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PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1717253577330059991.post-7065506836408177338</guid><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-11T09:42:36.044-08:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IpNSqoqflhE/S0jtgs6TSrI/AAAAAAAADOY/X-WZEwH33eQ/s72-c/ad6.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">15</thr:total><description>You can fool all the people all the time if the advertising is right and the budget is big enough - Joseph Levine  As per Wikipedia (the modern age Encyclopedia), advertising is a form of...&lt;br/&gt;
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We all agree that social media is a wonderful...&lt;br/&gt;
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Virgil once famously remarked that the greatest wealth is...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~4/6aP-IcQ1npk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://salilravindran.blogspot.com/2009/07/no-excuse-for-no-exercise.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>History was made on this day</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~3/HrOkoUYY9G0/history-was-made-on-this-day.html</link><category>Occassions and Festivals</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Salil)</author><pubDate>Sun, 28 Jun 2009 12:11:49 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1717253577330059991.post-6966163112972786</guid><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-28T12:11:49.921-07:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IpNSqoqflhE/SketWziUuYI/AAAAAAAACvM/2Jt44dlglVI/s72-c/1%2B+anniversary.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">30</thr:total><description>It’s been one year, 365 days to be precise. Earth has gone around the sun once. It seems like it was only last month that it happened. Maybe earth should slow down!

On June 28, 2008 I wrote...&lt;br/&gt;
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I have a huge problem. No, not my ego. Despite my social skills, or rather the lack of it, I get invited...&lt;br/&gt;
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Ok point taken, let me vote.

‘The next time they give you all that civic...&lt;br/&gt;
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Being an accountant, the most frequent request I face is advice on making money in the stock market. I am sure they must...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~4/a9TML8FDoPw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://salilravindran.blogspot.com/2009/03/ten-commandments-to-make-money-in-stock.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>It’s about that time of the year</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~3/y_v4fS6pdN8/its-about-that-time-of-year.html</link><category>Occassions and Festivals</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Salil)</author><pubDate>Wed, 13 May 2009 14:14:16 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1717253577330059991.post-8935927953155543489</guid><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-13T14:14:16.868-07:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IpNSqoqflhE/SYzk1JcKUUI/AAAAAAAAB04/6aZtZMwdZ2o/s72-c/NYR2.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">18</thr:total><description>He who breaks a resolution is a weakling; He who makes one is a fool. – F M Knowles

What is special about February? February was named after the Latin term februum, which means purification....&lt;br/&gt;
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But even after 12+ year</itunes:subtitle><itunes:author>noreply@blogger.com (Salil)</itunes:author><itunes:summary> “There is nothing permanent except change” – Heraclitus (535 - 475 BC) Ever since I met my wife (at that time, to-be-wife), she has been constantly trying to change me; of course, with the good intention of making me a better man. But even after 12+ years, as per her, I am still work-in-progress. The sad part is that after being subjected to so much change and having changed so much, she feels, particularly when she is angry or we have had a fight, that I was a lot better man in the past. I wonder if she even thinks if I am the ‘same’ man she loved so many years ago. In fact, I even wonder if she wonders why I wonder so much, which is so wonderful. Before I got married, I had thousands of faults I didn’t even know about and I used to live merrily. But after marriage, I came to know about all my faults and I live miserably. As per my wife, I need to change only two things to eliminate all my faults - everything I say and everything I do. My process of change started off with me being asked to be “sensitive” to her needs. I was told that the first step was to be attentive to everything she told me and to be able to recall the details later on, like the following example: When meeting a lady, whom she had known from last week, in the shopping mall, she would talk as if they grew up all their childhood together and then look up to me and say, “Dear, do you remember about the neighbour’s uncle’s friend’s daughter that I told you about?” And I am expected to answer, “Yes honey, the one who lives in US and has a Dalmatian (apart from the husband, of course).” That reminds me of the joke which goes that at the beginning of married life, every wife treats her husband as god, but later on somehow the first and last alphabets get reversed. The next step I was made to undergo was to share common interests. This in normal language would mean where one person starts taking interest in the other’s activities and vice versa. But later on I realized that this, in her language, meant that I start finding shopping as an interesting activity and in return stop watching cricket, tennis and other games on TV. I thought, and so did my friends, that I was a pretty funny guy before marriage. But I was told that all my jokes were silly and sometimes even vulgar. I was asked to be respectable in my speech and more serious in my conversations. This has made me a somber guy, which gets particularly exaggerated in the midst of bachelors. The other thing I have been made to do is to help in domestic chores. I used to live a life where I considered tasks, like paying the electricity bill, calling the electrician, or dusting the house, to be menial. However, after marriage I was told that they are unavoidable tasks needed to perform in the household and I would better do them unless I wanted to sleep in the living room couch. (psst psst…. I will share a secret with you if you promise not to tell my wife - I try to mess things up often so that I will not have to do them again. And believe me, I have had reasonable success with it.) When we got married, we decided that my wife will not add my surname to her name. But I had to fight four teeth and three nails to prevent her from adding her second name to my name. That is when I learned that the principle of change only applies to me. She has never attempted to change (psst psst… except her weight). What she doesn’t realise perhaps is the saying that a man will never change, unless he's in diapers. I have heard that love and marriage are purely matter of chemistry, which explains why my wife treats me like toxic waste. But if change is the only constant, shouldn’t her treatment towards me also change? I am sorry to report that it hasn’t. So my dear readers, is change permanent or could Heraclitus be wrong? I hope my wife wouldn’t care much about this post. But between you and me, I have been, in the past, a remarkably poor judge of what my wife cares about. As you leave, please watch this funny commercial on cha</itunes:summary><itunes:keywords>My Better three-fourth</itunes:keywords><description>“There is nothing permanent except change” – Heraclitus (535 - 475 BC) 

Ever since I met my wife (at that time, to-be-wife), she has been constantly trying to change me; of course, with the good...&lt;br/&gt;
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Mark Twain is one of my most-respected writers and most...&lt;br/&gt;
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When Alexander Parkes invented...&lt;br/&gt;
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The word sorry is so abused these days that people no longer mean it when they say, like ‘sorry we are...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~4/YXDA20JPO_c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://salilravindran.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-am-sorry-are-you-sorry.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>You da man, Maveli</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~3/kd5LxJlK5mU/you-da-man-maveli.html</link><category>Occassions and Festivals</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Salil)</author><pubDate>Wed, 13 May 2009 14:14:00 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1717253577330059991.post-8069563472607424957</guid><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-13T14:14:00.945-07:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IpNSqoqflhE/SMp2bIXn_EI/AAAAAAAABmo/NU0jJoyAYvk/s72-c/onam-2007-greeting-card%5B1%5D.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">33</thr:total><description>[Legend has it that Maveli, aka Mahabali, ruled the state of Kerala in India, and was renowned for the justice and goodness of his rule. As Maveli was an asura (demon), devas (divine) felt threatened...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~4/kd5LxJlK5mU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://salilravindran.blogspot.com/2008/09/you-da-man-maveli.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>I Don't Forget Anniversaries</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~3/guJHbWGEdcg/memory-is-what-tells-man-his-wedding.html</link><category>My Better three-fourth</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Salil)</author><pubDate>Thu, 04 Sep 2008 17:59:57 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1717253577330059991.post-820448439559495656</guid><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-09-04T17:59:57.035-07:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IpNSqoqflhE/SMB8zmvspsI/AAAAAAAABmA/VeampR_OzO4/s72-c/48477-another-anniversary.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">44</thr:total><description>“Memory is what tells a man his wedding anniversary was yesterday”

Today is my marriage anniversary. I have been married for n years (I won’t tell you the value of n as it is a very large number and...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~4/guJHbWGEdcg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://salilravindran.blogspot.com/2008/09/memory-is-what-tells-man-his-wedding.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>I suffer from Shopophobia Mallfeorosis</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~3/nKbUUTV07MM/i-suffer-from-shopophobia-mallfeorosis.html</link><category>Problems and Worries</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Salil)</author><pubDate>Sun, 26 Jul 2009 18:29:45 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1717253577330059991.post-2100335826370310474</guid><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-26T18:29:45.235-07:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_IpNSqoqflhE/SLdHGeF_CDI/AAAAAAAABlY/zPJJ4lLf0L0/s72-c/shopping%2520trolley.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">23</thr:total><description>We used to build civilizations. Now we build shopping malls. – Bill Bryson

Shopping as an activity was something that did not exist in my life for a very long time. When I was a kid I used to jump...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~4/nKbUUTV07MM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://salilravindran.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-suffer-from-shopophobia-mallfeorosis.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>My Marriage to Aishwarya Ray</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~3/3Bq66ESxofg/my-marriage-to-aishwarya-ray.html</link><category>'Dream' Series</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Salil)</author><pubDate>Sun, 24 Aug 2008 09:30:03 PDT</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1717253577330059991.post-7573906380042435365</guid><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-08-24T09:30:03.239-07:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IpNSqoqflhE/SK8U-YUFV1I/AAAAAAAABh8/9UdT-wC7ZDU/s72-c/Aishwarya+Rai4.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">18</thr:total><description>I married Aishwarya Ray (Aish) last month yielding to her relentless request. Little did I know at that time what was in store for me!

Within the first week of our marriage, I faced death threats...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~4/3Bq66ESxofg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://salilravindran.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-marriage-to-aishwarya-ray.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>A Letter from Death</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~3/UdL0oGGI5Us/letter-from-death.html</link><category>Philosophical and Profound</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Salil)</author><pubDate>Sat, 09 Jan 2010 13:00:56 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1717253577330059991.post-4215869348195148185</guid><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-09T13:00:56.161-08:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IpNSqoqflhE/SKiadRmdZsI/AAAAAAAABh0/H0kVCaIypZw/s72-c/Death.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">12</thr:total><description>“When you were born, you cried, and the world rejoiced.
Live your life in such a manner that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice – Kabir”

Hi,

I am death.

If you are scared of me, I...&lt;br/&gt;
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I am a ‘proud’ Indian today, thanks to Abhinav Bindra. But then, am I?

India is the seventh...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~4/j_8kz88B04c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://salilravindran.blogspot.com/2008/08/does-tendulkar-have-best-timing.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>What's cooking?</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~3/GRHtlY9RDck/s.html</link><category>Life's Experiences</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Salil)</author><pubDate>Tue, 09 Dec 2008 08:25:39 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1717253577330059991.post-5114508002044268120</guid><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-12-09T08:25:39.948-08:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IpNSqoqflhE/SJKJPPASfQI/AAAAAAAABgg/7HfSkpZPd0E/s72-c/IMG_0026.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">9</thr:total><description>This blog is going to be a shock for people who know me well. My wife had a mild heart attack and other family members are still laughing so hard that we are contemplating medical measures.

Cooking,...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~4/GRHtlY9RDck" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://salilravindran.blogspot.com/2008/07/s.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>The Power of Mmmmm…..</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~3/At7iOT7Vt38/power-of-mmmmm_30.html</link><category>Philosophical and Profound</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Salil)</author><pubDate>Sat, 09 Jan 2010 13:01:11 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1717253577330059991.post-1328575410201571891</guid><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-01-09T13:01:11.713-08:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_IpNSqoqflhE/SJFKHBh4cJI/AAAAAAAABgA/CIZBzIuS7jM/s72-c/IMG_1971.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><description>Whoever thinks that the sound mmmmm….. (increasing in pitch) is just that, a sound mmmmm…..., is hugely mistaken.

My daughter, Niharika, who is now one year and five months old, has started talking...&lt;br/&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~4/At7iOT7Vt38" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://salilravindran.blogspot.com/2008/07/power-of-mmmmm_30.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><title>Where Left is Not Right</title><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/SALILR/~3/kkzVd_fguSE/where-left-is-not-right.html</link><category>Life's Experiences</category><author>noreply@blogger.com (Salil)</author><pubDate>Tue, 09 Dec 2008 08:25:40 PST</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1717253577330059991.post-2689947980328719810</guid><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-12-09T08:25:40.434-08:00</app:edited><media:thumbnail url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IpNSqoqflhE/SJP9jPQzU0I/AAAAAAAABgo/ftu4JfJz6YQ/s72-c/Net.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><description>I got my US license in April after almost a month of driving. And within the first couple of weeks of getting my license, I managed to get my first ticket.

It was 6 am and I assure you folks I was...&lt;br/&gt;
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