Guilty Cover-ups?

I keep a small crystal figurine of a horse standing, with its two front legs in air, on a pedestal, in front of my computer to give some aesthetic outlook to my dull workplace, often littered with lots of papers and scribblings. The office boys who clean the desks, after the departure of the employees, often misplace or manhandle it. It was often found lying on its side some few feet away on the desk from my computer. The horse bore all this with great fortitude, in spite of its inherent fragility, and nary a crack appeared. That is, till few days back, when one of my friends came to my workplace, and while idly chatting, had started playing with it. Then.....oops....crackle..off went the horse from its base pedestal! After the customary apologies given and accepted, he managed to place the horse gingerly back on the pedestal. For all outer inspections, the piece is as good as an unbroken one. And now, the interesting part is, since then, I always find the figurine in erect position near my computer, though not exactly in the same location! :-)

Almost the same thing happened in one episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Rachel breaks the back of Joey's favourite chair (which was given a name also, by Joey, which I don't remember right now), and she promises him a brand new chair in place of that old one. And after some time, Chandler comes to Joey's apartment and sits in the chair and discovers that the back is broken. Assuming it to be his mistake, he thinks of replacing this with a brand new one before anyone even realizes his mistake. And guess what, when Joey returns to his apartment, he finds two brand new chairs, apart from his old broken one!!

Not that I'm in the same position as Joey, as I didn't receive the original replacement for the broken piece, let alone a second lucky one! But you do see some similarities, don't you?

Still can't believe....

...that India won over Australie [urinating dog]* When I last saw the match, yesterday, before beginning my Haj back to this place, Hayden and Gilchrist, in particular, were making a mockery of our front-line bowlers. Scoring at more than 6 per over, they passed the 50 run mark quite early, IIRC, in 7th or 8th over itself. It was then that I packed my bags off to the rly station to catch my Air Force One just in time. Today, in the morning, as I alighted the bogey, I caught some words like "yesterday's match" drifting in the air. But I made a strong conscious effort to ignore them, even as I braced myself to read the Obituary in the sports page when I reach home. But, surprise! surprise! What greeted me on my arrival, is a large picture of Sachin at the end of his follow through of a patented straight drive, and the explanatory footnote! Ahh, what a relief!

And more good news. Indian government has finally decided to use the oft neglected brain part in decision making. What good did it achieve, suspending all cricketing ties for the past one and half year? Don't give me the "playing while the soldiers are dying" bull. Haven't the soldiers been sacrificed for the past 10 years? Ok, even if we agree that we've had our eyes covered with hide all the while and didn't realise the monstrosity of this moral blunder, then why ONLY cricket? Hockey, or any other sport, is not 'played' according to the BJP's dictionary? Playing with people's sensiblities has been a popular pastime of these right-wing hawks.

Hey, I ain't no expert on Foreign Policy, but, since even I can see such glaring inconsistency, I can't but feel sorry (for everyone at large)!

* - Can anyone tell me what "[urinating dog]" means? Clue is right here in the blog [urinating dog]

Journey in Indian Trains...A fulfilling experience!

How often do you feel that you are staring at the very core of the Indian Psyche? I feel that almost every time I step into a train carriage. Trains here, in my opinion, reperesent a microcosm of Indian life, offering a glimpse of almost every typical individual in our Indian society - doting grandfather gently chiding the errant kid, college-going student with well-oiled hair and bigger-the-better spectacles, newly wed couple whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears, and most frequent of all, the typical Indian middle class (not in derogatory sense, please) husband with a small entourage, replete with a wife, three kids, four pillows, few mattresses and other paraphernilia sufficient to run a small picninc camp for a group of 20!

When I said Indian Psyche, I meant Indian Psyche! Since most Indians are ill-equipped with the necessary skills of pretension, they end up showing their true private self in their public appearances too. This is more observable on trains journeys since 8 persons are confined to a single bay and are bound to be witnesses to whatever happens there, irrespective of your choice, whereas in buses, with an individual seat, you are somewhat insulated from the next person's vagaries. You can very well expect the stranger sitting next to you start a seemingly innocuous conversation, starting with an enquiry of time leading to the very depths (or heights) of your family tree. Ultimately, you'll be surprised to find that that guy sitting next to you was all the while a distant relative to you, connected through the various branches of the huge tree you've been hanging on! And then there is that middle-aged businessman who, I believe is going through a somewhat costly process called 'Cover-All-Your-Exposed-Body-Parts-With-Gold'. thinks that the guy on the other side of the cell-phone is born deaf and hence relies more heavily on the space-medium than the wireless medium to get the message across (bad grammar, I know!).

Why this inspired lecture on the trains, you may ask? I had a soul-searing experience on the train yesterday which culminated in this outburst. I had the (mis)fortune of sharing my bay with two young ladies, one of them a mother of two, accompanied by a elderly looking man. Shortly after the train left the station towards its destination, I pulled out my book and started to read, as is my wont when I am unaccompanied, oblivious of all the general commotion around, before everyone settles down. I was dimly aware of the gentle buzz of the converstation of those three, joined now by another guy in the early twenties, floating around. I was also aware of the slow darkening of the compartment with people switching off the lights to quietly drop to sleep, but I carried on reading since the trio here gave no indication of resting, and I was happy for that. I normally end up shutting the book shut in trains at abnormal points, owing to the requests of the fellow travellers, and I was thankful to these guys for giving me the oppurtunity to read to my heart's fill before calling it a day (funny expression, isn't it?). I finally decided to get on the bed at around 11 in the night, expecting the other conversationalists to give in any moment then (it was already almost 2 hours of continous chatter!). Boy, was I wrong! They continued to move from one topic to another glibly, with the mother of two expounding on every issue under the sun, for two MORE hours! And there I was writhing in pain, trying to catch some sleep before woken up again in the morning. I almost reached my saturation point and was preparing a small speech to be delivered at their feet, pleading my case. But my ego didn't approve of this measure and so decided to take the fight to the enemy's camp. Though I didn't have anyone to chat with, I decided to wage the mental war of staying awake and try not to sleep as long as tney are awake (anyway, I didn't have anyother go!). What seemed to be a pathetic torture turned out to be a battle of will! Finally the enemy conceded defeat and dispersed at around 1.30 in the morning. I gave a self-satisfying smile to myself in the darkness, and turned over to catch whatever is remaining of my sleep!

You may wonder what's the big deal about all this? I think you'll appreciate my pain better, if you were sleeping on a berth with room barely enough to stuff your feet inside the iron grilling, at the door right next to the toilets with the urine smell pervading all through (this, interstingly, didn't even elicit a passing comment from those three world-thinkers!) the compartment.

Off for Diwali

Guys, I'm off to my homplace once again, this time with the excuse of Diwali. I seriously believe that Indian Railways ought to give some some kind of concession to its biggest patron!

A Very Happy Diwali to all of ya out there!

Do I need a stupid poll to tell me I am intelligent?

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You are Form 5, Dragon: The Weaver.

"And The Dragon seperated the virtuous from the sinful. He tore his eyes from his sockets and used them to peer into the souls of those on trial to make a judgement. He knew that with endless knowledge came endless responsibility."

Some examples of the Dragon Form are Athena(Greek), St. Peter (Christian), and Surya(Indian). The Dragon is associated with the concept of intelligence, the number 5, and the element of wood. His sign is the crescent moon.

As a member of Form 5, you are an intelligent and wise individual. You weigh options by looking
at how logical they are and you know that while there may not always be a right or wrong choice, there is always a logical one. People may say you are too indecisive, but it's only because you want to do what's right. Dragons are the best friends to have because they're willing to learn.

Which Mythological Form Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

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A Dreary Day

It has been raining outside for the past coupla hours and I'm stuck here in the office. My head is heavy and arms tired. Met some guys, whom I've known on the net, for first time in the afternoon and the lunch took the whole afternoon. When we stepped out of the restaurant, there it is - a torrential rain. Hiding behind my back all the while when I was outside, it attacked when I'm safely ensconced inside doing some pet-pooja. It took me one and half hours to traverse 15 kms from the restaurant to my office, moving forward whenever there was some respite and running for shelter when it broke loose.

To add salt to the wounds, our cricket team had managed to make a mess out (*once again*) of a good batting wicket. When everyone is expecting a Sri Lankan world record type knock out of a batter-friendly wicket, our batting tigers go out there and make a mockery of the 'strong' batting lineup! Following on disgracefully, we were reduced to 18/3, I heard. I couldn't bring myself to follow the scores online, but peeped into the result after the match and found that we've managed to eke out a draw, thanks mainly, again, to the stylish Laxman. Ahh, I just can't wait to see the Aussies having us for brunch, supper and dinner!

Keep Talking

I'm finally done with the project that has been devouring me and my time for the past few weeks. Now I hope to catch up with my friends, hobbies and life at large. Having spent the past several weeks staring dumbly at an even dumber computer, for the best part of the day, I'm slightly feeling overwhelmed with the amount of free time I have on my hands right now. If you observe, I've already posted thrice today! Not that I'm entirely jobless, but in comparision with the past, I'm practically holidaying. With the prospect of a fine weekend ahead, I'm probably at my cheerful best of the whole week.

For millions of years
mankind lived just like the animals
then something happend
which unleashed the power of our imagination

We learned to talk!

Can you believe that these sentences in the song were read out by Stephen Hawking (well, of course, by his synthesizer)? How appropriate! Rock on Floyd!

Of Walking Wraiths & Ghastly Ghouls...

Here are two Flash animations, I received today, simulating some persons' supernatural visions :

[Walk like an Egyptian]
[Bonded for eternity]


Gotcha :)

Glass houses and stones...?

Lo, behold! Pakistan, our friendly neighbour is accusing India of running terror camps in Afghanistan. Well, well, well! I'm not disputing the veracity of the report. Neither am I blindly believing in it. For all we know, it might be true. RAW is not a pet to be fattened for shows - if ISI can degrade itself to such acts which are attributed to it, then ISI shouldn't be averse to following the same route.

Or taking the cue from our incompetent ministers, who always see a mysterious 'foreign hand' in any anti-social event, Pakistan too might have decided to pay in the same coin. What ever be the reason, Pakistan would do well to realize that hate begets hate, and that India can shed its Mahatma image to get down to some dirty bit of work!

F.R.I.E.N.D.S

I'm sorta missing FRIENDS these days - Phoebe's insane ramblings, Rachel's cute looks, Ross's imbecile face and most of all, Joey's scholarly, often gross, comments! Though Chandler and Monica are a bit less eccentric, and hence do not quite fit into the group, but they constitute the necessary support group. Where else would you find such a bunch of individuals, each insane in their own way?

All that aside, I'd watched the last episode of Season 8 last year, where Joey breaks it to Ross that his (Joey's, not Ross's) latest heart-throb is his (Ross's, not Joey's) ex-fiancée, their mutual friend Rachel. And I've been dying of suspense since then - what happened after that? How did Ross react to that? Did Joey ever get to reveal this to Rachel (remember, she was pregnant with Ross's child at that time :))? If yes, how did she react?

This sunday, as I was leisurely switching the channels on the TV, I chanced upon an episode of FRIENDS on Zee English, almost nearing the end. I managed to catch a bit, where Joey was kneeling, with a ring in his hand, before Rachel, who was still in her maternity clothes sitting in a hospital bed (she just delivered Ross's baby)! I didn't understand if he was proposing to her or just enacting some scene or just fooling her, as was his wont. Can some kind soul tell me if he had finally done it and the reaction of Rachel, and put me out of the misery?

Though I am one of those, who thoroughly despice the soap operas, that infest the Hindi as well as the regional language channels, where the actors and actresses seem to be paid according to the buckets of tears they shed, I didn't find this kind of sentimentalist romance in the normally hilarious show objectionable, because the director/screenplay wright never lost sight of the main objective of the show i.e., to amuse the audience.

Some random observations

Of the blogs I've been visiting for the past few days (or even weeks), I've noticed that the ones maintained by the fairer sex are far more pleasing to the eye (some ot them truly breathtaking!) and are more of personal diaries for poring out their inner feelings, while the blogs of men are pessimistic (like mine) in tone, if not exactly hate-filled. Current affairs and sports find mention more often than not in the 'male blogs', while love and partying figure prominently in the 'female blogs'. And any post on a female blog sounding, even remotely, sorrowful will have a comments section crammed with guys expounding all sorts of advice, to keep calm, to move ahead and all such crap, such a post on a guy's blog would hardly elicit a comment (though posts of such nature are quite scarce on guys' blogs, in my observation)!

Of course I'm neither making any generalisations nor any allegations. Just, as the title says, some random observations during my yet nascent life in the blog world.

Au revoir, till tomorrow....

Few Last Words....

I am back again, indulging in my favorite pastime - Cribbing. Life has become one loooooong soap opera, neither moving forward nor stepping back, nothing interesting whatsoever, neither a funny accident on the road nor a stampede for movie tickets! As has become my habit of late, I am again working (in fact not so much 'working' as 'browsing') late into the night. Can you believe that, for the past few days, I was spending barely one and half hours of my 17 hours of my conscious life each day? What has my Life come to? If Life doesn't mend its ways quickly, then I'll have to take the case into my hands, and take I shall!

And I begin to suspect that Fate too joined hands with Life, to make matters. How else could I explain the just concluded company conference, where my butt was glued to the chair for THREE continuous hours???? Never were my cushiony regoins of my lower part subjected to such pain, since my gym-frequenting days! Of course you would be erring, if you supposed I was listening to the other participants of the conference. Nope...I was browsing the Indian bloggers list and checking each one out. Boy, are they cool! Apart from my ass, my ego too took a beating :( This turned out to be a pretty bad night. I had better head back home and catch some all-soothing Sleep.

Q: What decides Armageddon?
A: Timezone

I'm not one for the character-improving mails, that generally worm their way to your inbox despite your strict vigilance. And a swift kick in the butt, to the nether regions of Trash, is all they get, if I catch them sneaking in. But this particular sentence caught my eye, simply because of its sense of humor.

"Don't worry about the world coming to an end today......It's already tomorrow in Australia."
-- Charles Schultz

Er..but Australia is still vulnerable, isn't it? But this Schultz chap may be an American, in whose imagination, 'world' comprises nothing but the 50 states and the honorary 51st state, England.

Questions, questions, questions....

Why am I staying so late in the office, when I should be fast asleep in my bed? Why am I writing this blog, with eyes resembling rivers of blood? Why does everyone on the road think that they are playing a videogame? Why do authors think it mandatory to put some esoteric latin phrases in their books? Why are American public so gullible, so as to believe whatever drivel the Chimp churns out? Why are they always 'proud' beauties? Why is interest in Wodehouse always thought to be adoloscent? Why can't I tell the direction of East, anywhere, anytime without certainty? Why does VHP (or RSS) think it is the voice of Hindus? Why do America and Australia have immigration laws? Why do I try to be funny, when I know I'm not? .....

....damn all questions

Position of the Preposition

Another masterful illustration of the usage of a preposition at the 'rear-end' (of the sentence).

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"Excuse me, can you tell where the Widener Library is at?"
"I beg your pardon, but at Harvard we don't end a sentence with a preposition."
"OK, can you tell where the Widener Library is at, a**hole?"

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Cunning Punning

Another of the English gems, brought to you by Loony on Moon (courtesy - a yahoo group he belongs to..)

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Those who jump off a bridge in Paris are in Seine.
A backward poet writes inverse.
A man's home is his castle, in a manor of speaking.
Dijon vu - the same mustard as before.
Practice safe eating - always use condiments.
Shotgun wedding: A case of wife or death.
A man needs a mistress just to break the monogamy.
A hangover is the wrath of grapes.
Dancing cheek-to-cheek is really a form of floor play.
Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?
Condoms should be used on every conceivable occasion.
Reading while sunbathing makes you well red.
When two egotists meet, it's an I for an I.
A bicycle can't stand on its own because it is two tired.
What's the definition of a will? (It's a dead giveaway.)
Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
In democracy your vote counts. In feudalism your count votes.
She was engaged to a boyfriend with a wooden leg but broke it off.
A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion.
If you don't pay your exorcist, you get repossessed.
With her marriage, she got a new name and a dress.
When a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds.
The man who fell into an upholstery machine is fully recovered.
You feel stuck with your debt if you can't budge it.
Local Area Network in Australia: the LAN down under.
He often broke into song because he couldn't find the key.
Every calendar's days are numbered.
A lot of money is tainted - It taint yours and it taint mine.
A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat.
He had a photographic memory that was never developed.
A plateau is a high form of flattery.
A midget fortune-teller who escapes from prison is a small medium at large.
Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.
Once you've seen one shopping centre, you've seen a mall.
Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead-to-know basis.
Santa's helpers are subordinate clauses.
Acupuncture is a jab well done.

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I couldn't understand the plateau and flattery thing though. Can someone explain it in simple terms so as to be understandable to a person with negative IQ?

It's Official, Schumi Sr is the Greatest!

Schumi has finally done it, though not exactly in style. Though managing to finish only eight at Suzuka, he earned that valuable single point which would've made all the difference had Raikkonen finished in the first place. But Rubens had not given Kimi even that chance, as he comfortably pushed him aside to take the trophy at the final race of this season.

Closer at home, India once again managed to salvage a draw from a precarious situation which had every hint of victory! I think we Indians have perfected this fine art and should be kept as a closely guarded secret!

Zero Hour is back!

After much thought (spanning 1min 12 secs, to be precise), I've decided to put the comments link back. After all, this is Liberty Hall and Democracy and all that jazz. People should be given a chance to spell out their grievances against my painful blabberings. But didn't find any reason to put the discussion board back on, as this is MY blog and there is no chance of discussion, either for or against. I rule and I rule absolutely!

Dreamz Unlimited

Having left the office at 2.30 in the morning, I reached my home at 2.45 and promptly took the Perry Mason and started reading. It was 4 in the morning by the time I finished the book, and wound up the day for a nice long sleep.

I was travelling in a train - packed with people of all kinds and sizes, filling every inch of space in that packed-to-the brim concentration camp. It is presently going through a dark tunnel. The air filled with fear and excitement; people talking in whispers and parents holding onto their children in tight grips; the faces displaying horrid expectations. I just can't understand what or why. I started walking, through a sea of arms and legs which in normal circumstances would've been called the corridor. As the train came out of the tunnel, light started pouring into the windows. And then as I was feeling a little cheerful, it all started happening at once. Rocks started rolling down from the mountain wall adjoining the track, people started swaying inside the train, the whole world seemed to be put on a cradle, and it dawned on me that I was in the middle of an earthquake!! I didn't know whether to be excited about this novel experience, or to be panicked! I just kept on walking, rather staggering, pushing aside the falling bodies. The next immediate moment everything seemed normal, except that people seemed to be collected in groups with some injured or deceased member in the middle. Some of them seemed to be wailing, but the sound didn't reach my ear. I was walking in a daze. There were people whom I knew - a cousin, a colleague, a cine actress of yesteryears (somehow heroines just can't stay away from my dreams!) - a truly varied collection of people, with no reason for them to be there in that train (that, in fact, is the best part of dreams)! And after some gap in space and time, I was swimming in a large tank by the side of the road, either to save myself or someone else........

I was woken up then, somewhere around 10.30 or so, by my considerate roommate who thinks excess sleep is injurious to others' health. After plaintively appealing to his better senses, that I'd hardly slept for 6 and half hours, he allowed me to catch my beauty sleep and hold on to it for a couple of hours before snatching it for the day at 12:30. And two hours later, I landed in the office again and was caught here for the past 5 hours!! Need to head back home, sigh!

No comments or discussions on (about?) my blog :<

Seeing that the ability to allow anyone to write anything in either the message window or discussion can be a potential security risk, what with all the worms, viruses and insects infesting the nest, not to mention the countless ticks, I've removed the two features from my blog. But please do send a mail if you want to say something, or ANYthing!

Sounds paranoid, doesn't it? Well, I guess I was always like that. Need to live with myself.

Three Golden Rules of Grammar

This is the gist of the mail I received from one of the e-groups I belong to. Those chaps are real brainy, I tell ya!

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1. Remember to carefully avoid spilit infinitives.

2. Prepositions are something you should never end a sentence with.

3. Avoid, shun, and eschew all repetition, redudancy, and tautology.

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And with reference to the second rule, there is one interesting quotation attributed to the Late British PM Winston Churchill - "This is the kind of nonsense up with which we should not put".

Sounds like a master grammarian, doesn't he?

Enter Sandman...

Oh The Great Sand Bearer! Oh The Dispenser of Magical Sleep! Why don't you bless me with some of your divine samplings! Why am I browsing mindless blogs at 12:59 AM, where I should have been keeping a date with my imaginary girlfriend in your blessed land?

Sleep with one eye open
gripping your pillow tight

Exit light,
Enter night
Take my hand
Off to never never land

............zzzzzzzzzz

Why is the Chimp called Dubya?

I've been thinking it for quite some time, and the answer to this question is finally provided by one blog. I'm reproducing it here (hopefully without any copyright problems):

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The origin of 'Dubya'

From: usaweekend.com

Columnist Molly Ivins coined it in 1995; it's the spelled-out Texas-drawl version of Bush's middle initial (for "Walker"). Her editor at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram tells us Ivins "owned" 'Dubya' from the mid-'90s to 1999, then it caught on with everyone else." Well, not really everyone. Close friends call Bush "George W." His dad sometimes calls him "Quincy," a reference to John Quincy Adams, the only son of a president to become president. And almost everybody else calls him "Mr. President."

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Imagination coupled with Engineering

True to its reputaion, Discovery channel brought this amazing, futuristic engineering marvel!

Though it would take at a conservative estimate five decades to attain engineering proficiency of such scale, would people really need to travel from London to Newyork in 55 minutes? Hmm..one can never say, can one? Never underestimate the future!

When Politicos turn into Poets...

Our world's self-appointed Divine acolyte, Virtuosity personified, our own Dubyaman, George Bush Jr has (for reasons still eluding science and more importantly CIA) taken to poetry!! I really dread the day when the President rolls out stanzas and stanzas of 'poetry' after his normal package of lies and deceptions on his national address. I Pity the americans -- and this happening so soon after the 9/11!!

"Roses are red/ Violets are blue/ ... /Seeing you kissed by that charming French guy...."

Just don't have enough courage to reproduce the whole poem here!

Change of regime at the top

After a 9 year lonely stint at the helm, Brian Charles Lara has finally made way to the new King - Mathew Hayden, from Down Under.

This massive powerhouse has the ability and power to bulldoze all players and records into submission, if he is allowed to continue in the same form. Anyway, Good Luck to him!

Church to the AID(s)?

For ages, the Church had always been a strong advocate of science - by being on the wrong side of the arguments, it promotes the correct side!! Ingenious isn't it? From Galileo to the current day condom usage, they have always been magnanimous enough to take the blame for pigheaded dumbness.

"....The Catholic Church is telling people in countries stricken by Aids not to use condoms because they have tiny holes in them through which the HIV virus can pass - potentially exposing thousands of people to risk....". I may be extremely naïve, but isn't there more sense in using _something_ rather than nothing? Despite thousands of dumb doctors around the world certifying the usage of condoms as an effective way of containing AIDS, the Vatican is competent enough to rule out all their claims, I suppose.

Ig(nominious) Nobel for an Indian!!!

Ahh...the day has finally come!! An Indian's name on the (Ig) Nobel roll call (you can easily IGnore the IG, can't you?). What more can I ask for?

Home Alone - starring myself

Had a lot of free time at my home during the four days I stayed at home, as my friend, who generally sticks like glue to me (I don't mean it derisively) when I come home, had to leave on an unplanned tour. Thus my timetable was more or less simplified to - playing AOQ on my comp, watch TV, read a book for sometime - and the cycle continues.

I took Terry Pratchett's 'Mort' (or more appropriately MORT, as one guy suggests - read it to find y) along with me to read in my journey. But with the advantages listed out in my last post associated with a bus journey, I found it hard to concentrate on any such less pressing matters. So I took the task up in the more danger-free precincts of my home and completed it in considerably quick time. And Pratchett really deserves all the rave reviews (that prompted me to read his output - Mort is my first Pratchett) which came his way. He has a distinct sense of humour not unlike that of Douglas Adams. One striking similarity I found between these two is the true eccentricity and originality in the names of the places or people in their plots. I guess that is true in case of most fantasy writers - the greatest of them all J R R Tolkiens ( I must say that Rowling comes nowhere close to these authors).

Immediately after finishing 'Mort', I spotted a Perry Mason lying around, which my good friend had left for me to read. In fact I've been waiting to read a Perry Mason for a long time and this proved to be the most oppurtune moment. I duly tucked into with diligence and Gardner didn't disappoint me. It's as racy as a Holmes story and concisely written with gripping dialogues. I think I read some 100 pages in one day, a record of sorts for me, but couldn't complete the book at home. And look at my misfortune - I haven't been able to lay my hands on it since I landed back in town! It's 12 midnight and here I am putting the office resources to best possible utilization :) Gotta go home and catch my beauty sleep.

Ohh..I almost forgot. Yesterday too I had to spend best part of the night at the office and when I had expected to sleep like a log after that, I was rudely woken up at 5 in the morning by I-dunno-what! Hunger, it must be. And so took an apple and completed one chapter in that Mason as well as the apple and went back to sleep :) (so, my earlier statement that I didn't touch the book after landing is not entirely true!)

Bumpy Bus Ride

Well, being as lazy a bum as ever lazed on this planet, I usually end up with the shorter side of the stick when it comes to getting train tickets to my home and hence take to the ever ready, supposedly, hi-tec buses. And the last time was no exception. Promptly, as only I can be, I discovered that I stand in waiting list 140 if I try to reserve a train ticket, just 2 days before the scheduled date of departure, I went and reserved a bus ticket which was to take me on the morrow's evening and deposit me at my home place on the next day's morning - somewhere close to 10 hours of night journey.

Board the bus, take a nap, open your eyes, alight the bus - is the modus operandi, one might suppose and he wouldn't be far from the truth! Step 1 and 4 remain the same, but steps 2 and 3 are the ones that matter and are the ones which alter one's opinion of the buses in general. We do take a nap - but the duration (which a layman might assume to last for hours) usually averages 14.76 minutes with a variance of 3.19 minutes. And statistics also go on to show that on an average number of times one opens his eyes 'to a shock' on a 10 hour bus journey is close to 50. With the local authorities striving to recreate moon's surface on the roads, one gets a swift kick on the butt down from the King of Hades every few minutes, sending you flying few feet into the air before hitting the ceiling of the bus.

And don't think that there ends the matter. The real party starts when it starts to rain. The seemingly huge, hitec buses do have a vulnerability against tiny, crude, unsophisticated raindrops. How much ever tightly you close your windows, steady streams of rain water find their way from the sides of windows to your seat, thus giving you a bath to one side of your body. Obviously you need to plant yourself in your neighbour's lap, if you intend to avoid this. And that may not find favorable acceptance with your neighbour, more so if it belongs to the opposite sex!

But I'm not entirely against bus journeys, though. There are few advantages where a bus journey surely scores over train journey. One thing that readily reckons itself is the nature peeing. I especially love relieving myself in the vast fields that adjoin the highways, when the bus stops for refreshment and 'relievement'. Peeing at the sides of the highway is, I feel, necessary in the sense that the nutrients thus delivered to the roadside plants enable them to develop into huge trees lining the road, thus improving the driving experience :-) It also instills in me the feeling of humility - seeing the huge vastness of the empty spaces before me, the same feeling inspired, when I sat on Besant nagar beach on so many nights, facing the sea and listening to the roar of the high tide. It's just an out-of-the-world experience! Coming back to the topic, the same cannot be said about the activity (roadside peeing) in the cities though! It's so disgusting seeing people spit, pee and defecate on the roads as if they are public lavatories, yuck! And as some old bird said - burning yourself through the furnace of sufferings makes you a better and brighter person. And the bus journey is surely one such furnace that the passengers go through, even if the question of whether one requires a bit of polish or not is quite debatable.

At the end of it, a bus journey is an experience one has to budget for, in his/her life's itinery!

Dreams in Reality.....OR......Reality in Dreams?

Well, this stuff has harassed me for quite some time but couldn't get around to venting it out before, and here is my chance to finally get this thing off my chest. After a fitful sleep in the bus on my homeward journey I made last week, I dozed off to a peaceful 3 hour nap on a bed at home in the early hours of the morning. And please blame these 3 hours for the crap that follows.

Amisha Patel, a beautiful bollywood belle, was walking towards me, in fact, wading through a mist of heavenly translucence. She was in dazzling white cloth, the ends of which are flowing from her sides in the slight breeze, quite complementing the fair glow of her skin. And we held our hands and her beautiful face was so close to mine that I could feel the warmth of her breath, hear her soft heartbeat. It felt so real! Eventually we 'met' in that divine union for which the Nature has a dichotomy of sexes. And the pleasure was so intense that the ejaculation brought me back to the 'real' world!

Don't think those were the ravings of a pervert mind (though they in fact are!). I have no intention of propagandizing my sexual fantasies. My point was to highlight the subtle and intriguing nature of our brain in conjuring up things, that otherwise are quite impossible in real or physical world. Myself sharing bed with the said Patel is as probable as Bill Gates giving up all his money for a hermit life. But in the dream, I've experienced every possible sensual pleasure as can be experienced in a physical intercourse - the touch, the sound, the warmth, which culminated in an orgasmic ejaculation, which I believe is testimonial to the irrelevance of tangibility when it comes to senses.

When our human brain is capable of simulating extremes of pleasure, sexual or otherwise, without any physical stimulation whatsoever, can it do the same with other emotions? I think it can simulate stress, worry as is evident from sweating of some people while sleeping. What about grief? I haven't heard of tears in sleeping people? But all in all, this poses some uncomfortable questions. Can a human brain make the physical world ineffectual? Come to think of it, Matrix is not such bad hypothesis, after all, is it? Rearing fields of babies connected through various tubes with disgusting fluids passing through them is not my idea of a bright future!

Any comments on my thoughts?

I've been trying for the past two days to find a gap small enough to pump some of my outpourings on to this blog, but the Powers that Be have conspired to deny me that! But do watch this space for more to come from me.

Hmm....have lots to say after the absence of 5 days!!! But wait -- need to attend to urgent matters before baring my heart!