tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34660137351843122882024-03-13T08:50:37.557+05:30Sour CanvasImaginate. Create.Experience.UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.comBlogger154125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-18180690044510371162013-09-24T18:20:00.000+05:302013-09-24T18:21:14.151+05:30Digital Analogue <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<u><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Digital
Analogue<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Stalling,
Falling,<br />
Making, Breaking,<br />
Shaking, Losing,<br />
Rattling, Battling.<br />
Craving Whiskey, <br />
Finding Rum.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Building,
Breaking,<br />
Talking, Bearing,<br />
Sharing, Caring<br />
Arguing, Lying<br />
Sacrificing Sleep,<br />
No sex, No savings,<br />
But the baby crying,<br />
it just won’t stop.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Mind
over matter,<br />
Perception, Reality,<br />
Perspective, Rhetoric,<br />
Engines of creation,<br />
Ignition, Thought provoking,<br />
Action, Words, Sentences long,<br />
The larger picture, detail<br />
ding dong,<br />
Ideas up in smoke, <br />
Security false,<br />
One more must.<br />
A slow painful death made easier <br />
Spare us the mental rust.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">Networked,
Connected,<br />
Informed half, <br />
Sentimental, attached,<br />
Logical, Detached,<br />
Make merry for now,for<br />
Anyone can write,<br />
Anyone can wrong.<br />
Anyone can praise,<br />
Anyone can paint,<br />
Anyone can demolish,<br />
Anyone can make,<br />
Anyone can break.<br />
Lay a track, A string section here,<br />
Learning the instrument,<br />
Don’t need to, Never<br />
From now,<br />
Never never,<br />
Never ever.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Too
much clutter,<br />
Rampant litter,<br />
Too many tools,<br />
Media glitter.<br />
A mind that struggles,<br />
A generation lost,<br />
Synthesized eggs falling<br />
from birds without nests,<br />
Like empty shells, that drop<br />
From rifles in conflict zones,<br />
Souvenirs of testing times on display<br />
For Friday night guests.<br />
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Dignity and honour a sense of relief,<br />
Minds that pondered on possibilities,<br />
Eyes that were deep oceans of belief,<br />
Curtains shielding the soul<br />
Doorways into this ever expanding, <br />
Infinite universe now, <br />
Lifelessly ebb away into<br />
Constructed convenient<br />
Tabletop interfaces and desktop windows.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
answers were always there,<br />
In the sky, In the ocean,<br />
In the wind and the Sun,<br />
In the universe and speculation,<br />
In love and in loss<br />
In living and dying,<br />
In heaven and hell<br />
In Song and dance,<br />
In Science and in art.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: white;">The
answers were always here<br />
We just chose not to look,<br />
The answers were always here<br />
Right here, within us<br />
Right here, <br />
In the palms of our hands. <br />
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UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-52201691417053449042013-08-10T14:17:00.003+05:302013-09-23T10:28:58.184+05:30Some of Man's Greatest Ironies.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">The irony of man is</span></b></div>
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His fear of love<br />
And affinity for prejudice.</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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The irony of man is</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">His enemy, infinite love.</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">His constant companion, fear,</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">Without whose company he feels lost.</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">The irony of man is<br />
The knowledge of his own possessed hatred and rage,</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">But ignorance of the same.</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">The irony of man</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">Is his ability to judge,</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">But his inability to judge wisely.</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">The irony of man,</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">Is his intolerance for the innocent man born of another</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="color: white;">But reverence for his own drunkard bastard father.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="color: white;">The irony of man is his ability<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="color: white;">To perceive, but his rampant failure<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">To judge his own perceptions.</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="color: white;"><br />
The irony of man is his ability to live<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="color: white;">But constant bitter reluctance to do so.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="color: white;">The irony of man is just that,<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">That he calls his routine pitiful existence</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">A living while life slowly ebbs away.</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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The irony of man is man himself.<br />
The irony of man is struggling to live<br />
To find life’s answers,<br />
While life passes him by,<br />
With every rising sun,<br />
With every turning tide,<br />
With every beat of his heart,<br />
Within every breath,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
Within every song,<br />
Within every word,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
Within every gesture.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="color: white;">The irony of man is just that,<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="color: white;">That he exists.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="color: white;">The irony of man is just that,<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt;">That he is.</span></b><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-85896527815671015502012-12-19T21:39:00.002+05:302012-12-20T01:30:12.933+05:30The Mayans got something right after all.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A mentally unstable white boy shoots up a class full of kindergartners and all they will talk about is introducing more Christian doctrine into schools and educational systems because “God” and “morality” will prevent people from picking up guns and shooting innocent people. A black boy of the same age, cranks up the volume in a parking lot in his new car celebrating his 16<sup>th</sup> birthday and immediately becomes the object of suspicion.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Many miles away, a woman is gang raped in a moving bus belonging to a well known bus contractor, one of the few who render their services to schools in the capital city of a country that’s the second biggest market globally for practically every industry and all they will talk about is punishing the rapist and how men are inherently stupid. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Hang the rapist they say. I say okay. Chemical Castration they say. Okay. Death to him! Okay. The victim is still, for the lack of better wording, royally screwed. No talk about rehabilitation, little talk about preventive measures, little or no talk about societal construct, how it takes generations and hundreds of years for humans to accept and change the way they think. No talk about how to make things change faster. And of course people forget about the guy that tried to protect that girl and was almost bludgeoned to death. It takes years for people to accept ideas radically different than theirs...radically different than what they've been brought up to believe in, whether it is an imaginary old man who’s got your back while ignoring an entire continent or a race, or whether it’s one sex being superior to another.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">If it took centuries for most people to accept that the Earth is not flat, but round and that it does indeed revolve around the Sun, and that there are billions of similar complex systems that make the universe what it is, and that we are nothing but a bag of meat on a speck of dust with no real purpose while being the result of a series of cosmic ‘accidents’, how do you expect a group of boys who grow up seeing their mother dutifully conceding to every whim and fancy of their drunken idiot of a father,being forced to respect that shit hole of a union, while being brought up to believe they’re horses on steroids, being segregated from women from when they’re born, to not rape a woman because she seems “full of it” or “she was asking for it” because of “the way she was looking at me”...”why would she smile and look at me that way? Why would she waste my time?” "That'll show them" No talk about rape being a power tool. Pissed off with him? Rape his sister. Individuals do it, groups do it, heck even armies do it.Men are impaled, women are raped on a daily basis. It sends a clear message: We are in control, you are not. Power struggles could be between two classes, castes, communities, countries, or religions even species.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It’s the same lines every time. It’s like a romantic comedy; the plot is invariably always the same, just different faces, different places, different papers, different reporters, different politicians, a different ‘us’.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Then there’s the townsfolk, the moneyed ones who live in big cities with tall buildings and have the shortest of tempers, the most isolated and depressing personal lives...people who come from backgrounds of privilege.....who think their way of life is civilization. They’re amusing because they debate, they talk, and they have this illusion of happiness....they believe that a better car, a better spouse, true love, wearing better clothes and judging others’ is what being happy is all about. They value their career more than their life and it defines them, the kind of people they meet and greet or eat with. They're also emotionally vulnerable, sensitive and prey to people who think from their head and not from their heart.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">You ask the ones who have less they’ll defend themselves and or rationalize by saying “Oh the money doesn't matter” “This kind of work seldom pays well, but it’s what I like doing “Aah well that’s life” “It’s God’s will” ““All up to the big guy up there”.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">You ask the ones who have more “I didn't take a single day off in my twenties” “I worked hard to get here” “The government still takes 40% of my earnings...and keeps half of it for themselves, the bastards! ” “I was lucky” “It’s all up to the big guy up there” </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The fact is ladies and gentlemen, that we human beings have conditioned ourselves to be ashamed of our bodies, our sexuality, our urges, and our instincts, our natural born curiosity about things, states of mind and consciousness and our feelings...some of which might be uncomfortable. We are taught to cover ourselves with clothing, cut our hair or keep it long, keep sex confined to the bedroom, behind closed doors and not talk about it, or the feelings of attachment that come with it because it’s indecent while we cheer our young men on while they burn another group of people to ashes. “Homosexuality is unnatural, it’s a disease...so what if all animals have the twisted ones, why should we, we can reason” </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> <span style="font-size: x-large;">“We respect women....hence from now on we devote an entire coach of every train to women only, as further segregation will make it easier for male passengers to understand that women are just as capable as they are.” </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Please give your seat to women, children, senior citizens and to those in need”. Hey mr. guy without a leg, you are just as capable as a woman. Four year old kid, you're just as capable as a woman, old man who can’t stand up for long because he gets tired, you're just as capable as a woman my friend.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We keep dogs and cats as pets and criticize the ones who eat them for dinner in other parts of the world, whose culture we do not understand, while happily biting in to what used to be a calf or a cow, or a pig, or a goat or a bird of some sort. We criticize those who don’t eat other animals, and they criticize us who do. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We routinely send our children to single sex schools when mountains of research demonstrate a positive correlation between single sex school environments and unsuccessful relationships.“But tell me something, how does keeping a child segregated during his or her formative year’s right through physical, mental and sexual development have any impact on his or her personality or how they deal with each other?” But assumptions about fostering homosexuality is largely prevalent.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We subscribe to rituals, mostly religious that have outlived their purpose, we buy into the philosophy that all religions bring peace while conveniently ignoring the wars throughout history some which continue to take countless lives all because our parents couldn't be wrong. Our teachers couldn't be wrong. Our heroes couldn't be wrong. They couldn't be wrong about something as big and important as the meaning of life and what happens after we die, hey no way.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The ones that we elect to protect us rampantly and routinely fail us and continue to provide us with quality entertainment on the seven o clock news. They choose to spend a huge amount of time, energy and resources on getting into people’s houses and incarcerating them for smoking plants that grow naturally and that too without a warrant(it’s not necessary) while waiting to show reasonable cause before a judge to knock on a murderer/arsonist/rapist’s door to let him get out on bail and enjoy a beverage made from fermented grain which is a very natural process while he relieves himself in a ceramic pot within concrete walls within the same space within which he will eat and sleep, which is also natural..or is it? </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All of these incidents ladies and gentlemen(because ladies don’t need to be gentle, they always are obviously) reflect a larger picture that goes beyond rapes, murders, drugs, violence, abuse, discrimination and all of that stuff that’s been going on since history began. </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">It is the simple fact that a human being is an insignificant drop of water in a vast ocean of collective consciousness which is largely very irrational,emotional, selfish, scared, daft and doomed for extinction. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Unless of course, children are brought up to believe that they’re not special but just as good as anyone out there. Unless of course, the coming generations are encouraged to explore and constantly question every single action that they will be doing until they reach the final conclusion which is, that the only meaning that life has, is to appreciate the beauty that exists and do what makes them come alive, as long as it doesn't harm another being...and that there will always be suffering. Unless they’re taught that all humans are offensive, obnoxious and disappointing and whatever they say will at some point make their blood boil and that it’d be a waste of energy to ponder over that moment and they rather put it in to what they liked doing, we're fucked as a race ladies and gentlemen. Sorry to break it to you...not. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Because as I see it, unless that happens, it doesn't matter whether a white boy picks up a book and chooses not to shoot kids, teachers and students, because halfway across the world a brown boy who has nothing to lose but his childhood and of course his entire life will pick up a similar book and justify bombing that white boy’s home while drawing hatred from another brown boy who lives across the valley and believes that chanting a few ancient lines and smearing red dust on his newly wedded wife’s forehead gives him ownership rights over her entire body and soul... while his ‘yellow’ godless neighbor eyes her enviously...and who knows one day will be pissed off enough to rape her to send a message to him.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">And then, well we're at war again.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>“Why? Because fuck you that’s why.” </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="line-height: 25px;">"The future will soon be a thing of the past.</span> <span style="line-height: 25px;">The planet is fine. The people are fucked."</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 25px;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>- George Carlin.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>"<span style="line-height: 14.545454025268555px;"> We train young men to drop fire on people, but their commanders won't allow them to write "</span><span style="line-height: 14.545454025268555px;">fuck</span><span style="line-height: 14.545454025268555px;">" on their airplanes because it's<b> </b></span><span style="line-height: 14.545454025268555px;">obscene.</span><span style="line-height: 14.545454025268555px;"> "</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="color: white;">-Colonel Walter E Kurtz (Apocalypse now 1979)</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">"I was motivated to write about violence because I believe it's not unusual. I see it as just a part of life, and I think we get in trouble when we separate people who've experienced it from those who haven't. Though it's a horrible experience, it's not as if violence hasn't affected many of us." </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">“You save yourself or you remain unsaved.” </span></i></span><br />
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">― </span>Alice Sebold</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>"Few know that soldiers impaled babies on bayonets</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>and tossed them still alive into pots of boiling </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: white;"><i>water.They gang-raped women from the ages of twelve </i></span><i><span style="color: white;">to eighty and then killed them.I beheaded </span><span style="color: white;">people, starved them to death, burned them,and </span></i><i style="color: white;">buried them alive, over two hundred in all. It is </i><i style="color: white;">terrible that I could turn into an animal and do </i></span><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>these things. There are really no words to explain </i></span><i style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">what I was doing. I truly became a devil. " </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i>-Hakudo Nagatomi, quoted in Iris Chang's "The Rape of Nanking: The Forgotten Holocaust of World War II "</i></span></span></div>
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UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-7480327785228771092012-12-17T02:00:00.002+05:302012-12-19T21:56:32.232+05:30You're the best.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: white; font-size: large;">Yes, it's been quite a while. I must apologize. I overestimated my capabilities and underestimated the complexities of the web world...it all makes for a very good story indeed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">But it has all come together.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">One) There are changes, some minor, some major. The background has now been changed to a stock one. The old RSJ, coffee mug stains, random architectural drawings and scribbles on my desk have now been replaced with a camera and photographs...feedback is welcome, any ideas even more!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Two) There are fewer pages. There is a new homepage. I suggest you check it out. Yes, it was inevitable.Nothing is perfect, but my baby has finally taken to the air!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Three) Writing shall continue like before. However looking at the recent stuff I have with me, I can't help but wonder, if a person can change a lot over a few years. The way I write is not what it used to be. All for the better I guess. Lots of social issues. Lots of thoughts on the way this world works, some insinuating, some pleasing, lots of rambling.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Four) More music! I shall be writing more music and band reviews.Mostly from Pune and New Delhi. Some from Mumbai and Chennai...you get the drift.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Five) There's lots of catching up. Lots of storytelling. Less of lovesick beer goggled stumbling over the keyboard....I say less because I know myself well enough to not deny them completely...sigh.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Six) Lots of talk about pro audio, simple tips and tricks to make your listening experience better. Some of my own limited experience and some from experts who I will get in touch with.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Seven) NEW TWITTER HANDLE @sourcanvas and my very own @ujjwalraajsen. Follow for quick updates.Don't ask why I didn't do it earlier because I can't find an answer either.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Eight) I haven't been able to write poetry. I can't bring myself to do it at all actually. Maybe if my hair grew longer....</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Nine ) And of course, whatever hits me whenever it hits me.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Ten) Imaginate.Create.Experience. That's what I live for. I think sounds, I think colour, I think feeling..and I will try to share as much as I possibly can!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Do check out <a href="http://www.sourcanvas.in/">www.sourcanvas.in</a> ..............and well it's been quite a ride.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Lots of more memories to be made. Lots of new blogger friends to make. Here we go 2013!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Thank You and Lots of love :)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;">Ujjwal Raaj Sen</span></span></div>
UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-2547140921790161902012-09-07T00:45:00.002+05:302012-12-13T10:09:41.000+05:30"Hamsini"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And to think she chose to shave her three months later.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ballsy.Very. :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm going that way soon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Freedom sigh.</span></div>
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UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-87582352629394345192012-09-02T19:51:00.002+05:302012-09-02T20:20:56.064+05:30"Battle Studies"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Gunshot judgement,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Fired from the heart,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Broken faces, lost spaces,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Firing reality charged darts,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bull’s eye.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Intricate mechanisms of thought</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">provoking action</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Life in motion,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Experience, time and perception,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hair turns grey,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">An experience, reflection of.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You came you went; </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You come again and</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Leave once more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My heart is an installation,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A work of tortured art</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That you critique constructively and it yet shatters.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A seed that grows into a tree</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bearing fruits of affection</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">That consume themselves, fall,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And rot upon the surface of this</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Parched land of consciousness and morality.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A seed you nurture.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I look forward to seeing the morning sun</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Your face beaming</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">While you make it snow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Every day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I cannot care and not fight</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I can fight and not care.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There will be a day, when,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It’ll all be over.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The sun must shine, because it was meant to.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The fire must burn, until the rains arrive,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Drops pouring like they were born to."</span><br />
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UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-61049626199254627512012-08-31T12:56:00.000+05:302012-12-17T01:42:23.849+05:30"11"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So a while back this <a href="http://ilikebigbuttsandicannotlie.blogspot.in/">girl</a> gave me an award and me being me I was a little too caught up to follow her rules.</span><br />
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Now however I have the time.</span><br />
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So firstly, 11 things about myself-</span><br />
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1. I like cars more than motorcycles.</span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />2. I have a temper that is silly, unreasonable and which scares me and should scare you.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">3. I believe good photographs come from appreciating the subject. Whoever or whatever they might be and appreciation is instinctive and very primal. If you like what you see, you will keep what you click.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">4. I like spaces. All kinds of spaces. The tangible and the intangible. The walls, ceilings and rooms. The blank sheets of paper, the studios, virtual or real. I love them for the infinite potential that they have.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">5. I believe most of my photographs are bullshit. Most of my compositions suck.Music not even close to mediocre. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">6. Even though I believe number 5. I still believe I can sell them.....and sell them myself.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">7.I am a very frustrated person. I can never get enough. Be it food for thought, for the body or for the soul. And this makes it keep at it until I crash. Which just makes it worse. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">8. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in religion. I don't believe in rituals. I believe it's important to believe in oneself. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">9. No matter how much I love rum. No matter how many times it has saved me in the bitter winters. Given the choice however, I'd be more likely to pick the whiskey. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">10. I'm scared to approach other people most of the times and consider myself a very shy person.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">11. I really want you to like the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/sourcanvasofficial">Facebook page</a> and subscribe for updates. Shortcut is on the upper right side of this page.</span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And now the 11 questions she has asked me with my answers to them-</span></i></b></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 21px;"><br /><br />1. The CRAZIEST thing that you've ever done?<br /><br />A group of friends and me went to shoot a travelogue. It rained heavily and was one of the toughest trekking routes in the state, I was told later. Everything went wrong.It rained continuously and the temperature fell below ten. We put the candles to our feet so that the dripping wax would check the numbness.We starved, shivered, prayed, and the next day on the way down, I had my first near death experience. So did a friend of mine. It nearly got us thrown out of university and put considerable strain on our relationships with each other. When I look back, that was indeed crazy, but I have no regrets. It changed things.It changed the way we looked at the world.</span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 21px;">2. If happiness was the national currency, what kind of work would make you rich?</span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">Clicking photographs, making music, playing with </span><span style="line-height: 21px;">colors, exploring my own consciousness and then writing about them...and of course making money work for me.</span><span style="line-height: 21px;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 21px;">3. If the average human lifespan was 40 years, how would you live your life differently? </span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">I'd do it much earlier. Everything. </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">4. If you could break one law, which one would that be? </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">I've already broken a few, but if I could get away with it, I'd pick murder.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">5. What do you do, that you think, makes you different from everyone else? </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">The fact that I don't think I'm different from everyone else. I believe I'm just as good as anyone out there.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">6. Do you push the elevator button more than once? Do you really think it makes the elevator move faster?<br /><br />I do sometimes. It's not about the elevator moving faster, it's about me feeling better.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">7. If you were standing on stage, unaware that hundreds of people were watching you, what would you have done?</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">If I had an instrument I'd play, if I had someone else I'd have a conversation, if I was alone, I'd act and become characters I've always wanted to be.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">8. Who do you think is the sexiest person alive? </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">Rana Dasgupta the writer. If you've read his work, you'll know what I am talking about. </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">9. Who would you rather date. A worried genius or a joyous simpleton?</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">A joyous simpleton. I don't like worried people. They make me feel worse about myself. Simple people are happier people. And I wish i was much simpler than I am.</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">10. If you were stranded on an island, which three things would you like to have in your bag?</span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 21px;">A satellite phone...in case it got messy.A book on feeding yourself in the wild, for obvious reasons, and a violin to keep my busy and happy. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 21px;">11. What is your first impression of<a href="http://ilikebigbuttsandicannotlie.blogspot.in/"> me/this blog?</a><br /><br />Well Ruhani, it seems to mirror you and going by the name I'm sure you like yourself just as much.<br /><br /><br />I'll post the eleven blogs soon.</span></div>
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UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-70984622887295997992012-08-29T00:52:00.002+05:302012-09-07T02:29:53.516+05:30Kanna.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Snapped this at an event I was assigned. Saw Hip Hop in a different light.Pun Intended.</div>
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DJ Kanna at his best.</div>
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Go ahead, Click on it.</div>
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UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-34098663373252359292012-08-21T04:45:00.001+05:302012-08-21T04:46:55.847+05:30CosmoJelly<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Starting today, One new photograph every week.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mEBTMG7KTCw/UDLDy1oiAYI/AAAAAAAAAPE/I24Mrr1bCfU/s1600/Cosmojelly2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="458" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mEBTMG7KTCw/UDLDy1oiAYI/AAAAAAAAAPE/I24Mrr1bCfU/s640/Cosmojelly2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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This is a shot of my brother's footsteps on a special floor that uses oils in between the two plates of glass with a light from under. Fun and makes for interesting compositions. Click on the photograph for better viewing.<br />
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Comments and critique welcome.</div>
UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-92027726102541280842012-08-19T03:14:00.001+05:302012-08-19T03:14:23.024+05:30An open letter to the 'me' from last year.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear me last year,<br /><br /><br />Kill yourself while you still have the time. Seriously.<br /><br /><br />With love,<br /><br />You next year.<br /><br /><br />PS: Quit smoking while you can. Take it from me. No really.</div>
UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-45696936975266283202012-06-29T15:36:00.001+05:302012-06-29T16:31:53.081+05:30So you got Delhi University? I don't think so.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I never did well in school. No. I did brilliantly. Yes I admit I never bothered much about my report card at the end, and that did pull my grades down. Instead I immersed myself in reading a few good books that caught my attention, exploring different genres in music, looking up different kinds of art, fiddling around with cameras and processing(Not editing mind you, there is no such thing). I wondered why all the electronic music stalwarts were coming from the Netherlands. I wondered why metal was so popular in Norway and in a few strange instances even in rural India… I wondered why being an entrepreneur did not command the same respect as a being an officer in the administrative services in this great country. I ate, drank, slept and ‘wasted time’. I watched movies in foreign languages with titles I cannot pronounce. I played guitar, noted down song ideas and wrote short stories. I read ebooks which were not a part of my course majority of that time. I did not get along with most of my peers, for a few shared similar interests, but unlike me were not willing to give it as much time.</div>
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My family was never impressed, and heated exchanges would inevitably surface. This would always end in the same manner- That all of this was going to take me nowhere. The school band, the blog, the research on subject s that I will never be able to study. In short like majority of the Indian families, mine however being more liberal of the lot I must add, I was a liability where social grace was concerned. <b>Certificates and trophies in sports, debates, theatre, or music were pretty much worthless</b>. And quite frankly I didn’t care at first, but towards the later end of school, I was in a situation where as much as I refused to believe people who wanted to work upon their own ideas could never make a living. And I believed it. That was one hell of a week.<br />
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My family has produced more than it's fair share of professors and researchers, back home and abroad who love research, who love teaching, who love studying, who live to find, seek and share knowledge. </div>
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Don’t get me wrong,<span style="font-size: large;"> I love studying </span>too. I love studying different mixing techniques, acoustics, music, art, dance, different cultures, policy and ideology, substance abuse, what makes people and society tick? Things that this country unfortunately does not allow you study together. So in retrospect, I never really had any ‘incentive’ as such to do well where marks were concerned. So I did just that, worked for just enough so I could get out of the claustrophobic environment I was in. And in subjects like Business that supposedly required heavy duty cramming, I did pretty well. I was ahead of the class so as to say. English was nice as long as my teachers were grading the papers, <b>unfortunately I think my handwriting must have been highly illegible for the examiners under CBSE to understand what I was trying to say.</b><span style="font-size: large;"> In fact it must have been terrible compared to the students who found it hard to frame a single grammatically correct sentence to be able to get their point across. </span></div>
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In the middle of twelfth grade I realized that I had already lost enough time to prepare well enough to get into a public university to pursue a regular course, and even if I did, apart from four subjects that interested me (and are still deemed to have no value where as a ‘career’ is concerned) there wasn't much on offer.</div>
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Today, a year later when I’ve managed to find my way into the best place to be for media studies, people ask me if I’m happy. Well, the reality is I’m not. Well not completely, I’m not happy with my pictures, I’m not happy with the compositions,with the stories, I’m not happy with not getting results I want. I am also feeling the lack of any solid research work. But yes there’s no other place I’d rather be.</div>
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But what saddens me is that<span style="font-size: large;"> I see a whole new bunch of kids coming out of school, with exceptional grades, who’ve put very little thought into what they want to do.</span> And they have barely a week or so to decide.</div>
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What happens when a person who likes the idea of Sociology, takes it up, and realizes it’s not his cup of tea? What happens when a person who liked English in school takes it up only to find out how crucial and critical, critical essays can be? <span style="font-size: x-large;">What happens when a person has to compromise on a decent enough college that’s running on little more than brand value, passed on from generation to generation over a course of his or her choice?</span><br />
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<b> I’m seeing people who just want to clear the cut offs for a subject they never wanted to take up just to prove a point.</b> I’m seeing bright people with talents that can be turned into skill sets to be reckoned with taking up subjects that will give them very little time, or allow them to mix with the right people to let that happen.<span style="font-size: large;"> I’m seeing an entire generation of underachievers who have never been allowed to make decisions for themselves or to think about what’s really worth getting up in the morning and working 60 hours a week for.</span><br />
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So naturally<span style="font-size: large;"> I am very pissed off with Mr Vineet Joshi(Chairman CBSE)</span>, who recently said <span style="font-size: large;">CBSE marks were not meant for college admissions</span>. What is that even supposed to mean? His reckoning is, that no one should get a 100% in English, but at the same time he cannot tell examiners to not give marks. Is it just me or if CBSE was a private institution he’d be sacked for even making such a statement? He doesn’t mention what he’s doing about it. Just like every other bureaucrat, he’s probably assured of his promotion after a fixed period of time and he doesn’t have to look at how to spend the money that’s allotted to him, but to look at spending it all.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One, our SSCs, HSCs or whatever don’t let young bright people pursue any real study which in my opinion lies in research than textbook learning. Two, the schools continue to segregate subjects on the basis of ‘streams’ even though most <b>boards allow any combination of six subjects</b>. Yes you read that right.</span> <span style="font-size: x-large;">Three, a society where people concede to the fear of failure more than the thrill of winning or the rush of creative satisfaction keeps the next generation from fending for themselves and building any self confidence.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> Four our universities continue in their archaic fashion for the purpose of producing </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">good bureaucrats and there is virtually no research at the undergraduate level.</span> Same shit, different day.</div>
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<b> Add to that a mix of caste based reservations and you’ve got a perfect recipe for this country’s future to go to hell.</b> <br />
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What do you do in times of turmoil? Reach out for help? Cope? But where do they go?<br />
Is it very surprising then, that with such an uncertain future, with very little space to think for themselves, and look within, discover their interests and pursue them, and be forced into believing that coveted honours courses in public universities are the only way to go, they may resort to ‘activities’ not accepted by society as a whole?<br />
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Is it really surprising then, that binge drinking under the age of 18, sometimes as early as the age of 12 is on the rise? Is it surprising that experimentation with marijuana starts as early as at the age of 12 today? Is it really surprising that more than 52% of help seekers from Snehi, an organisation that pioneered the concept of telephonic and online counselling, are below the age of 25, and maximum number of calls are during examination results/admission season?</div>
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So why is it surprising when the best colleges in the best university in this country have such a high dropout rate, when after 13 years of being brainwashed into not settling for less, one is in fact forced to do the very same? More so if one comes on a reservation and/or does not have a solid foundation to take on the subject and see it through. </div>
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So while I’m glad that a few students who worked hard, got the course they wanted in the college they wanted, <b>I feel very sorry for the few who’ve cleared cut offs but have no idea about what they wish to pursue....and of course the majority who don’t really have a choice.</b><br />
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So for them, while some may have gotten into Delhi University, they didn’t really ‘get’ Delhi University if you know what I mean. Course over college? Any fucking day. When campus placements and getting a ‘job’ to help get by seemingly become more of a motivator than creating a niche for yourself, you’re in trouble. By the time this new lot graduates, chances are that India will be facing its worse economic crisis in history, tremors of which are being felt already. Until the government starts looking at people’s resumes before putting them in charge of making public policy, we’re all in big trouble indeed.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">PS: I wanted to title this with "University of Calcutta" for kicks in case some Trinamool leader wanted to shut my blog down. And it'd be really amusing for a supporter of free markets to be labeled a commie. But nevertheless. </span></div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-5648386951075101102012-06-15T03:26:00.002+05:302012-06-15T03:26:25.858+05:30Waoh<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was having a late night phone chat with a close friend I've known for close to 9 years...and I realized how time just flew by.<br /><br />It's the first time I've been hit with a realization like that. One moment you're asking about <i>his</i> little sister and how far she's come along from playing with tea sets and what she's doing and the other moment you're being informed that she's in the 11th grade with a boyfriend.<br /><br />It's an odd feeling I must admit.I'm still looking to get even with people and incidents that happened more than 7 years ago. Is that normal? Because until before I had moment of being enveloped by white light, it seemed just yesterday....<br /><br />A rude shock if there ever was one...the realization that you've lost touch with so many people, most of whom seem to be doing very well for themselves, while you've not made much progress.<br /><br />I feel like Kevin Spacey from American Beauty minus the obsession with the daughter's friend and the psycho wife....which makes me wonder how horrible my mid life crisis will be.<br /><br /><br />Or is it just that I've been through a lot lately that's bringing this on? (More on that later)<br />
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I need to let go. First time I'm admitting it to myself.<br />
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but yes.....</div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-20805983277667417092012-05-15T03:46:00.001+05:302012-05-15T03:54:08.966+05:30Confinement?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Aaah Photoshop, Where would we be without you?<br />
<br />
I'm slowly trying to convert from Real paint and crayons to digital platforms, It's like kindergarten and cursive writing all over again. But I'm catching up real quick. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eI9jzzcI5Pc/T7GDnN1k4AI/AAAAAAAAAOE/Jxm3GupSKNQ/s1600/confinement.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eI9jzzcI5Pc/T7GDnN1k4AI/AAAAAAAAAOE/Jxm3GupSKNQ/s640/confinement.jpg" width="452" /></a><br />
<br />
Click on the image for a better look. This one hurts the eyes. </div>
<br /></div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-41302656516321119822012-04-24T03:48:00.000+05:302012-04-24T03:48:30.799+05:30Anger management?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: -webkit-auto;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; line-height: 20px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"> <a href="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://www.artmajeur.com/0/images/images/mialet_1768833_violence500.jpg&sa=X&ei=zc2VT-3qMMnUrQfppPiYBQ&ved=0CAoQ8wc4LA&usg=AFQjCNGL80b39JCzicCJaDhu52RxovheKA" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://www.artmajeur.com/0/images/images/mialet_1768833_violence500.jpg&sa=X&ei=zc2VT-3qMMnUrQfppPiYBQ&ved=0CAoQ8wc4LA&usg=AFQjCNGL80b39JCzicCJaDhu52RxovheKA" width="224" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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<div style="line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I love you my rage. I love how you make me feel. I love the way you intoxicate me and turn me into something that I fear. Something that people fear. I love the way you help me get through and get over situations in an instant. I love how you tire me out. I love the sour taste of adrenaline that flirts with my tongue when you posses me. I love everything about you. And I know you love me too. I love how when we’re together, I can do things and think of doing things that were impossible otherwise. I love how you seep in unexpectedly and make me smile. I love the lack of emotion or feeling within me, when you take over. I love the clarity of thought that you bring. When you’re there, I remember every detail in vivid slow motion. I want you to stop teasing me, my rage. As much as I love you, this cannot continue. We’re meant to be together. You know it too. Why do you wish to fight it? Let it go. Let us be one. Let us conquer the planet. Let us live together. Let us perish in each other’s arms, for we both know so well, that it is better to be feared, than to be loved. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Yes I must admit, you are exhausting, you do come at a great personal cost. But it’s worth it. You’re the only true friend, the only true lover. </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">You've</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> always been there for me. From the time when I was three years old and the other kid in the sandbox hit me with his spade, to the time when those spineless idiots ganged up on me and put a knife to my throat, to prevent me from being with the girl I wanted to be with. You were there when I was let go in the name of an economic crisis. You helped me move forward. You even made sure I didn’t regret something like killing that bastard. You were there when I </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">didn't</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> get what I wanted and helped me enjoy whatever I had. </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">I've</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> always banked on you and you’ve never failed. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">It’s time my love that you take over completely and let me become the true me. Let me be myself , be the stronger me. No person, place or substance can match you or compete with you. I detest the people that keep us from being together. I detest the feelings that they bring. They’re all that is material. They shall all perish. But we’re one through time and space. Come rage; let us consummate our relationship that has lasted for so long. Take over me and take me to places beyond my imagination. Awaken me. I need that rush. Give me that hit. Just one last hit…..because you are the only thing that is real. This world and its entire people, all the relationships and all the transactions, they’re all nothing but one great illusion. There is no right and wrong. You’ve taught me that so well. There is only power and those who aspire for it. Come. Make me all powerful, you the omnipotent and omnipresent. For when you are with me, I am the juggernaut; an unstoppable force. Even God fears me. I’ll ask you nicely if you wish. Or I shall grab you by your hair and drag you to the altar. I cannot wait any longer. Come. I summon you. Let us make the heavens thunder and the earth shake with fear. Come. I’m asking for the last time…..</span></div><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i><i><span style="font-family: Arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">"Holding on to anger is like grasping hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else"</span></i></i></div><i></i><br />
<div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i><i><i><span style="font-family: Arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"> "The mind is everything. What you think, you become"</span></i></i><i></i></i><br />
<div style="display: inline !important;"><i><i><i><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: -webkit-auto;"></span></i></i></i><br />
<div style="display: inline !important; text-align: justify;"><i><i><i><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><i style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> <br />
- Buddha</span></i></span></i></i></i></div></div><i><i><div style="display: inline !important;"><i></i><br />
<div style="display: inline !important;"><i><i><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: -webkit-auto;"></span></i></i><br />
<div style="display: inline !important; text-align: justify;"><i><i><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><i style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i></span></i></i></div></div></div></i></i></div></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;"><i><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: -webkit-auto;"></span></i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><i style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></i></span></i></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i>Recent studies suggest an increase in the number of people seeking advice on anger management, which is not surprising considering today's lifestyle. Studies also suggest chronic rage being addictive and having effects similar to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Methamphetamine">Methamphetamine</a>. Having had serious anger management issues myself, I fully understand what it is like. <b><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">This post should not be taken personally, or be read in context of any person dead or alive, place or incident.</span> </b>Anger and resulting episodes of rage are perhaps the strongest defense mechanisms to protect the personality from an intolerable attack of anxiety when the one's ego is under siege. </i></div><i></i><br />
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</b></span></span></i></div></div></div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-17505034220218318202012-03-18T00:49:00.001+05:302012-03-19T00:57:40.642+05:30Baggage.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I admit it. You've been through hell. More than once. Hell in it's entirety would be an understatement for what you've had to face and what you've had to do to deal with it. It hurts me. It seems almost unbelievable. Too fucked up to be true.But I want to tell you that you're much stronger than you think. You're much stronger than the entire set of people you come to class with raised to the power of ten.<br />
<br />
<div>I have little sympathy for what you've been through, because that is the last thing you would want. No. I have all the love and respect one could hope for. I know you sometimes find it hard to keep the faith and do something in life, but know this, you can.</div><div><br />
I do not appreciate your lack of concern for your health, and your well being. I do not appreciate your lack of self esteem.<br />
<br />
I cannot change your outlook to the world, for you have seen the worst of it. But all I wish is for you to find that person, that place ,that thing that keeps you happy and makes you see that in the end, life is a gift worth living.</div><div>You have a beautiful voice that deserves to be heard, You have a brilliant mind that needs it's fodder. </div><div><br />
</div><div>You may think you're good at hiding your thoughts from the world. You maybe right. But I can see through you....and I admit, I may not be able to process every detail or every story and emotion to it's optimum accuracy. But a primal sense and realization of what's positive and what's negative is a trait that I've been born with.<br />
<br />
You build your walls, you believe you live in this enclosed space, you like to believe you're numb. But you're far from it. And you know it. <br />
<br />
Life is not a chore anymore love. Not with me around. And you of all people know how seriously I take my work, and how I don't stop until I see uniformity in thought, action and outcome.<br />
<br />
There will be times when you will hate me, loathe me, wish you had never met me and I shall return the feelings with all the energy I have, I guarantee it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div><br />
</div><div>.....but..... that love, is the beauty of the way this universe works........mysteriously....and magically. <br />
<br />
Mucho Amore. </div><div></div><div><br />
</div></div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-90212164753166421332012-02-19T04:10:00.000+05:302012-02-19T04:10:37.736+05:30My Kind of Woman- Part One.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I've been getting a lot of of questions about the usual character sketches I paint of women I meet or write about and what kind of a girl is my 'type' to say the least. Needless to say all of them have been from other women. Smile if you must, but the following few posts in this series should quell the rumors around along with answering a few if not all the questions regarding my preferences. I must admit I also found this idea borderline ridiculous and the prospect of ex girlfriends and their families reading it up even funnier.<br />
<br />
Please bear in mind that all of this is absolutely non serious, fictitious(who am I kidding....) and not to be taken seriously. I am also aware that some people might read this as a piece with very sexist undertones. To these people I ask to write about their ideal guy, Because I can't sadly.<br />
<br />
My ideal woman-<br />
<br />
Should be inclined towards and appreciate the arts, performing or otherwise.<br />
<br />
Should love to read, read all kinds of books, anything that she finds interesting.Should be able to read between the lines, see through to the author, and then tell me about it.<br />
<br />
Should know how to fool around with one musical instrument, or dance, paint, act or be productive with scrap and love doing it.<br />
<br />
Should be open to all genres of music. The only genre of music she does not appreciate should be the type she has not heard yet.<br />
<br />
Should have mood swings. But not all the time.<br />
<br />
Should have the perfect balance of slutty, reserved and street smart.<br />
<br />
Should dress to the occasion. A tad bit smarter than the rest to stand out.<br />
<br />
Should be able to make good conversation, play with words and tear people to shreds with them when necessary. Even me.<br />
<br />
Should love to cook, experiment in the kitchen(smirks) and love to eat.<br />
<br />
Should appreciate colour. Should love to play with colour. Should appreciate the gift of sight.<br />
<br />
Should be culturally inclined. Should look forward to festivities especially if an Indian.<br />
<br />
Should take pride in her upbringing, of her roots and her family.<br />
<br />
Should not be dependent or a slave to any substance, chemical, product or person.<br />
<br />
Should be open to the idea of experimenting with alternative states of consciousness.<br />
<br />
Should love animals.<br />
<br />
Should love animals more than humans.<br />
<br />
Should respect people's privacy.<br />
<br />
Should not indulge in unnecessary verbal exchanges that demean or assassinate a person's character out of<br />
spite publicly.<br />
<br />
Should love to travel.<br />
<br />
Should be open to Friday morning alarms at 4 AM with me standing over and telling her we're off to XXXX location for the weekend.<br />
<br />
Even better, should be standing over my bed at 3:30 AM on random Friday mornings and telling me we're off to XXXX location for the weekend.<br />
<br />
Should love cinema. The art of cinema and appreciate the nuances and technicalities involved.<br />
<br />
Should be someone who I learn something new from everyday.<br />
<br />
Should grab the newspaper before me every morning.<br />
<br />
Should have an intelligent sense of humour.<br />
<br />
Should have a healthy dose of cynicism. Roses on valentine's day should return sarcasm followed by genuine concern for where we were headed for dinner that night and appreciation for whispering in the ear when not required.<br />
<br />
Should write full length sentences while making use of the short messaging services available on cellular phone networks.<br />
<br />
Should love to work hard for a cause, a belief she finds meaning in and pursue it with all her strength. Should love to party harder, but not in excess.<br />
<br />
Should have a health dose of materialism. Should understand that diamonds may not necessarily be my best friend and that Yellow Sapphires, Topaz and even Turquoise can be just as if not more sexy.<br />
<br />
Should be entrepreneurial and have the urge to start something on her her own.<br />
<br />
Should have a spirit of adventure. I will not say anything more.<br />
<br />
Should be comfortable in her own skin.<br />
<br />
Need not be the most attractive person on the planet. Just know how to present herself.<br />
<br />
Be a good friend, a nag, and pure evil when necessary in her dealings with me.<br />
<br />
Should get me, my thoughts and accept me for what I am, inclusive of all my weaknesses, flaws and the skeletons in my cupboard.<br />
<br />
OR<br />
<br />
<br />
I could just be in love with her.<br />
<br />
<br />
So universe, are you listening?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-1980478734690507522012-01-27T04:45:00.000+05:302012-01-27T04:45:14.156+05:30MH-12-XX-3101<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So.<br />
<br />
I'm on an assignment.I'm with my camera. My dearly beloved camera.The bands on stage are having fun.Even though it's a dry day. Naturally the space is not packed. But as the music plays, the people get going. Even though it's a dry day.<br />
<br />
I'm on a shooting spree. Different angles, different exposures, different positions, different reactions. I have to try really hard. It's a dry day.The frames aren't coming to me.I can't see the colors as clear. The music is fluctuating.<br />
<br />
But then I see you.<br />
<br />
You're with your friends.Friends I notice much later. Your glasses remind me of someone I used to know well. A deep shade of brown.Rectangular and sleek.<br />
<br />
Did I mention I love your dress? It's different from everyone else here today. It's dignified for starters. You're probably the only female within these boundaries that does not look like a wannabe whore, for the lack of a better word.<br />
<br />
I can't keep looking at you, as much as I want to. I really love my work. Temporarily it keeps my thoughts from drifting towards your table. As the second band finishes it's set, I find myself compelled to look at you. But it's not that easy.<br />
<br />
See, I don't want you to see me looking at you. It's a dry day. From the way you lean on your table and sip your drink.through a straw and quietly smile to yourself when the crowd goes crazy over a song being played on stage, I know you've got your shit together. Until you let your hair, which is tied in a bun, down and smile some more, I'll just get back to shooting the bass player who's having fun on stage. Besides, your friends just ordered another round of drinks. They light hard cigarettes. You're going to be here for a while. Your pretty friends is looking at me for the third time now. I don't look twice. I want <i>you </i>to look. I want <i>you</i> to notice.<br />
<br />
I'm done with photos and need a break. I wonder if this is the right time. But no, I still haven't finished.I'd like a few reactions from the people. I click. I click and I click some more.<br />
<br />
And then I come to you. I have you in frame. I have you in full focus. But I can't press the button. Something holds me back. Your friends haven't noticed me pointing the camera in your direction yet. Something doesn't seem right. Fuck. What is wrong with me?<br />
<br />
I chose to shoot the guys on the right staring at the stage instead and flee. I decide I need a drink. But it's a dry day. Just my luck.<br />
<br />
The gig is done and over and I'm eating dinner. And as I see you and your friends in the distance, deliberating on staying back for dinner or going somewhere else, I sense time ticking away faster than it should be. I look at my plate and I look back and you've disappeared all of a sudden. The piece of meat on my plate bears the burnt of it. After I've stabbed it with my fork and cut it apart with my knife and bring it to my mouth, I hear your voice. It calms me down funnily enough. Even the parts about the lighting on drummer on stage being absolute crap.<br />
<br />
I turn around and see your friends and(more importantly) you chatting up with the long haired lead guitarist of band number 2....or was it 3.....I'm compelled to reach out for a cigarette. It's not your interaction with him really, it's more about an opportunity lost. Or maybe it's a little jealousy. Maybe both. I don't bother about it any longer. I continue with my meal.<br />
<br />
As I scrutinize the texture of the gravy my piece of chicken swims in, I wonder what you're like as person. From whatever I've read tonight, you seem to be the kind of person that reads a book over a cup of hot cocoa before falling asleep at night. You seem to be the kind that would happily pick a two wheeler over a four, just because it seemed more fun. You like dogs yes you do.More than you like people, but cats aren't that bad either.You don't have tonnes of friends, but a few very close ones.You don't like partying too hard and too frequently. But you do no know how to have tonnes of fun. And somethings tells me you're fairly new to the city. Something tells me you like your coffee with a little chocolate, as long as it retains it's bitterness. As long as it's not ridiculously sweet. But alas, dinner is over. And dessert is not on the house.Unfortunate it isn't it? I guess one can't have everything in life.<br />
<br />
All this while I failed to notice the resident dj has really picked up the pace. I realize the current track charted on Beatport last month. I can't remember the name. And I don't have the heart to walk all the way and ask him. I decide there's nothing left for me to do and I make my way to the exit. My head feels heavy and my senses blurry. Even though it is a dry day.<br />
<br />
I walk out and breathe the cold fresh air, and stand with the crew next to the main road with people driving like there was no tomorrow. I wonder if I'll see you again. I don't think I will. You don't seem to be much of an electronic music enthusiast. Which means you'll stay far away from here over the next few days. Old school dubstep is brilliant,so is trance and house, it is trust me. Robo girinding noises they play today aren't.<br />
I'll show you. Promise.There's a different kind for everyone.<br />
<br />
As I ponder over getting back home, I hear three voices behind me. Through all the noise that the un-serviced cars and two wheelers make. It's you. And your friends.Your pretty friend tugs at your hand as she realizes it's me. She smiles as she looks down at her feet and continues walking. The other one smirks. So do you.<br />
<br />
As you cross the street humming a not so popular song I realize what I've done and what an idiot I've been. I see your friend ride her two wheeler down the road. I see you follow. Your friend is riding pillion. Well at least I got something right.<br />
<br />
I couldn't catch your name. I don't know who you are or if I'll see you again. I wonder if it would be any different tonight had we been drinking. Perhaps, perhaps not.<br />
<br />
But in a city with more than half the traffic volume being two wheelers, when I see the registration number 'MH-12-XX-3101' I'll know you're nearby. And if I find you, I assure you that I won't hesitate to ask you what your favorite book is. <br />
<br />
Even if it is a dry day.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">DISCLAIMER: This piece of writing is purely fictional. Any resemblance to any person, place, event, vehicle, is purely co-incidental.</span><br />
<br />
</div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-87843085460395524832012-01-25T02:45:00.000+05:302012-01-25T02:45:31.805+05:30Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuz<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I was in Mumbai recently. Met lots of new people. There was this one gentleman who seemed to be a nice person, into sound, music and crazy creative, one could tell.<br />
<br />
I chat with him for a few minutes. He gives me his card which reads his name, and then - 'soundsmith' and tells me to keep in touch.<br />
<br />
I think it's so fucking cool.........you know, something I'd like to call myself one day.....forging sounds for consumption or identities.<br />
<br />
So just for the heck I run a google search on him. Turns out, he was on coke studio, plays in BlueFrog every now and then, and has been heading creatives in a few of the largest ad agencies around.<br />
<br />
Gaah.<br />
<br />
I think I'll send him an email sometime soon asking how things are going with his new project.<br />
<br />
I feel like a fucking millionaire.<br />
<br />
*Touchwood*</div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-65938662976071159332012-01-01T02:55:00.001+05:302012-01-01T12:00:32.159+05:30The Year That Was.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I write this after coming back from one of the popular clubs here in Bangkok. And somehow, I feel compelled to write a little. So many questions, so many answers, so many questions that remain unanswered. It's funny how people change, or maybe I'm the one lacking mutability.<br />
<br />
So this was the year I got out of school with pathetic scores. Sat for Law,Architecture, Media and Business entrances. Nailed each one of them. I enjoyed giving them. And yes it is possible for a person to have diverse interests. I believe I'd be just as good at any one of them as I am with my subject today. Got acceptance letters to every place I'd wanted to, besides one, because I was too lazy to upload my marks online.(Cough Cough *CBS# cough) I got into the best media school in the country, an offer I did not think twice about taking up. I got accepted into every university I applied to in the UK as well. Didn't bother taking it up, didn't feel like it anymore. Felt good though. You may think I'm boasting, well yes I am. And I couldn't care less. Judgement is not for you to be delivered.<br />
<br />
While a lot of people were busy partying, having the time of their lives the last two years,I stressed myself to a great extent, Took all the pictures I could with a cellphone camera. Made whatever tracks I could with a seriously under powered processor and rig. I spent countless nights awake, pondering over what my purpose in life is.<br />
<br />
I helped a few people and pointed them in the right direction, from my point of view, regarding their pathways. They're all doing very well for themselves now.<br />
<br />
I moved to a different city, Pune, a city that will call mine, for years to come. A city that I will perhaps defend unconditionally.........and this is based just on a little more than half a year's worth of experience.<br />
<br />
I met new people, people with similar interests, people on the same plane as me. People who didn't need a lot of explaining to do to. People who would finish my sentences. And after 13 years in an environment that is severely counterproductive, and deeply frustrating for creative people, it was a welcome change.<br />
<br />
I met someone who belongs to the same family tree, a distant cousin of sorts, a gift from God, a wish for an elder brother fulfilled. He's an audio junkie like I am. Icing on the cake? Understatement. We happen to share a similar philosophy on many things. He made adjusting to life in a new city that much easier.<br />
<br />
I also met another distant cousin for the first time. Wild mother fucker he is. Brilliant stuff. His age does not reflect in his lifestyle. Crazy.<br />
<br />
In the first 6 months of college, I met the "Big B" on the sets of the ever popular quiz show, with huge money. I shook hands with the producer, a legend in his own right. If that wasn't enough, I won a competition, sat with a man called Anuraag Kashyap, and his old friend Imtiaz Ali over wine beer, and cheese behind the exits of a cinema theater after watching my first movie in Mumbai, that too at a premiere. Sudhir Mishra, Vikramaditya Motwane and Prakash Jha threw us a couple of points. Kalki Koechlin is a very nice person. It was like a dream.<br />
<br />
I met a guy who I play guitar with. Had a couple of gigs. Another want satisfied. We played at one of India's biggest college festivals and won.<br />
<br />
I almost died. Experienced my life flashing before my eyes. It's changed me. All that stuff they say is actually true. It does happen. And honestly, I think everyone should experience it. It sets a lot of things straight.The entire two days tested friendships, tested our will to live. So what if we had to pour hot wax on our feet to keep the blood flowing, it toughened us, and left a lasting impression.<br />
<br />
A few people cut me off from their lives. People I've not done justice to, people who tried their very best, when I was on the wrong side of things to help me, but I refused. I realize that now, but life goes on. <br />
<br />
I've hurt a lot of people. And that's an understatement. In my eccentricities and pursuits, I've ignored a lot of people. That's come around to me, in a way that hits me the most. Through a person who makes this world seem too small for the both of us. And to make matters worse it's a woman.Shooting her would be a crime by law, a kind of social service from my kind of view. Same goes for a lot of other people. Hope somebody stops me years later, when I shall be in possession of arms and ammunition. Else I'd be in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong kind of temperament, and the wrong kind of substances running through my veins.<br />
<br />
There's a monster that lurks beneath my skin, the anti hero, He will take over one day. Perhaps the day I shall finally feel free.<br />
<br />
I had to part with a wonderful girl, who has brought much happiness into my life. A silent pillar of strength.I miss her, but life goes on.<br />
<br />
There were people who said I wouldn't make it, there were times when I felt like shit. I had almost given up. People who represented everything I believed to be just plain wrong were getting ahead. I caught up to them and beat them. I'm reminded of a time when a fellow basketball teammate from high school called me the Usain Bolt of Blue house, because I started last and finished before the rest. I was flattered. I dismissed it at the time, but come to think of it, he did have a point.<br />
<br />
Somethings never change, some things are best left unsaid.<br />
<br />
I still feel like I'm stuck on a divider with traffic on both sides moving at incredible speed. It's intimidating I must admit, the only difference being, I now let my cam's shutter stay open for 30 seconds and get brilliant streaks, and a nice photograph.<br />
<br />
I've discovered the workaholic in me. I love it. Stress comes from not the workload, but the lack of my ability to make real what I visualize. I'm working ten times harder, smoking more, drinking more. Not a very nice combination.<br />
<br />
I interned with one of Asia's leading think tanks. It was life changing again, to say the least.<br />
<br />
This year has been one hell of a roller coaster ride. I'm slightly nauseous. I hope for bigger and better things to come. <br />
<br />
I am tired of setting goals too high to remain disappointed. I am tired of feeling this lack of satisfaction from whatever I achieve, no matter how brilliant people say it might be. Dharma, Artha, Kama, and Moksha,I will strive to outrun and outperform, if I cannot beat my competition I will destroy it. And if you're thinking of coming in my way, I swear to god, I will destroy you. I refuse to blend in, to follow norms. I was made to stand out and by god I will.<br />
<br />
Having said that, there still remains a void within me, that nothing seems to fill. And that sucks, to say the least.<br />
<br />
There's a juggernaut in each of us. Mine is awakening. It will take time to fully wake up. But it shall. I look forward to that day. <br />
<br />
I pray for the well being and prosperity of the underdog, the voices that remain unheard, and the so called 'weak' who are trampled upon every day.The ones who are told it is 'not' possible.<br />
<br />
Bring it on 2012. Bring it fucking on.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-66263169483888265702011-12-20T00:26:00.003+05:302011-12-20T00:36:50.715+05:30HDR again.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Like I said, I'm hooked. High Dynamic Range. Tone mapped slightly. Working on stuff like this seems to have a mild therapeutic (read intoxicating) effect on my state of mind.<br />
<br />
Here's another one. I've had to compress the photograph to fit it here. The textures are obviously a little different and the image is overall much softer.<u><b>I suggest you click on the image to see what I mean.</b></u><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tXRRb6T-AZ0/Tu-IUoWAsWI/AAAAAAAAANI/T1x-81pui7g/s1600/Garuda1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tXRRb6T-AZ0/Tu-IUoWAsWI/AAAAAAAAANI/T1x-81pui7g/s640/Garuda1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<br />
The tilt was intentional. I felt the distorted angle added a little more.<br />
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Feedback Please.</div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-45756194909505689012011-12-14T05:14:00.003+05:302011-12-14T05:29:53.133+05:30Mr Miranda and all his friends.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://www.mid-day.com/imagedata/2011/feb/mariomiranda.jpg&sa=X&ei=nNDnTpeTJu-0iQekgK3jCA&ved=0CAwQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNH029Jj1qx_XV-mvKK_g8DF-uheeA" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
<img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://www.mid-day.com/imagedata/2011/feb/mariomiranda.jpg&sa=X&ei=nNDnTpeTJu-0iQekgK3jCA&ved=0CAwQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNH029Jj1qx_XV-mvKK_g8DF-uheeA" width="370" /></a></div><a href="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://www.mid-day.com/imagedata/2011/feb/mariomiranda.jpg&sa=X&ei=nNDnTpeTJu-0iQekgK3jCA&ved=0CAwQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNH029Jj1qx_XV-mvKK_g8DF-uheeA" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
</a><span style="font-size: x-large;">M</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>o</b></span><b>st</b> of my generation today would perhaps not know who <span style="line-height: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Mario João Carlos do Rosario de Brit de Miranda<span class="Apple-style-span"> was.</span>And I must confess, neither did I. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="line-height: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I knew him simply as a gentleman called Mario Miranda. And I loved his work.</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Still very much do. </span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">It is probable that the first works of Miranda were in the few odd weathered torn, rat nibbled upon (and often damp) copies of the Illustrated Weekly that I as a 4-5 year old dug out. Those were the days right after moving to Delhi. I loved the smell of stale paperback. I loved illustrations, different music,and snooping around. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Those were the days where I had all the time to explore. And I was a dirty kid in that regard.Still am.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">It was only much later of course, that I understood the illustrations in their full humor, their full context.</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><a href="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-isW4KJihwtI/TehVZzRyxoI/AAAAAAAAApE/fe_mD9LdWrQ/s1600/Rajni+Nimbupani_Mario_Miranda.JPG&sa=X&ei=vNDnTqjwG-WUiAf7wYnoCA&ved=0CAwQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNF84jas7BEAucytVMEq-r1xeZx86A" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-isW4KJihwtI/TehVZzRyxoI/AAAAAAAAApE/fe_mD9LdWrQ/s400/Rajni+Nimbupani_Mario_Miranda.JPG&sa=X&ei=vNDnTqjwG-WUiAf7wYnoCA&ved=0CAwQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNF84jas7BEAucytVMEq-r1xeZx86A" width="335" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I remember his name coming up in a creative writing workshop in school sometime when I was probably in the fourth grade aged nine. I do not remember how. I do not remember why. Apart from that, I feel a sense of great shame, dissapointment, hurt and anger at the fact that I have possibly taken his name just once more in a conversation with someone other than myself.</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Mario travelled far and wide in his time. Spain,Portugal,England, The US of A and who knows where else. So it wasn't surprising when I heard a girl about aged six telling her daddy, that the lady on the wall didn't look Indian, and the waiter in the cartoon looked Mexican(one of the positives of television). No. It was one of those moments where your mind discovers it's found a different piece of the same puzzle and the pieces fit...those lightbulb moments that make you feel all smug for a few seconds.</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">This was Cafe Mondegar after a gig at St.Xavier's in Mumbai. Pink Floyd,hot dogs and the realization of it being a dry day.</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><a href="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://www.4to40.com/images/legends/Mario_de_Miranda/Cartoon_by_Mario_de_Miranda.gif&sa=X&ei=2NLnTryHC8LyrQfC3dixBw&ved=0CAwQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNEnpPlLjX4pjXLLtqV5Q89yJ8b4XA" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://www.4to40.com/images/legends/Mario_de_Miranda/Cartoon_by_Mario_de_Miranda.gif&sa=X&ei=2NLnTryHC8LyrQfC3dixBw&ved=0CAwQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNEnpPlLjX4pjXLLtqV5Q89yJ8b4XA" width="245" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">We've seen them over and over, the tigerskin on the politicians floor, the sexy naive young lady making the (not so)eligible bachelor nervous, the loud aunty next door, the big nosed granny and the chubby actress who's been out of business for a while, but the different situations and contexts he managed to place them in, with humor that would often do more than just poke, is what made him the genius that he was. Add to that the ability to make people hear noises, sounds and voices and often even smell different fragrances and aromas(sometimes not very pleasing) with a few simple strokes of a pen.Within a box.</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">One can hear the granny's loud voice in the cartoons, with the quavers, the trembles. One can smell the perfume of his well endowed miss universe. One can feel the bustling streets of his city.One can feel the cool breeze on top of his mountains, with the music and celebration of his carnivals downhill. One can feel the cramped sixteen- people-per-square-metre-of-area-Mumbai-Local on a hot humid day. One can sense the tension between to romantics on a table...... And the lines simply signed, sealed and delivered. </span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">He was a magician. The most gifted, for he had the talent which evolved into this unhinged ability to transform the mundane into the exciting. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">The ability to draw something so simple, yet carry a not so simple meaning, in not so easy times, in a not so very small and simple context.....and if that wasn't enough, he actually managed to get us to relate to the characters in his tiny boxes....and then the cheeky man that he was, make us fall in love with them.</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t4y82GqnOpk/TehVI7Udi8I/AAAAAAAAAok/Icr5xBsbHG4/s1600/local.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t4y82GqnOpk/TehVI7Udi8I/AAAAAAAAAok/Icr5xBsbHG4/s400/local.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">His cartoons simply reflect... him. Just as a book does it's author. There was never a dull colorless day in his world, one would feel. Always vibrant, happy, chirpy, funny and slightly cocky at times. He could lighten up the most grim of situations.Socio or economic..or even private domestic. *wink* wink* *nudge nudge*. His dynamism on paper reflected our society's change through time and this country's ironies portrayed in a way that would lighten up a person's morning. They reflected a country and society that was moving from begging to negotiating.</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">His toons were fresh and breezy, laid back and simply chilled. Maybe that was the Goan in him, maybe not. We shall never know.</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">So the next time I am at Cafe Mondegar, or at Toons in Pune, or anywhere I see cartoons adorning the walls that might even remotely have taken inspiration from him and his work, I shall make it a point to bring up the man, who manufactured the mood that is to be forever rushing through those spaces. </span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><a href="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://farm1.static.flickr.com/157/369869487_3110be5360.jpg&sa=X&ei=wtHnToOfC4bqrQe--qHGBw&ved=0CAwQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNHo__EhBqdDb3z_iX0rhxLudALkcg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://farm1.static.flickr.com/157/369869487_3110be5360.jpg&sa=X&ei=wtHnToOfC4bqrQe--qHGBw&ved=0CAwQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNHo__EhBqdDb3z_iX0rhxLudALkcg" width="400" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">And I almost forgot. He did a jolly good job of making sheets of paper delivering depressing news getting people to smile. Even if it was only for a second.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">(Imagine the number of blessings. His readership/viewership would a be good place to start I think. Daily.Monthly.Yearly.)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Here's to you Mr Miranda. I'd love to see what you cook from up there, poking away at our tiny insignificant existences and happenings. I promise I'll take life just as seriously as your toons did in their vibrant worlds.</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://www.parrikar.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/mario.jpg&sa=X&ei=0d3nTof-LYXRrQe-nYGjBw&ved=0CAwQ8wc4Rg&usg=AFQjCNFY_NL_BdiFF8PI3FltdPVueOwBTg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://www.parrikar.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/mario.jpg&sa=X&ei=0d3nTof-LYXRrQe-nYGjBw&ved=0CAwQ8wc4Rg&usg=AFQjCNFY_NL_BdiFF8PI3FltdPVueOwBTg" width="252" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1926-2011</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://www.thehindu.com/multimedia/dynamic/00861/12TH-MARIO_MIRANDA_861789e.jpg&sa=X&ei=GtfnToLiJ8ntrAe5mMi7Bw&ved=0CAsQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNH3eyQbiRhWoRq10dg6Cn1Ddratmw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://www.thehindu.com/multimedia/dynamic/00861/12TH-MARIO_MIRANDA_861789e.jpg&sa=X&ei=GtfnToLiJ8ntrAe5mMi7Bw&ved=0CAsQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNH3eyQbiRhWoRq10dg6Cn1Ddratmw" width="289" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I wonder....how would it feel to be cartoonified by Mr Miranda? I can't imagine. Nor can I comprehend.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Only recently did I discover that he worked with Charles Schulz(Peanuts) for a while. Who knows, perhaps one of those Charlie Brown, Violet or Snoopy one liners that you may have or may read, could be Mr. Miranda talking. </span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://bigtopfive.com.s120608.gridserver.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/Snoopy-best-peanuts-characters.gif&sa=X&ei=td7nTuqKA8O4rAfOoK2lBw&ved=0CAwQ8wc4SQ&usg=AFQjCNG3xNXqy7UjetQz2sQ68S46Mfc6BQ" imageanchor="1" style="display: inline !important; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.google.co.in/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://bigtopfive.com.s120608.gridserver.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/Snoopy-best-peanuts-characters.gif&sa=X&ei=td7nTuqKA8O4rAfOoK2lBw&ved=0CAwQ8wc4SQ&usg=AFQjCNG3xNXqy7UjetQz2sQ68S46Mfc6BQ" width="143" /></a></div><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Mario Miranda potrait courtesy <a href="http://www.parrikar.com/blog/2011/12/11/mario-miranda-1926-2011/">Rajan Parikar</a>. Images courtesy Google Image Search.</span></span></div></div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-79149270948624034122011-12-05T18:56:00.009+05:302011-12-06T11:47:02.385+05:30School Choice National Conference 2011<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div align="center" style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center"><table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; width: 600px;"><tbody>
<tr style="height: 42.75pt; mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;"> <td colspan="2" style="background: #006699; height: 42.75pt; padding: 3.75pt 3.75pt 3.75pt 3.75pt;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="width: 525px;"><tbody>
<tr style="height: 42.75pt; mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"> <td style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; height: 42.75pt; padding-bottom: 0cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="mso-cellspacing: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184; width: 99.98%;"><tbody>
<tr style="height: 42.25pt; mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"> <td style="height: 42.25pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><b><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CIjMN4a--wk/TtzJrVW6QiI/AAAAAAAAAMw/Eqm1PNkKusE/s1600/scc-logo-transparent.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CIjMN4a--wk/TtzJrVW6QiI/AAAAAAAAAMw/Eqm1PNkKusE/s1600/scc-logo-transparent.gif" /></a><b><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">SCHOOL CHOICE</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> NATIONAL CONFERENCE </span> </span></b></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="text-align: center;"></b><br />
<div style="display: inline !important; text-align: left;"><b style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Catalysing Education for All:</span></b></b></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"></span></b><br />
<div style="display: inline !important; text-align: left;"><b style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Intention, Innovation, and Implementation</span></b></span></b></div></div></div></td> <td style="height: 42.25pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></td> </tr>
</tbody></table></td> </tr>
</tbody></table></td> </tr>
<tr style="height: 406.4pt; mso-yfti-irow: 1;"> <td style="background: #FFCC33; height: 406.4pt; padding: 3.75pt 3.75pt 3.75pt 3.75pt; width: 312.1pt;" valign="top" width="416"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="margin-left: 0.65pt; width: 403px;"><tbody>
<tr style="height: 366.3pt; mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"> <td style="height: 366.3pt; padding: 7.5pt 7.5pt 7.5pt 7.5pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 17.65pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.schoolchoice.in/" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Centre for Civil Society</span></b></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> and</span> <a href="http://www.schoolchoice.in/" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #990000;">School Choice Campaign</span></b></a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">take great pleasure in inviting you to attend the third annual School Choice National Conference on Wednesday, 21 December 2011 at The Theatre, India Habitat Centre, Delhi, India. The conference will bring together top-level academics, policy makers and education experts to discuss, debate and formulate innovative policy ideas to achieve quality education for all children. The conference starts at 9am and closes with cocktails at 6pm.</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 17.65pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Key sessions of the conference will be</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 46.2pt; text-indent: -18pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 10pt;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Implementation of RTE: One year after</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 46.2pt; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 46.2pt; text-indent: -18pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 10pt;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Public Private Partnerships: Building sustainable models</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 46.2pt; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 46.2pt; text-indent: -18pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 10pt;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Secondary Education: Renewed objectives</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 46.2pt; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 46.2pt; text-indent: -18pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; font-size: 10pt;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Disruptive Innovation in Education: Looking to technology</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 46.2pt; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 46.2pt; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">REGISTER NOW!</span></b><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.schoolchoice.in/scnc2011" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">http://www.schoolchoice.in/scnc2011</span></a></span></b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Early Bird Registration:</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b><br />
</b> Rs 1500/- (US$ 30)</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
Rs 750/- (US$ 15) per person for NGO </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">leaders, research scholars and school principals</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
Free registration for students</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">After 12 December, registration fee is Rs 5000 (US$ 100)</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
</span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">Contact: Baishali Bomjan<br />
Email: </span><a href="mailto:scnc@ccs.in" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">scnc@ccs.in</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> Mobile: +91-85273 87708</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
For the Right to Education of Choice!</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></td> </tr>
</tbody></table></td> <td style="background: #FFCC33; height: 406.4pt; padding: 3.75pt 3.75pt 3.75pt 3.75pt; width: 137.65pt;" valign="top" width="184"><div align="center"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="margin-left: 0.3pt; width: 171px;"><tbody>
<tr style="height: 8.4pt; mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;"> <td style="background: #990000; height: 8.4pt; padding: 3.75pt 3.75pt 3.75pt 3.75pt;"><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">FEATURED SPEAKERS</span></b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></td> </tr>
<tr style="height: 338.5pt; mso-yfti-irow: 1; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"> <td style="height: 338.5pt; padding: 3.75pt 3.75pt 3.75pt 3.75pt;"><div align="center"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="width: 160px;"><tbody>
<tr style="height: 28.8pt; mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;"> <td style="height: 28.8pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></td> <td style="height: 28.8pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Amit Kaushik</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> COO, Educomp Infrastructure & Schools Management</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></span></div></td> </tr>
<tr style="height: 22.0pt; mso-yfti-irow: 1;"> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></td> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Anil Swarup</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> Director General & Head<br />
RSBY</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></span></div></td> </tr>
<tr style="height: 22.0pt; mso-yfti-irow: 2;"> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></td> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Ashish Dhawan</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> Senior Managing Director ChrysCapita</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">l</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></td> </tr>
<tr style="height: 21.65pt; mso-yfti-irow: 3;"> <td style="height: 21.65pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></td> <td style="height: 21.65pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Dilip Chenoy</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> CEO, National Skills Development Corp</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></span></div></td> </tr>
<tr style="height: 21.65pt; mso-yfti-irow: 4;"> <td style="height: 21.65pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></td> <td style="height: 21.65pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Geeta Kingdon</span></b><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Professor, Univ of London</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></span></div></td> </tr>
<tr style="height: 22.0pt; mso-yfti-irow: 5;"> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></td> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Karthik Muralidharan</span></b><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Asst Professor, Univ of California</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></span></div></td> </tr>
<tr style="height: 22.0pt; mso-yfti-irow: 6;"> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></td> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Maya Menon</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> Founder Director<br />
Teacher Foundation</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></span></div></td> </tr>
<tr style="height: 22.0pt; mso-yfti-irow: 7;"> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></td> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Michael Latham</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> Regional Director<br />
CfBT</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></span></div></td> </tr>
<tr style="height: 22.0pt; mso-yfti-irow: 8;"> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></td> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Parth J Shah</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> President<br />
Centre for Civil Society</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></span></div></td> </tr>
<tr style="height: 22.0pt; mso-yfti-irow: 9;"> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></td> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">R Sridhar</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> Managing Director<br />
Educational Initiatives</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><br />
</span></span></div></td> </tr>
<tr style="height: 22.0pt; mso-yfti-irow: 10;"> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></td> <td style="height: 22.0pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><b><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Sem Haokip</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> CEO<br />
SPTWD</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> Former Chief Secretary<br />
Government of Gujarat</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> Professor<br />
Newcastle Univ</span></span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> CEO, Datawind<br />
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</div></div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-61322260391413430432011-11-29T23:19:00.001+05:302011-11-29T23:42:09.380+05:30I've got that feeling back oh yes.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">High Dynamic Range photography is the rage these days. For those unaware, it is when we take three photographs of the same setting or object with different exposures and merge them to bring out details with an interesting impact to the overall face of the picture. We then tone map( fiddle with technicalities), to bring out something that would not be possible with just one picture.<br />
<br />
There's a lot of criticism about HDR and tone mapping.A lot of photographers look down upon it, like a loudmouth bloke from the northern plains in a library, or flirting at a funeral. You could also compare it to using Nitrous oxide to give your car a temporary boost of speed.It's not cheating when it's a street race....if you get what I mean. A rock guitarist to a classical sitarist, a free style pop locker to ballet............you get my drift.<br />
<br />
<br />
Anyway, so the following is the FIRST time I've dipped my feet into this pool.....and I think I'm going to be here for a while.<br />
<br />
<br />
I'd just like to know.......which one you think is the better of them....,,I had to compress them(twice) to get them on here...but yes...let me know.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cBADgmNC2y4/TtUac6VcANI/AAAAAAAAAMY/-pNmOf01qiM/s1600/Copy+of+1Sharp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cBADgmNC2y4/TtUac6VcANI/AAAAAAAAAMY/-pNmOf01qiM/s640/Copy+of+1Sharp.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IW_IrkZFRns/TtUaanuTOrI/AAAAAAAAAMI/AJvFDjP35OA/s1600/Copy+of+1BW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IW_IrkZFRns/TtUaanuTOrI/AAAAAAAAAMI/AJvFDjP35OA/s640/Copy+of+1BW.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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Cheers :) </div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-34668662595088140082011-11-29T01:25:00.000+05:302011-11-29T01:25:49.158+05:30Another year gone.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I've never liked birthdays. I feel at unease with too many happy people around.It feels claustrophobic. I'm not a very sociable person(which you may or may not have realized by now), I like being by myself or maybe celebrating with a person or two over a glass of whiskey probably over good conversation, with good music in the background maybe.<br />
<br />
When people learn it's your birthday, there's this sudden burst of happiness, as if life was gift from God,which is far from the ground reality, that a birthday is all but a huge fabricated lie.<br />
<br />
As a child, your birthday is the day when people would not scold you, or your teacher would pretend you didn't exist when it came to homework. But as we grow older, the circumstances change, but it essentially is the same thing.<br />
<br />
It's almost like someone dying.<br />
<br />
Birthday celebrations for me have been synonymous with superficiality, superfluousness.....a constant reminder through the entire day, as to how happiness is short lived...a day which I look forward to ending, to rid myself of this magnum load of 'feeling special' that is thrust upon me. It is a day that people don't bother remembering, because they're to busy getting through with their lives.<br />
<br />
For as long as I can remember,my birthdays have been routine. Calls in the night beginning with the girls who enjoy calling people and wishing them, to the people who are up on facebook at 4 AM who after seeing the right upper corner of their page rush to get their phones...after all, the sooner you get over with it the better, of course. Sleeping rather early in the morning only to wake up towards mid afternoon(I would take off from school, or come back home early), start looking back at the year, what I hoped to achieve, and what I actually had. Have all the birthday wishes pouring in from here and there. From the few hundred facebook friends who wouldn't know otherwise, but still took the pains to post a wish on my wall. The day would continue and me lost in my thoughts of heavy self introspection would continue to go about like any other day and towards the end have dinner with the family.<br />
<br />
Then I would come back, and by now all the positivity and happiness would feel like a rich gravy of guilt that would eventually be borderline nauseating.<br />
<br />
So, I celebrate not my birthday, but it's passing. It's by the end of the day that I finally come to terms with my failures,my disappointments, the realization that another year has passed, that I am a year older, that there are people exactly my age fighting wars, and winning grammys while I haven't even taxied to the runway, let alone take off. I pour myself a drink as the clock strikes 12 and the day has gone. I'm finally back to normal again.<br />
<br />
This year was slightly different.<br />
<br />
One- I forgot my birthday, until I was reminded by two friends.<br />
<br />
Two- I was not in school, or at home, but in an office, loving my work.<br />
<br />
Three- A senior at work, discovered it was my birthday after seeing the wishes on my facebook profile(hiding the date did not help)<br />
<br />
Four- He along with everyone in the office(including the director) decided to throw a party for the new workaholic intern.( They just needed an excuse...but yeah)<br />
<br />
Five- Samosas and Jalebis, with candles on them.<br />
<br />
<br />
Very Awkward.<br />
<br />
<br />
I continued with work until 7 PM and then headed home after a solitary walk towards getting an auto rickshaw, while smoking a gold flake. Dinner with family at the LaLit and I was back home.<br />
<br />
This was one of my 'happier' birthdays. I was too busy to think. And I still celebrated the passing. Chivas 15 years.<br />
<br />
If my dad finds out , needless to say, this will be the last post birthday posts from me.<br />
<br />
But it's now I realize, what a crazy year it's been. After 2009, this is probably crazier. I'll write about both later on, but for now, this should do it. I have work tomorrow. So see you soon.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3466013735184312288.post-27875252293037362002011-11-21T02:28:00.000+05:302011-11-21T02:28:00.955+05:30It's back.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It's back. That sinking feeling.The anger.The frustration. I'm back home.<br />
<br />
No it's no joke. I thought I was over it. But old habits die hard. The episodes of manic rage.<br />
The urge to harm......the excessive drinking....the feeling of not being enough. The feeling of evil, the rush.<br />
<br />
The chains that went away.<br />
<br />
Why do I feel tied down when I am supposed to have freed myself?<br />
<br />
The question is....<br />
<br />
What do I do about it?</div>UjjwalRaajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701431415717010561noreply@blogger.com4