<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863</id><updated>2009-11-06T17:03:15.434-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Euphonical</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>77</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-1424290394583308019</id><published>2009-11-06T17:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T17:03:15.441-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school days'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nostalgia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memory'/><title type='text'>Mellow rays of memory</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She might be around 12 years old… slim and beautiful…. with sleepy eyes, loosely tied hair, a heavy school bag on her shoulder and clad in a coffee brown pinafore with cream inner shirt…. a typical school girl. She lazily boarded the bus and with her droopy eyes she started exploring for a vacant seat. She was apprehensively eyeing the vacant seat next to me and slowly took a step forward but retraced nabbing her purpose at the last moment. She turned towards me, still fighting with her cerebrations and I gestured her to sit down. She sat down beside me but with great dubiety. The weariness due to a draggy day at school might have impelled her to make the decision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She was not young enough to be my daughter and was not old enough to be my sister but I felt a similar bond with her. A fond regard which was unaccountable. The air around her, her slender arms with tiddly hairs, her visible cares of sitting with a man, the way she clumsily moved her head, her hand kerchief stained with blue ink, her uniform, the belt and the black shoes….. reminded me of the girls in my school days. I felt a sudden urge to go back to my school and to be with my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the short journey, I remembered all my friends in school- boys and girls, who were once an inherent part of my life.. whom I had gradually lost in the flux of time. I remembered everything… the small fights and quarrels, the pranks- on friends, teachers and all those who came by, the competitions- academic, curricular and extra curricular, the fests- house day, school day, sports day etc, the modest celebrations for Onam and Christmas, the treats for birthdays, the tensions of exams, the exultations and pain of results, the vacations, the rides in school bus, the thrill and anguish of being in love, the rules that were so tempting to be broken, the pangs of bidding adieu…. etc etc….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I sat beside the lovely girl and I felt as if I was back to the old halcyon school days. Such small instances can bring fond and warm memories of the bygone era. Though nostalgic, I felt so refreshed and happy too… inadvertently this little girl has made my day!!!! &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/8770483152945279863-1424290394583308019?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/1424290394583308019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=1424290394583308019' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/1424290394583308019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/1424290394583308019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/11/mellow-rays-of-memory.html' title='Mellow rays of memory'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-275455480602936703</id><published>2009-11-04T10:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T10:49:53.274-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alpine dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alpine Apollo butterfly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amma'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='butterfly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>My Alpine Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It was one of the smallest mountains in the Eastern Alps. The ever stretching vegetation of oak trees and Scots pine was a treat to watch and it was like a dream come true for me. I had been traveling a lot and I wasn’t sure which country I was in… might be Switzerland or Austria. But I was feeling very much at home and I thanked my geography teacher for giving me such well-chiseled picture of these geographical areas that I never felt like in a unknown territory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It was cold but dry and the gentle cold breeze flowing through the pine trees made a sweet whistle. I was on a special mission this time…. to take some candid shots of Alpine Apollo butterfly. Among the 20,000 species of butterflies inhabiting this vast earth…..I was wondering why I was attracted towards this particular creature. The reason might be my extreme liking for white colour or my liking for coddlers… like the spots that spoiled the purity of its wings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I walked through the grove of pine trees to reach a small stretch of scrubland and was hoping for my catch there. These meadows were known to be the abode of such beautiful faunae. And as Google says “I’m feeling lucky” … I was also feeling lucky that day. A kaleidoscope of Appolo butterflies where fluttering on a tiny shrublet nearby. I had always kept the camera ready for any unforeseen action. I rested myself on the ground and adjusted my camera lens. And at that point of time my whole world was focussed on those tiny but beautiful creatures. The perfect frame was set and my brain initiated a signal to my index finger. I was about to click the best shot of my life…. but somebody shook me so hard that my camera slipped off from my hand. I was so furious and taken aback. I turned around to find out the culprit who spoiled my pricey shot. It was a very familiar face…….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Get up!!! Today is Monday.You have to go to office today, right???” Amma shouted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“You spoiled my precious shot… Amma” I complained. “And where is my camera??” I asked… still searching on the bed for my lost camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“What camera??? It might be in your cupboard” She said, hiding her shock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Get ready to go to office… you are already late” She continued and left my room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I got up from my bed and stretched myself to get rid of the cramps. As I was about to get out of my room, I overheard the hushed voice of Amma… complaining to dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“He is very disturbed and has a lot of bad dreams these days. We should consult some astrologer and get a solution for this. I think its a very bad time for him…. Oh God….please take care of him!!!!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I retraced my steps and went back to bed wondering about the effect my “Alpine dream” had on my mom….!!!!!&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/8770483152945279863-275455480602936703?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/275455480602936703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=275455480602936703' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/275455480602936703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/275455480602936703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-alpine-dream.html' title='My Alpine Dream'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-6885013988800584767</id><published>2009-11-04T10:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T10:47:29.629-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cheat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tomorrow is falser than the former day'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='John Dryden'/><title type='text'>Tomorrow is falser than the former day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;“When I consider life, ’tis all a cheat. Yet, fooled by hope, men favour the deceit; trust on, and think to-morrow will repay: to-morrow’s falser than the former day.” – John Dryden&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/8770483152945279863-6885013988800584767?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/6885013988800584767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=6885013988800584767' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/6885013988800584767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/6885013988800584767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/11/tomorrow-is-falser-than-former-day.html' title='Tomorrow is falser than the former day'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-5552744709259650862</id><published>2009-11-04T10:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T10:50:49.217-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lost love'/><title type='text'>Every bubble bursts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ritz Plaza&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;Room No: 263&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I opened the teak finish wooden door of Room No: 263 and held it open for her to walk in. She softly brushed past my body and I slowly followed her in, locking the door from inside. The room was small but bore an expensive look with the white satin bed cover, matching pillow covers and embroidered curtains. As I walked in, I looked around the room. A wooden cot, a wardrobe with mirror, a coffee table and two chairs were the only furniture in the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Worth Rs 1600“, I thought, recollecting the advance I payed to the fat feminine guy at the counter. I had thoughtfully ignored his inquiring glance when I signed the check-in register.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I stood at the doorway admiring the worthiness of the money I spent and completely forgetting the presence of another person in the room. She was comfortably seated on the bed with her hand resting on her bag. I looked at her and realized how beautiful she looked in the peacock blue salwar and light blue shawl. I remember the day when she wore it for the first time. It was on her 21st birthday and her father had gifted this dress to her. That was two years ago and she still looked the same- cute and beautiful. She is Sruthi, my landlord’s daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I couldn’t believe that I was with Sruthi in a hotel room and that too in her home city. It was just one hour before when I got a call from her. I was in the office preparing for a client presentation. She said she wanted to spent some time with me in the evening and I readily obliged because she never had the habit of making such wishes. I made up some reasons and left the office to meet her. She was waiting for me at the bus stop near my office and in fifteen minutes I picked her up from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She was unusually silent when she sat next to me in the car. I asked her whether she had some plans for the evening. She shook her head and said that she had left her home in the afternoon saying that she was going back to her hostel. She was doing her Post Graduation in a college which was 100 Kms from here. Since it was already getting dark, there was no chance of her travelling 100 Kms at this time. That was it. She wanted to spend the night with me and I have to make arrangements now. I cannot take her to my place because I was living on the 1st floor of her own house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Lesson: Don’t fall in love with your land lord’s daughter because you won’t have your own space to spent time with her. I always learn things in the hard way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I had to find a place stay… a safe place to take her with me. I called a friend to ask his opinion and made up some stories saying that my friend and family are visiting the city and I have to arrange for their stay. He suggested to check in at Ritz Plaza which is beyond the city limits and on the way to the beach. I thanked him and thanked myself for calling the right guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It was drizzling as I drove in to the parking lot of Ritz Plaza. I went straight to the fat feminine guy at the counter and motioned Sruthi to occupy the vacant couch at the lobby. I paid the advance, signed the register and silently cursed the rules for making me enter my full name and address for checking in. The front office guy looked straight at my face as he gave the key to Room No: 263.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Rahul, where are you?” Sruthi quizzed. I was awakened from my thoughts and Sruthi was standing near me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Oh yeah. I was just thinking” I answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Thinking about what?” She asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Why did you cancel your trip today?” I asked eventhough I knew what her answer was. But I wanted to hear from her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“I wanted to spend some time with you and to talk to you” She answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Ok. But why so urgent?” I enquired just to make her lose temper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Why? Did I disturb you?” She asked and made a face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“No, No. But see where we ended up….. in a hotel room” I said mocking displeasure in my voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She remained silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We had our rare intimate moments together in her house when her parents were not around. I used to take leave from office on those days during her vacation when her parents were not in the house. So being together was not a new thing for us. But that was in the safety of her own house unlike this hotel room. And I need to confess that this was my first experience staying in a hotel with a girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;My last question had an inverse effect on her and she remained silent for another couple of minutes. I went towards her and sat beside her on the bed. I put my hands around her and gently pulled her towards me. She rested her head on my shoulder as I kissed on her forehead. I looked at her and saw her eyes gleaming. Did I see a tear drop…???? No… I guess!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Do you love me?” She asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Yes my dear. I love you” I said and kissed her quivering lips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;She clung to me as we descended on the bed and made love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It was after midnight when I came back to my senses. She was lying on my arms and I had a bad cramp due to her weight. I tried to pull my hand without disturbing her but in vain. My action woke her up and she crawled away from me. I got up from the bed and went to the bath room and had a warm shower. When I came back she was sitting on the bed crossed legged and motioned me to sit beside her. I obeyed her like a child. She pulled me towards her and I rested my head on her lap. She had done this before….. whenever she had to discuss something serious. So I was all ears for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“You know Vinod?” She asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Who?” I enquired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Vinod….Sankar uncle’s son who is a Scientist in ISRO. You have seen him when they visited our home, right?” She asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Yeah. Whats with Vinod?” I quizzed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Silence followed. And after a couple of minutes she said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“My parents have fixed my marriage with Vinod”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“What?????” I sprang up from her lap and shouted. “You never told me….”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“I had told you that something is fishy…..when they came to visit us last week. It wasn’t a usual visit. I had smelled a rat and had informed you. After that visit my parents were explaining to me a lot about that guy as if I don’t know him. They even asked me whether I like him or not” She explained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“And remember what you said….. you said that it was just my feeling and there was nothing wrong????” She continued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Yeah. But how did it all happen so suddenly?” I quizzed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“My parents went to Sankar uncle’s place today morning and came back with this happy news” She said sarcastically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Vinod has to go for an official trip to Turkey and they wanted this marriage to happen before that” She continued.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I was hell shocked and was walking up and down in the room. I was devastated. I never knew I would have to face this so soon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“You want me to talk to your parents??” I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Its so late. My father have already given a word and he wont differ. Only way left is to elope with you. Which I cannot do since I don’t’ want to my parents to be unhappy and suffer because of me.” She said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“What about me? What about our happiness? Will you be happy without me?” I shouted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“You will forget me soon. Same might be the case with me as well” She said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“But…” She cut me short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Anyway you never wanted any commitments, right? You always wanted to be a free bird and now why are you reacting like this?” She questioned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“But I love you and I was feeling so complete with you……” I tried to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Lets not talk about it Rahul. Its Over and I wanted to let you know” She said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;There was a long stint of silence before I talked conveying a false sense of guilt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Why didn’t you tell me this when we met today? You should have told this when we came in to this hotel at least”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“No. I wanted you today and I realize that I wont have you anymore. I wanted all the happiness together and wanted you to experience that too. I wanted our relationship to be complete lest I regret in the future” She explained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The conversation came to a dead end. There was no more questions and explanations. It was like everything came to a stand still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I looked at my watch. It was 5:30 in the morning. I got up from the bed and dressed up and she followed. We vacated the room and got in to the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Where should I drop you?” I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“In the bus station. I am going back to college” She said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I didn’t reply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;After a brief silence I asked “When is your wedding?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“End of this month” She said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So soon….. I thought. So these are the last few moments. In five minutes she will be on her way and I wont get another chance to call her back. I was feeling the pangs of losing my love. But my inner self was forcing me to remain silent and I obliged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Dad will personally invite you and you should be there to bless me” She laughed sardonically. But I ignored her sarcasm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Soon we reached the bus stand and I stopped the car. As she got out of the car I asked&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Where is the venue of your marriage function?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Oh Sorry. I forgot to tell you. Its in the banquet hall of the same hotel Ritz plaza” She smiled and walked towards the bus station.&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/8770483152945279863-5552744709259650862?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/5552744709259650862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=5552744709259650862' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/5552744709259650862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/5552744709259650862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/11/every-bubble-bursts.html' title='Every bubble bursts'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-4526094793909482176</id><published>2009-11-04T10:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T10:45:24.352-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='midnight trips'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lunacy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='haphazard thoughts | Tags: insanity'/><title type='text'>Insanity</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The midnight ride in Oscar’s car ‘Hyundai i20′ is a routine affair for me. We travel together after the graveyard shift and he drops me near my lodge which is 5 kilometers away from our office. These trips extend to the city bus station on weekends, from where I take a bus back to my home town. I have followed this modus operandi for more than a year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was another such usual trip during last weekend. Oscar was guiding the car down the empty four lane and Osbern was playing with the FM stations at the rate of one station per second. I was tired and sleepy and wanted to hit the bed as soon as possible. But the realization that it would take another 4 hours for my wish to be granted, increased my weariness. The comfortable air conditioning inside the car was forcing my eye lids to droop and I was slowly yielding to the “Korean” comforts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was suddenly woken up by a loud noise from the radio. Osbern had tuned the radio frequency to a no signal channel which caused the sudden commotion. I looked around. We had almost reached the city bus stand where I was bound to alight. Oscar halted the car near the bus station entry and I slowly and lazily climbed out of the car and from its comforts. I waved them good bye and walked towards the bus bay thinking about the long and tiresome journey back home. The Korean comfort and KSRTC comfort are two contrasting things that I usually experience in a short span of time. This forced me to make a futile decision to buy a Korean comfort or at least an Indian one…. a futile decision ofcourse…. and I make such decisions every&lt;br /&gt;minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since it was Diwali weekend the buses parked in the station were crowded with passengers heading to their home for this festival. During normal weekends, there will be hardly ten passengers in a fifty seater super fast bus and I usually get the liberty to choose the most comfortable seat among the vacant lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My limbs started aching and I searched for a&amp;nbsp; bench to sit and relax till the arrival of the next bus to my destination. There was no vacant space left in any of the benches and I cursed my luck for this buggered night. At last I&lt;br /&gt;decided to lean on a crumbled wall at a corner on the bus bay and I unburdened the growing heaviness from my shoulder and rested the bag on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And suddenly a strange thing caught my attention. About twenty meters away from me, a shabbily dressed man with long hair was making a loud speech. His countenance and the ruckus he created was a clear testimony of his mental condition. He appeared like a psycho from all angles. Since I had nothing to do but wait for the bus, I decided to heed an ear to this strange man’s speech. He was shouting aloud and that was slowly drawing everybody’s attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I had three beautiful daughters….. its not anyone’s fault that all the three were brutally raped… they paid the price for being beautiful….. b*t*hes…..!!!!” and he laughed aloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I am a Christian and I married her, who is from a lower caste, thinking that she will love me…. I fought with my parents just for her…… and one day she admitted that all the three daughters were not my kids….. and you know what…. I hacked her to death” He continued to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You know why these people are attacked everywhere??” He shouted pointing at the ladies sitting in the waiting room. “Its because these b*t*hes are beautiful” and he laughed again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly his topic changed. “Buses bound to Delhi and Bombay have just departed and all the f**k*rs who missed the bus have to stay back in Kochi till morning and have to listen to me“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again he went back to the old topic and repeated the same story. “I had three beautiful daughters…..“&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was slowly losing all his audience who were waiting for the rest of his story but they were putting on an act as if they were not interested. It took another half an hour for my bus to arrive and during this interval, he repeated the same story innumerable times without even a slight variation in his tone or his words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I boarded the bus….. and was amused at myself and the whole bunch of people who were listening to this man…. Who is more insane?? The man or the set of people including me who listened to him…..??? Lunacy and insaneness needs to be defined here….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the bus departed, I looked at him through the glass window…. he had a new lot of audience listening to him….!!!!!&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/8770483152945279863-4526094793909482176?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/4526094793909482176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=4526094793909482176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/4526094793909482176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/4526094793909482176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/11/insanity.html' title='Insanity'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-47541979850541964</id><published>2009-11-04T10:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T10:43:50.014-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='unconditional love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lost love'/><title type='text'>Unconditional love</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Your silent prayers&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; and your love&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; always reflects in me&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; the joy of being alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; You loved and you lost&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; but you never fell back&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; still revives the warmth and&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; the delight of being in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Even in a puddle of grief&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; you smile so heartily&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; reminds me evermore&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; the might of being angelic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Never to rue and regret&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; you taught me so well&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; and I cohere by your insights&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; to learn the art of being you!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-47541979850541964?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/47541979850541964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=47541979850541964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/47541979850541964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/47541979850541964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/11/unconditional-love.html' title='Unconditional love'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-497753521281426990</id><published>2009-11-04T10:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T10:42:26.139-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='strange message'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='phone call'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fiction'/><title type='text'>A Strange Message</title><content type='html'>I was woken up by the techno beats of my new ring tone. With out opening my eyes I explored for the phone on my bed… got hold of it and attended the call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hello”, I said somnolently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hello” said a hushed voice on the other end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Can you be a bit more louder???” I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he kept his flaccid tone and I felt more irritated.&lt;br /&gt;“You have just 60 minutes left to get up from your bed, dress up and be present at the meeting place” he articulated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What meeting place?” I shouted. “I don’t know you and I am not going to come anywhere!!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He laughed and said “You will come”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I wont!!!” I exclaimed. “I have nothing to do with you. You can try this trick on somebody else.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He kept his prevalent tone and said “It’s better for you that you believe me. I am not going to do you any harm. I want to help you”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t need anybody’s help and I am happy the way I am. I have a job, I have a happy family and many friends for company” “What else do I need. I am happy!!” I shouted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He let out a mild sarcastic laugh and said “Are you??”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was losing my patience.&lt;br /&gt;“Yes I am” I iterated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You say that you have everything and you claim to be happy with the things you have… right?” he asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I am not claiming. I am happy”, I said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He sighed and said “So you are not unhappy about your boss… you are not unhappy about your job…. you are not unhappy about lack of money….. you are not unhappy about not giving your parents a better standard of living…. you are not unhappy about your health… you are not unhappy about love….. you are not unhappy about your inability to buy a new house or a car….”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Stop it!!!”, I shouted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why?? Am I wrong anywhere??” He laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You are……. not wrong!!! But you are not right either” I tried to hide the vexation in my voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So you say that I am right in my discernment” He asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t answer. This guy was making me think. His assessment was more or less correct. No….. He was 100% correct. I just surfed through my memory lane to find that such infelicitous material things haunted me always. But I never wanted to admit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why?? Am I right my boy???” He asked again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, you are!!” I said with much hesitance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Good. Since you agree, just get up from your bed and start moving. Remember you have just 57 minutes left” He said in an affectionate tone and disconnected the call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up holding the phone in my hand and I realized that it was the snooze function of the alarm that woke me up. The alarm had sounded 3 minutes before and that was what I misunderstood as the incoming phone call. But the voice and the conversation were still dogging in my mind and I couldn’t believe that there was no such call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I searched my call list and found that there were no incoming calls in the morning. But there was a memo on the phone’s desktop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memo:&lt;br /&gt;Interview @ 9:00 am&lt;br /&gt;Wake up… You lazy boy!&lt;br /&gt;Love. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Infact, I had planned to skip this interview merely out of laziness. I checked the time and was shocked to find that the time was 8:03 am…. exactly 57 minutes to the scheduled interview. And believe me……. I never kept such a memo!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-497753521281426990?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/497753521281426990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=497753521281426990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/497753521281426990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/497753521281426990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/11/strange-message.html' title='A Strange Message'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-8304086376530409331</id><published>2009-10-02T06:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T06:11:46.088-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='austerity drive'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='congress party'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='power politics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='holy cows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shashi Tharoor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cattle class'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Twitter'/><title type='text'>Look before you tweet</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;" class="snap_preview"&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have started “tweeting” these days but I am not an ardent follower of this micro blogging engine- twitter. Might be because I find it very unwieldy to express myself in 140 characters. But I follow close to 300 people in this social networking champ. Some of them are my friends, some business related and some are eminent personalities and celebrities. One among them is Dr. Shashi Tharoor, Honourable Minister of State for External Affairs. I used to follow his tweets very closely and soon became a big fan of his short, sweet, meaningful and mirthful tweets. I was hopeful that at least through him the Indian politicians will learn to become more liberal and modern in their approach. But it was not so…… &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;As expected in Indian politics, he soon ran in to troubled waters for his tweets. His tweet that he would travel “cattle class in solidarity with all our holy cows” which came in the backdrop of an austerity drive in the Government was hugely rebuked by the Congress party. The power greedy party leaders were trying all the tricks in the trade to throw Dr. Tharoor out of the Ministry. But some how he had a narrow escape this time….. might be because the Party President and the PM could understand the “wit in the tweet”. I think the tweet was just a humorous expression which meant no disrespect to anybody.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;However, the comments in various online news sites were far beyond humour. Some comments from the readers of these news portals were urging and advocating to crucify Dr. Tharoor for his wit. Terrible I would say…. because I could not find another word to express my dissent against such ignorant people who tries to find fault with every other guy they meet.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Here I am biased in my thoughts… I like Dr. Tharoor, not as a congress leader but as a prolific author, a columnist and journalist, a humanitarian and human-rights advocate. I have read many of his books and I am a fan of his writing. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Now with this incident, Dr. Tharoor would have got a taste of Indian politics and hope that this won’t lock his key board and his activities. Expecting more of his services to our country and to its people…. and also more tweets as well!!!!! &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;The lesson learned here is “Look before you tweet!!!!!” for I fear that you will become a scape goat of power politics!!!!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-8304086376530409331?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/8304086376530409331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=8304086376530409331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/8304086376530409331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/8304086376530409331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/10/look-before-you-tweet.html' title='Look before you tweet'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-3289664988934234315</id><published>2009-10-02T06:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T06:10:57.945-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ASEAN treaty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Manmohan Singh'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Protests'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Left Comrades'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Prime Minister'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Government'/><title type='text'>ASEAN Treaty, Rum &amp; The hanging</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;" class="snap_preview"&gt;&lt;p&gt;On my way to office yesterday evening, I witnessed a freakish and bizarre incident. The effigy of our Prime Minister, Dr. Manmohan Singh, was being hanged by the left comrades in protest against the ASEAN Treaty (better known as “aasiyaan karaar” here). This was followed by a 2 wheeler procession with comrades carrying red flags and shouting slogans against the Government and ASEAN Treaty. Such processions and protests are a common sight in Kerala and I was least amused. But hanging the PM’s effigy is far beyond logic and is quite unpardonable. Dr. Singh is one of the widely accepted and popular leaders of all times. Moreover, he is a great academician and economist, a zealous leader, a thorough gentleman and the architect of reforms in India. He should at least be respected for all his virtues and merits rather than hanging him for a collective decision made by the Government.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I am not biased in my political stands but I could not help but show my dissent, at least through this forum, against such flagitious acts. It reminds me that anything is possible in a democracy. And mind you….. in God’s own country you can gather 50 people to protest or for support at any time, provided you offer them a bottle of “Javan” rum, a plate of chicken biriyani and Rs 100 in cash. The rum component of the wage not only justifies the ear shattering slogans but also all the heinous “hanging” acts!!!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-3289664988934234315?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/3289664988934234315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=3289664988934234315' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/3289664988934234315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/3289664988934234315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/10/asean-treaty-rum-hanging.html' title='ASEAN Treaty, Rum &amp; The hanging'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-7620141931081906463</id><published>2009-09-18T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.812-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='manorama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='potency test'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pre marital medical tests'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='haphazard thoughts'/><title type='text'>Potency test</title><content type='html'>&lt;img src="http://euphonical.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/venus-n-mars.gif" alt="venus n mars" title="venus n mars" width="150" height="150" class="alignright size-full wp-image-327" /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Last week, I read an interesting article in an online news site about making potency test mandatory for couples. The news site was quoting Veteran Tamil actress Manorama's statement in this regard. She cited that potency test should be made mandatory for all couples before getting married and that medical certificates should be produced to prove it. This is applicable to both the sexes.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Such a rule will have pros and cons for sure. The potency test or fertility test done on women may lead to dire aftermaths like testing a woman's virginity and also testing her maturity to get married. But an HIV test prior to marriage should be welcomed with warm applause. I dont know whether such a rule is realizable at the present time or in the near future and also I am skeptical about the extend to which such a rule will prove to be useful. Moreover, like in every other practice in this country, this may also end up in issuance of bogus certificates by corrupt medical practitioners.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Anyway.... I wont be surprised to see some new key words adorning the matrimony columns in the near future......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-7620141931081906463?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/7620141931081906463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=7620141931081906463' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/7620141931081906463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/7620141931081906463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/09/potency-test.html' title='Potency test'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-7095462408856505628</id><published>2009-09-16T10:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.790-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Quotes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='deepak chopra'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Love is a mirror</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;"When you fall in love, you fall for a mirror of your own most present needs" – Deepak Chopra&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-7095462408856505628?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/7095462408856505628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=7095462408856505628' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/7095462408856505628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/7095462408856505628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/09/love-is-mirror.html' title='Love is a mirror'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-5463587183372645703</id><published>2009-09-01T13:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.708-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='onam offers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='onam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sale'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LCD TV'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='haphazard thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='advertisement'/><title type='text'>Onam Shopping</title><content type='html'>&lt;img class="alignright size-medium wp-image-313" title="onam" src="http://euphonical.files.wordpress.com/2009/09/onam.jpg?w=300" alt="onam" width="300" height="240" /&gt;Onam- the harvest festival of Kerala is now in its full swing. Malayalees who take pride in their rich cultural heritage celebrate this festival with pomp and in full spirits. Its a vibrant festival of colours, joy and prosperity. Every malayalee makes grand arrangements to welcome the virtuous and legendary King Mahabali aka Maveli under whose reign Kerala witnessed its golden era.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Onam season is the peak time of consumer goods business in Kerala. Every manufacturer and retailer comes up with a variety of offers during this season. Right from vegetables to home appliances..... from cars and bikes to flats and apartments, every business tries all the tricks in the trade to woo the customer. In cochin, this onam season was marked by the offers made by two of the most popular retail brand shops for home appliances. The super star of this seson was LCD televisions. Both the shops advertised the price of 32" LCD TV to be starting from Rs 21K. This rekindled my desire (which I had rested long ago due to exorbitant prices) to buy an LCD television and surprise my parents when I get back home during Onam holidays. So I decided to visit both the shops to compare and buy the super star of this season.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;In the first shop, I was welcomed by an corpulent guy dressed as the great Mahabali. His costumes and body shape were such that even the greatest enemy of Mahabali will drop his head in shame. As I was scorning at the looks of the caricature, the so called "traffic controller" of the shop gave me a cold look and he asked me to park my vehicle properly to avoid further hoo-hahs. Thats when I realized that I had blocked the way to the parking lot. It took me close to 20 minutes and 100% effort to find a place to park my vehicle.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I entered the huge showroom and was balled over by the size of the crowd which occupied every nook and corner of the huge floor. Before I could recover from my shock, I was brisked away by a sales person and he took me to the section where LCD TVs were displayed. He started giving me a lecture on the brands that were displayed on the stands. I asked him specifically for the brand that was available for 21K. But he continued with his script. Every 5 minutes I reminded him about the 21K product and he conveniently ignored my question by demoing the best TVs available. Soon I lost my temper and demanded him to show me the TV that was advertised. He tried to convince me that the particular TV does not have long life and that the sound quality is poor. I again demanded to see the model and when my pestering went beyond the limits he told me that the TV was out of stock. I asked him why it was advertised in that day's newspaper if there was no stock. He admitted that it was a trick to pull the crowd in. And at last I questioned him whether such a TV is available in the market at all. He smiled. That was it!!! I walked out of the showroom cursing myself for falling in for such advertisements!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I never bothered to visit the other showroom at all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;And guess what..... I decided to watch all the Onam programmes on my old 21" CTV....!!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pic courtesy: Internet &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-5463587183372645703?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/5463587183372645703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=5463587183372645703' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/5463587183372645703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/5463587183372645703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/09/onam-shopping.html' title='Onam Shopping'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-4548626047303027370</id><published>2009-08-21T11:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.698-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Malayalam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nin mukham'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='remembrance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poems'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='malayalam poem'/><title type='text'>Nin mukham..... oru orma kurippu</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A very old poem..... just a fond remembrance!!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Ennum ennum ente kinaavil&lt;br/&gt;odi ethunnu nin mukham&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;thazhuki ozhuki aa thaazhvarayil&lt;br/&gt;ninte maathram pon mukham&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;unarenda aa kinaavil ninnum enne&lt;br/&gt;unarthalle madhura swapnathil ninnum&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;sundaramaam aa thaazhvarayil&lt;br/&gt;ente nizhalaayi nee ninnu&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;sundariyaam nee enne&lt;br/&gt;karavalayathil pothinju&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;ente praananaayi nee&lt;br/&gt;aathmaavil kudiyirunnu&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;ennum ennum ente kinaavil&lt;br/&gt;odi ethunnu nin mukham&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;thazhuki ozhuki aa thaazhvarayil&lt;br/&gt;ninte maathram pon mukham...!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-4548626047303027370?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/4548626047303027370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=4548626047303027370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/4548626047303027370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/4548626047303027370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/08/nin-mukham-oru-orma-kurippu.html' title='Nin mukham..... oru orma kurippu'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-1890695097690596632</id><published>2009-08-08T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-08T18:26:44.451-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='euphonical. wordpress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='zahir'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sujeeth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wounded'/><title type='text'>I'm in wordpress!!</title><content type='html'>Hi everybody..... I have migrated to wordpress. Please visit www.euphonical.wordpress.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your support is always invaluable!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-1890695097690596632?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/1890695097690596632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=1890695097690596632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/1890695097690596632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/1890695097690596632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-in-wordpress.html' title='I&apos;m in wordpress!!'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-3454288270118883994</id><published>2009-08-06T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.662-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cutting edge'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boss'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='leverage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='office'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jargons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='core competencies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='salary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='haphazard thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sales'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='key words'/><title type='text'>The Grass Is Always Greener on the Other Side of the Fence</title><content type='html'>&lt;img class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-308" title="depressed-man" src="http://euphonical.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/depressed-man.jpg?w=300" alt="depressed-man" width="300" height="280" /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I work in a conventional Indian IT firm where strategies- sans logic- are born every other minute and real work flashes in a New York minute..... that too just occasionally!! Everyday I learn to leverage the available resources and strategize ways to generate the- so called- sustainable business.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;My boss emphasizes the need to orient and align with the goals of the Organization and that each customer should be a qualified lead. Closings are always important but one should also keep in mind all those aspects and work towards building potential clients and relationships which can be leveraged to generate revenue opportunities and to meet our business objectives.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I wonder how many jargons and key words do I come across everyday. Some are repetitions, some are new and most modern, some are archaic and primitive. I wonder how I cope up with delivering all those elevated sales pitches that my boss insists. Sometimes hearing these jargons make me feel sick. Sometimes it makes me think. And sometimes I share it with my friends and laugh my lungs out or do it in the urban dictionary way..... "&lt;em&gt;ROFLMAOSHISMP&lt;/em&gt;"*!!!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I wonder why I am made to attend meetings with people who are paid twice and thrice my salary. In those sessions, I am impelled to answer all those questions, give explanations and feel the same pressure those guys go through. I am supposed to behave in a matured manner and am paid peanuts for going through all those blackjacks. For peanuts you will only get monkeys to work for you..... am I am one of those.....!!!! But I hate peanuts.... for sure!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I think its time to "leverage" my "cutting edge" "core competencies" for "sustainable" and "exponential" gains to raise the crowd eye brows!!!!! :-)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;The Grass Is Always Greener on the Other Side of the Fence!!!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;*&lt;em&gt;ROFLMAOSHISMP- Rolling on floor laughing my ass off so hard I shit my pants!!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-3454288270118883994?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/3454288270118883994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=3454288270118883994' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/3454288270118883994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/3454288270118883994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/08/grass-is-always-greener-on-other-side.html' title='The Grass Is Always Greener on the Other Side of the Fence'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-840863603020368216</id><published>2009-07-20T17:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.606-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='puppy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='smile'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blonde pole dancer'/><title type='text'>Blonde pole dancer</title><content type='html'>&lt;img class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-303" title="blonde pole dancer" src="http://euphonical.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/blonde-pole-dancer1.jpg?w=225" alt="blonde pole dancer" width="225" height="300" /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Smile - It's the second best thing you can do with your lips.”&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-840863603020368216?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/840863603020368216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=840863603020368216' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/840863603020368216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/840863603020368216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/07/blonde-pole-dancer.html' title='Blonde pole dancer'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-7716858660895011966</id><published>2009-07-10T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.580-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fag'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sprain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coffee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='temptations'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='puffs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='aerobics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='newspaper'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='morning walk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tata docomo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='haphazard thoughts'/><title type='text'>My tryst with temptations</title><content type='html'>&lt;img class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-296" title="puff" src="http://euphonical.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/puff.jpg?w=300" alt="puff" width="300" height="225" /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I woke up today with a sprained neck that reduced my head movement to just 90 degrees. I opened the front door to find the newspaper drenched in the rain. The morning discomfort was aggravated when I realized that the newspaper boy have taken the authority to replace the newspaper with the one I hated the most. I put the newspaper aside and searched for a morning fag and was delighted to find a lonely one in a packet behind the book shelf. Little did I know that I lacked the most needed ammunition to light the above said loner. The search for the match box continued for close to 15 minutes. I tried every trick in the trade to arc fire from the grandfather lighters which were just the remnants of their past dutiful souls. At last..... I left the urge to rest!!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I put on the sneakers and went out to the deserted road for the morning walk. The rain started abruptly nipping my errand in the bud itself. I ran back home cursing my luck for this stillborn morning. "You should not accept failure.." I reaffirmed myself. So i decided to beat the rain by having my morning walk on the verandah. I put on the earphones, clipped the phone to my pocket and started walking. The music from the FM radio added rhythm to my walk. The process lasted till the end of the fourth song and the pleasant sounding RJ predicted 3 more days of continuous rain....... I went in to my room and continued my daily rounds of aerobics...... please dont misunderstand me..... its not the aerobics that you guys know..... it was invented just by me for my own convenience..... that by doing so I wanted to comfort myself that I am bound for a weight loss. :-)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;After half an hour of "My-aerobics", I decided that its time for a coffee. It was still raining heavily.... so I took out my umbrella (btw the umbrella was gift...ok... and no prizes for guessing who gifted it) and started walking. The sides of the highway was adorned with big and small colourful hoardings of Tata DOCOMO.. the freshest addition to the evergrowing telecom market....!!! I reached the bakery and pushed the button of the vending machine.... Before I could see the result of my physical energy on the electronic medium, the shop keeper suddenly announced the "absence" of coffee powder... So I had to suffice myself with the so called fresh tea that came straight from the hills of munnar.......!!!! The puffs that adorned the glass displays gave me a hard time... I couldnt just ignore the beauty that smiled at me unfurling her folds and showing a piece of egg adorned with spicy onion, through the tiny pore on her fold. I tried myself to turn my back to her..... but she was so seductive and at last I succumbed to my temptation.... no ..... to her beauty.....!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-7716858660895011966?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/7716858660895011966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=7716858660895011966' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/7716858660895011966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/7716858660895011966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-tryst-with-temptations.html' title='My tryst with temptations'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-6497306963507268217</id><published>2009-06-30T17:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.518-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rhythm'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='will power'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='haphazard thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='step climbing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hypertension'/><title type='text'>Will Power</title><content type='html'>Lack of will power is the newest villain in my life. I never realised that I lacked such a great quality and second the fact that its indeed regretful to miss this virtue. Whatever it may sound like, I really need a backing to acquire this upstanding quality... sooner or it will be too late to repent!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am enjoying the newly found rhythm of climbing steps. Take one step at a time and it ties in to a fast paced music in your mind and body. Take two steps at a time... stretched ones..... you may gather more ground and distance but it relates to a melodious soothing euphony. But the rhythm and the beat changes when you descend. You tend to get delighted about the easiness of coming down and forget the rhythm and the music associated with the contrary. The melody is lost. Its common to mistake and map the easiness and delight to success until you find out the the comfort you enjoyed while descending have resulted in placing yourself at the bottom of the stack. Just take a glance at the top and you will realize that you will have to find a different rhythm, all over again, to climb back.... and that requires a lot of will power!!!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Nowadays, I am getting exceedingly irritated. I have my hypertension to blame for my inordinate irritation. But that is quite unreasonable.... the effects of HT on your body is apprehensible but its effects on your mind and your thought process is unfathomable. It definitely have some known connection and I have no intention to explore more.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Let me get back to "will power" cultivation!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-6497306963507268217?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/6497306963507268217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=6497306963507268217' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/6497306963507268217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/6497306963507268217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/06/will-power.html' title='Will Power'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-8697633187556957522</id><published>2009-06-30T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.501-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Presentations'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kris ashok'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='business humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ramayana'/><title type='text'>Ramayana - Core Value Proposition</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0;height:0;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bHQ9MTI*NjM2MzM2NzQyNiZwdD*xMjQ2MzYzNDczODk5JnA9MTAxOTEmZD*mbj13b3JkcHJlc3MmZz*xJnQ9Jm89YzI1YTM1YjQ2MGFjNDRlZmE3OTI5N2Q2MmFmYTQ1NWImb2Y9MA==.gif" border="0" alt="" width="0" height="0" /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div id="__ss_1544091" style="width:425px;text-align:left;"&gt;&lt;a style="font:14px Helvetica,Arial,Sans-serif;display:block;text-decoration:underline;margin:12px 0 3px;" title="Ramayana - Core Value Proposition" href="http://www.slideshare.net/krishashok/ramayana-core-value-proposition-1544091?type=presentation"&gt;Ramayana - Core Value Proposition&lt;/a&gt;[gigya width="425" height="355" src="http://static.slidesharecdn.com/swf/ssplayer2.swf?doc=ramayana-core-value-proposition-090607033823-phpapp01&amp;amp;stripped_title=ramayana-core-value-proposition-1544091" quality="high" flashvars="gig_lt=1246363367426&amp;amp;gig_pt=1246363473899&amp;amp;gig_g=1&amp;amp;gig_n=wordpress" wmode="tranparent" ]&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div style="font-size:11px;font-family:tahoma,arial;height:26px;padding-top:2px;"&gt;View more &lt;a style="text-decoration:underline;" href="http://www.slideshare.net/"&gt;documents&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a style="text-decoration:underline;" href="http://www.slideshare.net/krishashok"&gt;krishashok&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div style="font-size:11px;font-family:tahoma,arial;height:26px;padding-top:2px;"&gt;Courtesy: Kris Ashok for this brilliant presentation!!!!!&lt;/div&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/8770483152945279863-8697633187556957522?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/8697633187556957522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=8697633187556957522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/8697633187556957522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/8697633187556957522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/06/ramayana-core-value-proposition.html' title='Ramayana - Core Value Proposition'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-2268162384746426299</id><published>2009-06-17T14:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.433-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heart'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='haphazard thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hypertension'/><title type='text'>A conflicting hypothesis</title><content type='html'>The red ornate meat at the left side of my body is pounding heavily. I could feel the throb and the tireless flow of hot fluid......... doctors term it as hypertension. Quite strange..... hypertension at this age... very uncommon!!!!!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I have felt this throbbing before, when I was with my love..... long back in school. That was a delight... a feeling of joy but now....this is disturbing.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Wish everything is back to normal and that the throbbing happens only for love and not by any somatic disorders!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-2268162384746426299?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/2268162384746426299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=2268162384746426299' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/2268162384746426299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/2268162384746426299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/06/conflicting-hypothesis.html' title='A conflicting hypothesis'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-185836053951914718</id><published>2009-06-03T11:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.407-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='euphonical'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boy &apos;n&apos; Girl Tales'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lost love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poems'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>It was raining</title><content type='html'>&lt;img class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-286" title="Rain" src="http://euphonical.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/rain2.jpg?w=300" alt="Rain" width="300" height="200" /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;It was raining.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;I waited for you and you never came&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;It was raining.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;I saw you in his arms and you tickled my bane&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;It was raining.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;I saw you with your child playing in the rain&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;It was raining.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;I saw you weeping at the end of the nuptial game&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;It was raining.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;You came to me and I was vexed about defame&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;It was raining.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;You talked to me but I was not the same&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;It was raining.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;You walked away and I lolled my head in shame&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;It was raining....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;I cried and my tears were washed away by the rain&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;It was raining and its still raining!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-185836053951914718?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/185836053951914718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=185836053951914718' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/185836053951914718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/185836053951914718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/06/it-was-raining.html' title='It was raining'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-6764581998401455669</id><published>2009-05-26T17:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.357-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Social Networking for Enterprise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='HR ConnectIn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Assyst'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='enterprise 2.0'/><title type='text'>Social Networking for Enterprise - HR ConnectIn</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="visibility:hidden;width:0;height:0;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bHQ9MTI*MzM2NTE2NDAzNCZwdD*xMjQzMzY1MjAzMzU2JnA9MTAxOTEmZD*mbj13b3JkcHJlc3MmZz*xJnQ9Jm89YTRkMjI3ODYzOTRlNDEzODliNWI1ODZjYjVlMTQ3NzYmb2Y9MA==.gif" border="0" alt="" width="0" height="0" /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div id="__ss_1490909" style="width:425px;text-align:left;"&gt;&lt;a title="Social Networking for Enterprise - HR ConnectIn" href="http://www.slideshare.net/assyst/social-networking-for-enterprise-hr-connectin?type=powerpoint"&gt;Social Networking for Enterprise - HR ConnectIn&lt;/a&gt;[gigya width="425" height="355" src="http://static.slidesharecdn.com/swf/ssplayer2.swf?doc=connectinbusinesscase3hr-090526113642-phpapp01&amp;amp;stripped_title=social-networking-for-enterprise-hr-connectin" quality="high" flashvars="gig_lt=1243365164034&amp;amp;gig_pt=1243365203356&amp;amp;gig_g=1&amp;amp;gig_n=wordpress" wmode="tranparent" ]&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div style="font-size:11px;font-family:tahoma,arial;height:26px;padding-top:2px;"&gt;View more &lt;a href="http://www.slideshare.net/"&gt;OpenOffice presentations&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://www.slideshare.net/assyst"&gt;Assyst Inc&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&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/8770483152945279863-6764581998401455669?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/6764581998401455669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=6764581998401455669' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/6764581998401455669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/6764581998401455669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/05/social-networking-for-enterprise-hr.html' title='Social Networking for Enterprise - HR ConnectIn'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-969681300484646026</id><published>2009-05-01T11:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.328-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='films'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boy &apos;n&apos; Girl Tales'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meeting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='overclouded world'/><title type='text'>The Overclouded World</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- 		@page { size: 8.5in 11in; margin: 0.79in } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } --&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Jasna was not that pretty. She was dark and short. Clad in a pair of black jeans and a dark red top which made her more untempting. But she had an aura which no one could ignore. I first noted her when she came walking through the railway platform trying to balance a heavy travel bag on her shoulders. She came and stopped right near the bench (the only vacant one in the station) where I was comfortably seated and alighted the burden from her shoulders. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and adjusted her dress which was drenched with sweat. She took the far end of the bench and never noticed my stagging vision which was closely spying on her for the past couple of minutes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;She sat there with her eyes closed... Her face testified the weariness due to the heat and the weight she was carrying. I  waited for a few more minutes and decided to make the move.... though a bit apprehensive.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: Which train???? Kpuram Passenger?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Awakened by my sudden query, she opened her eyes. Her face demoed all the vexation for disturbing her thoughts and solitude. She turned to me abruptly as if she was surprised to see that other people also existed in this universe.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: (&lt;em&gt;showing her displeasure and also her apprehension of talking to a stranger&lt;/em&gt;) Yeah.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: Going to Kpuram?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: (&lt;em&gt;still showing the same emotions on her face&lt;/em&gt;) No. Kakkad.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;(&lt;em&gt;Kakkad is second last station and Kpuram the terminus&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: Ok. I think the train will be pretty much crowded.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: mmmmm (&lt;em&gt;She stretched her limps, adjusted her position on the bench and again closed her eyes&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Considering the cold response I decided not to ask any more questions. I was getting bored and the announcement about the late running of the train added oil in to the fire. The heat was unbearable too. I opened my bag to search for the head phones. Music was the only solace for me now. As I was fishing my bag for the ear phones, she turned to me and asked.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Where are you going?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: Kpuram.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Ok. At what time will this train reach Kakkad?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: The right time is 11.30pm. Since the train is running late I think it will reach there past midnight.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Ok.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: Whats your name?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Jasna and yours?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: Ram&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;(&lt;em&gt;Silence followed&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: Are you studying here or working?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Working&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: Where?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: I am an artist. I mean an actress.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: (&lt;em&gt;Excited&lt;/em&gt;) Ok. Thats great. This is the first time I am talking to an actress.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: I am just a struggling one. Have done quite a few albums and tele films.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;And she went on to list a few. I have seen and heard a few of the albums that she mentioned but I have never noticed her. Anyway she was not the main character in any of those. But I decided not to ask any more details.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: I came here for a shoot and now going back home. What are you doing? Working?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: Yeah. In an advertising and event management firm.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Ok. So you might have lot of contacts in the film industry. Right?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: No. I am doing back office work.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Ohh.. Ok.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Are you going home?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: Yeah. Its weekend right!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Yeah. Its good that you people work for 5 days and go back home during the weekend. We have no such holidays. We either have lots of work or no work at all. For us, there is no difference between a week day or a week end. (&lt;em&gt;sighing&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: But you people make a lot of money and fame.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Money and fame!!!!! Phew..... Is it the only thing people need?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: It is usually for money and fame that people get in to this profession. Isn't it?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Not all. There is something called passion.... passion for acting...! But others who see it from outside think that its just for money, glamour and fame. You dont know how much we had to sacrifice to fulfill our dreams and to satisfy the passion.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Me: Yeah.... I have heard about the casting couch and stuff..... that people are exploiting the struggling actors, both physically and mentally.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Thats true.... We have to compromise on a lot of things.......&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Suddenly her attention was diverted to a fat person dressed in white who was walking down the platform towards us. He had a thick mustache and grey hair. His neck, arms and fingers were prominently adorned with gold ornamnets. From the expressions on her face I could understand that the person was familiar to her. She smiled at him as he came towards us. She suddenly stood up and turned towards me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;J: Thats the producer of my new album. I think I have got work........ for tonight and the rest of the week. (Then she thrust a paper in to my hand) This is my contact number. Do call me if you have any work for me.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;With a wicked smile she turned towards the fat guy and walked away with him.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;Before I could digest the happenings, the train slowly arrived at the station. I boarded the train still clutching the paper in my hand. My mind was fully occupied with the character I met at the station. I took a single seat near the window and unfurled the paper. I took out my phone and started dialing the number. But something deep inside me forced me to stop in between. I disconnected the call and deleted the number. With out a second thought I crushed the paper in my hand and threw it away.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="margin-bottom:0;" align="justify"&gt;I leaned back on my seat and scrolled through the phone book on my mobile until my eyes fell on the name of the most special person in my life- my better half.... my wife!!! Without any hesitation I dialed her number. I knew that she will be waiting for me back home............ always!!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-969681300484646026?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/969681300484646026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=969681300484646026' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/969681300484646026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/969681300484646026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/05/overclouded-world.html' title='The Overclouded World'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-753212469958432550</id><published>2009-04-16T17:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.298-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='optimism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pessimism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='haphazard thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='failure'/><title type='text'>Optimistic Pessimism</title><content type='html'>It was General elections today and this was the first time that my precious vote was not cast, ever since I turned 18. Do I miss the black ink mark on the index finger of my left hand? Yes, I guess.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;It was a holiday today, but I preferred to work (or rather come to office) eyeing the compensatory off that is to be utilized next week for my cousin's wedding. I patted myself for not heeding to the innumerous phone calls from the 'machus' from my home town. Compensatory off and wedding were my trump cards against them....&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Now its 12 midnight and just one more hour to go to hit the bed. Even after a myriad of phone calls and emails, I am left with no results. A bit tired and dispirited I decided to sit back and contemplate on the directions to strike gold. I tried to reassure myself that I am here to work hard and to bring home the bacon. Be smart..... I dictated myself.... but the journey has been so long and clumsy.... so cumbersome. What it emphatically incited in me is the uttermost minifying of self-assurance and self-confidence.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Tomorrow is yet another rosy day.... starting with the same old hopes......might as well end in abjection as always.....&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Optimistic pessimism!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-753212469958432550?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/753212469958432550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=753212469958432550' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/753212469958432550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/753212469958432550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/04/optimistic-pessimism.html' title='Optimistic Pessimism'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8770483152945279863.post-2979601688503107772</id><published>2009-04-15T16:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T13:54:38.287-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='moral'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='euphonical'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='succeed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='poems'/><title type='text'>The heat</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;The scorching sun, the heat&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;and the biting wind&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;the charring skin, the pelt&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;my withering rind.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;Pitted with nature's fury&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;feeling its utter wrath&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;Mightier than I could carry&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;cutting short my deader path.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;Larn to exist in this wind&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;fore the final outcry&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;assay to gain before the end&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;p style="text-align:center;"&gt;is the moral of the story.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8770483152945279863-2979601688503107772?l=wounded-zahir.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/feeds/2979601688503107772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8770483152945279863&amp;postID=2979601688503107772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/2979601688503107772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8770483152945279863/posts/default/2979601688503107772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wounded-zahir.blogspot.com/2009/04/heat.html' title='The heat'/><author><name>Euphonical</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15852487767848984509</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09544933730059773214'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>