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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168</id><updated>2009-11-09T16:34:05.561+05:30</updated><title type="text">a few hundred words</title><subtitle type="html">a teenager's take on life, college and everything in between...</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>123</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link rel="license" type="text/html" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.5/" /><link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/AFewHundredWords" type="application/atom+xml" /><feedburner:browserFriendly>This is an XML content feed. It is intended to be viewed in a newsreader or syndicated to another site, subject to copyright and fair use.</feedburner:browserFriendly><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-7397279556530874824</id><published>2009-08-22T16:34:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-22T17:51:30.406+05:30</updated><title type="text">Rain dance</title><content type="html">Last night, I think my efforts in rain dancing succeeded.&lt;br /&gt;Looking at the way it was, I'm pretty sure it wasn't my effort to invoke the rain alone. It was like the answer to the prayers of 50 million worshipers of the Rain Gods. And if you were in Delhi last night, you have got to admit it was a brilliant answer at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me describe it at a clearer level -- if you were in mid-air, and it was raining like it was last night, you'd be screaming for help like you were thrown out of your raft in a class 4 whitewater rapid. But if you were standing on firm ground, you would have been lucky to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, as the rain moved forth and converted rain-haters to rain-lovers, it blew a couple of trees here and there. All nature's way of recycling and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, a poor dude had his car parked on the very firm ground we talked about, and unfortunately a swishing tree landed on his car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, normally, I'd express sympathy for a guy like that, even though there wasn't too much damage and his car was still in working condition. In fact, I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until today, that is. Until I found out who the car's owner really was.&lt;br /&gt;Dude had the gall to cut away&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; all &lt;/span&gt;the trees in a mile's radius so that it doesn't happen again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was reminiscent of the villainous, multi-gazillion dollar industry owners you'd see in old Hindi movies; Laden in a red robe, smoking a pipe and ordering deforestation on a Veblen cellular device.&lt;br /&gt;The only problem was that this wasn't a Hindi movie. The trees were going down for real, and the guy responsible for it wasn't a multi-gazillion dollar industry owner. As far as I know, he's not too keen on owning intelligence either, let alone concern for the environment. In fact, the guy's a a swab of a prick whose fat stomach blinds him from his feet. And now it seems like his feet aren't the only things he can't see.&lt;br /&gt;Plus, I thought schools were making kids smarter these days and well aware that we need &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; trees right now.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Seems like that's an epic fail, too, because the only thing the kid helped his dad do was take pictures of this precious time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frankly, I hope this treasured memory makes him scream in his dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, I could go on and argue that God probably gave humans too much power when He gave us room to kill. Instead, I'm going to describe what I saw when a tree came down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Why was he doing this? He'd get a full insurance claim. Plus, there wasn't too much damage. The roof was a little bent, that's all. He'd probably stash more money from insurance than the car needed...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trees take time to cut. This one I'm talking about took over 4 hours, I believe. They tied the ropes, and then they came in with the blades. They sawed and I saw from my window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it illegal to cut trees? Should I call the police?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, they were done. They yelled and they ran away. Then, they pulled the ropes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tree fell with a hard thud. The ground shook like an Earthquake, quite too literally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think you need someone to tell you in school that you shouldn't take down trees just because you can. You don't have to be Einstein, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the tree, I can only hope they won't burn it down like the rest of the trash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stupidity will lead to the end of Earth. Hopefully, we'll be there to see it, and we'll know who to blame for our deaths. The only question I ponder upon now is that if I punch the guy in the face and take a tooth out, will he get all of them extracted?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-7397279556530874824?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/7397279556530874824/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2009/08/rain-dance.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/7397279556530874824" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/7397279556530874824" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/H5LCzRQZWzI/rain-dance.html" title="Rain dance" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2009/08/rain-dance.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-3455887443426552555</id><published>2009-08-03T18:37:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-03T19:09:32.137+05:30</updated><title type="text">Insence and peppermints</title><content type="html">Today was like oil in water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Irresponsible fools who have no control over themselves or are restricted to a somewhat myopic vision of their actions rarely do things right. At least things people would appreciate.&lt;br /&gt;But I assume, now, that this wasn't about gathering appreciation. This was merely a cold announcement, that not only came in pleasurably late, but at a time that would cause food poisoning upon ingestion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clearly, all men must pay for their sins within their time.&lt;br /&gt;With no room for escape and someplace to run, thunder will strike appropriately, though sometimes delayed. And when it strikes, those who must pay, will pay in full.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With this, I cancel my plan to write a day for a week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-3455887443426552555?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/3455887443426552555/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2009/08/insence-and-peppermints.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/3455887443426552555" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/3455887443426552555" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/1YoAygK1YC4/insence-and-peppermints.html" title="Insence and peppermints" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2009/08/insence-and-peppermints.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-9189454722167710352</id><published>2009-08-02T14:22:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-02T15:11:53.396+05:30</updated><title type="text">The barrel</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Purple haze is in the sky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the distance, fire rolls in a barrel. It's not really cold, so it is harshly unclear who lit it in the first place. However, it'll be cold soon. But somebody needs to take care of the monoxides they've been releasing because of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, college is about to start again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I feel like smiling or sighing.&lt;br /&gt;It's a complex mathematical equation in explanation, even though it's not really like that. It's like a complex love-hate relationship that never ceases to turn the tables around; like a coin that's in the air when you've chosen to toss it in favor of an odd - because when it's in the air, it's spinning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perennial confusion makes for a sweet dessert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, while I'm stepping out of line, I gotta tell ya' -- this hiatus almost felt like one. But now that I look back at my blog, I have to say I did write. Sure, you couldn't see it, but that's only because silence was pretty much the best way to describe the time I had. It had a profound meaning, you'll notice. A meaning that revolved in troubled times. Times of void. Times of making music. Times of not reading the Times of India. Confused efforts. Mis-managed times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, next time you see the gap between &lt;a href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/12/last-day-of-december.html"&gt;December 31st&lt;/a&gt; and today, read it. After all, it was life in my 18th year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I do deserve some punishment. So I'm going to hit out a post a day, every day, for a week. Turn up the volume on your RSS readers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There goes another booger.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-9189454722167710352?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/9189454722167710352/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2009/08/barrel.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/9189454722167710352" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/9189454722167710352" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/D5b5cKfHJZM/barrel.html" title="The barrel" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2009/08/barrel.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-3739286441755853927</id><published>2008-12-31T20:10:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-31T20:13:22.764+05:30</updated><title type="text">The last day of December</title><content type="html">When you sit down in the evening -- curtains closed, low natural light -- you realize how fast the year's gone past. At one point of your think-trip, it almost feels like a blaze and you remember January like it was yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when the year began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I don't.&lt;br /&gt;But what I do remember is that, even though, right now it feels like the year went away in a flash, there were times that were sluggish beyond imagination. Those were the days that just wouldn't end, no matter how much you wanted them to.&lt;br /&gt;And then, there were the days you wished would last longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For me, waiting for college was like pushing a building. Nothing seemed to happen at a stretch of 3 months. Nothing. I don't even know &lt;i&gt;how&lt;/i&gt; those months got crossed off the calendar. Waking up at 12 and going to sleep twelve hours later &lt;i&gt;never&lt;/i&gt; seemed to go so slow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But one day, it was over. And then, it felt like coming out of an underground bomb shelter after a Nuclear attack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's precisely when college doors opened for me.&lt;br /&gt;And after college began, there was no way of tracing the clock's footsteps. Days were passing by like the pages flip when you're reading the most interestingest novel.&lt;br /&gt;It just happened a couple of months ago, and I can't even mathematically explain how it was only a couple of months.&lt;br /&gt;For one thing, I got out of school &lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt; year, but it feels like it's been forty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's obviously some sort of problem in the space-time continuum when it comes to this day. Time dilates and contracts and inflates and shrinks and it all goes crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, but that's pretty much what happens every year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing that happens every year, somewhere around this date, but preferably no later, is that I say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have a happy new year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-3739286441755853927?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/3739286441755853927/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/12/last-day-of-december.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/3739286441755853927" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/3739286441755853927" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/uVqw7fnlekE/last-day-of-december.html" title="The last day of December" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/12/last-day-of-december.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-2334261229282303358</id><published>2008-12-25T23:41:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-25T23:42:03.847+05:30</updated><title type="text">Candycanes</title><content type="html">Christmas day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This day has something weird about it. I can't really put my finger on it, but I have to say it's not really positive. For starters, those Christmas songs are really depressing. I don't know what it is, but they have this melancholy inducing power or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silent night, and a voice that dances around in misery telling you "Hey! Have a merry Christmas!". That's not what I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But like I said, I can't really tell if I want to hold those songs responsible for everything that goes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I have no idea. I don't know if it's the smell of the food, or the red hats everywhere. Maybe it's the fights I've been having or the fact that I haven't been on a shopping spree of late. It could even be my broken headphones. I don't even know why I'm taking it all out on this day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One thing's for sure though -- those songs are no good. They've got something wrong in the melody or something. All those bells in the music and schoolboy choruses -- no good.&lt;br /&gt;Punk rock is far more cheerful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to top off those bad songs playing at the malls, I had a Toasty Twister and it didn't quite taste up to my expectations. It was just another reminder that I never should've digressed from the Zinger burger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the trouble with being sad is that, you tend to spread it around you, whenever you talk to someone. That, and anger. They're pretty Newtonian.&lt;br /&gt;And since that's something I absolutely do not want to do, I just hope you have a very Zingery Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, it's almost over, but what the hey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-2334261229282303358?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/2334261229282303358/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/12/candycanes.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/2334261229282303358" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/2334261229282303358" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/yq45JglAe9w/candycanes.html" title="Candycanes" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/12/candycanes.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-1262113638939701863</id><published>2008-12-23T11:26:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-23T14:02:21.440+05:30</updated><title type="text">I con fusion</title><content type="html">At one point of time, life was crystal clear.&lt;br /&gt;You knew where the train headed, and why you were going there. Things made sense out of the sheer desire to make sense, and it was all like a movie on Blu-ray.&lt;br /&gt;At one point of time, life was crystal clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that was probably sometime in the '60s.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when I thought I was somehow exempt from teenage hysteria, it gripped me like a cold hands on a warm cup of coffee. Odiously, it hasn't loosened its grip since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, my will to write about the Mumbai attack (11/26) was crushed when I was stuck choosing between:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"It's not raining."&lt;/span&gt; and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"It isn't raining."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Complexities have sprouted from nowhere, and I'm constantly standing at a fork in the road. This has led me to believe that I'm probably the only one who doesn't know what's going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guys who missed their Metro Train home and stood, like a stone, at the station to watch the news about the situation in Mumbai when a couple of idiots hooked to GTA busted into the Taj -- they seemed to know what they were doing.&lt;br /&gt;Why was I trying to get a seat in the Metro then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids in college, who came in like me, at the same time as me, study day and night, and are on no sleep -- they seem to know what they're doing.&lt;br /&gt;Why was I thinking of a new template for my blog then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm always heading in the opposi -- Wait a second!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No sleep? Are you kidding me? Those books don't deserve that! I don't care if you spent all night trying to memorise a useless fact about types of hammers! Plus, the results aren't even out yet. We'll see who thought about their blog, slept all night &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; comes out on top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And those who &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cared&lt;/span&gt; about the Mumbai blast -- YOU don't know what you're doing. You're protesting against terrorism? Wow, smart move. It's not a freaking Government you're protesting against -- taking the nation to a halt for a day and marching out to the gate won't do anything. How does it even matter? Do you really think &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;protesting&lt;/span&gt; against terrorism will make them stop? "Oh my God! Those guys are protesting against terrorists! We can't attack there!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't mean to kid around when I say 'Rang De Basanti' has really gone to your head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, peace marches or lighting candles -- those are personal beliefs, and they &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; make sense. Protesting against someone who doesn't care, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; is stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, at least you made me feel smart.&lt;br /&gt;I may have written only 118 posts, and this may be the millionth one about utter confusion, but you've done a good job at stopping me from writing my next post about confission. Fusion. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-1262113638939701863?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/1262113638939701863/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-con-fusion.html#comment-form" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/1262113638939701863" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/1262113638939701863" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/iRDHxTuMy6U/i-con-fusion.html" title="I con fusion" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-con-fusion.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-2705004900446043272</id><published>2008-11-12T20:50:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-12T20:59:33.706+05:30</updated><title type="text">Little does he know</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="380" height="308"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gBWPf1BWtkw&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gBWPf1BWtkw&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't need a signal to know if I have a blog. Google it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-2705004900446043272?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/2705004900446043272/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/11/little-does-he-know.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/2705004900446043272" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/2705004900446043272" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/7EqAyOXTwzM/little-does-he-know.html" title="Little does he know" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/11/little-does-he-know.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-6444640828224913125</id><published>2008-10-12T22:21:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-10-13T00:00:47.747+05:30</updated><title type="text">Party's over</title><content type="html">It's one thing to &lt;a href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2007/09/this-belated-this-is-getting-to-me.html"&gt;forget September 27&lt;/a&gt; and write back 2 days later with an "Uh...I'm sorry" note, but to forget the 18th -- &lt;a href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2005/09/hello-world.html"&gt;the very day this began&lt;/a&gt; -- and remember it at the beginning of the next month, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and then&lt;/span&gt; write about it ten days later is way beyond absolution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since there's no point in asking for an apology, I'll just go forth and pile your desk up with &lt;strike&gt;the ton of excuses I just came up with&lt;/strike&gt; a classy, chronological and intermediately descriptive account of events that kept me from getting my blog a 'Happy Birthday!' card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;College&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School's been over for a long, long time now. College hasn't been on for that long, but it sure feels longer. Intriguingly enough, college, or at least &lt;i&gt;my&lt;/i&gt; college, is closer to 5th grade school than anything else. The backpacks are heavy again. The homework's being submitted again. The homework's being submitted &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;on time&lt;/span&gt; again. The files are being overworked at again.&lt;br /&gt;With that as only a minute percentage of my periodic workload, I found it hard to scribble with my keyboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Home&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since college began, home became the holy abode of homework.  Files were (and still are) due every mañana, so there was absolutely no way for me to come back home at 7:30, sit down for half an hour, copy from a freaking, highly erroneous and stupidity-laden (so-called) lab manual, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; draw meaningless diagrams of the null, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;and &lt;/span&gt;then go out on the hunt for a wild birthday card.&lt;br /&gt;Mission unaccomplished, baby!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The power button&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the power button's all the way below my knee (at chair level) and damn. I was so freaking lazy that I...just...*yawn*..cou..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;College&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;College, or at least, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; college is nothing like the one they show in '&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaane_Tu_Ya_Jaane_Na"&gt;Jaane Tu...ya jaane na&lt;/a&gt;' (or other movies of such nature). But the worst part is that it isn't anything like '&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaane_Tu_Ya_Jaane_Na"&gt;Jaane Tu...ya jaane na&lt;/a&gt;'. At least not yet.&lt;br /&gt;The sorrow bogged me down. I couldn't write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;College&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chemistry is an evil subject and it's hard to believe the government hasn't banned it yet. What's harder to believe is that it doesn't matter what you're studying, you just have to "study" chemistry. Now, some of you might argue otherwise and tell me that the debate is pointless, but the truth is that chemistry is pointless -- to me and to millions of teenagers like me.&lt;br /&gt;Stop tethering chemistry with B.Tech, let abhas1 wish a little birthday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Excuses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought of one/elaborated an older one everyday.&lt;br /&gt;"Write today? Nah! I'll tell them &lt;a href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/06/to-batmobile.html"&gt;&lt;strike&gt;the planet exploded&lt;/strike&gt;&lt;/a&gt; my dog ate the draft!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;College&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to slice bars of iron. Really! And my arms were wrapped in crepe bandage to fight the overlord of Pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now don't ask me how I sat down to write this. All I know is that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this belated thing is getting to me&lt;/span&gt;. And that I forgot the 27th this year, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damnation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-6444640828224913125?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/6444640828224913125/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/10/partys-over.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/6444640828224913125" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/6444640828224913125" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/yVlUkdFEe_g/partys-over.html" title="Party's over" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/10/partys-over.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-4737566139924368504</id><published>2008-09-16T19:25:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-16T19:35:43.165+05:30</updated><title type="text">?Yhw</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;Where do you go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;to be safe?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Where can you tell yourself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;NOTHING &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:130%;" &gt;will go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:180%;" &gt;wrong?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-family: georgia;"&gt;Are you &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;too sure&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;"&gt; saw&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; the blast.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-family: georgia;"&gt;A bomb &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;explode&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;with my own freakin' eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;right in front of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;If was any closer, I would&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;have been&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;in the &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;smoke&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where do you go?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Where do you know?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;They &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:180%;" &gt;know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: georgia;"&gt;no shame&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;They &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;play&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; religion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Why mustn't you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-family: georgia;"&gt;And kill &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that of the trash&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-4737566139924368504?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/4737566139924368504/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/09/yhw.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/4737566139924368504" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/4737566139924368504" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/1pBJJ2bx618/yhw.html" title="?Yhw" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/09/yhw.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-4953211205387165154</id><published>2008-09-04T22:11:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-09-04T22:20:12.446+05:30</updated><title type="text">All hope is lost</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SMARs4ieJEI/AAAAAAAAAFA/RDq758K_YYU/s1600-h/FHW2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SMARs4ieJEI/AAAAAAAAAFA/RDq758K_YYU/s400/FHW2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242209429048140866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Or is it really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-4953211205387165154?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/4953211205387165154/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/09/all-hope-is-lost.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/4953211205387165154" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/4953211205387165154" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/5za2EUz9ZnA/all-hope-is-lost.html" title="All hope is lost" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SMARs4ieJEI/AAAAAAAAAFA/RDq758K_YYU/s72-c/FHW2.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/09/all-hope-is-lost.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-7578517613902151002</id><published>2008-08-28T15:04:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-28T15:10:43.461+05:30</updated><title type="text">Binary choice</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Log:&lt;br /&gt;July 25, 2007&lt;br /&gt;12:32 PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Begin transmission]&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, you're [noise], right?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Signal disturbance; High attenuation, noise]&lt;br /&gt;"A[noise]s! Go back to your seat!"&lt;br /&gt;::[./High pitched scream noted during message]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"..." [sigh] "Bye"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[End transmission]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Erase? [Y/N]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-7578517613902151002?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/7578517613902151002/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/08/binary-choice.html#comment-form" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/7578517613902151002" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/7578517613902151002" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/JdVbRuR3Bo4/binary-choice.html" title="Binary choice" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/08/binary-choice.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-6352779399967384919</id><published>2008-08-27T19:36:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-28T15:01:19.308+05:30</updated><title type="text">Rant party</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SLZrZLmL-JI/AAAAAAAAAE4/wzxnZ5fFR1c/s1600-h/Untitled-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SLZrZLmL-JI/AAAAAAAAAE4/wzxnZ5fFR1c/s400/Untitled-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239493296846010514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clearly, people of this planet wish to peek deeper inside my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's your prize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Teh Summer of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It takes a lot of work; a big, juicy bottle of concrete effort to wake up early in the morning. And with nothing to do but wait for college to commence, I made it my mission to do so.&lt;br /&gt;I started waking up at no later than 12:30 PM the first day on. No sweat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later in the mornings of the post meridiem, I decided to watch some quality news -- what better to serve my appetite than IndiaTV?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And serve my appetite it did. I cannot thank God enough for my decision to switch to that holy channel. How else would I have been enlightened on the deep, political, cold-war-ish issues of the universe? How else would I have learned that life-forms from light-years away seek to dip cookies in milk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SLZkQZhUCRI/AAAAAAAAAEw/wEjwxPCT5HY/s1600-h/IndiaTV_They_stole_our_cows%21.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SLZkQZhUCRI/AAAAAAAAAEw/wEjwxPCT5HY/s400/IndiaTV_They_stole_our_cows%21.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239485449383446802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say a channel of the stature of IndiaTV should be celebrated. No other channel dares to contemplate a risk so supereme. No other channel delivers as much as this.&lt;br /&gt;And as far as my beliefs go, I feel the owner of this sacred breed of electronic media should be awarded a Nobel Peace Prize. Not only has this noble man changed the face of Indian news by showcasing &lt;s&gt;crap&lt;/s&gt; events from all around the galaxy, he has done his part to serve Mother Earth. By brilliantly executing news production of such awe worthy stories, he has told us that our planet serves a deeper, meaningful purpose in this ever-expanding universe -- milk production.&lt;br /&gt;And soon after his efforts to advertise Cows in deep space suffice, we will become the №.1 supplier of dairy and dairy based products in the entire galaxy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for the owner of such a heralded organization, marketing a planet isn't enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He also does all that he can to ensure prevalence of safety amongst civilians by fighting crime in his own, wonderful way. He &lt;s&gt;dresses up&lt;/s&gt; hires &lt;s&gt;fake&lt;/s&gt; detectives and policemen to solve the most complex crimes with ease, assisting the actual police force in the process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, which other channel does that? Which other channel goes as far as to buy police costumes? Which other channel points fingers in all directions when there's a murder? "YOU! or YOU! EVEN YOU COULD BE THE FREAKIN' CRIMINAL WHO BRUTALLY MURDERED THAT PERSON WITH A BLUNT KNIFE AFTER DRINKING A BEER AND SMELLING SOME PERFUME!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So remember kids, IndiaTV is here to help you when you're about to get killed.&lt;br /&gt;Next time something goes awkwardly out of hand, you know what to dial. Not 1-0-0. &lt;a href="http://www.indiatvnews.com/level2_Tmpl4.aspx?path=0/61"&gt;+91-120-3051000&lt;/a&gt;. That's where the &lt;i&gt;real&lt;/i&gt; cops are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;And that's all I did this summer.&lt;br /&gt;Apart from shredding some Stratocaster metal and working up some Python. And traveling to the west. And the south, briefly. And going &lt;i&gt;live!&lt;/i&gt; twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Packs bags for college*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-6352779399967384919?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/6352779399967384919/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/08/rant-party.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/6352779399967384919" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/6352779399967384919" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/wqkbTHueX-o/rant-party.html" title="Rant party" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SLZrZLmL-JI/AAAAAAAAAE4/wzxnZ5fFR1c/s72-c/Untitled-1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/08/rant-party.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-8795240305762600778</id><published>2008-08-17T17:21:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-17T17:27:57.673+05:30</updated><title type="text">Pshaw</title><content type="html">"So..you're back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you mean?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if I'm really here or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You look here to me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know. Don't you already know how confused I am? I'm confused. Very confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're definitely back. That's a signal."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Signal shmigmal. I don't know!&lt;br /&gt;I might be at some sort of recovery stage, if that counts as 'here'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm confused."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-8795240305762600778?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/8795240305762600778/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/08/pshaw.html#comment-form" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/8795240305762600778" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/8795240305762600778" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/6hqH6GLdM4A/pshaw.html" title="Pshaw" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/08/pshaw.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-2854684326407219115</id><published>2008-06-27T22:39:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:34:03.220+05:30</updated><title type="text">Hold the phone</title><content type="html">You don't have to be a l33t-nerd to know this guy. You don't have to smell of silicon to know what he did. You don't even have to know all your keyboard shortcuts to know his name, because he made it possible for you to run your computer with your mouse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He resides somewhere in Washington, but if you wear your glasses right, you know he is pretty much everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;He is probably part of your computer's operating system, or your web browser. He might even be in your swank ol' HTC cellphone. He's probably even with you right now, as you read this. He is present here, as I write this down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, he'll be everywhere but at Microsoft. He sort of retires, today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SGUiS8z7jfI/AAAAAAAAAEo/2fXAaXq7DYc/s1600-h/Billgates.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SGUiS8z7jfI/AAAAAAAAAEo/2fXAaXq7DYc/s400/Billgates.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216613452335517170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;His name is William, but you call him Bill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-2854684326407219115?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/2854684326407219115/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/06/hold-phone.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/2854684326407219115" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/2854684326407219115" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/kjhUDYvptvY/hold-phone.html" title="Hold the phone" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SGUiS8z7jfI/AAAAAAAAAEo/2fXAaXq7DYc/s72-c/Billgates.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/06/hold-phone.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-1806051403861613147</id><published>2008-06-17T21:37:00.008+05:30</published><updated>2008-06-18T00:51:32.026+05:30</updated><title type="text">To the batmobile!</title><content type="html">Obviously, newsmakers have no idea where to draw the line&lt;sup id="1_to_n"&gt;&lt;a href="#1_to"&gt; 1 &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;. They have this hugely insane idea about trading in paranoia for some shiny new TRP. So, the new round of their daily whatever circles around the Earth exploding sometime in 2012. Until, the next day, when they want you to believe that the Earth is imploding. That, until totally unconfirmed reports &lt;sup id="2_to_n"&gt;&lt;a href="#2_to"&gt; 2 &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/sup&gt; suggest that the Sun is going to crash into our planet. And now, for some reason, they want you to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;think&lt;/span&gt; that the Maya Calendar holds secrets to the future of the Earth's civilization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, all these speculations and "rumors" educe me, and I guess it's up to me to save the planet, again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Pedal to the metal in my Factsmobile, I'm at the Maya station.&lt;br /&gt;Now, first and foremost, let me silence the people who believe that the Maya Long Count Calendar ends on December 21, 2012 -- it doesn't. What does actually occur, is the completion of the 13th &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baktun"&gt;B'ak'tun&lt;/a&gt; cycle. Which, according, to the Mayans, may represent "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a transition from the current Creation world into the next&lt;/span&gt;". Well, mic check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;In this age we are approaching the same count again, only there is a common misconception of the Maya's practice of abbreviating their dates to five &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vigesimal" title="Vigesimal"&gt;vigesimal&lt;/a&gt; places. According to the Maya there will be a baktun ending in 2012, a significant event being the end of the 13th 394 year period, but not the end of the world.&lt;sup id="3_to_n"&gt;&lt;a href="#3_to"&gt; 3 &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next stop, 'The Collision'.&lt;br /&gt;Now, I don't want all the news channels to count the numbers in The Bible and cook up an algorithm that predicts an asteroid collision, as done by the author of '&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Bible_Code"&gt;The Bible Code&lt;/a&gt;', but if you're still betting on the asteroid, 16.6 million miles is as close as you're going to get. According to NASA, some space rock called the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/433_Eros"&gt;four-hundred-something Eros&lt;/a&gt; is going to pass by the blue planet. Which is cool by me, because it does so almost every 846 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, you can cross the collision off the list. 16.6 million miles is definitely a clean pass. But kudos to the author, for pressure cooking the algorithm to predict something on the asteroid line. You were good, but your calculations were just a wee bit off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See now, this one's just plain hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;"The Sun crashing into the Earth", and I cite that from some news channel's headline. Now, you don't need to be well versed with the teachings of astrophysics or any sort of super-sci-fi lingo to tell that stars aren't particularly bright when it comes to locomotion  &lt;sup id="4_to_n"&gt;&lt;a href="#4_to"&gt; 4 &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;. And you definitely do not need to be told that the Sun is a star. Do you see what I'm saying here?&lt;br /&gt;You were taught in 5th grade what Galileo had a hard time explaining -- the Earth moves around the sun, not the other way around. Plus, if the Sun &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; going to collide with the Earth, what would happen to our hot little tykes, Mars and Venus? It's a shame no one ever thought of that.&lt;br /&gt;Another point you should probably note is that if the Sun was ever to undergo such a sudden, massive movement, the entire galaxy's gravitational balance would be disturbed, and such a thing could only be accomplished if the galaxy's gravitational balance would suddenly, and massively, be disturbed. Just a minor Catch-22, here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The apocalypse? I'll take a look in 2040, again&lt;a href="#5_to"&gt;&lt;sup id="5_to_n"&gt; 5 &lt;/sup&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;One more thing -- only Apple product launches are meritorious of such widespread speculation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li id="1_to"&gt;Do I really need to ring it in your ears all over again? &lt;a href="#1_to_n"&gt;^&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li id="2_to"&gt;The "reports" are from some weird guy's dream. Apparently, he sees the world's end, there. He also checks out the calendar in time to find he was sleeping in 2012. &lt;a href="#2_to_n"&gt;^&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li id="3_to"&gt;[&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mesoamerican_Long_Count_calendar#cite_ref-8"&gt;via&lt;/a&gt;] &lt;a href="#3_to_n"&gt;^&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li id="4_to"&gt;They do move, albeit smoothly enough to go unnoticed, or create rampant changes. &lt;a href="#4_to_n"&gt;^&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li id="5_to"&gt;What Newton said. (From an old newspaper report. I can't help but be skeptical about this.) &lt;a href="#5_to_n"&gt;^&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-1806051403861613147?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/1806051403861613147/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/06/to-batmobile.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/1806051403861613147" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/1806051403861613147" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/GKe_VabU5d0/to-batmobile.html" title="To the batmobile!" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/06/to-batmobile.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-1184970595044703651</id><published>2008-06-10T23:19:00.016+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:34:03.336+05:30</updated><title type="text">31 days later</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.apple.com/iphone"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SE7AYKQOqnI/AAAAAAAAAEg/u5LW7ydTk1Y/s400/featurette_3G20080609.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210313340216060530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's it. Mr. Jobs has done it, all over again.&lt;br /&gt;In an ever so spectacular, completely-sold-out, applause-ridden performance, Jobs announced the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;new and improved&lt;/span&gt; iPhone 3G, an upgrade to the OS X, and a candy box of other cool things.&lt;br /&gt;But what's really cool is that the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;new and improved&lt;/span&gt; iPhone 3G will be faster, highly secure on networks, provide more push email clients, contain a GPS receiver, have a shinier back, a flush 3.5mm headphone jack and will offer a scientific calculator!&lt;sup id="1_31_n"&gt;&lt;a href="#1_31"&gt; 1 &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there's just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;one more thing&lt;/span&gt; -- it's going to sell for just $199&lt;sup id="2_31_n"&gt;&lt;a href="#2_31"&gt; 2 &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/sup&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A point to note, here. When Jobs put together the price part, he mentioned it would be a maximum of $199 in almost all of the countries it's going to be shipped to. That's 70 countries worldwide.&lt;br /&gt;Now, going by the current exchange rates, that translates to around just Rs.8,000 in India.&lt;br /&gt;Is that really possible? Eight grand for a piece of technology that is probably more advanced than everything else we know? 8K for a new iPod+phone+hand-held internet browser+gaming device?&lt;br /&gt;It seems highly unlikely, because it's just a little over the edge than the cheapest iPod we have in India. But if the translation is correct, it's is going to murder the competition, in the most literal and brutal sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it was a great show, and at 1.18 gigs, it's pretty heavy, too. Oh, and seemingly, by this rate, we'll be immortal 10 WWDCs later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li id="1_31"&gt;1: That's part of the new iPhone version 2.0. It also includes the much anticipated AppStore, amongst other things.&lt;a href="#1_31_n"&gt;^&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li id="2_31"&gt;2: That's minus the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;now&lt;/span&gt; forced AT&amp;amp;T (or respective) 2-year carrier contract.&lt;a href="#2_31_n"&gt;^&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-1184970595044703651?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/1184970595044703651/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/06/31-days-later.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/1184970595044703651" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/1184970595044703651" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/rut0t0i4fas/31-days-later.html" title="31 days later" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SE7AYKQOqnI/AAAAAAAAAEg/u5LW7ydTk1Y/s72-c/featurette_3G20080609.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/06/31-days-later.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-6972663415705029900</id><published>2008-06-09T18:29:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-06-09T22:25:13.153+05:30</updated><title type="text">Time zones</title><content type="html">Four hours later, the world will be what it has never been. Four hours later, San Fransisco will see the time India already saw. But four hours later, San Fransisco will see something India is yet to have a glimpse of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Four hours later, WWDC is going to kick off, upgrading mobility as we know it -- the iPhone's going to celebrate it's second birthday way before time.&lt;br /&gt;While that's one interesting aspect we are certain will occur, there's precisely 931.2 kilograms of questions waiting to be answered. However, the question that takes up most of the weight revolves around the surprise (rumored, expected) appearance of the 3G iPhone. Apart from that, nobody knows for sure whether OS X is up for an upgrade, either. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;And it's a tight secret as to what Apple might offer as an answer to the Microsoft Surface.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:80%;"&gt;What about the new multi-touch patent we saw?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:75%;"&gt;Any upgrades to the Mini?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:70%;"&gt;New iPods?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:65%;"&gt;An all new turtleneck?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:60%;"&gt;What about the graphics processor?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:55%;"&gt;The speech!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday mornings have never been so enticing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*&lt;a href="http://www.engadget.com/2008/06/09/steve-jobs-keynote-live-from-wwdc-2008/"&gt;Live coverage via Engadget&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-6972663415705029900?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/6972663415705029900/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/06/time-zones.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/6972663415705029900" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/6972663415705029900" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/W71HXvze3qQ/time-zones.html" title="Time zones" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/06/time-zones.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-8444096214117168660</id><published>2008-06-05T15:09:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:34:03.438+05:30</updated><title type="text">School</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SEe0leuvDnI/AAAAAAAAAEY/1q2DejH3AY0/s1600-h/School%27s-over.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SEe0leuvDnI/AAAAAAAAAEY/1q2DejH3AY0/s400/School%27s-over.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208330050074513010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to be afraid of the Boards. I used to be in 12th grade. I used to have fun during class. I used to wear a blue uniform. I used to wear a couple of badges. I used to rap in corridors. I used to draw on my backpack. I used to have mommy-made lunches. I used to doodle on desks. I used to sneak my cellphone to class at times. I used to have secret crushes everyone knew about. I used to get dressed and ready for school in 15 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to be in school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a ronin. At least until I have somewhere to go to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-8444096214117168660?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/8444096214117168660/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/06/school.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/8444096214117168660" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/8444096214117168660" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/5w7z1g8mFJw/school.html" title="School" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SEe0leuvDnI/AAAAAAAAAEY/1q2DejH3AY0/s72-c/School%27s-over.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/06/school.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-1813310160276687594</id><published>2008-05-22T18:47:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-05-23T03:18:42.534+05:30</updated><title type="text">Blood</title><content type="html">There once was a girl who went to bed with dreams in her eyes. There  was a girl who would find herself being a synonym of joy. She would  pick up a few flowers coming home on the way from school. She would  study hard and bring an apple for her teacher.&lt;br /&gt;When she went home, she brought a glow with her. The walls would cheer  up and scream with glee.&lt;p&gt;But one day, there was no scream. Only silence where glee should have  been.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You know what?&lt;br /&gt;I can't write this. It's too freaking painful. It bleeds to know that Aarushi was killed that day. It pierces my mind with a silver bullet  to know that there is a human being alive, on this very planet, who can kill people. It burns my veins to know that there is a police  department that is as dull as a box of hair. It is just plain  disgusting to see that the effing press is...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Police&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright. These guys just blow it.&lt;br /&gt;I don't even need to remind you how "safe" our country already is. And  then there's the NOIDA Police - the absolutely perfect combination of  lethargy and stupidity. These guys operate on a whole new level of  obtuse intelligence. A level so effing advanced, it is scary and disturbing at the same time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anywhere else in the world, the whole area would've been sealed; not a  soul would have been allowed to set foot past the yellow tape. Anyone  noted to be passing that area frequently would automatically find  himself on the list of suspects.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;But these guys have a whole new thing going on; a whole other strategy  in mind. They don't want to seal the area. Oh no. They want everybody  there. They've left doors open to the murder scene. "Go ahead  everybody, tamper with the evidence! You from the press? Go ahead, toy with the blood-soaked mattress!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You want me and countless other people not to tell you how to do your  job? Then do it right. It doesn't take a neurosurgeon to figure out  what to do at the scene of a homicide.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Media&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How dare you? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How dare you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who gave you the right to show blood on air? Who was it? I need to  know because there's an effing censor board for movies and TV that  keeps them from showing anything disturbing. Alright. Forget that. Do  you even know why there's a censor board? It's because real, actual human beings watch those movies and TV shows. When there's a group of  people who decide there are certain things that must not be shown on  TV, it's because they don't people of their nation to pick up things  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;like smoking&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"The Girl's bedroom secrets". Bedroom secrets? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bedroom secrets?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What kind of sick freaks are you? You want to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sell&lt;/span&gt; this story, too?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't know who's monitoring content on your side. I don't know why  you show the kind of explicit material that you do. But what you're  doing is not right. And if this country ever fails to succeed, you  will be responsible.&lt;br /&gt;That's right, IndiaTV. I'm talking to you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And forget monitoring your stupid, effing content. Who on this planet  told you to swarm inside the Talwar's garage? Who told you take a shot  of the blood-ridden walls of that house? Who the eff told you to  broadcast dead people on live TV? I am shocked to see the police  didn't care, but are you guys completely in over your heads? You  really think this will sell? Well, let me tell you. Nobody, and I mean  nobody wants to see the crap you dish out. The last thing we want to&lt;br /&gt;see when someone is killed, is their blood. So next time something  like this happens, just broadcast a minute of silence, okay?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;What's that? You're not going to take my advice? No?&lt;br /&gt;Well, Karma's a bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;As for Aarushi...a minute of silence.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-1813310160276687594?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/1813310160276687594/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/05/blood.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/1813310160276687594" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/1813310160276687594" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/ed7e8VYLoik/blood.html" title="Blood" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/05/blood.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-7668712426267038390</id><published>2008-05-13T00:31:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:34:03.569+05:30</updated><title type="text">Change for a dollar?</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SCiUTY1vfQI/AAAAAAAAADk/532t5i2BoAA/s1600-h/history.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SCiUTY1vfQI/AAAAAAAAADk/532t5i2BoAA/s400/history.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199568830605524226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Nope. It's for free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-7668712426267038390?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/7668712426267038390/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/05/change-for-dollar.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/7668712426267038390" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/7668712426267038390" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/pmW4YCcEEQ8/change-for-dollar.html" title="Change for a dollar?" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SCiUTY1vfQI/AAAAAAAAADk/532t5i2BoAA/s72-c/history.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/05/change-for-dollar.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-5611813982800798836</id><published>2008-05-06T23:37:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-05-12T16:28:01.754+05:30</updated><title type="text">12</title><content type="html">You know what the problem with the Indian education system is?&lt;br /&gt;It swims like a brick in mindless waters.&lt;p&gt;Let me explain with an example, if I may. In fact, let's call it a minor comparison, shall we?&lt;br /&gt;In the USA, there are no standardized school examinations. What you got an A+ for in a particular high school test, might only qualify to be a C- in the same test in another high school. Hence, you are required to give the SAT, which helps colleges determine where you stand, on a leveled plane. Ergo, colleges get to decide whether you're good enough for them or not, because you're getting tested on a national level. That's national, as in everybody in that country and/or everyone who shows up for that aptitude test.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In India, however, numerous ingredients appear to be out of place. At least to me.&lt;br /&gt;They teach you different flavors of pretty much the same thing every year, and test your varying knowledge on whatever you've been taught. Come tenth, and more importantly, twelfth, CBSE (or ICSE, the State) begins to fiddle around and calls in the Board examinations. These tests, unlike their predecessors, are standardized, and pretty much leveled, too. Here, what you get an A for, is not something someone else will get an F for, for doing the same thing in another place.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now, here's the problematic part.&lt;br /&gt;If they've already set a standard, why do they continue to question us to determine which college we're good enough to set foot into? They've already tested our pencil scribbling skills on a national level, so why do they take all the weekends off of April and May to get us to&lt;br /&gt;scribble some more?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Boy, they must really like us. They want our pictures, our signatures, and our fingerprints, too.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Trouble is...we don't like them.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-5611813982800798836?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/5611813982800798836/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/05/12.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/5611813982800798836" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/5611813982800798836" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/Mh0gV15d5x0/12.html" title="12" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/05/12.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-416707622655136370</id><published>2008-04-24T22:07:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-24T22:10:13.727+05:30</updated><title type="text">Troubled times</title><content type="html">I think I've stepped into this small island in the middle of a large, possibly eternal ocean with nothing but a palm tree to cling to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, what was I saying?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My environment has begun to have a highly reactive effect on me. Everything I do, see or hear is constantly monitored and filtered by whatever it took to raise me to seventeen. As a result, I am a silent assassin to mainstream media who doesn't really do his job, but ends up arousing hatred for his foe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The so-called Board exams were over almost a month ago, but if you wear spectacles, you will observe that they still tend to go on, picking up a different name on the way.&lt;br /&gt;Entrance tests almost have me on the edge of my seat, and I'm almost studying, which is troublesome, because this way, I will almost get into college, let alone something in the Indian Ivy League.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, what's really weird is me sitting down to document it on the web.&lt;br /&gt;[you should be studying]&lt;br /&gt;(you should be writing)&lt;br /&gt;{you should try and manage stuff}&lt;br /&gt;•why don't you shut up•&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to sleep&lt;br /&gt;:I don't need you:&lt;br /&gt;//yeah, I hate you, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, this doesn't look right.&lt;br /&gt;Hold on, let me delete this...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-416707622655136370?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/416707622655136370/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/04/troubled-times.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/416707622655136370" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/416707622655136370" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/NjuzA7TaUuM/troubled-times.html" title="Troubled times" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/04/troubled-times.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-9172797517276503957</id><published>2008-04-16T20:02:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:34:03.754+05:30</updated><title type="text">Nothing special here</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SAYWS34pj7I/AAAAAAAAADU/SXuVKB6Iqfs/s1600-h/post.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SAYWS34pj7I/AAAAAAAAADU/SXuVKB6Iqfs/s200/post.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189860134086086578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought it would bring out anarchy and chaos. I thought people would gasp in disbelief, and say "say it ain't so!". I thought people would tell their friends, and their friends would tell their friends, and they would tell their friends to comment on my post and beg me not to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But while I was dreaming, people were busy not paying too much attention to it.&lt;br /&gt;And so, the April Fool's project didn't go as well as planned, with only a minute percentage of the populus daring to check and find that the hoax was a hoax.&lt;br /&gt;However, the '100th post' chunk wasn't a lie. So if you read that earlier and thought it was a mere prank, do spray a little confetti into your surroundings in celebration of my hundredth post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now forget whatever I said above this sentence, and push yourself into today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-9172797517276503957?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/9172797517276503957/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/04/nothing-special-here.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/9172797517276503957" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/9172797517276503957" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/_lsZWT5zeRQ/nothing-special-here.html" title="Nothing special here" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/SAYWS34pj7I/AAAAAAAAADU/SXuVKB6Iqfs/s72-c/post.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/04/nothing-special-here.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-6501639924201022711</id><published>2008-04-01T21:10:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-05-09T14:40:15.407+05:30</updated><title type="text">Toodles</title><content type="html">Hundred is a very special number to people. I know someone who feels  that way. You probably do, too.&lt;br /&gt;And when it comes to typing my hundredth blog post, I can't help but  be part of this tradition.&lt;p&gt;It is a very special day, indeed. Not just because this is my  hundredth blurb, but also because today is the first day after the  completion of school. I am through with their examinations. I am done  with their Boards. We've waved each other a nice goodbye. One that  makes you want to say 'hello' again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyway, since this is the hundredth post, I am forced to treat it with  a little extra importance. And with treating it so, there is an  important announcement I'd like to make.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am not going to blog anymore.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I never knew I'd have to say it so soon, but they've told me that  there is no better time than now.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, adiós muchachas, and adiós muchachos. It has been extremely  prodigious contributing my thoughts to the Internet, where not many  people cared.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Good night everyone, and thank you for coming. This is your host for  the evening, abhas1.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-6501639924201022711?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/6501639924201022711/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/04/toodles.html#comment-form" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/6501639924201022711" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/6501639924201022711" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/NkgoMAQbrxQ/toodles.html" title="Toodles" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/04/toodles.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16857168.post-1312374449992872083</id><published>2008-03-06T16:06:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-09T04:34:03.919+05:30</updated><title type="text">O grammar, where art thou?</title><content type="html">&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/R8_JNhwJfMI/AAAAAAAAAC8/ZFT0t4fpWo4/s1600-h/photo-798619.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/R8_JNhwJfMI/AAAAAAAAAC8/ZFT0t4fpWo4/s320/photo-798619.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5174575731107790018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;Straight out of your daily dose of news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;© abhas sinha&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16857168-1312374449992872083?l=abhas1.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/feeds/1312374449992872083/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/03/o-grammar-where-art-thou.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/1312374449992872083" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16857168/posts/default/1312374449992872083" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AFewHundredWords/~3/i_foIkf9-RI/o-grammar-where-art-thou.html" title="O grammar, where art thou?" /><author><name>abhas1</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824625803239811715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" name="OpenSocialUserId" value="14888603756214687643" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vDJilOZbrq8/R8_JNhwJfMI/AAAAAAAAAC8/ZFT0t4fpWo4/s72-c/photo-798619.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://abhas1.blogspot.com/2008/03/o-grammar-where-art-thou.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>
