Having been bitten by the blog-bug off and on, I must admit lethargy gets the better of me more often than not. Hence, I should be thanking those underworked and overfed muscles of mine that have got me typing this in the first place.
Considering when the last post was made here, and where I'm today the only thing I can think is "you've come a long way, baby." That got me thinking that the person who said that the only constant in life is change wasn't kidding.
It's been a challenging 2009 for me, with a plethora of change and all its accompanying challenges. But almost a month into '10, and I think I've done quite well, thank you very much. Pitfalls and disillusionment aside, things are certainly looking up.
On that note, I think I'll hit the 'Publish' button now... happy new year everybody!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Friday, September 19, 2008
The Meaning of Loss...
Can you remember that day? The moment when you lost your first game, or the first test you failed. The day that precious pencil-box of yours' was broken by the class bully, or the day you tripped, fell and hurt yourself. Close your eyes for a moment and remember those days. They weren't pleasant. You cried yourself to sleep, or simply cried because it pained so much. When life gives you something you don't want, it's difficult to accept it. Almost as if someone gave you a dress that didn't fit. Perhaps that's how I like to describe loss. Fate's way of thrusting something on me, even if I don't like it.
What my view suggests though, is contrary to public perception of the term. It is perceived that loss is merely giving away something that you hold dear. That could be a pencil-box, a victory in play, or somebody you knew. They're probably right. But in reality, there's always a trade-off. The difference is that what you get in exchange is not something you want. Hence, you refuse to see it.
Over time, life hardens us to the point that loss is accepted as (in)significantly as your morning newspaper. In loss, people tell you to be strong. What they don't realise is that feeling loss is equally crucial. It's good to be strong, for you'll be the pillar to support those who aren't. But let not yourself live under the cloud of this shallow show of strength. For when you refuse to feel pain, you shun a part of your existence. You just aren't complete. And what use is he, who isn't whole.
So there you have it, your return in exchange for what you've lost. The ability to feel pain. Yes, you don't want it, but it'll help you grow.
" He who does not weep, does not see"
- Les Miserables
What my view suggests though, is contrary to public perception of the term. It is perceived that loss is merely giving away something that you hold dear. That could be a pencil-box, a victory in play, or somebody you knew. They're probably right. But in reality, there's always a trade-off. The difference is that what you get in exchange is not something you want. Hence, you refuse to see it.
Over time, life hardens us to the point that loss is accepted as (in)significantly as your morning newspaper. In loss, people tell you to be strong. What they don't realise is that feeling loss is equally crucial. It's good to be strong, for you'll be the pillar to support those who aren't. But let not yourself live under the cloud of this shallow show of strength. For when you refuse to feel pain, you shun a part of your existence. You just aren't complete. And what use is he, who isn't whole.
So there you have it, your return in exchange for what you've lost. The ability to feel pain. Yes, you don't want it, but it'll help you grow.
" He who does not weep, does not see"
- Les Miserables
Saturday, August 16, 2008
PYRO’S DIN… of smokin’ tyres, raging bots…the classic 90’s
C:\> cd c&d
Very simply put, the above-mentioned DOS command was the beginning of my tryst with gaming. The game was “Car & Driver”, a racing game from Looking Glass studios and published by EA. The system was a ‘revolutionary’ Pentium II based PC, belonging to a friend. You see, I didn’t have a PC at the time, way back in 1995-96. Every weekend, I sunk my teeth into this game, amazed by the cars I saw, the tracks they plied on, and I still remember the fun I had racing the Ferrari F40. Consider that my prior gaming experience included Dangerous Dave, Paratrooper, Jump-jet and a certain Prince of Persia. All nice, especially POP(how couldn’t it be) and hurriedly played during breaks in school. But C&D was a different thing altogether. I was absorbed by the game, mystified by the art of racing, and gaming was never the same again. That this game redefined the way I looked at computer gaming; would be a gross understatement.
Yes, the roots of my interest in gaming were clearly in the PC, and it has remained that way for a very, very long time. Following months of C&D, one fine day, my friend called me saying, “You have to come and see this new game I’ve just got, it’s too good.”
What could I do? Within minutes I was in front of his comp, about to be absorbed by something more amazing still. And what did he show me? It was “One Must Fall: 2097” developed by Diversions Entertainment, and published by Epic Megagames. No prizes for guessing where Epic has reached today. The world’s legions of Unreal Tournament and Gears of War fans will vouch for that.
If C&D was my first crush, without a doubt, OMF was my first love. Never has a game held my attention, or triggered my imagination in the way OMF did. The magnificently designed robots battling with each other in fantastically interactive arenas were breathtaking to behold. I vividly remember my first encounter with the mysterious Raven in his Pyros robot, in the final of the North American open, with me in a red Jaguar. He moved like the wind, with his flame throwers torching me at will. I was blown to bits in a minute, utterly defeated, but never happier. That was my first real gaming challenge. What we in today’s terminology refer to as “Boss Battles”. Till date, OMF remains among my favourite games, and I’d love to fight it out with friends or AI, even now, minutes before my eyes shut, my brains begging me to sleep. That’s how compelling this game is.
Yes, my friend’s PC was the great white box of happiness. But on my 11th birthday, I received a box of happiness of my own. It was a “Media Little Master” video game console, complete with a 64-in-1 game cartridge. I got my first taste of Mario and Luigi, Road Fighter, Mahajong and a host of other games. Childhood, with quirky traits of its own, combined with my now-unsatiable appetite for games, led to me buying more such game cartridges. What followed was a plethora of games that we today refer to as classics, such as Double Dragon, Contra and of course, Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat. I remember how once an entire birthday party of mine was centred around a Street Fighter Tournament, all my friends battling it out to face me, the birthday boy, granted special right to contest the final, by virtue of hosting the event. It was grand, 16 little guys, barely taller than the dining table, all hooked to the TV set, buttons mashing, mouths wide open. It was the stuff of childhood nirvana.
Now, more than two decades into my existence, this small account directs me to recollect all those days, that moulded my interests and fascinations. It forces me to admire just how far time has taken us, not only in the ubiquitous aspects of health, wealth and knowledge, but in the far more subtle, but no-less inspirational and formative hobbies that added different facets to our personalities.
From where I’m seated right now, on either side of me lie the length and breadth of my decade of games. On one side, I find my trusty “Little Master”, gathering dust and lying unused for years (twinge of guilt, notwithstanding) and on my other side I see my spanking PlayStation 3. Ironically, I can’t help suppressing a smile, as I hark back to an old cliché, courtesy Fatboy Slim. You’ve come a long way baby…
Very simply put, the above-mentioned DOS command was the beginning of my tryst with gaming. The game was “Car & Driver”, a racing game from Looking Glass studios and published by EA. The system was a ‘revolutionary’ Pentium II based PC, belonging to a friend. You see, I didn’t have a PC at the time, way back in 1995-96. Every weekend, I sunk my teeth into this game, amazed by the cars I saw, the tracks they plied on, and I still remember the fun I had racing the Ferrari F40. Consider that my prior gaming experience included Dangerous Dave, Paratrooper, Jump-jet and a certain Prince of Persia. All nice, especially POP(how couldn’t it be) and hurriedly played during breaks in school. But C&D was a different thing altogether. I was absorbed by the game, mystified by the art of racing, and gaming was never the same again. That this game redefined the way I looked at computer gaming; would be a gross understatement.
Yes, the roots of my interest in gaming were clearly in the PC, and it has remained that way for a very, very long time. Following months of C&D, one fine day, my friend called me saying, “You have to come and see this new game I’ve just got, it’s too good.”
What could I do? Within minutes I was in front of his comp, about to be absorbed by something more amazing still. And what did he show me? It was “One Must Fall: 2097” developed by Diversions Entertainment, and published by Epic Megagames. No prizes for guessing where Epic has reached today. The world’s legions of Unreal Tournament and Gears of War fans will vouch for that.
If C&D was my first crush, without a doubt, OMF was my first love. Never has a game held my attention, or triggered my imagination in the way OMF did. The magnificently designed robots battling with each other in fantastically interactive arenas were breathtaking to behold. I vividly remember my first encounter with the mysterious Raven in his Pyros robot, in the final of the North American open, with me in a red Jaguar. He moved like the wind, with his flame throwers torching me at will. I was blown to bits in a minute, utterly defeated, but never happier. That was my first real gaming challenge. What we in today’s terminology refer to as “Boss Battles”. Till date, OMF remains among my favourite games, and I’d love to fight it out with friends or AI, even now, minutes before my eyes shut, my brains begging me to sleep. That’s how compelling this game is.
Yes, my friend’s PC was the great white box of happiness. But on my 11th birthday, I received a box of happiness of my own. It was a “Media Little Master” video game console, complete with a 64-in-1 game cartridge. I got my first taste of Mario and Luigi, Road Fighter, Mahajong and a host of other games. Childhood, with quirky traits of its own, combined with my now-unsatiable appetite for games, led to me buying more such game cartridges. What followed was a plethora of games that we today refer to as classics, such as Double Dragon, Contra and of course, Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat. I remember how once an entire birthday party of mine was centred around a Street Fighter Tournament, all my friends battling it out to face me, the birthday boy, granted special right to contest the final, by virtue of hosting the event. It was grand, 16 little guys, barely taller than the dining table, all hooked to the TV set, buttons mashing, mouths wide open. It was the stuff of childhood nirvana.
Now, more than two decades into my existence, this small account directs me to recollect all those days, that moulded my interests and fascinations. It forces me to admire just how far time has taken us, not only in the ubiquitous aspects of health, wealth and knowledge, but in the far more subtle, but no-less inspirational and formative hobbies that added different facets to our personalities.
From where I’m seated right now, on either side of me lie the length and breadth of my decade of games. On one side, I find my trusty “Little Master”, gathering dust and lying unused for years (twinge of guilt, notwithstanding) and on my other side I see my spanking PlayStation 3. Ironically, I can’t help suppressing a smile, as I hark back to an old cliché, courtesy Fatboy Slim. You’ve come a long way baby…
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
CCD??...Girls and Timbuktu
On the eve of my 'graduation'(the quotes must tell you something), I decided to hang out with the two best chums in my life, Nagi and Hari. With two weeks to go before the exams, and an irrepressible feeling of being 'bogged down' , I felt the need to get my butt out of the house and do get some air.
Hari was back from the US, almost through with his Engineering. Thanks to a variety of internals, presentations and what-have-you, I was unable to make time to meet the guy at leisure. But grad-eve was too good an opportunity to miss. Hari was driving( the guy missed it too much, what with being abroad for the better part of the last 4 years). I had no reason to complain. The break from the driver's seat was more than welcome. We picked up Nagi and headed off to CCD at Nehru Circle. The choice of venue boiled down to exposing our dear back- from- vilayat pal to the Indian youth's heartbeat, considering he didn't know what Coffee Day is in the first place.
Coffee (no matter how you take it) work wonders for the head, and watching the world whizz by at the same time, makes for interesting, insightful thinking. Cold Sparkle is a delicious concoction, and one that i love sampling no end.
OF THE 'OTHER' PEOPLE
So that evening over our cups of coffee (except Hari, he was having Masala Chai), we guys got talking. About girls. Unlike some, who discuss this when their heads are full of smoke and pot, I prefer doing it when saner.
Hari gave me an interesting detail. He said that the firangi chicks are a breeze to date. As long as they're not hitched already of course. (mind you, Hari is probably the most decent guy on the planet, this is all from his observation)
What struck me as curious, was when he said that the Indian-American girls get a raw deal when they land up in university. Apparently, they get classified as 'Indians', in the same mould as Selvarajan from Trichy, and Parmeet from Patiala. Man, I could already imagine the heartbreak for those folks. Spending the better part of your 18 years singing 'God bless America' and now THIS??
Point is, my dear pal says that they find this change in attitude very hard to accept, and as a result, quickly find solace and comfort in the arms of the our desi boys. So dating them is a snitch. Wow, there's something I didn't know. The ABCD phenomenon is indeed real.
Now if you're the stereotypical Indian guy, I bet you'd love to be one of those desi dudes. Back home though, its not quite that easy. Unless you're this really fabulous chap who's got oodles of charm. My friends consider me to be one among the few we all know with any real 'experience' in this matter. This is partly true. Back in my obsessive heydays, I was extremely excited about the prospect of dating.
Somehow, things came about and I'd found a great girl to share my best days with. She remains the first and only girl I've dated seriously, and she's given me great memories, but obviously they're now a thing of the past. But it was great while it lasted.
In retrospect, I now explain to my awestruck friends, how its all not such a big deal. Sometimes people make too much of it and mar the sheer simplicity of the whole thing. I was guilty of this line of thinking too, but now I know about truly giving a part of your self to another person. I think when I realised it, I knew it was time to move on.
In the while since I've gone single again, I've found a new love. And its called 'Playstation 3'.
WHERE THE HECK ARE WE ?!
After we were done at CCD ( realizing it'd be a travesty to spend all evening there), we headed out. What started out as a ride back home soon turned into a wild goosechase around town. Naturally, yours truly is to blame, for suggesting we check out a streetthat I hadn't frequented often. We figured we had time to kill, and a small detour would do no harm.
the place was merely a road lined with snack bars and coffee shops. I was hoping to find something more interesting. Seeing that we already had coffee, and it was way too early to hog, we decided to continue on the road and see if we come across anything better. This onward journey eventually led us to one of the peripheral ring roads around town, and so we ended up 'quite' far from where we were meant to be. All was still well, as I knew exactly where we were. Soon, I found the exit road that'd lead us back, and I told Hari to take the turn.
What I hadn't anticipated was that the road would be blocked barely a quarter of a mile ahead. A shabby 'Detour' was all that we could see, and we took it. Being the typical conformists that the three of us are, this slight deviation from our known geographical traverse had us searching for signs and directions.
Inevitably, we had to stop and ask for directions. Now, if you've done this fairly often, you'll know how hilarious this exercise can be. One guy said, " You boys just take a right at the end of the road, and go straight from there." Fine. We headed along the said route, and what do we find? We're right next to the flyover construction that's forced us to take the freakin' detour in the first place. There's no road to speak of, only mud and stones. We tried, but there was no way the Wagon R was getting us through that terrain. Doubt if even a Pajero would.
So we went back and took a different turn and found some narrow gullies here and there. Yeah, you figured it right. We were totally lost. Mercifully, an auto driver we found got us on the right track and we finally found our way back. In the process, we got stuck at a railtrack crossing on a horribly narrow road, with buses dying to throw us off the tarmac (or whatever's left of it).
Needless to say, Hari was having his driving practice then and there. Making up for all the lost time in a single night, it seemed. It was almost like spotting God, when we finally came back to Mathikere Main road.
We all got back home. And my mum asked , "How was your evening?" I couldn't help but smile...
Hari was back from the US, almost through with his Engineering. Thanks to a variety of internals, presentations and what-have-you, I was unable to make time to meet the guy at leisure. But grad-eve was too good an opportunity to miss. Hari was driving( the guy missed it too much, what with being abroad for the better part of the last 4 years). I had no reason to complain. The break from the driver's seat was more than welcome. We picked up Nagi and headed off to CCD at Nehru Circle. The choice of venue boiled down to exposing our dear back- from- vilayat pal to the Indian youth's heartbeat, considering he didn't know what Coffee Day is in the first place.
Coffee (no matter how you take it) work wonders for the head, and watching the world whizz by at the same time, makes for interesting, insightful thinking. Cold Sparkle is a delicious concoction, and one that i love sampling no end.
OF THE 'OTHER' PEOPLE
So that evening over our cups of coffee (except Hari, he was having Masala Chai), we guys got talking. About girls. Unlike some, who discuss this when their heads are full of smoke and pot, I prefer doing it when saner.
Hari gave me an interesting detail. He said that the firangi chicks are a breeze to date. As long as they're not hitched already of course. (mind you, Hari is probably the most decent guy on the planet, this is all from his observation)
What struck me as curious, was when he said that the Indian-American girls get a raw deal when they land up in university. Apparently, they get classified as 'Indians', in the same mould as Selvarajan from Trichy, and Parmeet from Patiala. Man, I could already imagine the heartbreak for those folks. Spending the better part of your 18 years singing 'God bless America' and now THIS??
Point is, my dear pal says that they find this change in attitude very hard to accept, and as a result, quickly find solace and comfort in the arms of the our desi boys. So dating them is a snitch. Wow, there's something I didn't know. The ABCD phenomenon is indeed real.
Now if you're the stereotypical Indian guy, I bet you'd love to be one of those desi dudes. Back home though, its not quite that easy. Unless you're this really fabulous chap who's got oodles of charm. My friends consider me to be one among the few we all know with any real 'experience' in this matter. This is partly true. Back in my obsessive heydays, I was extremely excited about the prospect of dating.
Somehow, things came about and I'd found a great girl to share my best days with. She remains the first and only girl I've dated seriously, and she's given me great memories, but obviously they're now a thing of the past. But it was great while it lasted.
In retrospect, I now explain to my awestruck friends, how its all not such a big deal. Sometimes people make too much of it and mar the sheer simplicity of the whole thing. I was guilty of this line of thinking too, but now I know about truly giving a part of your self to another person. I think when I realised it, I knew it was time to move on.
In the while since I've gone single again, I've found a new love. And its called 'Playstation 3'.
WHERE THE HECK ARE WE ?!
After we were done at CCD ( realizing it'd be a travesty to spend all evening there), we headed out. What started out as a ride back home soon turned into a wild goosechase around town. Naturally, yours truly is to blame, for suggesting we check out a streetthat I hadn't frequented often. We figured we had time to kill, and a small detour would do no harm.
the place was merely a road lined with snack bars and coffee shops. I was hoping to find something more interesting. Seeing that we already had coffee, and it was way too early to hog, we decided to continue on the road and see if we come across anything better. This onward journey eventually led us to one of the peripheral ring roads around town, and so we ended up 'quite' far from where we were meant to be. All was still well, as I knew exactly where we were. Soon, I found the exit road that'd lead us back, and I told Hari to take the turn.
What I hadn't anticipated was that the road would be blocked barely a quarter of a mile ahead. A shabby 'Detour' was all that we could see, and we took it. Being the typical conformists that the three of us are, this slight deviation from our known geographical traverse had us searching for signs and directions.
Inevitably, we had to stop and ask for directions. Now, if you've done this fairly often, you'll know how hilarious this exercise can be. One guy said, " You boys just take a right at the end of the road, and go straight from there." Fine. We headed along the said route, and what do we find? We're right next to the flyover construction that's forced us to take the freakin' detour in the first place. There's no road to speak of, only mud and stones. We tried, but there was no way the Wagon R was getting us through that terrain. Doubt if even a Pajero would.
So we went back and took a different turn and found some narrow gullies here and there. Yeah, you figured it right. We were totally lost. Mercifully, an auto driver we found got us on the right track and we finally found our way back. In the process, we got stuck at a railtrack crossing on a horribly narrow road, with buses dying to throw us off the tarmac (or whatever's left of it).
Needless to say, Hari was having his driving practice then and there. Making up for all the lost time in a single night, it seemed. It was almost like spotting God, when we finally came back to Mathikere Main road.
We all got back home. And my mum asked , "How was your evening?" I couldn't help but smile...
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Taking the high road
Often, I find myself debating the need for confrontation. True, not everyone can arrive at a consensus on any given issue, but the line between healthy exchange of differing views and out-and-out battle of ideology is so thin, you wouldn't know you passed it till someone knocked you silly(or threw some choicy expletives).
When talking to strangers, morality is masked beneath layers of fluff. But when its your friends that you're talking to, the no-holds-barred, in-your-face apporach is generally better. However, its is here that the risk of confrontation is especially high, and caution is imperative. Being overly so, however, dulls the conversation and muddles thoughts.
I find it really easy to explain my views to a stranger. Amazingly, with friends, its less easier. More often than not, I find myself confused and unable to clearly state myself with them, and end up ''hmmm"...ing and "ah"...ing.
I wasn't always like that though. There was a time when like any normal person, I found comfort and consent in my friends. But at some point that had changed. My college years have seen a fair bit of drama in this respect. There have been numerous people(read:friends) whom I've found on the 'other' side of the fence. And having a fair discussion with them was never really possible.
What started as a mere discussion almost always snowballed into an argument that never gave an inch of conclusion, but a mile of heartburn. So one day, I just asked myself, why do I have to keep having these heated conversations which never yielded anything good. My pride said, "You should make your opinions heard." But my ego said, "You should make your opinion universal."
Suddenly, I realised what was giving me this much pain. It wasn't my pride but my ego. I realised there isn't a need to force my opinion on everybody. That there will always be people with a different view, and I must at the very least give them respect, if not my assent.
Opinions come in three forms. Right, wrong and inconclusive ( my synonym for debatable, in this context). When you're wrong, and you don't know it, hear out what people have to say, and make an informed judgement in due course. However, if you DO know, and STILL argue, you deserve a rap.
Now, here's the next kind. When you know for a fact that somebody is wrong, I'd say just state your view, the basis on which you framed it and leave it at that. If someone's being a moron, you can't help it. Why argue? Not unless it damages you personally, atleast.
Oh, and about the indecisive kind? No one's right, no one's wrong. So an argument leads nowhere. On the floors of he UN general assembly, may be it does, but in the corridors of your college, hmm... maybe not.
So when in doubt, I'd say take the moral route. You might appear a bit of a snob, and the other guy a masochist, but it'd probably save you a big headache.
When talking to strangers, morality is masked beneath layers of fluff. But when its your friends that you're talking to, the no-holds-barred, in-your-face apporach is generally better. However, its is here that the risk of confrontation is especially high, and caution is imperative. Being overly so, however, dulls the conversation and muddles thoughts.
I find it really easy to explain my views to a stranger. Amazingly, with friends, its less easier. More often than not, I find myself confused and unable to clearly state myself with them, and end up ''hmmm"...ing and "ah"...ing.
I wasn't always like that though. There was a time when like any normal person, I found comfort and consent in my friends. But at some point that had changed. My college years have seen a fair bit of drama in this respect. There have been numerous people(read:friends) whom I've found on the 'other' side of the fence. And having a fair discussion with them was never really possible.
What started as a mere discussion almost always snowballed into an argument that never gave an inch of conclusion, but a mile of heartburn. So one day, I just asked myself, why do I have to keep having these heated conversations which never yielded anything good. My pride said, "You should make your opinions heard." But my ego said, "You should make your opinion universal."
Suddenly, I realised what was giving me this much pain. It wasn't my pride but my ego. I realised there isn't a need to force my opinion on everybody. That there will always be people with a different view, and I must at the very least give them respect, if not my assent.
Opinions come in three forms. Right, wrong and inconclusive ( my synonym for debatable, in this context). When you're wrong, and you don't know it, hear out what people have to say, and make an informed judgement in due course. However, if you DO know, and STILL argue, you deserve a rap.
Now, here's the next kind. When you know for a fact that somebody is wrong, I'd say just state your view, the basis on which you framed it and leave it at that. If someone's being a moron, you can't help it. Why argue? Not unless it damages you personally, atleast.
Oh, and about the indecisive kind? No one's right, no one's wrong. So an argument leads nowhere. On the floors of he UN general assembly, may be it does, but in the corridors of your college, hmm... maybe not.
So when in doubt, I'd say take the moral route. You might appear a bit of a snob, and the other guy a masochist, but it'd probably save you a big headache.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Abs(tin)ence
Was I Simply away, or was I 'keeping' myself away? That's the first question I'm asking myself as I sit in front of my computer typing away on the eve of the 'first' of my 'last' exams in engineering.
A quick reference to previous posts will give you a clear indication as to how long I've been away. And yet, I feel no sense of returning to what I once had. Perhaps my blogging hadn't really started in earnest. The proverbial 'jumped the gun' kind of false start. So here I am trying to make amends, not least because I felt I made an internet mockery of myself with my minuscule posts.
As would be quite natural, considering the time that has elapsed since my last post, change, both inevitable, spectacular and/or undesirable have swept through my life. I will enlighten us all with the scale and proportions of the said changes in due course, but for now, let's get back to my original question.
Now, in all fairness, I'd say that fads and trends have their effect on normal people (read as :ME). Like a new date, all sweet and chirpy at first, only to be tactit and boring within months (or in worse cases, days). So I'd started with genuine enthusiasm, only to find myself bored making meaningless posts without any significance to anyone. And so BOREDOM, the bug bear of all 21st centurions had its say.
But now, I'm back with a vengeance. I will beat the demonic boredom back to its lair deep within the realms of my heart and reign on with evergreen appreciation for life and words representative of the same.
Salutations to a certain misplaced genius, who's blasted me into action. May his words find their true meaning and reach and inspire us all to get our arses back into action.
A quick reference to previous posts will give you a clear indication as to how long I've been away. And yet, I feel no sense of returning to what I once had. Perhaps my blogging hadn't really started in earnest. The proverbial 'jumped the gun' kind of false start. So here I am trying to make amends, not least because I felt I made an internet mockery of myself with my minuscule posts.
As would be quite natural, considering the time that has elapsed since my last post, change, both inevitable, spectacular and/or undesirable have swept through my life. I will enlighten us all with the scale and proportions of the said changes in due course, but for now, let's get back to my original question.
Now, in all fairness, I'd say that fads and trends have their effect on normal people (read as :ME). Like a new date, all sweet and chirpy at first, only to be tactit and boring within months (or in worse cases, days). So I'd started with genuine enthusiasm, only to find myself bored making meaningless posts without any significance to anyone. And so BOREDOM, the bug bear of all 21st centurions had its say.
But now, I'm back with a vengeance. I will beat the demonic boredom back to its lair deep within the realms of my heart and reign on with evergreen appreciation for life and words representative of the same.
Salutations to a certain misplaced genius, who's blasted me into action. May his words find their true meaning and reach and inspire us all to get our arses back into action.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Didn't give a bit of chihuahua flatulence...
Trust J.K. Rowling to come up with such a singularly unique phrase.
But the context it was used in was far more serious, wasn't it? Would you care to be as thin as the models who walk the ramp? What a silly question, of course you would!
Come on, anyone who says 'No' has gotta be kidding. Guys fall for Deepal Shaw and not Kiran Mazumdar Shaw, after all.
Anyway, forget about loving others. Do I want to be one of the Killer jeans' boys? Would love to, but at the outset that would seem as unlikely as Bangladesh winning the next cricket world cup.
However, there is hope. The holy temple of muscle and sinew, 'GYM'. It's been two and a half months since I've been there, and the experience while not being overwhelmingly successful has its highs. It all started with the need to get my globe like proportions under control. The 'Geek' image was beginning to look like a stamp on me, and being academically reasonable didn't help at all. Desperate to break out of the mould, I found myself at the suspiciously named 'Cyber Gym'. And while there was nothing space-age about it, it did look like a peaceful place to be. A 10 kg reduction from 85 to 75 kg sounded perfect and visions of size 34 jeans couldn't help but float in and out of my head.
But reality has different plans for you. The diet chart had a greater lightning bolt effect on me than any of my latest results. 1 chapati, 1 cup of rice, fruits, sprouts. And here's the killer-Honey with lemon juice!!!!!!
What are they, insane? Obviously, this isn't for human beings!
I mutinously declined from following such an outrageous chart. So my staple diet of just about anything I want continued. But the workout at gym was definitely not mild, and I bent, stretched, sweated, screamed and just generally came close to giving myself a heart attack. It seemed like my body and heart were at loggerheads, each desparate to win me over. I have to admit, once the workouts began, every morsel carried a tinge of guilt. As things stand today, I have lost 5kg and gained some muscle. So it's not the earth-shattering success I had expected, but hey, it's a start... Size 36, I'm coming to get ya!
But the context it was used in was far more serious, wasn't it? Would you care to be as thin as the models who walk the ramp? What a silly question, of course you would!
Come on, anyone who says 'No' has gotta be kidding. Guys fall for Deepal Shaw and not Kiran Mazumdar Shaw, after all.
Anyway, forget about loving others. Do I want to be one of the Killer jeans' boys? Would love to, but at the outset that would seem as unlikely as Bangladesh winning the next cricket world cup.
However, there is hope. The holy temple of muscle and sinew, 'GYM'. It's been two and a half months since I've been there, and the experience while not being overwhelmingly successful has its highs. It all started with the need to get my globe like proportions under control. The 'Geek' image was beginning to look like a stamp on me, and being academically reasonable didn't help at all. Desperate to break out of the mould, I found myself at the suspiciously named 'Cyber Gym'. And while there was nothing space-age about it, it did look like a peaceful place to be. A 10 kg reduction from 85 to 75 kg sounded perfect and visions of size 34 jeans couldn't help but float in and out of my head.
But reality has different plans for you. The diet chart had a greater lightning bolt effect on me than any of my latest results. 1 chapati, 1 cup of rice, fruits, sprouts. And here's the killer-Honey with lemon juice!!!!!!
What are they, insane? Obviously, this isn't for human beings!
I mutinously declined from following such an outrageous chart. So my staple diet of just about anything I want continued. But the workout at gym was definitely not mild, and I bent, stretched, sweated, screamed and just generally came close to giving myself a heart attack. It seemed like my body and heart were at loggerheads, each desparate to win me over. I have to admit, once the workouts began, every morsel carried a tinge of guilt. As things stand today, I have lost 5kg and gained some muscle. So it's not the earth-shattering success I had expected, but hey, it's a start... Size 36, I'm coming to get ya!
Creating my space...
the road goes on, lonely so
whither it leads, i do not know...
With a future as uncertain as the fate of world security, I felt it's about time I left my imprint on the chain of human thoughts...
Hi! My name is Sankhdeep Mitra. I am your average 19-year old, who struggles to cope with life and its numerous challenges, but manage to scrape through, nevertheless...
My hub of activity? The debatably named 'Global Academy of technology' in Bangalore(though how an institute, where kannada seems to be the official language, gets this name is beyond me. 'Local Academy of Technology' would have been more appropriate)
Pursuing a mechanical degree, I am currently in the 4th semester and am likely to stay there unless drastic changes are brought into action soon.
Oh, did I forget to mention I'm a very pessimistic person? Ah, that's me. With a 'B-ve' bloodgroup, who can blame me?
But hey, this spot isn't about ranting after all(or is it?). Life as a hopelessly lost engineering student in Bangalore has its upsides...
If only I could relive them more often.
Not the best of days to start off on something new, but hopefully things get better from here...
Or maybe it's the summer night that's giving me a headache...
whither it leads, i do not know...
With a future as uncertain as the fate of world security, I felt it's about time I left my imprint on the chain of human thoughts...
Hi! My name is Sankhdeep Mitra. I am your average 19-year old, who struggles to cope with life and its numerous challenges, but manage to scrape through, nevertheless...
My hub of activity? The debatably named 'Global Academy of technology' in Bangalore(though how an institute, where kannada seems to be the official language, gets this name is beyond me. 'Local Academy of Technology' would have been more appropriate)
Pursuing a mechanical degree, I am currently in the 4th semester and am likely to stay there unless drastic changes are brought into action soon.
Oh, did I forget to mention I'm a very pessimistic person? Ah, that's me. With a 'B-ve' bloodgroup, who can blame me?
But hey, this spot isn't about ranting after all(or is it?). Life as a hopelessly lost engineering student in Bangalore has its upsides...
If only I could relive them more often.
Not the best of days to start off on something new, but hopefully things get better from here...
Or maybe it's the summer night that's giving me a headache...
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