<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?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/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;D04MRXs-eCp7ImA9WhRQEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515</id><updated>2011-12-04T13:59:44.550-08:00</updated><category term="Reviews" /><category term="Tag" /><category term="Humor" /><category term="Narrative" /><category term="Fable" /><category term="Reminiscence" /><category term="Fun" /><category term="Procrastination" /><category term="Ruminations" /><category term="Poetic" /><category term="Quotation" /><title>molōN labeY</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/MolonLabey" /><feedburner:info uri="molonlabey" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C08ARno-fyp7ImA9WxZbGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-2116312828056182650</id><published>2008-04-22T13:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-22T15:04:07.457-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-04-22T15:04:07.457-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reminiscence" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Humor" /><title>Baby steps</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When you are kid, everyday you experience something new, a new sensation, a new taste, a new sight, a new smell, a new something that excites you or a new something that exhilarates you. Kids dim-witted they are, would immediately forget all about the new experience that they just had and would go chase a ball or do some stupid thing like that. But I vividly remember some of those experiences and I remember how much it excited me. I tell you even Einstein wouldn't have been so thrilled when he split the atom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I remember once during a pleasant summer evening I was sitting on my mother's lap on our porch, watching people pass by. She gave me a candy and had one herself. She took the plastic candy wrapper from me and started working on something. I was intently watching her make alternating folds on a candy wrapper, and then twisting it more towards one end. She then made the same alternate folds on another wrapper, tied it around the first wrapper where it's twisted and finally released the folds so they create frills. Voila you have a girl doll wearing a skirt and it was so colorful. I say, seeing a doll made right there out of nothing but two candy wrappers was totally wicked. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One of my cousins had apparently discovered the sensations a peppermint can cause and was all too eager to show it to me. He gave me a peppermint and asked me to have it. I liked the taste of mint and it left a sort of cool feeling in my mouth. All this is was very new to me. He then gave me a glass of water and asked me to drink it. I had a sip and felt as if some iceberg just melted in my mouth and was speeding towards my throat. The cold cold water rushed through my throat and left me all shook up. It was just wonderful and I just kept drinking water till I thought my stomach was going to burst open. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was playing with an uncle of mine and he wanted to know if I wanted him to draw something for me. Being a stupid kid that I am, I have always thought drawing a ship would be very hard. I mean it's after all a complex piece of machinery, with several decks, tall chimneys, and huge anchors not to mention its enormous size. Ha let me see him draw all that on this small piece of paper? So I asked him to draw me a ship. Once he was done, I couldn't believe that drawing a ship could be this easy. To top it all, he told me he can make me one with nothing but a paper. I went mad with excitement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192192319176051906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_MNw8-v6hy_w/SA5fZ6YADMI/AAAAAAAAAD8/VDyiLijeFNE/s400/ship.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-2116312828056182650?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/OZVXpbT-QQY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=2116312828056182650&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/2116312828056182650?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/2116312828056182650?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/OZVXpbT-QQY/baby-steps.html" title="Baby steps" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://bp3.blogger.com/_MNw8-v6hy_w/SA5fZ6YADMI/AAAAAAAAAD8/VDyiLijeFNE/s72-c/ship.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2008/04/baby-steps.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQGRn46eip7ImA9WxZbEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-4008992969047211320</id><published>2008-04-15T13:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T14:02:07.012-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-04-15T14:02:07.012-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poetic" /><title>Long lost</title><content type="html">Sensations to ponder about, thoughts to write about&lt;br /&gt;Yet silence is what I accept, without doubt&lt;br /&gt;Time seems to elude me, so is the text&lt;br /&gt;Savor the moment for I may not be braver for the next&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Illusions I have built, so is the sand castle&lt;br /&gt;For ages it felt, all that they did was dazzle&lt;br /&gt;There was no castle, either sand or brick&lt;br /&gt;It was just my mind that played the trick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memories shattered, emotions battered&lt;br /&gt;Mind drifted, thoughts scattered&lt;br /&gt;Unbearable as it may seem, endure them I should&lt;br /&gt;Freedom is all I seek, find it if you could&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be forgotten, my words ignored&lt;br /&gt;Others will fill the place, their presence adored&lt;br /&gt;But thank you, my dear&lt;br /&gt;For everything cheer, including the tear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-4008992969047211320?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/bJYWrUzsNHE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=4008992969047211320&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/4008992969047211320?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/4008992969047211320?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/bJYWrUzsNHE/long-lost.html" title="Long lost" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2008/04/long-lost.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0ECR3gzcCp7ImA9WxZXGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-6724118732050215122</id><published>2008-03-07T17:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T18:01:06.688-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-07T18:01:06.688-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Humor" /><title>Compliments</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The basis for this post is one of Seinfeld's stand-up gags. The argument is that when someone complements the clothes that you wear, they are faithfully complementing that particular article of clothing and absolutely nothing else. So when I say, 'Hey that's a nice shirt you are wearing', &lt;a href="http://moodswings-ok.blogspot.com/2008/02/hmmm.html"&gt;ok&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://selfdestructiverebel.blogspot.com/"&gt;Baliga&lt;/a&gt; says 'oh really. Thank you' and takes pride in them assuming the complement was showered on them rather than the shirt itself. (ok and Baliga no offence :P)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tend to disagree with this hypothesis. It may be so that the shirt in question is absolutely fabulous but it also has to suit the person who is wearing that shirt, for that matter it's true for most pieces of clothing. (unquestionably so for lingerie :D)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how does this particular observation fit into my life? I recently got a brand new Altima coupe and have been receiving complements for it from friends, to office folks, to complete strangers in parking lots. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_MNw8-v6hy_w/R9Hvn_k5CwI/AAAAAAAAADE/RoBanaPzcX0/s1600-h/altima_coupe.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175180917185514242" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_MNw8-v6hy_w/R9Hvn_k5CwI/AAAAAAAAADE/RoBanaPzcX0/s400/altima_coupe.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though it's all nice and sweet, it just doesn't make me all happy and proud. Unlike the clothing argument, my looks are totally immaterial to the fact that I am driving a super sexy car. I have noticed strangers ogling at my car for five straight minutes, look embarrassed when I walk up to the car, complement my car and leave instantly. This makes it all the more worse more so when done by a gorgeous damsel as her untimely disappearance upon my arrival paints a false picture that it's me who makes the car look awful. Sigh!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-6724118732050215122?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/D-cSBvwqlS4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=6724118732050215122&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/6724118732050215122?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/6724118732050215122?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/D-cSBvwqlS4/compliments.html" title="Compliments" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://bp3.blogger.com/_MNw8-v6hy_w/R9Hvn_k5CwI/AAAAAAAAADE/RoBanaPzcX0/s72-c/altima_coupe.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2008/03/compliments.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cCSX4zfip7ImA9WxZQEE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-481759761759142298</id><published>2008-02-14T12:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T13:37:48.086-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-02-14T13:37:48.086-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Quotation" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fun" /><title>You complete me.</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I know it's corny but hey what the hell, that sums it all up and I like it.&lt;/div&gt;Happy Valentine's Day :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-481759761759142298?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/DtUoJhuik_Y" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=481759761759142298&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/481759761759142298?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/481759761759142298?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/DtUoJhuik_Y/you-complete-me.html" title="You complete me." /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2008/02/you-complete-me.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEUNSXs-eyp7ImA9WxZRGEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-7338339391709183675</id><published>2008-02-13T00:31:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T00:44:58.553-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-02-13T00:44:58.553-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Humor" /><title>Office Quips</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;1. When I joined work, we were a fairly small start up. In our company we have a tradition of the new hires being taken out for lunch by the CEO in order to acquaint her with them. Usually the new hires receive a mail from the CEO inviting them for a casual lunch. A new hire, one Mr. V reads this mail for a lunch invitation by our CEO and is extremely shocked. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. V replies:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Ms.CEO,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I appreciate your interest in getting to know me well but you see I am a married man with two children. I cannot do this to my family. I would be grateful if we could drop this idea and not take this any further. &lt;/div&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Mr. V&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CEO replies:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Mr. V,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It's perfectly ok. I too am married with two children ;) &lt;/div&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Ms. CEO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. During an office lunch party:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;New hire: Hi, I am Mr. A &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mr. T: Hi, I am Mr. T &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;New hire: So how long have you been working here? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mr. T: I have been working here for the last 4 years. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;New hire: Wow that's a long time to work for a start up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mr. T: Yes, unfortunately I am the founder so I have to. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;New hire: #@*&amp;amp;# &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Warning: Item 3 is strictly PG-17&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;3. Our company does something called search keyword optimization that is we optimize the revenue generated for keyword when its bid for in search engines. Recently we had an adult content oriented client. I cannot name who the client is since I will be breaching the confidentiality agreements of our company but I can tell you that they are quite famous. I enjoy bragging to my friends that I indirectly work for this company. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Conversation about the performance of this client as you can understand can lead to very awkward situations. Here are some of those priceless moments. I tell you it takes extreme control to keep a straight face and not laugh when someone says&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. &lt;em&gt;Big b00b$&lt;/em&gt; isn't performing well.&lt;br /&gt;b. &lt;em&gt;P0rn&lt;/em&gt; screwed us.&lt;br /&gt;c. Let's take &lt;em&gt;le$bi@n g@ngb@ng&lt;/em&gt; as our case study.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-7338339391709183675?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/a7MWrKIfDps" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=7338339391709183675&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/7338339391709183675?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/7338339391709183675?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/a7MWrKIfDps/office-quips.html" title="Office Quips" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2008/02/office-quips.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIGQno6cCp7ImA9WB9aFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-5098837647986384612</id><published>2008-01-04T15:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T15:48:43.418-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-01-04T15:48:43.418-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reminiscence" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><title>Rains</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Never felt them to be anything special all my life but all that changed today morning. Not that I danced to glory in the rain with bone chilling winds blowing over my body which our scantily clad bollywood heroines seem to enjoy in one of those item numbers or some such stupid thing but a genuine sense of longing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We grown ups are so engrossed in making lives complicated for ourselves that we never really take the time to stop and appreciate the small things. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;How I wish I would be tightly tucked in the bed with some hot chocolate to relish on. That tepid feeling you get under the comforter. That warm feeling which fills you up from the inside when u take a sip of that hot chocolate. That tingling feeling when your palms engulf the hot chocolate mug with the cold air breezing past your fingers. That soft music created by rain droplets which come crashing down from high above. A book to ponder on or a movie to acquire pleasure from, how I wish I was a kid again! Life was so right then.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-5098837647986384612?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/r-Yb9ZSqhDU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=5098837647986384612&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/5098837647986384612?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/5098837647986384612?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/r-Yb9ZSqhDU/rains.html" title="Rains" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2008/01/rains.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIARn4yfyp7ImA9WB9aEkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-285369639068671109</id><published>2008-01-01T09:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T10:02:27.097-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-01-01T10:02:27.097-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fun" /><title>Happy New Year 2008</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="center"&gt;Wish you all a happy, prosperous, eventful and a splendid New Year&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-285369639068671109?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/IkvG6iskd_M" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=285369639068671109&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/285369639068671109?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/285369639068671109?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/IkvG6iskd_M/happy-new-year-2008.html" title="Happy New Year 2008" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-new-year-2008.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQFSH87eip7ImA9WB9UFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-8469951479827893451</id><published>2007-12-14T11:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-14T11:58:39.102-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-12-14T11:58:39.102-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reviews" /><title>iPod Survey</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A friend of mine is doing a research on the marketing strategies of iPod for a course project and wanted me and anyone I know to fill out a short survey. So, please do spend a minute (precisely a minute) of your time to fill the survey below. It doesn't matter if you don't own an iPod as long as you have used a portable mp3 player. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For anyone living,&lt;br /&gt;(i) Outside India, please click &lt;a href="http://www.esurveyspro.com/Survey.aspx?id=05fe9a95-089a-4e05-9358-e67b7fcb1256"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;(ii) Inside India, please click &lt;a href="http://www.esurveyspro.com/Survey.aspx?id=750caa9d-c973-4383-92b2-b46e436d30da"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-8469951479827893451?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/cQvgbzutFcs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=8469951479827893451&amp;isPopup=true" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/8469951479827893451?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/8469951479827893451?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/cQvgbzutFcs/ipod-survey.html" title="iPod Survey" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/12/ipod-survey.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk4EQH47eyp7ImA9WB9UFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-2397470347916124644</id><published>2007-12-11T20:39:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T20:48:21.003-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-12-11T20:48:21.003-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fun" /><title>Know your journey</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Recently during a lunch conversation with my colleagues, the topic of the Genographic project propped up. This particular project aims to map historical human migration over time by collecting DNA samples from various ethnic groups spread around the world. So what's interesting about this project? Well you too can get your family's migration map! For a fee of about $100 you can get either your paternal or your maternal side's migration map. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One of my colleagues had invested quite a bit to know both his paternal and maternal side's migration map. For starters, we all are direct descendants of one human appropriately named "Adam" who lived 60,000 years ago. From then on the journey takes various other routes. His maternal side moved along the coast of Africa, crossed over to the Middle East still along the coast, moved along costal Iran and into costal South Asia until they landed in modern day Tamil Nadu. His paternal side had a longer journey, they moved from Africa, to Europe, to Russia, to Central Asia, to South Asia and finally Tamil Nadu. A sub branch in his paternal side ended up somewhere in the Amazon. Along the way both this maternal and paternal side had provided and gained genetic material from a variety of tribes. It was simply fascinating I say. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;PS: If you wish to get your family's migration map, follow this &lt;a href="https://www3.nationalgeographic.com/genographic/participate.html"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-2397470347916124644?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/Bm3ASW40GkE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=2397470347916124644&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/2397470347916124644?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/2397470347916124644?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/Bm3ASW40GkE/know-your-journey.html" title="Know your journey" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/12/know-your-journey.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8FSHg8eSp7ImA9WB9UEEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-1772680455847420945</id><published>2007-12-07T11:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T11:46:59.671-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-12-07T11:46:59.671-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Quotation" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><title>A Prejudice about Opinions</title><content type="html">Never have an opinion unless you are paid for it…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: This one is original.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-1772680455847420945?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/D4AUU0VO-Io" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=1772680455847420945&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/1772680455847420945?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/1772680455847420945?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/D4AUU0VO-Io/prejudice-and-opinions.html" title="A Prejudice about Opinions" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/12/prejudice-and-opinions.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMGQX86cSp7ImA9WB9WF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-1158251734713455092</id><published>2007-11-22T00:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T01:07:00.119-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-11-22T01:07:00.119-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Quotation" /><title>Complaints</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;"Complaining is good for you as long as you're not complaining to the person you're complaining about"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;- By a friend :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-1158251734713455092?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/9vyYzkpjjjs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=1158251734713455092&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/1158251734713455092?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/1158251734713455092?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/9vyYzkpjjjs/complaints.html" title="Complaints" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/11/complaints.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QNSH84cCp7ImA9WB9WEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-5727046337690195499</id><published>2007-11-15T23:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T00:23:19.138-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-11-16T00:23:19.138-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Procrastination" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reminiscence" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><title>How I ended up doing nothing :(</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;While in India, I wanted to enjoy every moment, talk to my hearts content with family and friends, share a quiet moment with my home, travel on the bus and those share autos, take a long walk, go to the usual grocery store, and do everything just once that reminded me of something special. I didn't have any time to sit down and blog all those wonderful events. The idea was that I would have all the time in the world once I am back. Once I was back, I was home sick, wanted to catch up with friends, reduce my slack in work, and to take it easy for a few weeks. It's been a little more than a month now and I find that the intensity of those feelings has reduced, some incidents totally forgotten, confusion as to where to start and where to end. This is the story of how I wanted to blog some of my most cherished experiences and ended up doing nothing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-5727046337690195499?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/SrIvbPHRyms" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=5727046337690195499&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/5727046337690195499?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/5727046337690195499?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/SrIvbPHRyms/how-i-ended-up-doing-nothing.html" title="How I ended up doing nothing :(" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/11/how-i-ended-up-doing-nothing.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUEHRXg-fSp7ImA9WB9XFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-717399636936730879</id><published>2007-11-08T08:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T10:47:14.655-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-11-08T10:47:14.655-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reminiscence" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Poetic" /><title>Happy Diwali</title><content type="html">May the festival of lights,&lt;br /&gt;Fill your life with endless delights,&lt;br /&gt;Good fortunes and good times,&lt;br /&gt;Be plentiful as your year brightens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish you all a very happy Diwali.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-717399636936730879?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/7D9ajSgRvok" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=717399636936730879&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/717399636936730879?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/717399636936730879?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/7D9ajSgRvok/happy-diwali.html" title="Happy Diwali" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/11/happy-diwali.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4ARXw8fyp7ImA9WB9XE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-1197774386236445036</id><published>2007-11-06T00:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T00:32:24.277-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-11-06T00:32:24.277-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reviews" /><title>My man Bob Dylan</title><content type="html">&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A couple of days back I was out with a colleague for lunch. It was during this twenty five minute trip (finding a parking spot is a nightmare during lunch time) to the restaurant my colleague chose to introduce me to Bob Dylan. I was so drawn into the songs by his lyrics, the soothing effect of his music and his voice to such extent that I wasn't responding to any of my colleague's questions. Fortunately he understood the trance that I was in. I immediately borrowed his CD and have been in a trance ever since. Dylan's lyrics are so simple yet so profound and beautiful which easily makes him the best songwriter I have come across. Keep it coming my man, Bob Dylan.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-1197774386236445036?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/gNqK_40JX7g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=1197774386236445036&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/1197774386236445036?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/1197774386236445036?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/gNqK_40JX7g/my-man-bob-dylan.html" title="My man Bob Dylan" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-man-bob-dylan.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08HQno8fyp7ImA9WB9QEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-5887032180228488086</id><published>2007-10-23T15:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T21:17:13.477-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-10-24T21:17:13.477-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><title>Monkey business</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Recently the deputy mayor for New Delhi was killed by a horde of wild running monkeys. Well apparently he fell to his death from his terrace after trying to evade a group of monkeys who were more than happy to maul him for God knows or rather the monkeys know why. Given the fact that Mr. Bajwa was the Delhi BJP senior vice-president for several years, I assumed that the monkeys would have loved him. Guess I was wrong. Please don't judge me by thinking I am having fun at the expense of a dead person, I am merely pointing out the irony of the situation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Someone who is driven by an ideology that monkeys are sacred, that any interruption to the monkeys' way of life would bring down the wrath of Gods themselves, doesn't mind disturbing their habitat or encroaching their territory, then goes on to do absolutely nothing about it or rather blocks any move to do something about it. I am sad yet relieved it was Mr. Bajwa who had to pay the price for his ideology and inaction, and not some child as in this &lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/6446517.stm"&gt;regrettable incident&lt;/a&gt; from Banglore. So how do we tackle this menace now, bring in bigger monkeys to control the smaller ones. Brilliant!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-5887032180228488086?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/4pEgmIXZpns" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=5887032180228488086&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/5887032180228488086?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/5887032180228488086?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/4pEgmIXZpns/monkey-business.html" title="Monkey business" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/10/monkey-business.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQGSX8-cCp7ImA9WB9RGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-156155987235675527</id><published>2007-10-19T21:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T21:25:28.158-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-10-19T21:25:28.158-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><title>Low. Sigh!</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Being in India for three months after three years has its own pluses and minuses. Yummy food, loads of attention, time with family and friends, the excitement in being home, nostalgic memories; most yearned for, and the list goes on endlessly. The greatest downside to it all is home sickness. The wretched feeling that all those goodies were short lived and the fact that your home is on the other side of the planet doesn't help one bit. I know I may be too old for it, but heck yea, I am home sick. What makes it even more miserable is there is no one around to cheer me up. Sigh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-156155987235675527?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/Ni4ERm6U5nU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=156155987235675527&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/156155987235675527?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/156155987235675527?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/Ni4ERm6U5nU/low-sigh.html" title="Low. Sigh!" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/10/low-sigh.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYFQnkzeip7ImA9WB9RF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-8179524609404318035</id><published>2007-10-18T13:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-18T15:55:13.782-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-10-18T15:55:13.782-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reviews" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reminiscence" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><title>Old West German TV Series</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Some of my most cherished memories of Doordarshan (DD) from childhood to early teens were those of the West German TV series produced by Transtel and Cologne. I was a great fan of all of them and I still am. These series were usually dubbed in English and were played on DD1 and DD2, long before onslaught of cable and now satellite television. They had a certain charm to them, which captivated me, held me glued to the TV set and finally left me with a feeling of euphoria that lingered on… Yes, I am taking about TV series. I experienced a certain bonding with the characters and overtime it felt as if they were my good friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to Jetix, a rerun of "Didi's comedy show" brought back a flood of all those sweet memories. I vividly remember those animated discussions we had in school about didi's antics, how I used to roll on the floor and laugh at something that Didi did or said and how much my stomach would hurt from all the laughing. This time around at home, I was watching the same with father. Jetix had the show dubbed in Tamil which if anything made it even more hilarious not in an oddball kind of way, but in exactly the same way as a good comedian would perform. The best part of it all was watching it with father. It's sometimes astonishing to see how grown up adults, myself and father, could laugh our hearts out at a TV show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Derrick was another series that I was really crazy about. It was set in Munich where two police detectives, Stephan Derrick and Harry Klein, would systematically solve murder cases by the sole power of their reasoning alone. Stephan Derrick played by Horst Tappert had a commanding screen presence and I still remember how calm and composed he was through out the entire series, how he would cross-examine and probe inconsistencies and finally how he would break the accused down, that in most cases they usually end up confessing to the crime. Later years when I had the opportunity to watch more such investigative TV series or movies, what struck me most was unlike others, Derrick didn't have any violence involved, no knives, no guns, and no blood, just Derrick's pure brilliance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Der Fahnder or The Investigator as its called in its English version was another favorite of mine. Faber played by Klaus Wennemann plays the lead role in the series. This was another police investigative series that is fast paced, exciting, intense, riveting, exhilarating and what not. Faber is young, dynamic, impatient police detective always on the look out for action. Well yea, as a kid I sort of wanted to be like him. It's not just the action that made it appealing to me but Faber's brilliant investigative methods, his personality, the friendly nature of the other characters and a sort of attachment you feel with Faber and his family. The title music was one of the best I have heard for any TV series so far. Derrick and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Der Fahnder both were sixty minute episodes with a murder, investigation and a conclusion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Telematch contains a series of games that were played between two little German towns. I loved the series since they always came up with very interesting games to play. I also remember I generally had no penchant towards any of the teams. I would usually support the one that's having the highest points on the board and hence my support would vary several times during a single match.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grew with these series and thinking about them engulfs me with a feeling of nostalgia. How I wish I could be a kid again. The feeling of watching one of these series while being papered by mom, well what can I say, is just priceless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: I just googled for Klaus Wennemann and found that he left us on 7&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; January 2000. He will be sorely missed.  &lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-8179524609404318035?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/m-ssPyF4boM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=8179524609404318035&amp;isPopup=true" title="14 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/8179524609404318035?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/8179524609404318035?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/m-ssPyF4boM/old-west-german-tv-series.html" title="Old West German TV Series" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>14</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/10/old-west-german-tv-series.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQNRHozfCp7ImA9WB9SEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-3867854588257074443</id><published>2007-09-29T11:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T11:59:55.484-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-09-29T11:59:55.484-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><title>Mom :)</title><content type="html">In spite of an absolute lack of time, I just couldn't resist posting this. Mom, this is so very true. Nobody even comes close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_MNw8-v6hy_w/Rv6fQLEuFZI/AAAAAAAAACc/Slq3qd4EkCQ/s1600-h/Calvin.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 395px; height: 284px;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_MNw8-v6hy_w/Rv6fQLEuFZI/AAAAAAAAACc/Slq3qd4EkCQ/s400/Calvin.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115701326938772882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: I am sorry to have kept you folks waiting but you've got to bear with me for a few more days :-(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-3867854588257074443?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/V9E3BBZEAN0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=3867854588257074443&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/3867854588257074443?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/3867854588257074443?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/V9E3BBZEAN0/mom.html" title="Mom :)" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://bp2.blogger.com/_MNw8-v6hy_w/Rv6fQLEuFZI/AAAAAAAAACc/Slq3qd4EkCQ/s72-c/Calvin.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/09/mom.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEAFSH86eCp7ImA9WB5UEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-3850685544375774258</id><published>2007-08-16T01:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T02:31:59.110-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-08-16T02:31:59.110-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><title>Vacation and work</title><content type="html">&lt;p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Its been quite sometime since I posted anything here. I am on vacation in Madras but the relentless call of work cannot be ignored, still I try. So much to write about, father, mother, brother, friends, madras so on and so forth. With closed eyes and a deep breath, I am taking it all in and it simply overwhelms me. Three years has been far too long to be away from home. I should be posting quite a few new entries but don't know when, hopefully sooner than later.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-3850685544375774258?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/yBq4l3irsmQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=3850685544375774258&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/3850685544375774258?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/3850685544375774258?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/yBq4l3irsmQ/vacation-and-work.html" title="Vacation and work" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/08/vacation-and-work.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0ACSXw6eyp7ImA9WB5WGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-4296760761449235761</id><published>2007-07-30T10:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T10:16:08.213-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-07-30T10:16:08.213-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Humor" /><title>Beware!</title><content type="html">&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Trespassers will be shot.&lt;br /&gt;Survivors will be shot again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;PS: Happened to see this warning sign outside someone's property.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-4296760761449235761?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/F8vjRipprhM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=4296760761449235761&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/4296760761449235761?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/4296760761449235761?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/F8vjRipprhM/beware.html" title="Beware!" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>8</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/07/beware.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkENSHw9eSp7ImA9WB5WFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-5079051962656043642</id><published>2007-07-26T17:38:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-27T00:18:19.261-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-07-27T00:18:19.261-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reminiscence" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Humor" /><title>Atrocious teachers’ talk</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Some of the unforgettable memories that I have in my life are those of high school, made even more memorable by a few of my lovely teachers. The first thing that comes to my mind when I think about them is the way they talk in the class, with their comical pronunciation, made up grammar, bizarre rhymes all of which discordantly come together to make up what I call the atrocious teachers' talk. I was never able to completely master this talk as a result of which many a times, I have found myself absolutely dazed and confused.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Listed below are few of those hilarious moments, few of which happened to me, a few to my friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;1. We had an amazing French teacher who was from Karaikal, formerly a French colony. His teachers' talk was so atrocious that we decided it's in our best interest if he speaks French all the time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"French teacher: See outside. Sun very very hawt. If you talk I kneel down"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;2. The geography teacher of my friend feels it's such a herculean task to remember the names of everyone in the class, so he remembers only a few. Wonder how he calls out others in the class?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;"Geography teacher: Ramarathnam bai, back bench bai, diagonally across bai, stand up da.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Wrong boy: Me saar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Geography teacher: No you worthless donkey, the other diagonal bai. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;3. Announcement made by our class teacher to bring our parents to the PTA meeting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;"Class teacher: Bring all your mummies and daddies to the PTA meeting tomorrow. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;4. My science teacher takes pride in talking in rhymes. Most of them were amusing but I could only recollect this one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;"Science teacher (spoken as if he was holding his breath and in a rhyming tone):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;If you don't bring your notes on Monday,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will break your mandai. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;5. This happened to my friend SR when his physics teacher was quizzing the class.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;"Physics teacher: SR, what is the SI unit of pressure?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SR: Err… Pascal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Physics teacher (in a barking voice): SR! Why did you call me rascal? "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;6. Most students do not prefer to come to school on a sports day unless they are participating in some event. Invariably this makes our PT teacher mad. He barges into every class and the first thing he howls is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;"PT teacher: All of you who are absent stand up."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;7. &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;"Math teacher (barking voice): Stannnd up mann. Yyyy are u laughing. Wooopen urr mouth and give me an answer u bloody beggar. Waaaat are u having in ur mouth. Wooopen ur damn mouth u bloody beggar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Class mate (tries to open his mouth): Saaa…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Math teacher (barking voice): Shhut ur mouth u bloody beggar! Did I ask you to woopen ur mouth. Wooopen ur mouth wen I ask u toooo. Tell me you bloody beggar, yyyy arr u laughing in the class… (Goes on and on…)"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;This goes on for a few rounds, at the end of which who ever it is at the receiving end would have undergone some serious psychological damage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-5079051962656043642?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/g-W42djPRKo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=5079051962656043642&amp;isPopup=true" title="9 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/5079051962656043642?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/5079051962656043642?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/g-W42djPRKo/atrocious-teachers-talk.html" title="Atrocious teachers’ talk" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>9</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/07/atrocious-teachers-talk.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0EFQn8zcCp7ImA9WB5XEUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-7955209349756308832</id><published>2007-07-11T14:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-11T14:33:33.188-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-07-11T14:33:33.188-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><title>Wonder why</title><content type="html">&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;It hurts so much&lt;br /&gt;when you lose something&lt;br /&gt;that was never really yours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-7955209349756308832?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/NAghjQF48Ng" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=7955209349756308832&amp;isPopup=true" title="14 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/7955209349756308832?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/7955209349756308832?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/NAghjQF48Ng/wonder-why.html" title="Wonder why" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>14</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/07/wonder-why.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEEDSX86fyp7ImA9WB5QF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-6369404191020622735</id><published>2007-07-06T18:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T18:44:38.117-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-07-06T18:44:38.117-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Humor" /><title>Condescending job requirement</title><content type="html">Saw this in the career section for a network software engineer position.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Proficient in keyboarding and mousing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-6369404191020622735?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/swRY8kEc-HA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=6369404191020622735&amp;isPopup=true" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/6369404191020622735?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/6369404191020622735?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/swRY8kEc-HA/condescending-job-requirement.html" title="Condescending job requirement" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/07/condescending-job-requirement.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8GR3o6cSp7ImA9WB5QFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-6351933102078505413</id><published>2007-07-02T16:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-02T17:00:26.419-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-07-02T17:00:26.419-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Reminiscence" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Tag" /><title>Tag – Random Facts</title><content type="html">&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;This has been due for quite sometime now. I was &lt;a href="http://moodswings-ok.blogspot.com/2007/06/first-tag.html"&gt;tagged&lt;/a&gt; by &lt;a href="http://moodswings-ok.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ok&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Here are the rules.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;1. Players start with 8 random facts about themselves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;2. Those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 random facts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;3. Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Here I go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;1. I have always wanted to skydive, bungee jump and BASE jump at least once.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;But there is always this fear that the parachute won't open up, the chord will snap and I will have a dozen lawsuits against me for illegal BASE jumping. I guess I will garner enough courage to do them someday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;2. I love my sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;I have been called 'sleeping beauty', 'bear in hibernation', 'sleepy head' and a whole bunch of others. I can sleep for twenty hours straight with all lights turned on, the music system blaring heavy metal and/or the room temperature being a 110 degrees Fahrenheit and still have no trouble falling asleep an hour later. In my dreams, I have made up entire movies and even dreamt of blogging about one of the characters in it. I also carry a notorious reputation of falling asleep in every class while sitting in the front row. (It's not my fault; it's the professor's fault)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;3. I cannot hide my emotions. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Be it playful, funny, caring, loving, serious or angry. I have gotten myself into a fair share of trouble with the angry ones. More often with close friends as I take the liberty to express my raw emotions which at times doesn't down all too well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;4. Sometimes I tend to do things even number of times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Things like closing the door, checking the lock, zipping the bag and so on. A few of my friends think I have obsessive compulsive disorder but frankly I think it's not that serious.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;5. I've never had a drink.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;I might try it once just for the heck of it but I don't see myself becoming a social drinker. Within the civilized world this is considered something abnormal. I am uncivilized.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;6. I notice how people walk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;I know it's weird. But the first thing I notice about people is how they walk. It's my way of remembering them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;7.  I like to cook.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;I do. After being away from home for a long time, I have learnt to appreciate well cooked home food and relish those rare moments when I do have one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;8. I adore kids.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;I am usually good with them too. I could play with them all day and still not be bored or tired one bit. But most of all, for the happiness it brings and the bliss of forgetting the world around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;I have to break rule 3 by tagging only two bloggers,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;a href="http://fireofcelebration.blogspot.com/"&gt;Divine Ravana&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;a href="http://go-incognito.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ju&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-6351933102078505413?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/A1u97EkzDA8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=6351933102078505413&amp;isPopup=true" title="9 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/6351933102078505413?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/6351933102078505413?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/A1u97EkzDA8/tag-random-facts.html" title="Tag – Random Facts" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>9</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/07/tag-random-facts.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQDSH89fSp7ImA9WB5QEUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5907389034803535515.post-3527327749757935883</id><published>2007-06-27T14:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-30T02:06:19.165-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-06-30T02:06:19.165-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ruminations" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Narrative" /><title>"We are ready to die, we are soldiers."</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Never can I really understand the reason why countries, factions or people go to war. What is it that they are fighting for, that they are more than willing and believe they have the right to take the lives of others? The losses are so colossal that it doesn't justify any rationale behind people raging to engage in war. I do not want to go into the depths of explaining why war is wrong because for one I am not the right person and two even if I did, the complexities involved are so enormous that this post will do no justice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Having said that, I have great respect for soldiers and what they do. To whole heartedly give up ones life so that someone else can peacefully live his or hers, is the noblest thing any one can do. Its one thing to give up your life trying to protect yourself and your family, another thing trying to protect your countrymen but it's completely something else to willingly put your life on the line to protect someone else with whom you share absolutely no affinity be it cultural, genetic, geographical or emotional.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;I was reading a &lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/this_world/6223246.stm"&gt;BBC news article&lt;/a&gt; on a group of all female UN peace keeping force from India to Liberia. At the end of the article was this quote by one of the soldiers, &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;"We are ready to die, we are soldiers."&lt;/span&gt;. This particular quote had an immediate impact on me for the simply reason that I cannot ever imagine saying this myself. When I tried, it sent a chill down my spine and set into motion different trains of thought.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span xmlns=""&gt;Having a family of her own, wouldn't she want to watch her kids' grow up, share her life with her husband, care for her parents and siblings, enjoy all the lovely things life has to offer? How is her life any different than ours? Yet there she is fighting someone else's war, not knowing if she will come out alive the next day. God forbid, if she doesn't, then what, a simple funeral, a short eulogy, remembered only by family, a few friends and forgotten by the rest of the world. Even though she may not be fighting for a cause, glory, idea, freedom, respect or fame, she is my true hero.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5907389034803535515-3527327749757935883?l=molon-labey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/MolonLabey/~4/uMuX_gqPkoc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5907389034803535515&amp;postID=3527327749757935883&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/3527327749757935883?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5907389034803535515/posts/default/3527327749757935883?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/MolonLabey/~3/uMuX_gqPkoc/we-are-ready-to-die-we-are-soldiers.html" title="&quot;We are ready to die, we are soldiers.&quot;" /><author><name>leoNYdas</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09539126200941708600</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://molon-labey.blogspot.com/2007/06/we-are-ready-to-die-we-are-soldiers.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

