<?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-20133178</id><updated>2011-08-03T01:01:00.752-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions Of A Non-Existent Mind</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Raj</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15295286247163182304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20133178.post-113804502808780421</id><published>2006-01-23T11:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-01T11:06:21.610-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Momma, I'm A TV Star!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;No. Ekta Kapoor has not taken me in her next serial titled &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'Kalyuuug Kabbhii Toh Aayegaa'&lt;/span&gt; (spelling subject to Bansilal Jumani's approval). Nor am I idle enough to participate on '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Indian Idle II - Pagla Kaun?'&lt;/span&gt; Yet, I feel like climbing a multi-storeyed building and screaming from the rooftop that I am a TV star!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;To say the truth, the situation was like being an extra in a movie. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NDTV&lt;/span&gt; was conducting a debate amongst college students and they approached the mass media section of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Kishinchand Chellaram&lt;/span&gt; College (Er, don't faint ... that is actually my college's name). Since yours truly was too busy doing nothing on the day the participants were chosen (read that as 'bunking'), I did not get to participate in the actual debate, per se, but instead got to be a part of the audience. An audience which could not hear a single word of the debate because we were seated too far away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Well, they did not know how to arrange the seats, you see. It might not look great on camera, if we are seated this way, or that way. At the end of the day, the reason we were summoned to be a part of the 'audience' was to provide the right ambience (Hey, that just rhymed ... I'm turning poetic). What nonsense (rhymed again, one day I'll reach the level of my idol, Roshesh), as if we are mountains and trees, needed only to provide the proper ambience.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;But it was not all that bad, to say the truth. The topics that were debated were actually a part of a discussion some of us had had, a few days ago - 'Should women be disallowed from doing night shifts?', 'Does Mumbai lack a campus life?' and 'Sting operations - Are they ethical?'. No, yes, depends. Er, I'm talking about my respective views on the aforementioned topics &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;But it was interesting to watch a television programme being filmed, interesting to watch the manner in which a show to be telecast on NDTV was being shot by using merely one hand-held camera, interesting to appear deep in conversation with the girls with this highly intellectual expression on my face (Trust me, it's an art - the art of looking fake) whenever the camera focussed on yours truly in the audience.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;But at the end of the day, I ended up as a lame duck on television. Like an idiot who has erroneously made his way to the idiot box. Why then did I agree to go for the shoot? Was it because I was desperate to project myself as a potential Balaji lead hero? No, I would have just needed to call myself Krrajj then. Was it because I wanted free attendance? Not really, I was actually supposed to watch a presentation I really wanted to. Was it because of the free Good Day biscuits that we were served?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Certainly not ... main gudde guddiyon se nahin khelta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Probably, it was because of that immensely cute NDTV anchor. Wonder why I didn't take her phone number, I swear I could see her smiling at me. Yeah, she wasn't smiling at the camera, she was obviously smiling at me ... wasn't she?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggg&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;*rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnngggggggggg*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Hell ... the dream is over. Time to wake up ...&lt;br /&gt;=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggg&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20133178-113804502808780421?l=nikamma1112.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/feeds/113804502808780421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20133178&amp;postID=113804502808780421' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default/113804502808780421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default/113804502808780421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/2006/01/momma-im-tv-star.html' title='Momma, I&apos;m A TV Star!'/><author><name>Raj</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15295286247163182304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20133178.post-113796089368263323</id><published>2006-01-22T11:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-23T08:37:32.276-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love All.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;So yours truly has now started showing a wee bit of interest in tennis. And for once, the interest is not restricted to a certain Anna Kournikova.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why does this former state level table tennis player (a wee bit of self-adulation will not kill anyone, will it?) want to play tennis instead?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Because he loves to create a 'racket'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Because he wants to 'love all'. All the girls in his class, at least. A few of them, outside, as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Because he wants to learn the art of 'court'ship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Because he loves to 'serve' girls a 'volley' of questions. Questions which border from 'Will you go out to me?' to 'Will you go out with me?' At times though, he also asks girls if they would go out with him. Er, was there any repetition out there?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Actually, tennis has always fascinated me - right since I had sat through the night, watching a long-haired Andre Agassi (did I hear someone sing 'kya se kya ho gaya' ?)  yield his racket, brandishing it as if it was a sword, beheading each and every opponent who dared to come in his way. And bowing at the end of the duel, blowing kisses to the crowd that cheered. As those cheers reverberated through my head, hours after having seen the telecast of the match, I dreamt of holding a similar racket myself, sending the ball to the other side of the court at the speed at which a gun shoots bullets. Those commentators would keep mentioning my name as I would scamper from one end of the court to another, with my hair swaying, as I would go about demoralising the poor fellow who was put up against me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, it was the kind of dream a seven year old has everyday, with something new being the subject. Tennis player, cricketer, policeman, pilot ... for that matter, I had even dreamt of being Gabbar Singh and threatening to cut off the hands of whichever teacher assigned a lot of homework. But that's a different story, altogether.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, tennis again caught my fancy when I was just entering my teens, as that was the time when a certain Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupati were beginning to make waves on the circuit. The fact that I'd met them and had their hastily-scribbled signatures on a piece of paper was the kind of thing which I would never fail to mention to whoever I met. Yeah right, I started following tennis because of Agassi's comeback and Lee-Hesh's exploits. The fact that I had lost my heart to Martina Hingis had nothing to do with it. Absolutely nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now now now, why does no one ever believe me? What can I do to prove that I am not lying? Use a webcam and click a picture that proves that I'm sitting on a chair and not lying down?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, of course, Lee-Hesh broke up, Agassi could not sustain his brilliant performances due to the emergence of Federer &amp; Co, and Hingis suffered a career-threatening injury (She is now back, it seems ... God is great. Yes, I am great.) So why is it after all these years that I have decided to go out there, buy a racket and enroll for coaching? Frankly, I don't know. It's the kind of decision I take when I get up one fine morning and say to myself, "Chalo, let's learn tennis." But it will be fun, to experience the transition from the table to the court, from the shake-hand to whatever grip the tennis coaches advise me to use, from table tennis which rarely saw any females (at least, at the club I played at) to tennis, where ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;speechless&gt;Alright, if I list the number of women tennis players I find cute, from the Hingises to the Kournikovas, from the Sharapovas to the Mirzas, this blog post will exceed its limit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now you know the reason I'm taking up tennis. Apart from the first four reasons I'd mentioned, of course, what with me wanting to court a certain someone, and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I swear that the last line is not a hint to someone. I also solemnly accept that I am a liar.&lt;br /&gt;=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/speechless&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20133178-113796089368263323?l=nikamma1112.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/feeds/113796089368263323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20133178&amp;postID=113796089368263323' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default/113796089368263323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default/113796089368263323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/2006/01/love-all.html' title='Love All.'/><author><name>Raj</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15295286247163182304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20133178.post-113562762669450048</id><published>2005-12-26T12:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-26T12:25:58.303-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stop Stinging, It Hurts ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's all because of Shah Rukh Khan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone seems to have taken King Khan's song a little too seriously and are out to prove that they are the best. I mean, how can they, with me around?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'Xcuse me while I fall down to earth. Ouch, that hurt ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Take news channels, for example. After India TV conducted the sting operations on Shakti Kapoor and Aman Verma, every channel seems to be carrying hidden cameras wherever they go. With most of the loser news channels conducting 'sting operations', watching the news has become a painful experience (no pun intended). I have a sneaking suspicion that Manoj Prabhakar is the brainchild behind some of the garbage that is being thrust upon the hapless viewer in the guise of 'news'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Like this apology-in-the-name-of-a-news-channel which was rather concerned about the falling values and morals amongst today's youth. What do these protectors of our culture do? Go around shooting teenagers in discotheques who are indulging in acts that are 'downright immoral'. Yeah right, wearing an off-shoulder top is downright immoral. If a guy prefers to kiss his girlfriend, he becomes a blot on our society. But the channel which shamelessly shoots the couple who are obviously sharing a very private moment and broadcasting it on national television in the name of news is doing a fine job, indeed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Yes, do report the fact that discotheques are not adhering to the age guidelines (whether the guidelines themselves are justified is a different matter, altogether). Do report the increasing instances of drunk youngsters getting out of hand at discotheques resulting in sexual crimes or hit-and-runs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;But please refrain from pretending to be saviours of the society and secretly filming a couple kissing, just for that bit of sensationalism and voyeurism, in the bid for higher TRPs. It doesn't make you any different from the clan of perverts who go around filming and circulating explicit MMSes. It's the kind of thing that induces a slight snigger on the faces of my relatives who hear that I am learning mass media.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;It's a different matter, of course, that the snigger is an almost permanent expression of theirs, while talking to me. As permanent an expression as, say, Alok Nath's constant smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which reminds me of what I saw after switching that disgusting news channel off. Zee Cinema playing Hum Aapke Hain Kaun, with Alok Nath playing the harmonium with the concentration of a Satriani blistering through his guitar solo, in his bid to woo Reema Lagoo. But that's another story, and for another post, altogether.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20133178-113562762669450048?l=nikamma1112.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/feeds/113562762669450048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20133178&amp;postID=113562762669450048' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default/113562762669450048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default/113562762669450048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/2005/12/stop-stinging-it-hurts_27.html' title='Stop Stinging, It Hurts ...'/><author><name>Raj</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15295286247163182304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20133178.post-113545763837736524</id><published>2005-12-24T12:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-24T13:07:54.626-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jokers Act Serious As Dadagiri Returns.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Wonders never cease. It is indeed a miracle. No, Ekta Kapoor has not stopped producing serials, but it indeed seems miraculous that the bunch of selectors aka the Indian selectors have finally got it right. Saurav is not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;left&lt;/span&gt; out, and that's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go ahead, er ... I mean, read on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Dadagiri will make its return as Santa decided to end Saurav's sorrow by giving him an early X'mas present. That Saurav still has a major part to play in this team is undoubted - it is he who built this team right from scratch. While he has shown signs of getting back to form, and we all know that when Saurav Ganguly is in full flow, he tends to be right &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;up there&lt;/span&gt; along with the one &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;up there&lt;/span&gt;, on the off-side. Allegations of lack of team spirit, indiscipline and all the rants written by the Aussie-imported coach have one answer - this 'indisciplined, selfish, unfit cricketer' has led us to Test wins in Australia, West Indies, Pakistan and Zimbabwe. He remains India's best captain, statistically or otherwise. And whatever Navjot Sidhu may want us to believe, statistics are certainly not like mini-skirts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;If they would have been, Mohandas Menon would have been the most envied man around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Now, all may be nice and sunny, but if you want a good dose of comedy, let's just trace back and watch a special performance by the bunch of jokers of the BCCI Circus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;(Sponsored by Nike - the main reason for India's population, after all they keep telling us to just do it.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;When Ganguly was selected for the 1st Test against Sri Lanka, he was selected as an all-rounder (you are allowed to cough, refrain from puking as your monitor won't be too pretty a sight then). An all-rounder, who was selected in place of Zaheer Khan. May I repeat, Saurav Ganguly with a batting average of 40.87 and bowling average of 53.12 was selected ahead of Zaheer Khan, who has a batting average of 12.00 and bowling average of 36.25. What's unbelievable, the date was not April 1.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;When he was dropped after having played well in the Delhi Test, the excuse dished out was that the selectors needed to build a team for the future. Suddenly, now they have remembered that Saurav Chandidas Ganguly has the experience of having played for ten years at the top level. And yeah, suddenly Saurav's future is Orange, er, bright.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;You are allowed to laugh &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Not at my lame attempt at humour, laugh at the jokers. Hello ... can't you spot the difference?!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;And yeah, let's wait and watch. Jokers may make a few good decisions like this one, but they never stop goofing around. There will be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; from More.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;(Sponsored by Pepsi - Shah Rukh, stuttering in the commercial, yeh dil maange K-k-k-k-k-k-Kiran More.)&lt;br /&gt;=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20133178-113545763837736524?l=nikamma1112.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/feeds/113545763837736524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20133178&amp;postID=113545763837736524' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default/113545763837736524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default/113545763837736524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/2005/12/jokers-act-serious-as-dadagiri-returns_25.html' title='Jokers Act Serious As Dadagiri Returns.'/><author><name>Raj</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15295286247163182304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20133178.post-113544713695988721</id><published>2005-12-24T09:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-22T14:35:30.400-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Introductions, and all that ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Here I am, this is me, there is nowhere else on the Net that I'd rather be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;No. This dotcom hasn't paid me to say that. I swear they haven't.&lt;br /&gt;(Ok, will the Tata Indica guys stop boxing me?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;So why is the laziest person on the face of this earth taking the effort to put his bum to the chair and start writing, er, typing? Why am I writing a blog?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;ul style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; &lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Because I want to prove to the world that I am the next Salman Rushdie. I wouldn’t mind a Padmalakshmi, as the free gift.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt; &lt;ul style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; &lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Because I want pretty women (dekho dekho na) to read my posts and believe that I am their knight in shining armour. I hope that a couple of them will soon call me home to meet their mommas for chai. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Er no ... I prefer coffee.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt;   &lt;ul style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; &lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Because I want to be famous. I want my blog to have as many hits as those websites that promise you free trips to Switzerland. And by hits, I mean readers logging on to my blog, not standing outside my house with batons, waiting to hit me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt;   &lt;ul style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; &lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Because I want to prove through my writings that Shah Rukh Khan is not the only one who can sing 'I am the best'. For better effect, I'm going to call myself the n-n-n-n-n-n-nikamma.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt;  &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Hey, wait, there is no need to smash your monitor! I'm just joking ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Funny name na .. 'just joking'. Well, actually, I'm Raj.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Now, doesn't that sound like those filmi scenes where the hero casually walks up to the damsel he's set his eyes on, and croons, with an outstretched hand, "Hey, I'm Raj ..." (especially if it's a certain Shah Rukh Khan working in a Yash Chopra production).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I assure you though that reading this blog will not make you hear any "Aaah aahh aaah aaah" kind of background music. All it will do is wonder how someone's sense of humour can be so bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Well, it's not that bad actually..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;It's worse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;So pop in that Aspirin and get ready for the joyride of your lives. So what if it gives a headache? It's free, at least.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;(Now I'm assured that Sindhis will queue up to read my blog since it's free.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20133178-113544713695988721?l=nikamma1112.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/feeds/113544713695988721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20133178&amp;postID=113544713695988721' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default/113544713695988721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default/113544713695988721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/2005/12/introductions-and-all-that_24.html' title='Introductions, and all that ...'/><author><name>Raj</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15295286247163182304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20133178.post-113535361222002554</id><published>2005-12-23T07:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-23T08:08:21.583-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Beginning With A Bang ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1487/444/1600/wr124_hst.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/1487/444/320/wr124_hst.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;How about some applause, folks?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20133178-113535361222002554?l=nikamma1112.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/feeds/113535361222002554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20133178&amp;postID=113535361222002554' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default/113535361222002554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20133178/posts/default/113535361222002554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nikamma1112.blogspot.com/2005/12/beginning-with-bang.html' title='Beginning With A Bang ...'/><author><name>Raj</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15295286247163182304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
