Main aur meri mardhangi
Main aur meri mardhangi Aksar ye batein karte hain
Tum hote to kaisa hotatu yeh kahte, tum woh kahte
Tum is baat pe hairan hotetum us baat pe kitni haste
tum hote to aisa hota, tum hote to waisa hota
Main aur meri mardhangi,aksar yeh baten karte hain

Yeh raat hai ya computer screen ki hai chandani,
ya tumhari nazron se meri raatein dhooli hui hain
Yeh error hai ya koi false alert
sitarain hain ya message ke beep
Air conditioning ka jhoka hai, ya kiski extra-strong de-odurant ki khusboo
Yeh pattiyon ki hai sarsarahat, ki cisco phone me koi chupke se kuch kahara hai
Yeh sochta hoon main kabse gumsum jabki mujhko bhi yeh khabar hai
Ki tum nahi ho, kahin nahi ho Margar yeh dil hai ki kah raha haiki tum yahin ho, yahin kahin ho.
Majboor yeh haalat edhar bhi hai udhar bhi
Tanhai ki ek raat edhar bhi hai udhar bhi
Kahne ko bahut kuch hai magar kisse kahain hum
Kab tak yuhin khamosh rahein aur sahe hum
Dil kahta hai tec* ke har alert ko hata dein
Neend jo hum sab mein hai aaj bat dein
Kyun dil mein sulagte rahain, logo ko bata dein HAN HUMKO neend arrahi HAI, aarhai HAI, arrahi hai!
Aub dil mein yahi baat edhar bhi hai udhar bhi
Main aur meri mardhangiAksar ye batein karte hain

For a middle class boy who grew up hearing thigs like "work is worship" and "honesty is the best policy" the whole idea of staying up late nights just so that some1 else sleeps early is a lil disturbing.What happened to those ideas of "Yes we can" and "I will be the change"? Those dreams of being a rich guy someday? Those dreams of donating to a noble cause?All those turned out to be nothing more than calculating how much more u can claim for travel benifits, shift allowance and so on. Compare each other's pay slip and find out who has made the most.Call up relatives in US using ur office phone,take 100 page personal prints using the office printer,ask for 100rs petrol bill for 25rs of petrol.See which girl's top is too low or whose bottom is too high,comment on a girl's waistline,neckline and her phoneline,talk in front of a colleauge in language he does not understand,buy the costliest mobile on loan,watch movies on the net while at work, take sick leaves on new year's eve.

Mein aur meri mardhangi aksar ye baate karte hainTum hote to kaisa hota,tu yeh kahte, tum woh kahte

*tec=something i work on
P.s: Office blogging is FUN..!!

It’s ignorance meets egoism meets bad taste meets mob rule.

T. H. Huxley, the nineteenth-century evolutionary biologist and author of the “infinite monkey theorem.” Huxley’s theory says that if you provide infinite monkeys with infinite typewriters, some monkey somewhere will eventually create a masterpiece—a play by Shakespeare, a Platonic dialogue, or an economic treatise by Adam Smith.^[1]

In the pre-Internet age, T. H. Huxley’s scenario of infinite monkeys empowered with infinite technology seemed more like a mathematical jest than a dystopian vision. But what had once appeared as a joke now seems to foretell the consequences of a flattening of culture that is blurring the lines between traditional audience and author, creator and consumer, expert and amateur. This is no laughing matter.

Today’s technology hooks all those monkeys up with all those typewriters. Except in our Web 2.0 world, the typewriters aren’t quite typewriters, but rather networked personal computers, and the monkeys aren’t quite monkeys, but rather Internet users. And instead of creating masterpieces, these millions and millions of exuberant monkeys—many with no more talent in the creative arts than our primate cousins—are creating an endless digital forest of mediocrity. For today’s amateur monkeys can use their networked computers to publish everything from uninformed political commentary, to unseemly home videos, to embarrassingly amateurish music, to unreadable poems, reviews, essays, and novels.

At the heart of this infinite monkey experiment in self-publishing is the Internet diary, the ubiquitous blog. Blogging has become such a mania that a new blog is being created every second of every minute of every hour of every day. We are blogging with monkeylike shamelessness about our private lives, our sex lives, our dream lives, our lack of lives, our Second Lives. At the time of writing there are fifty-three million blogs on the Internet, and this number is doubling every six months. In the time it took you to read this paragraph, ten new blogs were launched.

If we keep up this pace, there will be over five hundred million blogs by 2010, collectively corrupting and confusing popular opinion about everything from politics, to commerce, to arts and culture. Blogs have become so dizzyingly infinite that they’ve undermined our sense of what is true and what is false, what is real and what is imaginary. These days, kids can’t tell the difference between credible news by objective professional journalists and what they read on joeshmoe.blogspot.com. For these Generation Y utopians, every posting is just another person’s version of the truth; every fiction is just another person’s version of the facts.

The above excerpt from the book-The Cult of the Amateur: How Today's Internet Is Killing Our Culture is some food for thought for all of us jobless bloggers. Read this book if u can, or ask me for it...i will search for a pdf...!! :P :P

P.S. Do u agree with the author's view on internet and all the other things..?? Thanks to internet I can atleast pay my own bills..!!!

Paying the PRICE.......
Now that I am fully grown adult(at least physically), living in the big city and earning a decent amount enough to fill my stomach(and other things)....it seems insanely ridiculous when mother india asks you to pay for ice creams....!!! I mean...for 21.7 years you and father have paid for my ice creams,clothes,food,petrol,books(which i never asked you to pay for),guns and all the other things i spend on and i do not tell you about. Just because i have started earning and i dont know what to do with the money i get...does not mean i've got to pay for ice creams, the mensinakay, kotthombri soppu, the gellucil, the zenetac and all that stupid stuff! What happened to those 5rs u would give me to get all this stuff and whose change u would never get back..!?? what happened to those 2 crisp notes i used to get every 5th day of the month..??? What happened to those coins u always wondered as to where they disappeared..??
Am i paying the price for everything or am i paying the price..........????

Not At all ON....!!!
Me and 12 year old brother india are watching a decent enough song on Mtv. There is tickr which always scrolls on the bottom of the screen and carries spoofs of popular hindi movies.Today it was about the movie "ROCK ON". It said,

Q."What will the porno version of ROCK ON be called?"

A."HARD ON" :)

thats what appeared and 12 yr old brother india asks me what "HARD ON" means...!!!!!
Believe me when i say ive explained more deeper anatomical things to girls of my age and some times of boys of my age too. But...this was...i donno....I was in-explainable to my own brother...!!! Thankfully the next scroll was

Q."If the movie was about a girl band, what would it be called?"

A. "FROCK ON"

Reading this 12 yr old brother india and me laughed "HA HA HA" and hopefully he forgot about the HARD ON stuff....!!!!

P.S Sadhya he did not ask me what porno meant...!!!

P.S.2 what am i gonna answer the next time if he asks me something as deeply, broadly and HARD-ly anatomical as this..!?!? please help..thumba thanks..!!!

Low disk space


You are running out of disk space on local disk (U:) to free space on this drive by deleting unnecessary files click (w)here.
It is recommended that you not remove these files unless you always have ready accesses to your original media.

It revealed more than what it hid.....
Just another ride after dropping off my mother to the bus stand. Its 12.45 and unusually hot for a december afternoon. Waiting for the signal to turn green, I see a woman clad in a burka and a hijab walk past me. Fortunately for me or unfortunately for her, the hijab and the burka failed to serve their purpose. The strands of hair fluttered in the dusty wind, her copper coloured hand straightened it out, she adjusted her burka a little, and walked past me,the sway of her hips revealed her feminity which no tube top or low strung jeans could have matched. The light changed from red to green, I was still standing where i was, a shrill horn made me accelerate, I was just in time to catch up with her, I was about to turn and catch a glimpse of her face, and then i realized, why spoil the romance...!???
Did I see her hips sway because i am me, or did she just walk that way...?? Did I see what she wanted me to see, or did I see what I wanted to see...??

I waited for the light to turn green........in another signal, on another day....

Logic...

Of what use is the rainbow to the sky..??
What joy does it bring to make paper boats and watch them float on rain drenched roads...??
What does one get out of watching a sun set behind the hills...??
Sometimes logic seems so illogical.They say it is a soul thing, ask those people who have lost theirs....!!!

VICTORY...!??



"There are some defeats more triumphant than victories................."
How I wish I were defeated rather than being "THE VICTORIOUS" one......
The taste of winning was bitter............its stench, untolerable............its feel.....the touch of dead wood......its effect...nauseating.....