tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87149562024-03-23T14:21:28.260-04:00JOSHIENIZERKILLING YOU SOFTLY, WITH THIS BLOG....APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.comBlogger246125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-46748615391232927392011-01-25T23:59:00.006-05:002011-01-26T00:09:40.538-05:00The Opposite Of Mirror Images<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">You are like the rage of a hurricane, I am like the calm before the storm.<br />You like things one can touch, I like things that touch one's heart.<br />You love the highways, I love the winding roads.<br />You smile only when you have to, I cry only when I have to.<br />You wonder if I could ever be the reason of your sadness. I find it hard just to see you sad.<br />You are red, I am yellow.<br />You are like a sunset and I am like a sunrise.<br />You like to shoot for the stars, I like to stare at the moon.<br />You are like the moon, beautiful and shining. I am like the earth, whom you light up when darkness falls.<br />You are like the ocean and I am like the sand.<br /><br />You will have your high and low tides and I, like the sand, will relish soaking myself in your warmth during the highs and patiently wait by you during the lows.<br /><br />You and I are different like soil and water. And yet we are the same. Coz no one knows if its the ocean which covers the sand or the sand which holds the ocean. But without one, the other cannot sustain.</span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-84682163974892582008-10-14T23:59:00.010-04:002008-10-14T23:59:01.194-04:00The Final Countdown<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">As some of you have guessed and most of you now know, today is this blogs 4th anniversary. However, the countdown was for a different reason, so read on.<br /><br />Why did I ever start blogging? When I was in India (2004), I was introduced to blogging by </span><a href="http://statueofpuberty.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Abhi </span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">and </span><a href="http://powermojo.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Alap</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">. I did find it weird at first. What do I have to write? My life is not even remotely interesting and I am hardly opinionated. I thought I would use this blog as an online journal. A repository for </span><a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2005/08/that-thing-about-americans.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">random</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> thoughts, </span><a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2005/12/osama-shot.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">events</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">, stories and <a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2005/09/simple-life.html">reflections</a>, right down to answering the question - </span><a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2005/12/why-me_11.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Why Me?</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">. Perhaps some memories or not so interesting news and musings. I thought my grandkids would read this and think I was such a rockstar. But with time as this blog evolved, I realized there was more to it. I was confident some chick will read this, think I was so cool (What? I can cook and I can <a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2008/05/truth-is.html">iron clothes</a> - isn't that what every woman looks for in a man?) and go "Marry me!" Jokes apart, there was a difference between writing a blog and scribbling in that pink heart shaped diary everyone has (come on! I know you have one of those).<br /><br />I realized a blog could be the outlet to my different interests. My ability to play with </span><a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2005/09/wait.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">words</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">, explore <a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2005/12/bappi-to-be.html">different</a> <a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2006/11/unforgiven-my-version.html">areas </a>and invent </span><a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2007/10/doritos-made-healthy.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">new recipes</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">. And looking back, I have four years of documented "Apoorva's Life". Right from the </span><a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2006/06/click-in-time.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">hotties I stalked</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">, the </span><a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2005/10/way-to-womans-heart.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">salmon kebabs</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> to being </span><a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2005/10/monkey-business.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">chased by monkeys</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">.<br /><br />But above all this, I have come to know some amazing people. Some like and some not-so-like minded people. People from different countries and people from different professions. Doctors and artists to research scientists and photographers. Some I know superficially and some have turned out to be really good friends. And this by far has been the most rewarding part of blogging. Every post feels like an event I am hosting where everyone stops by. Some stay around for a while and interact. Some peek by (and leave with the free beer). And I, play the humble host!<br /><br />However, have you heard of that person who hosts a party just because people expect him to do so. That he no longer enjoys it the way he used to, but hosts it. When I started blogging, I started slow and as it grew on me, I blogged more frequently. I loved it. I was blogging almost every other day. Then it became a weekly affair. Perhaps it was blogger's block which set in. Perhaps I just got wary of my surroundings and it limited my creativity, or my freedom of speech (text?). But I never got over it. I should have stopped long time ago. Long, long time ago. But I dragged on and almost made this blog look a ghost town. If you visit a blog few times and are greeted by the same post, you know its almost dead.<br /><br />Yes, I should have stopped long time ago. And what I should have done then, I would rather do it now! Its time to shut this part of my life and start another that I have been contemplating since many months!<br /><br />However, this is certainly not the end of our interaction. Well, at least I speak for those who have a blog (or have me on facebook). I will be visiting your blogs and many of you know that I do respond to emails or posts on my 'Wall' faster than I answer my phone! And why do I feel I will reappear someday on the blogosphere. Perhaps back here, or perhaps somewhere else.<br /><br />I was talking to a friend few hours ago and something hilarious came up. I was almost about to say, "You know I am going to blog this!" and stopped myself short.<br /><br />This might take time getting used to.<br /><br />And before I leave, I know everyone is looking at me for those departing words of wisdom. Most of us spend our life thinking of doing many a thing, but never get around to doing it. We blame it on time, and our ever packed schedules and working at jobs which majority of us are not in love with. Remember life by what you did and not by what you wanted to do. The right moment to do what you always wanted to do, is NOW! And stop caring what the world thinks!<br /><br />So looking back, did I achieve any of my primary objectives? Will my grandkids think I was a rockstar? Forget my grandkids, my Dad reads my blog and has decided to disown me! And as for that hot chick who was supposed to stop by my blog and say, "Marry Me!", all I can say is she is very lucky! She has not yet missed out on her chance to do so!<br /><br />See you around! </span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-43412800299857258872008-10-14T00:01:00.001-04:002008-10-14T00:01:00.927-04:004<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">How do you celebrate your blog's fourth anniversary?<br /><br />Any suggestions? If I like your idea, I'll send you a little anniversary gift! You have 24 hours to reply.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>.... Happy Birthday Joshienizer!</em></span></span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-69545780465355800102008-10-12T00:56:00.001-04:002008-10-12T00:57:29.413-04:00To A Different Beat...<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">If there is anything which comes close to a personal high, then this might be it.<br /><em>*Warning - rather long post ahead* </em><br /><br />"So you guys ready for football?", I asked, as some 15 faces stared at me, most of them confused.<br /><br />When a colleague asked if I knew how to play soccer and was willing to coach a soccer team, I jumped at the opportunity. The challenge being it was a Special Olympics team. 15 athletes, girls and boys, mentally challenged to some capacity. Quite a challenge I thought. But it did make me nervous. How was I supposed to interact with them? I started doing the groundwork. Reading up on how to interact with these athletes. Took the required tests that a coach is required to take and here I was, July, Day 1, in front of 15 individuals who might have never seen an Indian guy, asking them if they were ready for football.<br /><br />I was greeted with complete silence.<br /><br />"Is that a yes, or a no?", I asked, deep down wondering if I was doing it right.<br /><br />And then one voice out of the crowd says, "We are here for soccer!"<br /><br />In the United States of America, its soccer! And soccer is what has consumed a good part of my life for the last three months. To say this experience has been out of the world would be an understatement. It has thrown out its challenges but at the same time its made me interact with the human mind on a completely different level.<br /><br />The first day I was in a dilemma on how I would mix in with these athletes. Very soon I realized you interact with them just like you would interact with any person on a day-to-day basis. Just one rule - for every word of criticism, have five words of encouragement. It might take them a little longer to react and perhaps a little longer to understand, but they do get it. In the end, they do execute plans to perfection. As is normal with anyone who starts playing soccer, the aim is to shoot a goal. And thats what everyone was trying for on the team. So you had 10 atheletes run after the ball and shoot a goal. It was like a herd, all moving together, sometimes tripping each other in an effort to get to the ball.<br /><br />Yes, it did take time to make them understand what is defence. It did take time to make them understand offense. But in the end, they did get it! It did take time to make them understand the importance of passing. To spread out in the field. To tackle. To take corners. Throw-in's. It did take time to make them understand, no matter who shoots the goal, the team wins! And it took many words of encouragement for them to brave the heat and the cold for 45 minutes. But in the end, they did it all.<br /><br />By the end of September, passing was more important than scoring a goal. Defense was at par with offense. And it didnt matter which position you play. It didnt matter who scored the goal. The team won. Passing became more important than scoring and defense became the powerhouse on which the offense built their game.<br /><br />Last week of September, we headed for the regional play-off's. We lost our first game 3-1. I could see some disappointed faces. But that was the warm-up cum wake-up call we needed. What followed was a complete decimation of the opponents. With scores ranging from 1-0 all the way to 5-1. The regional tournament being a league, rather than play-off's, we ended up taking silver (the first team which beat us ended up with on same points). But that put us on way to state level which was played this weekend (10/11 Oct.) at Detroit.<br /><br />There were 4 teams from my area and we rented a bus and some 60 of us drove down to Detroit. It was one fun trip. We had games on Friday followed by dinner and a dance after which we turned Best Western upside down. This was followed by games on Saturday. Like I said, after that first match loss at regional, we were a team transformed. What followed after that loss was an unbeaten run all the way to the final. And the final had all the drama one could ask for. We trailed 0-1 at half-time. A rebound off our goalie went straight to one of the opposite team's forwards and it was an easy shot into the goal. Half-way through the second half, DN took a shot from mid-field and it sailed into the right corner of the goal. 1-1. What followed was a penalty shoot-out which we comprehensively won. And we were very proud to show off our Gold medal!!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><strong>Hall of Fame moment:</strong></span><br /><br />- The goalie was a girl (ER). Some people were concerned about this, but I felt she was the best goalie I had ever come across and I was adamant that she be goalie. Once she walked up to me and expressed a desire to play forward. We let her play forward and she shot a goal. She loved it, but she came back as goalie coz she knew this is where the team required her. "If you stop a goal, I say you have scored one", is what I said to her and she just smiled. When the finals went to a penalty shoot-out, she came up to and said, "I hate shoot-outs". "This is where you get to be the hero", I said, "Dont let even one past you!" And thats exactly what she did. She put her body behind the ball, she dived, she took a ball on her face. She cramped a thigh muscle but she didnt let a single ball through. We didn't even have to go five kicks a side. When she blocked the fourth kick, we were up 2-0. And I ran and gave her this huge bear hug. And she hugged me back and said, "I still hate shoot-outs, coach!" There was one guy on my team who shot close to 10 goals in the tournament. But ER was my hero (heroine)!<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">Hilarious/lovable moments:</span></strong><br /><br />- EC was a cookie/brownie monster. He was playing for the junior team (I was not his coach), but I used to interact with him quite a lot. I was walking to the players area when I saw him returning from a game (which the team had won). He had just eaten a brownie on the way and his lips were all smeared with chocolate. He saw me and made a mad dash, shouting, "We won, I shot a gooooooooal" and hugged me, his face going smack onto my shoulder. Rest of the day, I was walking around wearing a shirt with chocolate colored lip marks on its shoulder.<br /><br />- During practice, we had our back-up goalie (EV) in the nets. Someone took a shot which went over his head. EV walks up to me and says, "Not fair. No goal. It went over my head." "But EV, thats allowed. You have to stop it", I said. "No!! No over my head! No GOAL" and he stomped off.<br /><br />- During a match I had EV as goalie and the other team had to take a corner. They had no idea how to take a corner. EV walks up with an athlete of the opposite team to the corner, places the ball on the corner, waits with the other team athlete till the opposite team players show up on our side of the field. Then he talks to the other athlete telling him how to kick the ball. All this while I am going crazy on the other side of the field, shouting, "EV!!! Get back in the goal! You are the goalie. If she kicks the ball, we dont have a goalie!! Get back, get back..." All the spectators are rolling in laughter.<br /><br />- I sent EV in as sub during the final. "You are playing defence and you mark # 10. Dont let him past you. Bring him down" EV is a 5'2" little fella. #10 from the opposite team was a 6'1", 220 lb Afro-American. EV follows #10 like a hawk. And swoops in when #10 gets the ball. First, he goes for the ball, misses it. Realizes the ball is out of reach and #10 is getting away. So he takes one big swing at #10's feet. Hits. #10 limps for a second, but still has the ball. EV head-butt's #10's stomach and sends #10 rolling over. Ref calls foul. EV looks at me, fist up in the air. "Coach, I brought him down"<br /><br />- AX was the most hilarious guy around. Everytime you look at him, he would smile. He could eat anytime of the day. He got along very well with me, and was this totally lovable guy with an amazing sense of humor. His passion was dancing. During the regionals I caught him </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwIwRvLPAFY"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">on video </span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">just dancing by himself. As we went to state, I asked him if he could teach me to dance. "I suck at dancing AX. All girls run away when they watch me dance.", I said. "Oh, cute", was his reply. At the Friday night dance, he decided to give me some tips during 'Who let the dogs out'. I have him on video over </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2DBB7WH9dA"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">here</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">.<br /><br />- During the regionals, some cute teenage (17-19) university girls came around for some campaign they were working on. AX did an Elvis imitation and got them totally hooked. After sometime he walks up to them and says, "I turn 30 this Saturday. You are all welcome to my house for an all night party"<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:100%;">The Moment Of Truth: </span></strong><br /><br />Its Friday night and all the special olympics athletes were dancing. It must be a few 100 of them, dancing away. The DJ turns on some slow music (Unchained Melody) and most athletes are dancing with their mom, or dad. DN (who had a habit of saying coach after every second word) walks up to me.<br /><br />DN: Coach, you should dance coach!<br />ME: Nah DN, I am good.<br />DN: Ask some girl to dance coach.<br />ME: No DN, I am good.<br />DN: You like a girl coach? This is where you ask her to dance!<br />ME: I cant! My wife would not like it.<br />DN: You have a wife?<br />ME: Two!<br />DN: Two?<br />ME: One in NY, one in India.<br />DN: Cool! (walks away with a huge smile on his face)<br /><br /><br />I used to do my little bit - organizing an "adopt a family" over Xmas at work, volunteering to hand out food to the homeless during thanksgiving etc. However, it left some quentions lingering. This was a completely different experience. It kept me mentally stimulated (very important for someone like me), and I got an understanding of how the human mind works on different levels. It taught me to lead, to follow and in the end, just enjoy and not bother what happens. Its taught me never to give up. When we trailed 0-1, none of the players gave up. We just kept going at it. Its made me apprecite life much more and once again ask myself why we run this rat race in our everyday life when in the end everyone goes back to mother earth. Its made me appreciate people who work in many a thankless jobs/professions.<br /><br />Some of the kids stutter, and stutter so much that it might take them a good 20 secs. to say "Hello, how are you?" Can you imagine the patience level when you have to work with them everyday? DN, the lead scorer on my team had the biggest mood swings. Half-way through a match, he decides he does not want to play because he has to conserve his enery for another sport which is a month from now. How do you convince him in the middle of the game? Can you imagine saying something and then repeating couple of times just so the other person understands it? Can you imagine doing this everyday of your life?<br /><br />Finally, what do we do in our everyday life to make a better community? Sometimes, you need to live a different beat.</span></div><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><em>... 3 days to go! </em></span>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-41724178427752252592008-10-09T01:15:00.001-04:002008-10-13T22:28:25.229-04:00Women And Malaria<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Was talking with a friend and the topic of her matrimonial search came up. More so, the topic of a particular boy passed on by her parents came up, on which she commented, "He is too hairy"<br /><br />"Hairy? I dont get you women! Its a problem if he has no hair and now its a problem if he is hairy. Did you know more money is being spent in a cure for hair loss over a cure for malaria? And its because of you women! I mean, how many times have you seen a chick go - I dig your bald spot? I tell ya, malaria exists because of you women!", was my rant. And I was confident that I had cracked the puzzle to why malaria was not yet eradicated.<br /><br />That... till I wondered how many $$ are spent on silicone implants and botox?<br /><br />So howz this as a deal? Men stop admiring "well endowed" women and women start admiring bald guys? And together, we can eradicate malaria?<br /><br /><em>P.S. - No points for guessing I am once again thinking of trying out the bald look! </em><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>....6 days to go!</em></span></span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-4860896325998610652008-10-06T00:53:00.000-04:002008-10-06T00:53:54.471-04:00Skydiving - Check<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPAgsZCxazc7ECrMMP0ft2MTc1Sqixzoux1Z6jRQSZ4HRoGiB8CFAjPHeEq1-MIqxmdOZgG1G9pHM3OYnhnRoR5yZaEOtuVgEYoNI0-1MJa_FpG9uMofADqvcZ9wbmOTVGLTjxDg/s1600-h/Deryl+10-5-08+1+007+-+001.jpg"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253889206413933026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPAgsZCxazc7ECrMMP0ft2MTc1Sqixzoux1Z6jRQSZ4HRoGiB8CFAjPHeEq1-MIqxmdOZgG1G9pHM3OYnhnRoR5yZaEOtuVgEYoNI0-1MJa_FpG9uMofADqvcZ9wbmOTVGLTjxDg/s400/Deryl+10-5-08+1+007+-+001.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Thinking - I seriously hope this guy on my back is not gay!<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0BZgTM9QDU5YUHPd6uMHPat8PRW8ye6GsfHagbZ-9sYWWqCQIAivwH43FW8hsm-N-cXdsgxG36yarBmMS2q2DV1BY2P5KBUOAecGLwT2KMCFALvLMsEtz4KhK5RYR0QskepYr4g/s1600-h/Deryl+10-5-08+1+015.jpg"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253890130201363922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0BZgTM9QDU5YUHPd6uMHPat8PRW8ye6GsfHagbZ-9sYWWqCQIAivwH43FW8hsm-N-cXdsgxG36yarBmMS2q2DV1BY2P5KBUOAecGLwT2KMCFALvLMsEtz4KhK5RYR0QskepYr4g/s400/Deryl+10-5-08+1+015.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> Did I feel something poking my ass?<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLbGF_b-bqLb_8H9JIS-eV2-OC_CAh-qJhmBWf_natpeA_cMRci4weGG8rjGyXSkrqbkYp-DAGt6rThE8weFz3bEtVtA-law8RomvVbjpge-nPtqD8NYWJRA1SRfOC17sxOftDQ/s1600-h/Deryl+10-5-08+1+020+-+001.jpg"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253890438444642978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhLbGF_b-bqLb_8H9JIS-eV2-OC_CAh-qJhmBWf_natpeA_cMRci4weGG8rjGyXSkrqbkYp-DAGt6rThE8weFz3bEtVtA-law8RomvVbjpge-nPtqD8NYWJRA1SRfOC17sxOftDQ/s400/Deryl+10-5-08+1+020+-+001.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Probably not. Perhaps somersaulting at 10000 ft. should be of higher concern than any poking. Is this even supposed to happen? The world sure seems weird upside down!<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXE9m_EH6auv8qPPSuUD3kMYBgL3UHTJoU1LzWSDZZuV5zoFE2MTvamOMlvzUNVzAT1V-pg-B57U4SyaqthIIBtXRKL28YD69eNNbJWV16xN05cbQ6FZrRtXD-HsXrbUd1CsnxEg/s1600-h/Deryl+10-5-08+1+021+-+001.jpg"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253891537075547010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXE9m_EH6auv8qPPSuUD3kMYBgL3UHTJoU1LzWSDZZuV5zoFE2MTvamOMlvzUNVzAT1V-pg-B57U4SyaqthIIBtXRKL28YD69eNNbJWV16xN05cbQ6FZrRtXD-HsXrbUd1CsnxEg/s400/Deryl+10-5-08+1+021+-+001.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> Need some orientation... time to get out the drogue (and breathe)<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCTwrs-WUTBC3XvAHqH8tPtfQOeQXf59vYX861_NvSsZ2lODzmJnWJnzlTshFsPYYF1TFCHWg_wDs6hr8fkkGjv24QkWf7SCyPdhvGAAUodywLMLqCfcSa7r3zFp8wfoRVifdVw/s1600-h/Deryl+10-5-08+1+037+-+001.jpg"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253892364999589218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCTwrs-WUTBC3XvAHqH8tPtfQOeQXf59vYX861_NvSsZ2lODzmJnWJnzlTshFsPYYF1TFCHWg_wDs6hr8fkkGjv24QkWf7SCyPdhvGAAUodywLMLqCfcSa7r3zFp8wfoRVifdVw/s400/Deryl+10-5-08+1+037+-+001.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> OK, this feels brilliant! I am gonna have spiked hair when I land!<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYzvHbnBtgf-vag96ivZ6D0BomPdUVZMv1a00hZDw76pjqHSPXsATonhLHRnLh2EeKiLeIhUMGMLIoi2Phd4xVpwmAuBSh_4MhB2PyMZH72YZqzV8226OUb-7TeQyTjxRBKhPzbA/s1600-h/Deryl+10-5-08+1+058+-+001.jpg"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253894096845018002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYzvHbnBtgf-vag96ivZ6D0BomPdUVZMv1a00hZDw76pjqHSPXsATonhLHRnLh2EeKiLeIhUMGMLIoi2Phd4xVpwmAuBSh_4MhB2PyMZH72YZqzV8226OUb-7TeQyTjxRBKhPzbA/s400/Deryl+10-5-08+1+058+-+001.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> Time to pull the cord. The canopy opened. God loves me!<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRs0RuU0UzavxF5JcziM1cV2RdzjZI0LVbKjRfiUFOOMufGLZOiQdHNGJFLGHVKZZZ6fomf6Gk0ZSIXNR0LqK9b-PcHD6dS0ZSEvnIH9vAXVp5fzvx20DnOda8KeKQFu8ZvBiVwA/s1600-h/Deryl+10-5-08+1+069+-+001.jpg"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253894457323269074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRs0RuU0UzavxF5JcziM1cV2RdzjZI0LVbKjRfiUFOOMufGLZOiQdHNGJFLGHVKZZZ6fomf6Gk0ZSIXNR0LqK9b-PcHD6dS0ZSEvnIH9vAXVp5fzvx20DnOda8KeKQFu8ZvBiVwA/s400/Deryl+10-5-08+1+069+-+001.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> Ok, so it was a crash land. There are times when having a huge soft padded butt could be an advantage!<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTQmXgEUXSEVBudXbJhf206ENt0BbYvrXvpvHBaqgQNvWnZDsPUWNHSODaPk-bfJtOeen2HgLp46opwrACXFSpJvQU1vrUIISj-MohwlIFZOUpAzN1F-dhlwYcRXoD4plkQFpXw/s1600-h/SANY0044_converted_0001.jpg"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253894918443740706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTQmXgEUXSEVBudXbJhf206ENt0BbYvrXvpvHBaqgQNvWnZDsPUWNHSODaPk-bfJtOeen2HgLp46opwrACXFSpJvQU1vrUIISj-MohwlIFZOUpAzN1F-dhlwYcRXoD4plkQFpXw/s400/SANY0044_converted_0001.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> Yes, I am DA MAN!</span></div><p align="justify"><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I think everyone should do this once. The 40 second free-fall is absolutely amazing and when you glide underneath your parachute, the world looks surreal! For two weeks, I have been trying to dive and for some reason the weather Gods were against me. Too many clouds. And this weekend was supposed to be no different. We spent Saturday night dancing at a friends wedding all the way to 3 AM and then I get a call at 8 AM asking me to look out of the window. Nice sunny day and not a cloud in the sky. And so we were off for skydiving. I kept yawning as I got into the jumpsuit. I kept yawning as the plane gained altitude. And I think I yawned during the free-fall. The instructor was rather amused at how I was all zonked and not jittery in any way. He actually checked to make sure I was not drunk!<br /><br />I have a video of the entire free-fall, but am too lazy to rip the DVD. So meantime, you guys can enjoy this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPrjt53RBfQ">little preview </a>of the build-up which a friend shot with my cam. And if I ever get around to it, I'll update this post with the freefall video.<br /><br />Till then, I think you should skydive. At least once. On a cold Michigan Fall day. And have the wind cut through your skin. Its mind-numbing!</span> </span></p>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-2143338938008784942008-10-04T15:21:00.000-04:002008-10-04T15:21:57.867-04:00How To Lose Your Friends And Alienate Yourself<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Its Friday night. Well, effectively, Saturday morning. And the temperature on the east of Lake Michigan has dropped to a good 39 F. With the sudden chill thats spread over, RC and I decide to make this a Blockbuster night. FYI - Blockbuster night means renting DVD's from Blockbuster!<br /><br />Now RC has never seen Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind. And ages ago I had mentioned how I happened to find this movie so.... different! Well, different in a nice way. So despite many a protest, RC decides to rent Eternal Sunshine.<br /><br />So there we are, sitting in front of the TV, munching pop-corn and watching the movie. I have made several attempts to sneak away and log onto the computer but RC insists I should keep her company. "If you so highly recommend a movie, you should watch it as well", are the the exact words.<br /><br />Its an hour into the movie and I am so totally out of my mind. I love this movie, but tonite is so not an eternal sunshine night. Its more like an Incredible Hulk night (speaking of which, I was thinking of a remake of the Incredible Hulk which would star yours truly and would be called the Incredible HUNK. The first person I bounced this idea off almost died of laughter and hence I changed plans. But now I think it might make a good comedy. Anyways, I digress). Now those of you who might have seen the movie would know the Korgis - </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIVh8Mu1a4Q&feature=related"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Everybody's Gotta Learn sometime</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> is part of the soundtrack. And those who know me, know that I cant sing to save my soul.<br /><br />As Kate Winslet walks onto the screen.<br /><br /><strong><u>Me:</u></strong> (singing) Change your heaaaaaart, Look arounddddd you...<br />(I get a stare from RC, who has probably heard me sing for the first time)<br /><br /><strong><u>Me:</u></strong> (singing) Change your heaaaaaart, it will astoooooound you<br /><br /><strong><u>RC:</u></strong> OK, stop!<br /><br /><strong><u>Me:</u></strong> (singing) I neeeeed your lovingggggg....<br /><br /><strong><u>RC:</u></strong> I missed out on what they were saying. Shut up or I am going to beat you up! (waves remote at me)<br /><br /><strong><u>Me:</u></strong> (sings) Like the sunshiiiiiiine<br />-whack- -whack- -whack-<br /><br /><strong><u>Me:</u></strong> Oh yeah! I like that! Hit me more!<br /><br /><strong><u>RC:</u></strong> (rolls eyes and goes back to watching the movie)<br /><br /><strong><u>Me:</u></strong> (sings) Like the sunshine....<br /><br /><strong><u>RC:</u></strong> Why dont you surf the net?<br /><br /><br /><br />What can I say? Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometimes!! </span></div><p align="justify"><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><em>The world is against me. I was typing this post at 1 AM and the net went off. I had no option but to return to Eternal Sunshine....<br /></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><em>... 10 days to go! </em></span></p>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-91799513025393142702008-10-02T02:07:00.000-04:002008-10-02T02:07:47.765-04:00Bull By Its Balls<div align="justify"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Current sentiment on Wall St.<br /><br /></span><br /></span><br /></div><br /><center><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGuyoxBzumwhrYQZl3e8Ho0aKejlp1AwWyH9Fidc0-8FyQtTbpLiuAELwUIG7DifiaWzppPqSQ0phQZDnz3c0u_NPMFG4KygewYOpWrdyGmVjsdqX2V1qOFn-JXx6fxE7Zk8CUYw/s1600-h/DSCN0178.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251681571374723586" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGuyoxBzumwhrYQZl3e8Ho0aKejlp1AwWyH9Fidc0-8FyQtTbpLiuAELwUIG7DifiaWzppPqSQ0phQZDnz3c0u_NPMFG4KygewYOpWrdyGmVjsdqX2V1qOFn-JXx6fxE7Zk8CUYw/s400/DSCN0178.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></center><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">My buddy Sharma reflecting on the Dow Jones 777 drop!</div></span><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">The Bull is being kicked on its balls!<br /></div></span><p align="justify"><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">What I was not aware of was how the traffic to my blog flows when the Dow Jones fluctuates. On a normal day, my blog will get anywhere between 50-60 hits (yes, no one reads my blog). However, when the DOW goes crazy, everyone runs to my blog. As you can see, the day the Dow dropped, # of visitors to my blog jumped 10 times, and the next day, it jumped by 20 times.</span><br /></p><center><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKljH43TgCQg-2JoFCa2myUKtTvU9CL7JhdNrVgbJ3qvQmjGrGOVmQj3LiSgjoKFZNHGQfERY9wlsxAPp3t5ozhtca9CBILMxhNIEtch2uwXDzUOTZqKuHJYDOPsYGGa29gim5Ag/s1600-h/counter.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252433534511572658" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKljH43TgCQg-2JoFCa2myUKtTvU9CL7JhdNrVgbJ3qvQmjGrGOVmQj3LiSgjoKFZNHGQfERY9wlsxAPp3t5ozhtca9CBILMxhNIEtch2uwXDzUOTZqKuHJYDOPsYGGa29gim5Ag/s400/counter.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></center><p align="justify"><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">So when the Dow drops, all of Wall St. turns to my blog! </span></p><p align="justify"><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em><span style="font-size:78%;">...12 days to go!</span> </em></span></p>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-45011026139853755302008-09-29T23:29:00.000-04:002008-09-29T23:29:15.048-04:00Weighty Issue<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Usually I am not the kinds who makes New Year resolutions. And even if I do, I keep them to myself. However, this year was different. Bakshi, Pals and moi spent the turn of the year down in Miami walking our sorry asses all over the sands of South Beach. I think Jan 2008 was when I probably weighed the maximum that I have in my 29 years of existence. One thing about South Beach is 99% of the guys have that lean mean toned body (dont get the wrong idea here, I was checking out the women, but some of them had guys by their side). So there I was, belly out, standing out amongst the crowd (not in a good way!).<br /><br />As the fireworks went off and the clock struck midnight, Bakshi pledged to return to India and build a company which would put the Ambani's to shame, Pals pledged to continue in his spiritual bliss and put baba Ramdev to shame and me, a man of simple dreams and for whom anything spirit-ual means alcohol, pointed at one of those lean mean toned body types and said, "I am gonna be HIM!"<br /><br />So back I was in Grand Rapids, making my way through a foot of snow to the gym and using the treadmill. And then I used to walk out, feel depressed of the weather and have that chocolate milkshake to lighten up my mood. But jokes apart, I kept going through the routine like a zombie just coz I wanted to lose weight. I never really loved what I did. But just did it, coz I had to. Lift weights, run, lift weights, run. By the time I left for India I was down by some 10 lbs which I gained back in no time.<br /><br />Returning from India I started to reassess the situation. I spend a good 45-60 mins in the gym, but the results dont show. And at the end of the day, I am half dead and not so happy. I stopped viewing weight loss and exercise as a directly proportional relationship and started factoring in other conditions. What did I love doing? In Bombay, I love walking around. I walk from my place to the beach which is a good 45 min walk and then walk back. When I head downtown, I walk. I love exploring different parts of the city on foot. And I started doing the same here. Walking around the neighborhood. Exploring different parts of the city on foot. The walk slowly turned into a jog. I remember my first run. Half a mile and I was panting like an old dog. In a weeks time, I was hitting two miles. One fine day, I just pushed myself and ran the 5K. And since then there's been no looking back. Running outdoors has never been so much fun. You try to get into a rhythm and stick to it. Slowly you improve on your speed. You start running different trails. You realize how to shift gears when you hit a slope. How to push yourself that extra mile. How to challenge yourself on different runs. And in the end, you run your own race and keep feeling better and better as you hit one milestone after the other.<br /><br />Today I cant wait to get out of office so I can get home and hit the trail. Nine months ago, I used to get out of work thinking, "Oh man, gotta go to the gym!" I was not a happy man. Today, I have factored something I like into that relationship of exercise and weight loss. And so far its worked well. And as the results get more and more noticeable, you start fine tuning things. Now I run 3 days a week, work-out at the gym 2 days of the week and leave one day as a buffer. I still eat what I like. I never say no to cookies :). I just make sure I have run the 5K before ordering that double chocolate sundae.<br /><br />Today I am 30 lbs lighter from Jan 2008. I know the biggest challenge will start a month from now when it gets cold and I cant run in the open. I cant wait for it, just to see how I tackle it. To start the transition, I have already started running one day of the week at my university's indoor track. Its not as much fun, but there are ways to entertain oneself (count how many times you passed that hot chick who is walking the track etc.). And there is added pressure since I have this documented on my blog. Most of my friends have not seen me for some good 6-8 months or more. The last thing I want to hear when I bump into them is, "Whats this? We read on your blog you have lost weight? Doesnt seem so!"<br /><br />It feels good to be back to my pre-USA weight. I am sure I'll maintain it. Now will everyone excuse me while I go get that chocolate milkshake!<br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">... 15 days to go!</span></em></span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-28848515772583756182008-09-26T00:48:00.000-04:002008-09-26T00:48:00.872-04:00Broken Lives?<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">From some of my </span><a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2005/07/build-me-tear-me.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">previous</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> </span><a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2007/03/pushing-out-of-comfort-zone.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">posts</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> -<br /><br /><em>"The human brain is also a muscle. And like any other muscle, you have to push it past its limits to make it grow. You have to break the muscle to rebuild it into something stronger and something bigger."</em><br /><br /><em>"There is a saying I believe in. If you aint getting your hands slapped once in a while, you aint pushing the boundaries far enough. To grow you need to pull out of that comfort zone."</em><br /><br /><em>"Till you dont push yourself out of your comfort zone you'll never know what you can achieve. For 20 years I stayed at the same job and didnt move, because of the security. The comfort. I finally decided to move here so I could be closer to home and give more time to my business. Now I wish I had done this 10 years ago. You have to get out of your comfort zone. Initially its hell, but in the end its worth it"</em><br /><br /><em>"If you look at something (roadways, buildings, code, people) and dont see any de/construction going on, then either they are dying.... or perhaps, already dead."</em><br /><br /><br /><br />The human body works on a similar mechanism. Your skin will shed layers and regrow. Cells are destroyed and created faster than you can say "Chamarrione Balasubramanian". Growth starts with breaking things down. In most cases.<br /><br />I wonder if its true when it comes to life? Life gives us shit (sometimes), or so we feel. Flunked that test even after studying super-hard? Boyfriend left you? Divorced? Lost your job? Life was smooth till someone close to you is suddenly no more? Has there been an event which has broken you down?<br /><br />When you start training for a marathon (or a 5K), there is a good chance you will collapse on day 1 after running for a mile. There is a good chance you will collapse with muscle pain at two miles, or three miles. And there is a good chance you will give up. Those who do not give up, their muscles rebuild, endurance levels rise and once they overcome the initial pain, they can run the entire length.<br /><br />Replace the marathon with weight training. Start lifting heavier weights and you will feel the pain. The muscle breaks, but rebuilds into something stronger.<br /><br />The same goes with challenging yourself on a mental plane.<br /><br />Is it the same when life challenges you? All of the above are voluntary actions. You decide if you want to run the marathon, lift weights or enjoy a game of Sudoku. What you do not decide is whether that hurricane is going to blow away your house. Or if you are going to marry a psycho who looked perfectly fine before marriage. Its something no normal human would plan or implement. But if it did not happen, perhaps you would not see life the way you see it now. Perhaps its life's way of rebuilding you. Of making you stronger in areas you never would have volunteered to experiment.<br /><br />Remember, when the muscle starts to break is when you feel the maximum pain. But if you keep working on it, this same pain turns into your strength. All you do then is look back at how puny you were then and laugh at it, or how fat you were then and laugh it off. When your life starts to break up, is when you feel the maximum pain. If you can still keep going and push yourself through this temporary phase, you will come out stronger. And in the long run, you will look back and perhaps just laugh at it.<br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">... 19 days to go!</span></em> </span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-85039089269787266142008-09-23T00:52:00.002-04:002008-09-23T00:55:18.976-04:00Tag Karma<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I think its high time I caught up on some tags before 'tag karma' bites me back. I have no clue what tag karma is, I just made it up, so dont ask! Anyways....<br /><br />I was tagged ages ago by </span><a href="http://shortabbreviations.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Solitaire</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> to list down some embarassing moments (like every other post in this blog was not enough). I think there might be a thin line between embarassing and funny, and in most cases, I cant define that line. Everything looks funny to me. But well....<br /><br />- When I was interviewing for this job, and had my interview with the hiring manager, I ended up sitting in his chair. He went out to get coffe, asked me to grab a seat (I swear he pointed in a direction which led to his chair) and when he returned, there I was enjoying his comfy office chair. If any of you are wondering, yes, I did receive a job offer and I did take it up. And no, its not the place I currently work at.<br /><br />- I cant think of any other embarassing moments. Heck, yeah, once I refused to wear pants (please note I was 5 years old then). I have no clue why, but one fine morning I refused to wear pants. So my Mom threw me out of the house and that freaked me out. This resulted in a lot of loud crying, which brought out the neighbors. So here I was, standing outside my house, minus pants, with neighbors staring at me. Please note (again) I was five years old. And I am not too sure who was embarassed more. My neighbors, or myself. But why am I not surprised that one of my neighbors moved out all the way to Spain after that incident. <a href="http://statueofpuberty.blogspot.com/">Abhi's</a> (who is my neighbor) mom still keeps smiling when she looks at me and my third neighbor just cranks up his TV volume so in case I repeat this act again, he wont hear me cry and hopefully miss out on the event! Once again people, I was 5 years old, so stop imagining things! And Mom, if you are reading this - thank you for tossing me out of the house, else I would have never worn pants!<br /><br />And now that I have grossed you guys out and done my one evil deed of the day, I shall move on to my next tag.<br /><br />So I have been tagged by Khizzy in her top five choices for a 'Brilliant Weblog' award (I tell ya people, I am so moving to Pakistan!). You could probably go read the rules etc. on her </span><a href="http://cloudkhizzy.blogspot.com/2008/09/cest-brilliant.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">post</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">. You just have to pass on five people whose blogs you find interesting. Thats tough for me, coz I have a ton of blogs I visit and find many interesting. But I'll throw out five here, which for some reason captivate me. I shall omit those who already have this award, those I have already tagged in this post and those who are not blogging so frequently.<br /><br />1. </span><a href="http://dewdropdream.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">DewdropDream </span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">- Love the way she plays with words. If I apply to B-school, I am hiring her to write my essays!<br /><br />2. </span><a href="http://tazeen-tazeen.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Tazeen </span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">- You got to love her. She takes inspiration from me telling her that her blog is boring. So she holds a live grenade in her hand and clicks photos of classmates sleeping (alone and with each other) during a training in Italy!<br /><br />3. </span><a href="http://princessbanter.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Princess Banter</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> - She will blog once a month, but make the wait worth it. I just like her style and ways she blows you off with some of her theories (or her friends theories)<br /><br />4. </span><a href="http://accidentallyso.wordpress.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Menagerie </span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">- She can put down the most ordinary day of her life in the most amazing fashion possible.<br /><br />5. </span><a href="http://iyerospace.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Iyerospace </span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">- Just so everyone believes I am not reading blogs written by women! But Iyer is Iyer. Leave your brains aside and read his blog. Its like watching a Govinda movie. Dont apply too much logic to it. A good break from the serious sorts!<br /><br />6. </span><a href="http://madamemahima.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Mahi </span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">- I know I was supposed to tag only five, but I have to tag Mahi more out of fear, else the next time I log onto gchat, I am in for a message which goes something like, "WTF dude! Why was I not tagged! I should be #1 out there! Tag me! NOW!!" </span><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><em>... 21 days to go!</em></span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-79346937915492320622008-09-19T01:49:00.000-04:002008-09-19T01:49:23.880-04:00Dog Wars: Revenge Of The Bitch<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Some things never change. Dogs </span><a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2005/04/doggy-want-apoorva.html"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">chased me then</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">, dogs chase me now! In fact, its become a routine.<br /><br />I jog every other day around the block and there is this one dog who chases me the entire length of his lawn (thank God for electric fences). Its 15 seconds when we are running parallel, 3 meters from each other. Its like he is almost waiting there, everyday, 6 PM, thinking "Where is that fat Indian asshole? Just, where is he?!" And as I make an appreance, he does his little canine gig!<br /><br />Another half a mile into my run and there is a stretch of houses, each one with a dog. So when I run past them its like a dogs musical. The first dog will let out a bark which will warn the others to line up. Within a fraction of a second, each one is out on his/her lawn, growling, barking, randomly running to and fro trying to get a piece of me. There is a miniature pinscher which might be as big as my palm, but likes to come out and bark at me as I run through. Sometimes I wonder if I went running at 6 AM, it would wake up the entire neighborhood.<br /><br />In the past I have thought of making a movie (or perhaps a reality show) on these dogs (or bitches?) chasing me around and calling it Dog Wars: Revenge Of The Bitch (ripped off from Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith). Why do I feel most of America is crazy enough to tune in to a live feed of an Indian running in Michigan, and being chased by dogs. Perhaps every dog could have a number and they could take bets as to which one will break through the electric fence and have a piece of me! Or perhaps I am just going crazy!<br /><br />Today as I walked into the main entrance of my apartment, I noticed a flock of Geese standing right there, staring at me. I tried to shoo them away but they would not budge. And when I got too close, they tried to attack me! So here I was, being chased by Geese (those birds are mighty cool tho'. They put their head down and come straight at ya!).<br /><br />I tell ya, I am so a candidate for prime-time NBC reality shows!</span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-84276961280332215742008-09-14T00:01:00.000-04:002008-09-14T00:01:00.807-04:00Wet Balls<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Michigan has three primary religions. 20% Christian. 2% other and 78% FOOTBALL.<br /><br />And now that football season has kicked in, every Saturday is spent with friends, drinking, eating and cursing Michigan as they fumble, get sacked and lose!<br /><br />Today, in midst of the Michigan v/s Notre Dame game, which was watched by 9 drunk Casucasians and 1 drunk Indian, it started raining (at the game). The commentator says, "Both teams had been expecting rain and were seen practicing with wet balls before this game"<br /><br />Yes, we are still laughing.</span></div><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><em>... 30 days to go! </em></span>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-72114440149897843072008-09-13T01:06:00.000-04:002008-09-13T01:07:02.612-04:00Why I Should Move To Pakistan!<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Coz women in Pakistan who are chosen as "blogger of the month" nominate me in their pick for top 5 blogs (Ok, only one woman does, but what the hell. My 2 secs in the limelight!).<br /><br /></span><a href="http://teabreak.pk/tazeen-september-s-blogger-of-the-month/6161/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Here is the article</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">. Look for #7.<br /><br />And also I could hunt down Wasim Akram. Dont ask me why. I just need him to help me out with my run-up and bowling style. Abhi had a post on my bowling style, unfortunately I couldnt find it to link to it. Anyways, I digress.<br /><br />Thanks </span><a href="http://tazeen-tazeen.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Tazeen</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><em>...31 days to go! </em></span></span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-1148875116414996712008-09-07T23:03:00.001-04:002008-09-07T23:04:53.991-04:00Fanaa: Attack Of The Gujju Ladies<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I was reading the many posts I had in draft and came across this one I wrote way back in June 2006. Since its been a while that I have blogged about being hounded by Gujju aunties, here goes, a blast from the past!<br /><br />Note: The post is as was typed in June 2006.<br /><br />--------------------------------------------------------<br /></span><br /><br /></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">26th May, Vin and myself decide to head out to the <strike>desiplex</strike> cinemaplex at Laurel and watch the 9 PM Fanaa show. Irrespective of what people had to say, I couldnt miss an Aamir-Kajol starrer. As is the norm when one goes with me for a movie, we reached a good one hour early. I always like to be a lil early and get the <em>'better'</em> seats.<br /><br /><em><strong>"We will start entry by 8:30 or so"</strong></em>, said the lady who handed me the tickets. Half an hour passes by and I jump into the cinema hall and go grab one of the <em>'better'</em> seats. Vin walks in a few minutes later, amused at my antics. And then, one by one, all the Patel, Shah and Mehta families start walking in. The row in front of me gets loaded by aunties who should be charged double for admission, and the row behind me by a family who prolly needed 3 vans to get them to the theatre. And then the row in front and the row behind me realize they know each other and start yapping across in the most fluent Gujju.<br /><br /><strong>Row behind me:</strong> <em>"Aitla aagad kem, aiyaa paachad aavo"</em><br /><strong>Row in front of me:</strong> <em>"Aitloo paachad thee majja naa aave, aagad thee saras"</em><br /><br />(Translated, "Why so in front, come here behind" - "Its no fun from behind, front is good").<br /><br />Vin does not understand Gujarati and I really didnt wanna translate this. Couple of minutes pass by and soon the entire theatre is getting jam packed with Gujjus. Worse. They happen to know everyone around! And the scene soon resembled one of a Mumbai fish market, minus the smell. And in all this a friend of mine (also a Patel) calls up.<br /><br /><em>"Where are you?"<br />"In the theatre, for Fanaa"<br />"Ok, even I am coming, can u buy tickets for me?"<br />"Ok..."<br />"5 tickets. I have my finacee, bro in law, mom in law and dad in law. So buy 5 tickets and hold 5 places."<br />"Ok..."<br /></em><br />So I walk out and get 5 tickets, and Vin n me are now strategically seated. Me on an aisle seat, and Vin, on the other side, leaving 5 seats between us. And this is when all the fun starts.<br /><br />The cinema hall soon gets all packed up. And Gujju aunties keep walking up to me.<br /><br /><em>"Are those seats taken?"<br />"yes"<br /></em><br />Thats how the conversation went most of the time. With a few exceptions.<br /><br />One Gujju Auntie walks up and starts going past me, assuming the people on the first row were all blind and missed these five spots in the back-row.<br /><br /><em>"Sorry, someone is coming here"<br />"Oh, I just want one seat"<br />"Yes, but there are 7 of us, so we need all these seats"<br />"You cant give me one seat?"<br />"I am sorry....."</em><br /><br /><br />Then walk in two <strike>hot</strike> super-hot ABCD chicks.<br /><br /><em>"Are these seats taken?"<br /></em>What followed was the biggest trauma of my life. Do I say yes and ask them to move on, and live the rest of my life with the Patel family, or, do I say no, and live the rest of my life with super-hot ABCD chicks. Happily.<br /><em>"Yeah, I am sorry. <strike>But you can sit on my lap</strike>"<br />"All of them? We just need twooooo seats", says one of the super hot chick, all pouting, as she runs her fingers through her hair.<br />"Yup, all of them. I have some folks coming in soon"<br /></em>-Sigh-<br /><br />So while I sit there all frustrated, Mr. Patel calls, saying he is outside. Vin says there is no way he can handle the Gujju clan while I am gone, so he happily volunteers to go out and get the Patels, while now I have to man both sides of the fort. <em>Vin = sissy!</em><br /><br />And this is when two Gujju ladies with a little kid who apparently looked more clever than the ladies start walking past me.<br /><br /><em>"Ma'am, these are all taken"<br />"All??? I just need two!!"</em>, said Gujju lady 1, staring at me, with wide eyes. Trust me, scary sight.<br /><em>"Sorry, I have someone coming here."<br /><strong>"REALLY? WHERE ARE THEY?"</strong></em>, she screams at me in the most rude fashion, almost making me jump in my seat.<br /><br />And her rudeness suddenly makes me snap.<br /><br /><em>"They are in the restroom. If you wait for a couple of minutes, you could meet them. But if you are really anxious, you can go to the restroom"<br /></em><br /><strong>Gujju Lady 2:</strong> <em>"Whats he saying?"</em><br /><strong>Gujju Lady 1:</strong> <em>"He says we can wait for few minutes and if no one shows up we can sit"</em><br /><strong>Gujju Lady 2:</strong> <em>"That is so stupid. Hull-o? You cant say that. We want to sit."</em><br /><strong>Me:</strong> <em>"Ma'am, I didnt say that. These seats are taken"</em>, and I repeat what I had said, minus the meeting them in the restroom part.<br /><br /><strong>Gujju Lady 1:</strong> <em>"This is not correct. You cant reserve seats like this. I am going in."</em><br /><strong>Me:</strong> <em>"Ma'am if you are so the believer of the right and the wrong, and what is correct and what is not, then it is only virtuous that all the people who asked me if they could sit here before you did should get the option of sitting here, rather than the front row they are sitting in now. So let me go get those people first and if they decline my offer of a better seat to what they are seated in for now, you could sit here. Dont you think that is 'correct'?"</em><br /><br />And I have never seen such confused faces. And then I heard the words I was so expecting to hear.<br /><br /><strong>Gujju Lady 1:</strong> <em>"I am calling the manager"</em><br /><strong>Me:</strong> <em>"<strike>Sure, I know you need someone to translate my last few words of wisdom</strike> If I were you, I wouldnt waste my time. Coz by the time you get the manager, my folks would be here, happily seated, and you would not be able to prove anything. More so, by standing and making a senseless argument here, you are losing some of the available seats and might end up on the front row"</em><br /><br />Mentally, I was wondering what the hell is taking Vin so long. <em>And also, when is she gonna slap me.</em><br /><br />Fortunately Vin appeared with the Patel clan, and Gujju Ladies gave me the <em>'I would kill you if I could'</em> look and moved on.<br /><br /><strong>Vin:</strong> <em>"Whats up with those ladies man? I am scared of this place. I have never seen so many Gujjus in Bangalore. And this is freaking Maryland, USA! I am never coming here again"</em><br /><br /><br />Me? I am going for the next big release for sure. And holding up seats. I have never had so much fun. And I have never seen this side of me before. The arrogant-screw-you side!<br /><br />The two Gujju ladies, I thank y'all for awakening the devil in me!<br /><br /><br /><strong>**Disclaimer (to any Gujju reading this, or anyone who found any content offensive):</strong><br /><em>I love Gujjus. Many of my close friends/family are Gujjus. Please take this post in the same humour as its written. I also know its wrong to hold seats, but all the Gujjus should forgive me since I was holding them for five Patels!</em></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><em>.... 37 days to go! </em></span>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-54982555704955409472008-09-03T00:30:00.001-04:002008-09-03T00:31:32.565-04:00Macchar Jhol<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I headed off with a good school friend to this bar in Chicago where we were supposed to meet a group of his friends and their extended friends. Very soon there were some 20 of us in a bar with music so loud that I could not hear their names when introduced. So I settled down with my regular drink and caught highlights of the Michigan v/s Utah game and drank some more over Michigans loss.<br /><br />Just then this girl crashed onto the barstool next to mine. Almost out of breath with the dancing and perhaps a little too drunk. In my eyes, entertainment had just planted its butt next to mine.<br /><br />"Tired?", I asked, sipping on my rum n coke.<br /><br />She turned my way and slowly checked me out head to toe. I put that down to too much alcohol as she nodded a yes.<br /><br />"I dont think I got your name", I said, taking another gulp of my drink.<br /><br />"Shar", she said (name abbreviated for privacy concerns). A very typical Bengali name.<br /><br />"Allow me to guess", I said, "Its Shar Banerjee?"<br />"No"<br />"Chatterjee?"<br />"No"<br />"Mukherjee?"<br />"No"<br />"Ganguly!!"<br /><br />Still no. This was not going too well. I looked at my fifth glass of alcohol, looked at Shar and said to myself, "Go for it".<br /><br />"So can you cook Macchar Jhol?", I asked, and made a self note that I must be the first guy ever in a crowded Chicago bar to ask a chick high on alcohol about cooking fish, Bong style.<br /><br />The reaction was even more surprising. "Nope. Cant make it, but can eat it", she said and then looked at me rather suspiciously. "How do you know about Macchar Jhol?"<br /><br />"I am a Bong"<br />"No way! Whats your name?"<br />"Arvindo" (yes people, I was trying my level best to keep a poker face here)<br /><br />And then my dear friend X turns up out of nowhere, "Hey Apoorva, get on the dance floor with me". I am pulled into the crowd despite many a protest and Shar is lost in the background.<br /><br />End of the night and we are walking out of the club when I come across Shar again. "Apoorva, do you know why you cant be Bengali?", she asks. "Hey! Apoorva can be a Bengali name. Just pronounce it as Opporvo", I reply.<br /><br />We both laugh and she says, "No, because Bong men just cannot dance".<br /><br />"There can always be exceptions", I protest, "Else all Bong women would know how to make Macchar Jhol"<br /><br />We laugh again, and say our goodbyes, knowing we'll never meet again. I weave my way through hundreds of people crowding Chicago's Rush & Division neighbourhood to X's car, wondering if she just said that I am a good dancer? I cant dance for nuts! She must have meant Bong men can dance. But thats not true as well. Except Mithun Chakraborthy.<br /><br />Hugs, good night and a pillow!</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span> </div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;"><em>...41 days to go</em></span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-27086891370397337992008-08-20T22:00:00.002-04:002008-08-20T22:00:00.378-04:00Some Things Never Change<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">* Still needs the early morning coffee. And that too will be licked off my fingers. And if one drop falls off before she can get to it, off she goes into a corner and frowns.<br /><br />* Still needs the <em>chapatti and rice with dal</em>, cooked fresh. She wont eat the leftovers from yesterday.<br /><br />* Still loves it when you run your fingers over her head. She could just let you do that all day.<br /><br />* Will wake me up every morning, is waiting into the late hours of the night for me to come home.<br /><br />* Still asks for a kiss and makes the best smooching sounds.<br /><br /><br />I am talking about my pet parrot back home in India. Sunny. Who we still refuse to accept as a female. Come on, we got him home when he was 15 days old and the person who sold him to us said "Its a male". Male parrots develope a round red and black stripe around their necks when they turn two or three years old. So we waited, for a good three years, checking everyday for when Sunny will grow that stripe. And one fine day (s)he laid an egg. So scratching my head and staring at that egg, I said, "So now what? We change his name to Sonali?"<br /><br />Too late. By this time, Sunny was a well grown talking parrot. Not only would he say what we taught him, but he would also pick up lines which were not meant for him to learn.<br /><br />When Dad used to get home, he used to walk up to Sunny and say, "Sunny beta, whats happening?" and very soon Sunny was mimicking him with a "Sunny Beta, whats happening?" Hence it was too late to change this to "Sunny beti" and despite laying eggs and exhibiting all the <em>nakhras</em> any female would, Sunny was still referred to as a male.<br /><br />As a kid I used to kiss him, and thats how he picked up those smooching sounds. A very embarassing moment when guests are sitting in the living room and there are smooching sounds coming out of the bedroom.<br /><br />This time when I was in India, we tried to get him to talk. No luck. When you want him to talk, he'll just sit there, staring at you like the Buddha. And when you lie down to sleep, he'll start off. Get up quickly, get out the camera, and he'll stare at you like the Buddha. Perhaps he is camera shy. No idea. However, I love to piss him off. So since he refused to talk one fine day, I decided to spray him with water. He loves the water but hates it when it gets in his nostrils. No points for guessing what I was aiming for (ok, not really, I love him too much for that, but once in a while I do like to piss him off). Dad was playing around with the videocam and it seems the water actually distracted Sunny from the presence of a camera and we managed to film him speak a few words.<br /><br />Its basically two lines<br /><br />1. Sunny Beta (no explanation needed for that)<br />2. Kashyala ooradto tu? (In Marathi, it means - "Why are you shouting?")<br /><br />Check out the video and see if you can figure out what he is saying.<br /><br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xEZgo5gfTAA&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xEZgo5gfTAA&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><strong>Up next: Why my friends hate me!</strong><br /><br />Disclaimer: No animals were harmed in the making of this video. Cameraman does not discriminate based on race, sex, tv viewing habits or choice of underwear.<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:78%;">..... 55 days to go</span></em></span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-58987651946751406332008-08-18T23:46:00.003-04:002008-08-18T23:48:30.988-04:00Summarized<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I have gazillion posts, all half written and never published. Sometimes, in the midst of writing something comes up and you think you'll come back to the post later. That never happens and the post just rots. Now I have no inclination to go about with this unfinished business hence the two people who read this blog shall, for the first time in its history, read an incomplete post!<br /><br />I had written this post just as I returned from my India trip, sometime way back in May. If you have not been following what I wrote above, yes, it is incomplete!<br /><br /><br />* When friends used to come from abroad and say they feel the pollution in the city, I used to laugh at them. The firt time I returned home, I felt the smokey fumes the moment I stepped out of the airport. However this time I did not. I didnt go on a sneezing spree and didnt suffer an upset stomach. Something must be wrong with me.<br /><br />* Traffic, traffic, traffic. Autowallas rigging their meters, asking return fare for a one way journey, constructing malls in the tighest of spaces, rude turning ruder, not obeying traffic signals, and sky rocketing prices. Not the Bombay I grew up in. But the Mumbai I have started to accept.<br /><br />* I was surprised by the Rs. 20/- Churchgate return fare. Also, I have no idea which idiot moved the previous ticketing system to a dot matrix printer. Now the ticket clerk goes through a huge amount of time entering data and then waits eons for the ticket to print. The system earlier was much simpler and faster. He used to punch the ticket and bam! You are ready to go. But I digress. I remember the days after my 10th grade. For "apparently" studying diligently, I was allowed to get out of the house and party everyday.... well, party like a 10th grader. I got 100 bucks in the morning and some of my friends and I used to take the train to Churchgate (Rs. 8/- return). Getting there, we either ate at some crappy roadside place or treated ourself to Sundance cafe on an odd day. Split a cab to Regal, or walk it up, watch a movie from the dress circle for Rs. 43/-, hang out around town and take the Andheri Local back home, get off at Parle, have a softy and call it quits. That was the norm. All in a 100 bucks.<br /><br />* We walked in for an afternoon show at Cinemax. Rs. 250/- a person. What happened to the good old 100 bucks a day time?<br /><br />* I was walking up Juhu with a friend. We started from Prithvi's and passed by the Centaur to Mahesh Lunch home (where we decided to return for our dinner) and kept walking past the JW till we hit Shiv Sagar. Somewhere nostalgia got the better of me and we ended with Pav Bhaji and a Falooda at Shiv Sagar.<br /><br />* We took the cool cab into town, which in the smouldering heat was pleasant. We got onto Bus # 324 for our return journey. For some reason I kept smiling all through that return journey holding onto the window and staring out like a child.<br /><br />* Mc'Donalds with a desi touch might be nice, but nothing beats the Chocolate Ball at Merwans.<br /><br />* One fine evening I took the train back from town. Getting off at Andheri, I walked into Merwans and saw they have a few loafs of bread. Just for the background, Merwans bread/rolls sell out by 5 PM, such is the demand. I called home, and asked Mom if she wants bread from Merwans. "Apoo, they sell out by 5 PM. Its 8 PM" was the reply. When I told her I was at Merwans and they had bread, "Get two" were the exact words I heard. I walked home with bread, chicken rolls and a huge bunch of assorted pastries. That was dinner. A friend of mine is so fascinated with Merwans she went and chatted up with the owner for some time and clicked his photo.<br /><em>(update: I was going to put up a photo here, but now have no idea where the photo might be)</em><br /><br />* Why does Mumbai remind me of bureaucracy, of politics, of something new, but broken? And why does Bombay remind me of love, romance, something charming and old? I'll be damned if I do not return to my favorite city on planet earth!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">...... 57 days to go</span></em></span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-3541489540525672972008-08-03T23:20:00.002-04:002008-08-03T23:26:44.848-04:00Ek! Sirf Ek....<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">So if you came across an American who had never traveled outside America, and asked you to recommend one Bollywood movie for his/her viewing.....<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Which one movie would you recommend?</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><strong>Note:</strong> Not looking to educate him/her on the Indian culture or anything else through this movie. Perhaps, just make him/her appreciate Bollywood, or "Wow" the person.<br /></span><br /><em><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">* 72 days to go.... </span></em></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-17759941185190658852008-07-27T17:16:00.000-04:002008-07-27T17:17:05.883-04:00Employee Discount<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Have you ever tried the Chinese food they serve at the mall? Its consistently bad. A total rape of Chinese food. And all Americans fall for it. On any given day you'll find a line as long as the Great Wall of China waiting for their turn of General Tso chicken. Traditionally I have always been interested in the free samples handed out. But sometimes I am overcome by this urge for American Chinese food (perhaps each time I feel they might have improved, or it just reminds me of the Indian Chinese on the streets of Bombay) and I indulge in some. Today was one such <em>fine</em> day.<br /><br />As I get to the cashier, she looks up at me, punches in some numbers and this is the conversation which follows:<br /><br />She: <strong>"After employee discount, it's $2.79"</strong><br />Me: <strong>"I am not..... <em>(pause)</em> ....here is $3.00"</strong><br /><br />So I am spending the rest of my Sunday trying to analyze if<br /><br />1. I look Chinese?<br />2. I have been hanging out a little too much at the mall?<br />3. I have been working at the Chinese food place and am unaware of the same?<br />4. I can get equally lucky when purchasing an over-the-top out-of-budget jacket from the Armani Exchange?<br /><br />#3 looks more of a possibility!</span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-21296354427814671572008-07-20T03:32:00.000-04:002008-07-20T03:32:13.747-04:00Desi Influx?<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Grand Rapids is a city on the west side of Michigan. Grand Rapids is where I have planted my lousy ass for the last 10 months. Grand rapids has a 99.99% Caucasian population. I think I am the only Indian in Grand Rapids.<br /><br />That was an exaggeration, but you know what I mean. In NY, every 5th person is Indian. In NJ, every 5th person is American. All others are desis. Something similar in DC. Having lived across most of these areas over many years, there has not been a day gone by when I have not seen a desi face (no, I am not talking about staring at myself in the mirror). In Grand Rapids, I could go on for months without a desi face. So you get where I am going.... right? No desis here.<br /><br />Today I was walking in this mall and came across one of those stalls (do they call 'em stalls here?) where chinese women massage you (which usually looks more like they are practicing Kung-Fu on ya) or some women are getting some eye threading done on the cheap. This stall looked more like the eye threading one, with a resaonable number of women waiting for their turn. As I walked past, I stopped dead still, stared stared and stared. And stared some more. Three huge face close-up posters of three beautiful women pasted all over the area, showing the perfect eyes with perfect eyebrow threading. The women?<br /><br />1. Bipasha Basu<br />2. Deepika Padukone<br />3. Aishwarya Rai<br /><br />And a dozen Caucasian women seated under those posters, getting their eyebrows threaded.<br /><br />On a different note, I just got back from the screenign of The Dark Knight. I felt its well made, but over-hyped. Yes, I like Heath Ledger's performance. I like the way he flicks his tongue out while talking. Like a serpent. Nice. I think I'll start copying that. At least during weekly meetings at work. And on first dates. Yes. Nice. I like!</span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-52235445949955501722008-06-27T05:00:00.000-04:002008-06-27T05:00:01.076-04:00Hello World!<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Long time! And I have many an excuse for what kept me away from blogworld.<br /><br />First, my car. After coming back from India, someone decided to put in a dent in the front of my car and as I contemplated reporting it, I found a nail happily buried in the tire. In the process of fixing the flat, I realized only the drivers side window works and the rest do not slide up (or down). So I moved into the mechanics house and spent few days educating myself on fixing cars.<br /><br />Once this was done with, my laptop decided to conk off. Did I tell anyone I got a new laptop like.... 3 weeks ago. And after working fine for few days it refused to accept any electrical input. Few weeks were spent waiting for SONY to send a technician home, who ripped the entire laptop apart and changed the motherboard. Hence, after car education, I was into laptop education.<br /><br />And I thought since I am getting so much of an education, I might as well try to get it from Harvard. Hence most evenings are spent reading up on the GMAT. Now let me tell you about the GMAT. This is no piece of cake. My entire life I have played around with the system. Wanna know how I passed my 10th grade? And my 12th Grade? And my engineering? Ok, all you guys who are still in your teens, writing exams and cursing yourself on having to cram every small letter in a book which resembles the encyclopaedia. What I tell you now is the guide to your success.<br /><br />In most of my exams, we used to have questions which went - "Answer any 7 out of the 10" or something similar. Now this was my strategy. Let me first warn you, I was a duffer. I never knew more than 5 or 6 out of those 10 answers. So if you are the kinds who knows 11 out of 10, this tip is not for you. Well, this is how I went about answering the questions:<br /><br />Answer 3<br />Answer 7<br />Answer 1<br />Answer 9<br />Answer 2<br />Answer 3<br />Answer 8<br /><br />Notice something? I answered Question 3 twice, happily avoiding 10, 4, 5 and 6. 90% of the time, the examiner would not notice I have answered Q3 twice. All that was verified was I answered 7 questions, total it up and write down the marks for that section. 10% of the time, I have seen a red mark, something saying answer is repeated.<br /><br />When is it safe to do this?<br />- When you are absolutely sure that the best you can get in the other four questions is a zero.<br />- When the answer sheet does not have a grid box on the main (first page) having a space for evaluating every question (you know those irritating little boxes which have 1a, 1b, 1c etc. typed in it and all the examiner has to do is fill in the marks next to each box).<br /><br />What you should do:<br />- The answer which you repeat, please do not write it word to word matching to the previous one. The examiner is gonna say, "Didnt I read these exact words before?" (unless you are asked to quote). Write it in a different way. In fact, keep it little incomplete and lose a point or two if you like.<br /><br />Variations:<br />Answer 3<br />Answer 7<br />Answer 1<br />Answer 9<br />Answer 2<br />Answer 3<br />Answer 8<br />Answer 10<br />Answer 5<br /><br />You didnt know 10 or 5 too well, but good enough to perhaps get a point or two. In this case, the examiner is going to pick the top seven answers as per your score in each one. If he figures out you have repeated Q3, he will just mark it out and award you points from 10 or 5. Caveat: You need the time to attempt those extra questions.<br /><br /><br />For those who are not aware, the GMAT follows a pattern where all questions are compulsory. Which is my third reason for not being visible on the blogworld. I need to sit and study as all my above theories which got me all the way to an engineering degree have been tossed into the bin. And as I read this post again, I notice so many grammatical errors, which is an indication that I need to work more on my sentence correction!<br /><br />If you come across someone who could pass off as my twin, and happens to have taken the GMAT with an 800 score, kindly get his phone #. I would much appreciate it.</span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-31183747238170675152008-05-31T22:42:00.001-04:002008-05-31T22:42:52.582-04:00The Truth Is.....<center><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9JkwSt3Xjj2P_2jxHVZnfxiqkww-Ip6nKEulEHingIQb4XCpP1N_D-oG1wm5Ipo7gXv-JNiAyvL3YTEgC4WItcyU8gyK6VTh67GLF_kAKZxN3BDfvOdLYJ7AAyqmPio3qVEEgg/s1600-h/IMG_1811.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206737420824622482" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9JkwSt3Xjj2P_2jxHVZnfxiqkww-Ip6nKEulEHingIQb4XCpP1N_D-oG1wm5Ipo7gXv-JNiAyvL3YTEgC4WItcyU8gyK6VTh67GLF_kAKZxN3BDfvOdLYJ7AAyqmPio3qVEEgg/s400/IMG_1811.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"><strong>I AM IRON MAN</strong></span><br /><br /><br /></center>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-42075089278150035692008-05-25T06:18:00.003-04:002008-05-25T06:25:22.962-04:00We Are Family (Continued)<div style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Whatever our background, I think deep down my family is Parsee.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">My Dad still drives the 1984 car which shines like a brand new Maserati.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We still have the Godrej cupboard which was purchased in the 1970's.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I still wear clothes I wore in 1985.</span><br /><br />Not to say the Parsee's do the above (surely not clothes from 1985), but they are on the whole famous for living in the ancient-family-passed-on by generations world. You can identify a car owned by a Parsee. You can walk into a house and you know it belongs to a Parsee household just looking at the grand aristocratic furniture passed on by generations.<br /><br />Anyways the essence of this post is my familys tedency not to part with anything pre-historic. My Mom will have every small thing packed and stored away (including plastic bags) for you never know when it might be useful. And our PC at home. An old dilapidated Pentium - II and a Funai monitor. When you switch on the same, the image on the screen vibrates incessantly till Dad slams the side of the monitor and it stabilizes. Click on the Internet Explorer icon, walk away, have a cup of coffee, get your kids married, watch them grow old and hopefully by then IE would have launched. Ok, you get the idea!<br /><br />So this time round I decided to drop my laptop (which in itself is 5 years old) for good ol' Dad. So now we have the P-II tower, the Funai monitor and my laptop kept besides each other. However, everytime I head towards the laptop, I see it replaced by a mousepad. After putting the mousepad away, getting the laptop back into position, setting up the net etc etc. the next day, the laptop is again replaced by a mousepad and the net cable connected to the P-II monster.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">So now I have a morning ritual. Connect the laptop to the net.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">My Dad has an evening ritual. Disconnect the laptop and connect the P-II to the net.</span><br /><br />I tell ya..... Parsee!<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">On a side-note. Talking of Parsee's reminds me of a friend I had in mithibai college who was named Percy. During one lecture the prof asked him to stand up and this was the conversation which followed:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Prof:</span> Are you Parsee?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Percy:</span> No, its Percy.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Time to fly back to the USA. I have had such an awesome time in Mumbai, sometimes I wonder why am I even going back. And that too of all places.... west Michigan. Nothing against the place but it would be nice if I actually saw some people there. And until I buy a new laptop I am gonna be offline. But I'll put up a post of what I did and who I killed as soon as I am back to the online world.<br /><br /></span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8714956.post-44350844390915543712008-05-08T08:00:00.001-04:002008-05-08T08:54:29.202-04:00We Are Family<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify;font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> Dude, what do you want from the US?<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Cousin Bro (CB):</span> Hmmmm...<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> Should I get the Wii?<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">CB:</span> No! Get me basketball shorts!<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> Huh? One sec, I got you 4 basketball shorts last time.<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">CB:</span> Man, they didnt have pockets! Can you get me basketball shorts with pockets?<br /><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> Ok, anything you want from here?<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Mom:</span> Ummm.... when we were in Walmart...<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> OK! No Walmart. Anything but Walmart!<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Mom:</span> Arre... but those gloves I got from there, they were really nice!<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> OK, tell me to get you perfumes! Body creams... shoes...<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Mom:</span> You get all that in India, Apoo. I couldnt find those gloves here!<br /><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> What do you want from USA? (in a slightly given up tired tone)<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Aunt:</span> You sound so tired. You come here and get married.<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> I am tired of people not answering my questions! What do you want? I am pathetic at shopping stuff for you women, so please help before I end buying something stupid like a size 15 shoe!<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Aunt:</span> See, if you get married your wife will shop for all of us!<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> I am getting you a handbag!<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Aunt:</span> No! Get me icebreakers!<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> You get icebreakers in India right?<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Aunt:</span> You get everything in India, but get me icebreakers!<br /><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> What do you want from here?<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Mama:</span> Lets see! I dont have a laptop and I have been thinking of getting one.<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> Now you talking! What config?<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Mama:</span> But then, I have a PC at home, a PC at work. I doubt I am going to log on in the train. Whats the use of a laptop? Do this, just gimme cash!<br /><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> Dad?<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Dad:</span> What time does your flight get here?<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> What do you want from US?<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Dad:</span> Nothing beta, you come here!<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Me:</span> Do you realize the customs guy is going to be verrry disappointed when I walk through with empty bags?<br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Dad:</span> Last time I was visiting you, I forgot my jeans there. Can you carry those?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />If you work in the Bombay imigration/customs and see two empty bags pass through the scanner - its ME!<br /><br /><br />I'll be back home for two weeks starting May 10th. Anyone wanna hang around, just drop me an email.<br /><br />Also, I fly out of my favorite Gujju airport. Newark, NJ. So if you are looking for an entertaining post, keep your fingers crossed that I find another <a href="http://heartcurry.blogspot.com/2005/12/ijalpa-icircuit-igujju.html">iJalpa</a> sitting next to me.</span></div>APOOhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13642801048297681715noreply@blogger.com17