tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10734939347580157632024-03-06T03:14:04.509+05:30rightowriteMy mind, passions and thoughts in pictoral and textual format. Sometimes, there's a point. Sometimes, what's the point.The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-32201224454089926342013-06-20T12:38:00.002+05:302013-06-20T12:38:43.294+05:30Save Water, Save Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
सुना है महादेव की तुम बिना पोर्टफोलियो के मिनिस्टर की श्रेणी में आते हो <br />विद्या के लिए सरस्वती<br />धन के लिए लक्ष्मी <br />शरीर के लिए कामदेव <br />तुम्हारा क्या काम है <br /><br />हाँ थोडा बहुत पानी निकलता है तुम्हारे जटाओं से <br />मगर सच पूछो तो वोह पीने लायक नहीं है<br />गलती से कोई पी ले तो तुमहारे चिल्लम की तरह धुआं धुआं हो जाए उसकी ज़िन्दगी <br /><br />मगर इसका मतलब यह नहीं की तुम अपने ego पर काबू न रखो <br />बिना पोर्टफोलियो के भी तुमहारे काफी प्रशंसक हैं <br />अब यह क्या तुम्हे शोभा देता है की उन्हीं प्रशंसकों को प्रलय में झोंक दो <br /><br />अरे महादेव, ज़रा ठहरो, धर्य रखो<br />इतना पानी बहा रहे हो<br />और पीने के लिए पानी नहीं है <br />Please remember 'Save Water, Save Life' <br /> </div>
The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-30234669382006943932013-02-13T16:24:00.002+05:302013-02-13T16:24:59.132+05:30बहुत सालों के बाद किसी का ज़िक्र आ गया <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
बहुत सालों के बाद किसी का ज़िक्र आ गया<br />युहीं बातों बातों में <br />निकल आये रिश्ते, निकल आये कहानियां <br />कुछ सुनी, कुछ अनसुनी <br />बहुत सालों के बाद किसी का ज़िक्र आ गया ...<br /><br />वोह बता रह थे उसके बारे में<br />मैं खुद को रोक खड़ा था <br />तुम मुझे क्या बताओगे जो मुझे पहले से मालूम नहीं <br />उसकी मुहब्बत, उसकी तन्हाई, उसकी सिसकियाँ <br />उसकी बेवाफैयाँ, उसकी दोस्ती, उसका चेहरा <br />जो कभी न भूल पाऊँगा मैं <br />बहुत सालों के बाद किसी का ज़िक्र आ गया </div>
The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-56740719005330716662012-04-11T17:28:00.000+05:302012-04-11T17:29:59.145+05:30तपनाबदरा बदरा करने वालों<br />ज़रा सोचो उस किसान की<br />जो कटाई करने वाला है|<br /><br />इक बारिश, कुछ बूँदें <br />बेशक तुम्हारे दिल को ठंडक पहुंचाए <br />मगर उसके लिए एक खौफ का नज़ारा है|<br /><br />हल जोता है, फल के सपने पिरोयें हैं <br />पानी ढो कर सींचा है<br />आज, उसी पानी से डर है!<br />फल, फसल, पेट, आज तीनों को खतरा है| <br /><br />ओ बादल, <br />लौट जा, बिखर जा<br />आज मत बरस <br /><br />गर्मी की इस तपती लू <br />उस किसान के तपने से बेहतर है|The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-330275433131536062012-03-15T17:39:00.000+05:302012-03-15T17:40:27.695+05:30यह मुहब्बत सवालों की मोहताज नहींबहुत खामोश रहते हैं वो,<br />जवाब नहीं देना एक बात है<br />मगर सवाल को अनसुना कर देना <br />ख़ामोशी से बत्तर है|<br /><br />वक़्त वक़्त की बात है<br />कभी उनके सवाल ख़तम नहीं होते थे<br />अब हर सवाल पे जैसे दम निकलता है|<br /><br />चलो यह भी सह लेंगे <br />आखिर उसने कभी तो मुहब्बत का इज़हार किया था|The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-64718021655310444202011-12-30T16:48:00.000+05:302011-12-30T16:49:19.896+05:302011Many years from now when I will hopefully have the wisdom to give myself the time to introspect, I will look back at 2011 and have only one thing to say: ‘what a year’.<br /><br />During the New Year’s Eve party last year we played a game. All of us had to write on a chit what we wanted to do in 2011 and the others had to guess who wrote what. I don’t remember what I wrote, but I will never be able to forget what my father wrote. ‘All good men go to heaven’. Five days later, we came perilously close to seeing his wish almost being fulfilled. <br /><br />My father has the uncanny knack of waking me up early from sleep and when his third heart-attack struck we were still an hour from first light. Medhavi and I were just over a month away from the arrival of our first child. And there was a realistic chance that the grandfather may miss seeing the grandchild. Over the next two weeks, we waited and my dad fought. He was okay to go, but he was not okay to go without putting up a fight. And for the nth time, his will triumphed. <br /><br />Friends, family, colleagues and well-wishers - there was no dearth of support or prayers. One must be more than lucky to be surrounded by people who give without expecting anything in return. I was overwhelmed. <br /><br />A month later, dad was with us at the hospital lobby waiting for his grandchild. Ruhaan arrived in the middle of the Cricket World Cup. I was editor of a cricket website at that time. But again, I was surrounded by a special circle – I managed to take seven days off. No calls, no mails, no cricket reports. It was the first step towards work-life balance. <br /><br />I went back to work. India won the World Cup.<br /><br />Ruhaan was already a month old by then. A month later, we started him on a diet of road trips. In eight months, he travelled thrice to Ranikhet and once to Barog. The third trip to Ranikhet was a toughie. Stuck on the highway due to a religious festival and forced to take detours through village roads and paths that did not exist on the map, we were pushed to our limits. Tired, hungry, sleep-deprived, Ruhaan was the only reason we kept pushing ourselves. I had driven us all into a hole, and I had to dig us out of it. Through it all, he cried just once. It was as if he was asking me ‘Just what do you think you are doing’. I had learnt my lesson: You can be adventurous, but you can’t be stupid.<br /><br />Now ten months old, Ruhaan continues to push us. He teaches us new things everyday; he brings out the ability to do what we had always thought to be impossible. He makes us think.<br /><br />One of those thinking decisions this year was a change in profession. It was a tough call to make. After spending a decade in journalism, I moved over to the corporate sector. I don’t know if I like it. Two months is too short a time to come to a conclusion, but I do like the feeling that I have more time at home. Ruhaan has ensured his dad has a better work-life balance.<br /><br />Another thinking decision of the year was to sell off our house that had been our home for the last 14 years. It was my parents’ labour of love. It was the home where I spent my young adult life, it was the home where Medhavi and I were married and Ruhaan had his annaprashan. Every nook and corner of that home had a story. But it was time to move on. The memories will stay. The challenge of building another home welcomes us in 2012. <br /><br />2011 was also the year of loss; family, friends – some to death and some who just drifted away. <br /><br />2011 was also the year of welcoming the next generation. The baton will take some time to pass, but the hands that will take the baton have arrived. <br /><br />So long 2011. <br /><br />May the peace prevail and may the love last.The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-12487685485756033892011-06-13T12:23:00.001+05:302011-06-13T12:23:33.936+05:30She and He: movie talkShe: Badmaash company<br /><br />He: Shaitan now :-)<br /><br />She: Am scared<br /><br />He: Bheja fry mat ho. Ab bas Ready ho jaa<br /><br />She: Kyon? Zindagi na milegi dobara<br /><br />He: Nahin yaar bas yunhi...Life mein kabhi kabhi<br /><br />She: Bhag :-) dk bose<br /><br />He: You developing Delhi Belly?<br /><br />She: Ya. Too much shor in the city<br /><br />He: I thought it was Fast and Furious<br /><br />She: Ra One is stuck in stanley ka dabba<br /><br />He: Guess it's Haunted<br /><br />She: Ya the Heroine's the Ghost<br /><br />He: Soon enough it will be Rana to the recue<br /><br />She: By god that's Murder 2!<br /><br />He: At least it's not Mission Impossible<br /><br />She: No it' the talented mr ripley meeting the Bounty Hunter<br /><br />He: should be all fine if Mr Benjamin can keep the Buttons in place<br /><br />She: Could go on, But sleepy.<br /><br />He: Ya soon enuf it'll be Dial M for MurderThe Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-5888127311885120532011-04-28T16:38:00.002+05:302011-04-28T16:41:53.172+05:30Praan chahe - two renditionsThe first one by Punkaj Mullick sung about 50 years ago - what orchestration!<br /><br /><iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/WbX9geyVe8E" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />The second - a recent remix!<br /><br /><iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/iCWrieU1TZk" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-51790899926858972372010-08-28T19:47:00.001+05:302010-08-28T19:47:56.917+05:30She's sensual, not passionateNo she doesn't close her eyes<br />or moan and shout<br />the passionate woman is a blind woman<br /><br />A passionate woman grabs you<br />kisses you and bites you<br />hurries you and tries you<br /><br />And then done with the deed<br />will fall asleep.<br /><br />But the sensual one<br />she'll be unaroused and yet arouse you<br /><br />She's a woman of substance<br />feminine and abundant<br /><br />And for her the journey<br />far more intense than the destination<br /><br />Ask her for a kiss and she'll tell you take a walk<br />clearly she prefers the chase.The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-31320373173944983862010-08-28T19:12:00.000+05:302010-08-28T19:13:10.244+05:30I wish, I wish, I wish in vainHe said for all this talk about equality, <br />the only thing people really have in common<br />is that they are all going to die.<br /><br />You can see it in the eye how each one <br />is curious about what the weather looks like<br />But they'll never look out of the windows <br />or even take a walk outside.<br /><br />It's in the eyes<br />and it says 'I know something that you don't know'.<br /><br />Everybody's wearing a disguise<br />to hide what they've got left behind their eyes<br />But me, I can't cover what I am.<br /><br />I wish, I wish, I wish in vain<br />if it was easy to tell black from white<br />and our choices were few.<br /><br />The thought never hit,<br />this road we travel together would never shatter and split.<br /><br />I wish, I wish, I wish in vain<br />but the only thing people really have in common<br />is that they are all going to die.The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-63623021930525833592010-04-01T16:37:00.002+05:302010-04-01T16:38:48.980+05:30She and He: Line maroingShe: I see cricket has really got your attention today.<br /><br />He: Why do you say that?<br /><br />She: You've had no time to moon<br /><br />He: Missing the honey. What's my poison?<br /><br />She: Hunny<br /><br />He: Am winnie the pooh alright.<br /><br />She: :-) better look out for that middle<br /><br />He: But you still haven't completed the 'she says' bit of the may i kiss u 'he says' line.<br /><br />She: Line maroing is your job<br /><br />He: So will you play along? I promise to keep it simple and straight. No going around in circles.<br /><br />She: Play?<br /><br />He: We are but players and all we do is play our parts.<br /><br />She: Circles?<br /><br />He: Won't go round and round, keep it short and simple.<br /><br />She: It?<br /><br />He: It is written<br /><br />She: Much has been written and yet nothing... :-)<br /><br />He: There is a slip between the cup and the lipThe Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-24519840550935617682010-02-13T13:19:00.000+05:302010-02-13T13:20:11.541+05:30Royal Enfield - Truly a god in India<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wgqU8aMzZms&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wgqU8aMzZms&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-40947375510195189972009-10-18T11:12:00.001+05:302009-10-18T11:15:16.093+05:30Can a change in perceived value be just as satisfying as what we consider “real” value?<object width="446" height="326"><param name="movie" value="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><param name="bgColor" value="#ffffff"></param> <param name="flashvars" value="vu=http://video.ted.com/talks/dynamic/RorySutherland_2009G-medium.flv&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/RorySutherland-2009G.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=432&vh=240&ap=0&ti=658&introDuration=16500&adDuration=4000&postAdDuration=2000&adKeys=talk=rory_sutherland_life_lessons_from_an_ad_man;year=2009;theme=speaking_at_tedglobal2009;theme=media_that_matters;theme=unconventional_explanations;theme=what_makes_us_happy;theme=the_creative_spark;theme=new_on_ted_com;event=TEDGlobal+2009;&preAdTag=tconf.ted/embed;tile=1;sz=512x288;" /><embed src="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf" pluginspace="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" bgColor="#ffffff" width="446" height="326" allowFullScreen="true" flashvars="vu=http://video.ted.com/talks/dynamic/RorySutherland_2009G-medium.flv&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/RorySutherland-2009G.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=432&vh=240&ap=0&ti=658&introDuration=16500&adDuration=4000&postAdDuration=2000&adKeys=talk=rory_sutherland_life_lessons_from_an_ad_man;year=2009;theme=speaking_at_tedglobal2009;theme=media_that_matters;theme=unconventional_explanations;theme=what_makes_us_happy;theme=the_creative_spark;theme=new_on_ted_com;event=TEDGlobal+2009;"></embed></object>The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-74817737489066535742009-09-10T11:05:00.001+05:302009-09-10T11:05:53.580+05:30They chose to die like menDuring the epic battle of Mahabharata, when Abhimanyu broke into the 'Chakravyuha', Arjuna and Bheema were unable to save the gallant warrior.<br /><br />His audacious bravery, considered equal to his father, saw him hold at bay great heroes like Guru Dronacharya, Karna, Duryodhana and Dushasana before the Kauravas finally - ignoring all codes of war - attacked him simultaneously.<br /><br />He held his own until his sword broke and his chariot wheel which he used as a shield shattered into pieces. Dushasana's son then crushed his skull with a mace. Abhimanyu was just 16.<br /><br />Centuries later, Abhimanyu, Bheema and Arjuna came together to script a glorious victory for the Indian Army.<br /><br />June 1999. The Kargil War. The battle for Tololing. The battle cry: "Raja Ramchandra ki Jai".<br /><br />Abhimanyu, Bheema and Arjuna were the three teams each comprising 30 soldiers from the 2nd Rajputana Rifles - the seniormost rifle regiment in the country - who launched a final assault on Tololing top.<br /><br />For close to a month, infiltrators and Pakistan Army regulars had laid a siege atop Tololing, which was closest to National Highway NH 1A. From this vantage point, they brought in heavy artillery fire that brought the movement on the highway to a standstill.<br /><br />Three battalions from the Nagas, Garhwal and Grenadier Regiments tried to make their way from two sides but to no avail. It was a distressing sight to see men carrying bodies of their comrades.<br /><br />Some of them who had been stuck on the ridges for days in an attempt to retrieve the bodies were taunted and made to feel impotent.<br /><br />The death of senior officers finally jarred the senior echelons of the Indian army. The task was assigned to Rajputana Rifles and more firepower was moved in.<br /><br />On the designated day - close to midnight, Abhimanyu, Bheema and Arjuna attacked Tololing from three sides. They crawled their way up in the face of withering machine gun fire from the bunkers. Finally the troops closed in and hand to hand combat ensued.<br /><br />At 4:10 AM, the wireless crackled: Tololing was won.<br /><br />It turned out to be the turning point of the war.<br /><br />Then Defence Minister George Fernande's initial estimate of 48 hours to throw out the intruders had already become a cruel joke.<br /><br />From the time, Lt Saurabh Kalia and his comrades - who went missing on their patrols in early May 1999 till the last posts were cleared, the war had been on for close to six weeks.<br /><br />Numerous soldiers laid down their lives in the operation. Many were captured and tortured before being killed.<br /><br />But within this what was apalling to see was the element of surprise that faced the government and agencies responsible for overseeing national security. The proxy war in 1989, Mumbai blasts and the Kargil infiltration meant that India had repeatedly been caught off guard.<br /><br />The soldiers and officers of the Indian defence forces, especially the Army helped avoid the tag of a soft-state being applied to India, which would have meant a loss of respect among friends as well as adversaries.<br /><br />In a theatrical production, Abhimanyu's character was used to sum up man's existence. While he's alive, it's a dog's life - loathed and pelted from all sides.<br /><br />The army treads a thin line between hate and love and their life too is of one pelted from all sides - both political and civilian. But just as Abhimanyu chose to die like a man, the numerous soldiers have time and again chosen to live and die like men.The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-24057272049818568452009-08-19T13:18:00.003+05:302009-08-19T13:25:58.485+05:30Take of your clothes by Peter Sarstedt<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/juqsMRYwQUs&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/juqsMRYwQUs&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />Peter Sarstedt shot to prominence in February 1969 with a Number 1 hit single <i>Where do you go to, my lovely</i>. He held that position for six weeks in Britain, reached No.1 in 14 other countries, and was awarded the highly coveted Ivor Novello Award for Best Song 1969-70 for his composition.The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-40353438307431590742009-06-12T17:37:00.003+05:302009-06-12T17:39:47.732+05:30Wings...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqL3z2PK8Y-8GeqV2kNYx_eYrpvawGJhPf2bNFUhhWVBKG35P6wSx2J7-S2L460JXsUumcIS05Dl2RJXwcqzTU_BC_2GDEnpUSrRUID-t8ghYv4wccRoTfYncGrvoUye7BTYORNitz6p0/s1600-h/wings.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqL3z2PK8Y-8GeqV2kNYx_eYrpvawGJhPf2bNFUhhWVBKG35P6wSx2J7-S2L460JXsUumcIS05Dl2RJXwcqzTU_BC_2GDEnpUSrRUID-t8ghYv4wccRoTfYncGrvoUye7BTYORNitz6p0/s320/wings.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346411749691368914" /></a><br /><br />Tail fins of a surreal whale flying across the sun.The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-81385290412338660732009-05-29T15:19:00.001+05:302009-05-29T15:21:03.374+05:30'Trusted friends'He: What is the height of flirting?<br />She: You tell me.<br /><br />He: When a love letter starts with the line - 'To whomsoever it may concern'.<br />She: That is a literature student who won't go far.<br /><br />He: Life imitates art and vice versa<br />She: :-) and literature begins to borrow from 'trusted friends'The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-81025075843579989512009-04-26T20:19:00.005+05:302009-04-26T20:27:14.378+05:30Where's my Hobbes?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8YGtgwiVd4f3HDi79L82Vqrnvh6paBTzZXVKiqPuwEgzxnnehJDitjfDvdEmyDRir6i2Vabr6ldxkWmwvmlc-1sif3B19Uvq9XTpLyjAhjrhItnr-eHldNC3eZDsIMLgjJgq10lcVrk/s1600-h/DSCN3614.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8YGtgwiVd4f3HDi79L82Vqrnvh6paBTzZXVKiqPuwEgzxnnehJDitjfDvdEmyDRir6i2Vabr6ldxkWmwvmlc-1sif3B19Uvq9XTpLyjAhjrhItnr-eHldNC3eZDsIMLgjJgq10lcVrk/s320/DSCN3614.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329012946057639826" /></a><br /><br />Q: What do you do when you see a tiger?<br />A: Make sure the tiger does not see you.<br /><br />Q: What do you do when you don't see a tiger?<br />A: Pr(e)y he hasn't seen you.The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-12672614703304923672009-02-11T16:13:00.002+05:302009-02-11T16:17:58.111+05:30A face tells many stories<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1nBqronZDKiLV_mqGUfHzG_CpxlKeU9HMJONYHdaeNzWLY9kFAMbczyT292LXxIck3aBiwRriCplSrKBxLuSnC2KfkuAxBmo8DLAD0HoIZCB5lc1L-hUqxs2wM_OrFoLXaA76bw6tXg/s1600-h/DSCN3411.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1nBqronZDKiLV_mqGUfHzG_CpxlKeU9HMJONYHdaeNzWLY9kFAMbczyT292LXxIck3aBiwRriCplSrKBxLuSnC2KfkuAxBmo8DLAD0HoIZCB5lc1L-hUqxs2wM_OrFoLXaA76bw6tXg/s320/DSCN3411.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301489431821434130" /></a><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br /><br />At the <i>Bhagton Ki Haweli</i> in Nawalgarh, Shekhawati region of Rajasthan.The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-19310727207971181712009-01-30T15:40:00.000+05:302009-01-30T15:42:51.329+05:30Failure: The secret to success<object width="384" height="250"><param name="movie" value="http://dreams.honda.com/pod_embed.swf?vid=fa&sDomain=dreams.honda.com"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://dreams.honda.com/pod_embed.swf?vid=fa&sDomain=dreams.honda.com" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="384" height="250"></embed></object>The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-73740555856300895742008-12-19T11:08:00.002+05:302008-12-19T11:09:24.989+05:30Where do Bengalis learn how to fight?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUpNBQ6k8YPIV5lP858tupLXDnBRje4m2abOKcIWgDTWwHKzPdRdyNS0eEbU4NS373QSS3TX68uJiNBBTKEx45PzP0aA-JrThIC0pWP5nUPozwrR9MyCCA_BM1KD9sfle-VxLj-B0nEs/s1600-h/banglaboxing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMUpNBQ6k8YPIV5lP858tupLXDnBRje4m2abOKcIWgDTWwHKzPdRdyNS0eEbU4NS373QSS3TX68uJiNBBTKEx45PzP0aA-JrThIC0pWP5nUPozwrR9MyCCA_BM1KD9sfle-VxLj-B0nEs/s320/banglaboxing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281371609420867154" /></a>The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-40145472922909279992008-12-19T11:05:00.001+05:302008-12-19T11:08:04.106+05:30Reputation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9iPw7PF9xthmEecswbGpA9H63hYK556WBBt4GYXBJuiDoZ1YCGFSZ0vUF1yekPUy0sDIdX2KtiwdOpFdAbGwXRKHQgfMNe9xF0_YCpOAcrKq3EfB16UN9EW9tX4-hmHysA88u2D6bu8k/s1600-h/shadows.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9iPw7PF9xthmEecswbGpA9H63hYK556WBBt4GYXBJuiDoZ1YCGFSZ0vUF1yekPUy0sDIdX2KtiwdOpFdAbGwXRKHQgfMNe9xF0_YCpOAcrKq3EfB16UN9EW9tX4-hmHysA88u2D6bu8k/s320/shadows.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281370716031973410" /></a><br /><br />"One's reputation is like a shadow, it is gigantic when it precedes you, and a pygmy in proportion when it follows," says a wise man.The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-26741568980402546852008-10-31T13:50:00.001+05:302008-10-31T13:54:12.421+05:30On a tight leashA raging debate is on between reason and imagination. The mind has been contemplating relations, however produced. The mind adds colour to the thoughts as they are composed from elements, each containing within itself the principle of its own integrity. In the Utopian world there would have been a perfect synthesis of the two. But with the sheer number of external and internal impressions that are created in a person's head, it is difficult to balance both reason and imagination. The future is contained within the present - there is good reason to believe that. But it is up to imagination to visualise that future. Man with all his passions and his pleasures yearns to be the passion and the pleasure of the other. Imagination has no barriers but reason puts it on a leash.The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-69586274860748035892008-10-15T15:06:00.001+05:302008-10-15T15:09:04.945+05:30Fine dining<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1iJTKuoKbHgdTujmn0B9QM-U54uZ_EwdJKql46z15crHGa9uIV1CQFo7Evjb2DNXs3GWtBgCWVVfKWvXdVWB5vFgptX-Iv5vg1qhJcItbpdghSEfK-CbcdBNMEo-ZI57tFjJZGqsAfZ0/s1600-h/layingout.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1iJTKuoKbHgdTujmn0B9QM-U54uZ_EwdJKql46z15crHGa9uIV1CQFo7Evjb2DNXs3GWtBgCWVVfKWvXdVWB5vFgptX-Iv5vg1qhJcItbpdghSEfK-CbcdBNMEo-ZI57tFjJZGqsAfZ0/s320/layingout.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257312799196609970" /></a>The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-45294583047906987532008-10-14T14:28:00.001+05:302008-10-14T14:30:31.194+05:30Jewels<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTQONWldtVHtXT6i7mA3jT_FvLlmKeIUEqeX2_1cmcaoiWKOGP5TDb50d3ZeknF1jHKeVByen65DxT4Z-ylJW9qPzIKYvl6DAGVxbWfqr6nQkENoYuP35zvuJfUA1opryztbus9XkYTF4/s1600-h/DSCN2931.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTQONWldtVHtXT6i7mA3jT_FvLlmKeIUEqeX2_1cmcaoiWKOGP5TDb50d3ZeknF1jHKeVByen65DxT4Z-ylJW9qPzIKYvl6DAGVxbWfqr6nQkENoYuP35zvuJfUA1opryztbus9XkYTF4/s320/DSCN2931.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256931778208359074" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdvL_xD_rwtiCCsQbC5uC3L4xDXHBTGPOoPjUVsmB2rPJreVpC2m0Yeas3hlswZCJCPsqwT1kwI5baBZBt1IbhXPF3_CbtBV5guXdc7H2_bh2S6JEn3YvBjo8cprTh5u5mTAux0hOtbs/s1600-h/DSCN2950.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdvL_xD_rwtiCCsQbC5uC3L4xDXHBTGPOoPjUVsmB2rPJreVpC2m0Yeas3hlswZCJCPsqwT1kwI5baBZBt1IbhXPF3_CbtBV5guXdc7H2_bh2S6JEn3YvBjo8cprTh5u5mTAux0hOtbs/s320/DSCN2950.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256931779487530658" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrsegrbBFvx463D_MYhwVrIAoP5hldd94pTdl8AHC4L7VAieKasFPZtEM5pC2RDv0_uPXtXB_gcro6wb4npeOfgHA-hKaqwVVYa-XO9uI1EqjleOKe0mhBThsLhZIJlSgxSexmbpV1un4/s1600-h/DSCN2955.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrsegrbBFvx463D_MYhwVrIAoP5hldd94pTdl8AHC4L7VAieKasFPZtEM5pC2RDv0_uPXtXB_gcro6wb4npeOfgHA-hKaqwVVYa-XO9uI1EqjleOKe0mhBThsLhZIJlSgxSexmbpV1un4/s320/DSCN2955.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256931780606779442" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT4CUufLtZxkGV428p1zDc7ZJ7m3C93gkeqWVciV508IycbPNumuzFyY6Tf8CAsrJuCarVRqTZemeFQOUlOTz4L6V2J1k2arcpKZDGfXgmTJvo94XTY04tnjJIXWAem5ZsEc-h9gWL4N8/s1600-h/DSCN2956.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT4CUufLtZxkGV428p1zDc7ZJ7m3C93gkeqWVciV508IycbPNumuzFyY6Tf8CAsrJuCarVRqTZemeFQOUlOTz4L6V2J1k2arcpKZDGfXgmTJvo94XTY04tnjJIXWAem5ZsEc-h9gWL4N8/s320/DSCN2956.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256931782611304402" /></a>The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1073493934758015763.post-36602314905711983832008-09-24T09:40:00.002+05:302008-09-24T09:44:49.895+05:30In Her Majesty’s ServiceDurga Puja is an occasion when the familiar sound of <span style="font-style:italic;">dhaak, dhunuchi nachh</span> and the mild fragrance of <span style="font-style:italic;">shiuli</span>, gives a familiar tug at every Bengali heart. But that's not all about it. The four-day festival brings the unique opportunity to reconnect with friends who congregate every year without fail and always seem to take off from where they left off in the previous year.<br /><br />These are the friends who didn't go to school with you, were not your neighbours, were not the guys in the park where you played and definitely not the ones who you emailed or called or scrapped. You didn't know what they did the entire year and neither did they bother, but come Durga Puja and the <span style="font-style:italic;">'hoi-hottogol and haanshi-thatta'</span> that emerged from this group of 'puja friends' was always the loudest. Or so they believed and continue to till today!<br /><br />Bengalis can never be separated from sport and every Durga Puja did not start with <span style="font-style:italic;">Mahalaya</span>, but sports day that featured events like flat race, lemon and spoon race, throwing the discus etc. And this is where on a balmy Sunday morning, the 'puja friends' would suddenly emerge from different directions. Somebody had grown taller, some broader, but the camaraderie was still the same.<br /><br />And then from <span style="font-style:italic;">Saptami</span> morning right through <span style="font-style:italic;">Bijoya sammelani</span>, this group of friends hung out together. It still amazes me when I think how this group automatically fell in line for bhog poribeshon, how they knew when the other had to take over at the dhunuchi naach, what exactly was needed to be said to each other's parents so that they would allow them to go puja hopping together and how at <span style="font-style:italic;">bisarjan</span> they combined vision and strength for a fitting farewell to Ma Durga.<br /><br />These friends grew up, went to college, picked up jobs, some travelled, some settled down and slowly went their own ways. Some went on to do bigger things like find finances for a Durga Puja somewhere, direct a play in another, and some even started pujas in places where there were none.<br /><br />And then they had children and life came a full circle. The new generation of 'puja friends' arrived - like the elves who help Santa every year; except these were in the service of Ma Durga. <br /><br />Every year a few get added to this list, a few get subtracted. But you'll never find a year when there are none. And that's my fondest memory of Durga Puja. You too can meet these elves. Sometimes you have to close your eyes, sometimes you have to open them. Sometimes you have to look around, sometimes you have to look within. What a miracle!The Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14032583885724123465noreply@blogger.com3