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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/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;AkYGQH46eip7ImA9WhRRFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793</id><updated>2011-11-27T18:55:21.012-05:00</updated><category term="Dharamshala" /><category term="NagarahoLe" /><category term="YHAI" /><category term="purnamadah" /><category term="mysore road" /><category term="Five Point Someone" /><category term="samadhi" /><category term="scrapbook" /><category term="birthplace" /><category term="kannada gaade" /><category term="implicit bargain" /><category term="fall colours" /><category term="bathing" /><category term="sangama" /><category term="allegany state park" /><category term="omnipotent Google" /><category term="Delhi" /><category term="Himalayas" /><category term="River Tern Lodge" /><category term="Khajjiar" /><category term="Idea" /><category term="Pathankot" /><category term="&quot;It Happened in India&quot;" /><category term="NY" /><category term="trek" /><category term="Muddenahalli" /><category term="kaveri" /><category term="bangalore" /><category term="eternal question" /><category term="Bhadra Wildlife sanctuary" /><category term="travel" /><category term="mekedaatu" /><category term="memories" /><category term="knowlegde or the lack of it" /><category term="Bharat Ratna" /><category term="Project 2" /><category term="tame" /><category term="Karnataka" /><category term="tusker" /><category term="&quot;Dipayan Baishya&quot;" /><category term="preadult" /><category term="expectation of non-coinciding opinon" /><category term="Dalhousie Winter Trekking Expedition 2006-2007" /><category term="Buffalo" /><category term="Himachal Pradesh" /><category term="snow capped mountain" /><category term="SpiceJet" /><category term="autobiography" /><category term="Kalatop" /><category term="scenary" /><category term="Rajiv Gandhi National Park" /><category term="NICE road" /><category term="whacky stuff" /><category term="Facebook" /><category term="confluence" /><category term="The Search - How Google and Its Rivals Rewrote the Rules of Business and Transformed Our Culture" /><category term="choose your delusion" /><category term="j.battelle" /><category term="indian elephant" /><category term="Chickballapur" /><category term="Tarikere" /><category term="Chamba" /><category term="trust factor" /><category term="cells" /><category term="1942 A Love Story" /><category term="February 2007" /><category term="the second time" /><category term="omniscient google" /><category term="Photography" /><category term="concerns" /><category term="Toastmasters" /><category term="U.G. Krishnamurti" /><category term="nature's bounty" /><category term="arkavati" /><category term="Competent Communicator" /><category term="UG" /><category term="Completeness" /><category term="gaadegaLu" /><category term="slumdog millionaire" /><category term="Ice breaker speech" /><category term="Agara lake" /><category term="Sir Mokshagundam Vishweshwaraiah" /><category term="Youth Hostel Association of India" /><category term="Niagara River" /><category term="Symbols" /><category term="advise" /><category term="Engineering college days" /><category term="&quot;Kishore Biyani&quot;" /><category term="elephant camp" /><category term="BMIC" /><category term="popular" /><category term="Bhadra Wildlife Reserve" /><category term="teenager" /><category term="Allentown Art Festival" /><category term="Ishavaya Upanishad" /><category term="kanakpura" /><title>Expressions</title><subtitle type="html">The unspoken words of an ambivert</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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>58</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/blogspot/QBjFS" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/qbjfs" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkAARHgzcSp7ImA9WhdWF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-1313943763350404811</id><published>2011-08-12T23:02:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T01:59:05.689-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-11T01:59:05.689-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Symbols" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Toastmasters" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Project 2" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Competent Communicator" /><title>Symbols</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/B7WFHCr90bZftehAtlaqy18WJtk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/B7WFHCr90bZftehAtlaqy18WJtk/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/B7WFHCr90bZftehAtlaqy18WJtk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/B7WFHCr90bZftehAtlaqy18WJtk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.smilablog.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/namaste-239x300.gif"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.smilablog.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/namaste-239x300.gif" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 300px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 239px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
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Namaste. This little ritualistic gesture is a common Indian greeting. It’s a respectful gesture symbolizing the thought “I bow to the lord within you”.
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Madam Toastmaster, fellow toastmasters and guests,
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Today I’d like to share with you some thoughts about the power and meaning of symbols in our lives.
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I recently read an interview of a well-traveled, highly educated man of science who filled his house with symbols from various cultures and followed some highly traditional rituals.  He explained “Rituals give good anchoring. Never underestimate the power of symbols in your life.”
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I think that's true. A symbol is a very concise representation of a set of ideas. A ritual is a sequence of actions which are performed for their symbolic value. These actions are in no way arbitrary.
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Our lives are shaped by symbols and simple rituals - be it personal, traditional or religious.
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Let's examine some common symbols.
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&lt;a href="http://arttalkers.files.wordpress.com/2008/10/toastmasters-white1.gif"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://arttalkers.files.wordpress.com/2008/10/toastmasters-white1.gif" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 157px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 160px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;They say a picture is worth a thousand words. What does this symbol convey to you?
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The Toastmasters emblem.
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To me, this represents having fun with you guys here at EMC on Thursday afternoons.
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This bumper sticker has left an impression on me.
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&lt;a href="http://www.incrediblemiracles.com/_IMAGES/coexist.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.incrediblemiracles.com/_IMAGES/coexist.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 360px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Notice how it is made up of many religious symbols, each of which have their own unique meanings. Put together in this creative manner, they form the word "COEXIST". I interpret this to be symbolic of "Each religion paves a different path to the same end". Or, as a simple directive to "Live and let live".
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Here is an Indian symbol of good luck : the Swastika.
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&lt;a href="http://fugato.net/wp-content/swastika.png"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://fugato.net/wp-content/swastika.png" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 125px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 122px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
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You’ll see this painted on the walls of most shops and enterprises in India. People use this symbol to brand various items to increase their good luck. It is a positive symbol.
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A slight variation of this symbol has the exact opposite effect.
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&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.truthcontrol.com/files/truthcontrol/images/1440.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.truthcontrol.com/files/truthcontrol/images/1440.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 125px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 158px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
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The Nazi Swastika evokes strong negative emotions in all of us.
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How about this?
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&lt;a href="http://www.clker.com/cliparts/8/c/b/f/1197434308818557515Anonymous_pirate_flag_-_Jack_Rackham.svg.hi.png"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.clker.com/cliparts/8/c/b/f/1197434308818557515Anonymous_pirate_flag_-_Jack_Rackham.svg.hi.png" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 250px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
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The picture screams “pirate”! :)
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On a cheery note, let's look at Amazon's smiley logo.
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&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2c8LlGg7dHk/TbtpHJlVHGI/AAAAAAAAAaU/6_6jlnqDQao/s1600/amazon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="1" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2c8LlGg7dHk/TbtpHJlVHGI/AAAAAAAAAaU/6_6jlnqDQao/s1600/amazon.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 250px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Through its simple logo, Amazon conveys its motto : Do business with Amazon and we'll make you smile with satisfaction.
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Symbols need not be only 2-dimensional. 3D symbols are used in most classical forms of dance and in sign language. Other areas where symbols are widely used include traffic signs,  alphabets in the script of any language and mathematics.
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Symbols are an essential part of technology as well. We use them everyday in our PCs and iPhones as icons.&lt;iphone apps=""&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.iphonebuzz.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/cydia_installer.png"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.iphonebuzz.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/cydia_installer.png" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/iphone&gt;I don’t think I could live without my iPhone and the 20-odd apps that I use daily.&lt;iphone apps=""&gt; I LIKE this !!
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://lasemillablog.files.wordpress.com/2010/09/like-button1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://lasemillablog.files.wordpress.com/2010/09/like-button1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 250px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;All Facebook users know how frequently this symbol is used. 'LIKE' is used to communicate a whole spectrum of emotions such as  "I love it!", "I agree" and "You have my support". I have even noticed people "LIKE'-ing obituary messages.
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&lt;/iphone&gt;Rituals use symbols to reinforce ideas. Rituals may be performed on  specific occasions or at the discretion of individuals. You may have an  exclusive ritualistic way of greeting certain people – a handshake, a  hug, a kiss, a verbal greeting or even calling out an insult as a way of  greeting someone you’re very close to.
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&lt;iphone apps=""&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;Here are some symbols that I grew up with.
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://coolemailforwards.com/pictures/Rangol_329_rang5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://coolemailforwards.com/pictures/Rangol_329_rang5.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;The Rangoli is a traditional art form in India and is part of a daily morning ritual in most South Indian households. People wash their doorsteps and paint these patterns in front of their door as a way to ward off evil spirits and bring good luck.
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://spiritualdove.com/45b7e680.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" src="http://spiritualdove.com/45b7e680.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; text-align: center;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;According to Kundalini yoga, the seven yoga chakras represent the different states of consciousness / energy-levels. Each energy center is activated by performing certain routines (rituals). The goal is to gradually raise your awareness from the lowest chakra to the highest chakra leading to spiritual enlightenment.
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&lt;/iphone&gt;Please take a moment to reflect  on the simple rituals that you follow in your life. Every culture has its own set of unique symbols and some of us have  developed our own personal ones. I’d love to hear about the symbols and  rituals that hold meaning to you. Please share your thoughts with me.&lt;iphone apps=""&gt;
&lt;/iphone&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-1313943763350404811?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/81Fq1DYNICc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/1313943763350404811/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=1313943763350404811" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1313943763350404811?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1313943763350404811?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/81Fq1DYNICc/namaste.html" title="Symbols" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2c8LlGg7dHk/TbtpHJlVHGI/AAAAAAAAAaU/6_6jlnqDQao/s72-c/amazon.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2011/08/namaste.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8FSXc7eip7ImA9WhZbEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-1895981972699490083</id><published>2011-06-16T23:50:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-17T01:16:58.902-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-17T01:16:58.902-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ice breaker speech" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Toastmasters" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Idea" /><title>I have an idea</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NGbeujSNq1ui6oyO69cQHe_KhJM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NGbeujSNq1ui6oyO69cQHe_KhJM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NGbeujSNq1ui6oyO69cQHe_KhJM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NGbeujSNq1ui6oyO69cQHe_KhJM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;What's the most resilient parasite? An idea! A single idea from the human mind can build cities. An idea can transform the world and rewrite all the rules... which is why I have to steal it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;- Leonardo di Caprio's lines from the movie Inception. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I feel an infectious, unbridled enthusiasm when my mind gets around any new idea. Therefore I'm constantly looking out for new experiences. This was my primary motivation to join our Toastmasters club as well. However, I was desperate for ideas for my ice breaker speech and looked to the Toastmasters Competent Communicator guide for suggestions. I found a bunch of topics, but was unwilling to speak about them since I found them mundane and uninteresting, personally.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;One line caught my attention though ... "Speech ideas can appear suddenly and disappear just as quickly. Keep a pen and paper or handheld computer handy to note it immediately". I had none of these implements at hand. However this set me thinking tangentially about ideas themselves, and I couldn't help making the connection with the movie and the many long, memorable, intense, thought-provoking conversations that had ensued. There! I had the topic of my speech. I decided to present some ideas that I found very interesting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I've discovered that TED talks are very interesting sources for ideas. Invited speakers share their ideas about diverse topics under one roof. As a nonprofit organization, TED is devoted to "Ideas Worth Sharing". I think that's an ambitious tagline and TED is doing an impressive job of living up to it! Apart from the official TED conferences, TEDx conferences are organized by independent bodies, in the same spirit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Someone recently shared a TEDX video of Dr. Devdutt Pattanaik on Facebook and I was inspired by his passion. Though he's a physician by education, Dr. Pattanaik has been a management consultant and is passionate about Indian Mythology. Subsequently, I picked up one of his books on Indian Mythology from the town library and devoured its contents in an marathon reading session, without a precedent in recent times. I was spellbound by the depth of his knowledge and immensely entertained by his narrative.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;By the power of his ideas, Dr. Pattanaik has turned his passion into his profession. He brings the wisdom of Indian mythology into Indian business, especially in human resource management. I was thrilled to learn of his title at the Futures Group, one of India's largest retailers. The story goes that the founder of the Futures Group, Kishore Biyani, approached him once after one of his talks and offered him any designation he wanted within the company. And, Dr. Pattanaik chose &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Chief Belief Officer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;How does one generate good ideas? I read that the Japanese inventor Dr. Yoshiro Nakamatsu has an interesting technique. He dives in his private pool and holds his breath underwater until he experiences a flash of creativity and comes up with a new idea. He then makes a quick note of it on a waterproof plexiglass pad, which he invented for himself for just this purpose. This octagenarian credits this ritualistic, oft-repeated, near-death experience as the source of ideas for his inventions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;While still researching ideas for my speech, I spoke to my mother and bounced some of these ideas off of her. She connected this breath-control technique to the well known yoga technique called Kapalabhati Pranayama. The word kapalabhati is made up of two words : &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;kapala&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt; refers to the skull (including brain) and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;bhati&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt; means shining or illuminating. Due to this process, the organs under the skull, mainly the brain, are influenced in a positive manner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Talk of positive outcomes made way for stories of my grandmother. I believe my grandmother was convinced of the power of prayer through some remarkable events in her own life. In any difficult situation, she prayed frequently and fervently for good ideas to be implanted in her mind and in the minds of her loved ones, to guide them out of their troubles. Being a little tongue-in-cheek, I'd say my grandmother resorted to prayer for 'Inception'! ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Come Toastmasters time, I felt rewarded for all my efforts in research and practice. Score! :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-1895981972699490083?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/oUT166dwtdM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/1895981972699490083/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=1895981972699490083" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1895981972699490083?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1895981972699490083?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/oUT166dwtdM/i-have-idea.html" title="I have an idea" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-have-idea.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MCQH84fyp7ImA9WhZUEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-6292815881627924942</id><published>2011-06-03T01:35:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-03T01:37:41.137-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-03T01:37:41.137-04:00</app:edited><title>Transience</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UtxRHtiPoSJGqNbMmfAbiL8gRMA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UtxRHtiPoSJGqNbMmfAbiL8gRMA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UtxRHtiPoSJGqNbMmfAbiL8gRMA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/UtxRHtiPoSJGqNbMmfAbiL8gRMA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Aate hain log, jaate hain log, paani mein jaise rele&lt;br /&gt;Jaane ke baad, aate hain yaad, guzre hue vo mele&lt;br /&gt;Yaadein bana rahi hai, yaadein mita rahi hai&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just can't get over this feeling of transience today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-6292815881627924942?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/iI8ExJvkit0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/6292815881627924942/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=6292815881627924942" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/6292815881627924942?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/6292815881627924942?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/iI8ExJvkit0/transience.html" title="Transience" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2011/06/transience.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0MEQnw9fyp7ImA9Wx9WFUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-261609823561346902</id><published>2011-01-20T22:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-20T22:43:23.267-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-20T22:43:23.267-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="scrapbook" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Facebook" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="memories" /><title>Create printable scrapbook from photos uploaded on Facebook</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GxyGvBT4u_OuE7Z77W1ZAKXrbxA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GxyGvBT4u_OuE7Z77W1ZAKXrbxA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GxyGvBT4u_OuE7Z77W1ZAKXrbxA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GxyGvBT4u_OuE7Z77W1ZAKXrbxA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Would be nice if Facebook lets me choose pictures from mine and my friends' profiles and create a printable scrapbook / PDF which includes the picture, the likes and the comments. Will be a nice way to preserve memories when I want to delete an old picture from my profile, or compile memories using photos from multiple sources.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-261609823561346902?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/19_QANO_C8o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/261609823561346902/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=261609823561346902" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/261609823561346902?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/261609823561346902?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/19_QANO_C8o/create-printable-scrapbook-from-photos.html" title="Create printable scrapbook from photos uploaded on Facebook" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2011/01/create-printable-scrapbook-from-photos.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkYGSHY9eSp7ImA9Wx9SFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-1668618358412745832</id><published>2010-12-06T11:46:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T11:48:49.861-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-06T11:48:49.861-05:00</app:edited><title>Amor fati</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hVWg1VmwGPnckpfM6VLIQfbqSxk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hVWg1VmwGPnckpfM6VLIQfbqSxk/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hVWg1VmwGPnckpfM6VLIQfbqSxk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hVWg1VmwGPnckpfM6VLIQfbqSxk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-1668618358412745832?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/Ek6dO8W1azs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/1668618358412745832/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=1668618358412745832" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1668618358412745832?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1668618358412745832?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/Ek6dO8W1azs/amor-fati.html" title="Amor fati" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2010/12/amor-fati.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EARnw_eyp7ImA9WxJSFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-5643321938748076559</id><published>2009-05-04T15:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T15:34:07.243-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-04T15:34:07.243-04:00</app:edited><title>Random Thought #1</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sLq7F7rx8fp-8NNYgjLqrtU8Im0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sLq7F7rx8fp-8NNYgjLqrtU8Im0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sLq7F7rx8fp-8NNYgjLqrtU8Im0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sLq7F7rx8fp-8NNYgjLqrtU8Im0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Was reading an article about how the next gen of hydel power is going to be from oceanic waves. Set me thinking...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How about attaching turbines to generate energy from waves to all ocean going vessels - submarines and ships? If nothing else, at the very least, it should be possible to generate enough energy to sustain all activity on the vessel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-5643321938748076559?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/Fen708eU9Iw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/5643321938748076559/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=5643321938748076559" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/5643321938748076559?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/5643321938748076559?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/Fen708eU9Iw/random-thought-1.html" title="Random Thought #1" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2009/05/random-thought-1.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0QASHk8fSp7ImA9WxVWFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-6277642241590512923</id><published>2009-02-24T20:27:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T21:35:49.775-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-24T21:35:49.775-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="omnipotent Google" /><title>Google - the Omnipotent</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rcWn4g1FzY_2G8K4XK8RdloJ0bo/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rcWn4g1FzY_2G8K4XK8RdloJ0bo/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rcWn4g1FzY_2G8K4XK8RdloJ0bo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rcWn4g1FzY_2G8K4XK8RdloJ0bo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I find myself coming back to this topic yet again... how Google has completely taken over most of our lives. That Gmail servers were down for some time today has been talked about extensively all over the web.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started out the day with my friend complaining how crippled and helpless he felt because he was unable to access his Gmail account. As unusual as this is, it comes as another sharp reminder. He said he spent the first 1.5 hours of his day waiting for Gmail to return to service and I sympathized with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to work and found another friend cribbing that the Gtalk feature in her Gmail window was acting up. All of us in the room spent the next 10 minutes talking about the issues Gmail seemed to be having since the wee hours of this day. I was glad to note that at least Gmail was now working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading some lecture notes about computer networks and found a mention of Distributed Denial of Service (DDoS) attack. I caught myself thinking whether that was the reason the Google servers were down; also wondered how powerful/critical the attack was and when and how Google might recover from it. A few hours later my friend left, still annoyed at the fact that she couldn't talk to her husband over Gmail, as is her norm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read an article that quoted an expert who categorized intelligence into two types - fluid intelligence and crystallized intelligence. Fluid intelligence is having knowledge of how to go about things, while crystallized intelligence is knowledge of the specific details. Interesting, I thought ... I guess I'd say I have fluid intelligence since I usually figure out the broad approach to take to solve any problem that I'm tackling and turn to Google for the 'crystallization'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come evening, I called up a company I am interviewing with and was trying to schedule an online timed test. The lady at the other end asked me to send her an email and told me she would respond immediately and administer the test. I sent her the mail and prayed that Gmail wouldn't let me down and would deliver it immediately. I spent the next half hour hitting the refresh button on my mail client, waiting for her response. Nothing! I logged into Gmail - thanking my stars that it let me do so. No mails there either. I checked the Spam folder and the Trash folder. Nothing still!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called up the company again and asked them if they'd received my email. Thankfully they had and it turned out to be only a confusion about the start time of the test. I gave them a specific time within the next half hour and took what I felt was a truly deserved break. I met a friend for coffee during my short break and once again we were discussing the troubles we had been having with Google so far in the day.  I returned quickly hoping mightily that the test had been delivered to my Gmail inbox. Was glad to note it was!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was expected to work on the test and email my answers to the company within the next hour. I completed the test in less than 40 min and yet again prayed that Gmail be back to normal since I had to email my answers or the whole effort would have gone a waste. It worked - Go Gmail!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come home and am Stumble-ing as a way of relaxation and Stumble hits me with an article describing why Google servers were down today. The article termed it something like the digital equivalent of a power blackout. True indeed! I find it just as obstructive of all my activities as a power shutdown. Power failures are quite common in my hometown, Bangalore. But I know how to deal with them and we have a UPS there to give us upto 2 hours of backup power. But how do I deal with a Gmail failure? Especially since I depend on it solely? Redundancy is a good way to have a failback system, they taught me in EMC. Maybe I should create an email account with another service provider and get Gmail to forward all incoming mails to that as well. Even then, only mails received will be forwarded. What's the guarantee that they will be received at all - if the servers are down? I'm still trying to think of a reliable fail-back system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In effect I've spent most of my waking hours today realizing just how dependent I am on Google.  To top it all, I consider my dream job to be at Google and fantasize about all the great things that I would work on, the power (ie technology) that would lie at my disposable and how I could make an impact on millions of people I'll never meet but who will thank me for making some part of their lives easier. Wouldn't it be nice to turn this preoccupation into an occupation as well! Should I start working at Google, I wonder, could it get worse(!!??) than that? &lt;smug grin&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Google, you fill me with both anxiety and admiration - I don't know how much of each, but in my mind they coexist for sure! Go Google! :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-6277642241590512923?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/I13qxEERFCk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/6277642241590512923/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=6277642241590512923" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/6277642241590512923?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/6277642241590512923?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/I13qxEERFCk/google-omnipotent.html" title="Google - the Omnipotent" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2009/02/google-omnipotent.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMBQXw4eSp7ImA9WxVWEUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-5822618930640174671</id><published>2009-02-20T20:57:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T21:14:10.231-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-20T21:14:10.231-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bangalore" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="slumdog millionaire" /><title>The Despicable Slumdog Millionaire</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ceAIeVT9JwDoM9thdr-0qp5Zmng/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ceAIeVT9JwDoM9thdr-0qp5Zmng/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ceAIeVT9JwDoM9thdr-0qp5Zmng/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ceAIeVT9JwDoM9thdr-0qp5Zmng/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Of late, I've participated in a lot of discussion about the movie Slumdog Millionaire. Most of the arguments go along the lines of "It doesn't portray India in a good light, so this is not what foreigners must see". I liked the movie - I like the manner in which 10 stories have been weaved together to make one good movie. In all honesty, I cannot entirely agree with or deny everything that's been shown in it. I was&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt; annoyed at the callousness of some statements : "This is India! ... This is America!" But in the end, my opinion is that "It's just another movie - so let it be."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Here's something that's worth spending more time discussing... something that portrays India in bad light... something that I want no foreigner to see... for it is shameful. I received this article in a forwarded email and feel absolutely bound to share it.  Don't despise the movie - it's these "Slumdog Millionaire" animals that are truly deserving of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Read on... I quote...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;A few of my friends and I were just paying our bills and coming out of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;our regular Friday night watering hole and dinner place in Rest House&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Road, just off Brigade Road, and most of the women in the company were&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;already standing outside. Some of us outside were smoking, people were&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;happy, there was laughter and jokes, as there were many other people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;in the street, all coming out, satiated, in the closing hour of the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;various pubs and restaurants around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Suddenly from up the street a massive SUV comes revving and speeding,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;hurtling down, and stops in a scream of brakes and swirling dust,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;millimeters away from this group of 4 women, barely missing one of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;their legs. A white Audi, imported, still under transfer, with the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;registration plate of KA-51 TR-2767. Some millionaire's toy thing,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;that in the wrong hands can kill.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Naturally the women are in shock. And quickly following the shock&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;comes indignation. These are self made women running their own&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;businesses, managing state responsibilities for global NGO firms,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;successful doctors. They are not used to being bullied. So they turn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;around, instead of shrinking back in fear. They protest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;And as soon as they turn around in protest, the car doors are flung&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;open, and a stream of 4-5 rabid men run out towards these women,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;screaming obscenities in Hindi and Kannada against women in general,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;fists flailing. Some of us who came in running at the sound of the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;screaming brakes now stand in the middle in defense of our women, and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;then blows start raining down. One of the goons make a couple of calls&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;over the cellphone, and in seconds a stream of other equally rabid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;goondas land up. They gun straight for the women, and everyone – a few&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;well-meaning bystanders, acquaintances who know us from the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;restaurant, basically everyone who tries to help the women – starts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;getting thoroughly beaten up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Women are kicked in the groin, punched in the stomach, slapped across&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;the face, grabbed everywhere, abused constantly. Men are smashed up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;professionally, blows aimed at livers, groins, kidneys and nose. A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;friend is hit repeatedly on the head by a stone until he passes out in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;a flood of blood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;A plain-clothes policeman (Vittal Kumar) who saunters in late stands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;by watching and urging people to stop, but doing absolutely nothing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;else. A 'cheetah' biker cop comes in, with our women pleading him to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;stop this madness, but he refuses action, saying a police van will&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;come in soon and he cannot do anything. Everyone keeps getting&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;hammered. Relentlessly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;The carnage continues for over 20 minutes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Finally when the police van does come in it is this vandals who are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;raging and ranting, claiming to be true "sons of the Kannadiga soil",&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;and we are positioned to be the villainous outsiders, bleeding,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;outraged. How do the cops believe them, especially seeing the bloody&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;faces of our men and the violated rage of our women, while they carry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;nary a scratch on their bodies? Don't ask me! Yet, it is us who these&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;goondas urge the newly arrived law-keepers to arrest, and the police&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;promptly comply, and we are bundled into the van, some still being&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;beaten as we are pushed in. Some blessed relief from pain inside the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;police van at least, even if we are inside and the real goons outside,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;driving alongside in their spanking white Audi. The guy who was hit by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;the stone is taken separately by the women to Mallya hospital.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Inside the police station at Cubbon Park it becomes clear that these&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;goons and the police know each other by their first names. The&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;policeman in charge (Thimmappa) initially refuses to even register any&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;complaint from me, on the purported grounds that I am not fluent in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Kannada and I have taken a few drinks (3 Kingfisher pints, to be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;precise) over the evening. No, it doesn't matter that I didn't have my&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;car and was not driving, and no, it doesn't mater that the complaint&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;will be written in English. We watch them and the goons exchange&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;smiles and nods with our our bloodied and swelling eyes and realize in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;our pain-clouded still-in-shock brains the extent of truth in the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;claim of one of the main goons when he claimed earlier in the evening&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;in virulent aggression: we own this town, this car belongs to an MLA,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;we will see how you return to this street!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;This was the turning point of the saga, I guess. For we refused to lie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;down quietly and be victims.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;One of our girls, a vintage and proud Bangalorean who is running one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;of the town's most successful organic farming initiatives, took upon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;herself to write the complaint, when I was not allowed to write the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;same. Another Bangalore girl, a state director of a global NGO firm,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;wrote the other molestation complaint separately on behalf of all the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;girls. Some of us called our friends in the media and corporate world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Everyone stepped up. And even when the odds were down and we were out,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;we did not give up, and as a singular body of violated citizens we&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;spoke in one voice of courage and indomitable spirit. That voice had&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;no limitation of language, not Kannada, nor English, or Hindi. It was&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;the voice of human spirit that cannot be broken.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;And in the face of that spirit, for the first time, we saw the ugly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;visage of vandalism, hiding behind the thin and inadequate veil of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;political corrupt power, narrow-vision regionalism and self-serving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;morality, start to wilt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;We spent 6 hours next day in the police station. The sub-inspector of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;police who filed our FIR, Ajay R M, seemed a breath of fresh air&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;inasmuch that he did not appear a-priori biased like others, even&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;though the hand of corruption and politico-criminal power backing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;these goons was still manifest in many ways: a starched, white-linen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;power-broker walked in handing over his card to the sub-inspector in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;support of the goons; the goons got an audience with the Inspector&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;because of this intervention, while we had to interact one level lower&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;down in the hierarchy; the plains cloth policeman of last night, even&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;though he had arrived far too late in the crime scene, gave a warped&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;statement, passing it off as a "neutral" point of view, repeatedly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;stressing that we came out of a pub and hence were drinking,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;positioning this as a 'drunken brawl', while completely forgetting to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;mention the unprovoked attack against the women and the one-sided&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;vandalism and violence that ensued. I guess one cannot blame the low&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;ranked police officer – the criminal connections of these goons must&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;be pervasive enough for him to be careful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Thanks however to the impartial handling of the situation by Ajay,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;soon the goons were all identified. The lead actor was one Ravi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Mallaya (38), a real estate honcho and owner of a small property off&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Brigade Road which he has converted into a "gaming" (you know what&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;that means, don't you?) adda. The others identified are Mohan Basava&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;(22) of Chamarajapet 12th Cross, R. Vijay Kumar Ramalingaraju (25) and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Shivu Rajashekar (20). All are residents of 12th &amp;amp; 13th Cross in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Vyalikaval. Their bravado and machismo were by that time evaporated.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;It was good to see their faces then.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Of course nothing much happened to them, nor did we expect it. They&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;were supposed to be in lock up for at least the weekend till they were&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;produced in court, but we understand that they were quickly released&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;on (anticipatory?) bail. The car, purportedly belonging to an MLA,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;also does not figure in the FIR, apparently for reasons of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;"irrelevance to the case".The media also have given us fantastic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;coverage and support so far, strengthening the cause.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;The goons meanwhile, as an after thought, also filed the customary&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;reverse complaint on the morning after we filed our own complaint: the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;women have apparently scratched the car! (Why did they not file the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;complaint the same night, considering they came to the Police Station&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;in the same car? Why was the car allowed to be taken off police&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;custody? Why is the car still irrelevant to the case and not in the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;FIR? Questions.. questions..).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Is this the end of this saga? Probably not. Are these women, more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;precious to us as friends and wives than most things in our lives,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;safe to walk or drive down Brigade Road from now on or are the goonda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;elements, slighted by this arrest and disgrace, are lying in ambush,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;waiting, biding their time to cause some of us more grievous harm? We&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;don't know. Is there reason for us to remain apprehensive of future&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;attacks and victimization? Perhaps.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;But here is the point.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;We stood up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;We believed in the power of individual citizens even in the face of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;hooliganism, intolerance, corruption and power mongering. Even though&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;many of us have the option of leveraging political or government&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;connections, we deliberately chose to fight this battle as&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;individuals. Sure, these connections have been activated and they have&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;been kept informed, should the worst case scenario unfold tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;But we have chosen to not leverage them. And in every small win we&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;register as a group of individual outraged citizens of Bangalore and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;India, however insignificant these milestones may be in the larger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;scheme of things, there is one small notch adding up in favor of what&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;is right, one small notch against what is wrong. And we believe that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;every such small notch counts, each such mark is absolutely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;invaluable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;It is the people who make this city, this country, this world. It is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;you and I, as much as the terrorists inside and outside. And in our&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;small insignificant little ways, it is my responsibility and yours to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;not shirk from investing effort – not just lip service or any token&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;attempt, but real effort – in backing up what we ourselves believe in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;It is so easy to logically argue that everything is corrupt, nothing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;is worth it, there are so many risks involved. We must not fall trap&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;to this escapist trend. We must not fail to try.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Next time you feel outraged, violated, abused, don't let it go by and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;add up to your list of litanies and complaints. Stand up and take it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;to the limit - at least your own limit. Not in the same way as they&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;wrong you, but in the way that every citizen, at least in theory, is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;entitled to complain and protest. Do not let the hooligans power rant&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;scare you or prompt you into submission. Do not allow the corrupt cop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;make you give up trying. Carry the flame forward. Try harder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;If are up to it, start right now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Forward this note to everyone you want to be made aware of this. Post&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;it in your own blogs. Talk about it amongst your circles. And if&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;anyone of you should like to step forward with a word of empathy or&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;advise, talk to me. Comment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;It is not Bangalore that is going to the dogs. It is us. We have far&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;too long become accustomed to let everything go. And the more we let&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;things go without any protest or fight, the dormant criminal and dark&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;elements of the society get that much more encouraged. Every time we&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;turn the other way, the hooligan next street gets incentivized to push&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;the boundary a little further, provoke a little more, try something a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;little more atrocious. It is time for us to refuse to let this go on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;We are responsible for making ourselves proud. Lets believe in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;ourselves. We can do this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;My name is Saugata Chatterjee. And I am standing up.I refuse to let&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Bangalore go to the hooligan slumdogs, even if some of them are pets&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-family:times new roman;" &gt;of corrupt power millionaires.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-5822618930640174671?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/dNH-EC-0N9s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/5822618930640174671/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=5822618930640174671" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/5822618930640174671?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/5822618930640174671?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/dNH-EC-0N9s/despicable-slumdog-millionaire.html" title="The Despicable Slumdog Millionaire" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2009/02/despicable-slumdog-millionaire.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQNQ3g8fip7ImA9WxVXEE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-4477450337875416925</id><published>2009-02-07T06:32:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T07:06:32.676-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-07T07:06:32.676-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="NY" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Photography" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Buffalo" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Allentown Art Festival" /><title>Buffalo - HOME away from home</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BMrVYdl1JuPWkc7euZaBNm_q6OM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BMrVYdl1JuPWkc7euZaBNm_q6OM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BMrVYdl1JuPWkc7euZaBNm_q6OM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BMrVYdl1JuPWkc7euZaBNm_q6OM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe id="schmapplet" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" allowtransparency="true" style="border-style: none; border-width: 0px;" src="http://www.schmap.com/templates/t011g.html?uid=buffalo&amp;amp;sid=home&amp;amp;ultranarrow=true&amp;amp;si=SCHMAP-070209648933#mapview=Map&amp;amp;tab=photos&amp;amp;topleft=42.8720617,-78.88786515&amp;amp;bottomright=42.9432603,-78.81906785&amp;amp;c=f6f6f60b0059A62122A62122FFF88Ff9ffedffffffFFF88Fd8d8d8A4A7A6A621226990fff9ffed000000FFFFFF5C5A4E000000929292F0EFDA" frameborder="0" height="360" scrolling="no" width="180"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SY14fpfg4tI/AAAAAAAAALc/wGvAZNop-1Y/s1600-h/2993268496_b3307dac03_b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SY14fpfg4tI/AAAAAAAAALc/wGvAZNop-1Y/s400/2993268496_b3307dac03_b.jpg" alt="Allentown Art Festival" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300024821594251986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:85%;" &gt;Allentown Art Festival, June 2008&lt;/span&gt;&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/11200793-4477450337875416925?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/gNNpbn9xsfo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/4477450337875416925/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=4477450337875416925" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/4477450337875416925?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/4477450337875416925?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/gNNpbn9xsfo/buffalo-home-away-from-home.html" title="Buffalo - HOME away from home" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SY14fpfg4tI/AAAAAAAAALc/wGvAZNop-1Y/s72-c/2993268496_b3307dac03_b.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2009/02/buffalo-home-away-from-home.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cFQX87cCp7ImA9WxRUE00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-4534459345019749291</id><published>2008-11-21T15:52:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T15:56:50.108-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-21T15:56:50.108-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="whacky stuff" /><title>Whacky or what?</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t9IQ644rTD7-UAqw0XDr4_7m060/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t9IQ644rTD7-UAqw0XDr4_7m060/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t9IQ644rTD7-UAqw0XDr4_7m060/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/t9IQ644rTD7-UAqw0XDr4_7m060/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;src: &lt;a href="http://pixdaus.com/single.php?id=45546"&gt;http://pixdaus.com/single.php?id=45546&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SScfuZirNsI/AAAAAAAAALA/GSuWopJmQZc/s1600-h/hitler_rug.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SScfuZirNsI/AAAAAAAAALA/GSuWopJmQZc/s400/hitler_rug.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271216770851223234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hitler Rug - Whacky or plain creepy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://pixdaus.com/single.php?id=45546"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/11200793-4534459345019749291?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/tYnCHT1ewT4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/4534459345019749291/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=4534459345019749291" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/4534459345019749291?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/4534459345019749291?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/tYnCHT1ewT4/whacky-or-what.html" title="Whacky or what?" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SScfuZirNsI/AAAAAAAAALA/GSuWopJmQZc/s72-c/hitler_rug.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2008/11/whacky-or-what.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcERX49fip7ImA9WxRWF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-9146878969123368849</id><published>2008-11-03T18:58:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T19:03:24.066-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-03T19:03:24.066-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fall colours" /><title>The Second Fall</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4sain7Xk60AbfS4Qes-y2FFZBkM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4sain7Xk60AbfS4Qes-y2FFZBkM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4sain7Xk60AbfS4Qes-y2FFZBkM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4sain7Xk60AbfS4Qes-y2FFZBkM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SQ-QomNSNjI/AAAAAAAAAK4/eILC1nFUr0g/s1600-h/fall_at_Ellicott.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SQ-QomNSNjI/AAAAAAAAAK4/eILC1nFUr0g/s400/fall_at_Ellicott.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264585516544833074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;Fall colours at UB North Campus - This is what keeps me going!&lt;/span&gt;&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/11200793-9146878969123368849?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/AASqH7rawzs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/9146878969123368849/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=9146878969123368849" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/9146878969123368849?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/9146878969123368849?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/AASqH7rawzs/second-fall.html" title="The Second Fall" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SQ-QomNSNjI/AAAAAAAAAK4/eILC1nFUr0g/s72-c/fall_at_Ellicott.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2008/11/second-fall.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A04DR346eCp7ImA9WxRTE0Q.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-1047480464401379593</id><published>2008-09-02T19:45:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T19:59:36.010-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-09-02T19:59:36.010-04:00</app:edited><title>Obsession with Niagara continues</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CU1N7vr7F0k-ineBzp4igWfcCZM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CU1N7vr7F0k-ineBzp4igWfcCZM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CU1N7vr7F0k-ineBzp4igWfcCZM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/CU1N7vr7F0k-ineBzp4igWfcCZM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SL3Qbtbg9EI/AAAAAAAAAIg/GtaqmSgNq8w/s1600-h/IMG_1990.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SL3Qbtbg9EI/AAAAAAAAAIg/GtaqmSgNq8w/s400/IMG_1990.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241574715799172162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was my 6th visit to the Niagara Falls since I've been in the US - just a little over a year. Each one has been quite different from the others. Each time with different company. The only constant thing is my obsession with the river.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This visit marks the end of a glorious summer... a few of the best 4 months of my life... a summer that started out with anticipation, leading to trepidation, merriment, care-free-ness, joy and sheer bliss - a second childhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer's ended. But does everything end here? Hope not...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-1047480464401379593?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/tmF69uHXgAc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/1047480464401379593/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=1047480464401379593" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1047480464401379593?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1047480464401379593?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/tmF69uHXgAc/obsession-with-niagara-continues.html" title="Obsession with Niagara continues" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SL3Qbtbg9EI/AAAAAAAAAIg/GtaqmSgNq8w/s72-c/IMG_1990.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2008/09/obsession-with-niagara-continues.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cGQ349fCp7ImA9WxdXFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-2647457023589775334</id><published>2008-06-28T09:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T09:17:02.064-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-06-28T09:17:02.064-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cells" /><title>Surviving?</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Nx5ySgeWl06GCMIxx9ze-YC0rIQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Nx5ySgeWl06GCMIxx9ze-YC0rIQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Nx5ySgeWl06GCMIxx9ze-YC0rIQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Nx5ySgeWl06GCMIxx9ze-YC0rIQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I just read this article about &lt;a href="http://www.citypaper.com/news/story.asp?id=3426"&gt;Henrietta Lacks&lt;/a&gt; who's cells have survived for decades after her death and is apparently extensively used in laboratories to this day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Set me thinking... What does it really mean to be alive? Is it sufficient if your cells survive? After all, physically, aren't we made up of an assorted array of cells?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-2647457023589775334?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/Qp4o_BEDbEA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/2647457023589775334/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=2647457023589775334" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/2647457023589775334?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/2647457023589775334?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/Qp4o_BEDbEA/surviving.html" title="Surviving?" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2008/06/surviving.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0IER3w5cSp7ImA9WxdQE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-4319240428991729970</id><published>2008-06-13T13:41:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-13T13:51:46.229-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-06-13T13:51:46.229-04:00</app:edited><title>Summer of 2008</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pqmQDq4t2eFWjfD-TWw7bFHqk8o/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pqmQDq4t2eFWjfD-TWw7bFHqk8o/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pqmQDq4t2eFWjfD-TWw7bFHqk8o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/pqmQDq4t2eFWjfD-TWw7bFHqk8o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The changing seasons have brought about a change in perspective. Never imagined one's mood could be so dependent on weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SFKxrOINLGI/AAAAAAAAAH4/AiWzyTJoPeQ/s1600-h/DSC01198.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SFKxrOINLGI/AAAAAAAAAH4/AiWzyTJoPeQ/s400/DSC01198.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211423074906090594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Blurring of Borders - The blue skies and the blue seas&lt;br /&gt;(View from aircraft, enroute Chicago - Buffalo)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SFKyBLIvTKI/AAAAAAAAAIA/7ajBsN3xlcQ/s1600-h/DSC01216.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SFKyBLIvTKI/AAAAAAAAAIA/7ajBsN3xlcQ/s400/DSC01216.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211423452060142754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Here's to the Summer of 2008!!&lt;/span&gt;&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/11200793-4319240428991729970?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/ahCCmTHaXYY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/4319240428991729970/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=4319240428991729970" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/4319240428991729970?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/4319240428991729970?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/ahCCmTHaXYY/change.html" title="Summer of 2008" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SFKxrOINLGI/AAAAAAAAAH4/AiWzyTJoPeQ/s72-c/DSC01198.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2008/06/change.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMAR307eyp7ImA9WxdQEEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-1639189086745918203</id><published>2008-06-10T03:42:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T04:44:06.303-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-06-10T04:44:06.303-04:00</app:edited><title>Guess ?</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mmFCIMcrjC6xgsTAnlQzuGBkNqM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mmFCIMcrjC6xgsTAnlQzuGBkNqM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mmFCIMcrjC6xgsTAnlQzuGBkNqM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mmFCIMcrjC6xgsTAnlQzuGBkNqM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SE4wqvgbbPI/AAAAAAAAAHw/hfWPk-Zg_d4/s1600-h/guess.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SE4wqvgbbPI/AAAAAAAAAHw/hfWPk-Zg_d4/s400/guess.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210155329779363058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hoarding in Pondicherry (2-Jun-2008)&lt;/span&gt;&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/11200793-1639189086745918203?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/2o7tuRD0EGY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/1639189086745918203/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=1639189086745918203" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1639189086745918203?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1639189086745918203?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/2o7tuRD0EGY/guess.html" title="Guess ?" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SE4wqvgbbPI/AAAAAAAAAHw/hfWPk-Zg_d4/s72-c/guess.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2008/06/guess.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0IGSXY-eSp7ImA9WxZaE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-6485960740161537177</id><published>2008-04-27T16:34:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T16:52:08.851-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-04-27T16:52:08.851-04:00</app:edited><title>So what...?</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Jipq7yDFc-bXrxprSLiciavP0XY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Jipq7yDFc-bXrxprSLiciavP0XY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Jipq7yDFc-bXrxprSLiciavP0XY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Jipq7yDFc-bXrxprSLiciavP0XY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SBTmbqZ9QzI/AAAAAAAAAHU/IUxy9-2fKGQ/s1600-h/DSC01077.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SBTmbqZ9QzI/AAAAAAAAAHU/IUxy9-2fKGQ/s400/DSC01077.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194029633179042610" border="0" /&gt;Lake LaSalle, North Campus, Buffalo, NY&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So what if I'm all the way across the globe from where I was less than a year ago? The things I like haven't changed one bit. So what if I dont have a bike to ride anymore? I have a lake right on campus. So what if I can't get the thrill of riding without a helmet? The cool breeze ruffles my hair and follows me everywhere on campus. So what if I cant do the things I was so used to doing back home? The forbidden pleasures are the norm out here. So what if I can't meet the people I grew up with? The people here are the ones who're building their lives with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Am I displaced? Do I miss home? Do I think this is better? I don't know. How can you possibly compare two complementary scenarios?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-6485960740161537177?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/EOz3O20ZTrk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/6485960740161537177/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=6485960740161537177" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/6485960740161537177?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/6485960740161537177?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/EOz3O20ZTrk/so-what.html" title="So what...?" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/SBTmbqZ9QzI/AAAAAAAAAHU/IUxy9-2fKGQ/s72-c/DSC01077.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2008/04/so-what.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIBQX48eyp7ImA9WxZVEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-3082254843120831205</id><published>2008-03-21T13:30:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T00:02:30.073-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-22T00:02:30.073-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="popular" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="expectation of non-coinciding opinon" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="the second time" /><title>Dwiteeya Vigna</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/m3iSIHyUB3AZhOkSh5kWiYyCndw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/m3iSIHyUB3AZhOkSh5kWiYyCndw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/m3iSIHyUB3AZhOkSh5kWiYyCndw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/m3iSIHyUB3AZhOkSh5kWiYyCndw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;From the time of my oldest memories, I remember Anna telling me about "Dwiteeya Vigna".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is nice and fun to do something the first time round. It's doing it the second time that takes the most effort. Effort in terms of motivation to repeat it the second time; also in terms of seeing it through to completion the second time. If you do manage to get through the second time, further repetitions come easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How very true!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am no workaholic. I am rather the happy-go-lucky kinds that will do something only for the pleasure of doing it. If something doesn't seem interesting enough or pose enough of a challenge to me, I wont consider doing it even the first time. If I have done something once, there's no fun in doing it a second time round. I'd rather try something new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But somethings have gotta be seen through to completion. And that's what's keeping me going for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting my first degree - I didn't have a choice. Had to do it. Did it. To try to get a second - that required 'some' work -  to let go of a life where I had it all and land myself into a godforsaken place, eternally at war with the whims of nature. Can't complain about that - I chose this way of life. In hindsight... whatever was I thinking!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, it's time for dwiteeya vigna all over again. I just wanna get through this semester. The next one is going to be nice and easy (at least, I'm hoping it will be) and I don't see a fourth on the horizon - may not be one after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's interesting to note that everyone I know or have heard of are complaining about their second semester. What are the odds that every opinion you hear from persons known and unknown coincide? You'd expect that there's someone who has had a different experience. I'm waiting to hear from that someone. The expectation of this random variable tending to zero is Zero.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-3082254843120831205?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/zu2OFWIwf7w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/3082254843120831205/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=3082254843120831205" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/3082254843120831205?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/3082254843120831205?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/zu2OFWIwf7w/dwiteeya-vigna.html" title="Dwiteeya Vigna" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2008/03/dwiteeya-vigna.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUANSHw7eCp7ImA9WxZWF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-6739037189359985347</id><published>2008-03-16T17:40:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T17:43:19.200-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-16T17:43:19.200-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Niagara River" /><title>Niagara Falls</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ce2eTf0pQdISI-JNGalIsgYxNkU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ce2eTf0pQdISI-JNGalIsgYxNkU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ce2eTf0pQdISI-JNGalIsgYxNkU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ce2eTf0pQdISI-JNGalIsgYxNkU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/R92ULu6DkSI/AAAAAAAAAHM/rgPlgUbK2k8/s1600-h/IMG_0646.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 447px; height: 335px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/R92ULu6DkSI/AAAAAAAAAHM/rgPlgUbK2k8/s400/IMG_0646.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178458075836944674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-6739037189359985347?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/JLwOH3HEo-4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/6739037189359985347/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=6739037189359985347" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/6739037189359985347?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/6739037189359985347?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/JLwOH3HEo-4/niagara-falls.html" title="Niagara Falls" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/R92ULu6DkSI/AAAAAAAAAHM/rgPlgUbK2k8/s72-c/IMG_0646.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2008/03/niagara-falls.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QCSXs4fCp7ImA9WxZWF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-6931129903436194694</id><published>2008-03-16T16:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T17:02:48.534-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-16T17:02:48.534-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fall colours" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="allegany state park" /><title>Fall 2007</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/161WEobiQLM47q_sutlrp27msgA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/161WEobiQLM47q_sutlrp27msgA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/161WEobiQLM47q_sutlrp27msgA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/161WEobiQLM47q_sutlrp27msgA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/R92KS-6DkRI/AAAAAAAAAHE/KROgvvzrkAA/s1600-h/DSC00646.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 430px; height: 322px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/R92KS-6DkRI/AAAAAAAAAHE/KROgvvzrkAA/s400/DSC00646.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178447205274718482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I miss Fall already!&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/11200793-6931129903436194694?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/E7e5s7Uvuqo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/6931129903436194694/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=6931129903436194694" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/6931129903436194694?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/6931129903436194694?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/E7e5s7Uvuqo/fall-2007.html" title="Fall 2007" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/R92KS-6DkRI/AAAAAAAAAHE/KROgvvzrkAA/s72-c/DSC00646.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2008/03/fall-2007.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcGQXYyeCp7ImA9WxZXFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-1710811108342986135</id><published>2008-03-02T16:12:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T16:23:40.890-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-02T16:23:40.890-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="preadult" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="advise" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="teenager" /><title>Best advise for all Pre-Adults</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JqjuTBHjRLL17rvoPJOu0X8GURk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JqjuTBHjRLL17rvoPJOu0X8GURk/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JqjuTBHjRLL17rvoPJOu0X8GURk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JqjuTBHjRLL17rvoPJOu0X8GURk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/R8saWP3E3MI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Z9ctqjQm5Js/s1600-h/image0011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/R8saWP3E3MI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Z9ctqjQm5Js/s400/image0011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173257566482128066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Src: http://www.vronline.net/?p=66&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Loved this instantly. Exactly what I had always wanted to do!&lt;/span&gt;&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/11200793-1710811108342986135?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/vnDqjJIGxMs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/1710811108342986135/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=1710811108342986135" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1710811108342986135?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1710811108342986135?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/vnDqjJIGxMs/best-advise-for-all-pre-adults.html" title="Best advise for all Pre-Adults" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/R8saWP3E3MI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Z9ctqjQm5Js/s72-c/image0011.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2008/03/best-advise-for-all-pre-adults.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMMSHw7fSp7ImA9WxZXFUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-9133564941251886405</id><published>2008-01-26T18:25:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-03T11:58:09.205-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-03T11:58:09.205-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="knowlegde or the lack of it" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="choose your delusion" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="eternal question" /><title>"We're born and we die; we don't know why."</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mnlNgdm_y2QYVcuonRc5Ck1r-kA/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mnlNgdm_y2QYVcuonRc5Ck1r-kA/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mnlNgdm_y2QYVcuonRc5Ck1r-kA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mnlNgdm_y2QYVcuonRc5Ck1r-kA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;The other day I was watching an old Jackie Chan movie with a few friends. One of the characters named Ting Ting  delivered this dialogue quite nonchalantly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;"We're born and we die; we don't know why."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her rhythmic sing-song tone cracked us all up. We decided to put it up as our status messages. So all 4 of us had it on together. None of our other friends could fathom what we were upto. We kept at it for a whole day. Then my friends found expression with different quotes, while I still retain the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a beautiful and concise summation of all human life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We give ourselves airs that we've made great progress in every walk of life. We consider ourselves superior to all other life forms. We take great pride in the comforts and havoc caused by advances in science. We rave about our philosophical thoughts, astrological predictions, psychological control and paranormal experiences. We proclaim ourselves happy at times; we vehemently cry foul and accuse Fate or God for all our miseries. We think we are in control as long as things go our way; the minute things begin to fall apart, we conveniently give up saying it's beyond our powers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fact of life... We delude ourselves every moment of the day, irrespective of being conscious or unconscious or semi-conscious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our waking hours are spent with us investing our beliefs in whatever seems the most convenient for our minds. Our sleeping hours are spent dreaming about things normal and abnormal - not an ounce of reality in those experiences. Our minds are forever deluding us and making us believe in imagined realities. That's how you can force yourself to believe that a certain event doesn't affect you; then the only truth that you experience is that you're not affected in any way. Force yourself to believe the other extreme and you feel miserable and see the after-effects everywhere you go and in everything you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reality is best explained in this Zen proverb :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;" &gt; "If you understand, things are just as they are;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;" &gt; if you do not understand, things are just as they are."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I altered my status message thus :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We're born and we die; we don't know why." What a pointless waste!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another friend who noticed this felt I was being negative and responded with an encouraging statement about life being good and to feel happy about it. I gave him my delusion theory. Delusion is due to lack of knowledge, he shot back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indeed! "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We're born and we die; we don't know why.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-9133564941251886405?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/K3jsRcCbmh0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/9133564941251886405/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=9133564941251886405" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/9133564941251886405?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/9133564941251886405?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/K3jsRcCbmh0/were-born-and-we-die-we-dont-know-why.html" title="&quot;We're born and we die; we don't know why.&quot;" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2008/01/were-born-and-we-die-we-dont-know-why.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE4HRHsyeip7ImA9WBFbGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-8005496700542978514</id><published>2007-05-11T13:53:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T14:08:55.592-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-05-11T14:08:55.592-04:00</app:edited><title>Fragile</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fOXVBlUnIXSu3PxUK6O-Aahrp-A/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fOXVBlUnIXSu3PxUK6O-Aahrp-A/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fOXVBlUnIXSu3PxUK6O-Aahrp-A/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fOXVBlUnIXSu3PxUK6O-Aahrp-A/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I'm touching documents made in 1948. These were written a lifetime ago. Even my father wasn't born until one year later. Somehow they make the 22-1/2 years of my life seem insignificant. Even irrelevant!&lt;p&gt;I thought I exhibited the most care and gentleness when I was tending to my Jimmy's wounds. But now I realize I am capable of even more tenderness.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today I got my first taste of what it feels to hold and touch something old and valuable. Wonder how the Google guys felt when they were working on digitizing all those really ancient books.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-8005496700542978514?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/zMOYLbRtnQg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/8005496700542978514/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=8005496700542978514" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/8005496700542978514?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/8005496700542978514?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/zMOYLbRtnQg/fragile.html" title="Fragile" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2007/05/fragile.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0IBQXc_cCp7ImA9WBFUF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-2082939081207207479</id><published>2007-04-28T09:48:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-28T10:12:30.948-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-04-28T10:12:30.948-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="&quot;It Happened in India&quot;" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="&quot;Kishore Biyani&quot;" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="autobiography" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="&quot;Dipayan Baishya&quot;" /><title>It Happened in India</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/f3OfR-Irx-3BahjtwH7OFIJdA9g/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/f3OfR-Irx-3BahjtwH7OFIJdA9g/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/f3OfR-Irx-3BahjtwH7OFIJdA9g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/f3OfR-Irx-3BahjtwH7OFIJdA9g/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;That's the name of Kishore Biyani's autobiography.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kishore who? For the ignorant ones (like me, previously) he's the guy behind Pantaloon, Big Bazaar, Future Bazaar and the Future Group. Impressive portfolio once you look him up. So as not to deprive him of his due credit, Dipayan Baishya is the co-author.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;How did I stumble upon this? I got a promotional offer announcement by email from FutureBazaar, since I had bought something online from them a long time ago. It said that the first 100 buyers of the book would get a personally autographed copy. So I decided to look the guy up. And then I found out that he's the guy behind Pantaloon and Big Bazaar.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Ok... I've read books about American entrepreneurs -- The Google Story, Warren Buffett - The Making of an American Capitalist. I really enjoyed reading both these books and they left me inspired and dying to do something myself for the sheer joy of doing it. Now a book about an indigenous Indian entrepreneur!? This is something I gotta see. Plus... I liked the idea of owning a personally autographed autobiography! Plus dirt cheap price - 99 bucks. I had to make this purchase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;I'm done reading over half way through the book. Gotta admit it's not as big in scale as the story of the Google guys or Warren Buffett - my heroes, whom I look upon as demi-gods. But this is something that's happened close to home and something that I can witness first hand too. Exactly why I liked The Google Story and Warren Buffet - I could verify and actually experience the things that were being written about. I hate shopping and detest going out to buy anything. Prefer to be done with it online on the occasions where I have no choice. But now I'm tempted to pay a visit to a local Big Bazaar, only to live the things the author writes about.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;One particular aspect of the book that I truly appreciated, is that the story is not a monotonous monologue. It is interspersed with several articles and letters / testimonies of the people with whom Kishore Biyani has worked with. And these pieces aren't made to stand out - seeming like appendages - but actually contribute to the narration of the tale. Immaterial of whether they have been printed with the original words of their respective authors, or edited to suit the book, these letters / testimonies / clippings of newspaper articles blend seamlessly and contribute to the flow of the story. KB picks up at exactly the point where the quotation leaves you. This concept has appealed to me very much.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;The Google Story and Buffett's biography, too, did quote things that people close to the subject(s) said, but they were usually limited to a one-liner or two-liners and didn't represent that person's complete perspective. But the format in this book paints a more complete picture and represents the views of KB's associates in a better manner. Of course all the testimonials are from supporters, or former non-believers who've now turned believers, and has none from existing critics. However, KB frequently reminds the reader of the obstacles he faced and the mistakes he committed and learnt from. Therefore it's not all rosy, but it's not too negative either.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Overall, so far, it's made for good reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-2082939081207207479?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/KGQ6YZuBH9w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/2082939081207207479/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=2082939081207207479" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/2082939081207207479?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/2082939081207207479?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/KGQ6YZuBH9w/it-happened-in-india.html" title="It Happened in India" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2007/04/it-happened-in-india.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cNRno-fip7ImA9WxZWEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-6932661691349695328</id><published>2007-04-11T14:53:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T16:38:17.456-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-03-09T16:38:17.456-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="U.G. Krishnamurti" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="UG" /><title>U.G.</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2OGZj8zFuIYT6UCSUzzYITJ1By0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2OGZj8zFuIYT6UCSUzzYITJ1By0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2OGZj8zFuIYT6UCSUzzYITJ1By0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2OGZj8zFuIYT6UCSUzzYITJ1By0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;While browsing in our club library, I picked up a book because it bore the name of Mahesh Bhatt - the famed film director. I found it surprizing that the man had sufficient skills to write a book. Little did I know then that he regularly publishes in many a newspaper. My presumptuous self was suitably put back in place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another reason I found for self-amusement was the sudden and increasing appearance of the name U.G. in the most (un)likely places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) There's an old book about conversations with U.G. which I have placed upright in my bureau - I'm not sure whether it belongs to my dad or his grandad or anyone else, but for all practical purposes I call it my dad's . I once picked it up and made an attempt to read it. I didn't know who U.G. was. I asked mom. She said he's one of India's greatest contemporary thinkers. Even then I didn't find enough motivation to carry on. I replaced it in the place I'd created for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Months later, I was randomly downloading videos and somehow landed up at a web-site where the author/owner/interviewer has interviewed many a thinker/philosopher of our time. There I ended up reading a transcript of an interview with U.G. At the end of it, when I turned off my computer and turned to my bed, my impression of U.G. was that he was a pompous man begging for attention by indulging in gimmicks such as denying all conventional thoughts and theories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) On 18-Mar-2007 I picked up a book only because I recognized the author Mahesh Bhatt and it turned out to be a biography of U.G. One of my first thoughts was "&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Why would someone as distinguished as Mahesh Bhatt bother writing a biography of someone like U.G.? I've gotta find this one out.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there I was finally reading about U.G. To say that I approached U.G. with an open mind would be wholly untrue. The intention with which I started out was to discover and evaluate for myself whether this man was worth his salt. However I can say that I started out with clean slate - free from all prior (factual) knowledge, except my own thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/Rh1GZ_BbMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/uKNnHv7HniM/s1600-h/UG%26MaheshBhatt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/Rh1GZ_BbMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/uKNnHv7HniM/s400/UG%26MaheshBhatt.jpg" alt="Mahesh Bhatt with his anti-guru" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052271769207649010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mahesh Bhatt with his anti-guru&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through &lt;a href="http://ug-k.blogspot.com/"&gt;Mahesh Bhatt's writings&lt;/a&gt;, I found U.G. to be an intriguing personality. Reading Mahesh Bhatt quoting U.G., I realized that I had slowly, unknowingly fallen into the trap of holding increasingly strengthening views/beliefs which were progressively tending towards inflexibility. &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Where did my questioning disappear? Why has the current gradually reduced in its intensity?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;I'm becoming an adult - one with preconceived notions/stands.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Stop! Revert to a previous checkpoint - one where you still had immense capacity to question anything and everything.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Thanks U.G.! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;Thanks Mahesh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mahesh Bhatt dedicates a whole chapter to U.G.'s "Death experience". I read it with interest. Here for the first time I see documented evidence that people feel electrically charged. You can see that I blogged about a similar recurring experience in my own life &lt;a href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2007/03/charged.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. The observant reader will not fail to note the date of the post. &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Another amazing coincidence - one of the many that constantly pop their heads at frequent intervals!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You go through a certain experience. You think you're the only one because you've not heard anyone else in your circle mention it. Finally you summon up the will to face and put up with their sniggers and share it with them. They don't disappoint you with their reactions! Towards the end of the 'discussion' you lose your ability to take more of it and laugh saying "Well... What can I say! I'm a freak of nature!", thereby effectively ending it. Then you unexpectedly read a piece where someone has documented a similar experience and you say "Okay... it's something at least. Guess I'm not the only freak." This kinda frees you of the implicit burden that comes with being the sole bearer of a certain title - &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;good or bad, it's your reputation at stake out there&lt;/span&gt;... and at all times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well... when the above happens and the other person is someone of U.G.'s stature (a great Indian thinker), one should be allowed a little leeway and forgiven if one takes an ever-so-minuscule moment to be the one who sniggers. For it definitely can't last longer than that. The description of the phenomenon/incident is immediately followed by a quote from U.G. where he says he doesn't want to elaborate on the experience, for he fears others who would like to share the limelight of his 'greatness' would cook up similar experiences and stake claim for 'greatness'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just can't escape the feeling of having received an unexpected blow in your stomach. But... &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Hey! It still doesn't negate the occurrence of the phenomenon in my life! I can prove it.&lt;/span&gt; But... &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;Dude, what're you trying to prove? To whom? Why?&lt;/span&gt; And then... &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Yeah, I have no need to prove anything to anyone. It's not of much consequence anyways. &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;So...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Relapse into your 'conservation of energy' mode&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; Hmmm... &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;There! The matter's settled.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read the whole book with interest. It didn't impress anything permanent upon me. It didn't make me start believing in something new - a belief I didn't hold before. It just reinforced in me the thought that there's nothing wrong in my questioning of things. If I sit down for a more detailed examination of what U.G. said and practiced, I'm certain that I can find many a contradiction in his words and deeds. But I have neither the inclination nor the motivation for that now. Maybe at a later date... For now I'm just happy to be reminded that it's ok to question all things high and sundry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I &lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.stumbleupon.com/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.stumbleupon.com/"&gt;Stumble&lt;/a&gt;-d upon &lt;a href="http://www.well.com/%7Ejct/"&gt;this site&lt;/a&gt; which tells me that U.G. died less than a month ago on 22-Mar-2007. I read the news with mixed emotions. Mahesh Bhatt's biography isn't complete. In the narrative on U.G.'s life, Mahesh Bhatt leaves us at the point in U.G.'s life where all the events Mahesh has meticulously documented are in the past. It is also the point where he returns to India, having stayed a month with U.G. for the sole purpose of writing this biography. I knew U.G. had died recently. &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Maybe within the last year&lt;/span&gt;, I had presumed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this &lt;a href="http://www.well.com/%7Ejct/Final_Remembering.htm"&gt;obituary which gives a fair account of U.G.'s life&lt;/a&gt;, also summarizing everything that Mahesh Bhatt has written in his biography.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To say that I escaped unscathed from all or any influence from U.G.'s thoughts/ideas/'teachings' would be a BIG lie. I do not wholly subscribe to his ideas. I perceive the existence of flaws in his logic, intuitively, even though I cannot substantiate the claim. As I said, I'm not in a mood serious enough to delve into those areas at the moment. &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;If I were a true follower, then I would say there's nothing to be gained by that anyway.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;Even then I wouldn't be a true follower, for how can one follow a teacher who had NO teaching!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, the sense of intrigue that I started out with persists. I shall continue to look up and read about U.G. &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);"&gt;Another obsession in the making?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"&gt;Maybe.&lt;/span&gt; Either way... &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;How does it matter?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-6932661691349695328?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/G9xzj-vNDOA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/6932661691349695328/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=6932661691349695328" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/6932661691349695328?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/6932661691349695328?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/G9xzj-vNDOA/ug.html" title="U.G." /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VH6vD0U-npA/Rh1GZ_BbMvI/AAAAAAAAADg/uKNnHv7HniM/s72-c/UG%26MaheshBhatt.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2007/04/ug.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEADRns4eCp7ImA9WBFWEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11200793.post-1291678533051778305</id><published>2007-03-28T14:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T14:32:57.530-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2007-03-28T14:32:57.530-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="elephant camp" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tame" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Rajiv Gandhi National Park" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="indian elephant" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="bathing" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="NagarahoLe" /><title>Tame Elephant Bathing</title><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NDmEao08hzKmFN8WCdQkZO_A8CM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NDmEao08hzKmFN8WCdQkZO_A8CM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NDmEao08hzKmFN8WCdQkZO_A8CM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NDmEao08hzKmFN8WCdQkZO_A8CM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;embed style="width:400px; height:326px;" id="VideoPlayback" align="middle" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=3460274673508468320&amp;hl=en" quality="best" bgcolor="#ffffff" scale="noScale" salign="TL"  FlashVars="playerMode=embedded"&gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Date: 25-March-2007&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11200793-1291678533051778305?l=nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~4/QV7MxtUEf4k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/feeds/1291678533051778305/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11200793&amp;postID=1291678533051778305" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1291678533051778305?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11200793/posts/default/1291678533051778305?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QBjFS/~3/QV7MxtUEf4k/tame-elephant-bathing.html" title="Tame Elephant Bathing" /><author><name>N. Madhavi</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06044327093221382660</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://nadigmadhavi.blogspot.com/2007/03/tame-elephant-bathing.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

