<?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-33843944</id><updated>2011-07-30T22:58:22.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Retrospection</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Dhanya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15673985176563136771</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>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33843944.post-6461777683991269011</id><published>2009-07-19T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T09:50:56.418-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Of  Marriage, ‘Horror’scope and Others…</title><content type='html'>These days, I am mostly, yeah around 90% OFF ie., far from using Social Networking Sites. Indeed! I have surpassed that age to sit all-day-long and scrapping pals, hunting for fresh pals or even open ‘Love this’ ‘Love that’ communities, which are a thread of useless, junk, sometimes, provoking comments. That being an angle, there is another factual reason and that’s to regretfully ignore best friends, good friends, friends and ‘by mistake’ friends from asking the ever so hateful question of the moment ‘So, when are you getting married?’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two years ago, when shot this question, I would gleefully say  “A good 5 years more dude!” But now, when I am just about to have a silver jubilee completion party next month, I am a little embarrassed, more arrogant and mostly ignorant to the question whenever asked. Its not like I didn’t try the objective type answers like ‘yes’ meaning Soon, ‘No’ meaning ‘Not at all’, 'May be' meaning ‘Planning to’! Any of the above answers would soon spray a cloud of questions. Love or arranged? Software engineer or Manager? Mallu (Fish eating) or Non-Mallu? Having been through this hazard, and hating it from the core of my heart, I chose to simply keep shut from this questioning lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next lot are ‘Eyes only’ ones. Let me explain that. Either in form of colleagues, sometimes neighbors and sometimes, this is the mother of all, ie., your worst enemy (mostly relatives). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instances: A never seen or heard neighbor! Apparently, she had been watching us (my family) closely for a few days. On a bright sunny day, as my getting-old and hair-greyed dad,  was on his way to our newly made house, he is stopped by this ‘still stranger’ woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SW: “I see you everyday passing this way. Coming back after dropping you elder daughter eh?” &lt;br /&gt;D: huh! (sounding slightly lost) : “ Ya, actually a kind of morning walk!”&lt;br /&gt;SW: “That’s good. Heard you also have another daughter. Probably not married yet?” &lt;br /&gt;D: ‘Yeah Yeah right!” &lt;br /&gt;SW: Nice. So someone told me you are Nairs? &lt;br /&gt;D(proud): that’s right &lt;br /&gt;SW: Good. Even we are. My son is ……….(intro abt the son) &lt;br /&gt;D: Gets the hint &lt;br /&gt;SW: So whats her star sign? (Mallu star sign)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow.. that’s easy aint it? Spy spy till you get to snatch your neighbour’s daughter. Ah you wish! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad, not truly interested, shyed away by saying “stars wont match  thank you”. I thought he was wise in giving a reason like that and scooting away. But that’s not true. He actually had met a pandit, god knows when? and got a list of 8 stars that would not match with mine. And boy, he has the list mugged! Just mention the star sign and he would readily say a ‘yes or no’. Hahaha works to my advantage strangely, coz out of the 12 stars, 8 don’t match. Thanks pandit ji!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2nd instance: A brave heart blood relative&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was more than 3 years back, when there was a big tiff between two families and we became rival gangs for one another. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on another bright, sunny day, this mammoth rival enters our new house. Sweets in hand, gift for the little one, apology for the elders and finally a warm hug to ME. EWWWW… I was fuming. Knew not, what this old-blood-stud meant! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a cheeky grin, I left to work only to come back and hear from my dad: “He has an NRI (Non-reliant Indian) in mind for you”. &lt;br /&gt;Me: “SO?”&lt;br /&gt;D: The stars match, just need to match the horrorscope.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Oh, I thought if the stars match, it’s a Match!&lt;br /&gt;D: “The two horrorscopes will be taken to a pandit. He will match them, and then say on a scale of 10, how much you both together would weigh” Sorry, he meant would rate.&lt;br /&gt;Me: And the minimum should be?&lt;br /&gt;D: About 8!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hhahahaha. I can’t but stop myself from laughing non-stop on hearing this. Certainly not questioning the cultural ways, but if a pandit can rate all couples so well, then why would any married couple call it off after a while? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well… all is fair in a country that’s orthodox, highly religious and mostly anti-love marriages. As for me, I believe the man just needs to be sane and not necessarily giving the test and ranking 8 on the pandit meter! For now, please people just let me celebrate my silver jubilee of existence without having to frown about it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33843944-6461777683991269011?l=dannieopines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/feeds/6461777683991269011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33843944&amp;postID=6461777683991269011' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/6461777683991269011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/6461777683991269011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/2009/07/of-marriage-horrorscope-and-others.html' title='Of  Marriage, ‘Horror’scope and Others…'/><author><name>Dhanya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15673985176563136771</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-33843944.post-8311433137414510256</id><published>2008-07-16T05:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T04:57:27.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Before N After</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDHANYA%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="time"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !mso]&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;style&gt; st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman";} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I speculated over and over again, before deciding to move back to &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Bangalore&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. It was never gonna be easy after four long ‘independent’ years or shall I say, ‘The Frenzy’ years. Me and my best friend brainstormed about all the possible problems I would face. We obviously came out with an overflowing list of negatives and some positives. Having to think about living a better life, it was always a best bet to come back to the city where I spent most of my life and where, probably, I would decide the next course of my life.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Changes happened and happened all too soon. Ten days now, and am ready with a list of ‘Before’ and ‘After’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Before&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wake up, heat water, iron clothes, make tea, fresh up and leave!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;After&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wake up, switch on TV, read paper like to mug up all columns, steaming hot tea served, ask the geaser to be switched on, freshen up, yell at mom for not ironing the clothes, move to breakfast table, complain about having idli and chutney everyday, frown and get out of the house.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Before&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Gather friends, book tickets for &lt;st1:time hour="22" minute="0"&gt;10 pm&lt;/st1:time&gt; show, spend Rs 200 on a good dinner, head to theater, enjoy or crib about the movie, head for coffee at &lt;st1:time hour="1" minute="0"&gt;1 am&lt;/st1:time&gt;, yap yap yap and go to bed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;After&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;st1:time hour="13" minute="0"&gt;1 PM&lt;/st1:time&gt;: call home no matter where. Answer the following questions:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Where are you? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What are you doing?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Whom are you with?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When will you be back?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;st1:time hour="20" minute="0"&gt;8 PM&lt;/st1:time&gt; rush from wherever you are at the maximum speed to get home quick. On the way, think about the possible excuses. Jammed traffic, cheh! traffic jam on Hosur road. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Met a friend, went for a coffee. Naaa… then will have to say who, why, what. Decided: Traffic Jam it is!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;st1:time hour="21" minute="0"&gt;9 PM&lt;/st1:time&gt;: Reach home and start swearing at the city roads, autorickshaws, cops and all possible creatures on earth. Make no eye contact. Rush to the room, change and order for dinner to be served. All eyes on me.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Simply ignore maadi. Turn towards niece and start playing with her. Within ten mins tension in the air is eased. Wait for the statement, “Better be early next time!” Nod, smile and pat urself ;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Before&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wednesdays &amp;amp; Saturdays were a blast. Wednesday: Ladies night. Hit the pub at 8, get a drink, enjoy the karaoke, sing along, dance along, shake that ass man, bully friends, feel happy feel sad or vice versa and head back to your messy room where clothes are all around. Dump them on the wash basket and snore.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;After&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wednesday: Be a good daughter and help around the household. Dad, mum – happy. Me: So very Happy (Grrrr)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Saturday: &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Temple&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;, Pooja and Cooking. All set for the Future wife to be. (Fiiish)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ten days… and counting…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33843944-8311433137414510256?l=dannieopines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/feeds/8311433137414510256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33843944&amp;postID=8311433137414510256' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/8311433137414510256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/8311433137414510256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/2008/07/before-n-after.html' title='Before N After'/><author><name>Dhanya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15673985176563136771</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-33843944.post-6271146180364304944</id><published>2008-06-23T23:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T07:15:46.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pyaar Hua... Ikraar Hua Hain...</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt;&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CDHANYA%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="time"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="stockticker"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:worddocument&gt;   &lt;w:view&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:breakwrappedtables/&gt;    &lt;w:snaptogridincell/&gt;    &lt;w:wraptextwithpunct/&gt;    &lt;w:useasianbreakrules/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:browserlevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !mso]&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;style&gt; st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal 	{mso-style-parent:""; 	margin:0in; 	margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:12.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 	{size:8.5in 11.0in; 	margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; 	mso-header-margin:.5in; 	mso-footer-margin:.5in; 	mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 	{page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:10.0pt; 	font-family:"Times New Roman";} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;A morning of laziness, anxiety and restlessness pounded my head on this ‘eventful’ day. Trying to keep my mind away from various thoughts, I was moving around the house listening to loud and thumping music. Aimlessly, wandering and hopping around, my phone buzzed and all of a sudden, I decided to pack my bag and leave to &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Bangalore&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;I took the only available last-seat-ticket in an AC Volvo bus. I boarded that bus that evening and the minute I entered, I knew I had to walk all the way up to the back. The last row had five seats conjoined. On right, I saw a middle-aged man, well dressed in formals seated near the window and next to him was another old man. Desperately wanting the window seat, I looked to my left and saw a young specky chap sitting at that window seat. The last thing I wanted was to sit between three men. Certainly impossible, I asked the chap very politely if you could have the window seat. The guy obliged without much hesitation. This was not the first time I was travelling alone surrounded by men. So, having four men beside me wasn’t very scary.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;Bus moved. I settled down quickly and was happy to get the corner seat. Settling my baggage in the side of the seat, I sat and looked outside the window. A little later, uncle at the other end broke the silence and said, “Bus arrived an hour late. What time do you think we will reach &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Bangalore&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;?” I didn’t quite know at whom the question was shot. I turned to look at him. The young chap then said maybe ninish. As the conversation built, the man began to ask the guy about his job profile. What’s with old people and their curiosity about where you work and how much you earn? I thought. While uncle was talking, I noticed that he made eye contact with me a couple of times. I quickly turned my head to the left and looked out of the window trying to avoid unnecessary mundane conversation. A few minutes later the guy next to me asked “Why did you opt for the last seat?” I turned to him and said, “last minute booking’. He grinned and explained how he had booked the ticket a day before and still ended with the last seat. We smiled and I turned to the window again. Uncle probably felt a little ignored now. He asked the guy few more questions. I didn’t bother to lend a ear. Instead I began digging into my back pack to search for the ipod. Unable to find it, I frowned and sat back staring at the window. Then the guy took out a pack of cashews and offered it. I promptly declined! He insisted, I again, declined! He then said, “It’s healthy you know”. I was scared that if I didn’t take atleast one the guy would go on offering me cashews for the rest of the night or kill me with the ‘healthy eating habits’ tips. So, I took one and turned to the window again. He then asked me the intro questions like Where, When and How. I answered in short.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;Silence prevailed for a few minutes. Getting bored and hungry, I began to yawn non-stop. He immediately said he didn’t have the habit of sleeping in bus. Well then… I said, “You can watch my baggage kept in the side”. He smiled acting like he didn’t get the sarcasm. After sometime, he asked me if I read books and had any interesting book with me. I said I do read but am not carrying any. From there on the conversation went hay wire and suddenly he started talking about the importance of history. I didn’t quite agree with a couple of points and hence we debated for about 15 mins when he said, “History is to be analysed and changed”. Analyzing for sure but what was with changing it. How would one rewind to centuries back and undo the events in the past like the world wars or the bombing of &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Hiroshima&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; and &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Nagasaki&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. I concluded saying, ‘you are just brilliant!’. My second sarcasm of the night. This time he probably got it as silence prevailed for sometime. At about &lt;st1:time hour="22" minute="0"&gt;10 pm&lt;/st1:time&gt; the bus came to a halt for dinner break. Hating to step out and eat alone, I decided to go to sleep instead. The chap got up and pulled up his jeans began to stretch. “U coming down?” he asked. I looked at him and said ‘errr…. Noo’. He swung his arms and left to grab a bite. My instinct told me that the guy was a little tricky and hence decided to ignore him. I put the blanket over me and pretended to sleep. In about 15 mins, he was back. “Excuse me”, he said. I didn’t bother to open my eye. He said that again and this time I responded. He now offered me a fruity bottle! I gave him a weird look. He said, “Never go to bed empty stomach”. I didn’t know if I was to laugh at his generosity or to yell at his gutsy move on a girl travelling alone. Deciding to play safe, I said ‘Ohh.. I don’t want it. Thanks a ton though.’ He then gave me gyaan on how not to skip dinner or at least not go to bed empty stomach.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;Thoroughly uninterested, I gave a frowned thinking it wasn’t necessary to argue. So, I turned to the window again. He left the bottle in the seat pocket and gave a self intro. “Hi…I am a Mr. P, A techie working for…blah”. I said ‘That’s wonderful’. You? he asked. I said my name and then told him I was extremely sleepy and had no intention to entertain him. He apologized for being a prick. ‘Don’t forget to watch my bag. Good night!’ I said and covered my head with the blanket. I didn’t really fall asleep. As the seats were so close, every time the bus took a turn, our shoulders rubbed against each other and I ensured that I kept to the extreme right almost putting my entire weight on the window. I acted like I was dead to the world under the cover. Just then the bus went over a massive pot hole jolting us left, right &amp;amp; center. My neck kinda sprained, so I changed my position and put my head on the left. Quickly, he said : “How can you sleep in this seat, its highly uncomfortable?” I told him for me it didn’t matter. Of course it did matter. But shaking vigorously and painfully was much more bearable than his petty talks, I thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;Next, I decided to keep my head only to the right no matter the pain. A couple of phone calls and then I fell asleep. Really asleep, this time. Suddenly, I felt something creeping on my forehead. The lizard phobic that I am I thought it was that dirty long thinge. I quivered and got up in a shock. I realized that the yucky creepy long thing was his finger that was fiddling with my hair fringes. I sat up straight and said aloud, “what the hell are you doing”? Unmoved and remaining calm, he said, “Was trying to put your hair back as it was falling on your face. Thought it will disturb your sleep. Now I began to tremble. I didn’t know how to respond in the situation. If I yelled at him, the crowd in the bus would know, next morning when I wake up and descend the bus, all eyes will follow me and pity me. If I asked for a change of seat, I would have to get off the bus. What was I to do? Screm, Calm or Slap?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;Clutching my fist and controlling my anger, I pointed a finger right to his eye and said, “Keep your hands to yourself and don’t try any dirty tricks. I don’t want to embarrass you in front of the whole crowd.” I said in a bitter tone. The guy apologized. I starred back and turned away. I could hear loud snores, some sounding like a elephant growl and some sounding like a bus whistle. It was about &lt;st1:time hour="14" minute="0"&gt;2 pm&lt;/st1:time&gt; and I was wide awake as the thought of sleeping scared me. What if he tried this, what if he tried that, I kept asking myself. For a long time, the guy didn’t make any move or utter a word. I thought things were finally in place and there was no reason for worry. Just then the guy came close to my ears, I could feel the hot air hitting my left side and then he whispered. I turned to him abruptly and said aloud, What? This time caring less for my fellow travelers. He came up with a blinder, “I like you. I really mean it.” He said boldly.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;Now… my anger crossed all limits. “You nuts??? That’s the quickest proposal ever on earth. I am sorry not a very impressive line. You got anything better? Nonsense!” I howled. “Am sorry, am sorry. Relax, I know you didn’t like what I said, but I am serious. I’ve never met someone like you. I like the way you talk.” he whispered again.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;My tounge tied, I didn’t know what more to say and shut his gob. I sighed and then in a split second I shoved my gold ring on his face and said, “DUDE, AM ENGAGED! NOT THE RIGHT CANDIDATE TO &lt;st1:stockticker&gt;HIT&lt;/st1:stockticker&gt; ON &lt;st1:stockticker&gt;MIND&lt;/st1:stockticker&gt; YOU’, I said and turned away. Wanting to see his reaction, I looked at him. I was amazed at my impromptu creativity. I was beginning to get a kick out of this now. He made a puppy face, put his head in between his thigh, grabbed his head from back from both hands and sat like that for nearly two minutes. I began to laugh at his perfect take 1 shot.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;I turned right and started laughing my gut out. Maan, this guy has some balls, I thought. Then there was silence for a long time. My face covered with the blanket, I kept laughing at the situation. I looked at my ring and gave it a peck. A 6-old-gold ring that dad bought me on passing of Xth standard never seemed so valuable prior to this.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;Having things under control now, I was beginning to sleep. Hold on, not yet. “Can I ask you something?” came the voice. At this point, I wished I could jump off the window. In total disgust, I removed the sheet from my head and asked “Now what?”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;“Is it forced or chosen?” Now, for the love of God, leave me alone, I screamed. The man in front of me woke up in a shock. He stared at both of us like giving a warning or something. We remained quiet and waited for him to yell. But he quietly went back to his dream world without uttering a word. Thanks for the help neighbour! I told myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;Mr P then said: “Tell me, I will not bug you after this” he promised. I yelled, “&lt;st1:place&gt;Chosen&lt;/st1:place&gt;, &lt;st1:place&gt;Chosen&lt;/st1:place&gt;, &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Chosen&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;”.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;Now the bus braked all of sudden. Oh my, was I that loud? I didn’t dare to lift my head up. Pretending it wasn’t me I put my head down for a few seconds and then realized a little later that the bus had stopped for a pee break. I sighed!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;Mr P was now ready with his next question. “Really? You love him? May be its an infatuation”. Wow, I forgot when was the last time I had so much patience in me. I said in anguish, “Are you trying to break my marriage?” “If you are not interested in the affair then, yes!” he said. This time I laughed right on his face. He looked confused and was taken aback. Gaining some control, I asked him what he would do if it was a genuine love marriage.”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;Now, he pretended to be thinking and said in a tough tone, “I’ve a knife!” The smile on my face vanished in a jiffy and I almost fell on the helpful gentleman in front of me. I mumbled, trembled and chuckled. All possible thoughts came to my head. My bloody body with stabs, photographers enjoying the Kodak moment and cops measuring the body length and stuff. God save me, I prayed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;Acting tough, I said, “Listen, you are off your mind and trying to scare me with a knife is the least you can do. These are some symptoms of insomnia. You really need some sleep or at least I desperately do” I said and covered myself again. Knife is all I could think of and my blood stained body.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;From then on the journey passed off peacefully without any more drama. I fell asleep, sound asleep. Next when I opened my eyes, I found myself in a Dhaba. Panicked and breathless, I sat straight up trying to figure where I was. Soon I realized, I was still in the bus and that I had stuck my face to the window and the bus had stopped for chaai paani in front of a Dhaba. Heaving a sigh of relief, I suddenly remembered Mr P. I slowly turned towards him and saw that he was in deep sleep. “Huh, I don’t sleep in the bus”, I laughed at his statement. Then, I dug all the sections of my backpack and found my Ipod. I quickly put on the ear phones and played the music loud out the fear that he would wake up and start some random bullshit again. In about half an hour from then, destination &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Bangalore&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; arrived. Taking the ear phones off, I picked my bag and was ready to get off. I said excuse me and and sneaked past his legs without saying a word. I got off, went to get my suitcase from the boot. When I turned, after picking the suitcase, Mr P was standing there waiting for me. Now, I was all set to blow off at him. He said, “Chalo lets go.” I dropped the suitcase down, folding my hands and said, “Just leave and don’t bother about me”. He said, “I thought we were going in the same rick.” I told him that he had dreamt of it and I never striked any such deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="" face="times new roman"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;u1:p&gt;&lt;/u1:p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;I called for an auto, threw my suitcase inside and ordered the auto guy to leave. Mr P stood there looking at the auto departing and waving. I put my back pack aside and started laughing loudly recapping the whole episode. The auto guy stopped to ask if everything was alright. I said yeah all was well. He probably thought I was a loco and I was thinking what an jerk Mr P was J&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33843944-6271146180364304944?l=dannieopines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/feeds/6271146180364304944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33843944&amp;postID=6271146180364304944' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/6271146180364304944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/6271146180364304944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/2008/06/pyaar-hua-ikraar-hua-hain.html' title='Pyaar Hua... Ikraar Hua Hain...'/><author><name>Dhanya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15673985176563136771</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-33843944.post-5457443966011326407</id><published>2008-04-08T06:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T04:42:51.155-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Little, Swalpa, Konjam, Ithiri, 'Extra Spice’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;‘Spice up your life man!’ was one of the most commonly used catch phrase during college. It was the easiest way to coax your friends for a movie or for a late night party. Then, I loved this wacky statement, as I thought it was just a kick ass line that could empower anyone.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Strangely, now, I hear this phrase from a certain sect of people over and over again. These are people who are supposedly in a ‘relationship’ or are ‘married’ to the one they thought was very special. Whenever, I raise a few questions about the authenticity of marriage, my married friends say, "Chillax gal, everybody needs some extra spice in life'!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The other day, I read this news bit about a techie who smothered his wife to death in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Bangalore&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; and then killed himself. The guy, a infy geek, had apparently suspected his wife’s fidelity and had pictures of her with her ‘alleged’ boyfriend gathered. On gaining substantial evidence, he resorted to this extreme step.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Ah, nope, I am not writing this in support of the guy nor due to any empathy towards the gal. Their story just gave me the right news peg for my next blog. ‘Fidelity’, ‘illicit relationship’ “extra-marital affairs’ are all quite fancy but a dangerous predicament. Of late, I have come across a lot of married couple, who are not quite content with their marriage. Be it a love marriage or an arranged marriage, both forms seem to be taking a beating. Some of the common reasons: “You never give me my space”, “You think I didn’t notice you ogling at your friend’s girlfriend”, “you don’t satisfy my wants completely”, “Having a fuck all sex life”, “I meet my husband once a year”, “She doesn’t keep my mum and dad happy!” and the best of all is “Unfortunately, I found my true love after marriage”!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Well, seems like genuine problem all of them. So where lies the solution? Divorce? Hmm… may be, but not exactly. Believe me, that’s not even an option these guys think about. For such couple, everything else is genuine than a divorce. I am quite sure, its not that they still believe, marriage is a ‘janam janam ka’ bond and stuff. They know that filing for a divorce, attending those meaningless counceling sessions, paying the lawyer everyday for his chai paani and worse waiting for a minimum of four years for a legal separation! Uff... that’s indeed quite a lot of work! An extra-marital affair now, seems like the next best bet.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Are you wondering why I say this? Everyone has a problem or two with their spouse. However, the reason at times ain’t just strong enough to separate from each other completely. It is possible to manage and live with each other despite these differences keeping in mind the family sentiments and the brutal societal treatment. But how? Huh… “just add some extra spice machii!”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Afterall, who would mind a double dhamaka offer? A 24-hr maid service at home or a chalta phirta male companion as a symbol of security is no harm right? And for your other requirements, there’s always room for another person who can fulfill the needs that your dear husband or wife is unable to.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Now, this is exactly the kinda spice that pisses me off. People don’t realize that these spicy ingredients, gives way to physical and mental abuse, depression, trauma for family, mental block in children and so on so forth. I believe, it is really not bad, to call off such a lose-hanging relationship and start afresh. If nothing helps in a steady married life, its better to call it off. But that’s exactly where the crux of the problem is. Its not practical for someone to wait for six years to get a legal separation. So in which case all the above spice is automatically added.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:12;"  &gt;So then what is the solution? Blame the Judiciary? Blame the culture? Blame the society? Or yourself, for choosing ‘the one’. Difficult to answer and depressing to think. Its tough to take a call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;"Blame it on me" by Akon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WpgMuHwAdC4&amp;amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WpgMuHwAdC4&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33843944-5457443966011326407?l=dannieopines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/feeds/5457443966011326407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33843944&amp;postID=5457443966011326407' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/5457443966011326407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/5457443966011326407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/2008/04/little-swalpa-konjam-ithiri-extra-spice.html' title=''/><author><name>Dhanya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15673985176563136771</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-33843944.post-1020762377236000094</id><published>2007-11-01T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T03:41:15.384-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Incredibles: Part 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Cheers to the long night yapping sessions, to the glasses that gave us a high, to the dance floors that beared our weight, to the restaurants that have been victims of our loud and wild celebrations and finally, cheers to the gang which consists of 'Sesky' people :D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Its been a year of complete exuberance, highly dramatic in terms of career and highly special in terms of the times we have spent together. I don quite remember how the seven members in the group came so close to each other. Hyderabad has been unexpectedly special and cherishable. Relocating to a new city of strangers, trying to build a rapport with anybody who came your way and attempting to know to kick it all off and make a few friends. Finally one by one, all seven to nine of us started interacting with one another, mainly coz of the cities we hail from, speaking a common language and having the same wave lenghth just helped all of us kick it all off. Gradually, we started hanging out as a group in coffee shops, restaurants for dinner, going shopping, going pubbing and finally crashing at someone's place gossiping and watching movies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Each one of us are completely different set of individuals. The irony being 2 of us sharing the same name. It takes me quite by surpise as to how both of us hit it off when we are like north pole and a south pole. The guys are ultimate museum peices. Four of them, so well knit with one another that no matter how much the others try to fit in with them thats quite unlikely to happen. These tall men have distinct characteristics to the extent that one would only waste their time trying to figure out wat on earth got'em together. So, do they eva fight? Of course yes! guess wat, they fight, they fight to the extent of abusing one another and telling each other stay away from ma zone. The Zone- Hot chicks :D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Sharing a lunch table with em every afternoon has been the most exciting part of all this. Luckily for me, as an ardent cricket follower the codes 'mid-off' 'long-on' 'slip' wasnt all that hard to figure out. The excitement in their eyes on seeing the best faces, the best bodies and the best features knew no bounds. However, those sentences that required to be censored were thoughtfully passed on to each other's ear without letting us [the girlies] being a part of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Darling, as I call one of the guys, is the utmost entertainment. His one liners are highly cheezy but quite cute nevertheless. Oh, he has quitta fan following. Agreed, bugger is tall and handsome. But the big question we all ask is, Y is it that he neva succeeds in his attempts to find his better half? This question is bigger than that of, Will India sign the N-deal? He is modesty personified, cricket frenzy, very conscious of his dressing, wacky humor and girls luv calling him Spikey :D I admire this fella for a lotta reasons. He isnt expressive abt his feelings for friends, but has given us each a special place in his life where we are free to be outright frank with him, bully him to the extent that he pleads and we finally oblige. Darling, u rock da. I seriously wish u get lucky soon :) I have enjoyed every second in your company and I must say, I will cherish this friendship for a lifetime :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Thendi, hahah now this is quite a challenging blank to fill. Thendi and I share a special bond. That of an unofficial husband and wife. How, when and why? Well... thats a suspense that I wouldn't quite like to share. Thendi, as we call him is the most reliable, sensitive, intelligent and highly regarded member of the group. If ther's anything priceless about this guy thats his dance :) Music can drive him nuts and dance floor and turn on his every single nerve. He cares two hoots about whose watching, hez there to have fun and only fun. Poor guy has been the victim of my mood swings, actually all our mood swings. He has also been the love guru for some. He patiently lends a ear to anybodies love story, the mind is working but mouth is zipped. Finally after everything, he has thins knack of coming up with a single statement thats would be like a whirpool and will remain in your head forever. Hes a complete family man, not highly patriotic though :) Hez one to watch out for while in a theatre. He will shout to the loudest with swear words if the movie makes no sense to him and rips it apart aloud. Timing, oh ho hez so perfect when it comes to this Huh! [Sarcastic really] late to bed and late to rise. Like darling, thendi too has his own set of followers. He admires, adores, ogles and can be dumb founded on seeing a pretty face. Nevertheless, he neva goes overboard and act crazy. We have sat overnight talking about relationships, women and men. Intense arguments and thought but all of which made complete sense. Thendi, is greatly gifted. He can sit on a chair and go off to sound sleep when someone is actually talking to him. Count 3o seconds and thendi can snore away in any position he is in :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;In a big gang as ours, its hard to believe that the absence of one person can do any harm. I so wish this was true. Reality bites! The fact is when the most important link of your website fails, the layout, the content and everything else falls apart. Tats exactly the case here. If thendi aint in picture, the whole frame looks dull. I will cherish every moment we have spent together, the drives, the speedy bike rides and the times we have all together spent. The fact is we all are at this very important juncture in our careers where goodbyes will come all too soon. I will surely miss the phrases 'Sheadup' 'Bastard' etc etc and loads n loads of memories thats carved in ma mind :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;'Partner', another manly character. Hez the perfect ditcher :) Any plans made be rest assured that one person is gonna miss it n thats him. He is a cutie pie and referred by one of the girls as 'sweetheart'. He has a make belief world of his own, where his friends and of course a 'going around' girlfriend and his mom are the only crew. Hez handsome and can give a complex to the other men. This quiet, shy and mommy boy has been ma sole inspiration when it comes to thinking of shedding weight sumtime :) I so remember how I hated this guy when he initially joined the organisation. He would go all around ppl's desk dropping a hi to everyone except me and no prizes for guessing wat i felt abt this man. Suddenly after a few months, things changed and he's been a part of all our outings, the pondi trip, dinners etc. A tip for anybody who wants this man dead. Hide his mobile for an hour and job done :) All this apart, hez indeed been a great friend who makes u feel so comfortable around him. Hez the kid of the group whose just touched 20 and has a long way to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UipQ4S5Fek4/RzBNZOFLFyI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/sGHiyXt8AAE/s1600-h/sunil+dinner+party+012.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UipQ4S5Fek4/RzBNZOFLFyI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/sGHiyXt8AAE/s320/sunil+dinner+party+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129685071246858018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been a complete swirl this one and half year. Low's and high's, twists and turns in professional and personal life and its all the more exciting when such situations are shared with some lovely people like this. Hyderabad wudn't have been any special without 'the incredibles'. People with complete different views, all game for some fun and most importantly a well knit group that understand each other so perfectly well. I hate this juncture I am at where I see things falling apart and all of us moving in different directions. Goodbyes are never easy and the worse is they keep coming to ruin it all. But thats what makes life so beautiful i guess, the challenge lying within us to pick ourselves up from these situations and move on to meet new and more great people in life. Hey.. this is definitely not ma good bye blog to Hyderabad but am hoping it will come soon :) watch out for the 'sesky ladies' description in Part 2 :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/33843944-1020762377236000094?l=dannieopines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/feeds/1020762377236000094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33843944&amp;postID=1020762377236000094' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/1020762377236000094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/1020762377236000094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/2007/11/cheers-to-long-night-yapping-sessions.html' title='The Incredibles: Part 1'/><author><name>Dhanya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15673985176563136771</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UipQ4S5Fek4/RzBNZOFLFyI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/sGHiyXt8AAE/s72-c/sunil+dinner+party+012.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33843944.post-116897158771319387</id><published>2007-01-16T10:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T09:38:42.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing something Guru?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6346/3720/1600/422406/guru-poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/6346/3720/320/588150/guru-poster.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;The buzz a year back in Karnataka was so intense that I took it for granted that the newpapers in Karnataka had virtually died. Maybe, the monotony of following dry politics or the boredom of following our Desi cricketers for a quote,  all drove the reporters helter skelter for news that they finally ended up landing at Hubli. This time they were out chasing none other but the Guru himself along with his filmi and asli gharwali Aishwarya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Mediapersons had more than one reason to chase them. Firstly, for a verdict on their then going secret affair and secondly, for a tip-off on Mani Ratnam's Guru. Tight lipped as ever, nothing spilled out of either of the actors or the great Ratnam. Secondly, instances like Aishwarya's minor accident during the shoot all gave them enough spices to keep their readers interest. The villagers in Banapur and around Hubli gathered at the shooting spot and at a point the mob became uncontrollable that police had to resort to lathi charge. Whatever said and done, after nearly 14 months the movie is on the big screen and above all, the story reflects the growth of Reliance founder Dhirubhai Ambani. "The script and the story of the movie are purely fictional. Infact, fictions come from reality and hence Guru is just a reflection of anybody's story and not necessarily about any particular individual" said the Junior Bachchan at a TV show when asked to clarify. Director, Mani Ratnam takes the same stand and for obvious reasons.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Now, a spectator can relate this movie very well to the man who left behind a new world called the Reliance.  Guru, a young lad, who is often taken by neck by this headmaster father leaves to Istanbul to work with his uncle. Finally, on getting there the boy starts off by selling petrol cans. Oh, what an irony. Dhirubhai started his career selling petrol cans too. Moving on, the boy who completed eight years in the company is recognised for his hardwork and is promoted with a high pay but not before he wears on a tie as insisted by the Phirang. Guru, a mature lad by then pleasently refuses the offer and says, "if the 'Gore's' think I am a capable man then why should I work for them". And rightly so!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;On coming back to his village, he starts thinking about starting a bijnas and here's where his friend comes into the picture and Guru strikes a deal with him of marrying his sister who had left the house in trust of another man but was promptly deceived. ( Sensible man ;))&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Victorious and resourceful with a wife, a good sum of dowry and a 50 per cent partner in the business, Guru heads to Mumbai to realise his dream. Well... what bijas was he thinking? Exactly what Dhirubhai thought-Polyster. With the corruption and rich men involved in the game, Guru had to resort to playing tricks. The scene I enjoyed the most was where he meets a minister to get licence approved for his petro project and is well aware of the fact that the minister is a clean man. The nervous yet confident Guru sits face to face with the minister and puts across that a relative had left behind a gift for the minister and that he has no idea where to deliver or what to do with it. Hmm...I heard Dhiru had something similar to offer to Rajiv Gandhi in the name of mommy Indira Gandhi. Now... isnt this turning a true fiction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;On a more serious note, in three hours Abhishek has managed to convey a stong message that w "It happens only in India". In the movie, Guru runs a textile factory that has foreign investors and middle-class share holders who have invested in the company. The factory produces Goods that is thrice its actual capacity. Nanaji-Mithun da, hits the nail on the head with the dialogue: "Tumhari khaas baat yah hain ki tum dimakh or zaban ek saath chalathe ho". This is exactly what takes him to the heights of glory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;So, besides going ga ga only over Guru, I also noticed the aging Aishwarya who portrays Sujatha, a hindustani nari, who stands by her husband on any given day. Unlike her other movies, her presence in Guru is absolutely nill. Her onscreen presence is not felt and neither are her dialogues catchy. Her plunging-wide backcut blouses may have left some drooling but that apart Sujatha is a plain character that has no colour nor depth.  Mani Ratnam's effort to make her look a young 'gaon-ki-chori' with her lehenga's and then show her coming off age with silk sarees and gajra around her hairbunch has hardly made any impact. Even while dancing in the rain or sitting beside her husband and doing a vox-pop, she hardly creates magic on the screen. Maybe its those days when a certain age shows and there's nothing much the make-up man can change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Madhavan on the other hand shows a lot more energy, it might well have to do with the journalistic role he portrays. But overall, he is something to look out for as he slyly takes away the momentum from Abhishek for a few minutes. The scene where he visits the Shakti factory and questions Guru's mama on the company details  just left everyone in the theatre with a wide open mouth. Meenu-Vidya Balan, looked to me like a time wasting tactic. Even writing a couple of lines on the character would make this reading a unnecessary drag. Mithun da obviously plays the second best role. The part where he pulls his editor for having accepted a bribe from Guru Kant Desai and publishing articles in favour of Guru gets the real journalist in him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;And finally to the climax, Guru appears before of an enquiry commission for a hearing against him on charges of corruption. The scene that was captured in one single shot completely fails to satisfy the audience (or ME) who expected Guru to pass some whacky dialogues that would put our corrupt officials to shame. However, he lets the entire movie tumble in that fifteen-minute explanation where he explains to the commission his story of having made way from rags to riches which was anyway what the movie showed rather than he having to go over it all again. He explains that he did everything from kicking those who had to be and feeding those that had to be fed. Justified? In a way, but what is with the perception that everything is acceptable when you talk in terms of `janta ka aadmi' or 'aam aadmi' or `a middle class entrepreneur' out to help the public and raise the standards of middle class. Well... if that is what it takes for a middle class to reach for the stars then we should drop the judiciary and let the Guru's be!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33843944-116897158771319387?l=dannieopines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/feeds/116897158771319387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33843944&amp;postID=116897158771319387' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/116897158771319387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/116897158771319387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/2007/01/missing-something-guru.html' title='Missing something Guru?'/><author><name>Dhanya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15673985176563136771</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-33843944.post-115737877347505209</id><published>2006-09-04T07:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T07:17:02.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A warm welcome indeed!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;After days of serious negotiations with well-wishers like dad, mom and sis, i finally decided to visit home last week. With this, my vow not to visit home ever again came crashing down, forcing me to accept defeat at the hands of my family. In a bid to put the bad memories behind, i gracefully accepted the invitation (putforth by my neice) and left on a wednesday night after completing a couple of reporting assignments that hardly took any time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Railways failed to offer me a seat and hence i chose the next best economic mode of transport- the bus. One hour in the bus and i decided never to travel by an A/C bus ever again. I literally froze, thanks to the kerchief like blanket. Just when i began to warm myself with a denim jacket and get some sleep, the lights went on and the conductor tapped me indicating it was time to get down. It was 4 am and there i was standing, shivering and chattering. The autowala demanded Rs 140 almost double the actual rate. After bargaining for a good ten minutes he finally agreed for Rs 70 but not before taking an elderly couple along who were to get down on the way.With the 100 ft road dug up for flyover construction, the driver took us through narrow and unfamiliar lanes scaring the hell out of me. My mind kept wandering, thinking about all the possibile crimes that could happen. Finally, after twenty minutes of breathtaking ride, i reached my destination and hit the sack right away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Next day it was time for a long chat with mom and convince her that this time around my purpose of visiting home was not friends but family. My neice, the two and a half year old brat, was all smiles on seeing me. The day was peaceful and home food never tasted this good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;But things dint remain the same, Friday was a fateful day. Getting up late is quite acceptable at home and hence i over slept. Later, it was time to complete some formalities of filling up a few forms for my neice's nursery admission. It was already 2 pm and my stomach was growling. Mom was yet to cook, but i decided to wait and have home food as i knew i would soon be deprived of it for the next few months. But luck had it otherwise, we ran out of LPG and hence not a vegetable was boiled. The next minute i took the bike and headed towards a hotel to pack some yum food. However, it was not a jolly good ride, as my mind kept wavering about some unpleasant incidents a few days prior to that. Somehow, i managed to enter the colony gate without a glitch and saw a herd of school students who occupied the entire road. Honking my way through i managed to reach a little further, telling myself to watch out for these little ones on the road. An accident was the last thing i wanted. Just then a girl, walking an inch ahead of my bike, onto my right side turned abruptly and crossed the road. Losing control of the bike and realizing i was going to knock her, i applied the brakes taking complete left, lost balance, skid and glided a good 10 feet and the bike came tumbling down on my foot. With this the trip not only became unpleasant i also had to go through a few tortures of taking shots and gulping yukky drugs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33843944-115737877347505209?l=dannieopines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/feeds/115737877347505209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33843944&amp;postID=115737877347505209' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/115737877347505209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/115737877347505209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/2006/09/warm-welcome-indeed.html' title='A warm welcome indeed!!!'/><author><name>Dhanya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15673985176563136771</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-33843944.post-115737884901410262</id><published>2006-09-04T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T07:16:06.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Water Privatisation</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;"Most universities are seriously considering abandoning coke after it created such a massive campaign": Alan Sitow&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;By Dhanya Lakshmanan&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;CHENNAI:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Most colleges and universities in the United States are planning to boycott the use of Coca-cola in the wake of the crisis involving the company and the Kerala Government, said Alan Sitow, a documentary film maker from US.&lt;br /&gt;He spoke to a group of environmentalists, corporates and social activists at the screening of his documentary, `Thirst', at Loyola c&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5819/2183/1600/Dorah-Kaufman-n-Alton1.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5819/2183/320/Dorah-Kaufman-n-Alton1.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ollege on Thursday. Sitow said that the massive strike campaign against the soft drink company, Coco-cola, in Palakkad has led to numerous debates across America. "Most of them are seriously considering abandoning coke after it created such a massive campaign," he said.&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, his co-director Deborah Kaufman spoke about water privatisation and said that it was painstaking to see the most important natural resource in the world being sold to corporate companies in the name of globalisation. The 62-minute film is about the agitation campaigns against the same in Bolivia, California and India.&lt;br /&gt;Sitow and Deborah Kaufman were in the city to screen their documentary. The short film has created a shock wave in America. This is the first time the film has been screened outside the US. The film also shows images from the World Water Forum 2003, in Kyota, Japan. The forum included politicians, international bankers and corporate executives who were present to decide on who will take control over water supplies. Meanwhile, experts and environmentalists from across the world accused the forum of acting against people's will. Every activist present said that water is a human commodity and not a material that has to be traded in an open market.&lt;br /&gt;The film focuses on the Bolivian campaign against their government that was planning to privatise water. The protest march and violence that followed in Bolivia on the matter, forced the Bolivian government to acknowledge the people's demand. The only Indian in the film, opposing privatisation was Rajendra Singh, a social activist from Rajasthan.&lt;br /&gt;The documentary also highlights the citizen coalition of Stockton, California which questioned the government's plan of selling water to private companies. Hundreds gathered on the streets, holding banners reading, `Let the people vote' and `Do not sell water', pushed the tempo of the film further.&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, Dr V Suresh, General Secretary of People's Union For Civil Liberties (PUCL), Tamil Nadu and Pondicherry, said that America is thinking of new methods of carrying water and selling it. "New techniques are being propelled to transport water from places like Canada to Southern American cities by using a material that looks more like the enlarged version of a condom, and is also made of rubber," he said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33843944-115737884901410262?l=dannieopines.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/feeds/115737884901410262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=33843944&amp;postID=115737884901410262' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/115737884901410262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/33843944/posts/default/115737884901410262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dannieopines.blogspot.com/2006/09/water-privatisation.html' title='Water Privatisation'/><author><name>Dhanya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15673985176563136771</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></feed>
