tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52550040055322904772024-02-19T18:34:28.042+05:30The Phoenix's Song..Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-65836893847381767012018-06-03T12:55:00.000+05:302018-06-03T12:55:29.912+05:30The Curious incident of the dog in the morning!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">Early in the morning today, at about</span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;"> </span><span class="aBn" data-term="goog_741871055" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">4:30 am</span></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">, I could hear noises- I woke up wondering if somebody had entered the house or if the noises were from outside.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US">Living downstairs is a whole new experience in itself- all the sounds of the neighboring houses, the trees and the birds, the <span class="il">dogs</span>, the cats, the cabs that come to drop people late in the night, the people who come home late after a late dinner or a party – everything is known to us. It is pretty darn annoying at first – especially when you don’t know that the kids in the neighboring house have a habit of creating a ruckus only post <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_741871056" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">11pm</span></span> and not one minute before that. For the first two days, I would respond in shock to the sudden shrills that could be heard from their house, I would wonder what the parents were doing to them to make them revolt so violently. When it continued to happen on the third day, I realized it was a pattern, and now it has become the new normal. Being a light sleeper does not help when there so many noises to keep waking you up through the night, but I have gotten accustomed to it.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">So, back to this morning. It was obvious that somebody was growling/making noises that the stomach only makes when you have starved yourself to the point where the stomach decides to take over. At first, I ignored the noise. (That’s what happens when you have woken up more than a dozen times to the wind hitting the gate giving you a feel that someone is knocking, or when you feel there’s some problem only to realize that the baby in the behind house just decided to wake up and scream it’s lungs out or some such, so hey, don’t blame me!)<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The noise persisted. I had successfully managed to turn a deaf ear to the persistent noise until my brother said, “Don’t you hear some noise?” Now, my brother is a deep sleeper. He is an early riser, but if he says there’s some noise that needs to be looked into, it usually means there <i>is</i> something that needs to be looked into, coz he just doesn’t react to anything so quickly. I immediately woke up. We lit the flashlight of the phone, and peeped through the kitchen window ( from where we get a view of our portico) to see who our visitor was – if there was anyone at all.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Staring back at us with eyes that shone in the dark was a <span class="il">dog</span>, and I was left wondering how it got in in the first place.<u></u><u></u></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">My brother went away to get ready, he doesn’t have any business with any of these <span class="il">dog</span> beings. I slowly opened the main door, put two khakras and kept a bowl of water, assuming it was hungry. (In my defense, I didn’t have anything else to feed the <span class="il">dog</span>, and hence my strange choice of food. Not to mention that it still was <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_741871057" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">5am</span></span> or something in the morning.) The <span class="il">dog</span> stared at me for a while, came closer, sniffed the khakra, deemed it inedible, and just moved aside from the gate. I took it as a cue to open the gate for the poor thing, and left the gate open. It immediately walked out, and didn’t look back. Strange thing was, the hind legs of the <span class="il">dog</span> was twisted – didn’t make me feel any better. I kept the khakras out hoping that some birds or worms would pick them up, and walked back right in, where my brother applauded my courage to open the main door and go close to a <span class="il">dog</span> that looked like it could have eaten anything or anyone that went close to it. But I guess the taste of freedom is sweeter than the taste of food!</span></div>
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Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-26949188125785818492018-01-31T20:12:00.000+05:302018-06-03T12:52:08.555+05:30Travel diaries- Hyderabad to Bengaluru!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">They say if there’s an innocent amongst a hundred criminals, the law of the universe is to save the hundred rather than punish one innocent. Surely there was one such innocent on the bus I took back home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">The fates of hundreds</span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;"> intertwined, we travel as a single unit in a bus from Hyderabad to Bangalore. The fate of the bus is the fate of all of us, and my strong belief is that the fate of all of us is indeed the fate of the bus.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Context: I’m traveling from Hyderabad to Bengaluru by Orange travels.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">2:45am: I wake up to see two women standing at the driver’s seat, and a man checking some diesel pipes in the bus.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Me: What’s up?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">The woman standing: We have a diesel leak in the bus- they’re figuring if it is fixable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">2:50am: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Technical guy who analysed the issue- It is just a pipe problem, fixable in ten minutes, but we don’t have the necessary material to fix it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Orange Bus customer care: Please fix it using an alternate material available.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">By then frantic passengers: We aren’t gonna board a bus we know might go up in flames. Sorry nope. Find us alternate transport.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Me: Curiously looking around.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">2:55am: 6-8 of us off the bus.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Driver: *screaming* Don’t worry Saar, we will refund your money entirely!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">A miffed passenger: Money? Who cares about the refund! Get me a way to go to Bangalore.. now!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Bus coordinator: (to the driver) Can you stop talking right now? Just shut up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Me: Outside is a cool breeze (which is just the right amount of cool, not cold), the moon looks strangely beautiful (and bigger?), and I realise I am still alive. We didn’t have any fatal accident, refund or no refund, Bangalore or no Bangalore in the next few hours, refreshingly alive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">And then I laughed. Out loud. The girl who laughs when she loses her way around any place on vacation seems to have not changed. One bit. I like it. I don’t try to hid my smile amidst all the tension. Just text my manager that I’m definitely going to late the next day. Don’t text anyone else because I’m actually not one bit worried, but anyone else close to me would be freaked to hear this. I put my phone back in, and a woman around me strikes conversation with the three of us who are standing with her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">By now, two buses have passed us, one of them being an Orange travels itself, both merciless to even stop and ask what the problem is. Disgrace to humanity- but that doesn’t faze me. However one other passenger is beyond livid, and is asking what kind of orange travels bus goes off without checking on another that’s in trouble. I’m too absorbed about my good fortune that nothing really has happened to be worried or angry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">I’m just smiling away still, and this woman says “Thank your stars we are our alive and haven’t gone up in flames!” I’m amused. She thinks like me. I laugh. She misunderstands, “there has been one such incident of the same bus on the same highway”, she explains. I’m surprised. I thought Orange was a very safe bus to travel in.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">3:00am: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">By then another bus (of Morning Star) stops, takes us in though they are completely booked, and let’s us sit on the floor in the space between the two columns of seats they have. Thank God that I have experience to sit down, four hours of travel sitting in some posture close to padmasana is not the biggest ordeal. Three of them have crouched sideways and attempting sleep, I doubt they realise they are going to feel cramped on one side of the body in about 20 minutes’ time. However sitting cross legged is not an option for them, so I stay quiet. A few men who also got in have comfortably settled in crossed legged too. And then I attempt to sleep. And succeed. I keep waking up in between, but there’s absolutely zero tension or worry or any such during the whole time, so the sleep was strangely good quality. I guess there is an inner adventure lover in me- and any deviation from routine that does not involve life risk is something I welcome with open arms. Actually no guessing, it’s a definite.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">I had to change a bus in the morning from Devanahalli to get to Silk Board, and a kind gentleman offered me a seat on his single sleeper berth. I took it, only to realise that the door would hit my legs each time it opened, since that was the first seat. And oh, did I mention long legs? Never have I so strongly felt about wanting shorter legs- thoughts were along the lines of- long legs are needed if one is in modelling, which I am not remotely associated with. What’s the use of this? Sigh. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">In the last 24 hours, I have seen a lot of humanity- in a person who gave me a seat when I changed buses in the morning, in a bus coordinator who gave me entry to the bus while the driver had already turned me away, in the few women with whom five minutes of conversation and sharing a bus journey on literally the floor of a bus was pleasant just thanks to the way we looked at it, in one of the men on our original bus who said “Let all the women and children go by the buses that pass by first, the men can go later.” That was some chivalry at display, ( and might I say sense) considering he had his wife and child traveling with us- and he didn’t mind being left behind while they went ahead of him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">When I put up a WhatsApp display picture which said “Adventure is out there. Go find it”, one of my friends commented saying do you really know what you are asking for? It was intriguing that she asked me that- I thought okay I have asked for adventure for an entire day (that’s how long the dp lasted), let me take it off and so I did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">So this whole incident had me thinking of three important things:</span></div>
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<li style="color: #454545; font-family: '.sf ui text'; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Who was that one innocent- rather who were the bunch of innocents (for lack of a better word) whose fates were strong enough to decide that the bus didn’t meet anything fatal? Whoever they were, much gratitude to them- one can never tell.</span></li>
<li style="color: #454545; font-family: '.sf ui text'; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">While I wondered why exactly did I have such an experience, I realised that it was my call for adventure that brought this upon me- and am just happy that I didn’t miss the experience- in fact, I devoured it :P</span></li>
<li style="color: #454545; font-family: '.sf ui text'; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Strongly realised that life is not a one way street- what you seek is seeking you! So what are YOU seeking?</span></li>
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Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-42912119388678602162017-12-23T21:29:00.002+05:302017-12-23T21:33:39.022+05:30REVIVE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, not the revive that replaces your need for starch!<br />
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Reviving- this blog, the habit of blogging, and my self. That’s the whole idea.<br />
It’s been aeons since I found the need to write here- life has taken many a twist and a turn since I last updated here, and the person who wrote on this blog before no longer is the person writing today. Well the identity with which she goes in the real world is still the same (my account isn’t hacked :P), but the person behind that identity- well the old me is no more.<br />
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Out of all the twists and turns on the road of life, some have been sweet, some bitter, and some bittersweet. From someone who was a total out and out extrovert to an introvert today, the journey has been surprising, to say the least.<br />
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This afternoon, while on my way to a friend’s place, this blog came calling in my thoughts- and as is my habit, I answered that call. I am now answering, rather. I wistfully thought of all the auto stories that I have missed writing here- all the good folks whose lives I hear about in morning conversations enroute to work, all those who hate Bengaluru’s traffic and yet are here for their livelihood, a few mean ones who I don’t figure before getting into their rick, and a few more who happen to drop me multiple times - and how the familiarity makes me love Bengaluru even more! When I meet the same auto person a second or third time, it gives me the feels of a rural countryside where everyone knows each other and everyone’s lives are beautifully interwoven into the others’- and I do give reigns to that imagination-before being dropped off to work which is indeed in this city of Bengaluru- a city, not countryside at all! Familiarity and kindness with folks who have seldom any business with our lives - like the cab and auto folks- in my daily life is that dose of uncertainty about who I will meet the next day. The irony isn’t lost on me however, that every single day I put my life in the hands of a complete stranger, quite literally, to transport me from home to office and vice versa. When’s Floo powder going to work for muggles? (Potter heads, I can’t resist a few esoteric references here and there!) I have also missed writing about my new workplace- it’s called Tally Solutions- and have definitely missed writing about Mr. Bharat Goenka, Tally’s founder. This is a customary beginning of sorts post- so I will not delve into too much details of everything- but suffice it to say I’m a huge fan. More about the man and his principles and my absolutely justified fandom in a later post :D There’s a lot more that this blog took than just about musings of my daily commute and work- it also was where I pondered aloud of life when life became unfathomable, put up stuff about classroom mayhem scenes (which now easily translates to office mayhem scenes- surprising how mayhem remains a common denominator :D). Here’s to everything that I wish to bring back on the blog- a bit of my life, and a bit more of me :)<br />
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Winding up feeling thoroughly satisfied- here’s to yet another new beginning. When an old friend (like this blog) comes knocking(even if just in thoughts), it is after all not done to leave the door unanswered!</div>
Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-66106606430280895262014-01-15T19:36:00.004+05:302014-01-15T19:40:30.903+05:30Coma.. and the wife.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Short Story: (a meaningless one )</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“An angel must’ve saved you!” joked his sister, as she bought light coffee for her brother who had just awoken from coma.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“No… It wasn’t an angel, it was my wife.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Wife? We were here all night Mithun, and your wife did not come here last night. She went home 6 months ago, and she said she won’t come back. Maybe it was her dreams that woke you up, but not the real girl”, said his mother.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“NO.. I know the difference between a dream and reality. She was here, right here. I don’t know how she woke me from my coma, that you must ask her” said Mithun, completely convinced that she had come the night before.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Alka is in Pune, not in Kashmir; and even if she were in Kashmir, she wouldn’t come back. No. It was your fault that she left, and I doubt she would ever forgive you”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Mithun sighed. How would he ever convince them that if she hadn’t called his name in her own sweet voice, he wouldn’t have woken up? How would he explain the touch of her hand on his forehead, how would he explain the words she had said to him, wearing the purple saree that was his favourite?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">He decided to let it be. Sooner than later, they’d know.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"> And now that he had drunk a spoon of the light coffee and had orders from the doctor to sleep, he recollected the night’s happenings:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Mithun. Wake up. I thought you lied to me, or worse, cheated me. I thought you found someone else. I thought you had forgotten home. I thought you were everything I should detest and hate, and I left for good. And what did you do? You didn’t lie, or cheat. You didn’t find anyone else. You definitely didn’t forget your home, and you were the last person I would hate if I knew. But you didn’t tell. Why? You didn’t inform, not one letter. For 6 months. What should we think? Nobody stopped me when I left home, for they longer knew why they had to stop me.” She placed her hand on his forehead, and it was soaking with sweat.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">His head was throbbing, he wanted to answer her, but it seemed that he was sleeping and she was talking to him when he was asleep. Why would she disturb his sound sleep? She knew he was injured, and he needed rest.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">She continued.. “Do you remember the lunches you promised to take me on? The dinner we were supposed to have in the lightless restaurant in Swiss? Do you remember that we had to visit the Wat Poh, to pray for a happy life? The long vacation to Tahiti?”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">OH! He had forgotten. He had forgotten his dreams, his wishes.. He listened.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“What about your friends who are waiting to meet you? What about your sister? What about your parents, and what about me? Don’t you want to get up and talk?”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">He didn’t remember this either. That his friends were waiting for him, and that his family missed him. He thought to himself as to why he didn’t remember. But there she was, his beloved wife, reminding him of all the wonderful things he seemed to not remember about.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Do you remember the midnight coffees and the long drives, and the beach trips and the group hangouts? No, I’m sure you don’t remember. But most of all, do you remember that you promised to spend a lifetime with me, not just 1 year and 6 months? No, I don’t think you do.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">He was angry. At himself. Because he couldn’t remember talking to his wife in a long time, and now though his sleep was so deep and comforting, he needed to wake up that moment and reply—</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Yes. Yes I remember”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">His voice sounded rough, even to himself, and his vision seemed blurred.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Actually no, I don’t remember. I didn’t remember. If not for you, I would have never remembered” he smiled.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">His lips cracked, and it started bleeding.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">His lovely wife, draped in his favourite purple saree, couldn’t believe her eyes it seemed. She was too overwhelmed to speak, she had suddenly lost her words, and had tears flowing down her cheeks.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Alka? Alka!”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Thank God!” she screamed, with the rare display of intense emotions she always felt, kissed him on the forehead.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Take care, I’ll be back”, she said, and left.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Why are you leaving?”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">She didn’t answer. She simply left, and he couldn’t do anything, not even speak a little louder. He felt weak.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">She came the next night, and the third. And she left, every day, after spending those two precious, joyful hours with him. He was too weak to stop her, and she was too stubborn to tell him why she did this.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">So he contented himself with the two hour daily visit, and promised himself that he wouldn’t let her go once he became stronger.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">He had promised her not to mention of her daily visits to his parents, though he didn’t know why she was hiding from his parents.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">It was five days since, and they were talking about travel. Whether a vagabond life would be good, or whether it would be better to call some place home. She said she would love a bit of both, being a sort of a vagabond and yet having a place to call home.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Imagine living in the deserts of Rajasthan for a month. It would strengthen our souls, and make us appreciate life in Kashmir so much more. We don’t have to suffer the wrath of the hot sun like in the desert, we don’t have to search for water like people there, nor do we have to cover every inch of our skin from the fear of having sun burns. And yet they live, the locals, with just as much happiness, if not more, than us Kashmir locals, who have been truly blessed by God”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Yes” he agreed. He imagined himself in a turban and dhoti, and his wife wearing bangles right up to her arms just like the Rajasthani women. He smiled, that would be lovely.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">The clock turned four, and she got up to leave.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“STOP!” he screamed, as much as his voice would allow his injured self to.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Alka continued to walk, she was almost at the door.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Stop”, he whispered. She controlled the tears that had welled up in her big, sad eyes, and opened the door.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“Alka. Alka! ” her father in law froze.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Her father in law had just arrived at the door of his son’s hospital ward, and he made so sign of allowing Alka to go. She didn’t know what to do, she couldn’t go now, it was too late.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“So it is true.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">She stood without saying a word, without knowing what he would say to her.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">He said nothing either, and silence followed.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">She recollected her words of the last day at Mithun’s place:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“I have waited more than any of you for his letters, and it has been a long while since we heard from him. You had convinced me that he would come back, that you knew your son well, he loves his family and me, yes I also believed so. But it has been way too long, 6 years is a long time, and I believe your son has no intention of coming back, and he’s very well not dead, because if he was, we would’ve been informed. He hasn’t replied to any of the mails, and no correspondence from his colleagues either. Does this mean anything to all of you? Every minute here reminds me of him, and his betrayal, and I can stand it no more, which is why I must leave this place, the blessed land of Kashmir, and try to find peace. I know none of you will stop me, which makes it all the more worse. Know that I will remember my family, I can never forget you all, but to find peace, I must walk away.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">And she had left.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">She had imagined the worst, and fled. She didn’t have anything to prove her wrong. His family also didn’t know what to think, they only prayed for his welfare, and wished he would return home some day. They didn’t know if they should stop Alka from leaving, but they hadn’t stopped her, because it was killing her more than them in that house, the house that had become hers because of him.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">And that day, when she found him, fate decided to intervene.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">She was forced to get admitted to a hospital for a day for wart removal, and she had come to the one in Kashmir because this was one hospital she knew. This was the closest she had come to home (rather Mithun’s home) in the past 6 months, and it pained her just the same. And when she was getting discharged, there was this register at the desk, and only one name caught her eye. Her heart skipped a beat, and with nothing but a ray of hope had she gone up to his ward, only to find his sister next to him. She had decided to come back the next day, and she came. And spoke, and woke him out of his dream.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Mithun’s family were proud to know that their son took a bullet and was in coma for 6 years, and he hadn’t betrayed them the way they had assumed, but it only caused them more grief that the doctor said he would be that way for life. They didn’t want to put Alka through this misery and hadn’t informed her about it, and yet, here Mithun awoke, and claimed that she had come.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">His father wanted to find her, tell her that all was forgiven and she can come back home, but it took him a while to figure out when she came to the hospital, because they were there round the clock. After Mithun’s sister confessed to sleeping from 2 to 4 – it was impossible to stay up whole night—he figured it might be true, and came to find out.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">And there she stood, his daughter in law, just like his son had said. It was true.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;">“I’m sorry”, they both blurted together, father and daughter in law, and then at that moment, she knew she’d found her home again.</span></div>
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Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-70817283794595660122013-12-29T16:15:00.000+05:302013-12-29T16:22:15.939+05:30Speech about silence!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: white;">This was a post written long, long ago; when I had just finished reading "Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a world that cannot stop talking"</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Susan Cain is her name.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Quiet is her book's name.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">And whatte book it is.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Well, a name is an identity mapping, and it plays a prominent role in how you look at people (this happens at a subconscious level, so many of your reactions might have been plain surprise, and some of you who have consciously changed this subconscious pattern can laud yourselves- for you are the people regarded as open by nature (most of the times).</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">And the reason Quiet is the quite at the main focus of my mind is that homo sapiens inhabit this world, and as humans, each one of you has been labelled an extrovert or an introvert at some point in our lives,and each of you, dear readers, can imagine how you felt the first time someone said to your introverted college self, "Speak up, dear boy. You need to speak to get noticed", or someone commenting to the extroverted teen you were a decade ago, "Speaking up is a great habit, keep it up!"</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">Introversion and Extroversion are both good in their own ways, and one thing I read in the book, I agree strongly- there is NO rule that Introverts hate public speaking, they might just get tired of it soon-not scared. And there is really no saying that all extroverts are good thinkers, so all the extroverts out there, time for a reality check. You all undoubtedly respond with oozing confidence, but how often are you accurate, how often are your ideas well thought and worthy?</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">I leave you with this thought: all you introverts, think of the times you've been labelled less creative, just because you didn't speak up. And all you extroverts, vice versa- all your imbecile ideas, acknowledged only because they were spoken.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">None the worse, none the better. Starting today, give a little more credit (and respect if you already don't) to all those amazing contributions by the introverts to the world, and a little more thought to all the things extroverts really say. And oh, I am both an introvert and an extrovert to different degrees, an ambivert, aye. (And in the book, for the first time- in my life- I find the usage of the word ambivert, and am totally delighted by it!)</span></div>
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Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-81436952803284669732013-12-29T10:36:00.002+05:302013-12-29T10:44:23.022+05:30Insanity.. and my cousin.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
NOTE: This is not an article written by me.This is a conversation I had with my cousin last night, and I don't guarantee you laughs or anything worthwhile, though both of us were in splits the whole time we were texting.<br />
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SR: What? Are you crazy or drunk?</div>
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(Well, this was, as you guessed, NOT the first thing she said to me. This was well after we'd spoken a few things which I cannot disclose here, and to my consistently crazy (or as per her, drunk) responses, this was what she said.)</div>
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(OK, I got permission to add this : The above response was in response to this statement of mine: Now that you both are putting the same dps and all, when are you going to get him to meet the family? :D And no no, we can't backtrack beyond this, sorry :D)</div>
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SN: Which one do you think? </div>
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SR: Drunk definitely.</div>
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SN: No amount of getting drunk can fetch you this. It's called Insanity, m'Lady.</div>
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SR: I totally agree :D</div>
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Christmas was one crazy day, can't wait to tell you about it.</div>
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SN: When, after like 100 years?</div>
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SR: I sometimes feel everything is going so fast. Just too fast.</div>
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SN: Like what?</div>
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SR: Friends, crazy things. This year.</div>
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SN: Aww. I understand.</div>
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SR: I feel I have to stop to breathe.</div>
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SN: And then you wonder if you'll miss all this when you do.</div>
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SR: Yeah you just spoke my mind out. How's life with you?</div>
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SN: Life's good. I'm happy like happy happy. Can't ask for more. :)</div>
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SR: I think you're on drugs, no? You sound very perky.</div>
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SN: Think all you want :D Credits to my insanity.</div>
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SR: You're on steroids! Caught ya! :D</div>
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SN: No I just did weeed :D Anything to make you believe. Lol</div>
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SR: Your system is flushed with high levels of serotonin and estrogen. :D :D</div>
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Weed, lol.</div>
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SN: Without weed or alcohol, if my system is flushed with high levels of serotonin and estrogen, can't imagine what will happen if I actually did weed :D</div>
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SR: I wonder what you would do if you got drunk now. Jump off the building? :D</div>
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SN: Naah. I ain't suicidal, or depressed. I'm haappppppy. :) You know? :)</div>
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SR: You don't have to be suicidal to jump, you can even do it for an adrenaline rush.</div>
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Similar to bunjee jumping.</div>
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SN: *An expression of shock* Now my turn. Are you drunk or on drugs?</div>
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SR: Why? *Suspiciously questioning*</div>
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I think I'm sane. Much more than you are :D</div>
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SN: For thinking bunjee jumping and jumping off a building might give you the same "rush" :D</div>
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SR: Ha ha. I didnt mean it :D</div>
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SN: I'm insane, and yet sane enough to know that bunjee jumping and jumping off a building have two very different endings :D You, on the otherhand.. Seems to have lost it :D</div>
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SR: Shut up.</div>
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SN: Sane people have no qualms in calling themselves insane, whereas the truly insane would go any distance to prove their sanity... Aaaand for the record, go back and check, you said you're sane :D :D</div>
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Hence proved!!</div>
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SR: You should write a blog about insanity.</div>
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SN: Why a blog?</div>
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SR: You're writing really well. I appreciate your thought process going so much into our conversation five minutes old!</div>
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SN: You inspire me to simply copy paste this chat.</div>
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Why, I might simply do that :D</div>
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SR: Best do that :D Hilarious stuff.</div>
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SN: I was just about to say "with your permission, of course". I'll really put it up, and my blog is not private.</div>
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Okay? :D</div>
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SR: I don't mind :D</div>
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Yes!</div>
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SN: What "sane" person would mind, right?</div>
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SR: Rofl. You nailed that. :D</div>
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SN: And that's how it ends. Ta da.</div>
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SR: Yaayy yayy. :D<br />
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P.S: I don't write blog posts with the same language I use while texting. I hope the jargon is pardonable.<br />
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P.P.S: "Insanity.. and my cousin" when correctly decoded reads "Me.. and my cousin" (though it should be my cousin and I.. :D) </div>
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Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-77157393367665077582013-03-19T00:35:00.001+05:302013-03-19T00:35:06.842+05:30New<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://www.writeupcafe.com/" title="WriteUp Cafe - Together we Write"><img src="http://i566.photobucket.com/albums/ss107/writeupcafe/Images/badge_members.png" mce_src="http://i566.photobucket.com/albums/ss107/writeupcafe/Images/badge_members.png" width="160" border="0" alt="WriteUp Cafe - Together we Write"/></a>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-91494635747819668352013-03-16T00:08:00.000+05:302013-03-16T00:08:31.812+05:30Shedding Skin<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was reading "Inheritance", Eragon's sequel 4 last week, and somewhere in between the story, the protagonist reaches a point where he needs to know his true name to open a vault (I did not say spoiler alert, because I think all of you would've read it way earlier than me, not to mention this is not a spoiler which people would want to kill me for.)<br />
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--Which reminds me of a very famous spoiler I was at the receiving end of--<br />
In 2005, when Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince had just released, my friends and I stood in the queue from 6a.m to get hold of a copy, so that we'd read it before anyone else did, and so that nobody could spoil it for us. Sadly we had college to attend later, and no, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/krupa.gopal?fref=ts" target="_blank">Krupa</a> and I didn't read novels in class-atleast in 11th std :D ( I think Krupa was preparing for NTSE that time, not entirely sure. :P) So I go to BASE in the evening, and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/soumya.shyamasundar?fref=ts" target="_blank">Soumya</a> enters. The very first thing she says: "Dumbledore dies!". I go like, "Whaaaaaaaaaaa!!" That was the worst spoiler ever. Worshtest. <br />
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I see that my digression has gone on longer the point I was trying to make. So coming back..<br />
His true name. The protagonist needs his true name, and you will know your true name if you know who you truly are (So difficult, no?); so Eragon goes into thinking mode and thinks about who he truly is. And like most protagonists, he does what is required from him- he figures out his true name in a matter of a few days, and opens the vault.<br />
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Eragon's brother Murtagh's true name will be known to our beloved villian of the story Galbatorix, and anyone who knows your true name has complete control over you.<br />
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In the end, though Galbatorix knows Murtagh's true name, that will be the boy's old true name. Murtagh would've changed in course of time, and along with him changing, his true name; and that plays a major factor in the brothers' defeating Galbatorix. I've given away the whole novel, oops.<br />
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Case in point: The true names change as people change. Change is such a damned constant in life, whether you and I like it or not. We can scorn all we like, or embrace it like a dear friend.<br />
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I don't know if I scorn at change or embrace it, but that's not my point.<br />
My point is my blog's title.<br />
I'd titled this blog "Tranquility" years ago, with a picture in my mind.<br />
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Sitting on the sands of a beach, watching the waves crash and listening to the sound of the waves.. Being lost to the world, and only watching the vastness of the water expanding upto the horizon.. <br />
With some music and good food, and a good book to read..<br />
And friends to laugh with, and live in oblivion to all else..<br />
Coz the sea is second to <strong><em>Tranquility..</em></strong><br />
So quiet, so peaceful, so calm..<br />
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This was what my blog represented to me, a quiet retreat from the rest of the world where only traquility prevailed and the sea was my constant companion.. I longed for tranquility, for peace, for the calm of the sea; and hence the name..<br />
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And today I find the blog's purpose met, I find the sea's tranquility as my own, and I find I have newer purposes- and hence I talk about shedding skin. Snakes shed their skin from time to time and grow new skins. I shed my blog's old skin and arise with whole new skin. Here's to the old name, I enjoyed writing to Tranquility. And here's to the new one, and to all the posts I'll put up under this name! As always, I welcome your comments. <br />
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Peace!<br />
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Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-28717878296908242082012-10-09T15:55:00.001+05:302012-10-09T15:59:25.896+05:30Flashback- of a Not so Distant Past..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There is jubilance in the air (and so are we – we haven’t landed yet :P), and the crowd breaks into applause. I’m surprised that anybody would express their joy for a mere phenomenon of landing, and turn to look at Amit in astonishment. He looks at me like as if their reaction is normal, and I begin to see reason. After a few pictures on the runway, the three of us walk to the bus stop, where we buy tickets to the Termini. The bus ride is unpleasant to the extreme, and I believe that if I had spent a minute longer inside, I would have suffocated to death. Rangit and Amit however, find the bus journey pleasant.<br />
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I haven’t had lunch and hence hungry (also to the extreme- it’s around 7.30 p.m), when I spot an Indian restaurant and exclaim loudly, “There’s an Indian restaurant here! Let’s go!” *Amit and Rangit’s comments for this will be a spoiler, and hence not included.* We walk in, and Rangit speaks Bengali with the Bangladeshi in the restaurant. One might think we’re taking a stroll on the streets of Kolkata, and have decided to stop for dinner.<br />
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I order a Vegetable Biryani (though the item doesn’t exist on their menu) and Rangit gets complimentary Dahi thanks to the common language. <br />
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Stomachs full, we walk out, calling thanks to the Bangladeshi for the good food. We reach our hotel, and the view from the window is Spectacular (with an S capital). We’ve gotten a hotel at a picturesque location at a price so reasonable ( the girl in the group is obviously delighted. Not that the guys are not, except they’re more conservative about expression). We speak to the owner if there is any time restriction for us coming back, and much to our delight, he says we might come and go as we please; we will have the keys to the main door, the keys to the door on our floor and the keys to our room (of course :P)<br />
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Strolling down the street, I cannot stop staring at the beautiful buildings adorning the streets; every turn I take gives me more eye candy, and it seems like the place is filled with unending candy! <br />
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Rome, as is said, was not built in a day.<br />
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Woot. Woot. Woot. :D<br />
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I now truly understand, why Rome, and not any other place on the planet, is said to have not been built in a day. The beauty of the place marvels you, and it has been a fortnight since I visited the place, but the aroma of the food tasted, the places visited remain etched in memory..<br />
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We return at 1:30 odd back to our floor, and try the key. It doesn’t work. The Chinese teacher has already taught Amit how to use the key, and she’s even made him try it. I’m too sleepy even to stand, so I just sit near the steps and wait for Amit to open the door. Second Attempt, No. Rangit takes the key and tries. Nope. I try. Nope. And then I remember the notice on the other side of the door: “Please do not lock the door from inside. Otherwise, the other people will knock on the door anytime, and you cannot sleep”.<br />
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Obviously, the lady/gentleman who has locked it cannot read English.<br />
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We now call the owner, and by the time he arrives, I have snoozed off.<br />
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I am awakened by loud shouts from the owner, “Hello? Please open the door! You have locked it from the inside”. No response.<br />
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3.30 am: I’m slightly aware of the happenings around.<br />
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The owner is almost screaming. “HELLO! I’M THE OWNER OF THE HOTEL! PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR”<br />
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I am worried. No alive soul can sleep with so much noise around. Or so I thought, until the next morning, when the hotel owner informs us that 6 people (all alive and seemingly normal) inhabited that floor and managed to sleep through all the noises we made! I still don’t believe it. <br />
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The next morning (afternoon rather), we set foot in Florence (Firenze) - a beautiful city, known as the heart of Renaissance and not for nothing. The city has the air of a bygone era, where horse carts pull the passengers (which totally reminds of the Kathryn of 1969- The Vampire Diaries) and yet does not seem to be backward in any case.<br />
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Preserving the look and feel of how cities might have been centuries ago , and yet being furnished with all facilities accustomed to the 21st century man, that’s what Firenze is all about.<br />
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Next on the list was a visit to Pisa. If you have never been drunk in life, you must visit the Pisa. You will know how anyone who’s sloshed feels, quite precisely. The tower leans 17cm every year, and the lean is actually felt once you enter, and that is just the beginning of the thrill.<br />
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Circumambulating around the tower (at the top) once was much more delightful (however scared I was, much to the amusement of the other two who claim to be brave souls… nah, just that they aren’t weightless like me :D) than the view from the top (remember? It leans!). <br />
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The visit to the Collosseum is like an orange juice extract of history, and if you haven’t opted for the guided tour (like us), you probably won’t appreciate it to it’s worth (unless you know all your facts before you get there). One of the present wonders, and definitely worth a visit. (But if you ever get there, take the guided tour!)<br />
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We visited an umpteen number of churches (all of which were beautiful in their own way), the private museum of Da Vinci (Woot), the Vatican City – the eponymous Sistine Chapel, Spanish steps, the Trevi Fountain and a beach over the next two days. And yes, we ate as much pizza and pasta as we could (which is a lot, believe me. Three humans, and one giant pizza. Humans and Giants, we are some match :D) After the 3 whole days- which went faster than we’d wanted- we did not want to return from the city that has so much to offer.<br />
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We boarded the flight to Dusseldorf (which is my temporary home), with the only consolation that we had tossed a coin over our left shoulders into the Fountain De Trevi- there is a saying that anyone who tosses a coin over their left shoulder into the Fountain De Trevi, shall return to Rome someday!</div>
Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-45584596426805981632012-09-03T15:39:00.003+05:302012-09-03T16:51:15.812+05:30Sailing a New Boat.. Germany!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<strong>Forget all the rules. Forget about being published. Write for yourself and celebrate writing</strong></div>
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So, here I am… Forgetting all rules, and forgetting about getting published.<br />
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Though I always write for myself (and there has been no exception to this rule), I don’t know about the ‘Celebrate Writing’ part. That, only the readers can tell- whether the writing brings out not just a part of myself, but also the joy or celebration in the action itself (perverted minds, concentrate :D)<br />
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Straight to topic, I have just read a few more pages of this world.<br />
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As I’m sure you didn’t get what I meant, some great person has quoted so: “The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page”.<br />
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Allow me to bask in a moment’s glory, before I revert to my normal down-to-earth self. :D<br />
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As I’m sure many of you know, the girl has always claimed to be a travel enthusiast, and though she has hardly seen a part of India, she always has claimed that given an opportunity, she’d pack her bags and be off, without a second thought. Let me introduce you to that girl, the very same owner of the blog, Sandhya Nagaraj, aka Me.<br />
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So, the girl who never traveled alone even from Bengaluru to Hyderabad, had to travel from Bengaluru to Dusseldorf, Germany, and not so surprisingly, the girl was scared right out of her wits about how to go about.<br />
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And so the days passed by. July 27th, 2012. The thought was, It’s ok, I have to travel on 31st July, there’s a looooott of time left. Somewhere in the corner of my brain, a tiny neuron lit up, saying, “31st July is 4 days away”. I successfully managed to bury that thought and went to sleep in peace.<br />
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29th July: I was officially freaking out, and I had no qualms in letting the world know about it. Traveling alone to Germany, transit at Dubai, are you kidding me?! What girl in her right mind would agree to travel alone, even when her manager had asked repeatedly if she had any issues traveling alone? Me, apparently. I know I’m 22, and I must be completely capable of traveling alone and all that, but that was the very first time, and I do believe I get some consideration for that.<br />
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31st July came in no time, and I was at the airport, with mixed feelings. I tried to be extreme rational instead of becoming emotional, because once I get emotional, I’m gone and I wreck everything that comes my way. So I check in with a cool head and board the flight, one cute steward offered me vodka with orange juice, which I politely denied. (I don’t know my alcohol threshold, and I have no intentions of testing it on my first lone travel in air- I’m sure you empathize!) The steward looked at me in surprise, (I guess no one rejects a drink from him) I smiled stupidly; he nodded in understanding and walked away.<br />
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I had my meal – Rajma, Roti and Rice- I was totally surprised that they serve authentic Indian food (I expected Bread and Cheese when I opted for the vegetarian meal). I’d hardly finished my orange juice (just the orange juice, yeah), and we landed in Dubai. I was thrilled! Whoever said that traveling alone was difficult?<br />
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There was a waiting time of about an hour and a half (approx) which was welcome, and then a 7-9 hr flight to Dusseldorf.<br />
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And I was a little worried, because I don’t particularly enjoy the feeling of being in air. I don’t get sick, but that doesn’t mean I like it.<br />
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I was hoping I’d be able to distract myself… I found myself seated beside a German family (the father and mother were beside me, their son and daughter right behind). He told me that they were returning from a trip to Thailand, which they really enjoyed. I smiled and spoke a bit, all the while trying to find something to keep me distracted… and Voila!<br />
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I was browsing through the movie and soap collection the flight had, and found Big Bang Theory, Two and a Half Men, and over a dozen comedy soaps, and that was exactly the kind of distraction I was looking for!<br />
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Time flew by, the flight was not as smooth as the one from Bengaluru to Dubai- but we were soon at Dusseldorf airport, and none the happier than me.<br />
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Now, you see, I had 30kg of luggage, and a cabin bag apart from the company laptop, and I thought it’d be pretty easy to just pull the two bags, while carrying the cabin and laptop bags. What was I thinking, really?<br />
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I struggled to reach the taxi port (which was just a few yards away), and was none the gladder when I got into the cab. <br />
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The accommodation blew me away. No, I don’t live in a 5-star with spa and gym facilities- like how <a href="http://www.facebook.com/sannan1989">Sunny</a> does- but a 3-star with kitchen facilities and an hour’s worth free Wifi :P and a girl like me is happy with this much. Easy to please, eh? :D<br />
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The places I’ve seen, the food I’ve tasted, the people I’ve met and the things I’ve done.. All in the next post, and I promise, the quality will be better than this one.<br />
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I welcome your comments, be it on my writing, or the topic itself!<br />
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Peace!<br />
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P.S: It's when you care about something that the best in you comes out, because otherwise, there's no reason to bring out your best. I know this is not my best piece of writing, but something I checked this morning, gave me that drive to write. And that something I checked, is called <a href="http://www.iuquotes.com/">IUquotes</a>. The fact that the site is designed by a <a href="http://www.facebook.com/ShrutiSBalasa">Friend</a> was all the more the reason, considering I'm miles away. Even small things like reading a quote from a site designed by a friend makes me become emotional, well er, I'm human, too.<br />
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Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-34644173148382731542012-06-30T14:58:00.002+05:302012-06-30T14:58:33.563+05:30A Year Since.. Performance Evaluation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">June 30<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>,2012.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s been a year since I joined Huawei, and I look back at
the year-gone-by, and as is tradition, see how different I am today from
30/06/2011. Progress reports were misleading in the sense we only needed to
track our academic performance, and the time has come when no one’s going to
hand me over a report card measuring pure academic performance. The time has
come when I need to make my own assessment, and see where I stand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I see what I’ve done, what I’ve let pass, how I have spent
my time, the challenges faced, the defeated battles, the wars won, the maturity
attained, the (disastrous number of) books read, the people I’ve met, the tits
and bits I’ve learnt and what I’ve become, overall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And what I see, not so surprisingly, is a changed person.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The old me wouldn’t have thought of investments (I used to
dislike financial management, and now have to terms with the fact that money
will slip through your fingers, if you aren’t careful), wouldn’t have thought
of contributions to society. I definitely wouldn’t have thought of extracting
outputs from the few talents that I have been gifted with, and a few others I
have painfully developed and many other perceptions have changed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was rather disappointed yesterday, that I cannot measure
to perfection, the amount I have learnt and the skills I have acquired over the
last year. *Which is when a delightful idea struck me*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have hence decided to maintain a daily activity report
which will later be plotted as a graph of things done over the year, to show me
my standing precisely, which can be compared to the previous year, year after
year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The only downside to this idea is I must take a few minutes
out every day and dutifully fill up the report, which is a little difficult for
me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But as long as I remember the reason I’m doing this, I guess
the motivation will last, and next year this time, I will be a more content
person, with accurate data staring at me in the face. Such joy. :D<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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And I quite on purpose, have not covered how office has been over the past year, I think that deserves a separate post, as that isn't about performance evaluation.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Here’s to another beginning of sorts, to what this year sees
me through!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My fella batch mates, seniors, juniors.. Good year to ya'all :)</span><br />
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</div>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-40381855711218945662012-01-27T23:16:00.001+05:302012-01-28T22:07:18.197+05:30Damon Demystified.I got my hands on (the much talked about) Vampire Diaries yesterday. Was curious to know what the hype was all about- around the Damon Salvatore guy- I was in total judging mode when I sat down to check S01E01. So the guy who plays Matt Damon appeals to most people, and as the discerning reader has already guessed, I am not 'most people'. I'm not saying I can't care less about Damon on screen. His character is interesting enough, compelling me to see if he has a soul or if he is nothing but a hot looking cold blooded monster. (Cold blooded seems so fitting a description, pardon the pun!) Stefan -the younger brother- on the other hand, is a completely different story. I ain't objective about him, and I'm still trying to figure out if I am rooting for the good guy here. (Coz I think I must've hated Snape at one point of time or the other, but I didnt hate him when he killed Dumbledore. I dont conclude till the author / scriptwriter concludes a story.)<br /> <br />But I must say, however objective I am about things, Vampire Diaries is interesting enough to make me want to get back and watch more, which is what I did today, after work.<br /><br />Three hours later, my respect for Damon (and the scriptwriter) has grown, and now there's nothing to dislike about Damon. The cold bloodedness of the charatcter, the (over)acting skills of the actor (which Krupa soo dislikes :P), the arrogance of the character, the extreme fake smile of the actor- I love all of that! 8 hours earlier, at office, I was almost clapping my hands in glee that I would finally be slaying Damon on my blog (much to the bemusement of most friends), but that sadly, was not to be.Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-80926799141684583332011-12-28T00:21:00.001+05:302011-12-28T00:37:07.690+05:30Inspiration UnlimitedIt's been long friends I wanted to share with you all, about our Venture and platform Inspiration Unlimited. Just covering this write up about the same.<br /><br />Inspiration Unlimited is a vision, founded as an answer to the present scenario in the world. The need for training is higher than ever in every manner. Values have to be restored. This time the felicitous process is hammering. The values need to be hammered into masses & potentials incarcerated inside need to be brought out. The masses stand in need of training in some or the other form, right from school level to the level of CEOs.<br /><br />As is rightly said, Any & every form of success has its root in training and then success stems from execution. IU believes in passing the right training in every arena of life, from personal development, to mental abilities, to staff training, to self motivation, to leadership, to sales training, to art of relationships, to training for teachers, to better parenting & lots more.<br /><br />IU is backed up by the founder's profound experience of dealing with people from different occupation, places, age groups & different intellect levels. People eulogize his training & the kind of change it brings about in the participants. He has a spark in his speech that can bring a dead man alive. He has a practical approach & is not a speaker or trainer who has emerged from mere reading of a few books, as you find many such individuals in the market today.<br /><br />Our vision is to empower masses to follow their heart & experience life of full potential. We envision to help everyone live, not just exist. We also believe in seeing a better world with human race in greater levels of harmony by converting peer pressure into peer pleasure.<br /><br />We have forayed into hand-made greetings under the banner of Aaslesha. All details are available on the following web links.<br /><br />To avoid confusions and so that you are able to reach us right here are some links on web:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.iuindia.com">www.iuindia.com</a><br /><a href="http://www.facebook.com/iuindia">www.facebook.com/iuindia</a><br /><a href="http://www.twitter.com/iuworldwide">www.twitter.com/iuworldwide</a><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/iuindiaonline">www.youtube.com/iuindiaonline</a><br /><br />Our magazine links:<br /><a href="http://www.twitter.com/iuemagofficial">www.twitter.com/iuemagofficial</a><br /><br />Our Social Initiatives (each one would be covered in other blogs):<br /><a href="http://www.facebook.com/iuy2c">www.facebook.com/iuy2c</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.facebook.com/iunewspaperbag">www.facebook.com/iunewspaperbag</a><br /><br />To join us as a speaker or marketing executives from your city, district, state or country. Mail us at iuworldwide@gmail.com and we shall take things further!<br /><br />Thank you. Hope it helps all those who wanted to know more about about IU.Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-54085931258363187212011-12-02T18:15:00.001+05:302011-12-02T18:16:43.948+05:30The Niagara Falls, The Smurfs, The Portal...<p>The picture of Niagara falls in the head.. speaks a thousand words. Since drawing a picture is out of question, ( the strained efforts I will put in drawing will be equivalent to a helpless girl grappling against the mighty storm) I choose to deliver a thousand words instead.</p> <p>I have always wanted to visit the Niagara (thanks to a Social Science teacher who'd traveled the world)- to take a ride in the Maid of the Mist- and the strength of the desire intensified when I watched The Smurfs the other day. </p> <p>My wishlist is becoming a bucket list these days, really. Just the idea of ticking off each one is sufficient to get the adrenaline rushing.. ah, I digress.</p> <p>So coming back, The Smurfs, those cute blue mythical creatures- who I wish really existed- who travel from their world to ours through a portal on a blue moon day, bring luck to the family which shelters them. The ending is cute- really no other word for it- and the Smurfs are so endearing. I don't like pets, but I still like the Smurfs. They don't exist, right? That's probably why.</p> <p>The realistic engineer and the crazy fastasy lover in me are at war with each other, one laughing away at the idea of mythical creatures, and another being drawn to the endearing lot, their ways, their world..</p> I want the blue moon to come one day, I want the Smurfs to be real, I want the portal between worlds to exist- be it at a waterfall, or a blackhole- I want all of this! And I want the engineer in me to find a way to make all this happen, so that the engineer and the fantasical girl both are happy, because they're an integral part of me, they make me <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span>..Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-67395774328163865422011-11-28T09:04:00.003+05:302011-11-28T23:24:06.276+05:30Your Big Year!When somebody I know and respect has reached the 111th position in the "Your Big Year"(YBY) contest from India, him being the only Indian to reach that position, I can't help but post about it.<div><br /></div><div>The aforementioned senior, is the 24 yr old One Young World Ambassador from India, Mr. Sujit Lalwani, also the founder of <a href="http://www.36meals.com/">36 meals.com</a>, IU Y2C campaign etc. The reason I'm posting this is because I'm taken by the concept of Your Big Year, which is a 'Smaller Earth' initiative. Chris Arnold is the man behind this, and what he has to say about entrepreneurship and global citizenship is indeed commendable.</div><div><br /></div><div>Since young I have believed that being a citizen of a country is ok, but every human being must be a citizen of the world. Global citizenship must be promoted, and this is precisely where Chris Arnold strikes a chord with me.</div><div><br /></div><div>The top 12 finalists are to compete against each other in the month of March/ April in Liverpool, and the tasks that await them will put their grey matter to test, to say the least. The winner indeed will have his Big Year, what with getting to travel across 5 continents, working on projects across the globe, meeting prominent people in the fields of business, politics et al.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><a href="http://sujitlalwani.blogspot.com/2011/11/this-blog-is-dedicated-to-brilliant.html">This</a></b> is the brief-up on YBY, my words probably wouldn't have done as much justice.</div><div><br /></div><div>Winning this is no mean feat, but nothing a fellow Indian can't achieve, I believe.</div><div>Here's wishing luck and success to this fellow Indian, who's been a great guide so far. We have our fingers crossed, and we know you have Felix Felicis :)</div>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-59388488733796918532011-11-15T21:49:00.003+05:302011-11-15T23:16:08.601+05:30Too much ado.. though it isn't about Nothing.Hello Folks!<div><br /></div><div>Time and again I vanish from the blogosphere, only to be pulled back by the delicate strings that tie me to this place. It's been ages since I've written that post on Huawei (3 months, to be precise), and a lot many friends have asked when the next post was coming. I don't know why I didn't post so long, but this is like the last piece of Chocolate that remains after sharing the choc with friends- you will definitely want to eat it. I opened my blog for some reason, couldn't go away without putting this up.</div><div><br /></div><div>And while I've been away, significant things have happened.</div><div><br /></div><div>Huawei has again been a mixture of fun and boredom- funny how almost everything in my life is like this- and while we've learnt some essential things, we've had more than our share of free time. And this is not one of the significant things that happened. Randy Pausch talks about why it's important to concentrate on the elephant in the room.. it seems like I have a soft spot for the rabbit. :P </div><div><br /></div><div>Well, now before the elephant is angered.. :P</div><div><br /></div><div>One, devastating news: We have no Jobs anymore. Steve Jobs, right.</div><div>Two, fantastic news: I got to be Supporting Editor-in-Chief of an e-newsletter, called <a href="http://www.iuindia.com">IUNL</a>.(Inspiration Unlimited Newsletter).</div><div>Three, the best so far: The launch of the aforementioned newsletter is happening on 20.11.2011. (This features as awesome to me, even after I've posted this on FB at 11pm some day-after most ppl have logged off-and repeat exclamations to friends who're around me!).</div><div>Four: This is like, THE elephant. I'm not too comfortable with elephants.. err.. I still have some editing left. (And I'm an engineer. Last minute work? Give it to us).</div><div>Five:I'd almost forgotten, 3 articles of mine got published on Bitannica, it did make me happy. </div><div><br /></div><div>So whats the icing on the cake? My decision making skills. 7.25 am on the morning of the CAT, I decide to give the exam. Reason? 1500 INR is too much to waste. Eight hours ago when I was pondering if I should give the exam or not-given that I'd go with zero preparation this time-I couldn't make a decision, one way or the other. I didn't even toss a coin- then again I never make decisions by flipping a coin-I simply went to bed. Only in the morning did it hit me that I'd be wasting money.. I'm still proud of the fact that I reached the venue at 8:45, given that I got my admit card printed on the way to the venue. </div><div><br /></div><div>But the CAT is over, and the launch is not. And now I really get what <a href="http://www.aadisht.net/blog">Aadisht</a> means when he says he'll come back to post when he gets time! Aadisht btw, is one amazing blogger/ Yahoo! columnist, check out his blog. And yes, I'm giving free publicity to him, only because he's awesome.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are like 11 topics which I have on mind- they were occupying too much space on mind, so shifted them to paper- I'll post them one by one, as and when time permits. This post almost was like breaking the ice, again. Both Time and Water, when frozen, create ice :P And time, which was a commodity we engineering students had in abundance- now has become so scarce. Sigh. Such is life.</div><div><br /></div>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-56903078855154193242011-08-21T14:01:00.003+05:302011-08-21T14:21:01.464+05:30Arbit.I know I'm joblessly importing the posts I'd put up on a website when I was interning with them to the blog here, and quite a few of you might be frustrated by the fact that you've already read those posts before, on the other site. Sorry for that, I'm just putting together everything under one roof, don't ask me why.<div>
<br /></div><div>The routineness of the job kicked in this week, and me being the type who cannot and will not be bogged down by a routine life, have taken up some interesting- though offbeat- threads, which I hope to convert into something big. *Fingers crossed*</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Also, though N and I work for the same company and get to talk to her on the intranet, I haven't seen her in ages. Imagine that.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>There are loads of things running on my mind,</div><div>Looking back I see what I've left behind;</div><div>Judge not this post, do be kind,</div><div>Come back tomorrow, you'll see a post- refined!</div><div>
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<br /></div>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-2259878756988247892011-08-21T13:59:00.000+05:302011-08-21T14:01:14.249+05:30McDonalds: The True Story. ( Again porting my writing from elsewhere to the blog)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">What does the most famous malls and shopping complexes have in common apart from the fact that they’re the most flocked places in India?</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">You go shopping-for clothes, footwear, accessories, household items, gifts, you’re inevitably hungry at the end of it. Hell, you go window shopping with friends, you see a place where you can relax and down some fast food which also happens to be light on the pocket. What am I driving at?</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><em style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">McDonalds</em>. Yes.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">You (and I) are more likely to walk in, than not. Which is what McDonalds is really all about.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">McDonalds founder, <em style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">Ray Kroc</em> once walked into a class of students at Harvard and asked them what they thought McDonalds was about.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">Burgers, they said.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">And he asked the million dollar question: “ How many of you can prepare better burgers than the ones made at McDonalds?” Several hands shot up in the air.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">He then told the class that burgers weren’t the deal, because obviously, there were so many people better at that. Infact, food itself didn’t qualify as the topmost priority. And then he shared his million dollar idea.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">That McDonalds wasn’t really about burgers, it was about <strong style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">‘Real Estate’</strong>. Did I hear that right? Well yeah, you did.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">McDonalds is about real estate.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">It’s just about places. How amazing is that, right? You just put up outlets of McDonalds at places where your target market is, and Bingo!, you’re on your way to get those million dollars. The talent was in choosing those magical ‘places’.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">Real estate isn’t the only factor which made McDonalds what it is today, but that was the core factor. Add to that a list of 4 to 5 ingrediants, you have the cake ready.</p><ol style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 19px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: decimal; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "><li style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 3px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 3px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "><em style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "><strong style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">Vision</strong></em>: A vision with clarity, is a vision to reality. Ray Kroc saw it in the form of his brother’s hamburger drive-in in San Bernardino. He wanted to own a standardized chain of fast-food eateries right across the world. 25,000 is a number, isn’t it?</li><li style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 3px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 3px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "><em style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "><strong style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">Agreeable to differences</strong></em>: Ray Kroc knew that you need a manager, who’ll hold it stable for you; and a frontrunner, who’ll go all out doing the front man job. His boldest move in this area was his hiring of Harry Sonneborn as his finance manager in 1956. As different as night and day, Kroc and Sonneborn formed a remarkable team. Where Sonneborn was taciturn and detail-driven, Kroc was outgoing and visionary. But without Sonneborn, McDonald’s would never have survived.</li><li style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 3px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 3px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "><em style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "><strong style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">Flexibility</strong></em>: An entrepreneur who invested everything he had at 52, Ray Kroc was a flexible man. New products like Big Mac and Egg McMuffin emerged from operators; Kroc’s attempts at new products—the Hula Burger and a strawberry dessert, to name two—were abject failures. Kroc didn’t discriminate the origin of those ideas.That’s leadership.</li><li style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 3px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 3px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "><em style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "><strong style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">Mentoring: </strong><span style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-style: normal; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">The s</span></em>alesman that he was, Ray Kroc had a hawk’s eye for talent. He found Fred Turner, the organizational mind behind the McDonald’s operating system, from the ranks of potential operators. Kroc nurtured Turner as he did others; and in the process, built his business by selecting the right people at the right time.</li></ol><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><em style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">It is said that he would arbitrarily fire staff who erred in minor ways sometimes, and the executives wouldn’t carry it out. Knowing him all too well. The incident would be forgotten in a few days.</em></p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><em style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; "></em>Charity begins at home: After becoming a millionaire, he established a foundation to support his charitable efforts. The Ronald McDonald House, which provides housing for relatives of children undergoing lengthy hospital stays, is one such example.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">Optimism and excellent mentorship no doubt proved to be the key, in addition to everything mentioned above. And the rest, as they say, is history. The tagline has another story in itself, but let’s reserve that for some other time! I’m lovin’ it! <em style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; ">Bade se bada business paise se nahi — ek bade idea se bada hota hai</em>. True, that!</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><em style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">References: <a href="http://www.lc21.com/directions/thoughts1.html" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: none; ">http://www.lc21.com/directions/thoughts1.html</a> and<a href="http://businessleadershipadvice.com/archives/2008_10_01_archive.html" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: none; ">http://businessleadershipadvice.com/archives/2008_10</a><a href="http://businessleadershipadvice.com/archives/2008_10_01_archive.html" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: none; color: rgb(0, 122, 201); ">_01_archive.html</a></em></p></span>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-69620060180395377572011-08-21T13:36:00.003+05:302011-08-21T13:58:28.743+05:30Everything Comes At A Price. Even Happiness... ( Porting from a website where I'd published it a few months ago, to the blog)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">The weather was warm, the coffee exactly the way he wanted it, but this was not what Nick had expected. He had not expected someone of that age to come and meet him in person. And he certainly hadn’t had the slightest idea why the man wouldn’t just speak out the terms. He had insisted on Jason reading the letter, and walked away, not even staying long enough to finish the coffee. When Nick opened the letter, the contents of the letter and the handwriting had no connection, it seemed, because only an angelic hand could’ve scripted the words in the way they were, but the content, the content! He had to make a decision. And, he made one.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">Walking away was not a choice he could make, simply because this was about his daughter. When somebody was offering what he could not afford, he wasn’t going to turn it down, even after knowing the price he had to pay. He knew that everything comes at a cost.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">Kendra, a devout Catholic, had her hands joined in prayer. The old man in the last row watched her silently. He’d been a witness to her grief, and he knew what had to be done. For him, it was a simple transaction- he had a problem, and so did she, and now, they were going to be each other’s solution. But of course, she wouldn’t know that. A frail and emotional mother would not understand that everything comes at a cost.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">Coffee mug in hand, lost in thought, Jason didn’t look anything like the responsible elder brother that he actually was. The nice part was, he didn’t take life too seriously, which was just as well. The doorbell rang, and he went to answer the door. He was surprised to find his father standing there, his shoulders weary. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had done that. Not one day in those twenty years of his work.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">Nick walked in, and pulled his son by the shoulders. Looked long into his eyes, and then gave him that letter. Jason didn’t understand why, but he didn’t speak a word, because he knew his father wouldn’t listen. He looked like a man on a mission, and nobody could stop him. Jason tried hard not to show the tears as he bid goodbye to his father. It seems, he’d just learned, everything comes at a cost.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">Sandra slowly opened her eyes… Now, she could feel the light hitting her eye, and it hurt. But they’d promised her that this would be her last visit. They’d told her that they’d found a match and she’d be getting a bone marrow transplant.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">Sandra was 12 years old, a thin, frail-looking girl, and hardly knew her father. The only people in her life were Kendra and Jason. Nick would come home to find Sandra sleeping, and his work demanded that he leave before Sandra woke up. She hated the fact that she had to visit the hospital every fifteen days, hated it that her blood had to be transfused every 15 days, hated the pain it would put her through. She knew it was because of her bone marrow-or the absence of it, but she hoped one day she too would be cured just like her brother. But despite her ill health, she mingled well with classmates, had a positive outlook to life and believed in God. Many students in class didn’t even know of her condition, they thought she was frail because she hardly ate anything. But those who knew her held deep respect for her in their hearts. On the outside, she was just another 6th standard kid, who had trouble with her weight.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">And today, her wish of having a successful bone marrow transplant was fulfilled.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">The time had come.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">One- Jason broke the news to his mother, and she broke down. Not that she was very young, but that she had an untouched innocence about her, which was shattered today. It would be months before she smiled again.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">Two- Nick walked towards the sacred palace-Pope’s residence. He’d travelled a long way from Rome to arrive at the holy city- yes, Jerusalem. He could not stop if he wanted to, so he marched right on, with only one thought-God loves the sinners. He didn’t have to do nothing, except be physically present anywhere around 100 yards of the Papal residence. His belt of course contained the timed bomb. 2 minutes left. He sat there with a calm composure, knowing his daughter would be well. He’d seen that the bone marrow was a perfect match. The results were all there in that letter he’d first received. 30 seconds… Peace.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">And the explosion took everything in and around 500 yards.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">Sandra, oblivious to everything, was just happy. She thanked the Jesus that her mother had taught her to believe in and drifted back to sleep. She of course, had a lot of time before she learnt that everything comes at a cost.</p><p style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; font-size: 13px; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; ">PS: All you guys might have already read this post, but I'm just getting all posts under one roof. So, bear with me!</p></span>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-84376321254096572872011-08-03T22:24:00.008+05:302011-08-09T07:09:45.999+05:30Of Phoenix Tears and Unicorn Blood..<div>8th std, 1st hour, Math class: I forget to take my Math notes to class. A very senior,quite strict teacher handling Math. She walks in, and I'm almost ready to walk out.(Read as get thrown out).</div><div>Before she begins the routine of asking students without notes to walk out, I go up and tell her I don't have my notes, and that I'm extremely sorry. She says it's ok! Get it tomorrow.I'm thinking, "Did I hear that right?".. I go back to my seat, and I'm not happy that she hasn't punished me.. I feel downright miserable.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>8th std, Chemistry, 1st test results day: Tr.Alfonsa, calls my name, and says, Sandhya, 17/17. I'm not in the least amused by her announcement, I'm infact beduffled. I know she's given me marks by mistake, coz I already know my mistakes in that paper. I take my paper silently and walk back. After she has finished distributing all the papers,I go back to her, and tell her in the most pathetic of tones, that she's given me one and a half marks where I don't deserve it. I've made a mistake, she has't noticed it.She smiles at me and says, "It's ok. Keep it". I'm thinking Why!, but I surely can't argue with her, so I go back, a little happy, obviously to the bemusement of many classmates.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Fast forward, 2nd year engineering: The Master Profiler, two others- one of them who is really good, and me. CCD, Ashoka Pillar. Tropical Iceberg, only offered</div><div>to me. I wonder if I deserve it, because I sure don't think I do. An interesting discussion, which only the four know, and will remember. Atleast I remember, till date. A promise made, which would soon be broken.(Not explained at length, coz all you need to know here is that a promise was made, which wouldn't be lived upto).</div><div>
<br /></div><div>These instances aren't randomly picked. They're chosen very carefully like pieces of art for a personal museum.Wish I could explain better. Sigh.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>As the discerning reader might have already guessed, I wasn't(yes, wasn't-in the past tense) the most forgiving person, and the last person I would forgive was myself.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>This realisation came about solely because of the best friend, and it was a very striking realisation at that.Ever since I realised that,it was a daily battle to forgive myself for all the mistakes that had happened, be it tiny ones like not taking a book to class,or big ones like not</div><div>accepting the fact that others could forgive me.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>The Phoenix had been reduced to ashes, only to realize it would be reborn again.. coz yes, a Phoenix never dies, it is simply reborn.. And Phoenix tears heal the most fatal of wounds, and unicorn blood makes you immortal.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>4th year engineering: The Master Profiler, The Best Friend and I. Freedom Park. Breezy weather. A discussion. A day when I was offered help to win the </div><div>battle, to ensure that the Phoenix rises faster. But some battles have to be fought alone, coz if you don't live through the storm, you'll never find</div><div>the afterward calm.So I remained impassive, having only a will to battle the storm, and to see if I make it to the calm!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>A whole semester later, the battle was won;</div><div>But without the friend, it wouldn't have been done;</div><div>Not with the moon, not even the sun;</div><div>Coz sometimes all you need, is just that one!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Sounds cryptic to the common eye? Well that's the intention, my friend! *A wicked grin* </div><div>
<br /></div><div>As I stand at another crossroad today,</div><div>to anyone who asks who I am.. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>I'm as shallow as a stream,and as deep as an ocean..</div><div>As sane as the sage and as mad as the poet, </div><div>As calm as the sea, as raged as the storm;</div><div>I'm as black as Lucifer, as white as Gabriel..</div><div>
<br /></div><div>The question my friend, is not who I am..</div><div>The question,is who you think I am.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Hope and despair,</div><div>Day and Night,</div><div>Silence and Words,</div><div>Virtues and Sins,</div><div>The Saint and the Sinner;</div><div>Death and Life,</div><div>Fire and Ice;</div><div>Everything becomes me,</div><div>Coz I'm everything, and yet I'm nothing,</div><div>for what you see in me,</div><div>shows me who you are..</div><div>
<br /></div><div>But what happens when a Novice Profiler meets a Master Profiler??</div><div>The answer, I believe, is nothing short of Magic!!</div><div>
<br /></div><div><div>Whether you believe in Magic-or not, doesn't really matter, because a Phoenix is still a Phoenix, and you-and I, are a notch above that.</div></div>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-90673273883858210642011-07-28T19:43:00.006+05:302011-07-30T11:41:08.601+05:30The Many Firsts in the Last Month!<span class="Apple-style-span">First month of the First Job..One month into the job... and I'm taking every day by the minute, and what follows is a description of everything I've wanted to put here right from June 30th.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"> an attempt to merge three posts into one.. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div>First things first, Huawei hasn't lived up to expectations. Really.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was expecting a chilled first week, followed by getting into the groove of working a lot and going home real late and not having enough time for fun. What else could I have expected, with everyone around giving such rave reviews about the work culture?</div><div><br /></div><div>Who is to be blamed, that I didn't get what I expected? I for one, ain't complaining. Coz I got instead, one week of Induction-which I will admit was quite boring-though essential. Also got about 2 weeks of a mini-project, through which they ensured we learned the process.(Seniors didn't have this I heard) I give a wholehearted approval to the technique they used.. practical as against the much used theoretical sessions.. We did learn quite a bit, and it didn't seem like too much effort was going into learning, coz we were having fun all the while.. a few instances:</div><div><br /></div><div>The mini-project: The process was fun, and I unfortunately can't quote many things.. IS policy. Below however, are some things that I can share. First, the evaluators (for want of a better word).Some were ever smiling, and some, ever sarcastic- but we liked them all :) At the end of the day, they helped us through, and taught us things, and we're always going to remember them as the first few seniors we met at Huawei, and respect them for what they are. Now the project..All ten of us had books to our own names, some of which were in great demand :P Some meetings didn't happen, some extra long breaks were taken, some reports weren't filled, some rules were broken, and some laughter shared.. We were a good team, and sometimes evaluations went haywire coz of er.. the coordination between the developers and the testers. (Teammates, hear me? :)) We did what was to be done, in our own way, while we still could :P (Obviously, later on, our 'own' ways will not necessarily be allowed :)). That's that. Project team, cheers!</div><div><br /></div><div>The lunch hours: Amrita and Chaitra take the cake for all the misinterpretations, Niki being at the receiving end of some Chai special commentry (N, I'm not saying more coz of the IS policy :P), some inane conversations-at Srinidhi Sagar and also Room 7- with Niki. </div><div>N: Have you had juice here? </div><div>S: No. </div><div>N: How is it? </div><div>S: Really?!!</div><div>And this is just one of them..</div><div>N always claims that she's lost when such things happen.. Lost. :)</div><div><br /></div><div>Flashback: Induction. First day- awed by Leela. A few introductions, and a whole lot of paperwork. Followed by my allegiance with Citi. The next few days that followed mainly had presentations, and the evenings were solely spent exploring various traveling options, and at the end of one month, be it about the city layout structure or the road designs or new vehicle designs for that matter, we have discussed it all.</div><div><br /></div><div>One Merc Benz employee in the bus the other day, told us that we can't be that happy in life once we start working, and we will be tethered to chains of grumpiness and sorrow( ok he didn't say the later part, but u get the point). I was surprised. I still don't know if ppl have this misconception that once you start working, you almost stop living; or if that is actually true. I'll anyway tell you when I figure it out. Ah, I digress.. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyways, back to what I was supposed to say.. yesterday our PCs were configured, and Shikha, Suma, Rama and I couldn't have been happier. I also did meet my team finally( whatever was left of my team anyway!- most seniors of my team aren't here, hence the statement). </div><div><br /></div><div>And then there were Pizza hut outings, both on fridays-one a fortnight ago, and one ystr. was fun both times, and I remember yesterday more clearly than the 15days-ago-visit, when road-crossing had us in splits of laughter, and the kid there got an awesome We-will-rock-you themed birthday song from the Pizza Hut employees! What was common in both the visits were good food and company. At the end of the day we concluded, Citi, ICICI and Stan Chatered were all fine banks- they do their job just fine, coz along with the pay cheque came the thought, there are some things money can buy :)</div><div><br /></div><div>Another month of training seems to be underway, but their training is quite different, and I look forward to it.A day might come when the first line of the blog reads "My job finally meets expectations-I'm almost living at my workplace". But whether this happens in a day, or a week, or a month, or a year or two, only time will tell.</div><div><br /></div><div>P.S: My take at the timings of the job and all is just my sense of humor. It's like a pinch of salt, and for those of you who need it, I recommend water. Whether a sip, or a whole bottle, or a bucket full, depends on you!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><br /></div>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-8114040843050830342011-06-24T17:48:00.001+05:302011-06-24T18:11:19.258+05:30This thing called Engineering..<div style="text-align: justify;"><p class="MsoNormal">On one side, there are students who love Math but dislike Biology right from high school-they just can’t get those Respiratory and Digestive systems right in the record, and they’ve decided already that their career will have nothing to do with Biology-well yes, like me. Not one teeny weeny bit. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Then there are the others, who want to know how a Harley Davidson works, or how to construct a Burj Al Arab or an Empire State building-why some might even be inspired by Howard Roark-Fountainhead, yeah! And a few others who want to fly planes, or bring out the next best phone into the market, or some such thing!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So what happens to all these kids?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Engineering happens. What else!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Fast forward to post counseling.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sep 2007: Students are present at the quadrangle, BIT, and I think it was a Mr. Abhishek Subramanyam who was chief guest that day. An IIT grad, who spoke about his engineering life mainly, which was enough to inspire us all- bigtime!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Telecom students headed to 314-I think, and HOD came up to class, and spoke at length about what telecom was about, and what we could expect from the course, and what was expected of us etc. He then wished us luck and walked out.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Engineering had begun.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sep 2010: We weren’t <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>the naïve freshers anymore. VTU teaches important lessons, right?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Oh don’t give that smug expression! We’re better off learning those lessons than not. Agree? Hi-five! Disagree? Well, a matter of perception. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">So, ‘twas 3<sup>rd</sup> year, and the sweatshirt rage had just caught on. All my fellow classmates, I’m sure you remember all too clearly as to how ‘keen’ we were on getting it done :P</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Thanks to a few students who took genuine interest, the designs came up, and the selection was made. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now, we were in the midst of the ocean of engineering, and we understood all too well the importance of BSCs and Antennas for communication.. So, what better than a tower with a transmitting antenna representing the ‘T’? Nothing was better, or so we thought.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A dish antenna for ‘E’.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sometimes all the efforts you put on one thing gives you 100% results, sometimes you just remember a fraction of what you’ve studied in the exams, and well though it doesn’t technically happen, I’m just gonna take a hypothetical situation where somebody blanks out completely in the exam hall. So that s like, complete output no insertion loss, and the fraction what you remember, well, the coupling ratio, and the blanking out? Yeah-isolation! Why all this, you ask? How else am I supposed to bring in the directional coupler we’ve used in our design? <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So a vertically placed Directional Coupler made for the ‘L’.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A landline phone receiver became the ‘C’- I suspect this has no particular significance except for the fact that it was a phone and we’re telecom students. Well, if you’re a telecom student and you know the actual origin, insert it here. For all you other-unsuspecting-guys, buy my story. It at least sounds plausible!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Then comes the ‘O’. And you know, being telecom engineers, connecting the world globally is the main aim. So, Globe/ Earth. Right.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Last, but not the least, ‘M’-Obviously, the mobile phone. Telecom students needn’t go beyond that, so the grey cells weren’t used even a little for this one.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">That’s the sweatshirt part.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Here’s to the lectures-I have to mention DSP and Prof NCA here!-which taught us a good deal of the course subject, and a great deal more about life in general, to the last minute record work- I confess, we never learnt to do it beforehand!-and the labs, to the bunking and the fests (this is for all those who attended and so had fun, and those who didn’t attend and ‘so’ had fun :P), to the canteen food savoring- I know you’re thinking, really, ‘savor’? Savor, yes, for lack of a better word.. and to the assignment submissions, internals and of course the end sem exams- VTU taught us a great deal about probability with those question papers-like, the probability of you predicting the probability of a question appearing is almost zero. So why bother!-and a zillion other things. Here’s to some of the achievements we’ve had, to some of the regrets of our doings-or not, to the lessons we’ve learnt and memories we’ve shared.. Cheers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">June 2011: The final semester has ended, and we look back with a mixture of emotions-some good, some bad and some downright inexplicable. Standing at the crossroads of life today, we see where we stood four years ago, a crossroad all too similar, yet so different.. Crossroads are going to be found at frequent bends on the road henceforth, and every crossroad is an unknown path, an adventure perhaps, or the road to hell, but only time will tell! </p> <p class="MsoNormal">But be forewarned, there is only one road to heaven, and nine to hell!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Stay Connected \m/</p> <p class="MsoNormal">-Sandhya.N</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Telecom, BIT(submitted for review for Britannica- if that's what it's still called)</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p></div>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-24407041879860917722011-04-30T08:03:00.006+05:302011-05-10T23:19:09.098+05:30C'est la vie.So there was drought. On my blog, of course. 8th semester was a beginning of the ending, and we welcomed it with open arms. I did, at least. And here I am, not feeling all that emotional about leaving college. So whats the big deal, you ask? Well then, you obviously don't know me. <div><br /></div><div>I'm the girl who loved high school so much that when it came to an end, I was miserable. The same girl who absolutely hated that I wouldn't have DVN sir teaching me any longer, though I only attended his tuitions in 10th. The very same girl who, after 2 years at BASE, found it very difficult to face the cold reality that all those dear friends with whom I'd had an awesome time wouldn't study in the same college as me. And I didn't stop to think for a minute that I'd be any different at the end of 4 years. </div><div><br /></div><div>Obviously, there has to be irony. There is no story if there is no irony. Ironic, that!</div><div><br /></div><div>So as the discerning reader has already guessed, I'm not feeling wrecked that engineering has ended. Taking up engineering is like applying a complex Bessel function on a real term called Yourself. The result, quite evidently is a complex quantity. ( All math geniuses reading this, pardon the pun).</div><div><br /></div><div>Now to talk about what I expected from engineering, and what actually happened.</div><div><br /></div><div>I loved math and chem in pu. Math continues to appeal to me to this day. Chemistry, however, is a different story. Engg chemistry sucked bigtime. Even to a Chem enthusiast like me. I don't know why they spoil the subject by including only garbage in the syllabus, but it seems like they're intent on making everyone hate chem. They succeed, of course. Next, let's talk about our course. Telecom engg, right. We've learnt so many things which we won't ever use in life, and the course doesn't test our analytical abilities to the extent it needs to be tested. I don't like our approach to the subjects-both classroom, and the texts-talking about some of the prescribed texts makes me want to choke, exceptions being Forouzan and William Stallings-and that makes me want to study more, at some place where true knowledge can be found, where tests aren't designed to check your mugging abilities, where you would need a teeny weeny portion of your brain to get through.</div><div><br /></div><div>Talk about failing expectations.</div><div><br /></div><div>But then, I didn't expect that this course would make me realize that there won't be a guide all the time behind your back, to guide you to the best of anything-be it course books, or a picnic spot, or a decision which will shape your life-and that sometimes, you have to look for yourself, you have to decide for yourself whom and what to follow, you have to decide which of the two roads to take-at the diverging point at the woods-you know, I didn't expect to learn that life has so much more to it than academics, I didn't expect to discover that I had the amazing ability to see people in their truest sense, to know what things are no matter how it looks on the outside, to understand situations like I'd never understood them in pu, and most important of all, to learn the art of trusting the right people.</div><div><br /></div><div>Learnt something during 4 years, haven't I?!</div><div><br /></div><div>All said and done, two factors from what I mentioned above stick out, coz they've influenced every single decision I've made in these four years, they've made me adhere to-and discard some-hard held principles which is gonna stick with me for a very long time from now. </div><div><br /></div><div>One: Seniors. Some, whom I've gotten to know well enough to be friends with, some, who I'm acquainted with, and some who don't even know I exist-these are seniors whose blogs I follow.</div><div>Those days when I came home with frustration and despair, those blogs showed me that those awesome seniors too had had their share of blue days in engineering, and that it's a part of the ride. Those days when bored, reading a post which said 'Damn life is boring at the moment' was enough to make me feel I wasn't alone. Those very blogs, where they've described their lives-some dull days where they only had things to rant about-and some sunny days where life was major fun-inspired me to start a blog, which is the only reason I started blogging. When I found hope, or inspiration in a post, I hoped that one day, somebody would find inspiration reading my blog. </div><div><br /></div><div>If mortals stop believing in the Gods, they would cease to exist. So, here's to all those seniors who are immortalized in my view, whose intelligence I deeply respect, whose principles I make mine without the slightest of hesitation, whose actions I emulate, whom I try to mold myself into, hour after hour, day after day, week after week. So I choose to pay my respects to all those seniors, who have been the reason for everything that I am today.</div><div><br /></div><div>Two: Friends. I've met some really great people, and had a ball of a time with them. To all those trustworthy, fun-loving souls, cheers! </div><div><br /></div><div>When I started this post, I had no idea that when I blatantly list all the negatives, I would be plagued by a mind which would constantly throw the positives into view. So what was supposed to be a rant on how engg didn't make me use my brain, ended up to be a rather pleasant post, what with the paying of respect to seniors which was long overdue, and other things which were mentioned.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ironic, eh? Told ya, where there's irony, there's a story!</div><div><br /></div>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-38685046620316376192010-10-27T21:00:00.011+05:302010-11-01T16:20:22.874+05:30The General State of Things7th sem has been a mixture-in different proportions- of hectic work with everyone breathing fire down my neck at the last minute and lazy afternoons when I have all the time in the world for myself.. The lazy afternoons,when all actions of mine are lackadaisical attempts to regain some momentum in reading or writing or some such thing, is what I'd prefer to the former.. But the hectic weeks are what makes me better, I guess. Having survived one of those crazy hectic weeks last week, and done pretty decently at that, I'm looking forward to the next few weeks, which is packed with tests and tests and yes, more of those damn tests, but I think I won't be lacking in time for anything.. because tests are more tolerable than assignments and the records.. <div><br /></div><div>Oh, did I just mention records? Records are the reason time became a constraint- a commodity an engineering student usually has in ample abundance-they certainly deserve more than a passing mention here. Hence the elucidation.</div><div><br /></div><div>Never before did I have to worry about completing records on time. They just happened. But this time around, Eliyahu Goldratt would have taken lesser time to complete the manuscript for The Goal-1 than the time I took to finish putting those antennas on paper. The chaotic activity in our classroom on thursdays before 2o'clock-and the mayhem we cause- is excruciatingly disturbing to the others..But, for the 18 of us who have to present ourselves at 2 in the lab, it's a different story altogether. Come thursdays, batch B3 can be found in the quadrangle-for those who don't mind letting the lecturers know that they're bunking class and writing record, the canteen/juice center-for those who cannot stay without food for 6 long hours, the lounge- for those who prefer to exercise their rights of bunking without letting the faculty know what they're up and about, and last but not the least, our domicile in college- the very own classroom-for those who have the nerve to write a record right under the nose of a stern lecturer, and the ability to get away with it. And then, there are some others, who coolly walk out of the Image Processing class once she takes attendance-and not just to complete records.. That's the catch- she allows you to walk out, and holds nothing against you-apparently- but if you're in class, you have to listen. So, for some people( read yours truly) who'd rather bunk a two-hour session of IP than walk out in front of her eyes, you need some nerve-to sit there and write something else, and some ability-to pull it off without getting thrown out or suffering high amounts of verbal abuse. This, or inexorably getting lashed-verbally of course-by the lab incharge.</div><div><br /></div><div>One would think we could save ourselves all this trouble by doing the work at home, but surprsingly our batch has stuck to the tradition of no-record-work-at-home, and we've done quite well, coming to think of it! The past week is history, and I'm quite glad.</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>Yesterday was pleasant, though nothing eventful. Today being a holiday, I've had a longer weekend, and the coming week hardly has any work- tomorrow is a half day, unless I decide to take on an extra lab, and Wednesday also has two hours of classes followed by ten minutes of lab( CCN, right!). Thursday will not see us in lab as the other batch has internals, so tomorrow(or Wed) will be our last practical class. The following three days being holidays, giving me time enough to complete everything I want to. This is what I've been waiting for!</div><div><br /></div><div>Cheers, have a good week.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5255004005532290477.post-85632633162024838802010-10-19T14:56:00.007+05:302010-10-19T15:39:53.883+05:30Acads, and did I mention, internals..2nd internals are on. I have RTS and OFC tomo, and the syllabus for this test is vast. Not to mention, it's a do or die situation for me, coz I've already taken the first test lightly, and life gives you only one second chance to un-screw any screwed up thing.<div>The discerning reader might wonder why I choose to update my blog today of all days. </div><div>When there is so much of cramming to be done, what am I doing here? Especially when I know that I'm gonna die tomo if I don't do it? Surely, nothing so consequential has occurred that it has to be updated right now? Well no, but Go figure. </div><div>We had Image processing today.. and hardly 20 students gave the internals- the rest of them are busy cramming for tomo. The paper was way below standards, Murphy's law hitting the others in the face. Tomorrow's subjects are not freaking tough or anything, it's just the general negligence by all of us which fetched us terrible marks-except the 6-7 'Good students'(all of you rem those names he called out am sure!) who have crazy high marks in the sub.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>DSPA ystr was a disaster-a self-created disaster. It's not about the marks anyway..</div><div>6th sem subjects were far more interesting.. this semester treats us to unending theory which can only be crammed. Cramming skills are a dormant thing to most of us, and we haven't chosen to activate it just yet.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Lunch with bro, an article, and a blog-post later, I have no more excuses to stay away from the books. Have to get back..</div><div>Gotto finish what we shouldn't have started..</div><div>gotto walk away somehow...</div><div>But this is only studies, not a meaningless kiss!</div><div><br /></div>Sandhya Nagarajhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09117230972254850351noreply@blogger.com0