<?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-19213331</id><updated>2011-04-21T11:34:08.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Makes sense</title><subtitle type='html'>Whether you like it or not.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</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>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19213331.post-6426212463128184761</id><published>2007-05-27T23:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-27T23:56:51.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Metro - the movie</title><content type='html'>It is a Hindi movie, first things first. So now if you read on, I am not to blame. Consider this a disclaimer. The only one you will get in the begining and which is not in fine print. Maybe it is my years as a consultant that have forced me to write CYA's (for the lucky ones who dont know what that means, it is a 'cover your ass' document)&lt;br /&gt;The reason we wanted to watch this movie was to catch up with whats happening in India, in the metros. We try to suck in as much as possible in our 2-3 week long trips but it isn't enough. Hence the involuntary dependence on Bollywood.&lt;br /&gt;The movie shows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;One husband of 8 years sleeping with someone in his office &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One struggling actor hitting on that husbands wife &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One senior couple who ... well how do I put this... ummm.. is trying to revamp their relationship which had died a few decades ago (remind me to tell you more about this) &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One young professional who wants to make it big by whatever means possible (well actually only one, by allowing his superiors, all of them, to use his apartment for their sexcapades)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Another young professional who has a crush on her collegue who tells her that he loves her and introduces her to his parents but is secretly gay and is doing it with her bald boss&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One suicidal young woman who is doing it with the husband in point 1 above&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One ultra practical middle aged man who wants to get married and does get married to the young professional in point 5 above(my pick for best character in the movie)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;One middle aged wife who gives up her career to raise her daughter but is not happy in her marriage and is seeking happiness elsewhere (with the struggling actor in point 2 above)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Certain other characters&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Going by this, we the meek audiance gathered that there is a lot of sex happening in the metros. And most of this sex is illegitmate. So thats all we gathered. Now if this is true, I am forced to say it is quite sad. Dont get me wrong. I am not against sex or people having a good time. Well we live only once and we should make the most of it yaada yaada yaada... But we should not screw up our lives in the process. I tend to preach and the popularity of my blog takes a beating. So as per the requests from my sponsers, I will not preach any more.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So what really is happening in todays metros? I know India is changing quite rapidly. On the economic front I read good things in the papers. On the political front... well I dont read a lot of good things in the papers. But for the social undercurrents, I dont know where to go. My friends who have gone back from the US tell me stories about how the youth are wasteful. But thats probably what people senior to me said about our generation. Maybe evolution is all about increasing wastefulness. Maybe not. I dont know... Somebody please make a better movie next time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-6426212463128184761?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/6426212463128184761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=6426212463128184761' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/6426212463128184761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/6426212463128184761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2007/05/metro-movie.html' title='Metro - the movie'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</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-19213331.post-116054259711102922</id><published>2006-10-10T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-24T22:28:28.150-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A nation at war!</title><content type='html'>The living room was full of people, relatives mostly. There were a few close friends. Everyone seemed low that he was leaving again. He had barely spent a week with his newly wed wife when the call of duty beckoned. "How long is it going to be this time?" one aunt asked. He looked at his wife. Should he repeat what he had told her that morning or should he say the truth. "I am not sure" seemed to be the best compromise.&lt;br /&gt;The younger brother and one of his friends were busy bringing the luggage out. The mother was busy finishing the last set of parathas for the journey and later. Mrs. Singh who lived two houses away seemed to have tears swelling up in her eyes. More so because it had been 6 months since her own son left. A weekly phone call is all she got of him now.&lt;br /&gt;As the cab showed up his wife burst into tears. She had one of her friends with her. He could not do anything and just quickly touched his parents feet... forced a smile and said good bye to friends and gave one last hug to his wife. She refused to let go for quite some time. And in one quick maneuvre, he got out of the embrace, into the cab and the cab started moving.&lt;br /&gt;As he sat looking at the familiar streets of his neighborhood pass by, he could not prevent those tears he had so efficiently fought back. The cab driver seemed used to scenes like this and just didnt say a word for quite some time.&lt;br /&gt;It was not after a good 30 minutes in heavy traffic that he began wondering "Why do I do this?" Why do I leave everything I care for and go. Is it just money or is it more. He was doing something he wanted to do for a long time. Infact, he had taken efforts to see to it that it was he who would be sent and not anybody else he worked with. Only if he would have known that going onsite to the US was going to be as tough as this. If only...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-116054259711102922?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/116054259711102922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=116054259711102922' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/116054259711102922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/116054259711102922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2006/10/nation-at-war.html' title='A nation at war!'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19213331.post-115760168874322058</id><published>2006-09-06T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T21:01:28.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything makes sense... in retrospect</title><content type='html'>Sometimes people behave in a way you just cant understand. My boss, for no rhyme or reason, started behaving very rudely with me. I knew I was slacking, but he isn't smart enough to know that. Later I found that he had done that to others too. And they weren't slacking. See.. I had told you, he isn't smart enough. I was disturbed. I try not to be rude and expect the same. I took the "Do unto others as you would like others to do unto you" lesson in 5th standard (note: me not saying grade here.. aha!) moral science class too seriously.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, later on, I was to find out that his wife is expecting. It all made sense. The dude was freaking out. Our company was being acquired.. our jobs were in limbo and he was undertaking a huge new responsibility. It made sense, in retrospect.&lt;br /&gt;This is especially true after a break up. All the wierdness, all the pre-break up confusion, everything suddenly makes sense once the ordeal is done.  I have so many examples of this, it isn't even funny. No, not all mine. I am cool but not that cool. Anyway, I cant quote any because of NDAs I have signed. But take my word for it.&lt;br /&gt;It is also true scientifically speaking. Many many years ago, when all the non indian people didnt know the solar system and all that stuff, they must have been amazed by how the sun rose in the east and set in the west. (I need to take a moments pause whenever I make a statement as scientific as that to make sure I got it right) Now, it makes perfect sense does it not. Many many exaples are there!&lt;br /&gt;So my point being, (dont you guys just hate this part... my kids are going to disown me at the age of 6) if things dont make sense, wait. They will. Someday, everything will. (I am not generalizing OK.. I said someday.. I didnt specify which day that is)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-115760168874322058?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/115760168874322058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=115760168874322058' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115760168874322058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115760168874322058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2006/09/everything-makes-sense-in-retrospect.html' title='Everything makes sense... in retrospect'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19213331.post-115636568314182258</id><published>2006-08-23T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-23T13:56:28.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Changing rules</title><content type='html'>Lets say you are playing some game. Soccer (I know I know... I should say football) for example. You have a team and you are scoring goals. The opponents are tough but you are winning. The game is nearing the end. 10 minutes to go. The refree blows the whistle and calls you and the other captain for a quick discussion. Yes you are the captain, dont forget, it is all imaginary. The ref says " We are going to have a slight change in the rules. The team scoring fewer goals will be declared the winners. Good luck!" Blows the whistle and the game has started again.&lt;br /&gt;Consider yourself in this situation. What would you do? First reaction, naturally, WTF! It is going to take some time to sink in. What did he just say? You look at the other captain and you suddenly find a pal. You both stand biwildered while the rest of your teams are working hard to lose the game, as per the new rules. What do you do? Try to take the ball and score an own goal? Your team mates would think you have lost it. They would let you score of course, cause they cant imagine what you are just about to do. The other captain sees your scheme and tries to prevent you from doing it. There is mayhem. Nightmare eh?&lt;br /&gt;You can kick the ball out and start conveying the messege to your key deputies about what the ref just told you. Will they trust you? Will they blindly set aside everything they have ever done and follow your lead? Not everybody of course.&lt;br /&gt;Think about this. Cause whether you like it or not, you will be in this situation some day. Where you have to let go of all that you thought was right and begin working on a new set of rules, a new strategy. You may not acknowledge it, but you will be in this situation some day. Be prepared as our scout master would have said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-115636568314182258?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/115636568314182258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=115636568314182258' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115636568314182258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115636568314182258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2006/08/changing-rules.html' title='Changing rules'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19213331.post-115475423723624392</id><published>2006-08-04T22:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-09T21:07:55.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Light and sound show</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4758/1897/1600/P1011229.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4758/1897/320/P1011229.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4758/1897/1600/P1011216.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4758/1897/320/P1011216.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw two totally different light and sound shows two nights in a row. They were both highly enthralling experiences which pretty much covered the entire spectrum of visual pleasures.&lt;br /&gt;First Night: Vegas Baby! &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4758/1897/1600/P1011206.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4758/1897/320/P1011206.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to see this place to believe it. I was looking down from the plane as we were approaching Vegas. I dont know what I was expecting but I certainly remember feeling disappointed. Wonder how that works: you may forget everything about an experience but the feeling sticks. Anyway, I rented a Crown Victoria (parents comfort is all a son can think of you see). When I went to pick it up, the sign at the counter said "Do not touch. May be EXTREMELY hot." I had to check if they were lying... you could have cooked an omlette on the metallic counter in 10 seconds flat. I still remember feeling disappointed. It was just begining to get dark when we hit the strip.&lt;br /&gt;Man, by the sole desire to earn more money, has created a replica of every place you would want to be at. I was in awe. The strip, the Bellagio fountains, the casino interiors... the best light and sound show I had seen in many years. Moms comment "&lt;em&gt;Atta dahaa varsha Dagdusheth baghitla naahi taree chalel"&lt;/em&gt; Dads comment &lt;em&gt;"Vees". &lt;/em&gt;Basically meaning... they had never seen anything like this and didnt expect to see anything like this for the next X (No consensus on the value of X) years.&lt;br /&gt;Second Night: The Grand Canyon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4758/1897/1600/P1011275.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4758/1897/320/P1011275.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This show was a lot quiter. Not that there was no sound. There was, the wind, the birds, the rustle of leaves, the "&lt;em&gt;Jaasti pudhe jau nakos&lt;/em&gt;" or "Be careful" from the mom. It was definitely a treat for the ears beaten down by lot more irksome noises. Except the last piece ofcourse.  I just sat there watching the show. It was quite unlike the one we saw in one of the casinos the earlier night. I was with parents to dont get ideas already. About the show in Vegas that is. The sun kept peeping through the clouds, and each time, the spot light was on some different form that nature had carved over 6 million years. It was quite unlike anything I had seen. I liked it so much, I offered to be back there to see what the sunrise does to this place. That is a lot, especially since the sun rises around 5:15 AM this time of the year. I was back the following morning. &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4758/1897/1600/P1011307.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4758/1897/320/P1011307.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We did get to see some real wildlife. Mooses and cayotes. That does qualify as wildlife. I have a brochure that says that. I could post a lot more pictures but I am not going to give away my hard work just like that. You have to earn it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now to the moral of the story (Why??? cause thats me. It aint a story, or a blog for that matter, if there aint a moral)&lt;br /&gt;All the money people spent in putting up Vegas, I still liked the Canyon more. So moral is, no money or man made grandeur can replace a 6 million year old meticulous work of nature. But since we aint got that many years here.. Vegas will do :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trivia: The first picture of the canyon is the sunset and the second is the sunrise, so was I on the south rim or the north rim?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-115475423723624392?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/115475423723624392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=115475423723624392' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115475423723624392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115475423723624392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2006/08/light-and-sound-show.html' title='Light and sound show'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19213331.post-115285677491204791</id><published>2006-07-13T22:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T22:59:34.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>Love. A myth. People say they love you. You tell someone you love them. What does it mean? The human being has been able to define to minutest details the most intricate things, from atoms to black holes to chlorophyl to inventory turns. Why is it that none such exists for love? I am sure there are some. This is what dictionary.com has to say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/love"&gt;http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/love&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it is an ineffable feeling of affection. What does that mean? Are there levels for these feelings? How is one to know that the current level one feels for another person, animal, thing etc. can be qualified as love? Well they say you know. If you know, then why cant someone put it down on paper for me? They say, it has to do with the heart, and not the brain. The heart is a pumping device so I dont buy it. Maybe there are various sections of the brain and the one dedicated for love is located on the opposite side of the one where logic resides. I do not know. And what is even more intriguing is the relation of the feeling called love with a whole bunch of other things.&lt;br /&gt;1. Sex: We were taught (in our school believe it or not) that sex is the purest expression of love. There can be no sex without love. Vice versa was not mentioned cause this was being taught by a priest. This was convenient as I could tell myself, sex will happen when I fall in love. But when do I know I am in love? And just being in love does not justify having sex as per the traditional Indian culture and all that good stuff. So ... what are we talking about again???&lt;br /&gt;2. Marriage: Now this is a cool one. I believe there cannot be marriage without love. I do not know what love is but that is a different problem. So how many people get married to the person they are in love with? Not too many in India atleast. Love will happen say the preachers of arranged marriages. Maybe it is true. But what if it does not happen? Scary. Single status rocks!&lt;br /&gt;3. Eternity: When one is in love, it has to be this forever thing. Till death do us part. Errr..... turns out, nothing is eternal. This I believe like I believe there is Santa Claus. There is! I have seen him. Anyway. So say you know you are in love (yaa right!). You know that there is just the right amount of heart, brain and other critical organs giving you the signal that this is it. The search has ended. Now, it has to be eternal. Have you ever heard any chic flick or mills and boon (I haven't read one.. I have general issues reading books so that helps) character go.. "I love you... today" That is what they should say. How can they say I love you and promise to love you for ever? Love is a feeling right? So how can one say that they are going to feel a certain way for ever and ever and ever??? How? It is like saying, I feel happy and I promise to feel that way for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;Well this stuff is really bothering me today cause TBS was showing Sleepless in Seattle and FOX was showing American Pie and one should never switch between those two movies. It screws up your head man!&lt;br /&gt;So dear onlookers and sceptics and believers and all them peoples out there.... come one and come all and define this damn thing for me. I thought I knew what it was for the longest time... and I didnt. So in my free time during sleepless nights, I wonder. What it eeeeez?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-115285677491204791?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/115285677491204791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=115285677491204791' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115285677491204791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115285677491204791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2006/07/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</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>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19213331.post-115112162804593523</id><published>2006-06-23T20:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T21:00:28.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing up...</title><content type='html'>As kids, we all had a lot of questions. My mom tells me, I would not go to sleep without asking "What are we going to do tomorrow?" I remember three of my uncles had taken me for a hike to Sinhagad (an old fort in the viscinity of Pune-India). They were all bachelors then. On our ride back, in an ovecrowded PMT bus, I asked in a pretty loud voice after reading an advertisement inside the bus, "What is the meaning of abortion?" I just remember the embarrased look on their faces.&lt;br /&gt;And as we grew up, we started finding answers. Until pretty recently, I thought growing up was finding answers to every question there is. And then, a slew of questions began accumulating for which I had no answers. I tried real hard to find logic based on whatever I knew. I asked around, to people who I thought knew better. You know, the kinds that have had dope and all.. and seen a different light and all that stuff. They had no clue either. Neither the elders nor the wise.&lt;br /&gt;It has finally occured to me, after endless struggles with myslef, that growing up is not finding all the answers. It is knowing that there are questions that have no answer. And it is being comfortable with this fact. I am still strugglinig to come to terms with this. But that is what it is. Until I find something else of course.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-115112162804593523?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/115112162804593523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=115112162804593523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115112162804593523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115112162804593523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2006/06/growing-up.html' title='Growing up...'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</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-19213331.post-115086218536209145</id><published>2006-06-20T20:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T20:56:25.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Google spreadsheets</title><content type='html'>Got my hands on this baby last week. I must say, I saw fireworks. I saw the future of computing. 5 reasons why I think it is the beginning of the new tomorrow:&lt;br /&gt;1. People dont want to pay for software. Google has revolutionized the way people think and operate. My company just ran out of money and had to be sold because we were selling software.&lt;br /&gt;2. It is time that computing and communication came together to create collaborative work platforms. What is better if all this is already paid for when you pay for your internet connection.&lt;br /&gt;3. People have been chasing the big fish. But there are only so many big fish in the ocean. It is time people realized that the small fish, collectively, are much more valuable. And it does not take a gigantic net and hundreds of harpoons and a huge ass boat to catch one. Any fisherman with a make shift hook is in business.&lt;br /&gt;4. If you use the Lewandowski method for forecasting sale, you are likely to achieve 90% forecast accuracy (I know.. it depends). If you use simple moving averages using the google spreadsheets, you may get to 80%. Low hanging fruit do not require much effort.&lt;br /&gt;5. With the kind of volume which will begin using these softwares, money is definitely going to flow. This will help the creators to bridge the functionality gap, thus totally eliminating competition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Google... hmm. Wonder what Microsoft is thinking??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-115086218536209145?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/115086218536209145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=115086218536209145' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115086218536209145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115086218536209145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2006/06/google-spreadsheets.html' title='Google spreadsheets'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19213331.post-115043499438630432</id><published>2006-06-15T21:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T22:16:34.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To go or not to go.. part 2</title><content type='html'>More questions... just when u people thought I would leave you alone to enjoy every day as it comes!!&lt;br /&gt;How much money is enough???&lt;br /&gt;I am going to be frank... I have not figured this one out. I want a bunglow in Pune... well technically.. I have one. But I want one with a swimming pool and in the Aundh area so my son (I told you I plan at every given opportunity) can study in Loyola High School! So how much money is needed??? I dont know.. a few crores today. By the time I have a few crores (contingent upon me continuing to bear corporate insanity and marrying the only daughter of a rich and ailing business tycoon) it will be more than that. It is evident I cant count money over a few crores when I am thinking rupees. Somehow a billion dollars dont have as much glamour as a few crore rupees. To me atleast. Because I have yearned for a 2 rupee paav-vadaa like I have never yearned for anything in my life.&lt;br /&gt;Any way. So that is how I began analyzing how much money I need. Turns out.. not a good way to begin.&lt;br /&gt;So I began discussing this with my mom. She has always been an excellent sounding board with interjected "Khanya purte kamavsheel naa???" "You will earn enough to buy a square meal right???" and "kaahi khara naahi baba" "This is FUBAR". Somehow, the right emotion does not come across in English. People who dont know Marathi, my apologies. So, as mothers usually do, she added another question to the list... which kinda sums it all...&lt;br /&gt;What will make you happy???&lt;br /&gt;This is in line with what do u want... but you dont always want things that make you happy. I know this does not make sense.. but i have real life examples... where what i have wanted has not made me happy.&lt;br /&gt;The obvious follow up question...&lt;br /&gt;What is happiness???&lt;br /&gt;This is where I usually lose my audience.. when it starts getting philosphical. So i am going to stop here. I think I need to work on that last question. I also have to work on my left leg kicks in soccer. I missed a sitter today because I had to move the ball to my right foot. I was good with my left as well... but in testing times, the reliable one comes out. No stupid ass puns intented. Over and out :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-115043499438630432?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/115043499438630432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=115043499438630432' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115043499438630432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/115043499438630432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2006/06/to-go-or-not-to-go-part-2.html' title='To go or not to go.. part 2'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</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><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19213331.post-114956798864270428</id><published>2006-06-05T21:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T21:26:28.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Well its nothing really...</title><content type='html'>I fringe when I see road kill&lt;br /&gt;A butcher says, its nothing really...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother picks weeds with yellow flowers like they were diamonds&lt;br /&gt;I say, it is nothing really...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My collegue hogs at the local Udipi like it was his last meal&lt;br /&gt;My mother says, it is nothing really...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A junior in my college gets into Harvard and is thrilled to bits&lt;br /&gt;My collegue says its nothing really...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I have made a very valid point here&lt;br /&gt;A general onlooker is likely to say....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-114956798864270428?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/114956798864270428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=114956798864270428' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/114956798864270428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/114956798864270428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2006/06/well-its-nothing-really.html' title='Well its nothing really...'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19213331.post-114861364780585150</id><published>2006-05-25T19:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-25T20:20:47.826-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Women and soccer</title><content type='html'>Why do girls play soccer!!! I detest! Very strongly. Until today, I didnt really mind. It was nice, almost.  Something better to look at while you got your work out. Well for us bachelors, its the only time. But something happened today on the field that has totally thrown me off the idea.&lt;br /&gt;Well I got a ruthless, shameless kick on my shin by this extremely pretty looking (hot if you are a guy) Russian girl. Dont get me wrong, I have been kicked several times before. While playng soccer that is. But this one was different.&lt;br /&gt;The lady had nothing to do with the ball. I had given away the ball to a fellow team mate seconds before. If you have played soccer, it is the equivalent of eons. And yet this woman decided to give me one in the shin. Hard. Cold. Predetermined. Evil.&lt;br /&gt;Well I had been playing around quite a bit. How often does a hot Russian girl run around an Indian engineer. So I had the ball and I moved this way and that way and stopped and again this way and that way. I had forgotten we were all there to score goals. And then, the sedentary desi engineer realized there was no more air left in him. So I passed it to my nearest team mate. And then, the blow. Deliberate, precisely executed. I am no wimp. I have taken severe blows without a sound. But believe me, my shin is swollen today.&lt;br /&gt;How could she be so cold. Is it because she knew I would not get back at her? Is it becuase she failed in all her attempts to get the ball from me? I was just playing by the rules. She looked triumphed in the end. Like the she had achieved what she set out for. Was it my shin she was after all this time? She obviously didnt apologize. Who apologizes for winning??&lt;br /&gt;Now, I can take all this too. Would have been difficult, but she is so pretty, and that accent... yes I would have forgiven her. But minutes later, she ended up brushing against this south american guy. Well so what if he has a six pack? He cant even run a simple select query to save his life. He is not the subject of this blog. So anyway, there was this slight brushing. Now, if it would have been me, it would have been the most action I have seen in years. But for me, it is the kick in the shin. Immediately following that, she had to say "Ohh did I hurt you?" in that super sexy accent of hers. Hurt you?!?!?! Hulloo! I am still limping here... "Oh no no... " (Even that sounds kinda sexy in a Spanish accent) and he put his hand on her shoulder for support. And it stayed there with niether party showing any intensions of returning to the game.&lt;br /&gt;Hence I detest women playing soccer. They kill the spirit of the game. I dont mind them playing against themselves. I mean an all womens game. Go ahead! But when we men are at it, please stay out!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-114861364780585150?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/114861364780585150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=114861364780585150' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/114861364780585150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/114861364780585150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2006/05/women-and-soccer.html' title='Women and soccer'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19213331.post-114810353853007544</id><published>2006-05-19T22:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T22:38:58.543-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To go or not to go... well sort of</title><content type='html'>Been in the US five years now. Had a helluva time. Learnt so much in my masters that sometimes, my head hurt. Maybe it was the cheap liquor but I am told smelling liquor does not have that effect on the head. Yet most of the learning happened while I was least expecting it. Maybe it was just the fact that I was out on my own for the first time. Maybe it was that I was finally going through the metamorphosis that people call growing up. Currently have a dream job. Well, cant be a dream if I am doing it right. So lets say, a once upon a time dream job. Feel like I have gained eveything that I had to from this country, and lost too. Feel like it is time to go back home. A feeling compunded by the fact that my parents are visiting, reminding me of all the things I have so deeply missed. Well I have always eaten everything my mom has made with a lot of love. There is more... obviously.&lt;br /&gt;Once again, a man stands at crossroads (Dont call me a sexist just as yet.. I am a man after all and in a blog one talks about oneself!) There is the right thing to do, and the easy thing to do, all over again. Well, cant tell which is which really. Some day, one seems right and the other easy (and not right.. perhaps) some day, the exact opposite. The situation forces me to ask myself a question I have been avoiding for quite some time now. What do I want? Simple eh... just ask yourself and see.. it is one of the most frustratingly freakingly obnoxious questions ever!!! (paaji control.. I hear someone saying) Well the reason why this question is tough is, no points for guessing it, the answer is difficult. But what is worse, is that if you know the answer by some wierd stroke of luck, fortune, brilliance, whatever, you are now forced to act on it. Why? Well think about this, walk to a grocer in India and say "Bhaisaab aloo kitne ko diya?" and when he answers, walk away. Or go to a Quiznos and ask "What kind of breads do you have?" And when you get the answer, reply with the correct expression and say"Excellent!" and walk away. I dont know if I am making myself clear here... but the beauty of a blog is.. who the f*** cares.&lt;br /&gt;So coming back to what do I want. Well to answer this open ended question is tough. At the moment, I want a good nights sleep. But to tackle it, one needs to break this question down.&lt;br /&gt;1) What do I want in my career?&lt;br /&gt;2) What do I want in my personal life?&lt;br /&gt;3) What do I want from my spare time? (personal life and spare time are different is something I learnt here, not in the university obviously)&lt;br /&gt;So there, seems simple enough. I have answers to each one. I am not going to publish them on a blog, obviously. Especially the personal life stuff is kinda R rated. But I do have these answers. But the vote seems divided. Cant make a decision inspite of picking three questions (for the statitically anal). So now what. Make more questions... Maybe. But time for bed now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-114810353853007544?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/114810353853007544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=114810353853007544' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/114810353853007544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/114810353853007544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2006/05/to-go-or-not-to-go-well-sort-of.html' title='To go or not to go... well sort of'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19213331.post-113267665716655092</id><published>2005-11-22T08:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-22T08:24:17.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First</title><content type='html'>There is always a first.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19213331-113267665716655092?l=mpanditr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/feeds/113267665716655092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=19213331&amp;postID=113267665716655092' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/113267665716655092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19213331/posts/default/113267665716655092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mpanditr.blogspot.com/2005/11/first.html' title='First'/><author><name>Nalin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04281166708673890631</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>
