<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137</id><updated>2009-10-31T10:06:54.285-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughtographs</title><subtitle type='html'>Thoughtographs are analogous to photographs. Thoughtographs capture thoughts- the invisible images of the mind like photographs which capture visible images.
This is my album of thoughtographs- memories,events,feelings,views,ideas I hope not to lose any.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>53</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-5639256121547705927</id><published>2007-12-12T18:19:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T10:20:26.671-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life of Pi continues..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Last good movie watched: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;No  End in Sight ... a documentary about post-war reconstruction in Iraq and what America's leaders really did. Gave an insight into the various organizations which were sent on a mission of post war reconstruction without any concrete plan. It was not shocking since I was not expecting anything better... but it left me wondering how can people who have been trusted with such huge responsibilities make such obvious wrong decisions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bourne Ultimatum..yeah I was waiting for the DVD. The home theater, recliner and blanket beats the movie hall anyday :) . The movie was of course, the best of the Bourne series. I think I want to see another sequel even though the next in series, The Bourne Legacy is not written by Ludlum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taare Zameen Par..the child is an amazing actor. Too many songs though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Current favorite song:&lt;/span&gt; "Aaja Nachle"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Current favorite TV show:  &lt;/span&gt;Writers' strike.. all re-runs...no time for TV either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Experience of the week: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Losing my purse which contained my wallet, glasses and camera on the night before New Year's eve in Vegas, followed by losing my iPhone ten minutes before midnight on New Years' eve in a casino :( :(  Two blows were hard to handle! Consoled myself with "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Currently reading: &lt;/span&gt;The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Book review:&lt;/span&gt; Desirable daughters - boring.. very vain.. very upper class Bengali vain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Best software used/website/blog visited recently:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Woot.. one day, one sale.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One recent good deed: &lt;/span&gt;Donation of clothes for Christmas.&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One pending to-do taken care of:  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Overcoming &lt;/span&gt;the dentist paranoia and getting the much needed fillings done. I was completely impressed with the facilities. Having a television overhead while the dentist worked on my mouth kept me distracted all the time. The shots felt like an ant bite. And to think that to avoid those I had procrastinated and caused further damage!! One thing I don't understand is why do dentists ask questions to the patient while working on his mouth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What I missed most about India this week: &lt;/span&gt;Getting clothes tailored easily. It is so difficult to find a tailor here to do minor repairs and alterations. Back at home the tailor would even provide home service!&lt;br /&gt;And so did the "dhobis" or laudry men. Every Sunday morning our neighbourhood dhobi would come home with a set of washed and ironed clothes, sheets and towels neatly bundled in a white sack created from a bed sheet. Mom had a small notebook to keep track of the clothes she had given the dhobi last week and the cost of the items. The lists were maintained chronologically with itemized entries with descriptions and prices listed on the right hand side... prices like two rupees for a shirt and four rupees for a bed sheet. I am sure she still maintains it. She would even bargain or send some clothes back if they were not well washed or had blue marks left over from the whitening solution. How I miss such privileges!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Discoveries of the week:  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The game &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mafia_%28game%29"&gt;Mafia&lt;/a&gt;...one of the best and most addictive party game I have ever played.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Learning from a Nigerian colleague that he loves watching Bollywood movies and has grown up watching movies like Mard and Disco Dancer!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Something I noticed this week: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;The difference in the usage of some words here. The word hostel is used differently here. In a conversation with a colleague I happened to mention I lived in a hostel in Bangalore. He was completely taken aback like it was not a suitable boarding option. I had to explain that hostels in India are not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="sense_break"&gt;&lt;span class="sense_break"&gt;&lt;span class="sense_content"&gt; low budget lodges for travelers!&lt;br /&gt;In India, the word holiday is used for any vacation day really... like Sunday is a holiday. Here holidays are specific vacation days like Christmas is a holiday or July 4th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Obsession of the week: &lt;/span&gt;Saying &lt;a href="http://4wheeldrive.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?zi=1/XJ/Ya&amp;amp;sdn=4wheeldrive&amp;amp;cdn=autos&amp;amp;tm=4&amp;amp;f=00&amp;amp;su=p284.8.150.ip_&amp;amp;tt=14&amp;amp;bt=0&amp;amp;bts=0&amp;amp;zu=http%3A//www.moviewavs.com/cgi-bin/tvwavs.cgi%3FSimpsons%3Dboring.wav"&gt;"Boring" the Homer Simpson way&lt;/a&gt; when A tries to explain things like directions or football rules and how to use his set of tools (drill bits and such) around the house or how to do an oil change for the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thoughts of the week: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Experimental hair cuts and salons can be a better experience than a known stylist..simply because the expectations are low.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do people who work at chocolate factories survive the over dosage of chocolate intoxication? A half an hour tour of Ethel's chocolate factory in Vegas left me choco-high for the rest of the trip :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scratch and dent sections are sometimes the best places to look for a deal. Found a wooden wine bar with storage cabinets for half the price since a minor screw was missing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holding a 7 day old new born  of a close friend is a beautiful experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will the "Tata Nano" really make the four-wheeler a middle class household norm? 2500 dollars is still a lot of money for them, I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Felt very strongly for Bhutto's death. An Oxford and Harvard educated woman who fought for women's rights in an Islamic nation and who risked her life to get the country back on track is the kind of person the world perhaps needs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Understanding American sports is essential in the corporate world here. If I start now, will I ever catch up? Cos its not just recent games they talk about, they talk about football in as much details as we would talk about Sachin's desert storm in Sharjah or Jadeja's innings against Pakistan in the 1996 world cup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gambling is not the main attraction in Vegas! (So I had thought till my visit there).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walking miles in high-heeled boots is not an art that many Indian girls like me have mastered. I even had to take vitamins to get rid of the footache and sleeping toes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know the beginning of the year sees a high increase in the number of health club/gym registrations owing to new year resolutions!&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to end this post with my sharable new year resolutions. I am still trying hard to remember what they are .....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-5639256121547705927?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/5639256121547705927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=5639256121547705927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/5639256121547705927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/5639256121547705927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2007/12/life-of-pi-continues.html' title='Life of Pi continues..'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-1626893554305189860</id><published>2007-12-04T11:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T17:43:35.250-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My life this week..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Current favorite song:&lt;/span&gt; "Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Last movie watched: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Enchanted - I don't understand how it could have a rating of 8+ in IMDB. 8.0 puts it in the league of movies like Grapes of Wrath, Gone with the wind and Snatch and its definitely not up there. The problem is that with the number of online users on the rise, the newer movies are receiving more votes and a more wide range of voters. So now on I am going to do a mental subtraction of 0.5 for any new movie rating on IMDB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Last bad movie watched:  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Dus Kahaniyan - almost every story was a rip off some internet forward, so silly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Current favorite dish: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Papdi Chaat from Cool Breeze. The reason why I like this so much is that it does not contain disk shaped, fixed number of papdis. Its made of small, rectangular, uncountable papdis providing multiple crunchy bites instead of the one-papdi-at-a-time bite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Current favorite drink: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Malibu with Pineapple Juice..s'weeeeeeeet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Current favorite TV show: &lt;/span&gt;Aliens in America .. its a comedy about a Pakistani guy who visits USA as an exchange student, lives with an American family and goes to high school with the family's children. I always enjoy watching American high school based movies/shows just to be able to compare my Indian high school life to theirs. And with the south Asian guy in the picture, both the perspectives are brought out well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Currently reading..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; Desirable Daughters by Bharati Mukherjee .. so far so good.. very Bong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Experience of the week:   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;I had this long list of calls to return that had been pending for some time. And like a fool I decided to do it on the eve of my birthday... and what else do you expect! Friend - "Oh, so are you calling to remind me that its your birthday tomorrow?"&lt;br /&gt;Me- "Uh oh!"&lt;br /&gt;The funniest part is that I actually did that once :) This was first year of Engineering. I was new to the school, new to the city, new people, new friends. So noone, of course, knew my birthday. And that time I was young and still wanted to celebrate birthdays. So a couple of days before my birthday, when some of my new friends/classmates were standing and chatting after a lab session, I started asking everyone's birth dates. Finally my turn came and again.... everyone exclaimed "Ohh!! Now we know why you ask!!" Things we do in teenage! sigh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Best software used/website/blog visited recently:&lt;/span&gt; www.elfyourself.com&lt;br /&gt;Check this out http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1162041402&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One good deed of the week: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Food charity for NC food drive. Emptied out all the stuff in our pantry that we hate eating but we thought we would eat to get on a healthy diet. Like granola bars and plain oat meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One pending to-do taken care of: &lt;/span&gt;Cleaning our garage!! Its not done yet, but we are getting there. And those who haven't seen our garage won't get why its a BIG deal!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What I missed most about India this week: &lt;/span&gt;The onset of winter... the quilts coming out of storage, lying on the terrace on a sunny afternoon in December eating oranges and reading one of the adventures of Feluda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Obsession of the week: &lt;/span&gt;Playing the stock market&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Discovery of the week: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;If the stock market was so easy to play everyone would be millionaires! But I like the excitement. A couple of days, I even checked my portfolio before checking email!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Something I noticed this week:  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Diversity and networking are very important terms in corporate America&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thoughts of the week:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Birthdays are ordinary days post 25.&lt;br /&gt;Birthdays are a good time to make excuses for not doing regular things.&lt;br /&gt;Birthdays are not anymore wear-your-favorite-dress to work days.&lt;br /&gt;Its important to do something special on your birthday since everyone asks what you did! Indirectly the pressure is always on the partner to make it memorable.&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;The oiling hair myth- So growing up in India every child learns from his/her mom that oiling your hair is as important as taking a bath. Without oil you could be struck with disasters like baldness, hot headedness and what not. My mom used to say "Maatha thanda raakhe" ("It keeps your head cool"). I could not imagine not oiling my hair with coconut oil poured from  Shalimar tins (and later Parachute fancy plastic blue bottles) before my daily shower except on Sundays. Because Sundays were shampoo days and wear-your-favorite-dress days. As we grew up and peer pressure of looking good came into the picture, applying oil became a weekend ritual that could take place only during the night so that it could be washed off in the morning. That way we took care of our hair as well as didn't look like a  "Chipku" (sticky)  (if you have watched Indian television, you will remember the  chipku ad where this school girl is called Chipku since she applies oil to her hair) .  When I went to hostel, the frequency of oiling hair reduced from once a week to once in two weeks due to hectic schedules and the overhead of transferring oil onto the pillows while you slept at night. Finding extra towels in hostel is not easy! Down the years the frequency declined further and now its reduced to zero! Yeah, I never oil my hair!! I can't believe it myself that I could not have lived without oil at some time. In this country people don't oil their hair. It has to be a spa treatment or something as exclusive as that to have an oil head massage. People here who have never oiled their hair have not balded or are not really hot-headed. The quality of their hair is as good as ours. I look at the blonde kids here and try to imagine how they would look with oiled hair tied in plaits :) Its funny! Wonder what will happen when I have kids... will I tell them to keep their heads cool with coconut oil. Wishful thinking.. maybe I ll just end up keeping my head cool with oil then!&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;I hate the smell of smoke that gets into your hair and bag and clothes when you go to a club or sit in the smoking area in a restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Nothing can be more depressing than 80 degree F two weeks before Christmas. Why the hell should I be in this country if I can't even experience snow in winter! :(&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Organizing events here reminds me of organizing college fests in undergrad. Except then, we derived the ultimate pleasure of bunking classes and still getting attendance. Now it eats into our evening and weekend time too!&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Cosmopolitan is not a bad magazine after all, if you skip the sex-related articles  (thats 40%) and the problems people face in their love lives sections (thats 30%) and the "where" to shop portions of whats trendy this season. Its actually a great magazine if you are single and rich and your life revolves around "Martini, Manolos and men" !&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Shopping online is like being at a mall all the time :)&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-1626893554305189860?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/1626893554305189860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=1626893554305189860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/1626893554305189860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/1626893554305189860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-life-this-week.html' title='My life this week..'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-8574865875532807849</id><published>2007-12-02T14:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-03T00:30:59.042-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Season changes, habit changes, this and that..</title><content type='html'>Its been forever since I wrote something other than code, emails and to-do lists. Everyday I have experiences that I feel are worth giving some thought to or noting down or sharing with.  But time has been moving at break-neck speed. So this is what I decided. Every week, I will fill up somewhat of a template wherein I can capture some of my thoughtographs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Current favorite song:&lt;/span&gt; "Wake up call" by Maroon5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Last good movie watched:&lt;/span&gt; American Gangster (I like true stories) and Maqbool (Irfaan Khan rocks)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Last bad movie watched:&lt;/span&gt; Dhamaal .... remember to have tylenol handy! I even rated it 1/10 on IMDB to bring its rating down from 6.8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Current favorite dish:&lt;/span&gt; Hersheys chocolate cream pie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Current favorite drink: &lt;/span&gt;Starbucks' cinnamon dolce latte&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Current favorite TV show:&lt;/span&gt; America's next top model cycle 9.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Currently reading..&lt;/span&gt; Life isn't all haa haa hee hee by Meera Syal .. Would love to see it in a movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Experience of the week:&lt;/span&gt; Spending two hours shopping for stuff worth 75 bucks since I wanted to use a 30 off 75 coupon.. then stood in a queue for 20 minutes to check out. When I reached the counter they said the coupon was not valid for items on clearance. So I went back and spent another 45 minutes and shopped again while A sat and played games and browsed on his phone. This time the queue was shorter but they said it was not valid on watches. Got fed up and did not buy anything!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Best software used/website visited recently:&lt;/span&gt; zoho.com. :Liked the ability to chat while editing a live document and seeing everyone's updates to the sheet simultaneously. Loved the simplicity of maintaining a database online and creating forms to submit data and receive notifications with the least effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One good deed of the week: &lt;/span&gt;Teaching how to play snakes and ladder to a 4 year old cancer patient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One pending to-do taken care of:&lt;/span&gt; Cleaning the study which had accumulated snail mail for months. I don't understand why they send so much snail mail in spite of having clicked on the Go Paperless button for every bill we pay. Shredding them is another big headache! Rescheduled the mailbox emptying to once a week instead of daily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What I missed most about India this week:  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;No snail mail! Bad postal service has its pros too!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Discovery of the week:&lt;/span&gt; Nerf gun :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thoughts of the week: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perennial confusion of what biweekly means. Someone insisted biweekly meant once in two weeks. In my understanding biweekly meant twice a week. This is what merriam webster says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;dl&gt;&lt;dd class="hwrd"&gt;&lt;span class="variant"&gt;&lt;sup&gt;1&lt;/sup&gt;bi·week·ly&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/dd&gt;&lt;dd class="pron"&gt;Pronunciation:&lt;span class="pronchars"&gt;\(&lt;span class="unicode"&gt;ˌ&lt;/span&gt;)bī-&lt;span class="unicode"&gt;ˈ&lt;/span&gt;wē-klē\&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;/dd&gt;&lt;dt class="func"&gt;          Function:&lt;em&gt;adjective&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;dt class="date"&gt;          Date:1832&lt;/dt&gt;&lt;/dl&gt;                &lt;span class="sense_break"&gt;     &lt;span class="sense_label start"&gt;1&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;span class="sense_content"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;:&lt;/strong&gt; occurring twice a week&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;span class="sense_break"&gt;     &lt;span class="sense_label start"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   2&lt;/span&gt;     &lt;span class="sense_content"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;:&lt;/strong&gt; occurring every two weeks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It means both? !!&lt;br /&gt;-------------&lt;br /&gt;I never was a fan of tea or coffee, as in I like drinking them once in a while but not regularly or I am not the kind who would have a headache if I didn't have my evening cuppa tea. But recently I have been enjoying the whole idea of having a conversation over a cup of tea or coffee. It gives us an excuse to sit at the breakfast table and talk about something, anything. Chai with hot pakodas watching the rain outside, or masala chai with parle-g biscuits while chatting with girl friends, walking in winter in warm coats and gloves sipping a hot cappucinno, or a mug of strong coffee while checking mail early morning.... these have given me good enough reason to get addicted!&lt;br /&gt;----------------&lt;br /&gt;Change of seasons is so different here than in India. In fall, leaves really fall. In winter there is snow. In spring the leaves reappear. In summer you get tanned.&lt;br /&gt;In India, in fall leaves don't fall, you could fall because of the rain wet roads. In winter you can get tanned. Spring ... what spring? Summer.. the only season!&lt;br /&gt;---------------&lt;br /&gt;Did not buy anymore free after rebate software this year .. the ones from the past years have moved from the study to the garage! And to think that we spend time on filling out rebate forms and mailing them out on time, tch tch!&lt;br /&gt;----------------&lt;br /&gt;How can anyone start their blog with "Dear Diary"? Isn't the meaning of a diary lost right then?&lt;br /&gt;-------------------&lt;br /&gt;Why do people ask questions like "How is married life treating you?" What do they really expect to hear? Its great except I didn't know men fart/women snore too. Its awful except I get to shop with someone else's credit card. Our choices don't match and I don't like his family and we already fight but we are a perfect match. I like the part of not having to return home in the morning anymore. Its as romantic as our first date.  I don't know, its just a weird question, I feel.&lt;br /&gt;-------------------&lt;br /&gt;Why didn't my parents enforce waking up early when I was a child? Mom should have really poured water over me instead of just threatening to do so. I always used to keep snoozing the alarm clock till a point when, if I didn't get out, I would miss the school bus. Old habits die hard! Its all their fault for not teaching me to be an early riser. Like they say, to err is human, to blame it on someone else is divine :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-8574865875532807849?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/8574865875532807849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=8574865875532807849' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/8574865875532807849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/8574865875532807849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2007/12/cuppa-tea-season-changes-shopping-etc.html' title='Season changes, habit changes, this and that..'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-8758811025511228074</id><published>2007-06-29T16:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-29T17:14:20.129-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Before and after....</title><content type='html'>(F stands for female, M stands for male)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before marriage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F:"Will you come for a movie with me?"&lt;br /&gt;M:"Which one?"&lt;br /&gt;F:"&lt;some&gt;(some bollywood flick)"&lt;br /&gt;M:"You really want to go?"&lt;br /&gt;F:"Yes" - battering eyelids , "If I was in India I wouldn't ask you. But the theatre is far and you don't want me to drive alone at night, right?"&lt;br /&gt;M:"Yeah of course, sweetheart. Ok. I will come"&lt;br /&gt;F:":)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After marriage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F:"Will you come for a movie with me?"&lt;br /&gt;M:"Which one?"&lt;br /&gt;"(some bollywood flick)&lt;some&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;"What? Are you insane? I can't sit through those, you know that!"&lt;br /&gt;"But it has good reviews!"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, like even Don had good reviews and you made me watch it!!"&lt;br /&gt;"OK.Fine! Don't come."&lt;br /&gt;"I'll go by myself"&lt;br /&gt;"Ok... baba... I'll come"&lt;br /&gt;":)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the movie theater, while purchasing tickets...&lt;br /&gt;M:":(  X-("&lt;br /&gt;F: ":)"&lt;br /&gt;M:":("&lt;br /&gt;F:":| uffff"&lt;br /&gt;M:"Can I get tickets for 'Last King of Scotland'?"&lt;br /&gt;F: "What? No we are going for (s0me bollywood flick)&lt;bollywood&gt;! X("&lt;br /&gt;M: "No you can still go.. I will go for that. Its a fair deal. I came to the theater with you. You can watch what you want , I can watch what I want. Both are happy and you don't have to drive back alone"&lt;br /&gt;F: "What???!!!! O.K.!! Do what you want"&lt;br /&gt;So she heads off to Bollywood flick with a friend and he watches Last King of Scotland!&lt;br /&gt;Both are happy in the end!&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Before Marriage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F: "I hate paperwork and all financial issues"&lt;br /&gt;M:"Don't worry, sweetheart. I ll take care of all those."&lt;br /&gt;F: "I also hate planning trips"&lt;br /&gt;M: "You will never have to while you have me"&lt;br /&gt;F: ":)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Marriage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M: "The bank has been calling for some issue. Can you look into it?"&lt;br /&gt;F: "Hmm. Which bank?... Okay... :( I ll see"&lt;br /&gt;M: "Also can we start splitting the responsibility of making the monthly payments?"&lt;br /&gt;F: "Why can't we put them for automatic payments every month. That way neither have to do it"&lt;br /&gt;M: "Also... can you get together all your documents for the immigration stuff. Scan them and put them in a file"&lt;br /&gt;F: "Uffff. No I can't do it! Next you'll ask me to do taxes!!"&lt;br /&gt;M: "Plan the trip for the July 4th weekend"&lt;br /&gt;F: "Why did I marry you if I had to do all this!!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before Marriage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F: "How did you like the food?"&lt;br /&gt;M: "Its awesome sweetheart. You definitely know the way to my heart"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Marriage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F: "Hows the food?"&lt;br /&gt;M: "Its nice, just needs a little more spice and some more salt. Something is missing... I can't figure out what. But overall its nice!"&lt;br /&gt;F: "X("&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Before Marriage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F: "I love the rain, you know. I love getting drenched and splashing mud!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Marriage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F: "Oh God! Why couldn't you wear shorts today. I have to clean those mud stains now!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Before Marriage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F: "Wow you are so organized? Do you always keep your clothes and shoes so neatly?"&lt;br /&gt;M: ":)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Marriage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F: "Why do you leave your clothes here and there? Why do I find your socks everywhere? Why can't you just put them in the laundry basket or the washing machine"&lt;br /&gt;M: "Woh toh biwi ka kaam hai!"&lt;br /&gt;F: ":("&lt;br /&gt;------------------------------&lt;/bollywood&gt;&lt;/some&gt;&lt;/some&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-8758811025511228074?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/8758811025511228074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=8758811025511228074' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/8758811025511228074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/8758811025511228074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2007/06/before-and-after.html' title='Before and after....'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-5297751726719852637</id><published>2007-04-14T19:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T13:06:33.411-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hibernation of transition</title><content type='html'>Well, well, well...its been a really long hiatus...Didn't you know I hibernate for six months annually!! Yeah, really!&lt;br /&gt;Anyway now that I am awake and alert and back to the grind here comes some thoughtographs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hibernation was eventful.... there were dreams and a few nightmares that left a permanent impression on my life. And the best or worst part is that when I woke up I realized that all of them had come true! Here are some of those ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I treaded into a terroitory I had never been in before. The inevitable happened. There were fireworks and food, and friends and foes. The customs and rituals drove me nuts for sometime. There were adjustments and trying to make everyone happy. There were doors that opened up and ones that shut behind me. Space was taken up and  some corners were made free. The word sharing had a new meaning, or rather the same meaning with a greater degree, a greater scope. Life was secured and insured and made more comfortable. New relations appeared, the ones that you had never been in before. Old relations became better; we were family now. Surprises were plenty except now I had more right to enquire about the reason or planning behind them. There was unity in diversity. Love became completely selfless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally found my own home. One in which I can start building memories. The one where the kitchen is mine, the walls have photographs of things that are important to me, where only I know where bandaids, sewing kits and extra blankets can be found, where the restrooms have the fragrance of pot-pourrie I like, where the curtains are my color and where I love to return every day after work. Oh yeah and the one which I have to clean!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote the last exams of my life (or at least so I think for now). A thesis was defended. A degree was obtained. The one in which I learnt the most in my life. Old books and notes moved from shelves to the storage. A photograph in a black gown is to appear soon on the mantelpiece. A phase ended. I miss the night outs with coffee, the library and the cooking turns!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A new one begun a couple of months back. A new job, new responsibilites, new team. Excitement. This time its not for the bread and butter anymore. This time I don't wake up thinking "Do I have to do this for the rest of my life?". This time I am loving it and I know I belong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The extra-curriculars which were on the back burner for sometime regained their priority in my life. Dance classes, painting, reading, volunteering, networking, activities. Life is back on track. Just need more than 24 hours a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My world has changed. Transitions were many. Adaptations too. And now again.... life continues... rotating around its axis of equilibrium, revolving around stars that are important for its survival, breathing, smiling, live and kicking!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-5297751726719852637?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/5297751726719852637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=5297751726719852637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/5297751726719852637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/5297751726719852637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2007/04/hibernation-of-transition.html' title='Hibernation of transition'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-116068369296154308</id><published>2006-10-12T15:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-12T15:50:39.630-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Imperfect Relationship</title><content type='html'>Here is another attempt at fiction.&lt;br /&gt;Its called &lt;a href="http://yarnsofimagination.blogspot.com/2006/07/imperfect-relationship.html"&gt;The Imperfect Relationship. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please leave your comments, good or bad :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-116068369296154308?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/116068369296154308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=116068369296154308' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/116068369296154308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/116068369296154308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/10/imperfect-relationship.html' title='The Imperfect Relationship'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-116068084544970382</id><published>2006-10-12T12:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T12:02:40.663-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fall of Festival</title><content type='html'>I did not ever think that I could live without Durga pujo (I insist on calling it pujo).&lt;br /&gt;We, Bengalis, live from pujo to pujo i.e from one festive season to another.  Come fall and the entire city of Calcutta metamorphoses into a 24 hours party zone! Yeah, I am not kidding. Its not like other festivals in India.... most of which are restricted to pujas at home. We celebrate with the entire community, we celebrate together. I have heard ganapati puja in Mumbai comes close to it. But you can't beat Durga Pujo! The festival goes on for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;five&lt;/span&gt; long days. Five days of vacations for anyone and everyone, whether you work for a mutinational or you go to school or you work as a domestic help.&lt;br /&gt;So right before the pujas the city undergoes a transformation phase.&lt;br /&gt;The constuction of pandals in every neighbourhood..&lt;br /&gt;Rehearsles for cultural programs to be performed by the kids living together in a multi-storied building....&lt;br /&gt;Young boys knocking at your door to collect funds for the neighbourhood association...&lt;br /&gt;Huge sales in every mall, people spending their savings to buy new clothes; and by new clothes I don't mean one set. Everyone gets five sets for the five days! You buy for yourself and your family members, for cousins and aunts and grandmoms and even the maid and her daughter at home.&lt;br /&gt;The festivities begin on the sixth day or shoshthi.&lt;br /&gt;The entire city is lit up. Lights of all shapes and sizes...in fact the layout of the lights form patterns that tell stories of events that happened that year.....&lt;br /&gt;Every pandal is different, every idol is unique.....&lt;br /&gt;Everyone is in the best of their attire,looking good, feeling good, with friends and family, chatting, laughing while standing in long queues to catch a glimpse of the idol and the decor of the pandal. You make new friends through friends of friends and before you know you would have made new relations too.&lt;br /&gt;If you step out of the house in the middle of the night, you will not be the only one. The entire city is out all night. No one sleeps.&lt;br /&gt;Now you know why I called it a 24/7 party!&lt;br /&gt;Then there is the beauty of the puja itself.&lt;br /&gt;The sounds of dhak early morning, the loudspeakers playing songs all day...&lt;br /&gt;The voice of the purohit uttering "sarva mangala mangaley..." and an entire crowd repeating after him, with flowers in their hand which they are about to offer to the goddess, a crowd that includes even small children who find it hard to follow the pace ...&lt;br /&gt;The shondhi pujo with 108 lamps at dawn....&lt;br /&gt;The taste of the bhog served on banana leaves, served by uncles in the neighbourhood...&lt;br /&gt;The married women smearing each other with vermilion during sindoor khela...&lt;br /&gt;The beauty of the idols reflecting the light of the arati, Ma Durga in her valiant pose accompanied by her four children, on  a break from shivji, enjoying all the attention at her mother's abode.....&lt;br /&gt;The dhunuchi naach  - a dance performed by males, to the rhythm of the dhak, while balancing chalices full of smoking embers from coconut husks....&lt;br /&gt;The shantir jol - the sacred holy water of the ganges sprayed on the crowd who tuck away their toes to prevent the water from touching their feet....&lt;br /&gt;And the bishorjon on the final day - immersion of the idol , seeing the goddess off at the ganges, screaming "aashche bochor aabar hobe (see you next year)"........&lt;br /&gt;I remember as a child I used to cry during the immersion, feeling bad that the festivities were over and everyone would be returning home and that there were no more excuses to postpone studying for the half-yearly exams that were to follow soon after the month long puja vacations.&lt;br /&gt;At that time I never thought I could live without Durga Pujo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have. For many years now. Many falls have passed by without the sounds of the dhak or the lights that tell stories.&lt;br /&gt;This year again. I knew durga puja was around, but not the exact dates. Ma called to inform me that it was shoshthi and that she had fasted for us. I was sitting in my lab glaring at some research papers, imagining the humdrum in Kolkata. I had to save myself from getting depressed. Googled and discovered that there was a puja held right next to my house. Man I was excited or what!&lt;br /&gt;So on Ashtami morning I arrived like a good girl, draped in a new tangail saree, fasting and craving for the bhog, offered pushpanjoli, prayed for the well-being of everyone unlike the "please make sure I do well in my exams" that I used to mutter as a child,  and taught A who had never seen a durga puja in his life, the entire story behind it.&lt;br /&gt;There were generations of Bengalis there, away from home, who probably share my feelings. There were the American born children who did not understand what the mantras meant and just followed what their mothers asked them to do....&lt;br /&gt;There were middleaged women dressed in their best clothes and jewellery, not letting the rare opportunity to get dressed and show off what they owned, slip by...&lt;br /&gt;There were uncles who made the crowd laugh with their funny jokes....&lt;br /&gt;There were American wives of well-settled Bengali brahmin boys, trying to manage their sarees, looking slightly puzzled at what was going on....&lt;br /&gt;There were the students of nearby universities who were away from home for the first time, who had dragged their non-bengali friends along, tempting them with the free delicious food that was going to be served....&lt;br /&gt;And there was me, observing, reminiscing, smiling and relieved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-116068084544970382?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/116068084544970382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=116068084544970382' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/116068084544970382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/116068084544970382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/10/fall-of-festival.html' title='The Fall of Festival'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115937918819121636</id><published>2006-09-27T00:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T10:19:08.993-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some book reviews</title><content type='html'>Recently I have been reviewing a lot of technical literature for the purpose of my research. So to go with the flow I thought I might as well write some reviews of non-research related stuff I read recently.&lt;br /&gt;Four books: One night @ the call center, Five point someone, The Hungry Tide and The Monk who sold his Ferrari. The first two were great. Fresh, funny, simple -stories you can relate to. I feel I have met the characters at some point of my life. The kind of output I would expect from an IIT/IIM grad of this generation. We need more authors like him, who can write about incidents and characters we encounter everday. Well done Chetan, looking forward to your next book.&lt;br /&gt;The Hungry Tide by Amitava Ghosh was on the other hand quite heavy...rich with social and historical details, with myriad emotions and well sketched characters. It was tale well told, a book I could recommend. This was my first of Ghosh's. Heard The Glass Palace was good too. Thats next on my list.&lt;br /&gt;The Monk who sold his Ferrari was not my type at all. Not that I dont like philosophical and spiritual inspiration...I liked The Alchemist and have read enough of Richard Bach. But this did not cut it. I felt I was reading stuff I already knew.&lt;br /&gt;Other than that I read all the old archies, tinkle and tintin that were lying at home in my old book cabinets. I have the habit of writing my name and the year in which I read the book on the first page right hand side corner. It was fun noticing the evolution of my handwriting!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115937918819121636?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115937918819121636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115937918819121636' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115937918819121636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115937918819121636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/09/some-book-reviews.html' title='Some book reviews'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115924299495650350</id><published>2006-09-25T21:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T22:56:35.026-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Greener pastures</title><content type='html'>Yes its been a long time... travelling, post-India trip homesickness, back-to-school-catching-up, figuring out the thesis and how to use Latex ( I hate it!) have left me with no time for things I like doing. Today was the I-had-enough-of-it day! So here comes some random thoughts ....&lt;br /&gt;Calcutta was good, home was good too but some things have changed, don't know whether its me or everything else but there definitely were streaks of unfamiliarity...yes to the point that at one time I was craving to get back. Why is the grass always greener on the other side? Like for example months of subs and tacos had left me wanting home made rice and dal and then a month long of rice and dal aroused the craving for a baja chalupa with lots of fire (for those who have not tried it you are missing something). Or the traffic and those ambassador taxis and autorickshaws which I was longing to see did not retain its charm for long. Is it only me or does it happen with everyone, I wonder. Yes my friends did tease me because I mentioned the traffic was unruly and I know had I been in their place I would have done the same.... it just felt weird to be on the other side. Its like I belong there but some part of me pulls me here. God knows!&lt;br /&gt;Anyway..... more to do with greener pastures ....&lt;br /&gt;when I was interning I wanted to get back to school, now that I am in school I want to get back to work! I mean what the hell! Will this ever end? Does it happen with everyone, or is it just me?&lt;br /&gt;My mind is kind of blank right now... have to write a paper, I don't understand why they make computer scientists write papers man!  I think a demo with a readme should be enough... and as for the theory I am not made for it.  I have been postponing it by doing all other things that I would not do.. cooking hakka noodles with tofu whichI knew would take forever, cleaning random things which need no attention at the moment, taking the trash out- something which I could wait till the neighbours start complaining :P,  arranging clothes in the closet - my most detested chore, taking a long shower, browsing through social networks and forcing friends who are online to converse, replying to ancient mails which had to be followed up, making my desktop spic and span ..... and now that I finally opened the tex editor and jotted down a couple of lines of the abstract I feel like I am done for today. Maybe I will outsource this writing business ......&lt;br /&gt;At this moment in my search of greener pastures I found the right spot! A game of Spiderman on the PS2 right now!  (maybe the guilty conscience after the game will work)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115924299495650350?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115924299495650350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115924299495650350' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115924299495650350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115924299495650350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/09/greener-pastures.html' title='Greener pastures'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115458648285551533</id><published>2006-08-02T23:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T01:53:36.003-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Homeward bound</title><content type='html'>The countdown has started...actually it started long back. Nine more days for me to be in Kolkata. After 1 year 8 months, the longest I have been away.&lt;br /&gt;Domdom airport(yeah I know its Dumdum but don't you know Bengalis pronounce "u" as "o"- sounds like "aw"..&lt;br /&gt;The announcements of arrival of my flight in Bengali or Bengali accented English.&lt;br /&gt;The known anticipating faces of family waiting in the crowd right behind the baggage claim section.&lt;br /&gt;Ma will see me and exclaim "O ma ki moila hoye gechish, naa khete peye meyeta ki roga hoyeche dekho (Oh my, you have lost your complexion, you don't get to eat well ..look how thin you have become!) ..and I know she will say it even if I have put on weight...thats just how moms are. They think that if you don't eat at home you don't get to eat :)&lt;br /&gt;The musty  humid air on stepping out of the airport.&lt;br /&gt;The yellow and black ambassador taxis.&lt;br /&gt;The roads , the hawkers, the shops with Bengali sign boards.&lt;br /&gt;The mini buses which have never heard of speed limits - "Esplanade - Dum Dum Airport" written across their yellow and brown bodies, people hanging from the footboard.&lt;br /&gt;Women in&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; tanter  &lt;/span&gt;sari holding the school bag and water bottle on one shoulder and the hand of their child on the other side, on the way to school (yeah I never support that- Bengali moms pamper their kids too much).&lt;br /&gt;Rickshaw pullers trudging along to earn their daily meal.&lt;br /&gt;Traffic jam.&lt;br /&gt;The reeking areas on VIP road... I remember always complaining about having to roll up the glasses of the car in hot and sweaty summers while travelling across that area just to keep that smell out.&lt;br /&gt;The football stadium.&lt;br /&gt;The new flyoevers.&lt;br /&gt;The known roads.&lt;br /&gt;Gariahat &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mor&lt;/span&gt; (crossing) which used to be the most common junction for taking any mode of transport from anywhere to my house near Triangular park.&lt;br /&gt;The tram lines.&lt;br /&gt;The excitement of approaching our house.&lt;br /&gt;Familiar smiles of neighbours, some hanging clothes in the balcony, some walking in front of our gate, the kids who seem to have grown up so much.&lt;br /&gt;The grocery store where the entire neighbourhood shops from - chal, dal, brittania biscuits, rin bars etc.&lt;br /&gt;The&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; panwala&lt;/span&gt;(beetle-leaf maker).&lt;br /&gt;The big Gulmohar tree.&lt;br /&gt;The staircases leading upstairs.&lt;br /&gt;The living room and my room.&lt;br /&gt;My sister :)&lt;br /&gt;Our code language.&lt;br /&gt;Our photos.&lt;br /&gt;Love, warmth, affection.&lt;br /&gt;Visits of excited relatives.&lt;br /&gt;Seeing their smiles when I give them the gifts that I bought for them. "Ki dorkar chhilo eto kichu aanar?" ("What was the need of bringing so many things), smiling, blessing me.&lt;br /&gt;A home cooked meal.&lt;br /&gt;Long adda with my parents and sister.&lt;br /&gt;Showing them photographs, describing my experiences, updates on what has been happening around.&lt;br /&gt;Sleeping with the ac on, wrapped inside my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tulor lep (cotton quilt).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The colors of my room, the window, the balcony, the bathroom..... home :)&lt;br /&gt;Weeks of freedom.... sleeping late, waking up to familiar voice of my mom and dad "Ki re shona, aar kotokhon ghumobi? Oth, bela hoye geche" (How long will you sleep, dear. Wake up. Its almost noon).&lt;br /&gt;Waking up with breakfast served, milk-shake made, followed by fruits I love eating, chopped exactly the way I like them by Kobita or the new maid.&lt;br /&gt;The familiar door bell.&lt;br /&gt;Cousins, friends, aunts, uncles - repeating the stories to everyone, explaining photographs, locations, people they have never seen or met.&lt;br /&gt;Invitations to their place for dinners and lunches ... all made especially for me :)&lt;br /&gt;Unlimited good food -  fish fry, biryani, pulao, luchi, aloor dom, beguni, payesh, mishti.&lt;br /&gt;Park street - chelo kababs at Peter Cat followed by ice cream sundaes at Tulikas and a short stop at Someplace Else to listen to some good ol' music, not the rap and hip-hop!! (yeah I know there are a thousand new places but I only know of my old favorites).&lt;br /&gt;Sunday family lunches at Tolly club.&lt;br /&gt;All night TV at home, Indian MTV, star movies, some bengali channels.&lt;br /&gt;Shopping at New Market and Vardaan...and don't you just love the chats and kulfi outside vardaan!&lt;br /&gt;Talking about chats.... V.V. Park (stands for Vivekananda park- my uncle always teased me that this was the heights of shortening names, we did not even spare poor old Bibekanondo!) right behind my house- phuchka, alur dom and batata puri followed by Masala Thumps Up (yeah its way fizzier than the bland diet coke and pepsi I drink everyday).&lt;br /&gt;Morning walks in the lakes.&lt;br /&gt;Maharani's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cha&lt;/span&gt; (tea) and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;jilipi&lt;/span&gt;(jalebi)&lt;br /&gt;Drives on Vidyasagar setu.&lt;br /&gt;Visists to the ancient houses of relatives in North Calcutta - flying kites with cousins on their terraces. Since the houses are so close to each other you can almost skip, hop and jump across from one terrace to another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pujor&lt;/span&gt; sale (huge sale before Durga Pujas).&lt;br /&gt;A movie at Priya cinema in the balcony (the other day when I mentioned Priya to my sister, she was like "Deeds, you live in prehistoric age! We ll go to Forum , Inox. Noone goes to Priya and Menoka".&lt;br /&gt;Picking up Ma from High Court.. the Maidan and Victoria Memorial on the way and of course the confusing one ways in that area which change every morning and evening.&lt;br /&gt;The familiar houses of my childhood friends.. friends who know me better than I know myself, whose family is family to me.&lt;br /&gt;A night-spend at one of their places, cribbing, talking, reminiscing, laughing, discussing!&lt;br /&gt;Threading eyebrows at the known beauty parlours, chatting with the aunty who knows me since my adoloscence when I first ever tried doing my eyebrows!&lt;br /&gt;Shared overloaded  autorickshaws on Rashbehari.&lt;br /&gt;The small temple near home where I have prayed before every one of my exams ever since I learnt that you should pray before exams if you want to do well.&lt;br /&gt;A meal at Azad hind dhaba after a late night party.&lt;br /&gt;The worlds best Kaati rolls.&lt;br /&gt;Kwality ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;Coffee and a book at Oxford bookstore on Park Street.&lt;br /&gt;Petrol bunks where you don't have to get out of the car to fill gas :)&lt;br /&gt;Indian currency in the purse.&lt;br /&gt;Cheap shoes, cotton tops and salwar kameez&lt;br /&gt;A trip to Belur Math.&lt;br /&gt;The circular crossing at Golpark.&lt;br /&gt;The lush greenery of Southern Avenue.&lt;br /&gt;The regular check up with our family doctor - his chamber in Lake Gardens always crowded, smelling of medicine, his small room with a table fan and the hand scribbled prescriptions.&lt;br /&gt;Eden garden and the Sourabh fanaticism.&lt;br /&gt;My school, the logo, the blue gates, the buses, the bell ringing to mark the end of a period... every time I pass by 78,Syed Amir Ali Avenue, nostalgia engulfs me. Heard it has changed a lot in recent times :(&lt;br /&gt;Old sirs still offering tuition to science students preparing for Joint Entrance, maybe teaching the same stuff from the same notes that I had learnt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Naacher class&lt;/span&gt; - my Dance school where I spent two hours of all my Sunday evenings for 12 long years, learning Odissi, growing up to teach the juniors, guruji's voice, the sounds of ghungroos, mothers waiting outside the class gossiping, the sound of the tabla playing the taals, the songs, the items from Mangalacharan to Moksha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Aankar class&lt;/span&gt; - my painting school, where I learnt how to draw figures and still lives and landscapes, where I learnt to use water colors on handmade paper, the artistic bearded intellectual teachers, we even had final exams and ranks in class to be promoted to the next year.&lt;br /&gt;Shopping for fruits with Ma at Lake Market.&lt;br /&gt;The stationery store from where I bought all the brown papers and labels to cover my books at the beginning of every academic year, where I bought camlin pencils and rubbers (yeah I still call them rubber - the white ones with alphabets written on them with green borders on the top), and then fountain pens and blue ink and finally dot pens and microtipped ones, and yeah the maps for Geography classes - the physical and political ones.&lt;br /&gt;Metropolitan - the book store where we queued up every year to buy our text books as mentioned in the typed book list distributed by school.&lt;br /&gt;Dress House on Hazra road - they tailored our school uniforms every year.&lt;br /&gt;Alipore and New Alipore.&lt;br /&gt;Park circus.&lt;br /&gt;The hustle, the bustle.&lt;br /&gt;The heat and the warmth.&lt;br /&gt;The hospitality.&lt;br /&gt;The people.&lt;br /&gt;The souls.&lt;br /&gt;Rabindrasangeet and geetobeetan, Ma reciting lines from Tagore's poems in context of something she wanted to explain to me.&lt;br /&gt;The sound of conch shell in the evenings.&lt;br /&gt;The superstitions.&lt;br /&gt;The discussions on politics and cricket and books.&lt;br /&gt;The recollections of the past, of my deeds as a child, of incidents before I was born.&lt;br /&gt;The dreams of the future,of grandkids that my parents want to play with, and how mom will teach them to say "Its my life!" like I used to say to her as a teenager.&lt;br /&gt;The spirit.&lt;br /&gt;The city.&lt;br /&gt;The life.&lt;br /&gt;Everything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am coming home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115458648285551533?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115458648285551533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115458648285551533' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115458648285551533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115458648285551533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/08/homeward-bound.html' title='Homeward bound'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115381219532705575</id><published>2006-07-25T01:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T12:07:13.730-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A breath of fresh air...</title><content type='html'>The tunes of a flute at a distance&lt;br /&gt;The colorful falling leaves of Autumn in North Carolina&lt;br /&gt;The spread out plumage of a peacock on a cloudy day during a Rajasthan trip&lt;br /&gt;Home made chocolates in a steel tiffin box&lt;br /&gt;Old greeting cards accumulated for years stored in cabinets covered with cobwebs&lt;br /&gt;Moonlight on a narrow stretch of road&lt;br /&gt;A real white pearl in an oyster fresh from the ocean&lt;br /&gt;Color pencils and plain paper scattered on a table with a yellow mug of hot chocolate&lt;br /&gt;Grandmom's hand on the forehead during high fever&lt;br /&gt;A chubby little baby girl sleeping in the pram, her blonde hair tied in a pink ribbon&lt;br /&gt;A book fair of used books.. books with rusty pages and personal messages&lt;br /&gt;Drive through a forest with the sound of running water at a distance&lt;br /&gt;Walking on dew laden grass at dawn&lt;br /&gt;A sparrow family's daily activities at their nest on a branch right next to my window by my study table&lt;br /&gt;An old teacher who taught me, recognizing and smiling&lt;br /&gt;The tough problem solved after a struggle during a night out before board exams&lt;br /&gt;The smell of wet earth&lt;br /&gt;A room full of antiques in the attic&lt;br /&gt;The open window of a candle lit mud hut where there is no electricity and darkness all around&lt;br /&gt;A folk dance by women in the interiors of a north-east Indian state&lt;br /&gt;A field of wild flowers under the open sky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--- I have been in this extreme negative mood for the past few days. Don't know why...... whatever I was thinking of was dark and claustrophobic. Needed a breath of fresh air. Since it is 90 degrees outside, even that is unobtainable. So decided to recapture random images from the past that have left a permanent impression.&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;For oft, when on my couch I lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;In vacant or in pensive mood,&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;They flash upon that inward eye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is the bliss of solitude;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.........&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- William Wordsworth&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115381219532705575?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115381219532705575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115381219532705575' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115381219532705575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115381219532705575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/07/breath-of-fresh-air.html' title='A breath of fresh air...'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115369241377477297</id><published>2006-07-23T15:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T12:46:40.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Feint</title><content type='html'>...The story is&lt;a href="http://yarnsofimagination.blogspot.com/2006/07/feint.html"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://yarnsofimagination.blogspot.com/2006/07/feint.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115369241377477297?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115369241377477297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115369241377477297' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115369241377477297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115369241377477297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/07/feint.html' title='A Feint'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115364439810917172</id><published>2006-07-23T02:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T12:44:43.003-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Known Stranger</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I decided to shift my fictional stuff to &lt;a href="http://yarnsofimagination.blogspot.com/"&gt;this new blog&lt;/a&gt;....cos it was coming in the way of my regular thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://yarnsofimagination.blogspot.com/2006/07/known-stranger.html"&gt;The Known Stranger &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115364439810917172?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115364439810917172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115364439810917172' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115364439810917172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115364439810917172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/07/known-stranger.html' title='The Known Stranger'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115347771798691579</id><published>2006-07-21T03:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T12:01:20.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'>To-do's off my to-do list</title><content type='html'>On a regular basis I keep a check on what I am doing by following the to-do's scribbled on the post-it software on my desktop. I could categorize them as follows:&lt;br /&gt;Functional: Mostly work related. Like make so and so changes to the code, document something, follow up on something etc&lt;br /&gt;Behavorial: Say a thank you every night before sleeping, stop reading news and blogs, stop chewing the pen, don't eat dessert or chocolates etc&lt;br /&gt;Weekend errands: Do laundry, pay electricity bill, lodge a complaint with the apartment office regarding the clogging etc&lt;br /&gt;List of things: Could be movies to watch, books to read, stuff to buy&lt;br /&gt;Calls and emails: I am bad at returning calls, checking voicemail and replying to emails. So the to-dos on this list reduces at snail's pace.&lt;br /&gt;Must-do's: Things from various lists which have been carried over for too long and now need to be done by hook or by crook!&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday my must-do's list was so long and I was so flustered that I erased everything and wrote KILL MYSELF!!!&lt;br /&gt;Finally I shut down the post-it software and went to sleep. After being bothered by some to-do's and their related consequences all meddled up in one helluva dream-nightmare cocktail, I woke up feeling happy today, surprisingly. On my drive to work I made up my mind to do things completely off my to-do list. And trust me I felt so good. I randomly picked up stuff to do. Splurged on downloading music and listened to it all day. Ate baklava without feeling guilty.  Browsed all the news and blogs I had to catch up on. And also completed a lot of the boring stuff like documentation and commenting the code that I had been postponing. Didn't mind staying at work till 10:30 in the night and driving back without traffic.&lt;br /&gt;And to add icing to the cake I did some soul enriching stuff after I reached home too rather than the drab tv watching, cooking, cleaning and doing the dishes (I hate doing dishes!!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read this:  &lt;a href="http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/content/articles/040524fi_fiction"&gt;Hell-Heaven&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(One of Jhumpa Lahiri's short stories not included in Interpreter of Maladies, I happened to stumble upon)&lt;br /&gt;I fell in love with Lahiri's style of writing the first time I read Interpreter of Maladies long back. Namesake was good too. What connects me to her, I guess, is the Bengali soul. She captures the minutest of details constructing vivid pictures that you can almost visualize. Being a Bengali adds to that experience since most of the things she talks about, you would have encountered in reality. Like the use of the phrase "Hell-Heaven difference" or things like collecting safety pins on a bangle, or the typical Bengali strict mom who warns you about your behavior in the presence of people by giving that stern look, or a tea cup being used as an ashtray or the term *boudi* which is used to address almost any married woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listened to &lt;a href="http://www.raaga.com/channels/hindi/movie/H000749.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;. I think Piya tora kaisa abhiman (Shubha Mudgal and Gulzar's poetry) and Raha Dekhe are fabulous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And read some of &lt;a href="http://www.poemhunter.com/vikram-seth/poet-6741/"&gt;these&lt;/a&gt;.  I love his simplicity. One of my favorites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt;  &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td valign="top" width="20"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;    &lt;td valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;            All you who sleep tonight&lt;br /&gt;Far from the ones you love,&lt;br /&gt;No hand to left or right&lt;br /&gt;And emptiness above -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Know that you aren't alone&lt;br /&gt;The whole world shares your tears,&lt;br /&gt;Some for two nights or one,&lt;br /&gt;And some for all their years.      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Vikram Seth&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt; &lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall go to sleep now ....  hopefully the must-do's are registered in my memory, else I am in for some trouble!! :-(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt; &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width="20"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;    &lt;td width="120"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;    &lt;/tr&gt;    &lt;/tbody&gt; &lt;/table&gt;                                &lt;table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt; &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td valign="top" width="20"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;    &lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt; &lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115347771798691579?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115347771798691579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115347771798691579' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115347771798691579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115347771798691579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/07/to-dos-off-my-to-do-list.html' title='To-do&apos;s off my to-do list'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115319716988307534</id><published>2006-07-17T23:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T00:03:52.590-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Losing my religion</title><content type='html'>Recently I realized that I don't believe in religion, yeah recently. Probably because it took me some years of thoughts, deeds and experiences to come to this conclusion. But now I am crystal clear about what my take on religion is.&lt;br /&gt;I believe in God but not in religion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reasons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The entire goal of religions don't make sense to me - the goal of obtaining liberation from the cycle of life and death - moksha, nirvana whatever you want to call it. Why would I want freedom from this cycle?&lt;br /&gt;This world is beautiful, life is one helluva experience. I would want to return again and again and again. Even if I have to experience pain or be born as a plant or even an amoeba I would still want to experience it because I want to breathe, I want to feel. And then I don't even know what is in store for me to stay back unattached from life, away from here. I am too patriotic an earthling to want to give life up for not living at all. What if I don't like it there and have to wait in a queue for a millenium to get back to the viscous cycle and land myself into a mother's womb??!! I would miss so much in that time and I would be a non-contributor :-( I want to be here 500 years later, 1000 years later, 10,000 years later ... till the world ends. Every time I come back I will get to be a part of a more advanced lifeform, a lifeform which has descended from me, in a place whose soil contains my blood and bones. This is where I belong. This is where I want to be. I do not wish to liberate myself from the cycle of life and death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I believe in Why and not What. Every religion just lays down these set of rules and rituals you are expected to follow. I am willing to follow them but only if I know WHY.&lt;br /&gt;In my opinion you need no religion to understand the difference between good and bad! And anyway good and bad are relative terms. For some religions killing an animal to eat is bad and for some slaughtering an animal to appease God is good! None of the religions I have known so far seem perfect. So I decided to create my own code of conduct by putting together values taken from different religions that make sense to me and filtering out those which don't.&lt;br /&gt;For example it makes sense not to lie, to be honest and sincere, to help, to respect, to love. Things like the caste system, making materialistic offerings to God, or covering my head, or forcing others to convert to my religion etc - I strictly condemn.&lt;br /&gt;It makes sense for me to offer an old person my seat or a helping hand, or adopt a less fortunate child, or plant a tree, or maybe just be honest in my daily work ....these are way way more important than visiting a temple every week and chanting mantras whose meanings I do not understand. It makes more sense to me to donate to CRY rather than a religious organization whose funds are utilized, or should I say wasted, in decorating idols with gold and silver. Cmon, God doesn't care whether you serve food to him twice a day or light incense sticks in front of him and sing hymns. You might as well have served that food to someone who doesn't get a meal. Yes, God cares if you make a mistake and apologise truthfully, or you say a thank you for the good things he has given you or do something that brings a smile on the face of someone else.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I believe in Karma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. So many of the problems the world is facing today is because of religion. Religion causes more tension than peace. The root problem is that every religion thinks it is supreme and demands respect. Why? What about some humility guys?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I condemn all so-called religious practitioners and preachers. All they want is the dough...... yeah that is the hard core truth. I don't believe they can cause any miracles. If something good has happened unexpectedly it is not a miracle or a co-incidence. It is the pre-destined path your life is following and every path has some unexpected turns! In fact this belief somehow always makes me feel optimistic about the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I have written these down I realized that I am quite clear in my thoughts and views regarding this whole religion thing. Yeah I was in doubt, since I have grown up in quite a religious family and have never questioned the rituals done at home and I probably never will, just because it is an individual's wish what he/she wishes to follow and I respect that.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway better late than never. At least now I know what to pass on to my next generations without being confused myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115319716988307534?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115319716988307534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115319716988307534' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115319716988307534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115319716988307534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/07/losing-my-religion.html' title='Losing my religion'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115283746163312868</id><published>2006-07-13T18:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T03:07:07.916-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuck in a moment</title><content type='html'>So.... Italy won and Zidane ended his career with a Red Card for headbutting Materazzi...cmon headbutting??!!! ... in the last few minutes when he knew the match was heading towards penalty shoot outs. The latter apparently insulted his mother and sister which, I think, is a fair enough reason for headbutting someone in the heat of the moment. Will Zidane be stuck in that moment forever, regretting what he did? Will Materazzi be stuck in that moment feeling good about what he did, thinking to himself that maybe thats what got them the cup? Will Trezeguet be stuck in the moment in which he kicked into the crossbar and missed the goal during penalty, which cost his country the cup?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking if I have any moment in my life that I have been stuck in... a moment significant enough to remain alive and arouse the same feelings (good or bad) after an era of no relation to it. Some food for thought!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trivia: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tuck in a moment you can't get out of&lt;/span&gt; was originally written by Bono (U2) about the suicide of the lead singer of INXS. Suicide is probably the worst moment one could get stuck in, its the ultimate point of no return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I am in this stuck-in-the-moment kind of mood, I remembered   a quote: "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;An era of silence cannot wipe away a moment of togetherness&lt;/span&gt;". So true. In recent times I got in touch with a lot of old friends (courtesy social networks) and when I talked to them on the phone after ages there didn't seem to be any discontinuity in the chain of conversation. Its like picking up the thread right where we left it maybe 7 years back, doing a quick recap of what happened in the mean time and then continue the yakitty-yakking, discussing the moments that stick to us or that we stick to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mumbai blasts: Yet again terror struck. Yet again innocent lives were lost. Yet again people cried on losing their loved ones, unexpectedly. Yet again people got stuck in a moment forever. The moment in which the wife of a victim asked her husband to come back early by taking the train that he wouldn't have taken otherwise; the moment in which the guy who took the train just before the one that blasted, escaped death.&lt;br /&gt;How many more times, *dear* terrorists? Will this really affect you in any way?.....what did you gain? Kashmir? Jehad? Or just another moment to stick to, taking pride in arousing some anger ?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115283746163312868?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115283746163312868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115283746163312868' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115283746163312868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115283746163312868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/07/stuck-in-moment.html' title='Stuck in a moment'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115221583627253582</id><published>2006-07-06T14:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T04:49:50.786-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Touch of Nature</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6024/1589/1600/collage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6024/1589/320/collage.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia,bookman old style,palatino linotype,book antiqua,palatino,trebuchet ms,helvetica,garamond,sans-serif,arial,verdana,avante garde,century gothic,comic sans ms,times,times new roman,serif;"&gt;To one who has been long in city pent,&lt;br /&gt;'Tis very sweet to look into the fair&lt;br /&gt;And open face of heaven, - to breathe a prayer&lt;br /&gt;Full in the smile of the blue firmament.&lt;br /&gt;~John Keats&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[June - July 2006 : Deception Pass, Snoqualmie Falls, Wallace Falls, Olympics National Park, Mt.Rainier, Hurricane Ridge, Lake Chelan, Winatchee River (not in order)]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still mesmerized. Hard to write anything about the beauty of Mother Nature 'cause how much every I praise it, it would still be an understatement. So will leave it at Keats' words.&lt;br /&gt;"In City Pent" (the excerpt above is from that poem) was one of my favorite poems in school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115221583627253582?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115221583627253582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115221583627253582' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115221583627253582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115221583627253582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/07/touch-of-nature.html' title='Touch of Nature'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115130687015226226</id><published>2006-06-26T02:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T18:53:27.776-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The non-things that make me :)</title><content type='html'>"Some of the things in life that give us true happiness are not Things" - the ad line for a bank...noticed it on a board while travelling. For the rest of the journey I was trying hard to prove this wrong, but failed. I was looking around to see if there was any*thing* that I was carrying that could give me happiness. I looked on the seat, in my bag, in my hand... the nano, laptop, cellphone, car keys, clothes, shoes, water bottle, sunglasses, maps etc.&lt;br /&gt;One by one I tried to evaluate if any of those things are really a source of true happiness for me.Yeah they make life convinient but I could probably still find happiness without them. Nothing satisfactory :(&lt;br /&gt;I looked out of the window....at the road ahead which was leading me to a destination that I had never been to, at the lush beauty of nature on either sides, at the open crisp blue sky above, at a little girl cycling along the road ... to add to that was the feeling of the warm sun on my skin and cool breeze carrying the tunes of old classics of Frank Sinatra playing on the music system accompanied with laughter of the people in the car whose company matter to me. And I smiled. I said a quick prayer to thank God for the beautiful life that he has given me...a life which does not depend on things for fulfillment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today sitting in my office cube jotting this down I was trying to recollect the events since morning that made me smile, just to double check that they were independent of *things*. So right from start:&lt;br /&gt;Checked my weight to find I lost 3 pounds :)&lt;br /&gt;Familiar face of the bus driver who recognized me and said hello, how are you today? :)&lt;br /&gt;The view of Seattle skyline across the water while crossing the bridge, checked the sky..looks like good weather today :)&lt;br /&gt;At work I got some code running, I was struggling with an issue for two days :)&lt;br /&gt;Had lunch with a friend whom I had not met in the past 5 years :)&lt;br /&gt;Made plans for the evening to watch Pirates of the Carribean: Dead man's chest :)&lt;br /&gt;Looking forward to tomorrow's trip to Mount Rainier :)&lt;br /&gt;Cool, no THINGS!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are reading this feel free to check your list of events of the day and validate/invalidate my opinion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115130687015226226?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115130687015226226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115130687015226226' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115130687015226226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115130687015226226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/06/non-things-that-make-me.html' title='The non-things that make me :)'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115118269499079727</id><published>2006-06-24T15:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T02:24:44.040-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Of known devils and unknown angels</title><content type='html'>My sneakers are three years old and need replacement. But I am just so comfortable in them that I have been avoiding buying a new one. They know my feet so well and have been with me through thick and thin for a long time now. The familiarity and comfort zone that they define is hard to replace. That set me thinking about things that I have noticed people cling on to in the fear of losing their comfort zone or things that we get so used to that we keep postponing their replacement.&lt;br /&gt;Watch- the other day I noticed a PhD student wearing an Alwyn Trendy.Remember Alwyn Trendy, that was my first watch too! The ones which had removable plastic straps with striped grooves. The dial was usually circular and colorful. I was a proud owner of one of those in my teens before I graduated to a Titan. I am sure that watch which the person was wearing is at least 10 years old. Imagine his level of attachment to it that has pursuaded him to treasure that watch for so many years.&lt;br /&gt;Pair of jeans - Almost everyone owns that one pair of jeans that just fits them perfect. When they were new and crisp they weren't their favorite, but after a few washes and regualar wear for a long time they have acquired the perfect color and fit. They are a must wear whether its regular work/school or a first date and doesnt matter if their edges are worn out.&lt;br /&gt;Hairbrush - I have not been able to replace my favorite hairbrush since nothing else seems to give my hair the right texture. New ones either have their teeth too apart or too close.&lt;br /&gt;Laptop/Computer - Computers too have their defined comfort zones. I hate it when I have to switch to a new environment- start from scratch, import bookmarks, reinstall software, add shortcuts to the quick lauch, adjust the folder view settings, get acquainted to a new mouse/joystick/touchpad and even after all this it won't have all my documents, photos, music etc... its a painful process to tread into a new territory and customize it. It is this familiarity due to which a company like Microsoft has survived and will survive for a long long time. They have made people used to their environments, their menus, their functionalities. For a layman to switch to a new operating system or software is like trying to take a detour from his known daily route in a new land.&lt;br /&gt;Comfortor- Changing comforter, pillow and bed leads to disturbed sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Wallet - We get used to the slots which fit the cards and ids perfectly now. The leather has stretched, expanded, collapsed to fit exactly in our pockets. Transferring all the accumulated stuff like passport sized photographs, old credit card receipts which were stored just in case we decided to return the stuff, coins which have no use, small chits with jotted down phone numbers, backup cash and unused cards, important ids etc into a new wallet is a cumbersome process. Moreover the new wallet may not have the right structure or button or the right sized pockets. Similarly changing a bag/purse you are used to carrying everyday is again a headache.&lt;br /&gt;Remote controls - We get used to the placement of the buttons on our remote controls, so used to that we can operate it in the darkness. I hate it when I have to switch to a new remote control and cannot find the right button when I need to change the channel or reduce the volume immediately.&lt;br /&gt;There are several such small things whose familiarity settles comfortably in our lives, so comfortably that even if we realise after several years that we could do with something better we prefer their familiarity to a new experiment. This somehow reminded me of some relationships in which two people, despite knowing that they are not meant for each other and things won't work, hang on because of familiarity... because they are used to each other or some arranged marriages where people fall in love because they grow used to each other. Its not exactly the same analogy but just thought of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115118269499079727?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115118269499079727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115118269499079727' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115118269499079727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115118269499079727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/06/of-known-devils-and-unknown-angels.html' title='Of known devils and unknown angels'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115095548734830749</id><published>2006-06-22T00:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T02:34:41.556-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A new love story</title><content type='html'>I am falling in love. Everything about her is whatever I always wanted. She is beautiful, lively, arty, classy,versatile, smart and intelligent, has coexisting myriad moods- she can be whatever I want her to be. She doesn't bore me with monotony, doesn't incarcerate me, doesn't make me feel that I wanted to be elsewhere. I am attracted to her hopelessly. Will this be a transient liaison or a long term relationship? Only time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For all those who are wondering about my sexual orientation... she is Seattle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115095548734830749?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115095548734830749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115095548734830749' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115095548734830749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115095548734830749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/06/new-love-story.html' title='A new love story'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115024791123992069</id><published>2006-06-13T20:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T02:19:11.203-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some headlines from the top of my head</title><content type='html'>Some events in the past weeks that are worth a comment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rahul Mahajan and drugs:&lt;/span&gt; One of the comments revealed was that he spends 60-70K INR everyday on parties, friends, clubs and of course he forgot to mention, drugs. To think that is more than the individual annual salary of half of India's population! Also he failed a flight training in America, started a software firm and a production company all of which bombed.&lt;br /&gt;So much for our taxes!&lt;br /&gt;Apollo hospital gave him a clean chit. Another hospital contradicted that. There was supposedly no drugs and a low content of alcohol in his blood, the former said. Et tu Doctors?&lt;br /&gt;Let the media hype die down a bit. Let the politician god fathers and family friends buy out a few more people. And soon Rahul Mahajan will be history. Or who knows he might create history in the good books by being elected someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shiloh-Nouvel Jolie-Pitt:&lt;/span&gt; The few days old infant has lived her life in media. Her parents ensconced in Namibia to avoid the paparazzi. They bought the rights for 24 domain names made from the various combinations of her 7 syllabled name with all possible extensions (.com,.org,.net). They sold her photos for more than 4 millionUSD and donated it to charity. Is this too a publicity gimmick or is being a celebrity that tough?&lt;br /&gt;And what's with every hollywood actor wanting to be a parent? Another way of connecting to the masses or is being a celebrity *really* that tough?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Al-Zarqawi killed&lt;/span&gt;: One killed, another succeeds him. The game of musical chairs continue. Will this ever end? Can we hope for peace, love and a tension free life in the year of 6/6/6?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;6/6/6:&lt;/span&gt; Was uneventful. No satans. No devils. Not even a terrorist attack in any part of the world that happens every other day. So much for the pregnant ladies who feared giving birth to the AntiChrist. Those whose fears materialized, will they blame their child's every small mistake or poor grades on the devil? For Christ's sake!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Google's new spreadsheet: &lt;/span&gt;No macros, no graphs.... so excel stays put for now! I appreciate their goal of bringing everything online, though. Free software for hitting a few links everyday. Sure thing! That reminds me of an ad I spotted, painted on a bus in the Redmond, WA area: Why do you want to give your lunch money to the big bullies? - OpenOffice.org&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115024791123992069?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115024791123992069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115024791123992069' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115024791123992069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115024791123992069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/06/some-headlines-from-top-of-my-head.html' title='Some headlines from the top of my head'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-115015300647065162</id><published>2006-06-12T14:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T20:03:58.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding home.....</title><content type='html'>Its been a while. I have been travelling, trying to settle down. Again. A new city, new work place, new room to stay, new weather, new traffic, new computer, new people, new food, new commute, new daily schedule. And this is the probably the 15th time in the past 7 years, since I left home at 18. Hostels, paying guests, apartments, hotels, college, work, school,internships,vacations at home ...time has flown by. While unpacking my luggage last night I was wondering what do I call home? The apartments which change sooner than I can adjust myself to a good night's sleep? The kitchens where I microwave frozen food, which I never equip completely assuming I will do it once I settle down finally, someday. Restrooms where I never get quite adapted to the mirror or the layout. The walls which are not mine, either they are adorned by photographs of families I don't know or they are bare. I make do by putting up the few photos of family and friends that I always carry, on my bedside. The cities whose roads I do not know. My suitcases and bags have to be kept handy all the time since I know my stay here is temporary.&lt;br /&gt;Gone are those days when our family suitcases would come out once a year to be packed before a summer holiday trip. Mom would spend a week trying to ensure all the stuff that everyone will need was taken care of, lists were made, clothes were pressed and on the final day the suitcase was secured by tiny metal locks. Before taking off we would lock the windows and doors, let our maid go for her yearly vacation to her village and inform our neighbours that we are going to be away and that they should keep an eye on our "home". At the end of the vacation all I wanted to do was sleep on my own bed under the same ceiling fan, the noise of which I was so accustomed to that without it I wouldn't get a good night's sleep. Looking out of the window to find familiar faces in the neighbourhood, eating at the dining table, where I had my early meals as a toddler, on plates, that had been demoted to serve regular meals cause they could not be served to guests. The water from the steel filter seemed the safest to drink, the taste of the food, though we complained about it being boring everyday, was tuned to our palates. The shower head, though gushed out water with more strength than I would want, seemed like the only thing that could cleanse all the dirt.&lt;br /&gt;The sound of familiar voices, the feel of familiar touch, the warmth of home.&lt;br /&gt;The balcony where I have spent all my afternoons reading, playing sitting under the washed school uniforms which hung from the rope to dry and where my grandmom has narrated so many a story while tying my hair in plaits. The book case which housed my new brown-paper covered text books and the new story books bought at the book fair in January every year , the collection which had grown from Enid Blyton to Arundhati Roy accompanied all the way by Tinitin and Tinkle and of course my encyclopedias. Its all there in the glass doored wooden book case - my years of wisdom. The Godrej steel almirahs where Ma has stored our childhood clothes for our next generation to wear, with napthalene balls preserving them. The wall hangings collected from our trips, the paintings and photographs which I were a part of. The furniture whose corners had hurt my sister's and my knees while we ran around the living room chasing each other. The study table which was a support for so many years of my education especially during long nights before board exams, the drawers where I stored my secrets, the dressing table where I had sat and tried my first makeup. The television, music system, refrigerator and microwave which still serve us faithfully. The living room echoes the noises of the late night get-togethers, trivial arguments and birthday parties. The bedrooms remind me of the times when all four of us slept in the same bed because there was only one air-conditioner to keep us cool on humid summer nights. The staircases, the patterns of whose tiles are etched in my memory. The large Gulmohar tree, the tubewell, the grocery store..they all stand there the same.Thats my home. It does not have the amenities I would have liked it to have or interior decoration that I have dreamt of. But I don't think I can call anything else *home*.&lt;br /&gt;To convert just a comfort zone to a home would take years of memories and familiarity. Hope I get there someday. Till then I ll miss home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-115015300647065162?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/115015300647065162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=115015300647065162' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115015300647065162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/115015300647065162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/06/finding-home.html' title='Finding home.....'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-114850164569379700</id><published>2006-05-24T13:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T22:41:16.913-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Boom Paradox</title><content type='html'>Wherever we go nowadays,  whatever be the topic of discussion, everyone ends up talking about only one thing: India is booming.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, India is booming enough for the rest of the world to take notice. It has one of the highest GDPs, its an upcoming superpower, Bush is advising his citizens to learn Hindi, the word 'crores' is common vocabulary, standard of living has risen, every international company is looking to expand their operations in India, now when you need to buy a car you do not need to choose from ambassador or fiat- you can opt for a Toyota or BMW, if you are 30 years old and have been in the IT industry you comfortably own a luxury car, live in a posh apartment and have traveled all over the world multiple times, the stock market doubled in the span of a year, cellphone users are growing by leaps and bounds, India is zipping ahead on the development highway. Yes I am proud to be an Indian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let us broaden our horizon a little more, lets peek outside our window, look beyond the corridors of air conditioned offices and five star restaurants, lets look at some stark reality:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50% women in India are still uneducated.&lt;br /&gt;Female infanticide is so high that for every 1000 males there are as less as 750 females in certain states. In some states the situation is so bad that girls are sold for the purpose of marriage because there is a dearth.&lt;br /&gt;26% of Indians are still below poverty line. In some states its almost 50%.&lt;br /&gt;There are over 40% villages in the country where the children are deprived of education. They are either forced to work with their parents, as more hands to work would mean more money to bring home; or there are just not enough schools providing primary education.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A young child laboring all day in the field, without shelter and protection, sleeping on an empty stomach, hoping for a cool breeze at night for a peaceful sleep and dreaming about going to school someday- you think he cares about India being a superpower? Does India's fast growing economy affect him?&lt;br /&gt;There are villages without pure drinking water, where women queue up early morning in front of tubewells with buckets and pails to ensure their children do not go thirsty. They still light lamps in the evening in their small earthen huts unaware of an approaching storm that could sweep away their thatched roof.&lt;br /&gt;A girl child is killed lest her father has to pay dowry in order to get her wed.&lt;br /&gt;A rickshaw puller loses his wife to malignant malaria since he could not afford the treatment. He then spends his savings to buy a mosquito net so that his children can sleep without being attacked by mosquitoes at night.&lt;br /&gt;An average tax-paying middle class government official still rides his scooter through bumpy roads, satisfies the financial needs of policemen, waits for water supply, sleeps in 40 degree centigrade without a fan because there is a power cut and strives to educate his children and support his aged parents whose pensions of course never reach them. He has not seen Disneyland or sat in BMWs. And this kind of person constitutes a majority of the population. Ask him and he will laugh at the thought of India being a super power.&lt;br /&gt;Even if you want to look from your angle, the angle of a mid twenties successful software or finance professional who pays 30 bucks for a cup of coffee, wears Tommy Hilfiger, watches movies in multiplexes, sits in cool offices of multinational companies, travels onsite to earn in dollars and makes his family proud....even from his angle, he still has to ride through potholes, stay stuck in traffic for hours, bribe government officials to get a simple work done and pay taxes which in turn pays for abroad trips of his elected minister's children.&lt;br /&gt;And you still think we are heading towards being a super power? Yes we have the potential, we have brains and the advantage of being English speaking, we have good primary education, we have a huge population, we also have extremely intellectual president and prime minister and I will never deny that. But there is a long way to go.&lt;br /&gt;Infrastructure, education, disease control, poverty control: these are primary issues to be taken care of. And the root of all these problems is one: corruption!&lt;br /&gt;If only our politicians were honest enough, all the incoming money and our taxes could be utilized for benefits. For providing free education, for improving roadways not only in the four metropolis and Bangalore, Pune and Hyderabad but also in the rural areas, providing pure drinking water and electricity, providing medical support.&lt;br /&gt;Education will in turn take care of other problems like aids awareness, population control, female infanticide, dowry etc. Education will also lead to choice of better political leaders. Its a cause-effect relation.&lt;br /&gt;Unless the growth brought forth by the booming industries is channeled towards the majority of the population in rural India, the growth will only serve to create a huge social and economic imbalance and inequality.&lt;br /&gt;The common man who lives off his daily wages needs to be reassured with care.&lt;br /&gt;Every citizen has to have faith in the government, in the law. To build this faith there is the need of commitment, sacrifice and honesty. And who is willing to dedicate that?&lt;br /&gt;Its good to dream but its important to contribute to achieve this dream. Lets think about it. &lt;h2&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h3 align="right"&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-114850164569379700?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/114850164569379700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=114850164569379700' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/114850164569379700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/114850164569379700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/05/boom-paradox.html' title='The Boom Paradox'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-114845210825253527</id><published>2006-05-24T01:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T01:32:48.923-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cross promotion at its best</title><content type='html'>Apple surely aces marketing. Check &lt;a href="http://blog.wired.com/cultofmac/index.blog?entry_id=1486831"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S:&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Cross promoting is when two or more businesses promote their products or services together. It works better for businesses that have the same target audience, but are not in direct competition with each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:Verdana;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-114845210825253527?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/114845210825253527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=114845210825253527' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/114845210825253527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/114845210825253527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/05/cross-promotion-at-its-best.html' title='Cross promotion at its best'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16676137.post-114845116628868257</id><published>2006-05-24T01:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T01:12:46.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding my way...</title><content type='html'>I have a bad sense of direction. Whenever I reach a junction I am confused whether to take a left or a right. Sometimes I go with my intuition. Sometimes I don't think, just drive. Most of the times I am wrong and then I have to look for an appropriate place to take a U-Turn. If I don't find an appropriate place I keep driving, knowing well that I am headed west when I am supposed to go east. Soon I am lost. If I am alone, not queueing up other cars behind me, I make a call to my GPS service (A on the phone with google maps :D) . Yes I need a GPS but they can also be out of date. I get worked up and begin to fret and then terribly miss my country , miss the Indian GPSs.&lt;br /&gt;You know what I am talking about: the autowallahs and rickshaw-wallahs or shopkeepers or any pedestrian...just simply stop the car and ask "Bhaiya yahan se X tak kaise jaaun?"&lt;br /&gt;There will be enthusiastic replies with detailed gesticulated explanations.&lt;br /&gt;Bangalore autowallah:"Madam, left maari. Next circle right maari."&lt;br /&gt;Calcutta rickshaw-wallah:"Didi, shaamne giye baandike jaan. Tar por crossing'e daandike ghurben"&lt;br /&gt;Mumbai taxi-wallah:"Pehle left maarne ka hai, phir aage signal se right maarne ka hai"&lt;br /&gt;Chennai autowallah:"Madam english. No hindi"&lt;br /&gt;Then you reach till wherever they have guided you and repeat the same question with a new bunch of people.&lt;br /&gt;I like it :) and I miss it :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While writing about junctions and directions my mind began to draw an analogy of the situation to decision making.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I am always at a junction when it comes to critical decision making. There are invariably multiple paths to choose from and each looks equally likely and prospective to the other. Some paths can be ruled out with little effort but ultimately there is always a bifurcation to choose from. I try to take a more professional and analytical approach: weighing out pros and cons on excel sheets, color coding the choices,assigning them weights and sorting the columns. There is almost always a tie. Then there are calls to help services: A, mom-dad-B and sometimes friends. That leaves me more confused. Since now I have 3 &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;for&lt;/span&gt; the matter, 2 &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;against&lt;/span&gt; the matter. Should I try another couple of people? Its like tossing a coin in the hope of heads; if heads appears stop else toss an odd number of times till you get the maximum occurances of heads! Silly I agree, the fact that I opted for a second toss itself indicates what I am inclined towards. The risk in this case however is that there are no autowallahs and pedestrians and shopkeepers whose directions I can blindly follow. In this case there is no opportunity of a U-Turn. In this case if I am lost I have to find a detour. Myself. With the aid of my gut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't making a decision for equally prospective untrodden paths always a gamble? Maybe not for many, but for people who belive that good and bad coexist and that there is no such state as utopia it might be a little more confusing. Yes we can estimate consequences, make a few future predictions, look in the blind spots, have a hind sight and foresight but how accurate can we get? If we choose path 1 today it could lead our life to a completely different track. In just a split second if we had chosen path 2 where would we have landed? How would it be if I could trace back my life to the split second decisions that I have made, opt for the other paths that I rejected earlier and see what life had in store for me. It would be an opportunity to prove or disprove the "grass is always greener on the other side" myth/fact. No, I am perfectly happy with my today...just curious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16676137-114845116628868257?l=thoughtographs.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/feeds/114845116628868257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16676137&amp;postID=114845116628868257' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/114845116628868257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16676137/posts/default/114845116628868257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thoughtographs.blogspot.com/2006/05/finding-my-way_24.html' title='Finding my way...'/><author><name>Pi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09661683347277830619</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07754345815442212042'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry></feed>