<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:02:42.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boulevard Of Broken Dreams</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-2660220235515666471</id><published>2008-01-22T20:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T21:43:54.373-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moments of silence</title><content type='html'>In a dark room, in the silence..... As the eyes close for a moment, the dog barks in the street. As time runs by, the thought wanders. When life is fast, there is no thought, but there is a meaning in the stillness of life, the one given  by thought. Indeed we live two lives, one in the real world and another in our fantasy. When the real world stops for a moment, the fantasy world races. But the clock never moves. Time stands still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   In a city, the life in the real world is predominant. Its a mechanical job of trying to amass as much wealth as you can in your lifetime. The thought stops and the fantasy world dies. The corporates define pleasure for us. The dinner at the posh restaurant. Coffee with a girl at Barista. The iPOD... The world is simple. Life is simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   In a village by the stream, the fantasy is predominant. In a powerful whiff of silence, the leaves rattle. The clock has stopped, and the world is repeating in cycles. Each moment of silence repeats. Lots of moments of silence. The deer howls from a distance. The eyes droop for a moment. The birds chirp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   The effort of setting up a fantasy world is nullified as the real world itself is fantasy. Life's still. The thoughts race. In a fleet of imagination you are there on the opposite shore. The wind took a bit longer though. You throw a stone in the water but you hear the sound before you see it splash. The currents are disturbed for a moment, awakened from a deep, profound silence. But the oncoming moment of silence drubs the occasional moment of a water splash. A fish jumps out of the water, its body glowing in the sun and splashes straight into the water. This time you heard the water splash, but you saw the fish jump and splash before you could turn and see where the splashing sound came from. Moments of silence overwhelm moments of silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Fish nibble at my immersed feet, but I removed them too fast. I scared them away. Then they come back with renewed vigour and start nibbling again. But I felt them nibble at my feet before they actually did it. This anticipation of a moment of pleasure makes it more enjoyable as the moments of nibbling keep repeating. This gives a sustained emotion of pleasure. You moved the feet just a little and silence looms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   I control the world now. Silence looms. Anything you do creates a moment of pleasure that overwhelms the moment of silence. When you are still, the world is still. The world runs at my command now. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; We can have quite a large no. of moments of pleasure. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We have time to grow old&lt;/span&gt;. The world is simple. Life is simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   As you go on, you never knew when the moment of silence replaced a moment of pleasure, but you still felt happy. Without your knowing it, the moments of silence became the moments of pleasure. Silence is pleasure. Pleasure is silence. The world is simple. But life is not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-2660220235515666471?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/2660220235515666471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=2660220235515666471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/2660220235515666471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/2660220235515666471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2008/01/moments-of-silence.html' title='Moments of silence'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-3136659723356002657</id><published>2007-01-02T11:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-02T12:04:17.830-08:00</updated><title type='text'>have 2 pints of beer, somersault on the dance floor, new year is here......</title><content type='html'>Its been quite a while since I blogged. So why am I blogging now? Bored, but seriously. This simulation here is taking ever so long and I cant find any other way to kill time.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are 2 voices speaking in me right now. I dont know what are they. Lets call them Fury and Monk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fury&lt;/span&gt;: 2 days back, it was a special day right? I heard a lot of crackers go boom, boom......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Monk&lt;/span&gt;: Ah, it was new year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fury&lt;/span&gt;: The day when the last digit of the year changed from '6' to '7'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Monk&lt;/span&gt;: Ah, thats an insult to the occasion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fury&lt;/span&gt;: Oh, but it was just another day for me. I could see the sun rise from the east like any other day. Nothing has changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Monk&lt;/span&gt;: You mean you didnt go to any dance parties and all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fury&lt;/span&gt;: Dance Party! What is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Monk&lt;/span&gt;: You know, where people get sloshed and dance to a DJ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fury&lt;/span&gt;: But I dont drink and I dont like dancing to trance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Monk&lt;/span&gt;: At least you could have chalked up some new year resolutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fury&lt;/span&gt;: Meaning?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Monk&lt;/span&gt;: You know, you could wake up on January 1, 2007 and ask yourself to be forgiven for whatever sins you have committed till now and decide to be a different person with a different set of ideals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fury&lt;/span&gt;: Thats interesting. But how does a person change the person that he is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Monk&lt;/span&gt;:  Exactly! Thats what 'New Year' is there for!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fury&lt;/span&gt;: So, whats so special with 'New Year'. Cant you do that sort of thing any day you want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Monk&lt;/span&gt;: Practically you could do that. But new year is when all the people do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fury&lt;/span&gt;: Oh great! I will confess for all my sins on my deathbed then. I will pray that there's no God to punish us and make a fuss over this. Leave me alone now. Leave me alone. Hey, where are you? Where are you man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Monk vanished into thin air and only Fury remains now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fury: My best friends from Bangalore and Mumbai had come downtown to spend time with me. We went out and had a nice time. That doesnt happen always. So, thanks to days like New Year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The fireworks started at about 2 in the morning on January 1st. Endless rocket bombs went one after the other soaring into the sky and exploding to give me a beautiful sight to behold, sitting as I was on top of a small water tank with only the faint trickle of water flowing disturbing the silence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fury&lt;/span&gt;(after a shortwhile, thinking within himself): You know this place is so cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-3136659723356002657?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/3136659723356002657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=3136659723356002657' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/3136659723356002657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/3136659723356002657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2007/01/have-2-pints-of-beer-somersault-on.html' title='have 2 pints of beer, somersault on the dance floor, new year is here......'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-115072225096939590</id><published>2006-06-19T05:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-19T06:48:37.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NE India Pilgrimage: Day 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2454/805/1600/c195scd.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2454/805/320/c195scd.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice morning, partly cloudy, 32 degree C and I was still unaware about the surroundings in a world of my own. Ah, dont remind me of those bed-teas and the food that you get at home. So, at 10:30 we were at the Victoria Memorial in Kolkata. I dont really like museums and all but this one was worth the time. Calcutta had been an important place during the times of our freedom struggle, and you would be reminded of this fact when you visited the museum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Howrah bridge is one of the few of that type in India. It was nice going on top of the bridge in the good old ambassador that took us to Calcutta airport to catch the flight to Bagdogra. 1-hr of torture ended as we landed at Bagdogra by about 4PM. An Omni arranged by Help Tourism was already there that took us to Kalimpong Park Hotel, Kalimpong in about 3 hrs. We spent the night in the hotel with a little bit of television helping us in removing the boredom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-115072225096939590?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/115072225096939590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=115072225096939590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/115072225096939590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/115072225096939590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2006/06/ne-india-pilgrimage-day-1.html' title='NE India Pilgrimage: Day 1'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-114805803025577677</id><published>2006-05-19T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T10:00:30.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NE India pilgrimage: Day 0</title><content type='html'>After my first experience on an aeroplane, I've found flights rather boring. A 1-hour flight is quite ideal in that before you get through your refreshments slowly and read some papers, you are set for landing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was a 2-hour flight from Chennai to Kolkata that I was onto, and I anticipated a boring 1-hour on the flight. It was even worse with the evening sun on my window and I, trying my best to eat slowly, finished my plate within an hour and I was left with nothing to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After idling for sometime, I witnessed one of the best views one could ever see on a flight. From my window, I could see the evening orange sun peeking from behind the clouds and setting out beams of rays like that you experience in a jungle, when you see the sun through the trees. The rest of the flight passed away in a flash and by the time the plane landed at the kolkata airport, it was 7 PM and well into the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was all in anticipation of the trip to mountains in the north-east part of India. The sight of the sinking sun raised my spirits in a rather dull life that I am living now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was planning to blog the events starting from day 1 of the trip but the sunset was too good to be left out and I chronicled it as Day 0!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-114805803025577677?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/114805803025577677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=114805803025577677' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114805803025577677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114805803025577677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2006/05/ne-india-pilgrimage-day-0.html' title='NE India pilgrimage: Day 0'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-114666481513767218</id><published>2006-05-03T06:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T07:03:20.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What the author thinks.....</title><content type='html'>My end-sems get over tomorrow, and theres a special air on these days. You start thinking about various things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my first year, even a week before end-sems, I used to start thinking about home. Eating my mother's dosas and her lovely combination of spices, my friends back at home, my little sister, the smell of sand that comes after rain, the symbol of peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come my second year, I used to have similar feelings but it comes to me during the course of end-sems, not a week before.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come my third year, I think about the stupid internship that I have at IMSc and wonder why all this formality?, why this engineering course?, why IIT?, why existence? Philosophical questions such as this used to bother me all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come my fourth year(that is, NOW), I do not think of home. I am not thinking about the cute little baby that my sister-in-law gave birth to. I am not thinking about the cute little baby that is going to come out in November from my sister's womb. I am not thinking of my DDP with my prof. I sit in front of the damn computer, wasting all my time surfing over loads of useless stuff on the internet. I dont chat with friends. Still, I manage to waste time on the computer. At least during the courses, you think of the courses (maybe negative feelings but hell, feelings nonetheless). Now that my exam gets over tomorrow, there is a feeling of EMPTINESS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart is totally EMPTY. I am void of any feelings now. I am not even thinking about the beautiful mountains of Darjeeling which I would be visiting in a few days time. What has happened to me? Am I incapable of reacting to events around me? Do you need to react to everything that happens around you? Do you need to express your love towards other people to show them that you actually care?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is my birthday and my mother talks to me over the phone. That fails to create any excitement in me. I consider birthday as any other day, except that the people who care for you want to show that they care for you by giving you presents, cards, taking you outside to eat. Do I deserve this? I definitely dont mind the perks that come along my way, but I dont want presents or cards from somebody to remind me that there are people who care for me. Does it show that they think I dont care about them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hell, I've asked too many questions. I rather stop now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-114666481513767218?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/114666481513767218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=114666481513767218' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114666481513767218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114666481513767218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2006/05/what-author-thinks.html' title='What the author thinks.....'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-114387171618365005</id><published>2006-03-31T21:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-04-01T04:34:43.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm thinking about blogging....</title><content type='html'>The last of the exams of quiz 2 got over today. I needed half an hour more than others to solve a simple paper, but I solved it anyway. Now what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about my hostel, Narmada's chances of winning LM/WM group. Still remember the time 2 years back when we did immensely well but still ended up coming 2nd in LM group. We had arguably the best guitarist and undisputedly the best keyboardist with us. We felt hard done by. We felt the judges selected individual brilliance over group work as the winning hostel had a super vocalist who stole the show. Last year, we didnt participate in LM group as we didnt have a drummer. Now, we have a decent guitarist, a god-level guy at pads, an ok drummer who doesn't miss the beats and decent vocalists. The team is doing well and we complement each other well. Would want to add an LM group victory to my gallery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about WM group. We know that our chances at WM arent great, so we would like to enjoy ourselves and perform the songs that we like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about LM solo, where amazingly, 3 people from our hostel went through to the finals. Now that I'm in the finals, I would like to take it seriously and do some practice to land up with a formidable place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking  about the 4-a-side intra hostel football event and would like to play well and take my team a fair distance (as I'm not that great a footballer you know).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about 6-a-side footer and would so love to see Narmada winning it and would also like to take the team that I play in through a fair distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about the horrible mess that opened up opposite to our hostel, which rather looks like a 5-star hospital unless someone told you its a mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about the Bolton v/s Manchester United game tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about my sister and her life in Chennai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about Sting as I'm listening to this wonderful song while I'm blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about crashing in the afternoon to compensate for all those sleeping hours lost in the night due to my mugging prowess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking about today's LM/WM practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate to think about having my lunch in the mess half an hour from now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate to think about the hot weather that is unsettling our daily habits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate to think about the assignment in Analog IC Design that is due tomorrow midnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate to think about the assignment in DSP Algos that is due Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This song by Coldplay is good you know, and I think its raising my spirits and all.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-114387171618365005?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/114387171618365005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=114387171618365005' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114387171618365005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114387171618365005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2006/04/im-thinking-about-blogging.html' title='I&apos;m thinking about blogging....'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-114354859876965728</id><published>2006-03-28T04:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-28T04:33:09.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bible — Ezekiel 25:17</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;"The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who in the name of charity and good will shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/5/5d/Pulp_Fiction-Bible.jpg/250px-Pulp_Fiction-Bible.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/5/5d/Pulp_Fiction-Bible.jpg/250px-Pulp_Fiction-Bible.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Samuel Jackson's first rendition of this phrase and the follow-up in Quentin Tarantino's "Pulp Fiction" is the best scene that I've seen in any Hollywood movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-114354859876965728?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/114354859876965728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=114354859876965728' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114354859876965728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114354859876965728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2006/03/bible-ezekiel-2517.html' title='Bible — Ezekiel 25:17'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-114346257647365365</id><published>2006-03-27T04:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T04:29:36.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Whadda I got to, whadda I got to do to wake ya up, to shake ya up, to break the structure up</title><content type='html'>"Any system can be overwhelmed".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nowadays, life for everyone is how to beat the system you are in. It is true for all fields ranging from education to law. The obvious question one needs to ask is: "Do we affect others' lives by doing so?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was with my friend at "Ascendas", sipping on a Cafe Mocha when we were talking about the loopholes in our system. Whatever problem we took, it just kept circling around various departments. Though we kept talking about "problems", there was no solution available.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people are open to change, but some are not. Its a simple statement, but its true. Some people succeed in changing their beliefs and ideals but some can't digest it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Assume you have criminals locked up in a jail. If you could somehow change the criminal and manage to change him into a righteous person, then what would be the need for punishment? (reminded of "A Clockwork Orange"?). You know, kinda erase whatever is there on his brain make him a child at heart and now he is open to any new ideas and suggestions and would accept what he feels right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now the blame falls on the society! This is a big circle and you could go on and on. But the important point is "you can change innocent minds". Or rather, striving for a perfect society would directly relate to the education that a child receives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indian education is supposed to be one of the best, isnt it? But, what is it based on? The quality of Mathematics? Or, is it about the physics you learn? I would rather say the education in schools in India is rather poor. No education would be perfect unless you develop the child's personality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Schools shape a child's character, not the parents. Many of you may tend to disagree, but I think its true. What is that school if it cant instil values in a child? Why is computer education being pushed up the level and introduced for a 4th standard student? Why does no syllabus have a subject called "Moral Education" in it? Why is there no change in the syllabus as far as moral education is concerned?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I still get recognised as the guy who scored 93% in his board exam? Far from it. The people who love me, love me for what my character is. What good is the score in the board exam, if I dont have friends around? What good am I if I don't have people around me who care for me? What is the use of all this gimmick if I don't have people who can mourn my death from their heart when I die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can only beat the system, changing it would be a difficult task. The solution to most of the problems would be to revamp the whole education system. Make strong characters out of children. Give them credit for what they are and not for how much marks they attained. Not everyone is born to be a mathematician.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The present situation can change. It would be a slow change, but a change for the good. The doorway to a bright future. The precursor to a better world. The key to life....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-114346257647365365?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/114346257647365365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=114346257647365365' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114346257647365365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114346257647365365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2006/03/whadda-i-got-to-whadda-i-got-to-do-to.html' title='Whadda I got to, whadda I got to do to wake ya up, to shake ya up, to break the structure up'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-114225629540643643</id><published>2006-03-13T05:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T05:24:55.406-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Strap up your arm, find a vein, inject drugs and when you fall, glance over what is written beneath......</title><content type='html'>"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Choose&lt;/span&gt; life. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Choose&lt;/span&gt; a job. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Choose&lt;/span&gt; a starter home. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Choose&lt;/span&gt; dental insurance, leisure wear and matching luggage. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Choose&lt;/span&gt; your future. But why would anyone want to do a thing like that?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think over this statement. Then, think over it again. You'll keep thinking and end up accepting that the statement is so true!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can't find the source of this quote, see the next line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want proof, watch "Trainspotting".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-114225629540643643?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/114225629540643643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=114225629540643643' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114225629540643643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114225629540643643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2006/03/strap-up-your-arm-find-vein-inject.html' title='Strap up your arm, find a vein, inject drugs and when you fall, glance over what is written beneath......'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-114147758146430064</id><published>2006-03-04T04:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-04T05:06:21.463-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mallu Reunion</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, 13 of us mallus in IITM went to The Piano Restaurant, Savera as part of a treat given by 5 of them for getting a job. It was nice meeting up with all of them after a long break. Who cares for the quality of the grub as long as one doesnt feel like puking after having the food?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kind of felt very sad that it required a job treat for us to meet up after a long time. I don't even want to think two months ahead when all my BTech friends will say goodbye and pass out  of the institute in search of their life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny that distance isn't the only criterion for meeting up with friends. If you are in different hostels in IITM, the chances of your meeting them are very remote. Why is it so?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would I be if  not for my wingmates who are my only comfort in misery? They are currently the ones with whom I share all of my emotions. No one comforts me more than my wingmates. If you guys are reading this, I just want to say how happy I am that you people came into my life......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-114147758146430064?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/114147758146430064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=114147758146430064' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114147758146430064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114147758146430064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2006/03/mallu-reunion.html' title='Mallu Reunion'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-114136245057484103</id><published>2006-03-02T20:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-02T21:20:02.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Truth about Truth</title><content type='html'>How many directors went down this line and made movies I don't know, but it sure got me thinking yesterday. The movies "A Beautiful Mind" and "15 Park Avenue" dealt with a common situation. A person suffering from schizophrenia - something which humans gave as a name to behaving strangely and suffering from hallucinations. Now, what is a hallucination? - again, its a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;name&lt;/span&gt; given by &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;humans&lt;/span&gt; to people who can see, feel, hear or taste something &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;which doesn't exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    How do you say that something exists and another thing doesn't? Humans gave a definition that anything that exists can be felt by atleast one of the five senses that a man has. What if there are other modes of sense that a human doesn't have which can prove the existence of something? Isn't this exactly why people keep dogs as watchman of the house because you know &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dogs can hear something which humans cannot?&lt;/span&gt; Lets assume that 2 people are sitting in a perfectly silent place and one guy says he can hear something distinctly, the other person will just laugh it off if he himself couldnt hear it. What if they had a dog with them and it started barking for something? You would be scared even if you couldn't sense it. What if man hadn't discovered that dogs can hear noises that man cannot? You would definitely say that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the dog has lost its mind. It has gone mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    What if there is some creature that can see things that a man cannot? Wouldn't that be hard to accept? Man wouldnt rest peacefully till someone ventures out to see what its all about and lays down some axioms and proves that there are indeed some creatures which can see things that a man cannot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem occurs when another &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;man&lt;/span&gt; himself sees, hears, or feels (rather hallucinates) something which you cannot. Then you consider that man as one of your own kind and say he's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lunatic&lt;/span&gt; and call him as suffering from a mental illness and try to cure him. What if the man thought it better to keep those things within him? Lets say that the man sees something that doesnt exist but he keeps it to himself. He doesn't say it to anyone. Now, wouldn't you allow him to live peacefully along with others in the community. You wouldn't call him mad, would you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man is supposed to be intelligent and he belongs to a very large community. Any man tends to hold an opinion which 99% of the others prove right. But no one could even care about trying to find the truth behind something which a supposedly &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mad man&lt;/span&gt; says. You are so confident you are right. What if someone proved it to you that you were wrong. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What is the truth? Who is speaking the truth? Is there any absolute truth that exists in this universe?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-114136245057484103?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/114136245057484103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=114136245057484103' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114136245057484103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114136245057484103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2006/03/truth-about-truth.html' title='The Truth about Truth'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-114122513998184244</id><published>2006-03-01T06:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-01T09:29:59.330-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What a pathetic bunch of losers...</title><content type='html'>Have a look at this link......   &lt;a href="http://in.rediff.com/movies/2006/mar/01bush.htm"&gt;http://in.rediff.com/movies/2006/mar/01bush.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Need I say more?  Probably,  there aren't any Lewinski's left for Bush to date!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-114122513998184244?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/114122513998184244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=114122513998184244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114122513998184244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114122513998184244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2006/03/what-pathetic-bunch-of-losers.html' title='What a pathetic bunch of losers...'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23223873.post-114122489057329370</id><published>2006-03-01T06:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-01T06:54:50.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I was on a break!</title><content type='html'>Its a beautiful day....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23223873-114122489057329370?l=portofmystery.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/feeds/114122489057329370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23223873&amp;postID=114122489057329370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114122489057329370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23223873/posts/default/114122489057329370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://portofmystery.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-was-on-break.html' title='I was on a break!'/><author><name>sriganesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00396417104664531318</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://www.markshields.com/images/depeche-mode-playing-the-angel-album-art.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
