<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682</id><updated>2012-02-16T16:23:02.953+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Zeitgeist's Dump</title><subtitle type='html'>keep thinking.. and keep searching...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-6042477240734097195</id><published>2009-07-18T10:50:00.009+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-18T15:30:49.366+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Institutionalization of corruption</title><content type='html'>Its been a long overdue.  There had been umpteen occasions where almost published a post. I had motivated myself many times and had been persuaded even more number of times but the lazy bones in me didn't dangle. Anyways, there is enough reason for me  to write this. Recently, I have taken courage to leave the comfort zone of lucrative fixed salary and start my own business. I probably would have written similar lines on this topic but after after seeing it first hand, I felt compelled to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dream had always been to create, to construct and to leave. Natural choice would always have resulted in me being a builder but I never thought it was possible without a lot of investment but then I came across public infrastructure. As I crawled my way to find an entry towards securing projects, I was led into the web of Indian corruption and its most modern avtar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most promising economic region in India for logistical and economic reasons is NCR (National Capital region) and within it the Eastern belt (Noida- Greater Noida- Gaziabad region) because of the free develop able land availability, its proximity to Delhi, the most ambitious &lt;a href="http://www.greaternoidaauthority.in/mplan2021"&gt;master plans&lt;/a&gt; and a zillion more reasons but the serpent of corruption led and completely fuelled by the erstwhile government has resulted the potential growth of 20-30% for the region multiple times below.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a way everything is supposed to work -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. There are plans and masterplans drawn at central and State level helped by commissions, consultants, ministries and pvt. companies like E&amp;amp;Y, McKinsey, etc.&lt;br /&gt;2. Budget is allocated and plans approved and capital is sanctioned to the departments which should get it constitutionally&lt;br /&gt;3. Tender notice declares project (s) plan from respective departments and asks for bids which pass the qualification criterion&lt;br /&gt;4. Bids are submitted and results declared and tenders awarded in generally 2 days of submission&lt;br /&gt;5. Financial, technical and experiential criterions have to met to secure tenders&lt;br /&gt;6. Constant monitoring of projects under the authorities which awarded work and quality check as per a separate department such as RITES for civil construction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now these steps are followed diligently but I will tell how everything actually happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Bribes are given by huge corporates such as Adani, Reliance, Gammon, L&amp;amp;T and HCC which churn out reports through world famous consultants and high level bribes determine the budget. Interestingly, big players like reliance, etc run the mutka market and regulate betting even for budget results which they already know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Now the department can earn illegal money only if it gets the project. The only way to get projects (at least in UP) is to pay bribe to state ministry. The highest bribe gets the projects. Interestingly, these projects are productized and sold through proper sales and marketing at the highest level. The Central Government pays for the high level debt through fiscal deficit to fund these projects. The morons at the center dont care a dime about where this money goes and on top of it are not even printing dough to supply the crunch. Anyways....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. It is not necessary that project even exists for the listed tender, for example sector road for Sector Omega, Greater Noida was already built by favored contractor when the Tender was noticed. Tenders are supposed to be available online, but they are sold at a commision of 8.5% in Greater Noida authority, 5% in Police nigam and so on. The total of procuring a tender hovers around 20-25% of total project cost which should have been 6% (security and earnest deposit) but that also ensures that you also get the project with rest of the tenders either being bogus. In fact, the number of tenders printed are only as much as the companies available with predecided awardee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Lion's share of this portion goes to behenji with rest being distributed systematically amongst the involved parties. Let us take a case of UPSIDC. Right from allocation to registry to transfer to mining clearance, everything has a fixed cost per meter square. Now this sum goes to Lucknow and is distributed accordingly through bank account transactions. Cut ot the Government projects, a govt. supervisor is appointed to the site to take care of quality, etc. In fact he gets salary from the contractor (typically 3K pm) and any material is allowed resulting in Metro like collapses. Now one can imagine what the actual size of the project should have been when after all of this, when completed on schedule, the margins are upwardly of 10% on project cost or around 50% of investment. Not bad for any business in the world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For all of the reasons I have mentioned and many more, the costs of all private developments are so high that even the high strategic value of investments do not compensate for the high loses due to corruption. In turn, many big shots such as Wipro, Unitech, Omaxe, HP, Honda and many more have shut their shops in the region. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No one wants it. Not even the adhikaarees and babus in any of the departments because a reduction in commercial investments result in lowering of personal commissions and there a lot of added tension as there are bound to be many enquires when Mayawati leaves the place and the dust settles. Hopefully sooner then later&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-6042477240734097195?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6042477240734097195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=6042477240734097195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/6042477240734097195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/6042477240734097195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2009/07/institutionalization-of-corruption.html' title='Institutionalization of corruption'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-6037492652083527395</id><published>2008-03-20T13:26:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-20T21:27:23.693+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Just another brick in the wall.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I was arguing with someone the other day, what makes education special for him. Is it learning, friends,  a way  to social security, what? He gave a very good answer and I could not reply after that. He said - Teachers. For me, teachers has always been essentially a group which forces their curriculum and knowledge on you. Many a times in a way they have stored it themselves. I for one has always believed in practical knowledge. Going out on streets and asking those who know rather than someone who wrote someone else's account and a third party trying  to make some sense out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I loved the old Aryan system. The division of human life into 4 segments and gurukul education being a very important integral part of human growth both in terms of spirit and knowledge. Time and again, one learns about the whispers about progressive schooling which essentially means giving freedom of thoughts and action to children beyond books and rules and campus. Studies say that such methods have been much more successful and skill orienting than regularly used British methodology. Many after Lord McCaulay introduced English Education to create babus for English offices, we still hold on to dilapidated structure learning Hinglish as we grow. Hardly does anyone has the idea, that the only image created by this is lack of understanding of any of the two languages of which many like me are the victims.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;80 years after Gandhi's emphasis on vocational training and skill based knowledge sourcing, we still look down upon Vocational colleges and stand at the bottom with 1 trade school of repute while China has in access of 4000. Having graduated from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; trade school&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;I felt cheated  because we were never taught about  shipping, logistics management and port handling. At least never given any practical assignment so that we might learn. No field trips. No videos even. At best some ship photographs. All we are taught throughout our lives is to pass with flying though no one explains why. Even the Social Awareness Program, an NGO attachment is a farce. We are associated to an NGO for 2 weeks and are asked again to make a report. The idea is to improve the college brochure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe the idea of education in India is marketing  and as an offshoot may be  learning for a few geeks.  Few days back, i met someone who started a tourism and hotel management course in Agra. His business plan aimed 120 students in 2 years and he ended up with 1600 after two years. That too when the course if of 3 years and the first batch never got placed. Now more than half of his spend is on marketing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider a normal course of Indian education. A child grows. Goes to school. Read books. Only other source of education. Questions to people he meet. Taking an average, 1-2 social outings in school per year for him. Come 9th and he has to prepare for college. Two options if ain't in a metro. Doctor/ Engineer? Next 4-5 years are dedicated in getting a college. Next 4 is questioning why. You get out with a job you never deserve and cry about your bad luck. Then either people try to go abroad or go for higher education. Either way the same story continues and in another two or so parents get you married. Most of us are virgins till marriage for heavens sake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for the humor. Could not help it. Be it the gurukal system, progressive schooling or even the oldest democratic method of teaching created by Plato where he suggested different layers of education both in terms of period and skills imparted produced different categories of workers. From labors to clerks to engineers to doctors with believe me politicians and ideologists coming at the very last after 50 years of age; we need a change. Not just another brick in the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all i believe there is a deep rooted flaw in education system. It creates too many people with too many degrees for white collar jobs when there are no&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-6037492652083527395?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6037492652083527395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=6037492652083527395' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/6037492652083527395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/6037492652083527395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2008/03/just-another-brick-in-wall.html' title='Just another brick in the wall.'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-4966714417810078995</id><published>2008-03-19T23:05:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-20T00:21:55.890+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Countries and namesakes</title><content type='html'>The best memories of Vaishno Devi trip apart from the world class &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Charas &lt;/span&gt;I has to be the wonderful time spent in the van. We were 11 guys traveling and hence we tool 2 vans. The first van had 6 guys  and  all  the  cameras. The second  van had  5 people. It was a  perfect division  between brash, rude guys and uptight resourceful guys. Everything thing fitted in perfectly and we called it a natural division of first and third world countries. Great per capita GDP barrier even if we account for PPP. They had all the cameras and tickets and money and the trip plan. The stage was set and battle swords drawn. The objective of third world was to exploit resources without giving much leeway to the developed world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Battle plan being ready, the next thing was clarity on individual positions. I being  the  poorest of us all naturally became Somalia. No conflict in this. I guess I lived up to my expectations by asking camera from one and all and getting a kick at the butt at all times. Next in line was Morya. Reason: come on man! look at his face once. Third was Sanjay Jain. His unwanted deep insight on many things and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;data;  &lt;/span&gt;specially with trade in it helped us suggest his name. Also his dear love for Olam and he was named Nigeria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two guys remaining in the van. Both at the opposite ends of adrenaline rush. Gaurav Gaud would have easily accepted any name and would have taken it personally but Mongolia fitted in like a mold. The large wasteful size of both, extreme lack of useful intellect (Mongolia has 20 horses for 1 man)&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;and the fact that Mongolia is known for its &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ghodas &lt;/span&gt;and the choice was final. The last remaining Akshay. Unfortunately he was wearing a Sri Lanka Coka Cola jacket and you guessed it. As always SL is an unfortunate addition to the third world and so in some ways semi refined Akshay in this group.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To talk about the other van. The first one, Dahuja with all the planning and strategic financial backup like trusted Swiss banks was named Switzerland. Next Hari, for unmentionable and very obvious reasons was deemed England. The third proud camera owner with Stuttgart belt was HS code-12 and we called Handa Stuttgart rather than calling him Germany. Sony trying to belong to the group by forming alliances (NAFTA like) was a pseudo third world member and was aptly named Mexico. Next was someone about whom no one knew or wanted to know. Just that for some odd reason all knew the name of this little country. In short, both Togo and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;apne Golu bhaiya &lt;/span&gt;knew how to occupy the center stage. The last guy remained and i wont comment- crisis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our van driver was playing fast bollywood numbers and we were dancing and humming all the way. Fun, pun and sarcasm, we all enjoyed every bit of it and thanks to countries and namesakes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-4966714417810078995?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/4966714417810078995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=4966714417810078995' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/4966714417810078995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/4966714417810078995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2008/03/countries-and-namesakes.html' title='Countries and namesakes'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-1008573300695762066</id><published>2008-03-19T18:34:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-19T20:37:38.274+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The good natured Kashmiris</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;On visiting the Valley of Kashmir, Jehangir, one of the Mughal emperors, is said to have exclaimed: "If there is paradise anywhere on earth, it is here, it is here, it is here." I guess when he said this not only meant the valleys and lakes and mountains but also the good nature of native Kashmiris. If the Atithi Satkaar culture is remaining in India, it  is here in  Kashmir. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our Hotel attendant told us that if stuck approach any house, they will help  you, give food , bed and  provide for  bath and will also inform us.  This  was so true.  During  out visit  to the interiors of Kashmir, we once ran out of  engine oil. We came to a  marketplace. There was a group standing nearby , one of them went to house and asked for some guy to open his shop. That guy opened his shop. Fixed the bike. Gave us tea and offered us to stay overnight and leave next morning after bathing. It don't matter what problem you have, Kashmiris will always be ready with a solution and an almost customary &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"ismein kya hai?" &lt;/span&gt;in the end. It would also be very difficult to forget our attendant Yakoob who helped us utmost to get the camera, bike, giving directions, free food and what all not? This is the only tourist place where all want the tourist to have time of his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would not be an exaggeration  to say that that Kashmiris are arguably the most beautiful tribe alive. It was very difficult to find a girl you would not be attracted to. Almost a third had supermodel faces. So were the men. All tall, fair and handsome. More importantly, there was much more equality between the two genders as compared to rest of North India. All schools and coleges were co-ed. There was no special seating for women in public buses. Although there seemed to be an unwritten code which said women should not talk to men and different sexes formed different chat groups but women never cringed at male presence, anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A typical Kashmiri village comes to my mind. Almost everyone would be out there on street, walking criss cross and chatting idly. No fear. No care. One friend described it best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Kashmiri kumata 120 hai. Karch 140 karta hai. Must rehta hai. Ismein kya hai?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We believed this carefree, guilt free nature and everyday cheerfulness is a result of their home being paradise. After all what else could one need. great people. Great environment. Zero pollution. I wish 1989 never happened in Kashmir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People are so helpful that sometimes it might even freak you out. Always ready for a small tal, specially if one mentions Delhi. I remember our cab driver even wanting to have his honey moon in Delhi. If you ask directions, they will walk with you till the street you have to take turn so that you would not get lost. All in all a wonderful experience amidst incessant teas, hukkas, bollywood numbers and cricket.&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/24400682-1008573300695762066?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/1008573300695762066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=1008573300695762066' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/1008573300695762066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/1008573300695762066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2008/03/on-visiting-valley-of-kashmir-jehangir.html' title='The good natured Kashmiris'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-5985392546985078118</id><published>2008-03-18T16:14:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-18T16:46:57.885+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Bollywood and cricket and Kashmir</title><content type='html'>Few days back, I went on a bike trip with one of my good friends. We went to Kashmir. It was an awesome experience. Something which cannot be explained properly in words. None of us had seen snow before and now we were on the National Highways which were blocked due to ice slates all over them. We both agreed that it would be very hard to explain in words what we felt on seeing the road melt away into a huge wall of ice-capped mountains on three sides even as we are driving on level roads. Sea green river and a small lake on one side and a mountain village on the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But even though the terrain was vastly different. The originality, integrity and ownership of mother country in question; I felt there were two very evident things which held the nation together. No doubt trade brings in money and relations and no bigger proponent of cultural integrity than popular bollywood numbers. I remembered the day when I met a French girl in Agra and she complained about loud music everywhere but in Kashmir, I felt proud. There is something common which Gandhi and Nehru saw during their pan India tour which still binds the nation together. The use of Hindi and Bambaiya words everywhere, even in the inner most parts of rural Kashmir was truly amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even cricket, there might be little in terms of business and trade but talking about indulgence of cricket and reverence of Indian heroes, there guys are no short of any other region of India. Even at the height of 5000 metres, people made wickets of ice and were playing cricket. There was an avalanche there yesterday. No one cares. Cricket comes first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long Live India!! Long Live Cricket!! Long Live Bollywood!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-5985392546985078118?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5985392546985078118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=5985392546985078118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/5985392546985078118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/5985392546985078118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2008/03/bollywood-and-cricket-and-kashmir.html' title='Bollywood and cricket and Kashmir'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-1617939878685706721</id><published>2008-03-18T13:54:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-19T21:13:27.504+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sunny side up !!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The best way to reflect on a place is probably to recall the moments still lodged in memory. I might not be the best person to say anything about IIFT because I didn't mingle with a lot of people but still being a part of it, I just wanted to blog down what the things that I carry along with me. I guess besides bitching around, guys have generally been talking about their insecurity. Even me. I don't count myself out. The general discussion revolved around how we are at par or may be better than most colleges and how we still are underpaid on recruitment front. Well, probably we are better off than most colleges but I guess, college education don't provide you any tool for doing business. If I had been an HR, i would rather go to an engineering college or other grad school, at least there would be less to unlearn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most knowledgeable person i found, did his MBA from some shit college in Agra. I joined a BPO for 1 day. There I found many much better and grounded on praactical knowledge than regular b-school shit. The guys whom I thought had more practical knowledge and experience, direct or indirect didn't end up with best of jobs. I believe management education should be banned for people having less than 2 years of experience. That includes even me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second thing which I will always remember is the discussion revolving around who is hooked up with whom. Who stands where and all that. I always felt uncomfortable discussing people who don't concern me but I did to satisfy unattended itches of quiet a few.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else... I can never forget Bhola and it's contribution. This is one of the biggest gifts I got from IIFT. The night you get &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bholaaed, &lt;/span&gt;you understand more about life. Five guys &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bholaaed &lt;/span&gt;and a movie in PVR was an unforgetful experience. So was the one when i formulated the bubble theory or when we wanted to go from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;big banana&lt;/span&gt; to saket and ended up half way to gurgaon. I will also remember numerous sessions of random dance and booze and leg pulling and insane futile over next to nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part though should be the IIFT parties, uncountable of those. I dont think I missed any except the last one where I passed out because I was too tired. Searching for booze like junkies. Standing at the bar table and dancing to anything which has beats in it. Lying helplessly on floor with many other and listening to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;senti &lt;/span&gt;songs.  Also I can never forget the million times, I would have taken my car at night with six people in it and we went any to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ber sarai &lt;/span&gt;or anywhere to fetch food. Theovernight drives to both Agra and Jaipur were also awesome where I drove all night singing and dancing. No one slept. Everything was just awesome. Great memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I keep writing, many more things are coming to my mind. Thankfully all good. The hundreds of movies that I would have watched. Many with Arka and debating over small things. The rise and fall of Socrates. A personal adventure ride for me and great company to help me put up anything of substance. In fact I was the support, the main actors were Shirsha and Ravi Teja.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There could not have been a better gift than a trip to Jim Corbett and than to Kashmir. Both were wonderful and I guess almost all that took part in it, enjoyed. Thanks for memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bbye forever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-1617939878685706721?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/1617939878685706721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=1617939878685706721' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/1617939878685706721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/1617939878685706721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2008/03/memories.html' title='Sunny side up !!!'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-7000161222709299603</id><published>2008-03-18T13:17:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-18T13:18:58.157+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Wake up - Years of pain</title><content type='html'>&lt;script type="text/javascript"&gt;&lt;!-- google_ad_client = "pub-0919305250342516"; google_ad_width = 336; google_ad_height = 280; google_ad_format = "336x280_as"; google_ad_channel =""; google_color_border = "FFFFFF"; google_color_bg = "FFFFFF"; google_color_link = "0000FF"; google_color_url = "008000"; google_color_text = "000000"; google_hints = "Mad Season music"; //--&gt;&lt;/script&gt;Wake up young man, it's time to wake up&lt;br /&gt;Your love affair has got to go&lt;br /&gt;For 10 long years, for 10 long years&lt;br /&gt;The leaves to rake up&lt;br /&gt;Slow suicide's no way to go, oh&lt;br /&gt;Blue, clouded grey&lt;br /&gt;You're not a crack up&lt;br /&gt;Dizzy and weakened by the haze&lt;br /&gt;Moving onward&lt;br /&gt;So an infection not a phase&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cracks and lines from where you gave up&lt;br /&gt;They make an easy man to read, oh&lt;br /&gt;For all the times you let them bleed you&lt;br /&gt;For little peace from God you plead, and beg&lt;br /&gt;For little peace from God you plead&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake up young man, it's time to wake up&lt;br /&gt;Your love affair has got to go, yeah&lt;br /&gt;For 10 long years, for 10 long years,&lt;br /&gt;The leaves to rake up&lt;br /&gt;Slow suicide's no way to go, oh&lt;br /&gt;Slow suicide's no way to go&lt;br /&gt;Wake up, wake up, wake up&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-7000161222709299603?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7000161222709299603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=7000161222709299603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/7000161222709299603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/7000161222709299603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2008/03/wake-up-years-of-pain.html' title='Wake up - Years of pain'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-900576594070985609</id><published>2008-03-17T13:37:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-18T13:50:24.620+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Bum Bum Bhole !!!</title><content type='html'>Yesterday i had the chance of visiting TEARS annual celebration.  Now TEARS is a educational and training institute for mentally challenged people. Although it is not an NGO by definition because it takes money from parents but the work they do is nothing short of social service. The age of children engaged ranges from 2 to 22. I call them children coz they will always remain so at mind at heart. In this annual function, all children no matter how severely disabled they were (mental or physical)  had to perform something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What touched me the most during the whole function was a small dance presented by a group of about 20 odd children who were still learning to form alphabets by joining dots. The children here are as much as 20 years in age but it was great pain to even make them stand together on the stage for 5 minutes of bollywood music. The music chosen are very apt - "Bum Bum bhole !!!" from TZP, definitely one of the best movies i have seen in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being the observer I am, I started looking closely at the children. There were different categories. There was this group which was purely amazed, seeing all these blinding lights flicker in oblivion, the multitude of people in the background, the loud noise of music and strange movements of fellow students. It was pure magic to see such innocence of twinkling eyes telling their story of being alienated. Their teachers would come intermittently  to move their  limbs but hardly could they  understand anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there this small child of about 6-7 years  constantly staring and  blinking lights placed  almost on the stage.   Probably he was trying to make out how such a thing  was even possible. Experience would have told him that his best friend is he himself, hence as always he was asking questions to himself, biting nails. Then there was this group of students directly behind him who were trying to give their best shot by displaying all movements they could. I recalled my first time of being on stage when I hardly remembered my lines in the play still conjectured something. These were all but normal just trying to make a point of existence. My eyes welled. I pride myself of being macho and someone who is not very emotional but my eyes welled. i checked around. I was not the only one. The lyrics were perfect too. All filled with romanticism and imagination. Thank you Amir Khan. Thank you TEARS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-900576594070985609?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/900576594070985609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=900576594070985609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/900576594070985609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/900576594070985609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2008/03/bum-bum-bhole.html' title='Bum Bum Bhole !!!'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-5145349194500500273</id><published>2008-02-25T02:52:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-25T04:12:33.659+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Bus Journey</title><content type='html'>I just love observing people. Especially those to whom I am not connected. Probably this is the reason why I love using public transport with many people. Most of the guys laught when I tell them that I love Mumbai locals. I don't blame them. I guess it is not a normal thinking but I can't help it. I immensely enjoy guessing lives; even if I am wrong. Most of the times, I just observe. Couple of days back I travelled by bus. I enjoyed the 40 minutes ride like anything. I am trying to write what I saw and thought then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually I was coming frm railway station to the college. I took the bus somewhere close to the the railway station, Fortunately, I got a seat. The best part was that I was sitting at a place from where I could see most people.  There were about 7-8 people standing as well. The guy closest to me standing somehow reminded me of myself. The way his eyes moved it was easy to predict that he was day dreaming. He had a small bag in his hand which had some detergent company name on it. Some name I have not heard before. He bore a confident look on his face. Something which comes with experience of having dealt with many people professionally and successfully at that. He was wearing formal clothing. Not expensive but smart and ironed. He was not looking at anyone. Busy in himself probably preparing for a meeting mentally. I concluded he should be salesman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just infront of him was a small stout guy, a complete contradiction of the tall, lean guy I mentioned before. This man had a very submissive look on his face, so much so that he had an expression of requesting invisibility. He felt satisfied by the fact that no one cared about him. So much so that I thought he wanted to blur in the background. Now this guy was also dressed formally but his shirt was somewhat crumpled. He was empty handed and it looked as if someone  had just scolded him. Probably his boss or so i guessed. At this point, our eyes met and it seemed that he became nervously conscious of his existence and after every few minutes he was staring at me from the corner of his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just then, a stop came and few people boarded the bus at that stop. For obvious reasons, I remember the two girls who came in. Thanks to the great nation and unnatural preference to women, 1 of them sat and I could not even see her face properly. The other girl was in a red top and jeans. I am not sure about the color perceptiona and behavior patterns but somehow girls in red have always been more attractive for me. She was a good looking girl. Fortunately, as I was hoping she did not find a place to sit and in a minute or so our eyes met. This is classic flirting, Indian style. Both of us passed smile. We were stealing eyes intermittently.I actually forgot what I was doing. In another minute or so I felt bored and started looking outside. Now "Lambi Judaai" started on the radio. I love this song and started humming the tune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a Negro outside. He  stepped in. Now this guy was definitely behaving differently. I might have been biased but it definitely seemed to me that he didn't feel connected. In fact it he had a I don't give damn kinda attitute on his face. He was completely preoccupied, for the entire journey. It felt that he was disconnected to the proceedings, surroundings and although he was  dressed very casually. You might assume that he came staright from his bed but it felt like he didn't care what was around him and in any case he was there just for a little time. Not only in the bus but also in this geography. In any case, he got off  after two stops. Now I started staring outside. Mostly observing houses. I don't remember the name but it was posh colony. Great exteriors, construction and posh cars. Though most houses had make shift arrangements. Sometimes on the roof tops, sometimes balcony but in almost all houses that I saw there was that ubiquitous expression of Indianess. There was some &lt;em&gt;jugaad&lt;/em&gt; which reminded me of oneness in sme odd way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shifetd my focus again inside the bus. Two house-wives stepped. Friends probably or so they would have claimed if you ask them but apparently both were trying to outdo each in the way they dressed. They were not great looking wore excessive lipstick and I guess some powder or something on face. In fact if you ask me, this futile effort make them look ugly. They were constantly chatting. They both grabbed the opportunity of sitting which they got pretty anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were few more interesting people. It is really amazing to acknowledge the the fact that no matter how important we think we are, there is so much more beyond one's own self. It is amazing that no matter how complicated we think we are, almost all have similar complex and yet very different lives. How much there is to learn. I was pre-occupied with these thoughts and then I saw one  who was actually lookng at me. Observing. I thought that he was trying to analyze me. He was a young guy and jeans and white t-shirt. Probably a college guy. Graduation mostly. He seemed to be having the confidence of a smart guy who knew his ways. Someone who had learnt a lot from life or so he would like to proclaim to the extent of being boastful about it. Then there was this blank guy. Exactly the kind of people I am really jealous of. They never think. They are so happy with the present that future never worries them. This gets to you. Infact I would to steal their secret, use on myself and become carefree for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my stop was very close. I was mentally preparing to get down but dunno why the bus was taking ages to move from the current stop. There was a young girl waiting at the stop. Not great looking but defintely she tried hard to look good. And it showed. Hair combed carefully and tied to give them some style. Cheap but stylish clothes. Matching lipstick. I think she felt good and comfortable about her looks. She somehow reminded me of  Call center people. These guys don't earn a helluva lot but they sure know how to spend. In fact she wore a proud look. Not bad pride but I guess a good one. At least for me. Something  like you get when you do a job well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just preoccupied. In fact I didn't even understand what I was thinking. All I could remember is cool wind blowing on my face and I was loving it waiting on the footboard for my step. Another 2 minutes or so My stop came and I got down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-5145349194500500273?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5145349194500500273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=5145349194500500273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/5145349194500500273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/5145349194500500273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2008/02/bus-journey.html' title='The Bus Journey'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-6760812385549115576</id><published>2008-02-22T20:35:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-22T22:58:48.022+05:30</updated><title type='text'>To the biggest fears of life...</title><content type='html'>Well this is the first time I am writing something inspired by a movie. I am not the kind who writes on how others fared on something they created. I am of the school which believes that movies/ songs/ paintings/ nature are all but art at some level. Each in silo has different meaning for an individual. The reason why one likes any of the above when he sees/ listens/ feels one of the above is that at some point he or she could relate to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have just finished watching &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Juno. &lt;/span&gt;There are many reasons why I am writing this. Personally I didn't like the movie a helluva lot but I still enjoyed it coz I could really relate to the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mark Loring &lt;/span&gt;character played  by &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jason Bateman&lt;/span&gt;.  The movie is about  teenage pregnancy and a wilful adoption. The movie circles around the most popular nouveau genre &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dark humor &lt;/span&gt;but in the latter part lumbers into new found romanticism where everything falls into place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rather than hinting at the story I would like it to hit at things to which i related. Few days back, we guys had a small trip to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jim Corbett. &lt;/span&gt;We played a stupid game wherein we asked random questions  to random people and truths should come out. Guess it is called &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Truth and dare&lt;/span&gt; or something. Anyways someone asked the question about the biggest fear in life to me.  I answered  being in a relationship because I think I am not capable of being just to the requirements of a successful relation. This is partially because of the past experience and partly because of the fact that no matter how good I think I am at character assassination and reading people; I still know nothing about half the humanity- women. But coming back to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Juno, &lt;/span&gt;I have another fear and that has to do something about having babies of my own. Probably I have it because of ill-fated childhood and troubled history of my brother but somehow there is this thing in my mind where I have always pictured myself adopting children never making them. This is where I relate to the movie and to the character having sexual insecurity of adopting children and rushing into situations where finally he has cold feet. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Juno &lt;/span&gt;is just the catalyst but in reality, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mark&lt;/span&gt; would have quit anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a few other things I could relate to with the character, for starters the mid-life career crisis where the guy is doing a job related to his area of interest where he is supposed to happy but is not quiet there and though he knows he ain't good enough, he still has sown the seeds of quitting. Another thing is the relation of Juno and Mark; nothing sexual in intent, just a thing where 2 people can connect and discuss something common at length. Something I share with very few friends of mine where we debate for hours. Another scene where Vanessa is choosing color of wall for the baby and all the guy could think of is food. Very real. :)..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it was a decent movie but  overhyped. I guess this is a real problem affecting a lot many in US hence so many like it so much. I would personally give it 7/10 though the songs were great and very intelligent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-6760812385549115576?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6760812385549115576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=6760812385549115576' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/6760812385549115576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/6760812385549115576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2008/02/to-biggest-fears-of-life.html' title='To the biggest fears of life...'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-4340754535764347712</id><published>2008-01-28T16:43:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-01-29T12:04:11.393+05:30</updated><title type='text'>North versus South</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Few weeks back I was in Coimbatore. The reason for my visit was not very pleasurable but none the less I always look forward to such escapes. A few days off in south in always pleasurable if one has the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;right &lt;/span&gt;kind of mindset. I have have had the great luxury of being born in North and having done my graduation in South and hence since I started observing the world, i couldn't help  myself compare the sheer magnitude of difference yet in some obscure way the similarities of the two worlds as they have grown over the years - separately yet united by land .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As luck would have it, in every few years though mostly for medical reasons I had been visiting either Kerela or Tamil Nadu. This December I underwent another surgery, probably my  last to get rid of the weakness in my left arm in Coimbatore. I was put up in a Hotel named &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vijai Paradise &lt;/span&gt;near the&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;hospital&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;I decided to take a walk at about 11 in the night. I generally don't smoke but it aint a long time since I was high last (those who are close to me know nothing gives me a high like fag). I bought 2 Kings and lit one up. I decided to walk around the residential colony. The name was Sai Baba colony. It really is amazing to see how much people have here in associating gods with whatever they can. Anyways, there was a nice breeze blowing and I really felt good. You know, the kinda good one feels once in a long time. I was enjoying the peace and tranquility of the place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to observe with my limited ability and experience the difference. There were two major things which are very easy to observe - the health care facilities and the provisions for education. As I was roaming around the streets, I kept on wondering at the details of the courses that were available, the digital libraries ans internet even in the small mid-level colony schools. Talking about the health care, having had the first hand experience I am never gonna advice anyone to go under the scalpel in North due to inadequateness of doctors, poor felicitation,  atrocious hygiene and even with this the costs are much more. The reasons are very easy to gather as we wander in the streets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To begin with, the quality of education is much better. Education, I believe is all about guidance in choosing the best option for the student which includes various tools to do so along with competent people to not only remove obstacles but also to channelize his growth for his seemingly &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;best option. &lt;/span&gt;naturally this has a lot to with sense of innovation, variety of options, quality of teachers and peer comparability. Expect teachers, for which I won't comment due to lack of first hand experience but in other mentioned areas even in that short period one could fathom that there was a difference. Mind you I am trying to compare two similar cities or at least potentially similar cities in 2 different geographies namely Agra and Coimbatore. Agra has a population of 14 lac and its southern comparison had 19 lac. As I went around admiring the various building and life here I sat besides a closed Snack shop smoking the last puffs imagining life if I did settle in Coimbatore. Anyways with this thoughts I finished my last puffs. Damn!! it felt good. You could see the smile on my face. It felt like I belonged here. I only wished if there was someone there whom I could hug. I definitely needed another cigarette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I made up my mind, Kings is going to be my brand again. I bought 2 cigarettes this time. I went back to the colony again which was about a km inside to continue my walk. This time I took a different turn. I was already feeling a bit woozy but anyways I was loving it. I saw construction going on in one of the buildings and that to quiet diligently. I checked my watch and it was about midnight. Again the sheer amount of efficiency that can be achieved by finishing construction before time just by doing it in sleepy hours was something I was impressed with. I remembered huge crowd of laborers in Hyderabad's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Toli Chowki &lt;/span&gt;who queued up to get work early in the morning and more than half of them went back empty handed. here it was more round the clock and contract based which gave good guarantee of employment and shifts ensured work for most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lumbered on. I saw an array of doctor's apartments with specialized services like neonatal care, psycho-therapy, spinal surgery, facio-maxillary clinic &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;et al&lt;/span&gt;. Now this was just a colony and there were bigger, cheaper hospitals with better care available in the town center. When I remembered the days when I struggled to locate &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;even a good O.T. in Agra, I definitely felt the difference. The best we locate at one time was G.G. hospital and thank god that it was windy that day and to our horror we could find dust in the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;theater. &lt;/span&gt;The best part which i have not written so far is the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;roads. &lt;/span&gt;Tamil Nadu and for that matter even Kerela to an extent has been quiet famous for road development and had been a source of inspiration of business fraternity since long. I was starting to feel a bit weak in my legs hence I decided to go back. Anyways it had been more than an hour of wandering around for me. I felt like giving my left cigarette  to someone  who might  need it more  but I refrained thinking about what happened in Thailand.  You never know about those god  damn cultural differences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now  I had been in my hometown Agra for post surgery recuperation and I decided to take a similar walk to note down the comparisons. Conditions were different and hence the feel. It was about 4 in the evening and was naturally way busier but Agra would be busier than Coimbatore at any hour I believe. Anyways I again took couple of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Kings&lt;/span&gt; and went for a stroll. It was more like a village adjoining a city than a sub-urban area. First thing I remembered was Gandhi talking about the biggest challenge India being public Sanitation. I also recalled one of the American journalists calling India a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;huge Public Toilet&lt;/span&gt;. People specially children were defecating everywhere. Ditches were overflowing with sewage. It was impossible to escape smoke and stench anywhere. I felt dizzy again but this time I guess it was definitely not the cigarette, it was the same nausea I have when I see real world and the world I am living. Not that I am enjoying the best of luxury but none of us are doing enough. I have been trained as manager and am surrounded by young inspiring people who want to change the world or at least say so. But all we want to do is get a better job, compare and be jealous of others no matter what, feel proud at occasions and always cry about us having less than what we deserve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my grandmother is most sensible in my family and ready accept new ideas though she only studied till 8th standard. But even she had no qualms with the huge pile of sewage dumped quiet close to our building saying everyone does it and thats how it will remain. That is a fact. Anyhow I moved on trying to locate doctors or schools or anything of substance. I came across a noisy &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;subzi mundi. &lt;/span&gt;I passed it and entered some colony. The only thing which was noticeable was the stark difference in social economic classification which was easily recognizable by the difference of quality of house construction, the cars, everything even of the neighborers which was not there in coimbatore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was no doctor's sign and no school, college, anything. All I saw was a play school and a coaching institute. Another thing which was very was the sense violent unrest especially in the youth. You try talking to anyone and one can easily sense aggression. As much as my readings guide, I believe this is due to sense of insecurity or negligence. The issues are more basic here- Sanitation, Employment, Infrastructure (Agra has one of the best roads in U.P. and trust me they the worse than most places I have been).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-4340754535764347712?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/4340754535764347712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=4340754535764347712' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/4340754535764347712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/4340754535764347712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2008/01/north-versus-south.html' title='North versus South'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-6556143255251230064</id><published>2007-08-27T09:58:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-08-27T10:01:53.329+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My god is better than yours..</title><content type='html'>That’s right, I said it out loud. I’ll say it again: My God is Better than Your God. I don’t care if you’re a Christian, Muslim, Jew, Hindu or Branch Davidian. My God is Better than All Your Gods. Hands down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I suppose at this point you’re either ranting, raving, or building something to kill me with (or you just don’t give a damn, which means you’re probably not even reading anymore) but hear me out. Once I explain why My God is Better than Your God, you’ll most likely agree with what I have to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing that makes my God Better than Your God is this: I’m not even sure my God exists. But that’s OK, because in the end it doesn’t make a licking difference in my life anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way I see it, all through history mankind has been having this debate over whose God is the Best. And when I say debate, I mean debate in the religious sense: war, rape, atrocities, torture, maiming and baby killing. The fun kind of debate that religion has been up to for thousands of years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My God has tried to get away from that debate. He’s lead me to search deep within myself for the true answers. So I did. I thought about him and Jesus and Mohamed and all those other crazy party animals. I thought about all the things that make them different for awhile, but that was just crazy; there’s too many differences to even try to document them all. Then I thought about what makes them all the same, and you know what? There’s very little that make them all the same. In fact, about the only thing they have in common is benevolence. They all want their people to prosper and be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. What a bombshell! God wants you and I to be happy. That is a true saying no matter what religion you are talking about (except for the crazy ones, and who wants to follow a god that doesn’t want what is best for you?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how do we all achieve real happiness? It’s not by praying. Maybe praying makes you happy, but it doesn’t do much for me, and other people find it downright offensive. Maybe it’s by taking whatever we can as quickly as possible. No, it’s not that either. Material goods bring happiness when you buy them, but they quickly loose their attraction, and you end up just wanting the new one that just came out after you bought yours. That’s not true happiness, and even if it was, it’s not a way to make all people happy, because we do live on a planet of finite resources. And if we’re not all happy, someone unhappy will find a way to make others that are happy pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went on and on like this trying to figure it out, but after a while I was at the same point I was at when I was trying to map out the differences between the religions. There were just too many things to consider. So once again, I tried looking at it from a different perspective: if I can’t figure out what will make everyone happy, what can I show that will make anyone unhappy? Then it occurred to me: violence, in the most general sense of the word, makes people unhappy. So even though I’m not sure what will make everyone happy, I can make sure we get closer to this mythical state of happiness by trying to get rid of some violence in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And where do we get most of our violence? Religion. That’s right. Religion causes the most violence in the world, and it’s been that way since we invented the word religion. So the goal for me is to convince as many people as possible to give up on religion. It’s not the way to find peace, or to find God. If God loves you and me, and wants the best for you and me, isn’t it just logical to give each other enough space to pursue happiness?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I said before, I don’t even know if my God exists. I’ve gotten no definitive answers to the question of God’s existence. If he does exist (and he is a benevolent God) then I will make him happy by being good to myself and others, the whole time trying to make myself and the world around me better. If he doesn’t exist, then I’m still going to try to make myself as happy as possible, and I’m going to do that by feeling proud of myself and my accomplishments. In other words, I’m going to try to improve myself and the world around me as much as possible. So either way, I’m going to try to make myself happy by constant improvement in my character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s what my God taught me, and that is why My God is Better than Yours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-6556143255251230064?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/6556143255251230064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=6556143255251230064' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/6556143255251230064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/6556143255251230064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2007/08/my-god-is-better-than-yours.html' title='My god is better than yours..'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-5619330315074012281</id><published>2007-08-06T03:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-08-06T03:52:45.307+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Adventures of Robin Narwani</title><content type='html'>God does justice to all, and we all would vouch for that..&lt;br /&gt;And it was Robin  Narwani who was given tit for tat&lt;br /&gt;Every week he looked for a new girl to  chat.&lt;br /&gt;And to pataofy them he used all tricks in his hat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was fair  and handsome plus he was tall&lt;br /&gt;Ah cruel nature , dumb to the core , head was  small&lt;br /&gt;And so was the hat, thus the tricks soon went  dry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;He drummed, he danced he shrieked with joy&lt;br /&gt;But at  the end of the day , he had to settle with Roy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As per his version the  girls chased him too&lt;br /&gt;But god knows that they were rare and few&lt;br /&gt;At IIFT  ,under scorching Sun he tried casting his spell&lt;br /&gt;But crowned Ms IIFT , his  masculinity fell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;He drummed, he danced he shrieked with  joy&lt;br /&gt;But at the end of the day , he had to settle with Roy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still  with his tattered pride intact , he raised his cupid’s arrow&lt;br /&gt;Screening in a  jiffy, he chose his first sparrow&lt;br /&gt;Radhika was her name , but the name didn’t  matter&lt;br /&gt;Coz her fairness is what robin was after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And lemme tell you  again that even our Robin was quite fair&lt;br /&gt;But what was it that the girl  couldn’t dare&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was when she peeled his mind’s layer&lt;br /&gt;That she found  aghast, all his dumbness bare&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To give you the gist of all that went  wrong&lt;br /&gt;All his features turned pale as puerility ran  strong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;He drummed, he danced he shrieked with joy&lt;br /&gt;But at  the end of the day , he had to settle with Roy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still with high spirits he  lit a “BONG”&lt;br /&gt;Sitting in front of hostel, their conversations went too  long&lt;br /&gt;It is not the lyric but music which makes a song&lt;br /&gt;Lack of chemistry  soon halted the ding dong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;He drummed, he danced he shrieked  with joy&lt;br /&gt;But at the end of the day , he had to settle with Roy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And  then came blue eyed princess with Killer Khalsa at side&lt;br /&gt;Fearless of the  Killer, our Robin still tried,&lt;br /&gt;Cos to save him from Khalsa was his Punjabi  guide,&lt;br /&gt;So he poured his feelings forth, with nothing to hide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They  chatted all night, she was his latest prey&lt;br /&gt;And walked with her while Khalsa  was at bay&lt;br /&gt;The story went well till the placement day&lt;br /&gt;When the diamond  guys came and took her away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;He drummed, he danced he shrieked  with joy&lt;br /&gt;But at the end of the day , he had to settle with Roy&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-5619330315074012281?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5619330315074012281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=5619330315074012281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/5619330315074012281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/5619330315074012281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2007/08/adventures-of-bl-lalwani.html' title='Adventures of Robin Narwani'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-168812843712527629</id><published>2007-07-13T22:29:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-07-14T17:02:06.078+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I wish i could fly</title><content type='html'>For the first 13-14 years of my life, I never thought. I believe in India, humans are not designed to do so. But since then, I started my life as a group of many. I was a singer, dancer, an archaeologist, an anthropologist, a doctor, an administrator and many more. Not only this I started having numerous qualities. I was not one in a multitude. I was the multitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as life went on, the crowd started thinning out. My images started fading out. I am now left with only 3-4 of my favorite selves. There was a constant quest to know oneself and o quench the thirst  of the remaining  guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always wondered the reason for happiness. would providing food and water to the remaining images  suffice. Will it  make them fly?  Will  it  make them free if  just for a  little while?  I tried. i tried but in vain. May be the recipe requires a secret ingredient!! I do not know... Probably they call it love.... I do not know... But the images still need all the care, respect and nourishment that they can get...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nevertheless.... The quest remains.......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-168812843712527629?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/168812843712527629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=168812843712527629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/168812843712527629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/168812843712527629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2007/07/for-first-13-14-years-of-my-life-i.html' title='I wish i could fly'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-2188883535651173322</id><published>2007-07-13T22:05:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-07-14T15:28:02.955+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Have you seen Tendulkar playing?</title><content type='html'>I am privileged. I am elated. I am simply ecstatic. Today I witnessed miracles. I was not alone. What I saw was seen by the whole section A. Magic after magic after magic. Better than the front-foot cover drive of Dravid and even better than the back-foot Sachin's pull for 'Six' against Australia in Sharjah. Today we saw Dr. Ravi Shankar giving us 10 mantras of supply chain.&lt;br /&gt;All those who came to this class found themselves closer to their &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;real goal. &lt;/span&gt;I could see people having multiple orgasms after the 4th mantra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From procurement to manufacturing to delivery, from info to material or money flow, from logistics to risk pooling to route planning; its all ingrained in our veins now. Believe me, BCCI should stop looking further now. We have found the best coach ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But wait!! What does this remind me off? I am one guy who always tries to draw parallels. This particular self confessed Tendulkar reminds me of Amitabh Bachchan, APJ and Chidambram. Not because this guy even close to the above mentioned celebrities in their respective professions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My personal opinion- He is a piece of shit. But still he is relatively the better piece of litter we had at IIFT. Why do people then claim they are the BEST. Are they BEST? Have they proved themselves? No, I don't think so. The above mentioned people, have proved themselves but the common trait in all of them is humility. This is only lack of belief in one's own ability which forces people to &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;claim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Really!! How big a harm does insecurity inflict upon the mental faculties of an individual....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-2188883535651173322?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/2188883535651173322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=2188883535651173322' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/2188883535651173322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/2188883535651173322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-am-privileged.html' title='Have you seen Tendulkar playing?'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-8448184686240273953</id><published>2007-07-13T21:38:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-07-14T15:28:30.401+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Glass of Liquid</title><content type='html'>I am water. I am wine. I am bloody piss of a swine. Whatever I am, I am just lying still in a glass. The table might be different and so can be the liquid but it stays still. Never moves. Never Shakes. It never sends even so much so as a ripple. It just stays still, waiting for eternity. Absorbed in the liquid is years and years of tranquility derived from the system of nothingness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We grew coz we had to. We ate and drank coz we had to. We read coz everyone did the same thing and it seemed an obvious choice. Now we are still living the way we do coz nobody ever suggested a better thing. Probably after years of training, I am now behaving like a horse with flaps on both sides of the eyes who can look and act only in one direction. Years of training has killed the human desires amongst us. We all have become trees of stunted growth. We are bonsais who remain static, ages and dies but never so mush so creates a &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;ripple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I still am a glass of liquid (which one I don't know); ready to seep into soil. I still crave to make something grow.&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/24400682-8448184686240273953?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/8448184686240273953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=8448184686240273953' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/8448184686240273953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/8448184686240273953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-am-water.html' title='A Glass of Liquid'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-5089908251031273743</id><published>2007-07-13T21:21:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-07-14T15:28:54.853+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Ultra Violence</title><content type='html'>Fuck. Kill. Shred. Rape. Mutilate. Dig into the heads of maggots, rip them apart. There are a million such emotions running through. The reason I believe is only one- self torture. Not so much as you want to hurt others but it has more to see and feel their pain in yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I failed. I failed myself. I failed the system. But heck!!! hasn't the system failed me. No all I want is REVENGE. I was raped for 24 years. They all raped me. All I did for so many years was get myself educated. And amongst all, education failed me the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It tried to change me. Always. It always stole my ideas. It sat on ideas and waited for it to get rusted. Then it started shredding them. Ripping them. So much so that the dreams were left as a mere piece of illusion. It robbed me of everything I ever came up with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at people all around me getting oiled up to fit the grooves of an already running machine. Most of them know nothing about machines. They cant even make out the difference between two of the ilk. They are in no position to match their choice with desires. The more I think about what I have learned at school, the closer I come to the equation :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is EDUCATION == RAPE???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-5089908251031273743?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/5089908251031273743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=5089908251031273743' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/5089908251031273743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/5089908251031273743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2007/07/fuck.html' title='Ultra Violence'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-7462240151592828364</id><published>2007-07-13T17:53:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-07-14T15:29:23.177+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Pseudos.....</title><content type='html'>Some shit. Some shit. But what the heck!!! I never related to any shit. A joke said by Eddie Murphy in his very famous show called Delirious (1983) comes to my mind. Mind you, the joke was for kids below 12 years of age. Once there was a bear and a rabbit who wanted to take a crap in woods. After they were done the bear asks the rabbit," Do you mind shit sticking to your fur?". He said "No". The bear took the rabbit and wiped his ass off. Now this is some story I can relate to. I will explain you why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at pseudos everywhere. I look out of the window and see zombies making weird faces and gestures and giving false praises. When all their filthy minds can think of is how to fare better than the one they are praising. Obviously they see shit ticking to their fur but rather they all want to wipe it off with their colleague's fur and make their own fur look shinier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-7462240151592828364?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/7462240151592828364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=7462240151592828364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/7462240151592828364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/7462240151592828364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2007/07/some-shit.html' title='Pseudos.....'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24400682.post-114286604462338392</id><published>2006-03-20T20:15:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-07-14T15:30:05.088+05:30</updated><title type='text'>STRANGE LAWS FROM AROUND THE WORLD!</title><content type='html'>In &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Lebanon&lt;/span&gt;, men are legally allowed to have Sex with animals, but the&lt;br /&gt;Animals must be female. Having sexual Relations with a male animal is&lt;br /&gt;Punishable by death. (Like that makes sense.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Bahrain&lt;/span&gt;, a male doctor may legally examine a woman’s genitals,&lt;br /&gt;but is&lt;br /&gt;prohibited from looking directly at them during the examination. He may&lt;br /&gt;only see their reflection in a mirror. Muslims are banned from looking at&lt;br /&gt;the genitals of a corpse. This also applies to undertakers; the sex organs&lt;br /&gt;of the deceased must be covered with a brick or piece of wood at all&lt;br /&gt;times. (A brick??)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The penalty for masturbation in &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Indonesia&lt;/span&gt; is decapitation. (Wonder which&lt;br /&gt;head?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are men in &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Guam&lt;/span&gt; whose full-time job is to travel the countryside and&lt;br /&gt;deflower young virgins, who pay them for the privilege of having sex for&lt;br /&gt;thefirst time... Reason: under Guam law, it is expressly forbidden for&lt;br /&gt;virgins to marry. (Let’s just think for a minute; is there any job&lt;br /&gt;anywhere else in the world that even comes close to this?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Hong Kong,&lt;/span&gt; a betrayed wife is legally allowed to kill her adulterous&lt;br /&gt;husband, but may only do so with her bare hands. The husband’s&lt;br /&gt;lover, on the other hand, may be killed in any manner desired. (Ah!&lt;br /&gt;Justice!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Topless saleswomen are legal in &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Liverpool, England&lt;/span&gt; - but only in tropical&lt;br /&gt;fish stores. (But of course!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Cali, Colombia,&lt;/span&gt; a woman may only have sex with her husband, and the&lt;br /&gt;first time this happens, her mother must be in the room to witness the&lt;br /&gt;act.(Makes one shudder at the thought.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Santa Cruz, Bolivia,&lt;/span&gt; it is illegal for a man to have sex with a woman&lt;br /&gt;and her daughter at the same time. (I presume this was a big enough&lt;br /&gt;problem that they had to pass this law?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Maryland&lt;/span&gt;, it is illegal to sell condoms from vending machines with one&lt;br /&gt;exception: prophylactics may be dispensed from a vending machine only&lt;br /&gt;“in places where alcoholic beverages are sold for consumption on the&lt;br /&gt;premises.” (Is this a great country or what? ... Not as great as&lt;br /&gt;Guam!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24400682-114286604462338392?l=candleinrain.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/feeds/114286604462338392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24400682&amp;postID=114286604462338392' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/114286604462338392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24400682/posts/default/114286604462338392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://candleinrain.blogspot.com/2006/03/strange-laws-from-around-world-in.html' title='STRANGE LAWS FROM AROUND THE WORLD!'/><author><name>ieyush</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18055775167166473873</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
