tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54274542024-03-12T17:00:02.861-07:00Really clever title.My friend told me that that that that that teacher had written on the blackboard was spelt incorrectly.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.comBlogger104125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1152470664542225772006-07-09T11:38:00.000-07:002006-07-09T11:44:24.556-07:00Hello Again WorldOh sweet reader. At long last and after many trials and much pointless tribulation it has come to pass. The purveyor of this tiny bit of digital domain has moved on to graze on the other side. You don't have to cross a mighty ocean, a broad river or even a tiny brook to get to him. Nay, all you need do is click <a href="http://arunjeetsingh.livejournal.com">here</a>. Rejoice o' reader of this long standing bit of digital daftness for Mr. FortyOne now lives on live journal. Fare thee well blogger.com, one of Le Google's most disappointing creation to date.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1152208301610978892006-07-06T10:39:00.000-07:002006-07-06T10:51:41.676-07:00Blogger is SpentSalutations! After having held out a long long time I am now seriously comtemplating the thought of moving my dear dirty thoughts to <a href="http://arunjeetsingh.livejournal.com/">livejournal</a>. Yes, that's right dear 2.5 readers, I am thinking of making a move to LJ. In no particular order, following are the pretexts I shall be using for my move:<br /><ul> <li>all my friends are on zee elle jay</li> <li>the comment system on blogger sucketh like stinky dog hindquarters. LJ offers forum like threaded goodness. Mmmmmmmmm...</li> <li>LJ is now almost as customisable as ye blogspot. I can carry mein beloved layout with me.</li> <li>I can turn up on people's friend pages and annoy them all I want</li> <li>LJ offers more programming goodness. I get to write cool tools that only I use!</li> </ul> Thats all I can think of for now. I promise you that any serious comments on the matter will be given due consideration. Which is to say they will be completely ignored. Also, disclaimer time, I might just end up being lazy and not do this. Anybody who pulls me up for not doing this doesn't know me well enough to pull me up for not doing anything.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1151876766230530912006-07-02T14:01:00.000-07:002006-07-02T14:46:06.323-07:00The Life and Times of One Mister Forty OneSo I notice that these blog posts are becoming kind of a weekly thing. Don't think this is some sort of <em>routine</em> though. I still haven't completely defined that word for myself. The last post ended with me having a puncture. Because I have nothing substantial to do at the moment I shall regale you with what happened next. Maybe the tepidity of my life will inspire you to live yours more interestingly.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/1600/100_1986_small.jpg"></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/1600/100_1986_small.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/320/100_1986_small.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>For the record, that's a picture of my new car. Not a very good picture mind you, but notice how good it looks even in that bad picture. I am smitten. The next day I couldn't really go get the puncture fixed. It was wednesday you see, and apparently all the markets in my area stay closed on that day. You wouldn't believe how depressed a flat tyre can make you feel. You wouldn't believe it until it happened to <strong>your</strong> brand new car. Anyway, thursday evening I get back home and promptly bully the local tyre-wallah into coming down to my house with a pressure jack. The tyre detached, we go down to his workshop and he hands me a 3-inch screw that has apparently travelled right through the tyre tube. Screwed by a screw. The irony in the air is so palpable I could churn it into buttermilk. As I contemplate the screw my good friend the puncture guy silently labors away at fixing my tyre. His business concluded, I pay him and we troop down to my place to re-install the tyre. That done, profuse thanks are issued and much admiration/information concerning the new car exchanged. He gives me his views on the new car and kindly tells me that the model I bought is probably going to be phased out soon. I (not so kindly) tell him that when he has his own money, maybe he can buy the "new" model and park it up his driveway. As I walk into the house I can't help but wonder whether telling the guy from the local workshop that I own a new car and then showing him its location might have been a good idea. Dissing his opinion on my purchase might even have kindled hatred in his heart for my kind soul. Yes, I am paranoid. No, I don't trust people.<br /><br />The next morning my dad tells that the tyre's gone flat again. I am, for lack of a better word, bamboozled! There and then, I decide to wage a personal jehad against the bloody workshop wallah. Can't believe I called him my good friend in the last paragraph. Vengeance must be extracted. Knowing that I'll get back home late in the evening I ask my father to give him hell and let him know that this will not go unpunished. The wrath of a thousand disgruntled accent owners be upon him! I shall have my revenge.<br /><br />I come back home a bit tipsy the next morning. The fact that I've had about 8 pints of beer doesn't stop me checking the tyre for non-flatness. True to his promise, my father has gotten it fixed. On second thoughts though, maybe getting down on my knees and actually touching the tyre was a bit too much checking. I might even have yelled out an impromptu hallelujah. The people who dropped me off sure seemed to think that (or maybe they didn't see it at all). Nevertheless, I go to sleep a sound, happy and thoroughly drunk man.<br /><br />The next day I am rudely awoken by my phone. I promised to meet a friend who's here from out of town. We meet up, beer is drunk and KFC is had. Car showing off commences and results in rides (although no drives) offered by myself and accepted by others. Much happiness. No flat tyres and zero smoking bonnets make the world a nicer, happier place. I drive home preparing for a life-changing (or should I say life-threatening) moment that is soon to come: Pun23's engagement party. More on that in the next post because its 3.10am on a Sunday morning. I really shouldn't make that promise though. It is quite likely I won't manage to get anything out for a long time. But hey, I've got no editor and you've got plenty of time to waste. Do I look bothered?Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1151435625813406112006-06-27T11:32:00.000-07:002006-06-27T12:13:45.886-07:00Choice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/1600/guinness_ad.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/320/guinness_ad.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Choice can be a good thing. Like when you walk into a bar or a pub and find 30 different kinds of beer on tap. Choice can also be a bad thing. Like when you order your favourite drink off the menu of a restaurant knowing full well that they're going to come back with "It's not available at the moment sir." Seriously, what is it with Delhi restaurants and the lack of Guinness? (On that note, <a href="http://www.amvbbdo.co.uk/tv_video/Guiness_surfer.mov">this</a> has to be my favorite Guiness commercial) Delhi needs more choice in beer. I'm tired of Kingfisher and Sandpiper. I can't stand the insipid, uninspiring Castle lager. No, I will not drink any of the extra strong types! Excise department, beer barons of the world, get to it!<br /><br />Buying a car used to be an easy thing to do. You made sure you could afford it and then you went down the closest Maruti dealership and picked out your favourite color. If you were middle-class you ended up with a Maruti 800. The slightly upper middle-class got themselves a Zen and the hoity toity types could go for the Maruti "Esteem".<br /><br />Well those days are gone. Choice and car loans have done away with the simple process I just described. Now there's more than one car for every budget type, sometimes from the same manufacturer. And then there are the variants for each car. These vary by the size of the engine, the type of the engine (diesel or petrol), even the number of valves in the engine! For some reason, the perfect package is always a breath away from what you can afford. Of course, with the availability of car loans, what you can afford isn't exactly easy to decide either.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/1600/wallpaper_01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/320/wallpaper_01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Having overcome all these obstacles I finally managed to buy myself a car. Its a Hyundai Accent. Black. The cheapest model they had. I had to play deaf and blind to various people at various times to finally be able to settle on this one car. I'm sure they all had my best interests at heart. But I had to make a choice damm it! And this is what I want. As I drove into the petrol pump hailed by a chorus of hurrahs and congratulations (okay, so it was just that one guy) a couple of idiots chose the opportune moment to show me a few teeny tiny (read 3 cms. exactly) scratches on the front fender. Thank you, you frigging idiots. For your next act, why don't you cut each other's heads off Daniel Pearle style.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/1600/maruti-800002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/320/maruti-800002.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I'm cool though. I'm the cool customer who bought the black accent. Of course the old dog (my Maruti 800) needed to be driven home too. As I drive home ye olde battered jalopy (with my dad driving the spanking new acquisition) the poor old thing croaks. No, croaks isn't a good enough word. It smokes. Plumes of grey wispy stuff spew out of the sides of the hood. So I stop, work up the courage to open up the bonnet and am greeted by some more of the aforementioned smoke. I figure all it needs is some water. Its 44 degrees, I know I need water, so it must too. My dad parks and walks back to take a look. We agree on my brilliant prognosis.<br /><br />Just then, Mr. Arsehole Mechanic From Race Car Care stops by on his crap ass scooter with half an engine and tells us that no, it doesn't need water. What it needs is the fan hardwired. And he promptly proceeds to do the same. When you're hot and sweaty, idiots look intelligent. Must be some sort of mirage effect. We pay him and he promply "scoots" off. I start the engine, put the jalopy into first and give it a little gas. It moves forward exactly 6 inches and promptly dies. Three more attempts yield another few feet. Of course, home being a good 6 kms. away doesn't help much. In comes another mechanic (I still think this was some sort of conspiracy). This one doesn't even posess engined transportation. No, he's on a bicycle. This time I am adamant that we feed the poor old thing (the car you idiot!) some water. So we do, and after a bit of fiddling on the unmotorized mechanic's part it appears to break the 2 meter barrier. Huzzah! We're off and home. I miss an office party. No worries. I'm still cool. In a sweltering 40 degrees sort of way.<br /><br />Today, I drove my new car to the office. Much showing off. As much showing off as you can do in a dimly lit basement garage that is. I reach home driving more carefully than usual. Taking the longest route possible just so I can avoid the rowdy traffic. Get home. Dad shows up and says he sees a puncture. I go down and look and there is indeed a distinct flattening on one of the circular rubber appendages. Still cool. In a must get the puncture fixed, <a href="http://www.bridgestone.com/">bridgestone</a> is crap, japs must die sort of way.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1149452490259480552006-06-04T12:52:00.000-07:002006-06-04T13:31:26.640-07:00Random RecollectionsThis is exactly what the title says its going to be so if you're looking for structure, I suggest you navigate away now. Right, that said, there's a lot of blogworthy stuff I've been going through. None of it deserves its own post though. Okay, so most of it is only blog worthy to me. It is my blog though. You still here? Remember what I said about structure? You have been warned. Twice.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.anneheche.com/ImGal/Theatre/5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.anneheche.com/ImGal/Theatre/5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>They've been showing <a href="http://www.anneheche.com/">Anne Heche</a> (people really shouldn't have the sort of surnames you have to google to get right) movies on TV the past couple of nights. That makes me happy. Yes, I know she's a lesbian. But I heard somewhere that she veers between a lesbian and a bisexual. Thats plenty for me. I won't even confirm that rumor lest it turn out to be exactly that, a rumour. Anyway, as you can probably tell from this bit, I really like Anne Heche. I still can't figure out how she manages to make that raspy (and extremely stimulating) voice out of that petite frame of hers. To top all that, she's a very talented actress. Ahh...yes, she is definitely on my people I like list.<br /><br />Air India has the best food inflight. That is if you're an Indian. If you're not, then you're royally screwed. I suggest packing sandwiches and wafers. The booze is decent though, even in economy. The service overall is abysmal. They've got planes they bought/leased from some airline in Korea flying on the Delhi-London-NY route! Now you might think thats not so bad, except the Exit signs are in English and Korean and the plane's inflight entertainment system consists of a projector mounted up front. Exactly like one of those video coach volvos you get these days. Of course this is an economy seat view we're talking about.<br /><br />Things actually might be marginally better in first class. And boy do they let you know you're in economy. The tattered curtain separating economy from first has a little piece of tissue paper stuck to it that says "First Class"! Heh, right, of course. Did I mention the food was great? Yes, right, keep saying that to yourself while you're checking in, staying at an airport hotel over a 12-hour delay and while you wait 25 minutes for a glass of water. Oh, and while you sit in the plane for an hour waiting for the more important flights to take off. On IGI airport! The home of Air India. Hurray for being served by government babus while flying. I just hope they outsourced the piloting to a private company or something :)<br /><br />Okay, enough ranting. I can see Anne on screen and she does look great. Dammit I'm in love with this woman, despite a publicly espoused anti-blonde stance (whatever that means). I should tell you that when the 12 hour late Air India flight landed in Delhi the lady with the mike announced that it was 41 minutes past 8. Those in the know will understand why I found myself sniggering away like a lunatic. Those not in the know probably think I am a lunatic. But thats a risk I take everytime I step out of the confines of my home, so thats alright. You can still navigate away you know. I haven't figured out yet how to use Javascript to hold a person in place. Not yet. Oh, and she goes braless a lot. Anne Heche I mean. I'm sorry, I can't help but comment on what I see. Women's lib be damned (I do not live at my home and my parents don't know who I am. I am not Arun. Otherwise known as !Arun).<br /><br />Delhi's gone mall crazy. I say that with the experience of a man who's been thrown out of (translated as politely refused) parking at 3 parking lots on a single Sunday night. Its so strange going into a mall, seeing it full and yet seeing all the shops empty. About 20% of the shops haven't even opened yet. Right now, Delhiites are in the bit in mall-goer evolution where everybody just goes to the mall in the evening to take their evening walk. On sundays, going to the mall is the equivalent of heading to India Gate in our times (yes, I am old enough to use the expression "our times" now. You got a problem with that??). I wonder how long it'll take to get to the time when the only people who hang around malls late on a sunday are mall rats. My guess is about a couple of years. But then it might not actually happen at all. Right, I'm done worrying about that.<br /><br />If you're still here and haven't found what you came looking for there's no point blaming me for it. I covered my hairy butt with a disclaimer. Its 1.44am in the morning and I have work tomorrow. So go away and let me get my beauty sleep (hey, quit sniggering!).Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1148568570306866092006-05-25T07:48:00.000-07:002006-05-25T07:49:57.283-07:00Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!Note the number of comments: <a href="http://www.myextralife.com/strips/05-08-2006.jpg">http://www.myextralife.com/strips/05-08-2006.jpg</a>Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1148288870040145812006-05-22T01:57:00.000-07:002006-05-22T04:02:21.010-07:00One of those things<em><span style="color:#660000;">You live, you love, you hurt and you move on</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">You go through each day hoping its the best one</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">But you know you don't want to live through your best day yet</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">Not while you're alone</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">not until someone you want to have met</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">has had the chance to change your life</span></em><br /><br />Introspection is one of those things that seems very meaningful in a metaphysical sense, but probably isn't. You think about your life, the things you've done. You think you're sorting through your feelings and trying to understand why things in your life are the way they are. Then destiny/fate/god comes along and smashes your sand castle to smithereens and you wonder for an instant: was all the time you spent analysing your life worth it? Still, the next time you're alone and in a reflective mood, you can't help but go over the previous day, week or year thinking about your friends, family, that girl in the office, your last assignment or your job.<br /><br />With so many of us having so much to think and reflect over, I sometimes wonder how we even manage to get on with our lives. But get on we do. Bumping into each other every day, sometimes acknowledging and at other times ignoring each other's presence. Evaluating and sizing each other up every instant based on our own peculiar criteria. And then going back home to do it some more. In the middle of all this critical social evaluation sometimes, just sometimes, a couple of people will get close enough to each other so that they will begin to share their introspection of life. They will begin to more than talk to each other. They will share thoughts, hopes and possibly, the rest of their lives. Eventually, it'll become what the rest of us know as love. It must be a great feeling, because it looks like a great feeling when you get to observe it up close. And when people like that who you know and love decide to stay with each other for the rest of their life, its a great feeling to know that somehow, somewhere, knowingly or unknowingly, you might have had a part to play in it.<br /><br />Can't say I don't feel just a little tinge of envy. But thats also how I know it must be a good thing to have. I also feel happiness, incredible joy at being witness to something that doesn't happen very often. So this is my tribute to my friends, and to something that makes an atheist want to believe in miracles. You know who you are. Congratulations, and good luck on your new journey.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1148045558922987672006-05-19T06:28:00.000-07:002006-05-19T06:32:38.936-07:00What Are The Odds?<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/1600/news41.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/400/news41.jpg" border="0" /></a>Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1147456199994301602006-05-12T10:22:00.000-07:002006-05-12T10:50:00.126-07:00Why I Say Oui to Wii<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/1600/smb2jp2.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/320/smb2jp2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />First a confession. I'm a huge fan of Nintendo. Despite the fact that they've never actually sold their games or consoles in India officially. Despite the fact that they couldn't care less about the market here. Despite the fact that they came out with the lame-ass light gun that idiots like me bought and still own. Despite all that I love Nintendo and what they do. The way I see it any company that can take a mushroom stumping Italian plummer and make him a cult icon all over the world deserve to be loved. That at a time when game consoles didn't have processors or hard drives or internet connections. Just two people going at it in a room (read that in context pun23!). And thats the important bit, two people.<br /><br />As I've grown up video games have become less and less participative and more and more competitive. I miss games like Contra where two people could play together. Or Battle city, where you and a friend could hunt down enemy tanks and destroy them. Sometimes your friend would end up destroying the silver bird you were protecting. But thats alright, shit happens. I remember spending hours in the game arcade just standing around, watching others play and trying to learn their techniques. In a game like Street Fighter I (and many other people) weren't averse to elbowing the competition to avoid getting beaten up in the game. It was all fair play. The game was as much outside as it was inside.<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/1600/Battle-City.1.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/320/Battle-City.1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Today however, the enduring image of a gamer in most people's minds is that of a lonely geek basked in the blue glow of his television mashing away at buttons like there was no tomorrow. The same games come out again and again. Exactly how many Need For Speed titles do we need anyway? Yes, Nintendo have used Mario in almost all their games but they've all been different games. Games aren't movies. They don't have to have a format and they don't have to have a genre.<br /><br />When I first saw and heard about the Revolution controller I was surprised like everybody else. At the same time I realised how much potential something like this has. Like Sony and Microsoft, Nintendo too want to bring the gaming experience closer to reality. But they don't choose to go about it by giving you better graphics or sound. They go about it by letting you immerse yourself in the graphics and sound. And if they're a little bit less than perfect on a high definition TV that practically no one can afford, so what? The reason Wii is better than the PS3 or the XBox is the same reason a party is more fun than eating alone. People want other people. People want to talk and they want to interact with each other and in real life.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/1600/nintendo-wii-lg1.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/320/nintendo-wii-lg1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I wouldn't be surprised if Wii ends up in Gyms and sports clubs all over the world. I wouldn't even be surprised if Wii brings back old-style game arcades where people used to play standing up and you fed the machine coin after coin just to get a high score. Where there was no internet connectivity but plenty of people around if you wanted to team up. Places where gamers were people, not slaves to a machine.<br /><br />So I don't know about you but I'm saving up for Wii even though I can't stand that name. If you want to come hang out with me over the weekends, I suggest you at least invest in a controller :)Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1146236143465811692006-04-28T07:54:00.000-07:002006-04-28T07:55:43.476-07:00Wii??Why <a href="http://news.ft.com/cms/s/a8854402-d6a1-11da-b64c-0000779e2340.html">Wii</a>? I have a feeling somebody's going to wii wii on nintendo's parade. Could be me. Wii???Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1145529941629741462006-04-20T03:41:00.000-07:002006-04-20T03:45:41.640-07:00Lake District Ho!Recently took a trip to the south-east of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_District">lake district</a> national park. Photos are here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/fortyone/sets/72057594112056260/ but only accessible to "friends". I'll probably do a post about the trip if I can drag my ass away from the KFC/Beer long enough.<br /><br />Be well and have a joy-joy day.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1143661738154035912006-03-29T11:00:00.000-08:002006-03-29T11:48:58.316-08:00Mount Abu 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.flickr.com/51/114559997_370e9ed79f.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://static.flickr.com/51/114559997_370e9ed79f.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>So I took a trip to Mount Abu recently. Actually it was more like a week and a half ago but I've been too lazy to write about till now. Now I've decided to do a detailed account just so I can remember the journey later. I've also decided to serialize it to make it easier for me to write it out. Pictures <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/fortyone/sets/72057594085360721/">here</a>. These don't contain the family photos though. Ask me to add you as a friend if you want to see those. So here goes.<br /><br />The decision to go to Mount Abu was definitely an impulsive one. Having seen practically all the hill stations close to Delhi (Shimla, Kasauli, Nainital et al) I was in no mood for more of the same. So we (me and my family) decided we'd go someplace different this time. We thought of Kashmir but everybody just kept giving us grief over the terrorists. We thought of the North East but it would've taken too long to get there. Finally, exasperated and out of options, we settled for Mount Abu.<br /><br />Mount Abu's always had this allure for me. Not because I've been there or even heard about it, but only because I've come close to going there at least three times but never made it. This time though I booked us tickets even before I asked for a leave from work. Indian Railways really shouldn't make it so easy to book tickets online. Anyway, the search for hotel reservations began. Mount Abu, like any touristy hill station in this country, has loads of hotels. Problem is, they all want to get paid in advance when booking. Mostly when I make a booking I do show up, but unless I've seen the place before I don't like paying in advance. After all, the brochures will always contain photographs of the best rooms won't they. Besides, you can't tell what a room smells like from its picture. So no bookings then. I decided to play adventurous/skirt danger/tempt fate/finger the devil (ok, I'll stop now) on this one.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.flickr.com/55/114560460_4eaae0318b.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://static.flickr.com/55/114560460_4eaae0318b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>The ride to the train station was pretty uneventful except for one detail. We got to hear loads of <a href="http://media.santabanta.com/newsite/cinemascope/images/himesh_big.jpg">this</a> guy. A detail I chose to ignore at the time (although at my own peril as I later realised). If you don't know who the guy is I am going to spare you the grief by NOT telling you who he is. The train station we went to was Old Delhi. That quaint little edifice (compared to New Delhi anyway) that always reminds me of a small town railway station. What was surprising was that it actually looked kind of clean. Guess Lalu's been doing his job after all. The air conditioner in the train was a bit noisy but not so bad that we couldn't sleep. The bit I really like about train journies though is the people you meet. True to form there was a zimbabwean (a Muslim of Indian descent) headed for Ahmedabad to see his grandfather's city and a German couple headed for Pushkar via Ajmer. A little bit of polite chit chat and some impromptu photography done we got ready to sleep.<br /><br />The train got to Abu Road, which is the closest thing railway station to Mount Abu, at 10 in the morning. It was about 10 minutes late. But going by northern railways' previous track record this was actually a pretty good time. When I'd made the booking I thought that Abu Road would be just that: a station by the highway leading up to Mount Abu. I couldn't have been more wrong. Turns out Abu Road is a whole town at the foot of the hill that has Mount Abu atop it. Also, people in Abu Road sure do like their Rabri. I saw shops selling it everywhere. Strange. I always thought Punjabis had a think for high fat dairy products. Now I know we're not the only ones.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.flickr.com/43/114560491_4fcb2a7f77.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://static.flickr.com/43/114560491_4fcb2a7f77.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abu_Road">Abu Road</a> is in a district called Sirohi in Rajasthan. Its only about 14 kms from the Rajasthan-Gujarat border and therein lies the reason for its mysterious prosperity. Gujarat is a prohibition state. Rajasthan on the other hand has no such problems. As a result, Abu Road has turned into the place Gujaratis use to get drunk legally (of course they can still get bootleg in Gujarat). Almost every roadside establishment serves alchohol and has rooms to rent (probably because people might want to stay the night). Unfortunately a lot of people still do tend to get pissed and go driving. Not a very reassuring thought when you're about to go up a hill in a taxi. Also, the day we got to Abu Road was Holi which didn't make things any better.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1142780101853104292006-03-19T06:44:00.000-08:002006-03-19T06:55:01.866-08:00Greetings!I'm back from Abu. Too tired to do a full post right now. But I did come loaded with pictures. So many that I ran out of the 128 MB card on my camera and had to switch to the one in my phone. For now, I leave you with a couple of images I deem wallpaper worthy.<br /><br /><p><a href="http://static.flickr.com/54/114629173_e1f41807f1_o.jpg"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/54/114629173_e1f41807f1_m.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://static.flickr.com/51/114629241_4079c8f72a_o.jpg"><img src="http://static.flickr.com/51/114629241_4079c8f72a_m.jpg" border="0" /></a></p>Enjoy. Or something like that.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1142276752918717142006-03-13T10:55:00.000-08:002006-03-13T11:12:47.856-08:00Randomize<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">As I sit in this dark room</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">In this very full but very stark room</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">I can't help but think</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">What if the world were to sink</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">In all the misery that it creates</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">The incredible sadness that permeates</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">This tiny little ball of dust</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">Which I inhabit</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-family: georgia;">because I must</span><br /><br />Change. To live all your life collecting unfulfilled promises, regrets and unhapiness. Or to try and fulfill each one of them while risking failure at every turn. In our naivete we often assume that we control whether the world around us changes. Like it or not, change the world does. Constantly. Question is, does one want to be the initiator of that change or just end up being an anonymous victim. How does one define change anyway? Is it the differential between one moment and the next? Is it purely a function of time, or is it also defined by space? There are times when I wish I could travel through time and see the consequences of actions I contemplate. But then I realise the pointlessness of it.<br /><br />Yes, this post makes no sense.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1142163409573011392006-03-12T02:57:00.000-08:002006-03-12T03:36:49.626-08:00Dilbertesque!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.flickr.com/56/111274393_42a29073f9_o.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://static.flickr.com/56/111274393_42a29073f9.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Joy to the world. Asok wants to hire me for work in global companies!!!!!Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1141841976104485482006-03-08T10:01:00.000-08:002006-03-08T10:36:25.016-08:00Newses Newses!So loads of new stuff going on. Must record.<br /><br />1. Good friend bought a brand new car (you know who you are). One I've been wanting to drive for a while. Hopefully he'll let me have a go. Somehow I never did get the hang of test drives. Case of shopper's guilt?<br /><br />2. New project at work. Very excited. As usual, it'll see me away from home for a month or two, but well worth the price of admission.<br /><br />3. New personal project I've been giving intense thought to. Under wraps right now. Something I've wanted to do for a long time.<br /><br />4. I am getting FATTER! I must, absolutely MUST get off my bum and do something about this. The situation demands remediation (is that even a word?). Have been giving some thought to going on a diet. Yes, a diet! Now get off my case.<br /><br />5. Am headed to <a href="http://www.rajasthantravelguide.com/city/mount_abu.html">Mt. Abu</a> for a short vacation before I go off to the new project. Photos and impressions (good ones hopefully) when I get back.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1141637913097935802006-03-06T01:28:00.000-08:002006-03-06T01:38:35.616-08:00The Ultimate WorkaroundI just logged into my gmail account after a long time and saw the new Delete button. Got me thinking. Do you think the whole 2GB storage thing might have been because they couldn't figure out how to do the Delete functionality?<br /><br />The ultimate workaround ;)Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1140198003281375312006-02-17T09:29:00.000-08:002006-02-17T09:50:56.093-08:00Rhyme Nor Reason<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/11341523/"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/320/060215_cartoons_hlrg_330a.hlarge.3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />O Abraham did you know<br />What would come of the seeds you sow<br />Your children chopped up little pieces of the earth<br />The very mother who sired them, gave them birth<br />They eat her fruit and then poison it for the others<br />These others Abraham, are none but their brothers<br />They fight, they bicker and they feud<br />Whilst their spawn hunger for but a scrap of food<br />O Abraham how could you possibly know<br />What terrible deeds would come of the seeds you sowArunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1139855533415293732006-02-13T10:25:00.000-08:002006-02-13T10:32:13.486-08:00Out With It!Okay, I've discovered there are other people out there affected by this problem so I have to ask. How many of you out there just can't type the word "ratio" without typing "ration" first. Come on, don't be shy, there have to be others out there. I know a couple of people at work who have this problem, and now I know <a href="http://www.1up.com/do/blogEntry?bId=6539466&publicUserId=5379721">Jeremy Parish's</a> got it too. So tell me, can you type "ration"?<br /><br />Sorry, I meant "ratio".Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1139782339400902072006-02-12T12:47:00.000-08:002006-02-12T14:17:15.806-08:00Of Animated Protestors and Inflamed Passions<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/1600/cartoon_protestor.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/200/cartoon_protestor.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>"Cartoon protestors torch embassies in Damascus"<br /><br />"Cartoon protestors try to rush US base"<br /><br />"Cartoon protestors train their sites on web"<br /><br />Unless you've been living under a rock for the past few weeks, you've no doubt heard of the "cartoon protestors" and their protests. The first time I heard this term, the only thing I could think of was an inflamed bugs bunny <a href="http://chatpics.topcities.com/bbwar.wav">saying</a> "Of course you realise this means war".<br /><br />I am the first one to admit that religion fascinates me. I have serious trouble believing what most religions preach, but I still am quite intrigued by the capability of religion and its prophets to hold sway over vast swathes of people. After what little I have studied of religion, I have come to certain conclusions:<br /><ol> <li>Religions are, at a very basic level, simply a set of moral rules. The problem with most religions is that there is no graceful way of changing these rules. A change/deviation almost always results in a new sect (or even religion) branching off.</li> <li>All religions have what I call the fundamental streak. This usually coincides with a sect that chooses to interpret religious symbols/texts literally despite the fact that they might not make any sense in the modern day and age.</li> <li>Most religions provide no means of enforcing the rules they proscribe.</li> <li>Religions become more and more tolerant overtime. However, this relaxation has very little effect on the fundamental elements who tend to see their form of religion as purer than the one followed by the majority.<br /></li> <li>Lastly, all religion is based on an unseen authority whose existence can't be proved. Empirically speaking, all religion is a lie.</li> </ol> However, the fact of the matter is that this whole brouhaha is costing lives and property. All this for what? A loose system of rules which can't be amended? A concept which quite possibly could be a complete and utter lie? And who's to blame?<br /><br />The problem with the Danish cartoons isn't necessarily that they depict Mohammed in a bad light. The bigger problem here is that they depict him at all. Islam as a religion preaches god as a formless concept. To give god, or any other Islamic religious figures a form is considered nothing short of blasphemy. The question is: Can blasphemy committed by a non-believer be considered blashemy at all? Obviously not. But one might argue that by publishing his cartoons in a newspaper the illustrator also exposed innocent Muslim readers to his blasphemous depictions of god. Seen from that perspective, the anger of a Muslim reader of the Danish newspaper would seem quite justified. Although this still doesn't justify the anger of all the Muslims who haven't even seen these cartoons themselves. Then why is it that buildings burn and people get shot?<br /><br />The real reason I think lies in the greater sense of fear and insecurity that Muslims feel in the world today. Take the term "Islamic terrorism" for instance. It has become widely used in the media and is bandied about with reckless disregard. It is used to refer to the terrorists in Afghanistan as well as the rebels in Iraq. It is also applied with equal ease to Chechnyan seperatists. To the lay person the term simply means any terrorist who ascribes to a version of Islam (no matter how perverted that version might be). In real terms though, an Iraqi rebel and a Chechnyan one have less in common than an everyday Indian and an everyday American. Each of these people are fighting for their own cause. While its true that at times they do combine forces, it is no different from any two terrorist outfits (or indeed any two combat units) combining forces to accomplish a task.<br /><br />In India, Muslims are discriminated against everyday. We don't see it, but its definitely there. Let me illustrate. I belong to a community (Sikhs) which makes up roughly 3% of India's population. Thats a tiny number. Having lived in Delhi all my life, I can say with some authority that the number of my Sikhs in Delhi can't possibly be higher than the number of Muslims in the city. However, in my place of work the total number of Muslims is less than 1% of the total. On the other hand, about 5% of the total workforce is made up of Sikhs. So where are all these people going? Do they not earn a living? Part of the problem is the parallel school system (Madrasas) where the quality of education is mostly sub-par. However, the very reason for the existence of this parallel system is the intense fear of discrimination that has been instilled in the Muslim community.<br /><br />In Iraq, an occupying army systematically deprives a people of the assets of their own country. Make no mistake, the American occupation of Iraq is no different from the British occupation of India. Sure they have the technology, the resources and the media accumen to put a pretty face to it. But the premise remains the same. The Americans think they must govern the Iraqis (and "give" them their freedom) because the Iraqis themselves aren't capable of doing it. This is the same line of thinking that was used to justify colonisation in the 19th and 20th century.<br /><br />In Afghanistan, everyday lives of real Afghanis are still run by ruthless warlords who are a law unto themselves. The fall of the Taliban served to replace one form of chaos with another. In Iran, religion chokes the lifeblood of the country and its people. In Palestine, a people fight for their houses, their farms and the future of their children.<br /><br />All these are problems that have been seen in other, non-muslim countries too. In and of themselves, these problems have nothing to do with religion. Religion however is a great rallying point. It combines people all over the world inspite of their region, race, ethnicity or language. Islam is playing that role right now. To ensure that the cartoon protests never happen again, the world would need to come together and fix the everyday problems of people in India, Afghanistan, Iraq, Chechnya, Palestine and many other countries. The fact that all these people happen to be Muslims is just a co-incidence. We need to make sure we understand this, lest "Islamic terrorism" become a self-fulfilling propecy.<br /><br /><br />P.S.: Sorry if the cartoon looks crap. My illustration skills are a bit rusty.<br /><br />Note to self: This is what happens when you use a digital camera to transfer a drawing to the computer.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1139595599002338972006-02-10T10:18:00.000-08:002006-02-10T10:19:59.016-08:00ThoughtSometimes, silence is the better response.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1139326839764504552006-02-07T07:30:00.000-08:002006-02-07T07:48:29.736-08:00Fun With ASCII<span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Quiet! He's sleeping<br />- -<br /> 0<br />---<br /><br /><br />Oh look what you did! You've woken him<br />- -<br />o o<br /> o<br />---<br /><br /><br />It's alright. It looks like he's happy to see you<br />- -<br />o o<br /> o<br />\_/<br /><br /><br />Or maybe not<br />^ ^<br />o o<br /> o<br />\O/<br /><br /><br />You've scared him out of his wits!<br />" "<br />O O<br /> o<br />-O-<br /><br /><br />Phew! He looks okay now</span></span><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />- -<br />o o<br /> -<br />\_/<br /><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Don't leave. Please don't.<br />- -<br />0 0<br /> o<br />/-<br /></span></span>Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1138884636542417662006-02-02T04:46:00.000-08:002006-02-02T04:54:05.756-08:00Unauthorised Constructions in DelhiI just thought I'd put the word out among my friends on this. NDTV has the MCD's list of unauthorised constructions up on their web site. Its at <a href="http://www.ndtv.com/homepage/unauthoconstruct.asp">http://www.ndtv.com/homepage/unauthoconstruct.asp</a>. This list and many other things in the news set me thinking. My thoughts are a bit muddled right now so I won't discuss them. Maybe in a later post.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1138811800320446262006-02-01T08:34:00.000-08:002006-02-01T08:38:07.400-08:00Saved For ReferenceAt least one other <a href="http://redobsession.livejournal.com/">person</a> I know (well, in a sense) thinks this doesn't completely suck. So there.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">I don't see dust and smoke and pain and squalor</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">I refuse to bear witness to the lust of power</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">I see chirping birds and a gurgling stream</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">I see snow-capped mountains and scenes serene</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">Why is it again that we can't live in dreams?</span>Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5427454.post-1138042315726032802006-01-23T10:15:00.000-08:002006-01-23T10:51:55.806-08:00If People Were Shapes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/1600/photo-egg-3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6838/185/320/photo-egg-3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Every once in a while, its fun to squint your eyes and look at life and people from a skewed perspective. Studies have <a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/10925120/from/RS.5/">shown</a> that most people have an inherent understanding of geometry without having the need to be taught even the most basic principles. After all, we do live in a 3-dimensional world. But enough of that. What would you do if you were asked to describe yourself/others as a shape? I've gotten used to doing that as I go through my day. It doesn't always have to do with the way people look (although that does play a big role in it). In fact, it also has a lot to do with how their personality works. The abrasive ones end up with more edges, the smoother ones end up with less. The more honest or to the point ones get a lot of straight lines, where as the round talkers get more curves :)<br /><br />This whole people as shapes thing has turned into a major obsession with me. I'm still surprised at the number of shapes I can come up with. Try it sometime, and you'll see how much fun it can be. Especially in boring meetings where you can fill your notepad with sketches of squares, triangles, cubes and pyramids sitting around a table. Although thinking of the shape a person is while talking to them isn't very advisable. There's this girl in the office who has a pointy head and a slightly squeaky voice. In my head she's a cone and I swear I can't talk to her without looking at the top of her head (the pointy part :)). She probably thinks I'm either some sort of freak or too distracted to talk to her. Aside from that though, its all great fun. I spoke to a few friends a few days ago and we came up with some very interesting shapes for each other. Everybody thought, and I agreed, that I am probably an oval. Still can't explain exactly why. Probably has a something to do with my body shape. Or maybe with the fact that I can't really make up my mind about anything.Arunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11262915001127355017noreply@blogger.com2