Heading to Coorg

Guys, I am heading to coorg for a holiday so i wont be updating the blog till monday the 15th. When I'm back I'll let you know how was the trip.
Ciao

New features!!!

Hi! added a couple of new features to my blog yesterday. A google searchbar to help you search if you want to and a link to install firefox. It is the most amazing browser. If you dont have it you should get it now. Just click on the link on the right hand side.

Something frm my mail

I recieved this joke a couple of days back in my mail.. Thought I'd share it with you:

Definitions:

TRADITIONAL ECONOMICS
You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies and the economy grows.
You retire on the income.

INFOSYS ECONOMICS
You have 2 cows
You put both of them on the bench
And hire another to do the job.

TCS ECONOMICS
You have 2 cows
You tell them that only one will go to onsite.
You ask both of them to fight for the only H1B Visa.
Both of them die after fighting.

HCL ECONOMICS
You have 2 cows
You milk them only for 24 hours on just 7 days a week.
They run away.

WIPRO ECONOMICS
You have 2 cows
You train them for two months on how to milk themselves.
Then you ask them to pull bullock carts.

INDIAN ECONOMICS
You have two cows.
You worship them.

PAKISTAN ECONOMICS
You don't have any cows.
You claim that the Indian cows belong to you.
You ask the US for financial aid,
China for military aid,
British for Warplanes,
Italy for machines,
Germany for technology,
French for submarines,
Switzerland for loans,
Russia for drugs and Japan for equipment.
You buy the cows with all this and claim of exploitation by the world.

AMERICAN ECONOMICS
You have two cows.
You sell one and force the other
to produce the milk of four cows.
You profess surprise when the cow drops dead.

FRENCH ECONOMICS
You have two cows.
You go on strike because you want three cows.

GERMAN ECONOMICS
You have two cows.
You reengineer them so that they live for 100 years,
eat once a month and milk themselves.

BRITISH ECONOMICS
You have two cows.
They are both mad cows.

ITALIAN ECONOMICS
You have two cows.
You don't know where they are.
You break for lunch.

SWISS ECONOMICS
You have 5000 cows, none of which belong to you.
You charge others for storing them.

JAPANESE ECONOMICS
You have two cows.
You redesign them so that they are one-tenth the size
of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk.
You then create cute cartoon cow images called
Cowkimon and market them worldwide.

RUSSIAN ECONOMICS
You have two cows.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
You count them again and learn you have 17 cows.
You give up counting and open another bottle of vodka.

CHINESE ECONOMICS
You have two cows.
You have 300 people milking them.
You claim full employment, high bovine productivity
and arrest anyone reporting the actual numbers.

Jon Caroll

Ladies and gentleman, fortunate enough to read this piece, it is by John Carroll a journalist who writes for the San Francisco chronicle. Read him. He really is the BEST.


This is so good. According to a memo written by a senior British foreign policy adviser and leaked vigorously to newspapers in both this country and England, President Bush was determined to go to war with Iraq long before he said he was, and he and Tony Blair discussed possible excuses for mounting the assault, because "we just want to, OK?" might not have worked so well.
Their eventual solution, you'll recall, was to send Colin Powell to lie at the United Nations. Remember when Colin Powell had credibility? It was back then. The Bush White House is sort of like a roach motel -- your reputation checks in, but it does not check out. Maybe that's why there's so little turnover. Why would Donald Rumsfeld want to leave the comfy environs of his Potemkin Pentagon?
Anyway, here are some of the ideas they came up with: (1) assassinate Saddam Hussein. The United States could then invade under the guise of restoring order, protecting American lives, all that. Good thing they didn't try that tactic, because when they finally did decide to assassinate Saddam Hussein, they couldn't find him. Not at that restaurant? Sorry, the intelligence was bad. Great kebabs, though.
Then there was (2), finding a defector who would say positively for sure that Hussein had boatloads of nukes and silos filed with sarin gas and many other WMDs. Certainly they had plenty of defectors who would be happy to say that -- or, indeed, anything -- but their motives might be suspect; they were, after all, defectors. Besides, why use a defector no one has ever heard of when you've got the secretary of state?
But my favorite was (3), painting a U-2 spy plane with U.N. colors and flying it over Iraq hoping Hussein would take a shot at it. Then we would rise in righteous indignation over this affront to the international community and plunge into battle with the bunker-buster bombs and the badly armored National Guard troops. It's not clear why this option was not approved -- perhaps a shortage of light blue paint.
Some of the other plans not mentioned in the memo but definitely part of U.S. planning, according to an agent high up in a tall building, probably one with a revolving restaurant on top:
Create a hastily scrawled note from Hussein to his top generals saying (in Arabic, of course): "Please find large planes so we can fly them into tall American buildings. Also, see if Russia will lend us some nuclear bombs. P.S.: Isn't there any good coffee in this joint?" Defectors would swear that the note was authentic and the handwriting was definitely Hussein's, noting that they had been to the palace and the coffee was indeed atrocious.
Persuade the nation of Jordan to covertly open its borders to Iraqi troops, tempting them across with ripe cantaloupes and Angelina Jolie movies. Once they had entered the country, the United States would declare that an invasion was under way and that we had no choice but to come to the aid of our friend Jordan. If our friend Jordan resisted, we could always invade it instead. Big upside: much smaller country. Big downside: hardly any oil.
Persuade American schoolchildren to dress up like refugees. Have them appear on the floor of Congress and start singing "God Bless America." Arrange for national television coverage. President Bush would dramatically enter the chamber, mount the podium, throw his arms wide and say, "the children, the children. How can we deny the children?" And everyone would agree that we could not deny the children, and before it was discovered that the children were not Iraqis and not refugees and not being denied anything except Xboxes, sorry, war already started, have to stay the course.
That does sound silly, but it's not that far off from what actually happened. We went to war in order to create peace in the Middle East, we killed Iraqis in order to save Iraqi lives, we set up a military autocracy in order to restore democracy. To be fair, a democracy-like government was eventually created, and the United States is now quarreling with it over the nature of current hostilities. They say the Shiites, we say the Sunnis, and there's no way of calling the whole thing off.
In wildly unrelated news: Two weeks ago, I made a slighting reference to the Stanford women's basketball team. I have no idea whether that sentence from the column was used as bulletin board material to fire up the troops, but if so, my pleasure. And, for the record, I was so very, very wrong about them. So wrong.
Or here's one: Burn our own embassy down. Sure, it's an old trick, but with the right spin and a few really tragic deaths, it could be golden.

Why do we fight with our friends?

Sometimes I wonder why? You call them friends because they care about you and you, them. Sometimes in anger you do very stupid things like I did a couple of days back with my room-mate/ elder brother/ good friend. I hurt him deeply and i know i did it purposely. You should always be careful about what you say, I've always been told that and taught that.

Yet I hurt him knowingly and i fear this time i might have lost him forever. I found a beautiful poem on friendship while trawling the net. I dont know who the author is so i cannot convey my deepest feelings of gratitude for him.

This is my tribute to my friend Anurag.

Friendship:

It is rare that you meet someone

who with that first smile becomes your friend.

Someone who knows nothing about you one day

and all your secret thoughts the next.

Someone who asks for nothing in return

for friendship but friendship itself.

Someone who makes it just as easy to

share sadness as it is to share joy.

I found that rare someone when I found you.

And like a precious memory

A friendship like ours is forever.

enter quietly Into my world...

Walk slowly through my life...

Leave an Imprint on my heart...

Weave your song through my memories...

Touch my dreams with your smile... Know me....
Be my friend...

Blue Ribbon

another short-story that i wrote for all you people...
My name is Megan Branson. Today is my birthday. I turned five today. Everyone calls me Meg. I wish people would stop treating me like a small child now. I am after all five years old.

Today is my birthday and I should feel special according to daddy. But I feel no such pleasure today. My dog Maggie died a week ago. I loved Maggie more than anything in the world and miss her immensely. There is a void in my life that I know will never be filled in my life.

I have known Maggie since I was born. She was my constant companion at home along with nanny. She was the best dog a person could ever hope for. When I was three, she saved me from dying by pulling me out of the water tub that my parents had bought for me. My nanny had been slightly careless and left me happily splashing in the water to go to the toilet. I put my head under the water to see how it looked and suddenly I could not breathe. Then Maggie pulled me out of the tub and saved my life. A couple of day later, I had a new nanny.

Mommy tells me that they brought Maggie home when they were trying to have a baby and could not. I came along when Maggie was three years old. They were told that they should get rid of Maggie because dogs cause infections in young children but my parents loved Maggie too much to let her go. So they kept her.

“Daddy, where do we go when we die?” I asked.
“If we are good, then we go to heaven.” Daddy said distracted while buttering his toast.
“Then Maggie must have gone to heaven daddy. She was the best dog ever.” I said with tears in my eyes.

Daddy put down his butter knife and looked at me. Then he picked me up from my chair and sat me down on his lap.
“So what do you want for your birthday?” Daddy asked me.
“Can I have Maggie back?” I asked timidly.
He sighed. Mommy was looking at me with concern. I felt like crying. I missed Maggie so much.
“Sweetie, Maggie was a good dog. We all loved her. But now she has gone to god. We can’t be selfish and hope that all good things are for us, can we?” Mommy said taking me in her arms.
“But all I wanted was Maggie. If god wanted something from me, he could have Ellie. I love him too, but I would have given him to god. I want Maggie back. Mommy, can you ask god if we can exchange them? As my birthday present?” I looked hopefully at mommy.
Ellie is my bear. He sleeps with me and protects me everyday.

She smiled and gave me a kiss. I hate it when she doesn’t answer my questions. “Pumpkin, God wanted Maggie and that’s why he took her away. She was a good dog and that’s why god has rewarded her by sending her to heaven.”
“Mommy, am I good?” I asked her innocently.
“Yes honey, you are the best daughter.” She said smiling.
“Then can I go to God? If he can’t give me Maggie back, can I go to Maggie?” I said.
“No sweetheart, he will call you when you’re ready to go.” Mommy replied patiently.
“Mommy?”
“Yes honey?” she said turning back to me exasperatedly.
“Can I visit Maggie today? It’s my birthday. Ask god, please?” I begged her.

“Sweetie, only people who die can go to heaven. You can’t visit. Now tell me quickly what you want for your birthday. Do you want a party?” Mommy said trying to cheer me up.
“No.” I said morosely, looking at the floor.
“Okay. How about a friend for Ellie?” she asked me.
“No.”
“Okay, do you want a surprise?” Mommy said brightly.
“No.” I said and sat on my chair.
Mommy sighed.
“At least, finish your cheerios. Then get out of those jammies and into that nice dress that daddy bought for you last month.”
“I don’t want to.” I said morosely.

“Stop being difficult child.” Mommy scolded me.
“Do you think Maggie would have liked it if you stood around moping here all day?”

But I wasn’t listening to mommy anymore. I was looking out the window at the garden where Maggie and I used to play everyday. The ball which I threw to Maggie everyday was still lying there. It reminded me of the amount of fun Maggie and I had. The water tub was also there where I gave Maggie baths. She used to love being bathed and then dried and then I combed her long golden hair. She would lick me to death after that. I had prayed to God to take good care of Maggie everyday.

I walked out of the kitchen and sat down on the stairs. Mommy and daddy thought I had gone back to my bedroom.
“She has been so sullen lately.” Daddy said to mommy.
“It’s Maggie. Give her time, she’ll forget and learn to move on.” Mommy said.
“Today is her birthday. I thought she would be happy. I miss the bouncy little Megan that used to come down everyday and ask me in that adorable voice, ‘What’s for breakfast daddy?’ Nowadays, she just looks so forlorn.” Daddy said.

“Give her time. Maggie was around since before she was born. She misses her terribly, that’s all.” Mommy said.

“What do we pick up for her birthday? She obviously doesn’t want a party.” Daddy said.

“I’ll ask her and call you at work.” Mommy said to daddy as I headed back to my room.

I picked up the photo of me and Maggie lying at my bedside and petted Maggie. I cried myself to sleep. I loved her so.

Mommy woke me up. “Sweetie what’s the matter? Come downstairs. Daddy brought a present for you. It’s in the kitchen.” She said and then whispered conspiratorially, “It’s a surprise.”
I love surprises. Even though, I missed Maggie I couldn’t resist a surprise.

I went down into the kitchen. There was a box with a blue ribbon lying on the table. I opened the box and a small, cute little puppy looked up at me with scared eyes and I fell in love with him. Mommy and daddy walked in carrying a strawberry cake and singing “Happy Birthday” for me. My eyes filled with tears and he looked at me with concern. I picked him up to kiss him and he licked the tears of my face

Barista

Here's a short story I wrote recently... for your exclusive reading pleasure...

Barista is a medium-sized open air café, which is enclosed on three sides by a plain white wall, five feet high. My first impression as soon as I entered the place was that it was so….ORANGE!

The theme colour is orange but it doesn’t cause temporary blindness when you look at it. It’s not THAT bright. It’s a muted shade. The colour is not dull but it has a pleasant weather-beaten quality to it. The large umbrellas giving shade to the table and chairs crowding under them are orange. So is the table. The chairs are plastic and metal affairs and they are an electric blue which goes very well with the orange. The tiled floor is very faded orange.

The place is almost empty as it is noon and too hot to sit in an outdoor café, yet the place has a certain vitality. It has a sunken path marked by raised flowerbeds on both sides running right through the middle of the space and leading to the shop which is air-conditioned. The flowerbeds have small pink flowers in bloom which look lovely.

As soon as I enter the small shop I am hit with a powerful aroma of fresh coffee. I breathe in deeply to savour the smell. I am looking at the display menu behind the single teller when two girls walk in. One of them catches my eye. She is lovely and very aware that she is beautiful. She has large brown animated eyes and long black hair. She’s wearing a grey spaghetti top which shows ample cleavage and even more of her well toned mid-riff, low-waist black jeans that show-off her pink thong. Her black pencil heels tic-toc very loudly as she walks towards me. Her eyes are everywhere. She is coolly surveying me up and down. She looks like a man-eater on the prowl.

I quickly order a cappuccino and a chicken-tikka sandwich. We are in India and they are working hard to Indianize their menu, I note dryly. It does not amuse me. If I had to eat Indian food, I would go to an Indian joint. If I want a good cup of cappuccino and a smoked salmon sandwich I’ll come to this place. Sadly, the smoked salmon is not available so I settle on the tikka sandwich.

I light up a cigarette as I wait for my coffee and start writing this. The man-eater is very interested. I can sense her looking at me. The girls place their order and come and sit right opposite me where I have a very good frontal view of the man-eater. The place is almost empty. Why couldn’t they go and sit somewhere else? I could do without the distraction. The man-eater is leaning forwards while talking conspiratorially to her friend. This causes her breasts to almost fall out of her top. I can’t seem to keep my eyes off her.

I sneak another peak at those beautiful breasts and this time she catches me fair and square, looking. It’s very embarrassing. I look away and try to appear uninterested but she is pulling my gaze like a moth to the flame. I risk another peek. She’s been waiting for me to do that and immediately catches me. There’s an amused look in her eyes. She very purposefully leans over further over the table talking to her friend to ‘enhance’ my view and I am absolutely shocked.

Just like that, the spell is broken. I am no longer interested in her or Barista. I go back to my writing in earnest and she starts talking loudly to her friend. Finally the bearer comes with my coffee and sandwich. I wolf down my sandwich. I want to get away from here quickly. I take a sip of the coffee. It’s very good and leaves a very rich, slightly bitter aftertaste in my mouth. I love it. I hurriedly finish my food and leave a tip for the waiter. I vow to never come back again.

Welcome!!!

This is the first time i attempt to write a blog to appease my creative side. Let's see how it goes. there are so many issues and things that i want to talk about. Maybe i will, maybe i won't... who knows? Will certainly make an effort to share my views and some other stuff. Well, let's see how it goes.
Ciao