2fb-0bc9-41b5-8eaf-c5f8e015bec9&amp;amp;theName=lml&amp;amp;thePlayerURL=http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/mp3WidgetPlayer.swf"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="2" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; padding-left:2px; color:#FFFFFF; text-decoration:none ; ; font-size:10px; font-weight:bold"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a style="color:#FFFFFF; text-decoration:none " href="http://www.esnips.com/CreateWidgetAction.ns?type=0&amp;amp;objectid=f8e7b2fb-0bc9-41b5-8eaf-c5f8e015bec9"&gt;     Get this widget &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size:7px; font-weight:normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color:#FFFFFF; text-decoration:none " href="http://www.esnips.com/doc/f8e7b2fb-0bc9-41b5-8eaf-c5f8e015bec9/lml/?widget=flash_player_esnips_gold"&gt;     Track details  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size:7px; font-weight:normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color:#FF6600; text-decoration:none" href="http://www.esnips.com//adserver/?action=visit&amp;amp;cid=player_dna&amp;amp;url=/socialdna"&gt;   eSnips Social DNA    &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Similarly Mukhda &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zegQceNyMWs"&gt;of &lt;i style=""&gt;ishq hua, kaise hua &lt;/i&gt;from ISHQ&lt;/a&gt; (@1:04-1:40) had its music      in another &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=47hW018xyvU"&gt;song of      Baazigar, &lt;i style=""&gt;ae mere humsafar&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;      (@0:13-0:34)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table bgcolor="#000000" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a style="left: 0px ! important; top: 0px ! important;" title="Click here to block this object with Adblock Plus" class="abp-objtab-09452520178192794 visible ontop" href="http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/esnips_player.swf"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;embed quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" bgcolor="#000" src="http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/esnips_player.swf" flashvars="theTheme=gold&amp;amp;autoPlay=no&amp;amp;theFile=http://www.esnips.com//nsdoc/690eb799-438d-42e9-abda-55e22942bc72&amp;amp;theName=ishq hua&amp;amp;thePlayerURL=http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/mp3WidgetPlayer.swf" width="328" height="94"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table style="font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; padding-left: 2px; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); text-decoration: none; font-size: 10px; font-weight: bold;" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); text-decoration: none;" href="http://www.esnips.com/CreateWidgetAction.ns?type=0&amp;amp;objectid=690eb799-438d-42e9-abda-55e22942bc72"&gt;     Get this widget &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size: 7px; font-weight: normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); text-decoration: none;" href="http://www.esnips.com/doc/690eb799-438d-42e9-abda-55e22942bc72/ishq-hua/?widget=flash_player_esnips_gold"&gt;     Track details  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size: 7px; font-weight: normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); text-decoration: none;" href="http://www.esnips.com//adserver/?action=visit&amp;amp;cid=player_dna&amp;amp;url=/socialdna"&gt;   eSnips Social DNA    &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p  style="text-align: justify;font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The common music director to all the above songs is… you know it right, Anu Malik. And I thought this is something just he does, until I found this one by Jatin Lalit, connecting DDLJ and Mohabbatein.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The line &lt;i style=""&gt;hum zulfein to bikhra de&lt;/i&gt; from song &lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NfMXIth6Lgs"&gt;humko humhi se chura lo&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt; (Mohabbatein)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt; (@2:54-3:05) was from      the biggest hits of its times &lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EFlEvJdRgao"&gt;tujhe dekha to ye jaana      sanam &lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;(DDLJ)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;(@3:22-3:33). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table bgcolor="#000000" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a style="left: 0px ! important; top: 0px ! important;" title="Click here to block this object with Adblock Plus" class="abp-objtab-09452520178192794 visible ontop" href="http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/esnips_player.swf"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;embed quality="high" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" bgcolor="#000" src="http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/esnips_player.swf" flashvars="theTheme=gold&amp;amp;autoPlay=no&amp;amp;theFile=http://www.esnips.com//nsdoc/80ec1e8f-764e-4c86-8716-ecdb0d3abdd9&amp;amp;theName=humkohumise tujhe dekha&amp;amp;thePlayerURL=http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/mp3WidgetPlayer.swf" width="328" height="94"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table style="font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; padding-left: 2px; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); text-decoration: none; font-size: 10px; font-weight: bold;" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); text-decoration: none;" href="http://www.esnips.com/CreateWidgetAction.ns?type=0&amp;amp;objectid=80ec1e8f-764e-4c86-8716-ecdb0d3abdd9"&gt;     Get this widget &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size: 7px; font-weight: normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="center"&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); text-decoration: none;" href="http://www.esnips.com/doc/80ec1e8f-764e-4c86-8716-ecdb0d3abdd9/humkohumise-tujhe-dekha/?widget=flash_player_esnips_gold"&gt;     Track details  &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="font-size: 7px; font-weight: normal;"&gt;|&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a align="center" style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); text-decoration: none;" href="http://www.esnips.com//adserver/?action=visit&amp;amp;cid=player_dna&amp;amp;url=/socialdna"&gt;   eSnips Social DNA    &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 115%;font-size:11;"&gt;I am sure there are many examples like these but they are so common and so into our faces that we fail to recognize them. There were some more I knew of but have forgotten now. Let me know if noticed any other anywhere. You could also suggest a new title for the post :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Just in case the audio player isn't working, you may click on the song names and visit their YouTube links. Time at which the relevant portions occur have been mentioned against the names.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-7648387976774828108?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/7648387976774828108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=7648387976774828108' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/7648387976774828108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/7648387976774828108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2008/06/self-plagiarism-or-something-bollywood.html' title='Self plagiarism or something! (Bollywood music)'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-4534266405727884020</id><published>2008-05-12T13:51:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-04T23:00:44.121+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='incident'/><title type='text'>Scoring Mumbai</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mumbai was losing.&lt;br /&gt;8'o clock, I leave my office after my first day at the internship. I walk straight to marine drive and then walk along it till the Chaupati. Meanwhile something reminds me that I have to use the net to download 2 files, print them and fax them. While walking along the marine drive I note that there isn't one phone booth to be seen nor any internet cafe.&lt;br /&gt;So at Chaupati I decide to cross the marine drive and go into the land to find something. Even when I get in all I could find were eateries and showrooms. Suddenly I see a PCO and next to it a board which said, STD, ISD, FAX. I was delighted, if i have these, internet won't be far... But when i asked the guy it turned out that the board was misleading. The shop to which the board belonged wasn't open. I was dissappointed. It seemed to me that I won't be able to do it tonight. It was 9 already. That was when a middle aged lady asked me, "are you looking for fax?" I said I was. "what time is it?", I said 9. "Do you know this place?", I said no. "Ok, hurry, you see that lane, go into it and take the first right, you will find everything there, its getting late so rush, go." I didn't take time to think any further, I just recorded the message and started for the place I was directed to. I don't remember if I even thanked the lady. The fact that I found internet, printer and fax there doesn't make much of a difference. What I was impressed with was the nature of the people and the eagerness to help someone out. To call and provide help even when not asked for. This event was just an example. I am sure people like me come across thousands of ladies and &lt;em&gt;gentle&lt;/em&gt;men, everyday in Mumbai.&lt;br /&gt;Pardon me if I am getting biased,&lt;br /&gt;score 1-1&lt;br /&gt;PS-I could have given another point just for the walk along the queen's necklace, but I controlled the temptation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-4534266405727884020?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/4534266405727884020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=4534266405727884020' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/4534266405727884020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/4534266405727884020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2008/05/scoring-mumbai.html' title='Scoring Mumbai'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-5663042379611846158</id><published>2008-04-28T09:45:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-04T23:00:44.121+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='incident'/><title type='text'>I hope she is fine</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After watching IPLT20 matches at &lt;a href="http://www.tendulkarsworld.com/#"&gt;Tendulkar's &lt;/a&gt;I came back to my hostel room in St. Xavier's at 11:30pm to find that a) the room was locked &amp;amp; b) I didn't have the keys. I tried calling my roommate but he won't pick up. After several attempts at that I thought I'll do what I always wanted to... walk to marine drive and sit there for a while. I knew I had time for that as entry to the hostel closes on weekends only at 01:25am. I walked along the fashion street and passed Churchgate to reach marine-drive in some 20-25 minutes. I looked for a gap to sit and made myself comfortable there. It’s awesome. The cool breeze never stops. The waves keep coming and breaking on the rocks and those concrete tetrahedrish structures. I thanked my room-mate for being late. By that time I couldn't help notice that there was a girl sitting to my left, about 10 feet away, alone. Now this is something I had never seen before on the marine drive. You see couples; you see groups. You even see some men sitting there alone. But I had never seen a girl sitting alone. And she didn't seem happy. I took a short glance at her. She was uncomfortable. She would cover her face in the dupatta while looking at the sea. It seemed to me if she was trying not to cry. Anyway, none of my business... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Soon I could hear sobs. I wasn't mistaken. She was crying. I turned my head again, pretended to look at something else and turned back. Yes, she was crying. Now my head was in action. What could it be? Maybe she got stood up. Or worse still, she got dumped! Why do people even fall into all this? Why do people trust someone so much and give them so much importance that they could hurt you? I have seen in movies when people see total strangers in trouble or grief and reach out to help. Or they see someone crying and ask if they could help someway. I was in no mood for doing that. As I said… none of my business. Still, in my head I was reciting some lines which could suit the occasion. "Can I help you in some way?" "Excuse me, do you have a problem?" "Why are you crying?" "Excuse me sir!" This line, the last one, I didn't come up with that. I turned my head towards her, she was talking to me. "Excuse me sir", she said again, "Is it OK if I come and sit near you?" She was still in tears. She was too scared. I could guess why she could have said that. There was a guy sitting to her left, and he seemed to be looking at her continuously. But I wasn't 100% sure. However at that moment, I couldn't think of any other answer than no. She took her bag, her sandals, came and sat near me, still crying. Then she said. "That guy over there is looking at me and making some signals." So I was right. I peeked over her and saw that man. He was sitting there facing us, instead of the sea and looked at him for some time. He was now looking away. "Sir, I am very nervous, he is looking at me and making some signals like this." I wasn't sure about what hand signals she made, or were they even anything. I just said, "You don't have to look that side" Anyway in a minute that man walked away. I asked her if she has some problem to which she said "No sir, sometimes I get nervous". She didn't get the question it seems and said some other random things I don't remember. I also told her to go home and asked what she was doing here at that time. She said, ”kisi ka intezar". “How typical”, I said to myself and thought maybe I was right in the guesses I was making earlier. "Thank you sir", "Sir I am sorry I disturbed you." She repeated the sorry line so many times I stopped saying anything to that anymore. After a couple of minutes she took her belongings and moved away to where she was sitting before.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Soon she asked me what the time was. "12:35", I said. "Sir, where do you have to go?" "VT", I said. "Sir, mujhe churchgate tak chhor doge", "Aaiye", I said. We were now walking towards churchgate station and she was talking things which were not interesting me and kind of confusing me about her situation, until something reminded her of that man again and she started sobbing. A lady coming from the opposite side saw her and gave me a disgusted look. I asked her not to cry and that she shouldn’t talk or think about that. She asked me where I was supposed to go and I partially told her my situation. She suddenly got excited and said "Sir! Then you can sit with me at the station as long as you have to". "No, it’s ok, I'll leave now" I said. "No sir, I don't have any problem, you can sit with me here." I said no again making it clear this time that I would be late otherwise. "Koi baat nahi sir. aapko jana hai to jao. mujhe to wait karna hoga subah tak, Virar ki train tabhi milegi. but thik hai, station par police rahti hai. light rahta hai. I hope didi mil jayegi abhi." "Kaun didi?" I asked, "koi police wali?" "No", she said, "wo yaha rahti hai." I didn't get her but also didn’t want to inquire any further. We were at the church gate now and she took a turn and started walking into the station, perhaps not knowing that I wasn’t walking with her anymore. She doesn’t need me now and I have to leave anyway. I stood there and watched her disappear in the crowds and started my walk back to the hostel. I narrated the incident to someone when I came back. “So filmy!”, I was told. Filmy… slightly yes, after all, fiction comes from the real.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-5663042379611846158?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/5663042379611846158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=5663042379611846158' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/5663042379611846158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/5663042379611846158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-hope-she-is-fine.html' title='I hope she is fine'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-1978479038309933689</id><published>2008-04-07T16:47:00.010+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-04T23:00:44.121+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='incident'/><title type='text'>scoring Mumbai (0-1)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Reminded of the episode on F.R.I.E.N.D.S where Phoebe goes on giving points to Las Vegas and London to know which is better. I landed in Mumbai yesterday and have seen some of it already and have started scoring Mumbai, against... well itself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The morning started with us reaching Mumbai half hour ahead of the schedule on LTT at around 4:15 am. A friend was expected to come there to receive us (yes, at 5 in the morning!) but the unexptected arrival made sure that he couldn't make it. We had to go to Kurla local station to take a train which would take me to VT (CST, whatever) and Mithun to Byculla. But when we came down from the train there and gathered courage to move with the luggage, with no coolies around, we met the first devil from Mumbai... a taxi driver.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A taxi driver is a species always ready to &lt;em&gt;literally&lt;/em&gt; take people travelling for the first time to Mumbai for a ride. Even though I was told that you can walk from LTT to Kurla stn, I wasn't sure if we were in the condition to do that, mostly because of the luggage and partly because &lt;a href="http://www.orkut.com/Profile.aspx?uid=18202945160636306472"&gt;the person &lt;/a&gt;who had told me that it was a walkable distance also had taken a whole lot of tired people from CST to Gateway saying "bas pahuch gaye". So we decided to take the taxi. the taxi driver and his accompliced were very interested in us. Had to be, new faces in town (city), heavy luggage, confused conversations, indecisiveness. In fact we were so indecisive that after sitting in the taxi and loading all the luggage, we decided once to walk, however hard that would be, and whatever time that may take, suspecting that something is fishy with the projections from those two people. Inconsistency in what is the approx distance we need to travel and what time it would take. And of course taxi couldn't take the route people walk and will have to go a long way. Anyway we were back in our seats ready to go to Kurla. They soon knew where we ultimately needed to go. They tried convincing us that with such luggage it was impssible to travel on a local, but 5'o clock in the morning on a Sunday, we were ready for it. So now they knew we didn't want to go that far in their taxi. So their returns had to maximized within the short distance that is between LTT and Kurla.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I had never been to that part of the city but it seemed to that instead of taking a chord, we were covering the major segment of the circumference of a circle. It must have taken us some 15 minutes or even less to reach Kurla station. The taxi driver proudly showed us the board saying Kurla to prove that we were taken to the right place and thus not cheated. But now came the surprise. Demanded fare, Rs. 170... only. It seemed we were taken from Airport to Taj in a Merc. Well, had Taj been that close to the airport. Both sides started bickering. Mithun was in a mix of surprise, anger and wtf. They were much more animated and aggressive. I saw all the tactics and lines being tried there, "take your money, I don't want it"(followed by one guy leaving and other staying back), "&lt;em&gt;bohni&lt;/em&gt; ka time hai", "dimag mat kharab kar", "we aren't asking for alms", "i am only asking what the meter shows", "do you think the meter is false?", "chalo (police) chowki chalo, wahi baat hoga", "samaan waapas daalo gadi me" and what not. All crap you can think of. By this Mithun had offered them Rs. 50/- which seemed to be only a little over what it should have been for the distance travelled. Seeing that 170 was a little too much they asked for they also started to come down. 160, 150, 120, etc. Ultimately we settled for 75/- feeling bad about parting away with the money, and good about parting away with those 2.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Thus Mumbai goes down 0-1&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;NB-reminds me of a quote, "only the strong survive" from my &lt;em&gt;I3&lt;/em&gt; t-shirt.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-1978479038309933689?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/1978479038309933689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=1978479038309933689' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/1978479038309933689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/1978479038309933689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2008/04/mumbai-scores.html' title='scoring Mumbai (0-1)'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-8898793383064145148</id><published>2007-12-16T03:21:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-04T23:18:04.298+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='i thought so'/><title type='text'>have you been good?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;While I was a kid and growing up, I thought I am the one child every parent would like to have. I am the kind of kid every parent asks his/her child to be. Reason, I never fought with anyone, I never snatched chocolates from another kid's hand, I never ran away refusing to come back, I never wrote on anyone's white shirt, I rarely did anything which would annoy my parents. My wrong doings were limited only to distaste of food, occasional obstinateness over some toys and some harmless things. I thought this is how everyone should be. And those who were not, were bad boys and had unfortunate parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Few years later the definitions of the bad boy changed. They used to throw chalks at each other, call names, cheat comfortably in small exams, argue with teachers, tease friends, and a lot of things I can't recall. There parents often got called and were let known that their son(forgive gender discrimination, I have practically been in boys schools &lt;a href="http://www.rkmvndp.org/"&gt;here,&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://davjvm.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.iitkgp.ac.in/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;, until now) wasn't being good. I silently felt proud of not letting my parents go through the humiliation. I wasn't one of them, but many of my friends were. I had started to see the fun in what they did. I could vicariously feel the pleasure they derived. But probably I didn't dare be like them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I can say that we are grown ups, and personality and character wise we have quite become what we will be for times to come. Now when I look around to find out who are the interesting ones in the lot, I realize most of them are the bad boys. When 4 guys sit together and talk about their school days 95% of the talk is about how they gave the authorities a hard time. How they bunked school, how they came back jumping walls, how they avoided home work, even how they were beaten up and were still laughing before the executor. Most of the lines which I say in such meetings start with "you know in school my friend did...", "some guys in my neighborhood used to...". I don't have a story of my own, I didn't do any such thing as I was busy being the good boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And its not just about we telling stories about each other. When you meet a school teacher after years, either he will remember you as the class topper, or as a naughty little kid. Other wise you are just another character from the drama played long ago. And when he talks about a naughty kid, he will not be angry on him anymore, he will have a hearty laugh about those times. Perhaps teachers also don't take the stupid mischiefs to their heart. Maybe at some levels they enjoy it too, at least in retrospect. I should have known it then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is true at least for the parents. Unless you were daily visitor to the principals office and your diary was full of expulsion threats, any pranks would only give your parents memories for ever. Incidents which they will refer to when talking about you, or to you all your life. "how funny it was, when he used to run to the guests to show them his new underwear", "remember how he used to come home all dirty" There are 100's of examples you can think of and your parents won't wish any of them never happened. They will love it anyway. I should have known it then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I could have afforded living a different life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-8898793383064145148?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/8898793383064145148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=8898793383064145148' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/8898793383064145148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/8898793383064145148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2007/12/have-you-been-good.html' title='have you been good?'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-7011101260187063741</id><published>2007-12-13T12:22:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-12-13T12:48:59.873+05:30</updated><title type='text'>tag#1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am thinking about&lt;/span&gt;: the end terms, just 3 days away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I said&lt;/span&gt;: i am not hungry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I want to&lt;/span&gt;: manage my time better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I wish&lt;/span&gt;: i found what i want in life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I regret&lt;/span&gt;: not trying a lot of things i could have&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I hear&lt;/span&gt;: "juda hoke bhi, tu mujhme kahi baaki hai"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am&lt;/span&gt;: not really what you think&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I dance&lt;/span&gt;: all the time, you can say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I sing&lt;/span&gt; : and i am awesome, just ask my neighbors&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I cry&lt;/span&gt;: mostly when watching movies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am not&lt;/span&gt;: really what you think&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I write&lt;/span&gt;: to amuse myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I confuse&lt;/span&gt;: others by trying to hide something when they can't find their phone, pen, etc.&lt;br /&gt;[as if i have actually taken that]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I need&lt;/span&gt;: someone, but who?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-7011101260187063741?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/7011101260187063741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=7011101260187063741' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/7011101260187063741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/7011101260187063741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2007/12/tag1.html' title='tag#1'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-8592884697573508351</id><published>2007-12-12T15:20:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-12-12T15:34:34.658+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Funny professors</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I don't know whether this blog is a place where I should post this but I don't have any where else to go. I have a lot of fading memories about my teachers in school and even college which cross my mind every now and then. Will just try to pen(kbd) them down for public use.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;One history teacher in my school used to take a long time in checking the answer scripts. If you know about the West Bengal board syllabus I don't have to tell you about the number of pages the students are supposed to write there. A rough estimate will be 27-30 foolscap pages. Now Paritosh-da would read each and every word of those answers, something you might not expect from a history teacher, leave comments, underline points, strike out mistakes, etc. Ultimately a student would have more red ink on his paper than blue. One of my friends who was quite like me when it came to history (read miserable) probably thought he should take cues from the corrections in his answer sheet and improve. There was one comment scribbled illegibly which he failed to decipher. After giving it some thought and consulting with mates he decided to take up the matter with sir. He went to him and asked what he had written there. Paritosh-da took the script. Strained his eyes and said, "It says... bad handwriting" :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-8592884697573508351?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/8592884697573508351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=8592884697573508351' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/8592884697573508351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/8592884697573508351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2007/12/funny-professors.html' title='Funny professors'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-7752013240065276230</id><published>2007-11-13T02:23:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-12-13T12:20:49.158+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Cought with pants down(the climax)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So &lt;a href="http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2006/11/cought-with-pants-down-conspiracy.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; is how I got my leave approved. Taking such leaves has its own disadvantages. You can't risk being seen outside. Its like a house arrest. I had heard about it from seniors, now it was the time to experience it. My days only began after 8.45 am. Time at which all the Maruti employees are inside, or late. Before that I couldn't even risk being seen in the balcony. Not that I am a camera shy superstar but one little glitch could ruin it all. I had a good reputation in the company you know, to live up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the first day it seemed like I had zillions of days ahead of me to prepare for the dreaded exam called CAT. I decided to do something I always wanted to do but couldn't because of lack of enthusiasm and initiation. I took up some book, I think it was the Alchemist, or was it the brief history of time? I don't remember. Because I didn't finish the book. I read a lot of newspapers. I realized how long 24 hours can be. Lunch and dinner was supplied by my food caterer (dabba wallah) at time, so I didn't even have to walk out of the house for any thing at all. This is something I was very particular about. I didn't even open the door when someone rang our bell. Reason being, most of the time it was for my land lords downstairs, apart from that I didn't want to come out and sign any courier receipts which will leave a sign of my presence at the scene of crime. So this is how I passed 4 days, locked up inside the flat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it was Wednesday night when my cousin-sister called me up and said she needed to hunt for flats in Gurgaon. That meant I will have to accompany her. That's fine, but I was on Agyat vaas. But what the hell. I was safe to move out of the house as long as it was between 8.45 am and 5.30 pm. All the people I worked with were too busy to come out of office during these times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Thursday noon it was the first time I ventured out of my flat after Saturday. I and didi went to n number of property brokers and saw n^m number of flats. It was horrible. Some places were actually not worth living. And the good ones were out of budget, whatever. Soon it was past 3. Even though my deadline of getting back into my shell was quite away I started feeling like a nocturnal vampire before sunrise. We wrapped up for the day. We were in the middle of the busiest market in that area then (sector 14). I was walking, and what did I see? Actually, who did I see? 2 of my dept seniors walking towards me with hands full of packets from Omjee sweets. One of them lived upstairs and knew my little secret. The other one was even more senior and I mostly worked under his guidance. Both of them smiled at me, as I was at them. One of them had the expression saying, "Ab tera kya hoga kaliyaaa, huhaha". The second one was just ."achchha, to ye baat hai!!!". Anyway we stopped and greeted each other. The first thing he asked me was, "aa gaye?"I told them we were looking for a flat for my sister and even asked the second senior who had just married about options to look from. In a minute I came to know the reason they were here. It was about a dept mates farewell party. They were having it today in tea time. And they had come to collect the food. Of all the days they had to have it THIS day. And of all the days I had to come out here THIS day. And of all the hours I had to come to THIS place at THIS hour, THIS minute. What are the odds?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After they left all i could think of the worst repercussions of this which went to the extent of me having to resign before I had planned to, owing to strained relationship with my department. After seeing off didi, I was soon at my room when I got a call from a colleague in Maruti. This is exactly how the conversation went. "Hello", Hello, Rohit?" "Hi, Naveen! :( " "Kya kar raha hai?" "Kuchh nahi, time pass" "Kahaa hai?". I knew by this time his intention behind the question, still I said,"Ghar pe" and he said, "Kaun se ghar? HAHAHA". He was an addition to the number of people who knew my secret. And now I had no control on the population of the species! In my imaginations I could see it growing at a wild pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next 3 days were spent by me in terror. I was too scared to even try finding out the damage that had been done. I just kept mum and imagined the worst possibilities. That's almost all I did at home and soon I was in my office on Monday morning. To give credibility to my well thought of, faultless conspiracy I was carrying some Prasad which didi had brought from Muzaffarpur. I was greeted with smiles. I reciprocated. In some time i realized that only three people knew about this episode, the number had not grown. I was relieved, but also realized probably I had taken a huge risk. And the whole week I didn't even study, out or boredom and fright. Basically on returns for the risk. And using the theories of financial management a risk which wasn't worth taking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-7752013240065276230?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/7752013240065276230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=7752013240065276230' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/7752013240065276230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/7752013240065276230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2007/11/cought-with-pants-downthe-climax.html' title='Cought with pants down(the climax)'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-2004126781179817811</id><published>2007-11-11T02:13:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-10T03:08:28.653+05:30</updated><title type='text'>SIPping joy out of life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;For the uninitiated, SIP stands for Summer Internship Process. To get placed for summers we recently had our own summer placement sessions. From the outside it may seem that being in a premier B-school and carrying a lot of brands of previous education and work experience, getting placed must have been a cake walk. But it wasn't. The worst part is I don't know why. Okay, I was under prepared, I am casual at times, I don't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;take load&lt;/span&gt; (worry about: kgp lingo) of things much. But I was surprised how the companies could make that out from just my CV!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will try not to focus on the big names which visited the campus and the process so that I am not convicted of revealing too much info to outsiders. It's supposed to be a serious offense in a B-school. However the importance will be on the emotions I(more generally, We) went through and the reasons behind them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two days before the process begun shortlists started coming from companies we had applied for. I was there in the first 2 which were published and there were people who were in none. Pity! Poor guys, not getting even shortlisted. Not even getting the chance to show the hirers their worth. At least I wasn't one of them. Still I was not very excited either as none of these companies offered me what I wanted... something called hardcore finance roles (I don't know what that really means, please find out yourself!). As I was basking in the glory of getting a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;high&lt;/span&gt; number of shortlists other companies kept pouring with their lists. Something changed. My name wasn't appearing in any. And that became the norm. Out of the 15 odd companies which published their shortlists before the placement process started I had my name in TWO of them! That did some damage to my self confidence. People always say, these lists are random. That is a truth but not completely. Some CV's are excellent, and they get max no. of shortlists. They are easy to spot. Few peculiar ones are relatively easy to reject / ignore from any companies point of view. But the big lot of decent CV's are where the randomization occurs. I don't know which case I was. An unlucky member of the decent CV group or a lucky one from the peculiars who still managed 2 calls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the process starts almost the whole batch sits in a hall fully dressed up in formals to be called for the interview/ group discussions from time to time. Good thing is, I didn't have to. Didn't have that many calls :D So, after reporting to the placement people in the morning I came back to my room and did what I love to do, till 2.30 pm. Sleep. I even skipped the lunch hour. After that I came to know of 2 more calls I had taking my count to 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That didn't make me feel any better? You know why? Since 3 of them had group discussions. Something I haven't really cleared in my whole life! Nor did I hope to in a place full of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;MBA students&lt;/span&gt;. You know how fiercely aggressive and competitive they can be. I had a direct interview with a consulting firm, didn't go well. Lots of ifs and buts raised, grammatically wrong words pointed out, still I didn't reject it as a lost cause until results were out. I failed another GD. Somehow a company which is supposed to offer best projects in operations in campus called me for the interview, even though I was not that vocal in the GD. I had to apply for operations in the company as they withdrew the offer of finance roles. May be someone finally noticed something good in my background. But in the interview I made it clear about the kind of project I was looking for in operations. (Un)fortunately I was asking for something they didn't have. On mutual consent I walked out of the room rejected. I don't know how I managed to take that risk. I mean I was walking away from arguably the best company in its field which was again specially interested in me. I didn't have any good shortlists in slot one. What guarantee could I have for slot two. What if I end up going to a company selling FMCG. The bigger issue was, companies I am interested in don't shortlist me. How and why will companies which go against my career interests select me. I can't bluff in an interview. There is no way I can convince some one that I will sell all the soap or paste or cream or drink or newspaper you want me too. No way. Basically when I walked out of the room, I walked precisely into nowhere. Needless to say I got rejected from all the other GDs I had and was out of the race. By this time all the glorious $ stipend companies had announced results and there was a lot of hugging, shouting and clapping. Whatev'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Into slot two. This is the interesting part. You have independence of applying to companies in slot two right-on-the-spot, because most of the people shortlisted originally have been placed. So it seemed like finally we would get a chance. But that was just what I was thinking. At the end of first day of this slot, I only had one bad telephonic interview(no GD for this company) and few GDs (all rejections). In fact the calls were so few that I even stopped asking people if my name was on any list, as I would assume otherwise and just cross check to confirm later. I would start reading about any company in advance and stop reading as soon as the shortlist would publish. I was pretty cool until now. I was just taking it as another practical joke. No company wants me, haha. Any company doesn't even wanna see me, hahahaha. But i knew it wasn't funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day four (slot 2, day 2). Things were getting out of hand. It was important for the school to get everyone placed and for that it was important that I get placed. So I could see my name on every other S&amp;amp;M company list now. I don't want to go there. I will not only ruin my summers but also theirs, to my full might. I wanted to try something in finance. But at the same time I was applying to almost every company now. It was a desperate situation. 3 1/2 days gone, nothing yet in hand. I was cursing myself. At what point in my career did I go wrong. No gaps or breaks in education. IIT Kharagpur - Mechanical Engineering. Couldn't have been better. Then a job in arguably the best manufacturing set-up in India, that too in production. It was all so smooth and meant to be. Then suddenly to MBA? That too looking for finance? and applying to S&amp;amp;M. Boss, things are really out of place. Me and a lot of my friends with similar qualms had formed a well and were cursing just anything and everything, starting with ourselves. It seemed like coming to do an MBA itself was the biggest mistake. Some of the girls had already started to cry and guys had become obnoxious. And the people who had already been placed became angels. They would console us, teach us, feed us, encourage us. They were doing a good thing but sometimes it did make us feel like piteous. You can't even refuse their services as you not only need them but also don't want them to think "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bhalai ka to zamana hi nahi raha&lt;/span&gt;". I took undue advantage of the situation as well. When else would I get the opportunity to be served by the prettiest and the nicest of the girls in the campus. I even behaved like a kid who is hungry for anything being served and would make demands of his own, ("nahi... humko chocolate khana hai, uwaaan, uwaaan"). I don't know what people thought about me on that, but I was given all i wanted :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway finally the calls started coming. I had 2 more telephonic interviews which I thought went well and a series of GDs, all of which bombed! I was still stubborn enough not to apply to many companies and was kind of readying myself for a possible slot three. After 930 pm, there were no activities. Some lucky ones were going through the process and we were just waiting for the results. Results were then announced, alphabetically. I got placed. In fact the company was at the top of my priority list. At that moment I couldn't have been happier. What also made me happy is that many of my friends got placed in fin roles as they would have liked to. Finally they had a reason to smile. But what made the celebrations dull was the fact that there were a few friends still to be placed. I know it would happen soon, but still... So this is how yet another eagerly awaited and anticipated chapter ended. As a friend rightly said a game full of bargaining and auction, a once in a lifetime experience. Actually it will be a twice in a lifetime thing. Having gone through the SIP I am only waiting for the CRP to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-2004126781179817811?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/2004126781179817811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=2004126781179817811' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/2004126781179817811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/2004126781179817811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2007/11/sipping-joy-out-of-life.html' title='SIPping joy out of life'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-3474003541067774706</id><published>2007-10-06T14:56:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-28T17:49:29.492+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>No smoking</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We were at the Muzaffarpur Railway Station waiting for Vaishali Express. My parents had come to see me off. There were quite a few other relatives too, although I am having a hard time recalling who exactly they were. At the station I found another friend of mine also waiting for the same train. &lt;a href="http://www.orkut.com/Profile.aspx?uid=12962770716479880365"&gt; Jai&lt;/a&gt;.His father and brother had also come to the station. The train must have been at least half hour from then to arrive. I don't know what my friend was doing there.  He had a  habit of leaving his house only when he got the information that the train had reached the previous station. And the best way to get the information was probably just to peep out of his rear window. I am not making this up. Trust me. He left his quarters in Ramdayalu Singh College campus only when the train approached Ramdayalu station. Unfortunately the station wasn't important enough for the train to stop.&lt;br /&gt;Enough about my friend and his &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/JIT"&gt;JIT&lt;/a&gt; habits, it was the regular phenomenon of waiting at the station. Nothing exciting or worth mentioning about it. All of a sudden I saw a girl walking on the platform across with one of those trolley bags along with her parents. I knew &lt;a href="http://www.orkut.com/FriendsList.aspx?uid=8903436443241405043"&gt;her&lt;/a&gt;. And somehow I also knew that she was traveling in the same train as us, alone. I don't know how I knew that. Any way I waved my hand at her and gestured her that the train is coming at this platform and not the one they were on. She understood my signs and took a U-turn to come to our platform. All of a sudden the platform became crowded. And without any warning, the train arrived. That too at another platform. It was all so confusing. Anyway we(Jai and I) loaded all our baggages in a Jeep to go the platform where the train had arrived. After both the families took seats in the Jeep, there was hardly any place for me to sit. Still I managed to squeeze myself between the driver and the co-driver.&lt;br /&gt;The driver drove carefully to our train and we boarded it. After adjusting the luggage, I remembered the girl. I wasn't sure if she had made to the train already. I was kind of worried. At the same time I felt like meeting her. So I left my bogie and walked along the platform to find her. After walking a few paces I saw someone at a distance looking quite like her. At least (s)he was dressed like her. And lo, she was smoking! I didn't know she smoked. and wasn't she afraid her parents would see her? Come on... why was I thinking so much. I didn't even know if this is her! But I had to find out. So I walked hastily towards her. Suddenly everything started blur in front of my eyes. Was I fainting? Was I falling unconscious? On a railway station, that could be dangerous. But actually something opposite was happening. It was late morning. And I was just waking up. Not in Muzaffarpur but in Jamshedpur. Weird dream. Well most dreams are weird. They fail to make any sense, don't they? Let me know if you could guess what was going on, or if you can make any sense of any of the above.&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-3474003541067774706?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/3474003541067774706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=3474003541067774706' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/3474003541067774706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/3474003541067774706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2007/10/no-smoking.html' title='No smoking'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-8447997319903904329</id><published>2007-07-27T02:33:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-04T22:59:42.832+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='incident'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='interview'/><title type='text'>Small blunder</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;27th March. This is the day my IIM-I interview was scheduled. Reporting time 9.30 am. I was not completely new to this feeling. I had appeared for XLRI interview few weeks back. You know this is one of days you don't want to leave anything to chance. Normally people like us usually travel in the most inconvenient ways in NCR. Those miserable autos in Gurgaon, and the crowded DTDC buses in Delhi. But that day you need a Taxi. I had booked one too, that would take me to the centre which was in some building in the Lodhi Road. To be extra cautious I had called the Taxi at 8 and contrary to what public opinion might be, you can be late but the Taxi won't. My getting ready was accelerated by the Taxi waiting outside the house from about 7.50am. That was about the same time when my fellow inmates were getting ready to leave for jobs(which I truly miss these days). Getting ready in formals, collecting my precious certificate folder, I briefly said bye to my friends and left.&lt;br /&gt;Probably the most common question you ask the driver when you start for an interview is "Bhai, how much time will it take." Only to find that even with allowances for a half an hour traffic jam, you will be there in time. But somehow you don't believe that. At every slow down of traffic, at every signal you get curious about what is happening. You don't want to get scared but you can't help it either. Specially when so much is at stake. 3 attempts at CAT and this single IIM call. This time you can't even use the excuse that you messed up a few questions here and there in the paper and that the method is not fair. Very uncertain. This time you are giving the panel some time to judge you. However small the span of interview be, it is your job to impress them. However, I was soon at the centre 45 minutes before time.&lt;br /&gt;Even though I am not a very convivial person I could find 2, 3 acquaintances from the CL centre Gurgaon. That didn't make it any comfortable for me but hopefully they felt good at finding a familiar face. Most of the guys were talking about their other IIM interviews and how they were thinking of skipping this one, but then just thought, "What the hell!". All of us being early at the centre had to wait quite a bit after which some Profs arrived at the centre and we were guided to the final waiting room.&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes of further wait, one of the Profs came and welcomed us. He said he will just take the attendance and then divide the groups for GD's according to the numbers present. He started taking the attendance. It was a long list. He kept calling the names one after another pausing and repeating the names of absentees to make sure they didn't miss it. And he was soon through with the list. I found something odd. My name was not called. My only IIM call. And the name wasn't there! The Prof started calling out the names of the absentees once again. A thorough analysis of the case indicated that among the 100 reasons why I didn't hear my name (e.g. interview letter sent to wrong person, name missed from list with them, name skipped while reading out, me not being attentive enough, etc.) one strong reason was that I had read the interview call letter wrong, or rather registered the wrong date in my head. In stead of approaching the Prof with my doubt immediately I chose to verify my credentials first. Quietly pulling out the letter from the folder I read it carefully. It read 29th March. Another thing need to be checked, today's date. My watch said its 27th. I could only smile now. It was a mixed emotion with a prominent flavour of relief. Relieved I was for the fact that I was not feeling very prepared for the interview. There were a lot of topics I had thought of studying and had not covered. But most importantly because the interview was 2 days hence and not 2 days ago!&lt;br /&gt;As soon as the Prof was done with attendance and left the room I quietly picked up my belongings and slipped out of the room quietly. I didn't speak a word or do a thing to attract his attention towards me as I don't wanted to look like an idiot before the person who could be my interviewer. As soon as reached the stairs I stopped. To make sure I really didn't have the interview today. I checked the papers and the dates again. I did that at least 5 times while still leaving the building. Still having made such a big mistake I was not sure of myself any more. So holding the letter in my hand and reading the date on it, I asked an auto-driver, what date was it today. He said it was 27th and only after that I was convinced enough to go leave the place.&lt;br /&gt;To end the post I dare the reader to quote the most careless thing you have done in your life, if it comes close to the above, or supersedes this(that way its good to know I am not the only one!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-8447997319903904329?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/8447997319903904329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=8447997319903904329' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/8447997319903904329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/8447997319903904329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2007/07/small-blunder.html' title='Small blunder'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-3427610690414739387</id><published>2007-05-22T23:08:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-04T22:59:42.833+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vacation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='incident'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion'/><title type='text'>Robbed in Gokul</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;That was supposed to be a quiet and devotional trip to the Gokul-Vrindavan-Mathura circuit with my complete family uniting after a long time. My parents had come over from Muzaffarpur and my elder brother did manage to join. We started early morning from Gurgaon in a cab booked for the whole day. It took us maybe 3 hours to reach the place. But when we were there we had no idea what to do now. The 3 places mentioned were in a radius of around 10-12 kms and even the driver had no idea about the place. So we decided to take some local help. Help was all there waiting for us. Some people who seemed to be like guides hovered around our car. We had no other option other than to ask for directions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The guides seemed to be nice. They told us about the directions in which the towns were located from that point. After proving that they are not all bad, they asked us to take a guide. In order to avoid them we told them that there wasn't much space in the car with 4+driver already seated. They suggested to take a junior guide who would fit our requirement, i mean car without using much space. The price quoted for the service of whole day was Rs 20. Much to my dismay it was decided that we will take the guide and he will travel with us hence forth practically in my lap.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Anyway he suggested that we move towards Gokul first. After some fifteen minutes of drive on the highway we entered the real Gokul. It was very sad to see that a place which is known to be a witness to all the bal-leelas and raas-leelas of Krishna in such sorry state. When we reached the residence of the Nand's who had adopted Krishna we were showed around their huge house. We were asked to bow to every other object or structure there. After showing us around the guide said took us to the door of what looked like a shrine or a prayer hall. Not much was visible inside from the entrance. He asked us all to sit down and gave us some instructions. That shrine was under government control and a freelancer guide like him wasn't allowed inside those doors while on duty. Once inside were not supposed to have the Darshan standing, our shadow shouldn't fall on the idols. We weren't supposed to throw money on the shrine, we were supposed to pay the Chadhawa and get the receipt for that. It all sounded very authentic. We had to leave the guide at the gate and as we entered the hall. It was a carpeted room which could accommodate around 100 devotees at bhajan time. At one end was something looking like a shrine behind the curtain. Near that was a small Aasan on that a Pujari. As usual a heavy and bearded person. He welcomed us and asked us to sit. He said we had come at a very good time as we were alone and could offer our Puja in peace. He repeated the exact words as said by our guide. As if they have memorized it from a common script, funny. I couldn't understand what attributed to this, strict and clear regulations or a set-up! We sat in an orientation suggested by the Pujari which was Mummy Papa sitting in front row and i sitting with bro behind, thus getting kind of getting a low preference in the process. After that he began with our introduction to the gods. Kind of went through our origins and current names and also told us about the importance of the place. THIS was supposed to be the exact coordinate were Yashoda brought up Krishna. As if it is the same house, could be. How I am supposed to know. We still have n'th generation Bodhi tree in Gaya! What's important is the sanctity of this place. Then he came to the point in a very straight forward manner. Options of Daan you can do to the shrine so that he opens the curtains for you and takes you through the shrine letting you touch the feet of the stone idols which are sitting there and waiting for people like us. The lowest would be 501/- then there were options about 2 grands and 5 grands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was shocked. Finally realized what the setup was all about. It wasn't flawless but we were in it. Had it not been for being with family, either I would have taken trouble with the people there, or walked out of the place fearing to get into the darker side of the whole thing. But I was sitting in that very place where Krishna was brought up(?) and with my parents who are quite religious at the same time aware of all the malpractices which go on in the backdrop. What is important to understand here is the paramount sanctitude of the place. It was an awfully uncomfortable situation. Without causing any disrespect to anyone or anything my father asked whether was any other option. That $#@$ smiled and said that you are wealthy and successful by god's grace. The contribution you make will only go to feed N poor people and M cows!!! Its all government fixed rates. Lacking experience in handling such demands shelled out the lowest fees we had to pay to see the god. The moment this happened I could feel the rush of blood in my head. I was feeling tied down on earth and being road-rolled. Awful...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the payment was made, the Puja and the proceedings continued but the world wasn't the same again. As I was mechanically do the processes to complete the Puja I was only thinking about how we got duped. I could not hear to what people were saying around me. I felt humiliated. I could hear the Pujari laughing at his success within his own. After we were done, we left the place with a box of sweets and i was trying to divide 501 by the no. of sweets to get the how much is each sweet worth! It was expensive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As directed by the guide we moved towards Mathura next. We had to trace back the road and we soon reached the place where we had found that crook, i mean guide. He said, please proceed to Mathura temple without me as we aren't allowed at all inside the premises of the Janmabhumi stepping down from the car he asked for his fees... 20/- My father put his point that the contract wasn't over as we were yet to see mathura and vrindavan, to which he said, "don't worry, you will find me here when you come back from mathura." And we stuck to our point that "fine, get your money then". And as the taxi moved ahead, he made no attempts to stop us. He was happy letting us go. This was the last bit of proof required of the fact that he had his fat commission in the 501/- we handed over to the fat bas**** in Gokul. No poor people and no poor cows to be fed, :D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that's not the end of the story! After mathura we reached Vrindavan where we got another guide for 20/-. He took us to show a lot of places before taking us to a temple and gave us similar instructions. Well not similar, EXACTLY the same instructions! This time I was like, "oh, no, not again". Again creating a similar ambiance when Papa was asked for the option he choses to, he simply and politely said, "we have made a similar contribution already. I can't pay that much again, but will like to donate a smaller amount at my own will" :P Nice. Simply meant, we have been fooled once, not again. Just want to pay the fees which I think this temple deserves. The priest asked where we did that and then completed the rites in a haste and accepted whatever Papa offered. Obviously he didn't have to fake a receipt and note our names and address in his book as was done earlier. As soon as we walked out, he called out for our guide and in words we couldn't hear, expressed his anger. After being scolded by the priest for bringing low value customers the guide asked us, "you have already been to Gokul?" and his expression added "why didn't you tell me." We were taken to another place and his enthusiasm showed a remarkable decline. Soon we had to part, and this time the guide did make a point to collect his fees :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-3427610690414739387?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/3427610690414739387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=3427610690414739387' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/3427610690414739387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/3427610690414739387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2007/05/robbed-in-gokul.html' title='Robbed in Gokul'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-7150356104565622522</id><published>2006-11-01T18:14:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-04T22:59:03.078+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='incident'/><title type='text'>Caught with pants down (the conspiracy)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;CAT is approaching, yes it is. I can feel it after every spent, rather 'wasted' day. And I do not want this attempt to be like the previous ones after which everyone said "Oh that one section let you down." Feels like&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;I was &lt;em&gt;almost&lt;/em&gt; there, but was I? Isnt this the word which we generally use to differentiate success from failures. Anyway, thats not the thing I was going to write about today. So without getting carried away, let me come to the real story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ya, to make sure I get myself enough time to prepare for the exam ahead I thought of taking a week leave which was pending in my account since I had worked in the shutdown week of June. But what reason am I supposed to quote? Preparing for CAT, are you kidding? Thats something I am supposed to hide from the people at office. What could be a safe reason. I didnt want to go for a jaundice or some disaster at home. Those sound too fake. What else? Some festival at home, yes Chhath. Its something Biharis observe religiously and exclusively. Everybody knows about it. And there isnt another Bihari in my dept (nor in the division) so no one can say that he is not going why are you? Anyway no one was against my going on a leave. It was just me trying to prepare myselft with answers to all kind of (unlikely) questions and queries which could come my way. Fortunately the planned duration also coincided with a particularly lean period in some recent vehicle trial activities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So after all the planning I decided to ask for the leave. And then it occurred to me... How about actually going home instead of staying here alone? I could spent 3 days over there and come back still having 4 days with me. Serves all the purposes. I checked for reservations. No doubt seats were full. Even tatkal bookings were in waiting list but they could get confirmed. I decided to get the leave approved before booking them. I could manage to go by air, but checking the available fare levels, I realized I wasnt that eager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Next day I got the leave approved, no problems there at all. In the evening the extended tatkal waiting list killed my hopes of going home. So the next evening I bid goodbye to my colleagues and left the office for a long time to come. My plan was on track.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(To be continued...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-7150356104565622522?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/7150356104565622522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=7150356104565622522' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/7150356104565622522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/7150356104565622522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2006/11/cought-with-pants-down-conspiracy.html' title='Caught with pants down (the conspiracy)'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-3656410598675483141</id><published>2006-10-28T21:28:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-04T22:58:29.593+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='incident'/><title type='text'>I am fine(d)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Hasnt it happened to you that while you are travelling in some mode of public transport and you see some people getting fined for not carrying an appropriate / any ticket and you / people start talking about how miserable such people are? Well it has happened to me. No, I didnt say such things about the person as the person was Me!&lt;br /&gt;I love a few things about Delhi, that includes the CNG fleet of DTC. As an environmentally conscious citizen I make it a point to use ecofriendly methods to meet my requirements. Using CNG buses gives me one such high. It was a pleasant evening, I just got relieved from an HR training program I was attending at Radisson, a 5 star btw, and proudly walked out to catch a bus to Gurgaon. I got one and seeing the number of boarders &gt; number of vacant seats inside, I hurried to grab one before I took the ticket. Thought I would keep my cap on my seat and go and get the ticket after the bus moves and the rush settles down. Bus moved and stopped soon at the next stop, not even minute away. It was still some crowd around my seat. Some 5-6 people entered the bus. One of them, a middle aged man had a reciept book in his hand. Spectacled. Safari suit. I felt uncomfortable. He tagged the conductor on his shoulders and exchanged words. Oh shit, I'm dead. I said to myself. Is this really happening to me. He is the, what do we call him, BTE?as in bus ticket examiner. What do i do now. Should i hold on to my seat and pretend to be comfortable, non-chalant? But wouldnt it be worse if he comes and ask me for a ticket and after looking for it in my wallet and all my pockets I say "nahi hai, uncle!". So after going through this thought process in 10milliseconds. I stood up, and placing my cap on the seat walked to the conductor for a ticket. But he refused to give me one! Nothing can save me now. Instead of staying away from the predator I just walked right into him. BTE noticed something going on and aske me &lt;em&gt;'tikit dikhaiye'. 'lena hai'&lt;/em&gt; I said. &lt;em&gt;'ab to nahi milega, wo aapke seat hai?'&lt;/em&gt; he asked, pointing at my cap(which btw, saurav singh, you must get it back from the cricket kit you left it in). It was followed by the regular &lt;em&gt;'bas lene wale hi the' 'to liya kyu nahi' 'pichhle stop pe hi chadhe the' 'padhe likhe lagte hain, fir bhi baat nahi samajhte?'&lt;/em&gt;. I took my seat, he came, I lost a medium size Gandhi chhap note.&lt;br /&gt;After putting my wallet back in pocket when i held my head high, for some unknown reason everyone was staring at me. Ok, the reason is known but I didnt instead of the &lt;em&gt;'chhi chhi'&lt;/em&gt; look, it was the &lt;em&gt;'oh bechara'&lt;/em&gt; look. Anyway I didnt shy away but stared each of them into the eye until they looked away. Some one from behind asked me '&lt;em&gt;1 aadmi ka saw(100) rupaya?'&lt;/em&gt;. I nodded in agreement, and I smiled. The reason was that 5 of them were sitting behind my seat, all w/o tickets. yessss! They were coming from the same stop as me. But the BTE wasnt interested. As if he had a ceiling for the number of people to fined in one expedition. 'Come on', I shouted inside myself, 'Fine them!' but he ignored &lt;em&gt;mere andar ki awaaz&lt;/em&gt;. I could have straight forward asked him to check everyone else's ticket but in that i ran a risk of getting lynched by the other offenders. Anyway he was not interested and got down at the next stop.&lt;br /&gt;I did all that was in my hands to save myself but the inevitable happened. Now it was my turn to justify myself, with strange logics. But I wasnt getting many. All I came up with were 'Its a lesson learnt, not only for me but also for others present there. Always buy the ticket in a DTC bus before occupying the seat' and 'after all its going to the government!'. But those could not pacify me. Then I recalled the exquisite lunch I had at Radisson + almond chocolate cakes(Kriti's mom style) + (i didnt count) glasses of juice etc. etc. Just Rs.100 for all this, its a steal! No regrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(note-I wish I hadnt refused the offer of being dropped at a location not very near to my home by one of the fellow trainees just before I took the bus)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-3656410598675483141?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/3656410598675483141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=3656410598675483141' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/3656410598675483141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/3656410598675483141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-am-fined-too-long-please-have_4775.html' title='I am fine(d)'/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34548809.post-115846887430197498</id><published>2006-09-17T10:23:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-11-01T13:10:08.588+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>yeah, i am in.&lt;br /&gt;mic testing one to four.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34548809-115846887430197498?l=sabkanandu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/feeds/115846887430197498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34548809&amp;postID=115846887430197498' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/115846887430197498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34548809/posts/default/115846887430197498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sabkanandu.blogspot.com/2006/09/yeah-i-am-in.html' title=''/><author><name>Rohit Anand</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04604246175400075749</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
