tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91404056300153263332024-03-13T03:17:46.261-07:00A crazy bum muses...Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-23928356410657582312011-04-21T04:09:00.000-07:002011-04-21T04:09:53.977-07:00Of Panipuri and Politics<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> You probably know what this post is all about, if not, read <a href="http://www.indianexpress.com/news/Attack-on-paani-puri-vendors--Case-against-MNS-men/777249/">this</a>, <a href="http://www.indianexpress.com/news/puneites-shun-pani-puri-bhel;-vendors-come-under-scanner/777522/">this</a>, and <a href="http://www.indianexpress.com/news/mns-men-attack-n-indian-paani-puri-vendors-in-city/776384/">this</a>. Most of you, like me, must also have had <i>panipuris </i>at a roadside shop. Of all the times when you were stuffing yourselves silly with the tasty, super high calorie snack, did you ever stop and wonder where those hands serving you had been? Now, I sure hope that you haven't stopped eating panipuris just because of a video that was shown on television over and over again, zoomed in and zoomed out ad nauseum, pausing for time so that you could run to the loo, puke out your lunch, and be back in time to watch some more 'news'.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The aftermath of all that coverage by 'news' channels resulted in quite a few upset stomachs, the same stomachs that had rarely, if ever, been upset after eating <i>panipuris </i>and <i>bhels </i>at much shadier locations. Later, in the presence of news cameras, quite a few vendors were manhandled, and their scope for having a dinner from their meager earnings destroyed. Evening snackers, definitely not suffering from a lack of choice, moved on to other options without a second thought, and satiated their hunger.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Take a step back for a moment here, and look at it from a cynic's point of view. Panipuris have been in existence for at least a few centuries now, if not less. In all these years, I don't suppose the snack has been cooked in refined oil by people who have washed their hands with Dettol and then further sanitized them with Purell. Come to think of it, do <i>you wash your hands </i> with soap after every visit to the loo? Since forever, roadside snacks have been prepared the way everyone knows they are. Nothing has changed for a long time, and nothing is going to change that, live with it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The sole reason that this was publicised so much is that the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena(MNS), starved for airtime, needed an issue to come to the limelight, and conveniently found it in the form of panipuri-wallahs; poor people who come from the cow belt to Bombay to earn a living. Now, I am in no way justifying the unhygienic behavior of the vendors, and I absolutely believe that just because something has been done in a certain way in the past is no reason to continue doing it in the future. Some things have to change, but this is not the way to do it. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The MNS workers who beat up the vendors should also go and check out how the Vada-Pao, indigeneous to Maharashtra, is made, if they are really that serious about hygiene. Oh, and while they are at it, they should check up on the dosa-wallahs too, they just might find something fishy in there, and then proceed to beat up the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bal_Thackeray#Controversies">South Indians</a> and try to send them back to 'where they came from', as their patriarch has done before. Sarcasm apart, they should sponsor and maintain public toilets, take care of the heaps of garbage in the cities and villages, and maybe look into their own leaders' homes to rid the world of filth. Political mileage is no justification for making people lose their livelihoods, and at times their lives. If these parties are really serious about bringing about change, they should take <b>constructive </b>steps towards it, and not randomly beat up people.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Coming back to the title of this blog, the lesson should be clear by now: <i>Don't mix your panipuris with politics.</i></span></div></div>Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-24189225593365368182011-04-08T04:16:00.000-07:002011-04-08T04:16:00.200-07:00Not Leaving XLI don’t know what’s worse, leaving a place, or going to that place and finding it empty, devoid of anyone I know, of any activity whatsoever, of any music, or any light emanating from any of the windows. <br />
Each time I go to the gym, I just look at the building adjacent to it, and there’s nobody there. No one poking fun at me from the Saint Thomas balcony for trying to lose weight, or anyone calling me to play badminton and my forgetting all about the gym and playing hours of badminton and turning up at the gym the next day with a sheepish grin. I turn up at the gym pretty regularly now, but there’s no sheepish grinning on my part, just a sad smile on looking at the gym noticeboard full of photographs of my batch mates working out. It’s mostly empty these days, just a few of the GMP regulars who come in the evening for an hour. I miss waiting for the treadmill to free up, for the right set of dumbbells to be let go of, for the right sized exercise ball to be there, for space to do my stretches. <br />
I miss seeing anyone to say hi to every time I step out of my temporary office at the TMDC. I miss getting drunk enough for someone to lend me a shoulder and take me to my room. I know I won’t get as drunk as I did that night, when I was on my way back to my room from the wet night on JLT after 10 odd drinks, and suddenly hungry and tired, I sat down in front of Bishuda wondering whether I should go upstairs and get money from my room, because in my drunken state of mind, I didn’t want to take anything on debt from him, when suddenly somebody asked me, ‘Bhai bhookh lagi hai kya?’, I nodded, and someone was actually feeding me a paratha with their own hands. Yep, I don’t see this happening ever again.<br />
I don’t see myself being woken up by frantic banging on my door in the middle of the night by someone who just wanted to say ‘Hi’. I don’t see myself being robbed of my bucket because the neighbor’s bucket was leaking. I don’t see myself opening the door every morning to see a poster on the door opposite mine which said, “Do not disturb, Hangover in progress.” I don’t think anyone will ever explain Economics to me again the way someone did by dancing while explaining the concepts to me, nor do I think I’ll have anyone borrowing my king-size mirror from my room to get a haircut. I don’t suppose anyone will ride my scooter almost into a gutter at full rev on the first gear, and I definitely don’t think anyone else will ever be game for tea at 3am. <br />
All the crazy things I’ve experienced in these two years, each surpasses the other, and I don’t know what’s more painful; forgetting them or remembering them.Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-28818973924992285812011-04-03T03:36:00.000-07:002011-04-03T03:36:30.574-07:00To Afridi, With Love - Maheen SadiqHere's a very well written post by a Maheen Sadiq, a filmmaker at Maati TV, based out of Karachi. I just happened across this while browsing through someone's facebook profile. <br />
This article is an absolute eye opener as it brings to light what a regular Pakistani thinks about India, a refreshing change from what we are subjected to in the form of government propaganda and supposed "peace" summits that invariably result in war within a few years, putting every effort down the drain. Do read the post, I hope it gives you some food for thought.<br />
<br />
There’s a lot to be said about the cricket tournament, especially our match against India. And it has a lot more to do with Misbah-ul-Haq and Umar Gul’s bad luck, and Sachin Tendulkar’s good fortune. <br />
<br />
Cricket speaks to our nation in a way our government never has. <br />
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And Shahid Afridi addressed the nation in a way our president never has – unselfish, genuine, modest. So when Afridi apologized to Pakistan, millions listened and were humbled by the gesture. Our eyes filled with tears and our hearts with love and strange kind of sorrow. Shahid Afridi, you need not apologize to the nation. We are proud of you and our entire cricket team! You didn’t bring back the cup, but any excitement, any happiness, any hope that Pakistanis have felt in the past few months is because of your brilliance. We’ve been hearing a lot of “Pakistan needs something to celebrate,” but what Pakistanis really needed was something to look forward to, and the green team gave us that with the anticipation of each game played. <br />
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The funny thing about cricket is that it can unite the nation through a victory or a loss. It would have been wonderful to go out on the streets and celebrate with dhols, etc, as we did when we won the 20/20 Cricket World Cup in 2009. But even after our loss yesterday, the people of Pakistan, in their state of disbelief, came out and shared their sorrow. Misery loves company. Cars on streets, people driving around slowly, quietly, patiently. No honking, no cursing, no where to go, no where to escape. It was surreal. This only goes to show what cricket means to us and the massive void it fills for our nation. <br />
<br />
Cricketers, you made us patriotic. You made us passionate. You made us proud. <br />
<br />
And these precious adjectives are some that Pakistan rarely gets the chance to associate itself with. <br />
<br />
So again, Afridi, your apology is appreciated but not needed. You conducted yourself with patience, grace and dignity, encouraging your own with a smile, and congratulating the opponents with an even bigger smile. You didn’t win the semi-finals, but you won our hearts. Thank you for showing the world we are not an aggressive nation. To Pakistan, I propose this: if there’s anyone who needs to apologize it’s us. So to Afridi and the team, I apologize for the pressure I put on you to win the World Cup. It comes from my own shortcomings. So lazy and so cowardly am I that I am incapable of creating for myself a reason to celebrate Pakistan. Since as far as I can remember, my patriotism has tenaciously clung to cricket. It is unfair. I know. <br />
<br />
To those Pakistanis who thought this was a match between Hindus and Muslims, I’m glad India won. This was never a battle between nations, or a jehad against Hindus. It was a semi-final cricket match, and if a loss is what it took to be reminded of this then I’m glad we lost. Victory would have only made you gloat over something you had wrong all along anyway. However, if there was one thing I was relieved to discover it was that we don’t hate India. We may hate America, but we don’t hate India. No burning of the Indian flag, no bitter remarks, no threatening reaction. Phew! Just healthy competition and a pure love for the game. So we don’t hate India. In fact, we hate Zardari. What pleased me even more were the numerous text messages and facebook statuses I came across that poked fun at Zardari. My personal favourite is, “ We congratulate India on winning the semi-finals. As a good-will gesture, India can keep Pakistan’s prime minister. And if it wins the finals, we will give our president too.” <br />
<br />
Ahhh, Zardari jokes. They never get old. He’s our scapegoat now. It’s his fault we lost. Somehow. That being said, think. It’s time we stop asking of our cricketers something we should have been asking of ourselves. Or our government. Lets find ourselves a reason to be patriotic and celebrate Pakistan, and let cricket be a sport, not an identity. If we all just took a little responsibility, maybe our beloved team can finally approach the pitch as cricketers, not as soldiers entering the battlefield. We owe it to them. <br />
<br />
Welcome back, boys!<br />
<br />
Read it? Liked it? Rewired something in your head? Do comment.Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-44846968880171644522010-06-09T03:39:00.000-07:002010-06-09T03:39:06.547-07:00FRAXingI guess I've done enough of that over the past two months, during my internship, while organizing the Bangalore XLRI Alumni Meet, getting my car repaired, and on many other occasions. Not any more though.<br />
So, here it is. My blog-post on FRAX-ing, or Free Riding At XL is a phenomenon that is observed throughout the known universe. Birds have been known to lay their eggs in other birds' nests, leaving the upbringing of their offspring to the hapless victim. People have been known to litter streets leaving the cleanup to the Municipal Corporations.("It's their job, you know!") Rich parents' children have been known to screw up their lives and leave a mess behind for their parents to clean up. ("It's all their fault! They weren't there when we needed them!")<br />
ENOUGH, already. Stop being such whining little bitches. Stop blaming everyone else but yourselves. The world is in such bad shape and all America and Europe can think of are 'austerity measures' ?! I mean, gimme a break here! The goras have FRAXed on their duty to the planet and each other for a long long time now, they have pandered to the wills of corporations, ignoring the rest of the world, the bloody planet even. And now they talk about austerity measures? On the people who have NO hand in their misery? Had the buggers not FRAXed earlier, had they had the balls to stand up and say a stern NO to being corrupted by power and money, things would have been slightly better today.<br />
Now, I know what you will say, and my answer to that is yes, I too have FRAXed. On innumerable occasions I have not been fair to the work that I had to do. I have bad grades to show for it. I have paid for it. But that is the good part. I think it is best that we pay for our mistakes as early as possible. Unfortunately, a lot of our mistakes are paid for in the long run. In the form of our careers, our friends, our spouses, even our lives. What do we do then? Repent? <br />
Are there many options left open to us at that point? Well, there are, and the sad part is that we must choose between two bad ones. I hope it never comes down to that for any of you. So make your choices wisely. Nah, I'm not preaching, just trying to get those gray cells working... Cheers!Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-4448667552304197562010-05-06T07:58:00.000-07:002010-05-06T07:58:03.807-07:00Mile Sur Mera Tumhara…<meta content="text/html; charset=utf-8" http-equiv="Content-Type"></meta><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 12" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CABHISH%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CABHISH%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx" rel="themeData"></link><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CABHISH%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml" rel="colorSchemeMapping"></link><style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">“Can you please…” “This place is…”, we spoke out together. Gitanjali Express, boarded at Nagpur, at 8:16pm on the 14<sup>th</sup> of July 2008, barely a minute after getting into the train. I was on my way back to Jamshedpur, had quit my job after getting bored with it, and she was visiting her relatives in Calcutta. I had already taken my place on the berth and she rushed in with three pieces of luggage on the head of a coolie trailing behind her. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this is my seat”, I said.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> “Please let me sit here for a bit until the TTE comes, I’ll just get my ticket confirmed from him”, she replied and asked the coolie to put her luggage under the seat. The TTE never came to my coupe that night, and with great difficulty, I convinced her to sleep on my berth as I pretended to not be sleepy and went to the doorway of the coach, intending to spend the night by the small seat near the door with my iPod.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> She came to where I was sitting at about 5:00am, and asked me my name. “Abhishek Joshi”, I said, “What’s yours?”, She told me her name. And we spoke with each other into the dawn, asking each other about our respective families, our education, our interests, and then moved on to some heavier stuff, philosophy, love. I was deeply enamored by her eyes. They weren’t exactly brown, they were a shade darker, but they were beautifully shaped. Mrignayani, I’d have said.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> She said that she was perturbed by what was going on in the world, war, environmental destruction, greed. I said that that would always be there, that we humans were hardwired to behave the way we do, and she looked into my eyes and said that it shouldn’t have to be that way.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> And that was it, that earnest look on her face, that innocence in her eyes, maybe she hadn’t seen that much of the world. She wasn’t the cynic that I had become, she was still untouched by the pain that life brings upon the less fortunate. But I knew that she had every reason to be the cynic that I had become so easily. She had lost her parents to the infamous Purushottam-Kalindi train accident a decade ago. Her education had been set back a year as she couldn’t take up her classes at school since she was in shock for 6 months. And yet she had recovered. She had not become a cynic. She still believed that the world was a fair place. That people are intrinsically good. I had read about something of the sort somewhere, hadn’t quite believed it. And here was this beautiful creature of God who was telling me that there is still hope, that there is no reason good enough for us all to give up on ourselves.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> And I knew at that moment that she was the one. Our elders often wonder at how our generation chooses and discards partners so easily, and I agree with them completely. But I connected with her on a completely different level. It wasn’t visceral. It was very much something else. I couldn’t put my finger on it, and she later told me that she couldn’t exactly say what it was either. But that there was something that just <i>connected</i>. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> We stood at that doorway all day that day, never feeling tired. Holding hands. And then holding each other after a while. It was as if the whole world had disappeared all of a sudden. There was only her for me. And only me for her. I don’t know how it happened. My mother would surely have disapproved of my choosing someone for myself that I had only met a few hours earlier. If she had a mother, I’m sure she would have disagreed too.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> The train reached Tatanagar railway station, and I had to get off the train. We exchanged numbers and promised we’d meet again. As she waved goodbye, my Mom asked me, “Who’s that?”. “Somebody”, I replied. And then for a week I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life. Did I want to carry on my father’s business, or did I want to do an MBA? I chose the latter, came to XLRI a few months later. I never forgot about her, but I never met her, too. Life just got too busy. We did keep in touch with each other on the phone though.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> The first two semesters passed by in a blur, and we barely spoke. Come the third term, I decided to call her up one evening. “Hello…””I missed you so…” we again spoke together. It was unmistakable. Each time we had spoken, we had done so together. When her voice and mine came out together, it was like music. “Mile sur mera tumhara, toh sur bane hamara…” the song goes. And I know this for a fact, that when some things are meant to be, there is no stopping them from happening. And it’s also true that when you meet the woman of your dreams, you can actually hear the music playing in the background, everything else just goes blank, and there’s only her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> So, there are no two ways about it, I will meet her again after my summer internship. I will find out if we’re truly meant to be. I don’t really know right now. I have only met her once, but when I do meet her again, I will know for sure. I will know whether the chemistry is really there or whether I was just first time lucky. I know that I’d be right about her if we speak again together. Because when “Mile sur mera tumhara…”, things will really be alright again.</div>Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-77879729333377908092010-02-22T00:32:00.001-08:002010-02-22T00:58:09.765-08:00Leaving XLRI, Lovin' XLRI<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So it's that time of the year again. As February ends, so does the XLRI stay of the batch of 2008-10. I have seen the batch of 2007-09 pass out of college too, I was here in 2008-09, you see, having quit my job, chilling at home. And I had a few good friends in the batch of '09. They were ALL teary eyed on their last days on campus. Clusters of students standing around campus would randomly merge into group hugs. Honestly, I never really understood any of that back then. <div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>But I did know that there <i>is </i>something called the XL culture. Something that would not be seen in most other colleges. The last weekend was a whirlwind of activity on campus, as the famed XL-IIMC sports meet took place. I swear to God, never has 200 people cursing their hearts out sounded so melodious to my ears. And I think that in the midst of that din, of drums being beaten, players being sledged, IIM-C students being insulted to our hearts' content, ladies screaming their lungs out in expletives, I realized the true meaning of XL culture.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It's not about the pay packages that we get, nor about the awesome campus we have, or the brilliant professors and peers, or the beautiful city of Jamshedpur that we live in. It's not about the night-outs, or the sleeping in classes, or DCP, or ACP. It's about love. Yes, that's right. Love. I thought that all that talk about people being in love with a place and a people was nonsense, until I came to XLRI. We were too busy with the *ahem* introductions during the first term, the Summers in the second term, but come the third term, we saw our seniors being placed. All at one go, in record time. And there in we saw the tenacity that undergoing the rigours of studying at XL brings to people. They were all relaxed and confident throughout the process, seeing their friends get placed before them, companies handing out shortlists randomly, job losses and what not. That strength, I now believe, comes from love. The love that we have for our friends and for our alma mater. See? That's where XL culture comes from: Love.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>In 2011, as we leave the college, I cannot say what our state will be. But I can say this: We will leave, happy, sad, and in tears. I love you, XLRI.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div>Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-49219401551100418872010-02-15T11:04:00.000-08:002010-02-15T11:21:35.888-08:00"Good Night, Sweet Dreams"<div><div>I call her up late at night today, </div><div><div>later than usual. </div><div>She is sleeping, </div><div>I imagine how beautiful she must look,</div><div>as she sleeps.</div><div>She picks up the phone,</div><div>says "What took you so long?"</div><div>"I had no money in my cell", I say,</div><div>"We can't talk for long".</div><div>"It's okay, I had a long day, we'll talk tomorrow"</div><div>She says that she'll call me up tomorrow at night.</div><div>I wait with bated breath as she whispers</div><div>those magical words.</div><div>"Good night, sweet dreams."</div><div>And I know she really means it.</div></div></div>Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-54595550327772404832010-02-13T10:30:00.000-08:002010-02-13T10:54:42.557-08:00My Name is Joshi<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Well, the reason that most of my batch will know me by my surname is that a) it is faster to pronounce, and b) there are more Abhisheks around than one would like. But this blog post is not about me, nor is it about my name/surname/nickname. This blog post is about the torture I underwent at the hands of the idiot named Karan Johar.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Not that I deliberately want to step on any toes here, but I honestly feel that some people should <i>not</i> do certain things; like I should not sing, certain professors should not teach, certain people should not be heads of state, and Karan Johar should simply stop making movies. Or at least stop resorting to cheap tactics in order to gain cheap publicity for his stupid movies that contain no substance whatsoever. The Thakre family tried to gain political mileage over what SRK said about Pakistani players being allowed in the IPL and what not, in return giving free footage to the biggest turdfest that was My Name is Khan.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And SRK implored his fans to buy tickets in an act of <i>defiance! </i>I implore my friends to stop going to the movie theaters to watch such stupid movies, at all! Kajol's acting was decent in the beginning, at least during the first half, I kinda liked her performance. SRK overdid everything from the beginning itself, as expected. The kid who played Kajol's kid was pretty good throughout, as was his firang "best friend" turned enemy.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The story, however lost all linkage with reality as soon as the second half started, and like a bad bad nightmare, just would not get over. It stretched and stretched and stretched until one begged for mercy... After two hours of being subjected to mindnumbingly stupid cinema fare, I was <i>begging</i> for the damn thing to get over, even as I could hear a bit of sniffling from some of my friends. The airconditioning in the cinema theater had given up too, and we had started perspiring by then. By the time SRK meets the US President, for some weird reason, one heaves a sigh of relief and tries to walk out of the movie hall, only to see everyone already on their feet aiming for exactly that same exit.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Now, I won't say that ALL of Indian cinema is bad, an Indian made 3 Idiots after all. I will just say that as mature cinema going audience, we really need to stop this bullshit called Karan Johar fare, if we value our intellect at all.</div><div><br /></div>Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-49540173157340828612010-02-09T00:20:00.000-08:002010-02-09T00:47:34.452-08:00Girlfriend = Grade hike?<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Well, to be honest, I've been reading SuperFreakonomics of late, and that has got me thinking about quite a bit of interesting stuff... As the title of this blog post indicates, I plan on tackling the issue of whether having a girlfriend/boyfriend results in a grade hike for students in different colleges, and across different cross sections of society.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The assumptions that I will be making over here are that the people in question here is matured enough to take their careers seriously and also that they are looking at a long(-ish?) term commitment towards their respective amours. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My theory regarding this comes from my experience the last time that I had a girlfriend, back in engineering college during the second year. Before I had a girlfriend, my grades were pretty decent, but that was because college had just begun and I was pretty serious about my studies. In the second term, I found someone special, and my grades just zoomed up like anything! It was a long distance relationship, and predictably enough, we broke up by the end of the 2nd year of college. I went into mourning, and my grades went through the floor, and probably emerged somewhere in Colorado. I didn't really check where they went for about a year, and then by my 4th year of college, I had gained some control of my life and managed to put up a decent show by the end of engineering college.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This said, my theory says that having a girlfriend gave me that focus in life, knowing that I was loved by a beautiful beautiful person and that I also loved her back. I guess this would be generalizing too much, but I think that as long as I did not have a girlfriend, I focussed on trying to find one, trying my luck out with different girls, spending time networking online, offline, through friends and so on. Post the breakup, I spent time moping around, getting philosophical, trying to figure out what went wrong, where I could have behaved differently, and doing everything except studying. Sure enough, my grades plummeted. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So my advice to budding lovebirds would be to get a girlfriend/boyfriend and stick with them for a long term, keep a bigger goal in your life so that if you just have your amours as your sole goal in your lives, your world will crumble around you, like mine did 5 years ago, but if you <i>really</i> want to do something with your lives, then a small hiccup in your love life shouldn't affect you as much. It should just inspire you to work harder towards your ultimate BIG goal, and then maybe find <i>another </i>somebody special along the way. </div>Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-47035683468230675102009-12-02T12:07:00.000-08:002009-12-02T12:33:09.096-08:00"Can I drop you off somewhere, Ms Kempster?" - Part 2So, about 6 months after my previous post on the <a href="http://abhisheksmusings.blogspot.com/2009/05/can-i-drop-you-off-somewhere-mrs.html">same topic</a>, I was riding my scooter down the same road in CH Area a week back when I saw a familiar figure walking down the sidewalk.<br />Aged, slightly hunched, more salt than pepper, she walked on braving the sun. But this time I wasn't in my car. I was on a 1987 model Bajaj Super scooter.<br /> And this time, I didn't stop by, to ask whether she'd like a ride home. I just rode on, didn't even slow down. I felt this guilt for not having visited her home to ask after her and her ailing sister. And then I felt some more guilt; this time for not having visited the grave of my nursery teacher, Mrs Palamkote. The graveyard is just a kilometer from the campus. She spent her life getting kids in shape, up to scratch, and well mannered. Come to think about it, she didn't just give us knowledge, she actually gave us an education. She taught us to eat with our mouths closed, to walk noiselessly, without dragging our feet, to always say "Thank You" and "Please", no matter who we spoke to. She made us little gentlemen.<br /> We've all gone our separate ways since then, each one of us. And even then, I can make out how different we, Mrs Palamkote's children (calling us her students would be an insult), are from the rest of the kids. Love truly can do wonders. Mrs Palamkote passed on a few years back. I couldn't bring myself to go to her funeral. And it pinches me every time I tell my friends that I'm at XLRI now, a few feet away from the place I started my education from. I cannot but bite my lip every time I tell my friends this, because I haven't had the guts to visit Mrs Palamkote's grave.<br /> I don't know what I'm afraid of more. Whether I will break down when I go to the cemetery, or whether I won't feel a thing. I really don't know. But I hope that I find the strength to stop my vehicle the next time for Mrs Kempster when I see her walking on the sidewalk, and that I actually am brave enough to cross the road and say hello to one of my school teachers, or to help someone who needs it. I think that's all I gotta say about that.Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-6479769485506715722009-08-21T07:41:00.000-07:002009-08-21T08:29:55.617-07:00The Joy of Giving Week<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Before I talk about the event I just came from, I'd like to share a small story that I heard ages ago.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So, there was this successful manager at a big company, Max, making bucketloads of cash, working in New York, driving a Lexus, renting an apartment in Manhattan, you know, the <i>works</i>. One Christmas, after shopping at Bloomingdales for his younger brother, he was on his way back home when he saw this kid trying to flag down a ride, apparently home. He stopped his car, asked the kid to get in. Joe was his name. He was twelve years of age. He lived in an apartment on the way to Max's home. So, how Max asked Joe about himself. Joe then told him that his mother was a widow, and that he had a younger brother, Jim. His mother worked as a seamstress and Joe helped out at his uncle's shop. So, on the whole, it wasn't really a very pretty picture. Joe asked Max what was in the big box in the back seat. He replied that it was a gift for his brother who was in college. <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Joe looked longingly at the box. Max ask him, "What are you thinking about, Joe?"<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"I wish," Joe said, "I wish I could <i>be</i> a brother like that."<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I remember hearing this story in school in an elocution contest. And I also remember tears streaming down all my friends' eyes as this piece ended. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Coming back to today, at the inaugural function of the <a href="http://www.joyofgivingweek.org/">Joy of Giving Week</a> when Anshu Gupta, the chief of the NGO 'Goonj', narrated to us accounts of people who lack the very things we take for granted; food, housing, and most importantly, clothes. He spoke of women who have to use rags, and sometimes even <i>sand </i>during their menses because they don't have even a clean piece of cloth to use as a sanitary napkin. He told us accounts of women in Rajasthan who don't have a uterus because they had to be operated upon because they'd get Cervical cancer otherwise. 'Scary' would be an understatement. Horrifying would be more like it. In a country which has one of the largest numbers of billionaires in the world, for people to live like this is simply unacceptable.<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So, the answer is to just <i>give. </i>Not just clothes, or shoes, or money, but even your time. Think for a moment about all you have. Count your blessings. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Be like Joe.<br /></div><div><br /></div>Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-21444459729836072372009-06-05T12:34:00.000-07:002009-06-05T12:38:32.397-07:00An arrow shot from a bow...Do you know what is common between an arrow shot from a bow and words spoken in anger? They don't come back, and they really really hurt.<br /> Always knew this, learned it the hard way a few minutes back.<br /> @You-know-who: My sincerest apologies.Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-61581890645703363272009-06-05T10:09:00.000-07:002009-06-05T11:54:14.857-07:00The Polythene BagSo there I was at my Baniya's shop (the Grocer's- for the uninitiated) this morning, getting groceries for home, when this guy came running into the shop, and asked for mustard oil. The shopkeeper handed it over, and then this customer says, "Ek polythene dena." (Give me a polythene bag).<br /> No moral grandstanding here, but I do make it a point to take a cloth bag with me each time I go shopping. Honest. So I positively <span style="font-style: italic;">hate</span> it when people ask for plastic bags at markets. They simply drive/walk up to the shop with their hands in their pockets and expect the shopkeepers to provide them with a plastic bag.<br /> Some time back when polythene bags weren't that much in use, retailers used to hand out stuff in paper bags and expected the customer to carry a cloth or jute bag with them. And now? Go anywhere, retailers are hell bent on handing you plastic bags with their logos printed on them. Advertising, they call it.<br /> At what cost do we buy this convenience? At the cost of drainage pipes jammed with plastic waste? Dead animals choked on plastic garbage? Overflowing landfills? Need I say more? And why do we take plastic bags, again? Because we're too lazy to bring our own cloth shopping bags with us? Or because it's just not <span style="font-weight: bold;">cool</span> anymore?<br /> Think about it.Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-4818909022301080342009-06-03T08:17:00.000-07:002009-06-03T10:31:40.550-07:00The cost of the Swine Flu<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.metro.co.uk/i/pix/galleries/swineflumasks/AY22360789_440x370.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 440px; height: 370px;" src="http://img.metro.co.uk/i/pix/galleries/swineflumasks/AY22360789_440x370.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /> The Bird Flu in 2005, and the Swine Flu (Uh... no pun intended) in 2009. From what I saw on television, the newspapers, the internet and various other media, millions and millions of dollars were spent on the entire exercise. People were going wild, buying masks, keeping indoors, looking suspiciously at anyone who sneezed or coughed. Folks were blogging about what to do, what not to do, how to identify the infected ones and so on and so forth.<br /> It's a great thing, no doubt, that we take care of things when they're in the initial stages. Compare it to the Black Death of 1348 or the London Plague of 1665 when there were literally millions of deaths and next to zero hygiene, and those ages were, well, Dark, things are much better now. Our healths are insured, drugs are being researched, governments <a href="http://www.thaindian.com/newsportal/health1/does-india-have-enough-drugs-to-beat-swine-flu_100185720.html">stock up</a> on medicines at even the slightest hint of anything that might go wrong.<br /> However, having read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Freakonomics-Revised-Expanded-Economist-Everything/dp/0061234001/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1244049549&sr=8-1">Freakonomics</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Undercover-Economist-Tim-Harford/dp/0345494016/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1244049593&sr=1-1">The Undercover Economist</a> over and over, I've developed this economist's mindset. Or rather, the cynic's mindset.<br />A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.<br />The same has been said about economists of late, but then it has also been proven that governments that do not listen to them are doomed to fail.<br />Anyway, all I wanted to say here (in what was intended to be a short post), is that the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2009_swine_flu_outbreak_by_country">actual number of deaths</a> that really occurred due to Swine Flu is much much less than the number of deaths that occur each day due to factors such as air pollution, heart disease, smoking, road accidents etc. How much money do we spend on controlling those factors?<br />As it turns out, the Swine Flu turned out to be not that different from ordinary influenza. So, who profited from all the millions that were spent by governments and individuals alike? And we, the people, spent our money for what?<br /> I haven't put in the statistics because I want you to Google them up and find out how many deaths happen because of smoking, alcohol abuse, narcotics abuse, heart disease, air pollution etc, and how much money is spent on preventing these more widespread pandemics.<br /> I read somewhere that <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.psandman.com/articles/zurich.pdf">risk = hazard + outrage</a>. Do follow up the link and get educated.<br />The Swine Flu and Bird Flu are important, and are to be doubtlessly tackled. But that is a very small part of the picture. The bigger picture is staring us in the face and yet we refuse to see it. Our eyes are open, but our minds are closed. <span style="font-style: italic;">They</span> want to keep it that way by diverting our thought processes to things that aren't really that important.<br /><br />Awaken.Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-91521066388430705992009-05-25T08:50:00.001-07:002009-05-25T09:51:06.323-07:00The Learning CurveOf late, Mom has started taking a keen interest in the Internet. Nothing too fancy, no facebook or digg or blogging. She just turns on the computer, connects to the Net, clicks here and there, and reads content.<br /> Press the Power button on the CPU, wait for Windows to load, click on the Broadband icon to connect, and click on Internet Explorer/Firefox and just get cracking! Sounds simple enough, doesn't it? And here comes the strange (to me) part... The above instructions are simply too difficult for Mom to understand!<br /> This often leads to some rather nasty altercations between her and me. Here are some excerpts:<br /><br />Me: "Oh come on! How difficult is it for you to understand? Just click on the box next to 'User Name' and start typing there..."<br /><br />Mom: "You raise your voice at me one more time and no lunch for you, young man!"<br /><br />After several days of such heated discussions(to euphemise that is; "screaming our lungs out" would be more applicable) I decided to take a step back and think about it. What seemed so damn simple to me was obviously very difficult for Mom. And the reason was painfully obvious. It wasn't that she didn't <span style="font-style: italic;">want</span> to learn, it's simply that she <span style="font-style: italic;">couldn't</span>. The learning process slows down after a certain age.<br /> However, this is not the end of the discussion. It is only the beginning. Our parents tell us so many things that simply don't make any sense to us; don't waste the food on your plate, don't wear torn jeans, don't forget to turn out the lights, and so on and so forth. We fail to understand the reason behind those statements... Because for the same reason as our parents are unable to pick up on new technologies, we cannot pick up on old wisdom.<br /> They tell us to not waste food because their parents often had trouble arranging for two square meals a day.<br /> They tell us to not wear torn jeans because, way back, in their childhood, our parents often had no option but to wear torn handed down trousers.<br /> They tell us to turn out the lights because they didn't have electricity.<br /><br />And naive as we are, we call our parents stubborn, miserly, inconsiderate, while they call us thoughtless, wasteful, and (as in my case) threaten to not make lunch!<br /> Now, I won't be all goody two shoes and say that I listen to what my parents tell me all the time because I'm not and I don't. What I will say, however, is that there always is a reason for the way people behave.<br /> And as the next generation that we belong to, we must never stop questioning, we must never stop trying to find the reasons to why things are the way they are. The Learning Curve must always be climbed. For the generations that are to follow will think the same of us as we think of the ones before us.<br /> Like they say in French, c'est la vie. Life goes on.Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-44287756137892814552009-05-20T21:36:00.000-07:002009-05-20T21:48:52.948-07:00MBASince I'm going to start with my MBA this June, I was pretty smug with my explanation of studying "cases studies" being how I see MBA adding value to my profile. However, the Dilbert comic strip below shattered my illusion.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AOf4CvlZs48/ShTc1bEPK_I/AAAAAAAAA04/vLjbLYeYdFo/s1600-h/Untitled-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 418px; height: 127px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AOf4CvlZs48/ShTc1bEPK_I/AAAAAAAAA04/vLjbLYeYdFo/s320/Untitled-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338134268697586674" border="0" /></a><br />Image (c) Scott AdamsAbhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-38895719150894923262009-05-12T02:08:00.000-07:002009-05-12T09:40:03.237-07:00"Can I drop you off somewhere, Ms Kempster?"Flashback to a minute before I said this. I was driving back home in the car with the aircon at full blast, listening to Jagjit Singh's Kagaz Ki Kashti, and thanking Dad and God at the same time for inspiring the creation of two of the best things to happen to mankind (and worst things to Mother Nature) Cars and Airconditioning, when I saw this frail figure standing at the side of a road, close to a traffic intersection trying to flag down an auto rickshaw.<br /> I was driving too fast to stop in time, so I didn't even slow down. I was deliberating whether that could really be Mrs Kempster from Kindergarten. She used to be feared back then, 20 years ago.<br /> Boy, even as I write this, I feel old. Have two decades really passed by since I joined Loyola School in '89?<br /> I'd love to say that I took the first exit, circled around, and came back to where I saw Ms Kempster. But I didn't. I think the world has made too much a cynic of me to really still believe that one must be chivalrous and helpful and all those nice things that one learns to be in school, the things that make the difference between being educated and being literate. Even if I had stopped on time, what would I have asked her? What if she lived somewhere off route from where I was headed? Then I'd have to go out of my way and drop her. What would I tell my mom if she asked what had taken me so long? What if...?<br /> "BALLS to everything.", I said to myself. I took the next free left, circled around and got back to where I had seen Ms Kempster about a minute ago. She wasn't there. I turned down the volume on the car stereo; Ghazals make me sadder than I already am. Decided that she had found an autorickshaw to take her to her destination.<br /> "Damn, I should've turned around then only." I mentally cursed myself for taking too much time to think, for worrying too much about what someone else would think about my decision, for ...<br /> "Hey wait a second, there she is!". I saw Ms Kempster walking down that road I had just driven along before taking the free left. I drive slowly when I've got too many things on my mind so I did a handbrake stop(no idea why!), rolled down the passenger side window and called out, "Can I drop you off somewhere, Ms Kempster?".<br /> She couldn't believe that someone had actually stopped by to help her, I could make out from her expression. She got into the car, and the conversation started on some random topics, which batch I was from, etc etc. About half a minute of driving later, she asked me to turn right, on C.H. Area Road No. 4. That was barely a 20 second detour from my route.<br /> "You remember the senior Ms Kempster?", she asked. "Of course!", I replied, half expecting to hear some sad news about her. She was pretty old even twenty years ago. "She has taken too many falls and is bedridden. I take care of her now.", said Ms Kempster. Twenty years have passed by since I last saw her. Wow.<br /> Then she asked me to stop the car in front of some rather swank apartments. "Those are some really nice apartments there!", I said rather naively and rather too soon. She smiled, "We don't live in the apartments, we live in those small rooms behind the apartments. We moved here about a month ago. You must have heard about Loyola Flats...". "Yeah, I heard they've renamed it Loyola Niwas and now the Fathers live there.", I said.<br /> And then it hit me. All at once. Like I'd been sitting on a nuclear bomb all along and then it had decided to suddenly explode. Loyola Flats are the apartments that are now known as Loyola Niwas. The old teachers from Loyola used to live there and that is where Ms Kempster and Ms Kempster lived. Until a month ago. Loyola Niwas now sports high ramparts, it's almost fortress-like now. And only the school Fathers live there. All the old timer teachers have been evicted from their decades old homes. Teachers who did not marry so as to carry on the profession that they so loved with the students they adored. Teachers who quite literally spent their lives teaching generation after generation of children. Can anyone from our generation even imagine spending our lives doing something? In our impatience for obtaining success in different forms and fields, we forget the things that matter most.<br /> Ms Kempster and I said our goodbyes and she left. I reached home taking at least thrice the time that I'd ordinarily take... It's difficult to drive with tears in one's eyes, you know.Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-26939242579525002892009-05-11T20:16:00.000-07:002009-05-11T20:30:41.392-07:00DisturbiaI was watching CNN over lunch a few days ago. Came across what looks like this:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.photostaud.com/img/fotogalerie/kenya-children-destination/kenya-children-004.3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 457px; height: 680px;" src="http://www.photostaud.com/img/fotogalerie/kenya-children-destination/kenya-children-004.3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> Strange wicked world we live in, ladies and gentlemen. The kids above look clearly very very poor. Going by the state of their skinny arms and legs, they probably have difficulty having even one square meal a day. And yet, they have guns in their hands instead of a notebook and pencil. I couldn't find a more exact picture on Google Images to put up here. What I saw that day on CNN made me lose my appetite for a week. People, thin as sticks, bones sticking out of their torsos with no shoes and barely any clothes covering them, who obviously hadn't seen prosperity in a long long time had guns in their hands. And not just any ordinary country made gun; they had <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/AK-47">Kalashnikovs</a>! What hopelessness, what absolute collapse of a system could reduce matters to this state?<br /> In the news, we hear of school shootouts all over the developed world. Here, there are no schools, just shootouts. I worry a bit too much, folks say. I say, isn't it time you guys started too?<br /><br />Image courtesy: Google ImagesAbhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-62235301508675944142009-05-11T03:42:00.000-07:002009-05-11T03:55:52.575-07:00And it rained!Here's some information I found on <a href="http://wiki.answers.com/Q/How_do_hail_storms_occur_in_tropical_zones">how</a> hailstorms occur.<br />And here's a nice picture of the aftermath of one.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f6/Queensland_HailStorm_260305.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 2304px; height: 1728px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f6/Queensland_HailStorm_260305.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a>In case folks are wondering why I'm writing about such a different topic than what I normally blog about, it rained today. And there was hail. And it was FRIGGIN' COLD!Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-81739003542608785592009-05-03T06:29:00.000-07:002009-05-05T02:20:12.492-07:00"I'm a human being. God Dammit, my life has value."The movie <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Network_%28film%29">Network</a> was on this evening on television.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://blogs.ublabs.org/probablynotthissimple/files/2009/03/mad-as-hell.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 489px; height: 364px;" src="http://blogs.ublabs.org/probablynotthissimple/files/2009/03/mad-as-hell.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />There was a particular monologue in the movie that I LOVED. It is as follows:<br /><br /><b style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Howard:</b><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"> I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. It's a depression.<br /> Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel's worth. Banks are going bust. Shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter. Punks are running wild in the street and there's no one anywhere that seems to know what to do with us. <br /> Now into it. We know the air is unfit to breathe, our food is unfit to eat, and we sit watching our TVs while some local newscaster tells us that today we had 15 homicides and 63 violent crimes as if that's the way it's supposed to be.<br /> We know things are bad. Worse than bad. They're crazy. It's like everything everywhere is going crazy so we don't go out anymore. We sit in a house as slowly the world we're living in is getting smaller and all we say is, "Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster, and TV, and my steel belted radials and I won't say anything." Well I'm not going to leave you alone. I want you to get <span style="font-style: italic;">mad</span>. I don't want you to protest. I don't want you to riot. I don't want you to write to your congressman because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. <br /> I don't know what to do about the depression and the inflation and the Russians and the crying in the streets. All I know is first you've got to get mad. You've got to say, "I'm a human being. God Dammit, my life has value." So, I want you to get up now. I want all of you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window, open it, and stick your head out, and yell, "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!" I want you to get up right now. Get up. Go to your windows, open your windows, and stick your head out, and yell, "I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!"<br /> Things have got to change my friends. You've got to get mad. You've got to say, "I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!" Then we'll figure out what to do about the depression and the inflation and the oil crisis. But first get up out of your chairs, open your window, stick your head out and yell, "I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!"</span><br /><br /> The creepiest aspect of Network is that it was made in 1976 by the legendary <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paddy_Chayefsky">Paddy Chayefsky</a> and yet the lines hold true even today. Each and every one of them.Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-44259398179721166292009-05-01T21:01:00.000-07:002009-05-01T21:47:25.886-07:00What are they trying to sell us?Turn on the television any time of the day and one thing you cannot escape watching is(no, not the Saas Bahu crap) advertisements. Notice more closely and like me, you'll wonder exactly what are they trying to sell us? Toothpaste ads sell us the idea that a "fresh" breath will attract chicks/dudes as the case/preference might be! Car ads encourage us to keep up with the Joneses, Election ads sell us the idea that a certain candidate is "stronger" than the incumbent, cell phone ads sell us the concept of "identity" (I wonder how many of us would be unique once we'd have bought that specific brand of cell phone), fairness cream ads sell us the idea of "beautiful" skin (What backward society do we live in, that the skin color rather than a person's personality matters more?), bottled water ads sell us the notion that bottled water is safer than tap water (even as scientists the world over have reached a consensus that bottled water is in fact <span style="font-style: italic;">carcinogenic</span>).<br /> Having said all that, I hope you see what I'm trying to put across here. What these advertisements are selling us, is not products or services. It is <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">fear</span>. Pure, unadulterated fear. The fear of being a social outcaste for having bad breath (and thus selling a <a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&ct=res&cd=1&url=http%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FListerine&ei=3Mz7SYugCqfo6gOL5Y2dAg&rct=j&q=listerine+freakonomics&usg=AFQjCNFsLTZKlxdcbnvOhZ_Vbzrtl7WBDA&sig2=Rix_ZO7WJRSULI7y1OmRQg">surgical antiseptic as a breath freshener</a>), the fear of losing a job because of dark skin, the fear of falling ill because of using a random brand of soap, the fear of losing teeth to cavities for not using a specific brand of toothpaste and so on.<br /> Bottom line is this: the air we breathe is polluted, the water we drink is tainted with chemicals, and the food that we eat is impure with all the pesticides in it. We are a much vulnerable species with all the things that we do to ourselves. We drink Coke/Pepsi instead of water when we're thirsty, we eat potato chips instead of proper meals when we're hungry, and we go to oxygen spas instead of heading out to the mountains when we need fresh air. They say that the average lifespan the world over has increased. But at what cost? We live faster and more impatient lives, <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">we</span> glorify that fact. Or do we? Are we placing our short term goals on a higher priority than our long term objectives? Are we missing the forest for the trees?<br /> I don't know. But I don't like what I see.Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-16884505948631960792009-05-01T20:35:00.000-07:002009-05-12T21:17:44.514-07:00Buying a laptopI'm currently on the lookout for a laptop to serve my needs at my B-School. Oh, haven't I written about this? The B-School part I mean... I got into XLRI, Jamshedpur. That's that. Moving on, so here I am, researching online for laptops. I start with a base configuration of about 2 Gigs of RAM, and a decent processor, say of 2 GHz, and a 160 GB HDD, and that's it. However, after a few sessions of browsing the <a href="http://www.dell.co.in/">Dell </a>website(which is EXCELLENT, by the way) I hiked up my requirements to a 320GB HDD, a colored body, a backlit keyboard, 3 GB of RAM, and a 2.4 GHz processor, not to forget a 512MB Graphics card.<br /> So the question here is: do I really need all this stuff? And the answer would be a healthy mix of both: yes, and no. yes, because I wouldn't want my laptop to seem inadequate if I decided to play some new game on it, or run a heavy application. And no, because I'd only just be "keeping up with the Joneses".<br /><br />p.s. I've narrowed down to the Studio 15 Laptop with the following configuration:<br /><br /><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"><tbody><tr><td width="50%"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#0068c9;"><b>Product</b></span> </td> <td align="right" width="15%"><br /></td> <td><br /></td> <td align="center" width="15%"> <span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#0068c9;"><b>Quantity</b></span> </td> <td align="right" width="20%"><br /></td> <td><br /></td> </tr> </tbody></table> <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"> <tbody><tr> <td colspan="3" bgcolor="#e7e7e7" height="2"><br /></td> </tr> <tr> <td width="50%" height="10"><br /></td> </tr> </tbody></table> <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"> <tbody><tr> <td colspan="4"><img src="http://www.dell.com/images/global/general/spacer.gif" border="0" width="1" height="1" /></td> </tr> <tr> <td valign="top" width="50%" height="30"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"><b>Dell Studio 15 Laptop (S540506IN8)</b><br />Base System, Genuine Windows Vista(R) Home Premium SP1 64 bit (English)</span> </td> <td align="right" valign="top" width="15%" height="30"><br /></td> <td align="center" valign="top" width="15%" height="30"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"><b>1</b></span> </td> <td align="right" valign="top" width="20%" height="30"><br /></td> </tr> </tbody></table> <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"> <tbody><tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Base System</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Base System</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [210-27712]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Processor Options</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Intel® Core™ 2 Duo Processor P8600 (2.40GHz/ 1066 FSB/ 3MB Cache)</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [213-10508]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Memory</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>3GB (1X1GB + 1X2GB) DDR2 SDRAM</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [370-14408]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Keyboard</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Dell(TM) Keyboard with Touchpad (English)</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [340-16225]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [583-12502]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Video Card</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>512MB ATI Mobility Radeon HD 4570</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [450-12551]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [490-10980]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Hard Drive</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>320GB SATA Hard Drive</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [400-16220]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Operating System</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Genuine Windows Vista(R) Home Premium SP1 64 bit (English)</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [616-10117]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [616-10177]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [619-14799]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [619-15380]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [620-11129]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [640-11156]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [640-11162]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Optical Drive</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Slot Load 8X DVD+/-RW Drive with DVD+R double layer write capability</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [429-13408]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [430-10224]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [640-11003]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Audio Solution</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Integrated Stereo Sound with Subwoofer</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [219-10069]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Software</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Microsoft(R) Works 9.0 (English)</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [630-12305]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Warranty & Service</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>1 Yr Ltd Hardware Warranty, InHome Service after Remote Diagnosis</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [205-11377]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [205-11469]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [205-11470]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [205-11516]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [205-11517]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Palmrest Option</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Silver Palmrest</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [214-10081]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Wireless Network Card</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Intel(R) WiFi Link 5100 (802.11a/g/n) Half Mini-card</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [555-11886]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Bluetooth Module</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Dell(TM) Wireless 370 Bluetooth Module</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [555-11729]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Dell Service: Remark</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Dell's Terms and Conditions apply</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Laptop Batteries Carry One Year Warranty Only From Invoice Date</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [205-11378]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [205-11424]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Batteries</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>6-cell Lithium Ion Primary Battery</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [451-10783]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Carrying Cases</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>No Case</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [460-10921]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Item Included in the System</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Integrated Fast Ethernet 10/100/1000</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>34mm ExpressCard Slot, (DOES NOT SUPPORT PC CARDS)</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>ICC Regulatory Label</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Shipment Mod</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>India Country Info Mod</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>System Driver DVD Kit</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>System Driver Mod</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Dell(TM) PC-Restore Included</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Dell(TM) Chat</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Discount is only valid if the corresponding upgraded item is selected above.</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Limited time promotional offer only. No further discounts apply.</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Windows Live Software</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Noise Isolation Ear Buds</b><br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Power Cord</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [219-10125]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [219-10065]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [340-16223]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [340-16224]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [799-11576]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [613-10695]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [613-10618]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [640-11181]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [640-11179]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [219-10075]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [219-10076]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [630-12219]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [624-10050]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [450-12557]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Security Software</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>McAfee(R) Security Center(TM) 30 days trial</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [650-12030]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Color Options</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Jet Black Colour with Black U-Trim</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [320-10394]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Label Options</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Intel(R) Centrino(R) 2 Label</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [340-16714]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Display</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>15.6” 720p WLED (1366x768) Display with TrueLife™ and Built-in 2.0MP Web Cam</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [230-10741]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [319-10079]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [640-11007]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [640-11008]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [640-11009]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [640-11374]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Freight Charges</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Studio-NB Handling & Insurance Charges /Express Premium</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#dfecfa;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [990-15161]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [990-15162]<br /></span> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [990-15621]<br /></span> </td> </tr> <tr> <td bg width="20%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;">Delivery Charges</span> </td> <td bg width="45%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"><b>Inspiron(TM) Delivery Charges (India)</b><br /></span> </td> <td align="right" bg width="15%" style="color:#ffffff;"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"> [990-10898]<br /></span> </td> </tr> </tbody></table><br /> <span style="font-family:arial, helvetica;font-size:85%;"> <table> <tbody><tr> <td align="right" width="400"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"><b>Sub Total(s):</b></span> </td> <td align="right" width="85"> <span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"><b>Rs.50,649.16</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span>Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-44263843152575602282009-04-28T23:00:00.000-07:002009-04-29T07:34:15.581-07:00BansThe Indian government is going to <a href="http://www.boingboing.net/2006/07/17/report-indian-gov-bl.html">ban</a> blogspot.com for "Security Reasons". Those being that terrorists use blogspot to communicate with each other.<br />Taking this a step forward, I believe the government is also going to ban:<br /><ul><li>emails</li><li>fixed line phones (Landlines)</li><li>cell phone services</li><li>courier services</li><li>The Indian Postal Service</li><li>messenger services (Gtalk, Y! Messenger, AIM, MSN Messenger etc.)</li></ul>because all the above items are communication media.<br /><br />Taking this another step further, the next items that will soon be banned are:<br /><br /><ul><li>cars</li><li>buses</li><li>flights</li><li>air</li><li>water</li><li>food</li><li>petrol</li><li>currency notes</li><li>slippers/shoes</li><li>clothes</li><li>toothbrushes, knives, and other items of daily use,</li></ul>because the terrorists have used, use, and will use these products.<br /> Friends, now is the time. Please suggest the above list to your legislator and make sure you play your part well in this joke we call a democracy.<br /><br />p.s. The above post is based on an article that was a hoax. However, just <span style="font-style: italic;">imagine</span> a scenario like that.Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-3302748350079439692009-04-27T09:20:00.000-07:002009-04-27T09:34:04.729-07:00Hero Honda Passion Pro!Was channel surfing a couple of days back after a long time when I came across this ad for Hero Honda Passion Pro. With a history of idiotic ads Hero Honda has been showing for the past few years, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W96unHLEo0k">this</a>, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZmQwu-aKgQ">this</a>, and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MrwFnMMO9U">this</a> for example, it was a pleasure to see an ad that finally appealed. Nothing overdone, the protagonist does not speak a word, all he does is to turn off his bike at a traffic intersection, take off his helmet, get off the bike, remove a speck of dust from the body, coolly sit back down, start the engine 2 seconds before the light turns green and zoom off all the while ignoring the derision that the villains in the jeep behind him keep jabbing him with. <div> With this simple ad, and not a single word, so many things were said. </div><div>Our protagonist:</div><div><ul><li>Cares for the environment(by turning off the engine), </li><li>Cares for himself(by taking off his helmet), </li><li>Cares for his bike(by flicking off the dust) </li><li>And hardly gives a damn for all the derision poked at him by the villains.</li></ul><div>I wonder who made this advert. Hats off to them. They should do more HH ads. </div><div><br /></div><div>p.s. I couldn't find the ad on youtube so there's no link up there. Do let me know if someone has a clue where I can find it. :)</div></div>Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9140405630015326333.post-71398244830218220902009-04-23T21:09:00.000-07:002009-04-24T01:23:13.771-07:00Jai Ho?Woke up late today, still groggy, turned on VH1. The Pussycat Dolls version of '<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_7AyQpsukM">Jai Ho</a>' was playing... Considering that it is A.R. Rahman's composition and the Dolls obviously cashed in on the opportunity and that their only contribution was some meaningless lyrics and a few awkward dance moves with some equally pathetic makeup, it was worth noting that Rahman had barely any visibility in the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_7AyQpsukM">video</a>. A few seconds at the most. Hopeless. Why does Rahman do this to himself?Abhishek Joshihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01849594965376439650noreply@blogger.com3