Saturday, November 10, 2007

Stop Being Greedy and You'll Make More Money? really ?

Stop Being Greedy and You'll Make More Money

I dont know wether the below theory applies to life in general may be it does ......

I guess if you keep doing what you are passionate about ...then the chances are you will do more rights and less wrongs and hence do great in the long run.......atleast even if doesnt work out you would still hit a 90 on the happiness and self satisfaction scale

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Friday, June 22, 2007

Chubby Cheeks Dimple Chin

Its pretty hard for one to come and start banging on the keyboard to come up with a half decent blogpost on something even barely interesting (er..remotely if i may add).

Well lemme try recollecting what i have been upto today.......

As usual most of the time at office was spent on firefighting , london bridge and all associated paraphernalia was falling down or god-damn them...were buring in all their glory.

Nero, as usual was fiddling while I was burning :-)

But then i guess this comes as the package from mephist0pheles................

Monday, June 18, 2007

Advertising Age - MediaWorks - CNN the TV Channel Is No Match for CNN the Website

Advertising Age - MediaWorks - CNN the TV Channel Is No Match for CNN the Website

Silly simply down and out thoughts on the way to building the murdochian empire :-)

Well the last bit of the headline was a madeup .....
A madeup to hide the dissapointment..the heart wrenching pain and angst

Hmm thats too much of a melodramatic shag .....

But it wasnt too easy to let her go .....

When all along you know that this road jus leads to where you dont wanna go , then why ?

Why the fuck ?

It's so sad to be alone
No one cares for no one's home
So if you're there
Pick up the phone
Cos I'm standing on my own

Ain't it good to know you're right
And don't it soothe (suit) the darker nights
But pretty soon it will be light
Ain't it good to know you're right

But I'm standing on my own
And this house is not a home
It's so sad to see you go
Things are high, things are low
And it's good to know you know
If you got nowhere to go
And you could spend the night with me
I will sleep on the settee

It's so sad to be alone
No one cares cos no one's home
So if you're there
Pick up the phone
Because I'm standing on my own
Because I'm standing on my own

Yeah there you go on another lyrical suicide .........

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Saturday, March 24, 2007

How to get into the elite leagues ?

There is something about elitism that captures the fancy of our minds.....the elusive social clubs, the memebership in a certain association, and for a lot of Indians like me getting admitted to the right schools and universities..allthese things play an important role on your success.

Or does it ?

In this interesting take by Malcolm Gladwell discusses the social and racial considerations that the Ivy league schools have been adopting for the last few decades to maintain the 'luxury-brand' 'Elitist' brand equity.

Factors such as physical features, race, religious beliefs, amongst others are digged out, by the admissions board to assure themselves that they have brought on board the right candidate.

More dope here ....

La-Z-boy Feat Jassim

Had quite an eventful start to the week with the OMD Masterclass, on which i plan to blog seperately along with the few other interesting encounters of the week .

But then the apparent laziness and the inherent weakness of mine as well as of the rest of the larger web community to be a passive consumer and observer of whats happening around us seemed to get the better of me.

Hence this pre emptive post before i take a well deserved shower to slump off my weekend slothiness and a bad case of cold.

do i make any sense here ?

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

try 'digesting' that !

Ok its not a verfied fact that its a saudi party ....but i got to give it em for such a voracious appetite.

Could it be a brontosaurus biriyani ? ;P

Saturday, March 17, 2007

A phone from google ?

Well well well ..... Now what do we have here ?

Google getting into consumer electronics ?

After a very limited exposure to the hardware scene(through its enterprise search tools) google is now looking interested in the mobile phone/Smartphone sector....apparently they have hired a top notch team and are operating out of spain on a C++/Linux platform based mobile device.

More dope here

Not really sure wether this is the actual thing :-), but if thats how it looks then they got a long way to go .....

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Was looking for some more plant trivia but came across this one ... from here

Smoke On The Water
, by Deep Purple was written on December 4, 1971 in Montreux, Switzerland. They were recording their album at the Casino when a fan shot a flare gun at the ceiling and fire broke out. The title referred to the smoke from the fire spreading over Lake Geneva from the burning casino as the members of the band watched from their hotel across the lake. SOTW is commonly the first song learned by many beginner guitarists. In fact, the song is so popular that one famous guitar store in London used to sport a sign on the wall reading "If auditioning a guitar, please refrain from playing 'Smoke on the Water,' as this is causing our staff mental torture." True story.

Will Someone Please Explain How God Made Robert Plant ?

Thats all i got to say after being treated to an out of the world performance by Robert Plant and the Strange Sensations at the Dubai Desert Rock Festival.

The way this guy performs is a complete out of the world experience with the on the spot improvisations of classics such as 'baby im gonna leave you' and 'whole lotta love' by blending it with a heady mix of middle eastern beats as well as other world music inspirations that plant and the rest of the band has been adopting since ages.

Although a lot of people left the venue after the Incubus and the Bravery, for the people who hung on for that little while it was the gig of their lifetime.

One of those rare moments where I wish i was born much earlier so that i could have seen the Led Zeppelin line up in their full glory.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Dictator 2.0

So saddam's gone .....stalin,mao,hitler,pol pot, pinochet,and mussolini along with some of their other illustrious colleagues are resting somewhere on the earths crust ......

So what would the next generation of them look like ?

Pin striped ?

or the camouflaged quasi soldier ?

Check out this interesting piece omn Qantara

Friday, February 16, 2007

Found this rather inspiring story .....

'The Last Wolf'
from Parables from Other Planets
by Hugh and Gayle Prather

Added 19 April 1997

Mashesta could not understand why he had been chosen to kill the last wolf. He was not yet a grown man. It was not fair. But Cintosh had called him before the Council and told him he must do it. Cintosh, who had tried to save the wolves, who had spoken interminably about the need for wolves. Cintosh the ancient, Cintosh the forgetful, Cintosh the obtuse. Mashesta packed lightly. This should not be too difficult. The last wolf was old now. It should not take him more than a few days to track it down and shoot it. He hated what was left of the forest. Another of Cintosh's pets-the forest. Mashesta looked forward to the day when the old man died and progress could be resumed.

The diffused light of the forest always bothered Mashesta, as if shadows from some netherworld still existed there. But the netherworld had been banished years ago. It no longer existed except in the minds of a few old men. And perhaps in the mind of one old wolf.

For three days now Mashesta had caught glimpses of the wolf, but just as he sighted with his rifle, the wolf would disappear. The third night he camped near a pond, and, watching the embers of his fire, he seemed to drift off to sleep, for suddenly, whether in dream or in fact, the wolf came into the clearing. It stood before him, its eyes boring into his, and then it spoke.

"So, Mashesta, you have come to kill me. I am ready to die, but not die from a distance at the cold hands of that insentient stick. It is the weapon of a coward. If you are to take me, it must be fang against fang, blood against blood, strength against strength."

"Why are you ready to die?" asked Mashesta.

As if not hearing him, the wolf continued. "Not only must you kill me in this way, but you must also cut out my heart while it still beats and devour it. Our blood must mingle, our breath must fill each other's lungs. Only then will I die. And only then will you truly live."

"You are trying to trick me," answered Mashesta. "You would easily defeat me in that kind of fight."

"You have your knife. That is sufficient, for I repeat to you that I am ready to die. I am alone here. I have no fear of death, but I do have a love of this forest. I would leave it my grandeur and my freedom."

"I am not the one to do this thing," pleaded Mashesta.

"But you are the one who is here; therefore you are the one. There still beats within your heart the remembrance of the wild, the unattached, the unquenched. And you must not let it die. For if you do, man will continue to feed upon his own soul as well as the souls of others."

"Then why don't I let you live and return to my village and say that I could not find you. I could say that you are already dead."

"Then you would live and die with deceit. This moment is not an accident. Why do you think the wolves have been killed? Because they interfered with man's plans for the wilderness? No! They have been killed because they reminded men of that which was noble, that which was free, that which could not be bought and paid for. You need me more than I need you. But because this is the land of my ancestors, I offer you this gift: my heart, which will unite with yours and lead you away from the awful numbness of what you call progress. But if you stand apart from me and kill me from the distance that you believe separates us, then man will never again know what it feels like to ride the wild winds of passion. Not the passion of the flesh, for that he has ridden too long, but the passion of a soul that honors its roots in wilderness."

"I cannot possibly do this. I am afraid to fight with hands that have no claws, with a mouth that has no fangs. A mere knife does not make up for this."

"Yet I am not afraid," said the wolf, "and it is I who must die."

"But the outcome is not certain. You might kill me. Why should I trust you?"

"This is what you do not yet understand," said the wolf. "You think that to have no attachments is to be uncommitted. You think that to embrace the wilderness is to be unprincipled. Yet, unlike men, a wolf has honor. He cares for his young and never abandons his mate. To protect his pack, he will lay down not only his self interests but his life."

Mashesta woke before dawn, strangely disturbed, and as he stirred the coals of his night's fire, he vowed to find the wolf and shoot it before the day ended. There was something about this task that made him want to complete it and return to civilization quickly.

It was near the pond that Mashesta saw it. Larger than he had imagined, covered in the matted fur of one who has too long lived alone. And it was still. Mashesta raised his rifle and brought the wolf into his sights. The wolf was watching him, he could feel its eyes looking fearlessly into the barrel of his weapon. He longed to pull the trigger and be done with this deed. To carry the wolf's carcass back to the village in triumph. To resume his real life.

But he could not fire, and the wolf began to advance upon him. He felt sweat break out over his brow. His heart battered his chest like a caged enemy. His breath sawed through his mouth with the hard bursts of air that do not replenish the lungs. At the last moment, before the wolf sprang, Mashesta threw down his rifle, unsheathed his knife, and, with the scream of one who acts from long acquaintance with his limitations, leaped and met the wolf in midair.

At the start there seemed no hope that Mashesta would emerge victorious that he would do no more than die ignominiously under the fangs of this beast. But somehow the wolf's mouth never reached his vitals. And gradually Mashesta sensed a weariness in the wolf and a strength in himself that he had not felt before. Now he fought with renewed courage, or rather, with new courage, for he had never experienced this emotion. He did not hate the wolf, rather he hated his own timidity, and as he drove his knife deep into the wolf's throat and severed its lines of breath, he breathed in the intoxicating air of fearlessness. Without thinking, as the wolf twitched in death, Mashesta cut open its chest and tore its heart from its body and thrust it into his own mouth. Blood poured from his lips, from his wounds, and from the wounds of the wolf. There was hair in his nostrils, in his mouth, in his belly.

Mashesta stood for a moment trembling, not with fear, but with knowledge. He stumbled to the pond and threw himself into its icy depths. And when he emerged he was whole. For a long while he stood looking at the body of the wolf. He no longer needed to carry it triumphantly back to the village to prove his manhood and his courage. In fact he now realized that to treat the wolf in this manner would be to degrade it and dishonor the lesson it had taught. Mashesta did not have the implements to dig a grave and knew that the wolf had no need of burial, but he lifted the body and carried it to a place within the bosom of the trees that he knew the wolf had loved. Then he laid it gently on the ground and covered it with leaves and with the soft vegetation of the forest floor.

When he returned to the village, Mashesta spoke to no one, but went directly to Cintosh. He stood quietly before his ancient leader and smiled with great affection. "Cintosh, father of our welfare," he said, "you will be happy to know that the wolves will live forever."

Friday, January 12, 2007


technically where am i headed ?
whats the latitude and longitude of where i'am?
do i wait for another hour or two so that i can catch the early bus back ?

how did i deal with the recent reality bites that life took at me .....
did i stand up and pass with the flying colors or did i stand by as life passed by my side.....

and is it really a good idea to go through all this adolescent diarrehea in this public blog ?

oh ...screw it

Bulldozer ?

Well what do you call someone who has overcome extreme grief and sort of a dead end of a relationship and yet managed to wetnurse a blue blooded arsehole of her majesty's order who happens to be if not manages to be both arrogant and dumb at the same time (therefore potentially toxic and dangerous to the public at large).

Its gets even more interesting when the "blue blooded arsehole of her majesty's order who happens to be if not manages to be both arrogant and dumb at the same time (therefore potentially toxic and dangerous to the public at large)" happens to one of your close friends ;-)

Ok so returning to our initial question.......

What do you call her ?

Ok i've got more than enough names to throw around ......

Sindhi Cow ( At the risk of pissing off an entire community of enterprising desi's )

Skidmarks on the underpants of the society ( Love this one from ben stiller !)

Gunjatrix ( My own obsessive gaelic complusivix )

but today i jus got one word to describe her .....

The Bulldozer !

keep mowing down all those twits who are out their to stamp out your little joy's !

Let them go to an altaf raja concert for all i care !

But you will get what you want ......else apun hain na !

Tapka daloonga !

Sunday, January 07, 2007


I gave me away
I could have knocked off the evening
But I lonelily landed my waltz in her hands
In a way I felt you were leaving me
I was sure I wouldn't find you at home
And you let me down
You could have knocked off the evening
But you lonelily let him push under your bone
You let me down
It's no use deceiving
Neither of us wanna be alone

You're coming home, you're coming home

I gave me away
I could have knocked off the evening
But I was lonelily looking for someone to hold
In a way I lost all I believed in
And I never found myself so low
And you let me down
You could've called if you'd needed
But you lonelily got yourself locked in instead
And you let me down
It's one thing being cheated
But you took him all the way through your bed

And now you're coming home
And I'm trying to forgive
You're coming home
And I'm trying to forget
You're coming home
And I'm trying to move on
You're coming home
And you haven't called yet

You're coming home
And I'm trying to forgive
You're coming home
I'm just trying to forget
You're coming home
I'm trying to move on
You're coming home
But you haven't called
You're coming home

You're coming home, you're coming home

I gave me away
I could have knocked off the evening
But I lonelily loomed her into my bone
You let me down
There's no use deceiving
Neither of us wanna be alone