<?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' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219615215235785311</id><updated>2011-07-08T05:10:03.410+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Tales from Mahatma Baba</title><subtitle type='html'>You gotta be in the right place at the right time which basically means.....follow me!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>mahatma_baba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05364523304021785386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219615215235785311.post-8408611697917295153</id><published>2010-05-10T02:23:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-05-10T02:27:15.029+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Who am I?</title><content type='html'>You are sometimes defined by what you do. Sometimes by who you are with. Sometimes by who is with you. Sometimes by what you have been. When you don't have an answer to any of them, the mind calls for an identity. And the heart joins in the tirade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who am I? What is my identity? I search for an answer. But I cannot find one. A little surprising considering that I have always thought of myself as someone who comes to answers by logical conclusions. And then I dig deeper, and realize why I could not find &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; answer. There &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; no answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My identity right now is  a clash of personalities inside me, if you will. One that says that to be successful, you gotta start young. To another that says you gotta live your younger years with all its color and vigor. A personality which says work is all that defines a man, to another that says work is just a means to an end, an end in itself. And I am right in the middle of all of this, trying to find my way. To make my identity. I don't have one. Logical conclusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life surely has come a long way. I used to be good with words; I still am, but mostly in writing. When I can gather all my thoughts and punch them in rapidly, in solitude, before they desert me. The vocal skills are gone, for lack of someone to talk to. The big bright eyes have given way to eyes tired and sleepy with hours of staring at the Macbook. The fit and lean body has been replaced by occasional layers of fat, from hours of sitting on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ergonomic&lt;/span&gt; chairs. The body bursting with positive energy that not only pushed me but excited others around me to go out and explore is now a body that needs to be inspired. The excitement of going places has given way to dread, of losing out valuable time that could be better spent on work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But not all is lost. It is easy to think so when everything seems so far apart, but there are flashes. Of hope. Of friendship. Of love. Of good work. Of good satisfying work, that can one day define who you are. It is often through the dreary haze they call alcohol. The liquid that burns your throat, fucks your stomach and throbs your head the next morning. But you need something to to hold on to, to give you company, to calm your nerves and to fuel your body. Through the dreary haze, the silence has been carving out a clearer head. The loneliness has been feeding a stronger heart. The war of personalities trying to define an identity inside me has given a purpose to actually create one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is just a phase, and it shall pass. The loneliness and the confusion will give way to a clearer head and steelier resolve. I will define my identity, my mind says. And the heart joins in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1219615215235785311-8408611697917295153?l=mahatmababa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/feeds/8408611697917295153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1219615215235785311&amp;postID=8408611697917295153' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/8408611697917295153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/8408611697917295153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/2010/05/who-am-i.html' title='Who am I?'/><author><name>mahatma_baba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05364523304021785386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219615215235785311.post-5076812286025831022</id><published>2010-01-24T02:56:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-24T10:16:32.752+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Blah</title><content type='html'>Life changes. Life changes every couple of months. Or so you think till you are 27, married and your wife is pregnant with what you want to be a boy so that he can take care of you when you are old and unable to take care of yourself. Sorry for the long sentence, but you get the hang of it, don't you? But that's beside the point, as always. Let's get to the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have grown up as I hinted in my last post. I have gotten out of college and gotten into work. I have gotten out of one relationship and gotten into another.....NOT. Now that could be because my charm muscles are aging. Or some other parts of my body. Or that I live in a shoddy part of Kolkata and there is nothing particularly exciting about the route I cover daily from home to work and back again. Or that I am too busy to even bother about it? (eh, do you say?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever part of that might be true or not, but at least this is true -- I am now bonded. By time. Bonded. By sub-ordinates. Bonded. By internal deadlines. Bonded. By the soul-fucking software world where everything  is 1-0-0-1-1-0-1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, the spontaneity has gone out of my life. I am not the master of my own time. I can't eat at my own will. I can't drink at my own will. I can't piss at my own will. I can't sleep at my own will (that needed some luck all the time anyway). This sucks. You should be the master of your own will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I watched 3 Idiots today that I must say is one hell of an inspirational movie (not more than the book, but then more people can relate to it). Without boasting, this is something I have believed in and talked about even before the book or the movie came out. So yes, give me some brownie points and brownies for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here's my point finally: Live everyday of your life as if it is your last day on Earth. Don't live your life for someone else. Live it for yourself. Live it for what you want to be -- not what your mom, dad, uncle, aunt, brother, in-laws, neighbors, dogs, milkman want you to be. Live it for what will make for a proud story to your grand children. Live it for what will make you happy on your death bed when you are counting to your last breath. Live it for all that it's worth!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1219615215235785311-5076812286025831022?l=mahatmababa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/feeds/5076812286025831022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1219615215235785311&amp;postID=5076812286025831022' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/5076812286025831022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/5076812286025831022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/2010/01/blah.html' title='Blah'/><author><name>mahatma_baba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05364523304021785386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219615215235785311.post-1077213006728531109</id><published>2009-04-26T10:55:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-26T10:57:16.051+05:30</updated><title type='text'>You know you have grown up when….</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black"&gt;I am gonna pass out of college in 2 months. This is the phase when you start getting nostalgic about things you weren't so crazy about in the first place. So these were the best four years of my life – see what I meant by the earlier sentence; when I actually had to go to college and write exams, I couldn’t wait for engineering to end. But anyway, all of that is beside the point. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black"&gt;So what is the point exactly? Yes, that’s one thing which is always difficult to make out when I am writing. I normally start writing a post without anything concrete in mind and then just carry on with the flow and then at the end, I see where I have reached and accordingly give it a title. It works fine for me that way. Anyway, that is beside the point too. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black"&gt;So what is the point exactly? Okay, now that’s 2 paragraphs in a row which start and end the same way, which is not good. So now I will get to the point – I have grown up. I have grown up and matured. One keeps growing up all the time, so how do you know when you have “grown up” grown up? Well…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto"&gt;&lt;span style="color:black"&gt;You know you have grown up when:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ol start="1" type="1"&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;You have more chest hair (We are only talking about the Indian      male species here)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;1999 seems like the time when you were young and foolish – and      now you are young no more.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:      7.0pt"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia"&gt;You know WWE is not      actually real, so you shouldn’t really try it at home.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;Some of your childhood friends are planning to get married, some      are married and some have a kid named Sonu.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;You don’t have to know about every new Facebook application that      comes out.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;You don’t watch a 3 hour movie for a 2-minute bikini scene in      somewhere. You just download the bikini clip and watch it – many times      over.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;Quite a number of your drunken conversations end with - “That’s      life”.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;You start expressing concern about the bleak future of the      country, now that you are a part of it.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;Your idea of a nice Sunday is good food and good sleep (and good      sex if you can get some).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;Your email address isn’t a random mix of “hot”, “kool” and “dude”      anymore. Instead it simply is your first name followed by your last name.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;You have more money to spend, but a responsibility to earn it      too.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;You don’t try and break every law that there is in the book.      There are some you respect, some you dispute, some you fear and some you      live with.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;You watch Aaj Tak instead of Cartoon Network for a good laugh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style="color:black;mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:      auto;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:      Georgia"&gt;You put your ass down on a big black chair and write this on a Saturday night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1219615215235785311-1077213006728531109?l=mahatmababa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/feeds/1077213006728531109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1219615215235785311&amp;postID=1077213006728531109' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/1077213006728531109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/1077213006728531109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/2009/04/you-know-you-have-grown-up-when.html' title='You know you have grown up when….'/><author><name>mahatma_baba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05364523304021785386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219615215235785311.post-7599539356734616496</id><published>2009-01-17T11:28:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-17T11:35:26.933+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A tribute to Bollywood</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Now that I have your attention, let me tell you the truth - this is not a tribute to Bollywood. It's actually the opposite, a 'dis-tribute' to Bollywood as I would like to call it, for lack of a better word or more precisely, my lack of knowledge of one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bollywood has been seeking &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;inspiration&lt;/span&gt; from Hollywood since eras long gone by. Stunts have been inspired, dialogues have been inspired, entire scenes have been inspired, names have been inspired (remember Fight Club: Members Only) and most frequently, entire movies have been inspired. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's the Bollywood-Hollywood relationship from a different take. What if some of the Hollywood movies were made in Hindi with their names translated literally? Well, here's what we would get:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The GodFather - Bhagwan Papa&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Psycho - Paagal&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Rear Window - Peeche ki Khidki&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - Anguthi ka bhagwan: Raja waapas aa raha hain&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One flew over the cuckoo's nest - Ek Koyal ke ghosla ke upar se ud gaya&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The list could have gone on and on. In fact, all of what I had to do was open up the IMDB Top 250 movie list and one in every 7 movies made it to the list. As for the other 6, some of them were too long (Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb), som too short (Wall-E), some Chinese movies, some I couldn't understand how to interpret (The Departed) and some which you wouldn't have understood after I used the Hindi word as suggested by Word AnyWhere (Google's first result for English to Hindi translator).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And if you think the above list is funny, the actual names given to the Hollywood movies when dubbed in Hindi are no less. The best example of this that I can remember is Tomb Raider becoming Sherni No. 1. And Slumdog Millionaire becomes Slumdog Crorepati - what about the Slumdog part of things? I know it's a little difficult to translate that but then how about coming up with an entirely different name for it as is the norm? How about "Jamal ka Kamaal"? (For those who haven't seen the movie, Jamal is the name of the lead character in the movie)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before I round up the post, let me do some justice to the title of the post. And how? Let's re-vist the legendary "Gandhiji ki dhoti mein" game. This game is a part of growing up of every Indian guy, and the girls who happen to be around them while the game is being played. For those of you who don't know about the game and think of me as a sick, perverted and repulsive bastard, well the game is exactly what you think it is - Think of a Bollywood movie name and then prefix "Gandhiji ki dhoti mein" to that and say it aloud. After years of playing the game as a teenager and loving Bollywood for it, here's revisiting the best of it as a 20-something:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Kaante&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hungama&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sholay&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Zanjeer&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ram Gopal Varma ki Aag&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Andaaz Apna Apna&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Golmaal&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Main Hoon Na&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Heroes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dhoom&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Aaja Nachle&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bhool Bhulaiya&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Darna Zaroori Hai&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Halla Bol&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Jab We Met&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mere Baap Pehle Aap&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;No Smoking&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Shoot on Sight&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ugly aur Pagli&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Phoonk&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mere Do Anmol Ratan&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gandhiji ki dhoti mein Bend It Like Beckham, anyone?&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/1219615215235785311-7599539356734616496?l=mahatmababa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/feeds/7599539356734616496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1219615215235785311&amp;postID=7599539356734616496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/7599539356734616496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/7599539356734616496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/2009/01/tribute-to-bollywood.html' title='A tribute to Bollywood'/><author><name>mahatma_baba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05364523304021785386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219615215235785311.post-1553685770518916266</id><published>2009-01-11T20:42:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-01-11T21:24:11.786+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A random assortment of facts</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;My mind works randomly. It hits a note, stays put for some time and just when that note is about to peak, it hits another note. I know it's a weird analogy to draw but then weird things can be explained only using other weird things, or else they would sound just like a I-woke-up-at-10-in-the-morning-and-went-to-the-toilet-and-took-a-long-piss kind of thing. Anyways, so I told you that my mind works randomly. And when it's working randomly, it works really fast. It is the closest I can come to the multi-tasking performed by modern operating systems and the fairer sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am talking rather randomly, am I not? So let's cut things short and let me do what I do best - split incoherent text into cohesive pieces of text and give you....ahhhaa....bulleted text. So, these are the latest notes that my mind hit and my fingers took down in the GMail Drafts folder (I don't trust my hard disk when it comes to my "funny" blog entries):&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;When was the last time you tuned into a news channel and they weren't airing "Breaking News"....can't remember right? It's pretty much like the last hot chick you saw on Roadies whom Raghu didn't ask to dance (aka "Entertain Us...do something....can you dance? Music please" - with a big smile and expectant eyes).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Ever thought of why so many children have been ending up in trenches and ditches ever after the Prince incident? That incident took the entire nation by storm with everybody anybody knew following the rescue operation as if they were following the stock market after the Satyam fiasco. But after that happened, I can distinctly remember atleast 3-4 more of the same incidents happening, government coughing up compensatory sums everytime when the media blamed them for leaving the trenches open and yup it's "Breaking News" everytime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When was the last time you logged into rediff.com or msnindia.com for that matter and you don't remember seeing a "The Hottest Bollywood Babes" link floating around somewhere on the homepage? And if you happen to click on the link, which you would if you happen to be sitting at home on a Sunday afternoon with nothing to do, it will be the same old collection of Mallika Sherawat, Bipasha Basu, Priyanka Chopra and Gul Panag (she looks like a Goddess after the Maxim Metamorphosis though) with the same old saucy chessy text written all over. Is it that our country doesn't generate enough news (which is highly improbable having a country of a billion and more and a proportional number of Sa-Re-Ga-Ma type shows - "Himesh ko gussa kyon aata hain" - a full 6 mins, 37 seconds coverage on you-know-which-channel showing how Himesh got into an argument with one of the co-judges) or is that in India, no matter what sells and what doesn't, sex forever will (after all we are from the land of Kamasutra, so the legacy has to continue).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;How low would the self esteem of call center guys be? I mean, first of all they have to put on accents and change names, so Sudhanshu becomes Sam and Annapoorna becomes Anna, which basically means they are faking identities and .... oh no I forgot I was talking only about call centers, so they are only faking identities; keep awake when the rest of the populace around them is sleeeping and then listen to absuses when it's not even their fault - it must have been some sleepy-eyed programmer who might have said to a co-programmer at 1 in the night when the coffee machine wasn't working - "Let's forget this bug. Let's just forget that it even exists. I mean, those 250 call center guys shouldn't be paid for doing nothing and that too when their coffee machines and stress balls are all working fine. And what do you think we could put in the new version anyway?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No offence to you call center guys, I would still much rather talk to you than have the following conversation, say when I want to know my tariff rates:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hello, hello, haalllo..&lt;br /&gt;Automated voice replies: Hello and welcome to BadaFone...BadaFone mein aapka swaagat hain...Press 1 for English, Press 2 for Hindi...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I press 1 because hearing an automated voice talk in Hindi kind of reminds me of the Ramsay brothers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Automated voice: Press 1 if you want to know your account balance...Press 2 to recharge your account...Press 3 to know more about our value-added plans...Press 4 to know more about our roaming facilities....Press 5 to ....Press 8 to....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am still waiting for some option that could be useful to me....There is a pause at the other end...I am waiting to hear "Press 9 to talk to our support department"....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Automated voice (&lt;em&gt;starts all over again with the menu options&lt;/em&gt;): Press 1 if you want to know your account balance...Press 2 to recharge your account...Press 3 to know...Press 5 to...Press 8 to...&lt;br /&gt;Me (&lt;em&gt;talking&lt;/em&gt; aloud to the automated voice): I would much rather press my balls and &lt;em&gt;talk&lt;/em&gt; to someone.&lt;br /&gt;Automated voice: Invalid option...please listen carefully and then enter your choice...Press 1 if you want to...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1219615215235785311-1553685770518916266?l=mahatmababa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/feeds/1553685770518916266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1219615215235785311&amp;postID=1553685770518916266' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/1553685770518916266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/1553685770518916266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/2009/01/random-assortment-of-facts.html' title='A random assortment of facts'/><author><name>mahatma_baba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05364523304021785386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219615215235785311.post-6691638558391357008</id><published>2008-12-07T17:18:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-12-07T21:28:24.585+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Mark Twain, Rodney Dangerfield and Mahatma Baba</title><content type='html'>It's been 3 and a half months since I last wrote anything. Well, I have been....busy. Anyway, here I am back again to writing but since I am all rusty, this is what I will do - throw in some Mark Twain one-liners followed by my favourite Rod Dangerfield one-liner followed by my own sporadically written pieces of what I thought was funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mark Twain:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The holy passion of Friendship is of so sweet and steady and loyal and enduring a nature that it will last through a whole lifetime, if not asked to lend money.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rodney Dangerfield&lt;/strong&gt; - my favourite&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I don't get no respect. I played hide-and-seek, and they wouldn't even look for me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mahatma Baba&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;- "I came, I saw, I conquered" - Julius Caesar - to succinctly describe one of his victories&lt;br /&gt;"I saw, I conquered, I came" - Mahatma Baba - to add to the list&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;There's no such thing as a free lunch unless you look good in a tight skirt.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;To err is human, to err again is Bengali.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Everything that blinks is not an indicator&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;How does a lawyer change the case he's working with?&lt;br /&gt;He presses Caps Lock&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Heard about Chetan Bhagat's "The 3 biggest mistakes of my life"...well reading it was my biggest mistake&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What will happen if India is chasing 324 in a day-night match against Australia?&lt;br /&gt;All out and good night&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;What do you call a tubelight which takes 10 mins to get lit?&lt;br /&gt;A tubelight.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;P.S. I haven'd added too many of Rod Dangerfield's one-liners, even though each one of them betters the other, to prevent my own list from loosing any sheen - it's not like I am comically challenged or anything but it takes a lot of effort to write succinct pieces of text, put everything into context and be articulate and funny at the same time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1219615215235785311-6691638558391357008?l=mahatmababa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/feeds/6691638558391357008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1219615215235785311&amp;postID=6691638558391357008' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/6691638558391357008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/6691638558391357008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/2008/12/mark-twain-rodney-dangerfield-and.html' title='Mark Twain, Rodney Dangerfield and Mahatma Baba'/><author><name>mahatma_baba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05364523304021785386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219615215235785311.post-8073931270283349933</id><published>2008-08-24T10:55:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-24T11:08:47.578+05:30</updated><title type='text'>"I always knew he could do it"</title><content type='html'>"Just before he was boarding the plane, I met him and by the look in his eyes, I knew he would do it"...these would be the words of "experts" when on TV commenting on the performance of our Olympics heroes. When anyone succeeds on a global stage, everybody wants a piece of the cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Numerous IOA officials will now jump to the occasion and talk about how they had hand-picked Abhinav Bindra when he was young or saw the fire in Vijender Kumar's eyes and recommended him to some sports authority. News channels and websites will go even a step further and talk about what they had for breakfast before the medal-winning effort, talk about the first girl they kissed and whether they used their tongue, pick out photos from their family albums in which our beloved medallists would be wearing shorts and sporting half-grown moustaches, and even go to the Great Khali for his opinion on the same. Little known or outgrown celebs like Priyanka Kothari and Manisha Koirala (pardon me if any of them got their spellings changed after going to numerologists and realizing that their names add up to 9 which is an unlucky number) will try to cash in by saying: "I have a crush on Viju". Just formed bands like "The Street Rockers" (its a fictitious name - please do not try googling it) will come up with songs like "Olympics Conquered". Their school principals will talk about how they instill discipline in school from a young age and teach their students the value of sports and of all-round growth when in fact, they might not even be having a proper cricket cum football cum kho kho cum kabaddi cum "Stand outside in the sun for the whole day" field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;State governments will announce cash awards one after the other - "Madhya Pradesh government announces a cash prize of 5 lakhs for Sushil Kumar", stadiums will be renamed after them - "Patna Indoor Stadium to be renamed after Abhinav Bindra", free lifetime railway and air passes will be given to them, PhDs will be conferred on them (it might happen you never know), their coaches will be felicitated, their parents will be made members of some really prestigious societies, their uncles, aunts, grandparents, girlfriends, first cousins, dhobis, milkmen, pet dogs everyone will be honoured in one way or the other. Endless endorsements will follow: Insurance companies - "Having insurance made me forget all my worries and focus on my aim", soft drinks - "I had a drink just before the match which kept me refreshed throughout", biscuits - "It has all the necessary vitamins and minerals needed to become a true champion", mosquito coils - "It allowed me to have a good night's sleep before the big day", condoms - "I always play safe" etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have nothing against the Olympics heroes - I respect them from the bottom of my heart for their glorious achievements. They make me feel really patriotic. They have brought honour and glory to the country and they should be given their dues for it. But my question is - why all of this only after they became heroes? Why did none of the state goverments put in so much money to build any kind of infrastructure for the sport which they so swear by now? Why did none of the IOA officials talk about Bindra's golden eye or Vijender's speed or Sushil Kumar's tiger prowess when they were embarking on their Olympic journey? A word of encouragement then would have meant a lot more than all the "I knew he could do it" lines now. All that said and done, the Olympic heroes with all the money and power in their hands now should try and build their sport - ask for better infrastructure, support budding youngsters and spread the sport. All in all, they should let the sport bask in their glory, not the state governments or IOA officials.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1219615215235785311-8073931270283349933?l=mahatmababa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/feeds/8073931270283349933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1219615215235785311&amp;postID=8073931270283349933' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/8073931270283349933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/8073931270283349933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-always-knew-he-could-do-it.html' title='&quot;I always knew he could do it&quot;'/><author><name>mahatma_baba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05364523304021785386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219615215235785311.post-3238054906468959653</id><published>2008-08-21T00:30:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-21T00:52:12.862+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Unsung Heroes</title><content type='html'>We all remember Edison for inventing the bulb, Babbage for the computer, Baird for the TV and so on and so forth but does anyone really care for who invented the refrigerator or liquid soap or birth control pills for that matter? Listed below are what I think some of the most important unsung inventions (I might be misusing the word invention in some places but you get what the basic idea is, don't you?):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Air conditioner: The reason why I place the air conditioner at the top of the list is I am from Kolkata. For those of you who haven't really heard the name and find it hilarious with the 27 different ways you can pronounce it, Kolkata is the closest you can get to hell...40 degree temperatues with 97% humidity is not something you would be talking about on the phone to your second cousin from Agra - it's way too common. Sir Willis Haviland Carrier - you to me are GOD and I want to make sure that the Kolkata mayor confers on you a posthumous award in Victoria Memorial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Contact lenses: From the bespectacled nerdy over-winking (P.S. it's not over-wanking) kid to the dark, tall, handsome(?) guy - yup contact lenses made it possible. I could pretty much add one of those before-after picture comparisons showing how much my life has changed. Okay, that's a bit too much of exaggeration. Alright here's the truth - waking up every morning and putting in the lenses is sure a pain but I don't have to deal with glasses slipping down my nose in the sticky Kolkata heat or having disfigured frames when taking basketball rebounds. Sir Otto Wichterle...I owe you one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Deodorant: Imagine standing in an over-crowded Kolkata bus on a humid summer day with people reaching out to the handle for dear life. Now add to that Mount Fujiyama sized sweat patches forming under their arm-pits. And finally add to that the 99% humidity powered sweat stink (I told you it's the closest you can get to hell). In comes the life saver ... deodorant. If you are a regular bus commuter, you can't thank Helen Barnett Diserens enough for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;TV Remote Control: Post 1956, waist sizes have been shown to be larger, eyes more watery and legs heavier. Post 1956, laziness has a new name - the TV remote control. All of that said and done, can you really watch TV without the remote control? Imagine watching TB6 Mockba at 11.32 in the night and your Mom walks in. Can you switch to Discovery Channel and fake interest in the cheetahs when you are thinking of other wild things, without the remote control? The remote control has made TV watching an absolute delight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Condoms: The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of condoms is the Indian-Pakistani condom-chewing gum joke. The next thing that comes to my mind is India is a country of 1 billion and counting. Laugh about the first thing, think about the second one and you would agree - condoms do deserve a mention here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lunch buffets: Soups, salads, pastas, pizzas, biryanis, chaats, curries, naan, pastries, mousse, ice cream and more. One helping, two helpings, three helpings, twenty three and a half helpings. Lunch buffets are awesome - they take care of half the world's hunger problem, Brangelina adopt the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bum washer: Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty with the work, and sometimes even after the work. But the bum washer comes in as a fine jet of water that doesn't require you to get your hands dirty, atleast not after the work.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;P.S. The inventor names that I have put up are the ones returned by Google in the first 4-5 search results. I did not really burn midnight oil searching half the world's libraries for dust-laden books on the same. So I might be wrong with some of them - in case I am, please do correct me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1219615215235785311-3238054906468959653?l=mahatmababa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/feeds/3238054906468959653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1219615215235785311&amp;postID=3238054906468959653' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/3238054906468959653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/3238054906468959653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/2008/08/unsung-heroes.html' title='The Unsung Heroes'/><author><name>mahatma_baba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05364523304021785386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219615215235785311.post-2673286745401002495</id><published>2008-08-19T20:47:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-19T20:52:39.353+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Singh is Kinng - Review</title><content type='html'>Horrible...For those of you who were not too keen on watching Singh is Kinng but gave it a floating thought anyway, drown the floating thoughts. But for those of you who might still want to go for it, continue reading the rest of the review to know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie aims to do what Bollywood has been doing for ages - those "humorous" moments which have to be loud and clear enough to be understood by the truck-driving movie-going audience, romance with the hero taking it all (sorry for the spoiler but 10 minutes into the movie and you can guess it anyway), and those emotional scenes between Ma and Beti etc etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Akshay Kumar plays Happy Singh who is sent to Australia by the village panchayat to get back the King(Sonu Sood) who is the biggest underworld Don. The King is being highly notorious and and his parents back in the Indian village want him to come back as they haven't seen him for ages. Akshay Kumar is accompanied by Om Puri on"Sardar's day out" but he looks really wasted in the role. The typical Bollywood sequence with a slight hint of Sardar masala follows which leaves you highly disappointed after the big Singh is Kinng talks. The movie also throws in Ranvir Shorey into the fray later but he too is wasted....am I over-using the word? (If you have seen the movie already you wouldn't really blame me for it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now the reason why people might still want to go for it...Katrina Kaif. She plays the Beti I talked about earlier to Kirron Kher. She is to marry Ranvir Shorey but then other predictable things happen. She again as predictable, looks absolutely stunning in the movie - she might have been the only reason that kept me from walking out at half-time. Oh yeah, the other reason was that it was raining heavily during half-time and I had no rain gear. Also, Javed Jafrrey who plays King's blind younger brother also gives us a few funny moments with his hilarious Punjabi accent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end, I would like you to know that I am not one of those guys who goes for every other movie that comes out every other Friday. I am just a regular college goer with my small fixed sum of money for movie-watching and hence I might not be doing justice to the movie (it could be worse though!!) - you are free to go watch the movie, come back, review my review and the movie. And yeah, I had slept off for some 20-30 mins during the first half and the storyline I talked about was what I could make out (which was evident) from my pre and post nap sessions. So if you are gonna go watch the movie, do it for Katrina Kaif and the empty theatres...mark my words, all you "out on first-date" guys!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1219615215235785311-2673286745401002495?l=mahatmababa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/feeds/2673286745401002495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1219615215235785311&amp;postID=2673286745401002495' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/2673286745401002495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/2673286745401002495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/2008/08/singh-is-kinng-review.html' title='Singh is Kinng - Review'/><author><name>mahatma_baba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05364523304021785386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219615215235785311.post-6315155339952050893</id><published>2008-08-17T01:38:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-17T01:45:50.912+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Untitled (I titled it 'Untitled')</title><content type='html'>You wanna write but you can't think of what to write about. So what do you do? Well, here's what I did when trying to come up with this article:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Kept staring at the trees outside my window - now I know the entire wind patterns of South Bangalore.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Winked at the fire alarm indicator which kept winking at me all the time. It might have got so pissed off by now that it won't wink when there is actually a fire&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Kept selecting random words on the screen and appreciated what a wonderful invention the mouse is (yeah, what a name too!) and to add to it, the middle scroll button&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chewed on a piece of gum for 7 hours till the protons and neutrons got separated and weird electrostatic forces started taking control of my mouth - anything within a radius of 1m from my mouth went into my mouth.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Formed an entire dandruff shedding camp on the keyboard. I need to have a bath more often, and buy some shampoo too.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Munched on an entire packet of banana chips - God they're disgusting.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Reminded myself of how long my nails are and how much dirt has accumulated underneath them and wondered whether "my" dirt has a different more toxic chemical composition&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Rolled from end to end of the room on my chair. I managed to topple a table and my laundry bag in the process and also kicked my dog. I need a rolling chair with a steering wheel for better control.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Came up with the one liner "Hot girls are made in heaven...hot dogs in ovens".&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Thought about whether the one-liner makes any sense.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Decided it does and I will add it to "My best one-liners ever" list if people actually find it funny. And celebrate it with a hot dog. Make it a hot dog and beer&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Wondered if The Eagles would be as popular if they were called, let's say The Pigeons or The Hens or worse, The Cocks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Checked out other blogs to make this list more comprehensive. Unfortunately, the topic turned out to be just too original.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1219615215235785311-6315155339952050893?l=mahatmababa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/feeds/6315155339952050893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1219615215235785311&amp;postID=6315155339952050893' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/6315155339952050893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/6315155339952050893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/2008/08/untitled-i-titled-it-untitled.html' title='Untitled (I titled it &apos;Untitled&apos;)'/><author><name>mahatma_baba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05364523304021785386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1219615215235785311.post-4849220428258413711</id><published>2008-08-15T12:36:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-15T12:55:52.104+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Starting off</title><content type='html'>Well, why on Earth would you be reading this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;You are as jobless as I was when I wrote this.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You are someone I know and sent you an email requesting you to read it in your free time. So now you are free or you doing it just as a gesture of goodwill.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You are someone I don't know but someone I know passed you the link asking you to read the blog of someone he knew.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You googled for mahatma+baba and found me on results page 189.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;No matter which of the above reason(s) is/are true, here you are, having put in quite a few mouse clicks reading my blog. I would try my best not to disappoint you...yeah thats why I haven't put up my photograph. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well, so how exactly do I start off with my first blog entry? I will go ahead tell you some random facts about myself (inspired from &lt;a href="http://mintchutney.blogspot.com/2005/06/50-ways-to-leave-your-lover.html"&gt;MintChutney&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I used to hate blogs till 3 months back. I thought they were a waste of time both for the reader and the writer. I still think the same - its just that joblessness is a bigger waste.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Well, if you haven't been pissed off enough by fact #1 and continue to read this, here's fact #2 - All my online profiles say that I "play" basketball, football, squash and table tennis. But the only sport that I am good at is underarm cricket.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have been wearing glasses ever since I was in Class 2 which would be at 7 years of age. Its only 3 years back that I moved to contact lenses which makes me "think" that I am a lot cooler now.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Okay I picked this one up from &lt;a href="http://thecompulsiveconfessor.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;- I sound a lot more interesting on blog than I actually am.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I hate making people wait for me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I can get dressed and ready in 3.55 seconds. Then I have to wait for others to get ready.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When I am hungry, I eat. When I am bored, I eat. When I am lonely, I eat. When I am confused, I eat. When there is nothing more left to eat, I go buy some more.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am an avid book reader but I still haven't been able to get past Atlas Shrugged pg 249.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I never watch a British movie in theatres - I need the subtitles.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love beer - that's the second best thing God ever created. The best is unlimited beer.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Just like people thought Atlas Shrugged is the way the world is supposed to function, I thought Five Point Someone is how my college life is supposed to function.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am really bad with directions - I have to call up friends to ask how to reach my home.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It took me 1 and a half days to compile this list.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Keep coming back for more...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1219615215235785311-4849220428258413711?l=mahatmababa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/feeds/4849220428258413711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1219615215235785311&amp;postID=4849220428258413711' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/4849220428258413711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1219615215235785311/posts/default/4849220428258413711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mahatmababa.blogspot.com/2008/08/starting-off.html' title='Starting off'/><author><name>mahatma_baba</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05364523304021785386</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
