<?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-16410048</id><updated>2012-01-31T15:04:41.845-05:00</updated><category term='Friends'/><category term='Nostalgia'/><category term='King'/><category term='Friendship'/><title type='text'>I Me Myself</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>92</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-2921538909555145058</id><published>2012-01-31T12:19:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T15:04:41.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The year that was</title><content type='html'>I planned to pretend that I didn’t notice the year slip by. The downside of being a lazy blogger is that you have to think very hard about what you really did over the year. Let me attempt a quick download on what’s been happening so far – be warned that most of the happenings don’t fall under the breaking-news category. I guess the “most of the happenings” part will keep some interest alive. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 2011&lt;br /&gt;– The year started on a high note – K3, my darling little sister got married to AG. It was a beautiful ceremony – none of the usual bickering that’s taken granted for in Indian weddings.&lt;br /&gt;I gave a flavor of my “strict aversion to any kind of fun” by promptly going to bed when my entire clan danced away to glory at the seemant pujan which coincided with the New Year celebration. A was disgusted, to say the least!&lt;br /&gt;Rest of January to April&lt;br /&gt;– Other than the unprecedented snow storms in the north east, nothing that I can remember. Well, I want to forget what I did at work as this period is our official busy season. What, haven’t you heard of such a concept before? Lucky you, must say!&lt;br /&gt;But I sure remember the historic win of the men in blue, in April!! Oh my, what a joy it was to watch that victory! Yeah…I didn’t see the game for the fear of jinxing anything. Haha, things we silly fans do for the team to win! I’ll remember that wonderful moment for a really long time. (The later England and Australia tours – I don’t even care)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May&lt;br /&gt;– A’s parents arrived on their maiden trip to the US. Unfortunately for them the summer started very late and it was mostly cold and wet during their stay. But we had a good time – good food and good talk.&lt;br /&gt;A super short get-together of the three sisters, their husbands and two sets of in-laws. &lt;br /&gt;Cheering at K3’s graduation. A super-hectic yet memorable trip to NYC with everyone in tow. Was mighty pleased with pictures of this trip – finally, I’m beginning to move towards being photogenic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;June&lt;br /&gt;– Niagara again, in a gang of 11 this time! Missed K2 and Maks sorely.&lt;br /&gt;A wonderful surprise was to run into G, my lost-and-found friend from school. Thus the conclusion is that the probability of two Indian women running into one another is the highest at Niagara Falls. That’s a good indicator of the sheer number of desis there, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;July&lt;br /&gt;– Discovered a splendid getaway in NH, just a couple hours drive for us. Reconfirms my belief that I’m happiest near a water body no more than one foot deep. This tiny brook of a river, Pemi, meets all my criteria of how playful and friendly a river should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;August – hmm…I don’t remember anything. Never mind, you are not missing anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;September - December&lt;br /&gt;- Now, September onwards things really got moving at a break-neck speed so I’ll leave out the chronology part of it.&lt;br /&gt;Moving apartments (packing, repacking, unpacking, cleaning – not just regular but scrub- till-it-shines heavy duty cleaning)&lt;br /&gt;A memorable trip to Grand Canyon (subject of another post) – what a place this is! Highlights include the chopper ride, the boat (pontoon or something) ride, the yummy lunch at the ranch and of course the gorgeous panoramic views.&lt;br /&gt;A dazed trip to Vegas – seriously, am I an oddball to wonder what the big deal is about!&lt;br /&gt;A really short but incredible trip to London squeezed in somehow in the overall chaotic scheme of things. (Yet another post, I promise)&lt;br /&gt;A trip to India with no clue about where would we end up in a couple of months time –that things fell into place without us doing much is a huge relief.&lt;br /&gt;Met P, S and PK and their spouses. Such a joy to see old friends. And an even greater joy to see them happily settled with their spouses…&lt;br /&gt;And the biggest news of the year happened towards the fag end – I quit my job of 6 years! Yes, after months of agonizing over it. No matter how hard I try to downplay this big change in my life, I fear getting up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, regretting. So far I haven’t fully digested the idea of being unemployed so the regret hasn’t happened yet – I still mourn on Sunday evenings for a bit before I realize that Monday mornings shouldn't bother me now! ;) That said, I LOVED my work and absolutely miss some very nice people I met there. However, I’m really happy that I don’t need to tolerate &lt;i&gt; some &lt;/i&gt; people any more. &lt;br /&gt;So actually, 2011 saw us doing different things, visiting new places, meeting new people and several old friends, and making some important decisions. I think it was overall a good year for us.&lt;br /&gt;The New Year started on a promising note as well. My mom’s book was released – the result of her tireless efforts for the last 6 years. Such a proud moment and am I glad I was there to celebrate! (Another post, I promise for sure!)&lt;br /&gt;Spent a wonderful week in Aurangabad with mom-dad and hogged on my favorite foods. How I missed home!&lt;br /&gt;In the meanwhile, I have also managed to check off two more jyotirlingas from the list of 12. Then there was this trans-Atlantic trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My resolutions for 2012 are all over the place – creative, fitness and life related. And of course to be a more regular blogger. For once, I want to be ambitious and over-achieve. That’s a good sign I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;(PS: This post is for PK, my dear friend who hasn’t given up on me or this space! :))&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-2921538909555145058?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/2921538909555145058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=2921538909555145058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/2921538909555145058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/2921538909555145058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2012/01/year-that-was.html' title='The year that was'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-7436804561143362893</id><published>2011-08-09T12:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T12:10:24.205-04:00</updated><title type='text'>August, here i come!</title><content type='html'>What are the different excuses you come up with to skip your daily jog/run/yoga?&lt;br /&gt;Here's a peek into mine -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I’m tired&lt;br /&gt;-I need to rest (since i dig trenches at work)&lt;br /&gt;-It’s too late&lt;br /&gt;-I’m hungry&lt;br /&gt;-It’s raining&lt;br /&gt;-It might rain&lt;br /&gt;-There are weird looking people on the streets&lt;br /&gt;-There is a giant dog in the park&lt;br /&gt;-There is a nervous dog in the park&lt;br /&gt;-I’m too embarrassed to run (the pitiable way I run) with so many experts running&lt;br /&gt;-I don't have a proper running outfit&lt;br /&gt;-It’s too hot&lt;br /&gt;-It’s too cold&lt;br /&gt;-just like that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ones below take the cake as the lamest excuses ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I can’t unlock the apartment door (?!?)&lt;br /&gt;-Now that I have opened it, I can’t lock the door&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be fair to yours truly, it has rained for the last few days and the wooden door doesn’t open/close properly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, it’s high time I make some fitness goals – so in response to K2’s call, here’s my goal for the month of August - Run 3 rounds around the park (non-stop 15 mins) and run a total of 6 rounds (run and walk – 30 mins). Boo me if i chicken out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-7436804561143362893?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/7436804561143362893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=7436804561143362893' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7436804561143362893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7436804561143362893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2011/08/august-here-i-come.html' title='August, here i come!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-3635234940806097992</id><published>2011-07-11T15:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T15:13:07.634-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple joys</title><content type='html'>I’m not a big fan of firecrackers. Never been one. A strange kid I was - I always worried that the someday some rogue firecracker would land in my ear and burst there. Gawd! The misery of having a vivid imagination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways – the promise of spectacular, jaw-dropping to the floor type of fireworks took us to the Charles riverbanks 4 hours before the designated time. The time was spent watching hordes of people munching on their snacks, guzzling buckets of beer and soda, and fooling around in wacky outfits. The impossibly cute kids were also spotted and they were really the saving grace. With no food, water or voluntary entertainment, and (er..ahem…filthy port-a-potty’s) time moved slowly. And miraculously with it my mood turned from my not so gentle “l’ll burn down everything” to “yeah, I’m enjoying myself”.&lt;br /&gt;The fireworks, true to the promise, delivered. They were stupendous, out of this world and had me gaping at the whole burst of stars with an open mouth. The bestest I have ever seen. &lt;br /&gt;So when a 4-day weekend came to an end, the fireworks ensured that I slept like a happy child. Not scared of office anymore. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-3635234940806097992?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/3635234940806097992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=3635234940806097992' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/3635234940806097992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/3635234940806097992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2011/07/simple-joys.html' title='Simple joys'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-3176904210801070215</id><published>2011-06-23T13:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-23T13:26:02.261-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm alive</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wk4Lhk6wPpQ/TgN3GqWX0tI/AAAAAAAAAH8/Xvo7uH3of24/s1600/daydreaming.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621467716219556562" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wk4Lhk6wPpQ/TgN3GqWX0tI/AAAAAAAAAH8/Xvo7uH3of24/s320/daydreaming.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;just day dreaming....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-3176904210801070215?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/3176904210801070215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=3176904210801070215' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/3176904210801070215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/3176904210801070215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2011/06/im-alive.html' title='I&apos;m alive'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wk4Lhk6wPpQ/TgN3GqWX0tI/AAAAAAAAAH8/Xvo7uH3of24/s72-c/daydreaming.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-1132265906118087842</id><published>2010-07-19T14:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T14:07:00.280-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I HATE goodbyes</title><content type='html'>So after a surreal, almost dream-like two-month stay with us, my parents left for India. This is the longest that we got to stay together after I left for Hyderabad in 2002! To say I miss them would be an understatement but I will just leave it at that. I dread the thought of returning to an empty house tonight. I feel very bad for all the times I was harsh with dad for eating sweets...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just so that I focus on something and not mope around – I plan to master the hula hoop by July 25th and that’s a promise! Just to up the stakes – either I hula hoop for at least 2 minutes or cook gulab jamuns for A and K3! :D Let’s see which way the hoop swings.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-1132265906118087842?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/1132265906118087842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=1132265906118087842' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/1132265906118087842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/1132265906118087842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-hate-goodbyes.html' title='I HATE goodbyes'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-2770201658100995808</id><published>2010-07-09T16:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T16:11:22.445-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My friday fix of nostalgia</title><content type='html'>My idea of friends and friendship while in college was quite filmy, to say the least. It was hugely influenced by the movies like DCH. Being around friends for most part of the day I worried how I was going to manage after college. I remember being really upset for a couple weeks when my friends from the engineering college left Aurangabad for their homes, jobs, higher studies. Like we all do, we promised that we would stay in touch as much as we can, that there is email, phone, web-chat, etc. Similarly after MBA when we said our good-byes, we made our promises. Nobody was naïve, even then we knew that it wouldn’t be as easy as seeing each other every morning in the college corridors – but there was hope that we would catch up often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many things to take care of after college, in real world, that catching up with friends never gets listed as a priority, how unfortunate! I was just thinking about a day, ten years ago. Every single thing got reported to my best friends. Every single problem, no matter how small was discussed at length, solutions analyzed, every simple joy was shared and we used to laugh together. I still recollect a vivid memory of my friend. We were so close that we did things almost the same exact way, so much so that people thought we were twins – yeah even when she stood at least a couple inches taller than me. This friend and I wept profusely in the middle of some random class test for my dog who was soon going to live with my grandparents. That memory seems so warm yet so weird at this moment – I can’t believe it was in this life…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I have been a sucker for all things about friendship – I take pride in the fact I don’t have one single best friend but all my friends, (though the number has shrunk dangerously in the last few years) are my best friends. Such soppiness , but true. The reason for this rather melancholy post on one of the most “happy things” in life is plain green envy. Yesterday while watching a bunch of young school boys having a whale of time under the sprinklers, I missed my friends – all those right from my kindergarten days to the ones I made on the first day of my first job. Quick to make amends, I immediately promised myself to be more clued in with their current lives. Arrgh! But I still can’t get myself to orkutting or facebooking or twittering! That phase of self imposed social exile doesn’t seem to end just yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-2770201658100995808?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/2770201658100995808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=2770201658100995808' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/2770201658100995808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/2770201658100995808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/07/my-friday-fix-of-nostalgia.html' title='My friday fix of nostalgia'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-5592795214055848216</id><published>2010-07-06T16:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T16:20:27.080-04:00</updated><title type='text'>i thought i could cook pithle</title><content type='html'>When I was growing up, my contribution in the kitchen was limited to following my mom’s instructions. She would tell us “stir the curry”, “cover that vessel”, “dry the plates”, “take out the vegetables from the fridge” and you get the point. All three of us were especially gifted in carrying out her instructions verbatim. So if she asked us to turn off the gas, we used to just do that. She had to explicitly say “turn off the gas and cover the vessel”. In this sense we were “Saang kamya Balkoba”!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t remember the first edible thing I cooked. But I remember cooking Pithle – the humble chickpea flour (besan) preparation for which every Maharashtrian household will have its own recipe. My experiment began enthusiastically with a small vessel, a cup of curds and a cup of besan and ended up in a monster kadhai with 3 - 4 cups of besan, 2 cups of tamarind pulp and countless cups of water. Verdict- Absolutely inedible.  I just couldn’t understand what could go so wrong in cooking such a simple thing? The first time I tasted the stuff, it was not sour enough but there were no more curds. So I added 1 cup of tamarind pulp and it tasted too tart. To compensate I added some besan and then some more. It tasted really tasteless by now and I tried to compensate by adding some more tamarind pulp. The whole stuff was way more than what the vessel could hold. So midway I poured the gooey, drippy stuff into a bigger kadhai. And since most of it just stuck to the kadhai and was turning into a solid mass I panicked. And added more water. I had never cooked before but always observed how my mother cooked. She did not measure water, nor tasted food while cooking nor ever peered into a recipe book. But the food always tasted delicious. Sadly I didn’t realize that her confidence came from years of cooking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily for A, I more than made up after my marriage. I have cooked pithle several times and it comes quite close to my mother's version, sometime like my amma's version and sometime like my mamis'. Of course I love cooking when it’s a weekend affair. With no cook or help, the time and energy spent around planning, cooking and storing meals is enormous. Can’t help thinking about all those mothers, grandmothers, aunts, sisters, friends and occasionally uncles who cook (many a times, laboriously in the hot, poorly ventilated kitchens, often over smoke spitting chulhas) and so lovingly feed hungry, eager mouths. Annadata sukhi bhava indeed! And then I cant help thinking about farmers, the ultimate Annadata, toiling hard, themselves struggling to make ends meet and yet producing food for the entire country. How do they resist the temptation of moving off to the nearby cities and get a more certain, secure livelihood, one which is not dependent on the rain-gods?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I start off thinking about pithle and end up thinking about the plight of farmers is beyond my comprehension but I don’t feel hungry anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps: While I was re-reading my post, i remembered my grandparents in their big kitchen in Secunderapur. The vision of my mothe-baba continuously stirring a HUGE vessel of milk to make khoya for gulab-jamun while my amma bent over the gas stove, cooking the most deliciously soft puran polis moistened my eyes. Ah! Grandparents are such a blessing - can’t wait to see them back home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-5592795214055848216?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/5592795214055848216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=5592795214055848216' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5592795214055848216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5592795214055848216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-thought-i-could-cook-pithle.html' title='i thought i could cook pithle'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-5803707551668695665</id><published>2010-06-15T13:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-15T13:01:03.284-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Paisa Wasool weekend</title><content type='html'>My grandfather’s pen friend lived in Buffalo, very close to the falls. Having read her old letters with his consent (I know, it’s bad manners) several times each summer, I imagined her house to be perched right next to the Niagara falls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend we undertook an 8 hour journey to visit the great falls and came back in awe! Huge, scary, gigantic, magnificent, surreal and I ran out of superlatives. The sight is worth all the hype around it. For a moment, you forget where you are. Yes, with hundreds of noisy tourists around, the thundering falls still make you forget everything. My favorite memory of the falls is from the Maid of the Mist ride – facing the horse-shoe falls, standing as close as possible. The boat was stationary but the roaring waters played games on the gullible mind – one feels as if the boat is headed right towards the falls and you instinctly want to shout “Stop the boat!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The route from Boston to Niagara Falls is monotonously scenic – so much so that after a while you no longer notice the lovely shades of green, the neat houses that dot the greenery, beautiful lakes, ponds and quaint little towns. Not even the menacing Hudson which keeps you company for hundreds of miles together!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-5803707551668695665?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/5803707551668695665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=5803707551668695665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5803707551668695665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5803707551668695665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/06/paisa-wasool-weekend.html' title='Paisa Wasool weekend'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-1571863175322462791</id><published>2010-06-07T17:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T17:20:31.834-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Spiritually yours</title><content type='html'>I wanted to write for a very long time about something really close to my heart. I am not really sure whether it will rightly express what I want to share but I have decided to just go with the flow and not worry about what the post ultimately turns out to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though the concept of Guru-shisya is not new to Indians, the need for a spiritual guide is still looked upon with much suspicion. With so many imposters exploiting people’s beliefs and commercializing religion, it is not difficult to imagine why. I like to draw an analogy of finding the right Guru to that of finding the right family doctor. Not a super-speciality hospital – but that one person who puts your family at ease, someone you can consult anytime and confide in him/her your deepest fears without worrying that he/she will make you run from pillar to post and charge you thousands if not lakhs of rupees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our Guru is the head of our family, and is dearly loved by one and all. For some, he is a lawyer who had a thriving practice at Indore, for others he is a philosopher who has traveled the world to spread his Guru’s teachings, and for some he is a ratna- parkhi –gemologist. However for all his disciples, who are part of a family, he is simply Dada!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around May-June every year, at my Guru’s abode, the Gurupeeth, we celebrate Sri Dutta moorti sthapana utsav. The highpoint of the weeklong festivities is param pujya Dada’s address to his disciples. Every one eagerly awaits to hear what their beloved Guru has to say about the work done over the year and what advice he has for the year to come. It’s such a special occasion that everyone tries really hard to not miss being at the Gurupeeth for Dada’s ashirwachan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first memory of the Gurupeet is of the utsav in 1994 and the memory is as vivid as if it happened just yesterday. We were not Dada’s disciples then, or so we thought. My parents and I had travelled to the Gurupeeth from Parbhani which took us 12 hours by bus. We had met Dada at Parbhani for about 2 minutes and he in his usual, extremely generous manner invited us to visit the Gurupeeth for the utsav. And so we went. It was when we saw that thousands of his disciples had thronged from different parts of the country we truly realized the extent of his following. During his discourse that lasted for about 2 hours, everything he said I felt as if it was just for me. Now that I think about it, I am surprised that a 2 hour long spiritual talk in Marathi, not my strong language then, had such a powerful impression on a high-school going girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During his discourse, Dada mentioned that he was very pleased with the discipline that everybody had worked with over the year and casually mentioned that we would all experience that our efforts were appreciated. I didn’t know what he meant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was time for maha-prasad and as we were awaiting our turn, it started raining. It didn’t rain - it poured! It was a hot summer day in May and rains were totally unexpected. All the disciples were overjoyed. I was very worried because we had not carried any change of clothes as we were to return the same day. Looking at the dark clouds my mother told me that it looked difficult to catch the bus home. Another lady who overheard us told us not to worry as this was not any other rains but Krupa vrushti. And just as she said that, it stopped raining! With no damage done. My clothes just a little cold but dry.&lt;br /&gt;I looked at the skies, they were clear again just like another scorching summer day. I couldn’t believe my eyes! But the people around me didn’t give this phenomenon a second thought. It appeared as if they were expecting this to happen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That afternoon we sought to meet with Dada under quite unusual conditions. He was resting as the darshan time was over. Since we were new to the place and didn’t know any protocols, we told one of the volunteers to inform Dada that we have come from Parbhani because he told us to come. How naïve! What cheek! And lo! The volunteer returned and told us that Dada wanted to see us! The meeting itself is a blur but I still remember the happiness of meeting him. Over time we were fortunate to see him, hear his discourses, attend his programs in Aurangabad (where we moved to from Parbhani) and in a short span of 2 years he made us his disciples and took us under his wings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Guru-shishya bond, is as intimate and as divine as a mother-child bond. You can neither choose your mother nor Guru- it’s all part of the design God has for you. It was at K3’s insistence that we three requested Dada for his Upasna on May 5, 1996.  The protocol is that a would-be shishya should offer guru-dakshina in the form of flowers, a coconut, mishri and a few token coins when the Guru gives him/her Upasna or guru-mantra. However since ours was an instantaneous decision we didn’t have anything to offer. But as we know now, these things hardly matter. K2 and I will always remain grateful to K3 for ensuring that we took the plunge when it was the perfect time – when we were young enough to follow our hearts and not as worldly wise to question everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s been 14 fulfilling years and our entire family and hundreds of friends and relatives have since become our fellow guru-bandhus and guru-bhaginis. Personally we have been through several ups and downs but because of the unshakable faith that our Guru is with us every moment, at every step on our journey, neither did we get carried away with our accomplishments nor did we feel crushed with the set-backs. We are grateful for the happiness and blessings that God has showered on us and are equally grateful for choosing us to go through the difficult times without losing faith.  Every happiness has grown multifold because it’s shared with Dada and every trying situation has taught us a lesson and made us even stronger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 58th annual utsav celebrations started yesterday at the Gurupeeth. I so miss being there for the utsav. It definitely hurts that I am not there in person to see Dada and listen to his ashirvachan. But I am sure that he will send me a sign that he missed me as well!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-1571863175322462791?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/1571863175322462791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=1571863175322462791' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/1571863175322462791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/1571863175322462791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/06/spiritually-yours.html' title='Spiritually yours'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-3679851856221316603</id><published>2010-06-04T16:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T16:38:48.734-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I smell weekend</title><content type='html'>and there I warned you - nobody ever did anything productive in office between 3 to 5pm on a Friday, other than willing the clock to run a little faster. This is after all a silly blog!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suddenly realized that I don’t remember the last time I listened to a song. How can that be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a time when I recognized every Hindi film song old or latest (at the time) just moments after the music began. (Angrezi music was never something I understood or liked. I am so sorry A, I know the confession sounds totally middle-class. ;) ) I thought it was a big deal – it would be a deadly skill if I ever decided to participate in a film songs-based quiz. I told you I was ambitious.&lt;br /&gt;Well it was also big deal because we didn’t have cable television and everything I knew about latest and old songs just came from Doordarshan’s dose of Chhayageet and Chitrahaar. And we didn’t watch many movies either. But I still knew and absolutely loved so many songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow, don’t really know when I just lost touch. I was looking at the top Hindi songs of the last 12 months or so and I don’t know even half of the songs. I won’t know if it’s old or new. I dont know the picturization nor do I know which movies these songs are from. I am losing it and not liking it at all! I hardly listen to any music – not even bhajans which I am so fond of. Tch tch! *violently shaking my head* Time to make a lifestyle change. Okay, what is this post all about? Never mind - i have saved the best for last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479019007356430290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZEAuYtkmaiM/TAliwhMX59I/AAAAAAAAADs/W-O6AGeh4gE/s320/jigsaw.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the picture – isn’t it beautiful? 5 pairs of hands painstakingly, all the while ensuring that they didn’t get into someone else’s “territory” put this together in about 8 hours. How lovely!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-3679851856221316603?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/3679851856221316603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=3679851856221316603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/3679851856221316603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/3679851856221316603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-smell-weekend.html' title='I smell weekend'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZEAuYtkmaiM/TAliwhMX59I/AAAAAAAAADs/W-O6AGeh4gE/s72-c/jigsaw.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-719475915120062280</id><published>2010-06-02T17:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T09:29:30.197-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fun times</title><content type='html'>Boston doesn’t come close to San Ramon. San Ramon is a small picture perfect suburb which has a resort like charm to it. Set amidst rolling hills and grass dunes, the landscape is a wallpaper color coordinated to the last pixel. Rubbish the analogy, but I hope you get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when K2 and M treated Mom and Dad to these visual delights for almost a month, in addition to introducing Dad to a whole new world of American sugar-freedom (the sweet sound of Splenda), K3 and I were worried for Boston. And then it was only when spring arrived that we started liking it here. Boston is a historic city which has an important place in America’s freedom struggle. Monuments, churches, cemeteries, squares, parks, ships, museums, etc you would have read about in the history books are all here. But to my parents, it’s just a good-to-know thing. We weren’t sure what would be their a-ha moment in Boston.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were needlessly worried. In the last 10 days since they have been here we have had our share of divine, pure bliss moments and some more - simple things like bowling as a family, eating authentic Sambhaji-park type bhel alongside the river, running barefoot on the beach and watching the endless reruns of Sarabhai vs Sarabhai on youtube to name a few. We could have all been anywhere in the world at this moment and still could have had as much fun – Boston scores because we happen to be here at this moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(K2 –Chicago remains the greatest city ever. Hyderabad and Pune come a close second, okay?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-719475915120062280?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/719475915120062280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=719475915120062280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/719475915120062280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/719475915120062280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/06/fun-times.html' title='Fun times'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-8347170482493079899</id><published>2010-05-28T14:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T14:07:42.405-04:00</updated><title type='text'>discovering simple joys</title><content type='html'>Food is also, I think the food for soul. No, you don’t get it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s this place near my office I go most days for my lunch time fix of greens and crunch and usually stick to the safe raw veggies. Safe because I know there’s no seasoning or marinade and I don’t have to worry about what I am eating. Ever since I learnt that those innocuous looking olives and onions were marinated in chicken stock and more than a couple bones kept them company!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, with my food boundaries so well defined and with no possibility of me trying anything non-vegetarian I was wondering if I should resign myself to eating simply ghaas foos. This thought and the food made the afternoons at work seem way longer and the summer colors one shade paler. And the visions of food back home didn’t help either!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since last few weeks I had been eyeing these absolutely delicious looking dolmas – the stuffed grape leaves, neatly arranged on a tray at the salad bar. I wasn’t really sure what these were stuffed with and today to my utmost delight the bar manager tells me that it’s vegan! One more to thank god on Friday!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-8347170482493079899?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/8347170482493079899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=8347170482493079899' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/8347170482493079899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/8347170482493079899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/05/discovering-simple-joys.html' title='discovering simple joys'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-7905731598028784280</id><published>2010-05-19T14:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T14:13:16.355-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Give me my sunshine</title><content type='html'>Crossing the beautiful Charles enroute to office is the highpoint of my day. I notice that just like me, several fellow commuters greedily look onto the wonderful view craning their necks. The river in itself is not very huge and it hardly takes a couple minutes for the train to chug across. The city doesn’t really have a skyline to boast of. So the rewarding view is just the Charles river and the rows of trees along its banks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather forecast today said it would be a rainy day. And a rainy day it is. Though it’s not a downpour, it is that niggling slant drizzle where neither the umbrella protects you nor the long raincoat.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;When I looked out of the train, the usual color was replaced with different shades of grey. The river, the buildings and the clouds. Depressing, but spellbinding sight. After surviving the awfully long winter months, I got used to the spring colors within a day. It was like with a click of a button my winter memories were erased. So much so that I didn’t remember seeing the leafless trees and empty sidewalks. Sadly, it all came rushing with this dreary rainy morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully the sun comes out tomorrow and with it comes all the color.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-7905731598028784280?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/7905731598028784280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=7905731598028784280' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7905731598028784280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7905731598028784280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/05/give-me-my-sunshine.html' title='Give me my sunshine'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-6039375134284780132</id><published>2010-04-23T16:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T16:04:22.845-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You realize you are a pathetic liability to your folks when you worry about Monday on Friday evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a bow K, you are one of your kind! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-6039375134284780132?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/6039375134284780132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=6039375134284780132' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6039375134284780132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6039375134284780132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/04/you-realize-you-are-pathetic-liability.html' title=''/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-6061209716886830699</id><published>2010-03-23T17:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T17:14:06.993-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Suitably untitled</title><content type='html'>When you move to a different place you are given a chance to start a new life, give yourself a new personality and reinvent yourself. Speaks my mentor at work. I nod. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you do if you come across as the same old person you were in the old place? I ask him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It means you are not new anymore in the new place. And old habits die hard. He tells me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn! Am I stuck to being an over-cautious, easily-scared, fussing over “what will he/she think” type of person for the rest of my life! Worse still, I needed to travel more than 12,000 miles to this snow field just to know this! Ridiculous. I mean absolute waste of everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, all is not lost. On our trip to Disneyland, I was tricked into riding a roller-coaster* and I not only survived to tell the tale but also timidly rode a couple of mini roller-coasters. My folks who gave up trying to convince me to do something adventurous will rejoice in my achievement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*For people who are wondering how can somebody be tricked into riding a roller-coaster- I was not drunk. This monster was hidden in a big building with a fancy name – not revealing what it actually was! And the lovely people who knew it feigned ignorance. Not spoiling the actual details of the ride for anybody who may end up visiting Disneyland.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-6061209716886830699?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/6061209716886830699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=6061209716886830699' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6061209716886830699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6061209716886830699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/03/suitably-untitled.html' title='Suitably untitled'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-6104149121061155563</id><published>2010-03-08T17:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T17:44:47.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>in a lame attempt to break the blog-break</title><content type='html'>Five things from Hyd I am missing right now:&lt;br /&gt;1.Poli-bhaji in my lunch box&lt;br /&gt;2.The weekend trips to Jiva&lt;br /&gt;3.The beautiful necklace road/KBR park area&lt;br /&gt;4.Birla temple&lt;br /&gt;5.Fortnightly visits to amma-bothe baba and others &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five things I love in Boston:&lt;br /&gt;1.The Charles river&lt;br /&gt;2.The promise of something to explore over the weekend&lt;br /&gt;3.To come home to A and K3 &lt;br /&gt;4.The bounty of fruit and vegetables&lt;br /&gt;5.The hobby and art stores&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Idea - courtesy K2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wishing all the lovely women I know a very happy women's day!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-6104149121061155563?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/6104149121061155563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=6104149121061155563' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6104149121061155563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6104149121061155563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/03/in-lame-attempt-to-break-blog-break.html' title='in a lame attempt to break the blog-break'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-4746152306980806283</id><published>2010-01-19T16:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T17:01:24.990-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple Joys</title><content type='html'>While I am in the new year mood and still naive to think about new year resolutions, let me announce mine. This I hope improves my chances of sustaining them through the year.&lt;br /&gt;1. Draw&lt;br /&gt;2. Paint&lt;br /&gt;3. Origami&lt;br /&gt;and No Fear!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-4746152306980806283?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/4746152306980806283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=4746152306980806283' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/4746152306980806283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/4746152306980806283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/01/simple-joys.html' title='Simple Joys'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-8574551720975960238</id><published>2010-01-19T16:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-19T16:53:56.527-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Warming up in Boston</title><content type='html'>On Makara Sankranti last week and I remembered the taste of the delicious til-gul ladoo and poli my mother makes. She adds cardamom and nutmeg and peanuts as well for the rich taste. I also remember that  Makara Sankranti is all about “sankraman” or Change. This year is our year of sankraman. We took the decision that saw us leaving Hyderabad, our home for the last several years, our beloved house which we still refer to as new after 3 years of familiarity, A left his job of 10 years and our daily routines. Not mentioning the people – our dear families, friends and other acquaintances, we pretty much left behind our lives we had built in the city that grew on me. Needless to say, we shocked the junta in the process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s not easy to handle such magnitude of change and uncertainty without being nervous or feeling overwhelmed. Nervous and overwhelmed I was. Till I saw my first snow and felt it on my face. I mean this is it. The cold I was so scared of back home, the snow which I had seen only in movies or TV, the chilling wind which people warned about – everything &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; here and I am right in the middle of it. And to be honest, I like it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like it because A and I got the chance to be more adventurous, take a detour and enjoy the sights. I like it because he is with me and so are K2 and K3. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three weeks of daze. And I feel I have been here for a while till I blurt out to the cab driver “Madhapur!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS – I realize that it’s been a year since my last post. I wonder how. Especially because 2009 has been a kind year with so many joyful moments, family get-togethers, milestones. I just need to shrug off my lethargy and start writing. Soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-8574551720975960238?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/8574551720975960238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=8574551720975960238' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/8574551720975960238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/8574551720975960238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2010/01/warming-up-in-boston.html' title='Warming up in Boston'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-2875959742654544949</id><published>2009-01-29T09:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T09:26:17.502-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Say cheese!</title><content type='html'>I am looking at our Rajasthan pictures and trying to relive the wonderful time we had. Looking at the pictures I am amazed how photogenic my family is! Aai and baba- very natural, they don’t need to do much to look good on camera. Then there is A who is really handsome (ahem..I don’t tell him this often), looks just as handome in his photos. K2 and K3 look mindblowingly beautiful. Even if they are having a bad hair day or are suffering from the so-called burst of pimples on their faces- the pictures look glorious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there’s me. I am quite disappointed at how my pictures don’t do enough justice to me. tch..tch..There are a few pictures of mine, where I am looking at the camera with a scarf covering my face. There are countless pictures where everybody is smiling and looking at the camera and I have closed my eyes or I am looking sideways. Why! I wonder. I mean if K2 and K3 were to be in the arctic region and somebody would want to click their picture, I am sure they would remove their scarves, would even consider removing the sweaters and pose like models.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some time back we had an official photo shoot at work. The photographer had to keep clicking for a full 5 min before I could get everything right. That is keeping the eyes open, look at the camera and smile. Three things at the same time. Sadly, while I was preoccupied with the three step process, I forgot to look good! So my official profile photo at work looks as if somebody has put a gun to my head and told me a joke. Arrgh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Returning to our trip pictures, it’s indeed a sad affair. In all my pictures I haven’t shown off the pretty dresses I wore- it’s only my red sweater and blue scarf which hogged the limelight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-2875959742654544949?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/2875959742654544949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=2875959742654544949' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/2875959742654544949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/2875959742654544949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2009/01/say-cheese.html' title='Say cheese!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-5274476281812776349</id><published>2009-01-19T09:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T09:13:39.931-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Total Gyaan</title><content type='html'>Sometimes the best advice we give to people is what applies best to us.&lt;br /&gt;I realized this recently when my only advice to everybody around me has been “Relax!”, “That’s alright- don’t fret” and the like. I realized I was the one who badly needs to use my advice. My single point resolution this year is to live in the moment and to relax. Breathe easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Towards the end of last year, A and I happened to talk to Dada for about 15 minutes for which we are so grateful. He told us that 90% of population our age is stressed. And most of the times, we are stressed at work because we are not competent enough. So acquiring skills and honing our skill set on a regular basis will reduce our stress level. Not worrying about it.&lt;br /&gt;The second thing he emphasized was time management and not wasting any time. He said when you waste time, your mind carries the guilt and in turns feels stressed. So, don’t waste time. &lt;br /&gt;Again, this is my piece of advice to myself.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Sunday Times Life-Jan 18, 2009 yesterday had a very interesting and inspiring article on “first steps” towards making a difference. The article talked about some really creative and practical ideas which we will all wonder why we didn’t think of earlier?&lt;br /&gt;The coolest one I thought was about this guy who thought about improving literacy by putting same language subtitles on movies. Such a simple idea but how effective it will be in a country like ours with movie buffs spread across everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;My baby step would be to maintain the “Daily Dump”- putting all bio-degradable waste into an earthen pot. Let’s see my success rate.&lt;br /&gt;K3, a couple of years back, took time out of her hectic schedule as a fresh programmer, taught her maid’s daughter. I am sure she would have been an excellent teacher to the kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If things are sustained on a long term basis, there is nothing that can’t be done. It’s up to us to decide what we want to build. I will share a story I had read years ago in the RD. There was long winding route to the top of a hill. In springtime, from the top one could see rows and rows of multi colored daffodils across the valley. There was not an inch of barren earth that met the eye. It was the magic of an old woman, who had planted the bulbs over the years to turn the place into a riot of color. When visitors, mesmerized by the spectacular sight, asked her how she did it, her answer was simple and profound. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“One bulb at a time.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-5274476281812776349?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/5274476281812776349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=5274476281812776349' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5274476281812776349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5274476281812776349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2009/01/total-gyaan.html' title='Total Gyaan'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-5632126014027660014</id><published>2008-12-31T03:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T03:45:03.057-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rajasthan trip in bullet points</title><content type='html'>The trip to Rajasthan which we had so dearly anticipated for a couple of months now, finally happened and got over really soon. Though the trip looked really hectic on paper, fortunately we could cover all those places and enjoy the sightseeing. Thanks to the enthusiastic bunch of travelers. &lt;br /&gt;We started from Pune and visited Mount Abu, Udaipur, Ajmer, Pushkar and Jaipur. Much to K2 and K3’s irritation, none of these places have any desert area and so the Rajasthan we visited, in a way was very different from what we saw in movies.&lt;br /&gt;Mount Abu was cold and I wouldn’t have survived without the room heaters. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mount Abu-&lt;br /&gt;• A typical hill station&lt;br /&gt;• A lovely 24 km drive from Abu Road&lt;br /&gt;• Very cold&lt;br /&gt;• Delwada jain temples – spectacular, jaw-dropping carvings&lt;br /&gt;• Nakki lake – good time pass, fair like atmosphere surrounding the lake&lt;br /&gt;• Tasty marwadi food&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Udaipur&lt;br /&gt;• Majestic fort at Kumbhalgarh-Maharana Pratap’s birthplace (we wasted a lot of time reaching there but the view of the fort was rewarding). Watched dance performances by Raja Radha Reddy and their troupe.&lt;br /&gt;• Nathdwara-Lord Krishna’s temple- endearing idols of Shrinathji&lt;br /&gt;• Udaipur City Palace- The abode of Mewad dynasty rulers for about 23 generations. Very beautiful mirror work and paintings done one on the palace walls.&lt;br /&gt;The Mewad kings moved here from Chittor as they lost every battle fought from Chittor. The current Mewad king, Maharaja Arvindsinghji Mewad also stays in one portion of the palace.&lt;br /&gt;• Moti magri- Maharana Pratap’s memorial&lt;br /&gt;• Fateh sagar- one of the several lakes in and around Udaipur&lt;br /&gt;• Jagdeesh temple- one of the oldest temples in North India. &lt;br /&gt;• Sahelion ki badi – nothing much to write home except that it was built for the queen’s girl friends.&lt;br /&gt;• Shilpgram- A 12 month fair where local craftsmen display and sell their fare. We had an unexpected treat awaiting us here- live performances by various folk artists from around the country at the Shilpgram annual festival– simply superb!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ajmer&lt;br /&gt;• The dargah of the world famous sufi saint, Garib Nawaz Khwaja Moinuddin Chisti. Garib Nawaz is said to be very kind and is very popular among believers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pushkar&lt;br /&gt;• Brahma temple -  one of it’s kind in the world. &lt;br /&gt;• Pushkar sarovar – the birthplace of goddess Gayatri. The kund is supposed to be since the Satyuga days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jaipur&lt;br /&gt;• Very well planned city, especially the new part.&lt;br /&gt;• Pink City- the old city is painted pink. There’s a law that fines anybody who paints the exterior of his house/shop in any color other than pink!&lt;br /&gt;• Birla temple- Laxmi Narayan- out of this world experience. Must visit site.&lt;br /&gt;• Jaipur City Palace- The Jaipur kings built this palace and moved here from Amer- the old capital city. It is the current abode of Maharaja Bhawani Singh.&lt;br /&gt;• Jantar Mantar- awe inspiring gadgetry built by Jaisingh- the fist king of Jaipur, himself a well renowned astrologer. This is the biggest among the 5 built by Jaisingh.&lt;br /&gt;• Amer fort- grand! Mansingh built this fort- painstaking attention to detail. Exquisite carvings, mirror work and paintings adorn the walls, floors and ceilings.&lt;br /&gt;• Jaigarh fort – World’s biggest canon- the Jaivan is housed here.&lt;br /&gt;• Jal Mahal&lt;br /&gt;• Hawa Mahal – Built especially for the queens folk to watch the processions of the kings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ambaji temple (Rajasthan)&lt;br /&gt;Mankambeshwar temple (Sirohi)- Saw peacocks, monkeys, parrots and mongoose! Any other animal and I would have freaked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew! Anything I have missed out here must be because of my occasional catnap!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-5632126014027660014?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/5632126014027660014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=5632126014027660014' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5632126014027660014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5632126014027660014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/12/rajasthan-trip-in-bullet-points.html' title='Rajasthan trip in bullet points'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-2903158063333027681</id><published>2008-12-18T08:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T08:46:53.745-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Enough is enough</title><content type='html'>Seriously, seeing this "enough is enough against terror" caption against the backdrop of the burning dome of Taj Mahal Hotel with meaningless news reporting is enough. Enough of this inane blabbering!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s been three weeks since the terrorist attacks in Mumbai. Those 60 hours were the most harrowing for so many people. People whose loved ones were involved, people whose places to hang-out were burning and the majority of us for whom the idea of being safe in our homes was dead. When I am talking about myself I know I am talking about several thousand people like me who were scared, stunned, ashamed, angry and terrorized. The 60 hours have changed a lot of how we looked at several things. Enough of this mindless, barbaric terror!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am deeply anguished by so many things, the callous politicians, their insensitive remarks, the immaturity of our media and the sorry state of our entire system. Ministers were sacked, but do we have good politicians to fill in these places? Each one makes the previous one look better. The statements they make on air are ridiculous and bile-rising. I cannot read newspapers or watch news channels these days without getting extremely angry first and then disturbed. How can a country of one billion be such a soft state? How dare terrorists come on our land and kill our brothers and sisters and get away with it. Or worse still get into the prisons where they are fed off tax-payer’s money. Enough of this anybody can come and kill Indians non-sense!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart goes to all victims of terror who left behind scarred families. I sincerely hope and earnestly pray that we do not lose the lesson and the memory of our fellow countrymen who lost their lives, the brave men and women who died protecting us. Enough of this losing precious lives..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need something more and tangible than to hope and pray, I know. But right now I am still too numb to think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-2903158063333027681?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/2903158063333027681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=2903158063333027681' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/2903158063333027681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/2903158063333027681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/12/enough-is-enough.html' title='Enough is enough'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-2317922174349895031</id><published>2008-11-04T05:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T07:32:49.265-05:00</updated><title type='text'>* ! * ! * Let's wish the birthday boy * ! * ! *</title><content type='html'>He is the funniest guy I have ever known.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is somebody the teachers at my school were scared of- because he would ask them why they gave so much homework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asks me/K2/K3 to sleep during exam time and not worry about the last minute revision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He always eats not-so-tasty stuff from our plates without anybody noticing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He scolds me/K2/K3 by saying “Be careful! I will tell your mom!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He allows us to play to our heart’s content whenever/wherever we vacation- without worrying about schedules.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is the best driver I can rely on anytime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He laughs at Kader Khan/ Amrish Puri/Johnny Lever jokes when all we can do is roll our eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He listens to all my and K2/K3’s instructions- but just listens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He reminds me of chores I want to get done and love to forget. (e.g. Get your ration card done.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is my banker of last resort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is my dad and the coolest one on the job!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday baba!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ps: The post title is meant to be read as confetti.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-2317922174349895031?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/2317922174349895031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=2317922174349895031' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/2317922174349895031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/2317922174349895031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/11/lets-wish-birthday-boy.html' title='* ! * ! * Let&apos;s wish the birthday boy * ! * ! *'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-7942779226726699145</id><published>2008-10-29T07:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T07:28:16.743-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Randomly random</title><content type='html'>Years ago I read a book where the author shares a wonderful tip to de-stress. Close your eyes and imagine yourself in a place with something/someone you feel protected with and breathe deeply for 10 minutes. The author in that book always imagines herself in a huge cake because she is a baker. I close my eyes and imagine being surrounded by the beautiful people I love so much and imagine us all vacationing on a fabulous, pristine beach. Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Festivals have this effect on me. I turn nostalgic and with such intensity that nothing in the present holds any charm. I don’t know when/how I will learn the bliss of living in the moment. The word “bliss” reminds me of this book I happened to read on my trip to Pune last month. The book “Krishna- the god who lived like a man”, it came with strong recommendation from my mom and K3. I knew it would be an interesting read looking at the preface and the translator’s note. The book is based on the unusual concept of what would have transpired in Lord Krishna’s mind while he was breathing his last in this mortal world. Because I did not want to spoil my vacation by getting too involved in a book, I read this book with a strange detachment. Still, the book made its presence felt. If you are patient enough to clean out the fluff, the book has precious little gems in unlikely places. Since the post was not meant to be a book review and since K2 and A are yet to read the book, I will restrain myself. I know K2 will like the book, but I am not so sure about A. Out of curiosity I googled for this book and came to know that film stars had come for the book launch. I know the translator has written filmi stuff before, but she could have sure sought someone better than film stars!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A and I have diametrically opposite taste in books and movies. That said I am glad to observe that we have recently started to like similar movies with a success rate of 25%. Great compatibility, I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I digressed- apologies. One thing that the book emphasizes was that Krishna accepts everything that we offer to him- be it good or bad or whatever. One particular moment in the book which I felt was very poignant is when the queen Gandhari curses Krishna that he would witness the downfall of his entire Yadava clan- his children, grandchildren and all and then suffer before dying alone- Krishna simply raises his hand and says “Tathastu”- so be it. The entire paragraph has this strange calm feel about it. It is so simple- he is the Lord because he accepts everything. I know I will think about this piece for some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ps: I have used the word "book" so many times-rusty blogging skills. And the title looks so utterly random. I have to start asking people for suggestions I guess.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-7942779226726699145?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/7942779226726699145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=7942779226726699145' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7942779226726699145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7942779226726699145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/10/randomly-random.html' title='Randomly random'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-6703919092331605311</id><published>2008-10-13T07:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T07:07:54.830-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Warm up</title><content type='html'>One thing I really wish I should have learned from my mom is her steely resolve and gritty determination. If I had inherited even an ounce of what she has I would have reached the moon by now. Similarly, I should have learned how to love your job from my father. To see the daily grind he goes through without expecting much from his bosses is eye opening for the forever cribber in me. This sudden introspection is because of my infrequent blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the promises I made about blogging every month no matter what lay broken. All this because of the usual lame excuse- work takes so much time that it’s tiring to type out the post. Aargh! Such things no longer make me angry at myself- which is bad news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;August was..well…I strain to remember.&lt;br /&gt;A lovely weekend trip to Secunderapur.&lt;br /&gt;Gosh! I got my promotion at work. Totally unexpected and absolutely flattering. And a lot of work my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;September- Ganpati!! Yay! Gauri- again yay!&lt;br /&gt;And a lot of sulking and moping over A’s absence.&lt;br /&gt;A week’s trip home to mom and dad to recharge my batteries- which did not improve my feelings about going to office on Mondays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This post is my way of testing how well I can type with one finger. The right hand oh so hurts. The left hand knows “the squeaking wheel gets the oil” and has promptly stared hurting.&lt;br /&gt;I have no sympathies for these lazy bones-not when they have so much work to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-6703919092331605311?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/6703919092331605311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=6703919092331605311' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6703919092331605311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6703919092331605311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/10/warm-up.html' title='Warm up'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-4836155706359523364</id><published>2008-07-08T08:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T08:54:02.316-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hair's a funny story</title><content type='html'>I had washed my hair in the morning and despite 100 attempts to comb them and try to keep it in place, my hair was unmanageable. I gave up and decided okay, this is it. I am not trying anymore. Post 5 minutes on my office floor I bumped into this colleague. She wanted to ask “K, you didn’t come that day?” except it came out as “K, you didn’t comb your hair today?”&lt;br /&gt;Obviously she was shocked at the state of my hair and it was on her mind. She was terribly embarrassed at her question. But when I started laughing, she joined too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who see me, see my hair first. People have bad hair days; I have my good hair days.&lt;br /&gt;When I get up in the morning, I can easily scare anybody with my hair.&lt;br /&gt;When I come home after having a haircut, A’s dad asks me “Was the parlor closed? You didn’t get the haircut?&lt;br /&gt;You still don’t get the picture? (I won’t post one here. Thank you.)&lt;br /&gt;(But all said and done, I luurve my thick curls. :))&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-4836155706359523364?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/4836155706359523364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=4836155706359523364' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/4836155706359523364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/4836155706359523364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/07/hairs-funny-story.html' title='Hair&apos;s a funny story'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-4589031683255158014</id><published>2008-07-03T10:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T10:02:23.742-04:00</updated><title type='text'>April!</title><content type='html'>It’s very sad- but I absolutely don’t remember the month of April. But I remember I saw this beautiful tree in full bloom. They are called April flowers. I wish I could have clicked a picture…&lt;br /&gt;Thank God I blogged about my nephews’ visit already. Man! It was such a great time we had.And I have learned a lesson through this time travel. Stories get lost if you don’t write them immediately. I hope I don’t lose the lesson.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-4589031683255158014?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/4589031683255158014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=4589031683255158014' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/4589031683255158014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/4589031683255158014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/07/april.html' title='April!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-6203329588923885191</id><published>2008-07-03T09:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T01:09:46.197-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Going back to May</title><content type='html'>Sadly, I don’t remember much of May. It was hot, but still bearable. Now that I am in June, I don’t really think it was that bad in Hyd. But it was hellish-hot in the interior Maharashtra region where my dad works. I used to check the temperature of the place he works online and shudder at how hot it would be there and my dad would tell me over phone “its alright-not that much heat.” Ouch! I felt so guilty sitting in this super cool, AC office and complaining to the operations about the temperatures when my dad and many people like him were out in scorching sun. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a super short trip to Parner- I have promised myself to visit Parner as often as I can. Dada, I need your help in keeping my promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The highlight of May was attending the Art of Living course. I wanted to do the AOL course for the last 7 years and I am glad I finally did it. I want to thank KK for this. At the risk of being thought of as un-cool and weird, I would say the entire art of living experience was superb. I would just want to be more regular in doing the exercises they taught us there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May saw my dear sister K2’s birthday. She is the life of any party, the best friend you can make, the warm sunshine on a gray winter morning, the loveliest person one can meet and the bestest sister (K3, you too!) I could have! I miss you tons and I am mighty proud of what you have accomplished. Many happy returns of the day sweetie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May also saw my grandparents celebrate their wedding anniversary! May we get to spend more time with them. May God bless them with happiness, good health and lots of love around. Keep smiling Amma - Mothe Baba!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, well, I did not want to understate another milestone when I said that AOL was the highlight of the month. A and I completed 3 years of companionship. The more I know A, the more I realize that I have a long way to go to deserve him. He is the testimony to my belief that God loves me dearly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A has not changed one bit from the person I first met in 2004 and fell in love with. I will resist my terrible temptation to share with you all the little stories which tell of A’s sweetness, because I have suddenly become superstitious- not risking jinx and stuff. :)&lt;br /&gt;Dear A, wishin you a very happy wedding anniversary and thank you for everything! And as I love to say- the best is yet to be!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-6203329588923885191?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/6203329588923885191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=6203329588923885191' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6203329588923885191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6203329588923885191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/07/sadly-i-dont-remember-much-of-may.html' title='Going back to May'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-7836561932028401187</id><published>2008-07-03T09:56:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T10:17:22.429-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Some more June</title><content type='html'>The first half of June, I almost spent every free minute gazing at the blue-grey skies. Whenever I keep looking at the skies at stretch- say for 10 minutes, I lose track of where I am, what I am doing, etc. I experience such calm and peace that I cannot describe in words. I feel completely overwhelmed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first half of June was a little stressful at work (the stress was nothing compared to that during December to April); it was not just because of work. The yearly ritual which sees people getting frustrated and even turning suicidal or murderous, called performance appraisal; it got completed by mid June. I am going to be diplomatic about my own ideas about my appraisal. My only expectation is to see my pay hike higher than the inflation or else we are damned with a 20 year floating rate home loan. Sigh. It was scary when a dear friend even wished me luck and told me not to ration A’s food if the interest rates grow any higher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My evenings (post 10 pm) have become so much more exciting with the glass paints and the million ideas zooming in my head. Everywhere I look, I see a pattern I MUST paint on glass. God, thank you for all these ideas but also give me the time to paint and the money to buy all the best glass colors and glass items one could ever buy. It’s funny but when I am painting I don’t think about anything in the world. Not even my hurting hand which kept me away from blogging. Not that I am a good painter, it’s just that I love colors and brushes and paper and painting so much. Again, thank you God and please make me a better painter than what I am today…I can’t bear poor A trying to praise my “art work” and falling short of words. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw, June 15 was my parents’ wedding anniversary. Every good thing I do, see, appreciate or say is because of them. They are such simple people that buying gifts for them is a very difficult task. Here’s wishing them a very happy anniversary. May dear God bless them with health, peace of mind and happiness, forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-7836561932028401187?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/7836561932028401187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=7836561932028401187' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7836561932028401187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7836561932028401187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/07/some-more-june.html' title='Some more June'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-1531143118119470980</id><published>2008-07-03T09:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T10:16:43.881-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Let's start with June!</title><content type='html'>Though I have not posted anything in the past couple of months, I have read such wonderful blogs. So I was pretty much in the blogosphere, but yeah, I neglected my own old blog. Never once did I fear that I would not write again and completely abandon my blog, and I am really proud of myself for this! I have just come from a cool workshop where they taught us that a little self praise actually does a whole lot of good. So, please don’t start forming opinions about me being self-centric or narcissist. Yeah- I know the name of my blog!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me just make up for all those months that went by without me blogging. Were they fun? Yes! They were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;June, I love June. Because it brings with it the so-eagerly-awaited rains. And because schools reopen in June and till date (a lot of years after finishing school) I still get excited at the thought of buying new textbooks, notebooks and other paraphernalia needed to going back to school. I see I have used the word “school” perhaps a little too much- but I am rusty from staying away for long, from the blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I almost forgot! My birthday is in June. :) So, while the whole football crazy world was crazy about Sunday for some other reason, yours truly made sure that she got her birthday gifts as per her list. A doesn’t believe in surprise gifts and I can only write a list to help him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-1531143118119470980?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/1531143118119470980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=1531143118119470980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/1531143118119470980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/1531143118119470980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/07/lets-start-with-june.html' title='Let&apos;s start with June!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-2366030200928300329</id><published>2008-04-15T08:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T08:14:49.177-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I wont give up blogging even if I am the only one reading my blog</title><content type='html'>I am sad that so many stories got lost in my head without ever making it to the blog.  Really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just recovering from the after effects of my nephews’ visit, of course the good ones! The kids Sh and As, aged 6 and 1 are amazing! Just as kids their age are supposed to be.  Smiling, sweet, innocent and full of energy!  Saying bye to them was really difficult, especially because they will have no memories of the time you spent with them till their next visit.  We had visited  A’s brother 2 years ago and had a gala time with Sh. When I met Sh this time and asked him if he remembers anything, he looked at me and gave his brilliant smile and said “No! I have absolutely zero memories!” Oops. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Given that I am pretty Monica-isque when it comes to cleaning the house and straightening things, etc, I got a little hyper initially. I kept on picking toys, bits of paper, food, etc  after the kids, switching off the lights and fans, wiping the spilt water/milk/juice, scraping off the chocolate from the fridge door, etc.  By the first day I was like-what the heck! I am missing out all the fun. I officially joined the gang and made as much mess as my nerves could stand. :)&lt;br /&gt;I wish Sh and As soon make another trip with their parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw, Hyderabad now boasts a fabulous airport! A must visit for all those people who are worried about the move from the current airport to the new one. Folks, the increase in distance is worth it! I hope the airport is maintained and the toilets are kept clean. I am already half expecting dirty brown rivulets of betel leaf spits running on the sidewalls. Eeeks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-2366030200928300329?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/2366030200928300329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=2366030200928300329' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/2366030200928300329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/2366030200928300329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-wont-give-up-blogging-even-if-i-am.html' title='I wont give up blogging even if I am the only one reading my blog'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-5459863452001755612</id><published>2008-01-10T06:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T06:25:47.212-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year wish list</title><content type='html'>Putting it all behind you and move on,&lt;br /&gt;The successes which saw you beam with pride,&lt;br /&gt;The failures which left you lonesome and shaken,&lt;br /&gt;The moments of happiness, the peals of laughter,&lt;br /&gt;The tears, anxieties, fears and petty matter,&lt;br /&gt;Putting it all behind you and move on,&lt;br /&gt;Know the bliss of traveling light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish to be a light-traveler this year.&lt;br /&gt;I want to really shed off all the baggage I have been carrying, knowingly-unknowingly, over the years.&lt;br /&gt;May I start to look at the bigger picture instead of getting lost in unnecessary details.&lt;br /&gt;May I be able to apply the 80-20 principle in my life.&lt;br /&gt;May I learn to turn inwards for answers.&lt;br /&gt;May this be the year where I learn to live in the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this is my wish list, very intangible that way, but it would be interesting to see how much progress I make with it this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Thank god for all the meetings in office which give me time to think uninterrupted and philosophize about life.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-5459863452001755612?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/5459863452001755612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=5459863452001755612' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5459863452001755612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5459863452001755612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/01/new-year-wish-list.html' title='New Year wish list'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-8295079707585594643</id><published>2008-01-10T03:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T06:08:29.901-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Strength of character</title><content type='html'>There was a nice email forward I had read couple of years ago. It was about how different people react to adversity. So, there was a bright orange carrot, a perfect egg and a coffee bean. Each one looked stunning in color and shape. Each one was then put into a pot of boiling water. The carrot became soft, and broke into pieces. The egg shell cracked and its innards hardened. With the coffee bean, something special happened. The bean gave a rich, delicious aroma to the boiling water instead.&lt;br /&gt;Like these guys there are three kinds of people. The first ones just crush under difficult conditions. The second ones become bitter with experience; they just harden and lose their fresh, sensitive self. The third ones are coffee beans which with their quiet resilience make the most of things even in the most trying times. They win admirers wherever they go and people look upon them as shining examples of courage and strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this little story is for my precious coffee bean. Coffee bean, you rock!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps: My coffee bean is a very modest person and would'nt want to be named.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-8295079707585594643?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/8295079707585594643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=8295079707585594643' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/8295079707585594643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/8295079707585594643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2008/01/strength-of-character.html' title='Strength of character'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-1070438110680264297</id><published>2007-12-10T07:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T07:37:52.349-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No title...I give up</title><content type='html'>I had been planning to blow up A's money on shoes and sandals (for me of course). So, after planning for a full week about what footwear to buy and all, I suddenly have a change of mind, right when we were standing in front of the shop. Strange things, a Sunday evening can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I salvaged whatever little of the Sunday that was left with a wonderful dinner. We had arhar ki daal (udid in Marathi), beet-koshimbir and roasted french beans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw, I have started reading this fascinating book, Swami Vivekananda-the living Vedanta by Chaturvedi Badrinath. People who admire Swami will find wonderful little gems about him and will start looking at the work he did in a different light. For people who havent read much about this Patriot Saint, this is a good place to start.I can already imagine how my mother will love to read this book. My mom is an ardent fan of Swami Vivekananda, so much that she would often threaten us (when we did not behave) that she would leave us for Kanyakumari and join the Mutt. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-1070438110680264297?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/1070438110680264297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=1070438110680264297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/1070438110680264297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/1070438110680264297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/12/no-titlei-give-up_10.html' title='No title...I give up'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-7862855881798709061</id><published>2007-12-10T03:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T03:28:59.344-05:00</updated><title type='text'>December</title><content type='html'>December scares me, very much like the performance appraisal.&lt;br /&gt;December is melancholy.&lt;br /&gt;December reminds me of an old man in flowing robes and a white beard.&lt;br /&gt;December is a pile of pending work to be completed before the new year.&lt;br /&gt;December means a whole year has passed by and you try to remember where did the other 11 months go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But December is also a long Xmas-New Year "happy holidays" week.&lt;br /&gt;December is a dear cousin's birthday.&lt;br /&gt;December is the lovely time of blue-skies here.&lt;br /&gt;December is also the season of dinkache-ladoo.&lt;br /&gt;The last thing is reason enough to love the 12th month. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-7862855881798709061?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/7862855881798709061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=7862855881798709061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7862855881798709061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7862855881798709061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/12/december.html' title='December'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-3796343023939876368</id><published>2007-11-20T06:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T06:59:20.421-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In memorium</title><content type='html'>I remember you as a tiny baby dressed in a powder blue frock on your first Diwali.&lt;br /&gt;Then I remember you as an extremely naughty school girl who played all kinds of pranks and took great interest in cooking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last I saw you was when you were in 6th standard, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow things turned really terrible for you, your parents separated after years of hostility, you faced abuse. You had to leave school to support yourself. You lost your childhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the years, we just forgot all about you. Until few years ago, when I heard that you had married somebody. I had sincerely prayed for your happiness. I was very sure that God will bless you with everything that you had missed out on. Love, laughter, a carefree life and above all a wonderful family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas, it was not to be. I could not believe my ears when I heard that you were no more...My stomach was in knots. The memories I had came rushing by. I wept. I wept with guilt and shame. I wept for the lost life, the lost opportunity to hold your hand and help you live a better life. The lost opportunity to tell you that you were loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Sh., if only I could tell you how much I regret not finding out what happened to you...not being there when you would have wept alone. Your parents shirked their responsibility, and we, your blood relations failed you too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest in peace little sister and forgive us if you can.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-3796343023939876368?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/3796343023939876368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=3796343023939876368' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/3796343023939876368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/3796343023939876368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/11/in-memorium.html' title='In memorium'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-6064776886724462836</id><published>2007-10-29T10:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T23:39:03.392-04:00</updated><title type='text'>No-context-at-all. No relevance either!</title><content type='html'>I checked my eyes after almost two years and needed to change my glasses. As always I am very bad at making up my mind. This gave the optometrist and the opthalmologist and me a lot of heart-burn. I ended up making 3 trips to these people and spending a fortune on a pair of glasses which I wore for just 6 days.I would have sulked about it for longer time if not for the doctor...because in this whole exercise I met this doctor who is just as good as a doctor should be! Very calm, Dr. B exudes warmth and confidence that puts the patient at ease. I hope I dont need to visit him with any problems (not till the next two years!), I am recommending him to all my friends and family in Hyderabad. Talk abut word-of-mouth publicity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People! If you havent tried roasting/searing veggies on a girdle or in a microwave, please go ahead. Carrots, beans, onions, garlic, cauliflower, capsicum, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, potatoes and any whichever vegetable you can think of tastes divinely sweet in this avtaar. Yup, I am reading a lot of food blogs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I succeeded in completing the Rubik's Cube...all sides. A's an expert at that and does it in 1-1.5 minutes. I spent an entire morning yesterday and when I was done, I couldnt believe I did it! All these years I could just complete one side. A couple of weeks before his travel, A spent a lot of time teaching me the basic steps. With loads of patience. I told you he's a gem!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-6064776886724462836?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/6064776886724462836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=6064776886724462836' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6064776886724462836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6064776886724462836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/10/no-context-at-all-no-relevance-either.html' title='No-context-at-all. No relevance either!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-1511050965033112417</id><published>2007-10-23T09:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T10:00:05.775-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Some things never change.</title><content type='html'>Like Chitale's bakharwadi. Thank God for that! Yesterday when a friend from his trip home got me a fistful of yummy bakharwadis, I could have slipped on my drool! :D And they tasted just the same, as I have tasted over the years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-1511050965033112417?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/1511050965033112417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=1511050965033112417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/1511050965033112417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/1511050965033112417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/10/some-things-never-change.html' title='Some things never change.'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-5376341282422895355</id><published>2007-10-23T09:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T09:55:04.457-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A very happy birthday!</title><content type='html'>To my beloved sister, the baby of our family, K3. You amazed me years ago with your first word-my name.You still amaze us all with your child-like innocence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many many happy returns of the day! May God bless you with "bestest" of the best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-5376341282422895355?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/5376341282422895355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=5376341282422895355' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5376341282422895355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5376341282422895355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/10/very-happy-birthday.html' title='A very happy birthday!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-4460207815176278794</id><published>2007-10-17T07:50:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T07:54:12.005-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shyam piyaa mori...rang de chunariya...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Jal se patla kaun hai?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Kaun bhoomi se bhaari?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Kaun agan se tej hai?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Kaun kaajal se kaari?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jal se patla gyaan hai,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Paap bhoomi se bhaari.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Krodh agan se tej hai,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Kalank kaajal se kaari.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I have been playing and replaying this song in my head since yesterday morning and everytime I wonder...how true!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-4460207815176278794?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/4460207815176278794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=4460207815176278794' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/4460207815176278794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/4460207815176278794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/10/shyam-piyaa-morirang-de-chunariya_17.html' title='Shyam piyaa mori...rang de chunariya...'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-7235920555948831888</id><published>2007-10-15T06:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T06:26:22.849-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Apologies!</title><content type='html'>To my dear friends C and P. For promising to watch a movie (LCMD), for being there one hour before the show time and then chickening out at the last minute because it was too crowded. I am so sorry friends...since you know me and my love for melodramatic movies, I hope you will forgive this one-offish incident. Even I dont know I was capable of such unpredictable behaviour.&lt;br /&gt;C, please keep that trip to Q-Mart on.&lt;br /&gt;P, now instead of you treating me for your latest possession, let me treat you sometime please.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-7235920555948831888?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/7235920555948831888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=7235920555948831888' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7235920555948831888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7235920555948831888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/10/apologies.html' title='Apologies!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-4835835993831658385</id><published>2007-10-12T07:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T08:54:57.051-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday afternoon -don't feel like working-so the post</title><content type='html'>I dont know if anybody will ever read this post after reading the title. I really wanted a crisp title but I have already spent the entire day's worth of creativity while cooking this morning. Yeah, a week of cooking, with limited culinary capabilities can leave you exhausted. Our cook awaits a red-carpet welcome when she comes after a fortnight tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the last couple of months I havent blogged as much as i wanted to. With so much bloggable material vrooming in my head, some really funny, some quite poignant, it's a pity indeed that I didnt blog. Pity because the stories no longer hold any appeal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now when I look back I wonder why I didnt feel like blogging? I guess it's (or was) a phase. I like what a friend said, "lot of cobwebs" to clean explaining his sporadic blogging. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking about me, I am completely dazed at the speed with which time has passed till now and how I havent done even 1/10th of what I want to do. I in fact need to clear my thoughts about what I want to do. I hope you understand that my situation is exactly similar to a developer who is coding without the functional or technical specs. ( Borrowed this from A who uses this analogy quite often.) So blogging seemed like a waste of time. But I wasnt doing anything else when I was not blogging (except reading other blogs). So while I am deciding what I should do, blogging doesnt look that bad an idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont know if I have mentioned this, but now my office cube is just next to the window. I get to see the sky stretched above, with no structure to obstruct my view. And if I am lucky I even get to see a tiny black bird sitting on the window pane. I havent lost my mind, it's just the concrete jungle that has robbed us of such simple joys. Hmm...I so suck at philosophy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-4835835993831658385?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/4835835993831658385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=4835835993831658385' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/4835835993831658385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/4835835993831658385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/10/friday-afternoon-so-dont-feel-like.html' title='Friday afternoon -don&apos;t feel like working-so the post'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-5295794438239162037</id><published>2007-10-12T07:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T07:28:20.591-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Absolute junk!</title><content type='html'>A bag of Lays and a pack of Good-day biscuits. In just 10 minutes. Just 2 hours post lunch time.&lt;br /&gt;I think I am getting addicted to junk food. I cant stop myself from reaching out that one lame wafer sticking to the pack! God! I need help.&lt;br /&gt;On the same note, I think I am watching a lot of TV these days. Thanks to Tata Sky, but no thanks! It was painfully evident last night when I could not watch TV for some reason and I was happy to just hear the TV in the background!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-5295794438239162037?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/5295794438239162037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=5295794438239162037' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5295794438239162037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5295794438239162037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/10/absolute-junk.html' title='Absolute junk!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-489257657028768900</id><published>2007-10-11T07:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-11T07:44:13.515-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Strings-Loud and Live</title><content type='html'>I had never been to a concert where the crowd is swaying wildly to the music and you find yourself singing to every song you had not bothered to hum before. A and I had been to Strings’ concert last weekend and we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. It would be fun if we get to do this more often.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-489257657028768900?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/489257657028768900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=489257657028768900' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/489257657028768900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/489257657028768900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/10/strings-loud-and-live.html' title='Strings-Loud and Live'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-7200840505724729811</id><published>2007-09-11T10:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T12:38:29.221-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend, Rains, not again.</title><content type='html'>Last few weeks have been extremely tense and anxious for us Hyderabadis (just a generic term used for everyone who is living in Hyderabad, no regionalism/groupism please).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Initially it was the snarling traffic that worried us. Because of the numerous flyover constructions, road widening and other government department (water board, telephone office or some other) work going on, there was hardly any place for commuters. Going to office and going home in the evenings was a hair-raising experience. This was the story about the main roads and major business areas in the city, can’t imagine how the situation would be in the far-flung areas. Then with the heavy rains, it became extremely difficult to walk/drive on whatever little was left of the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I very clearly remember one Saturday evening last month when I was returning home. It had rained heavily. I was walking on a partially dug-up road, very close to a busy shopping mall. In spite of all that commercial activity buzzing in the vicinity, the road was dark, there were no street lights, there were rain water puddles everywhere and the four wheelers and motorbikes which zoomed past made sure that the poor pedestrians didn’t get home dry. And to top it, none of the autos were ready to go where I wanted to and they were rude! Because it was short distance, the pay-by-meter didn’t appeal them. So there I was, feeling miserable, angry and irritated with the state of affairs, not just in Hyderabad, but in India as a whole. Worse was yet to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I reached home and switched on the TV, we heard about the blasts that had hit the city. The two places where the cowards had hit were such popular places that visiting them was more like a habit to people in Hyderabad. We, for example, had been to Gokul chaat and the laser show at least half a dozen times. The incident left us all numb. The newspapers and the TV channels urged people to stay away from crowded places and be alert to anything unusual, to stay safe. Okay, safe from what, who, for how long and where’s there to hide?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then within a fortnight, Hyderabad plunged into mourning again. Again on a rainy weekend. This time we are mourning the loss of life and innocence at the hands of corrupt, power-hungry politicians and the equally culprit profit- hungry construction companies. The world saw an under-construction flyover collapse along with iron scaffolding crushing the people under its weight; Hyderabad is seeing everyone involved, the people in position of authority, shamelessly point fingers to the other over the mangled bodies and debris.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;India shining, isn’t it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Sorry, I just could not bring myself to write optimistic. When I deeply feel that as a people we deserve much better deal, my conscience asks if we are doing anything to better things, if we have learnt anything from the mistakes we have done so far, or at least if we have helped our people in the hour of need. Then this is probably what we deserve for our apathy and indifference, insensitivity and sloth, I sadly conclude.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-7200840505724729811?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/7200840505724729811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=7200840505724729811' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7200840505724729811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/7200840505724729811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/09/weekend-rains-not-again.html' title='Weekend, Rains, not again.'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-451439231510524124</id><published>2007-09-07T10:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-07T10:22:58.731-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy birthday “I Me Myself!”</title><content type='html'>I always loved writing and had fair amount of opportunity to write essays, stories and articles for our school magazine.&lt;br /&gt;When I decided to blog I had great ambitions about making my posts sharp, witty, hilariously funny, intelligent (at the same time!) and sometimes romantic too just like some of my blogger friends write. I don’t know why but sometimes I just no longer think realistically. When I actually started to blog my posts did not even come close to my friends’ blogs which I so admire. So in the hope of improving my writing style I decided to go ahead. Now, there’s no marked improvement, probably because I don’t blog that often.&lt;br /&gt;Must say blogging allowed me to vent all my emotions (most of them) and by the end of it I would be a much calmer and saner self. This is a boon to A and other people around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be great to see my friends to end their blogger-exile. Anybody listening?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-451439231510524124?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/451439231510524124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=451439231510524124' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/451439231510524124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/451439231510524124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/09/happy-birthday-i-me-myself.html' title='Happy birthday “I Me Myself!”'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-40112001130567420</id><published>2007-09-04T10:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-04T10:10:40.192-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Come September</title><content type='html'>I am a little disappointed with my blogging frequency. The blog is approaching its 2nd birthday in a couple of days (yuhoo!) and I had thought of achieving the milestone with at least 50 posts. Yeah, I know 50 sounds such a pathetically small number given that it’s been 2 years. Come to think of it I have been writing a quite respectable 2 posts every month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last 4 weeks or more I have been down every weekend with something or the other. It started in July when I missed a Marathi play I was so looking forward to due to a bad stomach condition. That nasty thing took away my precious leaves at office, I had to cancel my Pune trip, I could not celebrate my exam results and all the shopping that I had planned to do. When the stomach realized that I have completely given up on it, it kindly came back in shape. But before I had planned on the things I should binge on after a month of semi-solid food, there was cold. Aarrrgh! Then my hand, then my wisdom tooth and still my wisdom tooth. God! The rant doesn’t help my condition but nevertheless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from my blog, my stay at my current employer turns 2 too which really surprises me.  I had no great expectations when I joined this place and looking back I am pleasantly amazed at all the learning, the great friends and the wonderful time I have enjoyed here. No! My managers don’t read my blog. :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-40112001130567420?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/40112001130567420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=40112001130567420' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/40112001130567420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/40112001130567420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/09/come-september.html' title='Come September'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-5231737946926438241</id><published>2007-08-02T10:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T10:54:37.772-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The first exam I remember writing</title><content type='html'>was my Ist standard maths paper. I had hurried out of my exam room thinking that the one who finishes the paper first comes first and was forced back to my seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I remember my engineering exams which always seemed to happen when we still had loads of portion to cover. The tension during the exam season used to reach new heights with all weird rumours thrown around. Whenever I smell freshly photocopied papers (especially those cheap 25 ps/ a piece photocopies) I remember those exam days. Well, I dont know what I mean by that!&lt;br /&gt;Because I used to be a bundle of nerves during exams and become extremely superstitious about every single thing. I used to wear the same pair of jeans for all the papers (if Mom allowed me to do that), never took books to read till the last minute and never discussed the paper after the exam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, my MBA exams were a different matter all together. They used to happen so frequently and leave such a huge, irreversible impact that they never enjoyed that "revered" exam status. The exam just reduced to being some painful experience before we got to sleep a full night sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a gap of 3 years after my official last exam where I promised myself that I will never go thru this hell again I strangely started missing exams. I thought that I was missing the thrill of writing exams, the fun of studying, the strange feeling in the stomach you feel checking the calendar, etc, etc. I mean the whole exam-package. And so many people I knew were taking some certification or the other. So I did what I thought was the most reasonable thing to do. I registered myself to write an exam which tested my patience, my ability to sit and study and above all my determination to write the exam. There was quite an uncertainty about the exam taking place in India. So much so that for the first time in my life I prayed that let the exams happen instead of my usual prayers of let me pass please! The exam left me exhausted, drained out and poorer by an obscene amount. My neck, shoulder and right hand ached till they got numb. The opportunity cost has also been huge in terms of the shopping that was not done, the TV that was not watched, the gossiping with friends that didn’t happen and I go on like this forever.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my friends! If there's one reason I would recommend you to go through the torture of writing an exam, then it is to experience the sheer relief at the end of it. The feeling is that of absolute bliss and light-headedness. Of course this lasts for a very short while before you start remembering the blunders you had committed on the paper. Ouch!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please dont ask me which exam I wrote and when the results will be out. For obvious reasons of course! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Useless PS: I had written this post in June, just after I returned from the exams...but the superstitious that I am I decided I wont blog about the exam till the results were out. Yes!! I passed!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-5231737946926438241?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/5231737946926438241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=5231737946926438241' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5231737946926438241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5231737946926438241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/08/first-exam-i-remember-writing.html' title='The first exam I remember writing'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-5415810331414517240</id><published>2007-06-28T06:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T08:14:49.152-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I love the month of June!</title><content type='html'>You shall realize soon that the title of the post has absolutely nothing to do with the post. But I love June!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a lot of things planned for the weekend. The first one was to visit the orthopedic.&lt;br /&gt;For the last few months my right hand has shown signs of rebellion. There was a mild pain in the forearm, the fingers were stiff and the when I rotated my wrist there was this “kut kut” sound. Yeah, I had blogged about this last year too! So I found myself flexing my arm, constantly pressing my forearm and subjecting my colleagues to Moov spray abuse. After a lot of procrastination and lot more googling on my symptoms we decided to see the doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 x-ray, a bag full of medicines, a wallet ripped of money, 30 minutes of inhaling the hospital air and just 2 minutes of the doctor's actual time later here I am. I have a mild cervical spondilytis and I have been given completely un-doctorly advice to rest, to not exercise and to gain weight. What an enviable position to be in! Minus the pain in the hand of course. I think I should thank all my colleagues who suffered in silence the smell of various ointments and sprays I spread in my cube, who walked around with serious straight face seeing me punching my hand and doing yoga anywhere, anytime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am not getting any sympathies from expected quarters. K2 and A. They have asked me to sit straight at work and do some exercise. K2’s advice of "Don’t pamper yourself didi" broke my heart!! : (&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And guess what!! I have an extra rib! Listening to the doctor's advice on do's and dont's I was getting worried. But when he told me that I have a rudimentary rib that grows in my neck I was so pleased! See, I always knew I had that extra thing in me! :) The rib thing was the best thing that happened this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must share two real-life incidents which will make you smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I constantly pester my dad about his diet. I keep asking him what he had for breakfast or lunch or dinner depending on the time when he called. Since he is not supposed to eat sweet for his "mild" diabetes he gets irritated every time we ask what he is eating.&lt;br /&gt;So, when I had called him one morning asking him what he had for breakfast, he replied,&lt;br /&gt;"Bread Jaaa...Bread Butter." Okay, it sounded much funnier when it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend from office, N, is funny in his own way. The other day he came across the book "Namesake", which now has Tabu and Irfaan Khan on the cover. He remarked very seriously, "Oh! So they have made a book out of the movie? That's good!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Folks, I plan to write fiction on my other blog, "A bag-full of stories". It's still a fledgling blog. Ha! The main blog itself suffers from severe neglect, and I have ambitiously gone ahead with the new blog! Well... So, the point is the story I was writing in parts, about Chitra and her friends ( People! Do you even remember?) is continued on the new blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And A shall be off to NY for a month. What will K do? Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-5415810331414517240?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/5415810331414517240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=5415810331414517240' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5415810331414517240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/5415810331414517240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-love-month-of-june.html' title='I love the month of June!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-1858158651930916455</id><published>2007-06-07T09:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-07T09:31:07.703-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Of the nut and the gem</title><content type='html'>She saw that he was a tall guy and wore an easy smile. He danced around the edge of the dance floor as if he was afraid of somebody bumping into him. Though she knew him as a co-employee for just a couple of days, hours actually she did something she would have never done otherwise. She pushed him into the dancing crowd.&lt;br /&gt;He was shocked. First, at the sudden push and then at her audacity. The short, thin girl with her glasses looked more like a school girl. Before he could say anything she laughed, pleased with herself and asked him why he was dancing so timidly. He showed her the band-aid on his thumb and said, "I have hurt myself." She was amused. So he was more paranoid than her, she thought. She got to know later that he had a nasty wound on his hand that night which he had covered with his sleeve and she felt bad for pushing him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This happened 3 years ago. Along with hundred other useless details of the party that night she clearly remembers the shirt he was wearing. She is not sure if he remembers what she wore. That doesn’t matter to her because he remembers that party as their first meeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they got to know each other better, he realized that she was as impossible as one can get and she realized that he was a pure gem. But the gem also thought that the nut was impossibly cute. Okay, the nut made up this. The nut and the gem celebrated their 2nd wedding anniversary last month. The nut has cried, howled, glared, heatedly argued, rolled on the floor laughing, watched the sci-fi movies for the gem's sake, followed the gem like his tail and embarrassed the gem on countless occasions. The gem has also cried, howled, glared, gone into post-argument-silence, listened to all the nutty jabbering, cracked some real good and some real terrible jokes, shopped with the nut, tried to make the nut an early-riser in vain and watched cloyingly-sweet movies for the nut's sake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gem gifted the nut with a diamond for the anniversary. Guess what the gem wanted from the nut? A pair of sports pajamas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-1858158651930916455?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/1858158651930916455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=1858158651930916455' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/1858158651930916455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/1858158651930916455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/06/of-nut-and-gem.html' title='Of the nut and the gem'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-427930399352892783</id><published>2007-05-09T04:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-10T05:48:51.893-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Aai,</title><content type='html'>Though we talk to each other everyday, there are some things which are never expressed. Like, I have never told you how much I admire you. Are you blushing? Hehehe!&lt;br /&gt;Well, they say “Like Mother, like daughter”. So true in so many ways and not so true in some.&lt;br /&gt;My tiny frame, my love of nature, love of animals, traveling and making friends, reading books and newspapers, are just some of the things I have taken after you. And there are some of your qualities which I keep wishing for. Like your hard working nature, the determination to successfully complete whatever tasks you undertake, and the magic in your hands which makes impossible seem such a stupid idea. Your hands bake cakes/biscuits, cook delicious meals, knit lovely sweaters, stitch frocks/skirts/curtains/pillow covers/salwar kameezes, sew buttons/soles of sandals, love and tend, care and mend. Then I wish I could be as generous, patient, courageous, strong and smart as you are. I would have also naively wished to be beautiful like you, but then it’s not possible to change my features without going under the knife.  &lt;br /&gt;All these years you have taught us so many things. You not only helped us with studies but also encouraged us to learn new things. You made our summer vacations so special by keeping us involved in something. I think the most important lesson you taught us by example was that everything’s possible if you are ready to put in that extra effort. You also taught us to be God-loving and not God-fearing. So for us God is not some vague, supernatural force, but a dear friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can imagine the glow on your face reading this post. I know how proud you and Baba feel about us and our achievements (however small).  I also know that we have a long way to go, just to keep up with our role model. Baba and your success as parents lies in the fact that we want to be good human beings, just like you. Congratulations Aai! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are wondering (which I am sure you are not) what’s the whole thing about…Wishing you a very happy Mothers’ Day!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours lovingly,&lt;br /&gt;K1,K2,K3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: I am writing this for K2 and K3 as well because we 3 think alike. Thanks to you!&lt;br /&gt;Another PS: Wishing a very happy Mothers’ Day to all the mothers who make us who we are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-427930399352892783?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/427930399352892783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=427930399352892783' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/427930399352892783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/427930399352892783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/05/dear-aai.html' title='Dear Aai,'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-6206026631272856335</id><published>2007-05-01T09:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T01:40:56.775-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Monkey-giri</title><content type='html'>If you ask my Mom which animal best described me as a child, "Monkey" she will say without missing a beat. “Not just as a child, even now she is a Monkey”, she will most likely add. No, no, she is not abusing me, she is just making it easier for you to imagine. Getting the head or hand stuck between two window bars, jumping from about 5-6 feet and missing the target, etc were some of the highpoints of my career as a monkey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a child, I found myself in weird situations while actually doing nothing. Something as simple as walking through the narrow corridor would end up in me bumping into the walls, hurting something or the other. And this happened almost everyday. Twice I have got my head and leg stuck in the window bars. On both occasions, I was too proud to ask my mom for help. So, I have ended up sitting/standing on the window pane for a couple of hours before my mom came to know the reason for my sudden inactivity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good thing that comes from this is stardom and popularity. Your stories will be told to other kids in the family/neighborhood. "One day K was looking out of the window. She did not listen to her mother and then...."So what if at your expense people will have a good laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's one memory that is particularly vivid. I was in class 1. I had won a prize in a drawing competition and we (K2, K3 who was a baby then, my Mom, uncle and me) were seated in a hall for prize distribution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For chairs we had a fiber-seat fitted on a steel frame. There was enough gap between the seat and the frame for a tiny hand to slide through. My mom had told me to sit quiet, with folded hands and not get into any trouble. Despite that my hands kept on sliding through those gaps. And then my left hand got stuck in the gap. For 5 minutes I tried wriggling it free. Then my mom, my uncle took turns pulling my hands, pushing the chair, huffing-puffing in between and of course scolding me all the while. There were occasional "Phatacks" on my back. Then my name was announced. Innocently I suggested to my Mom that I could go with both of them holding the chair behind me. My Mom paid no attention to anything and kept at wrenching my hand out. 5-7 minutes later my hand came out free, red and sore. No, I didn’t miss the limelight. The organizers called out my name again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At home, when the monkey told the whole thing excitedly to her dad with the shiny trophy in her hand, she had forgotten all the embarrassment and "Phatacks".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-6206026631272856335?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/6206026631272856335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=6206026631272856335' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6206026631272856335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6206026631272856335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/05/monkey-giri.html' title='Monkey-giri'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-8319795787075626000</id><published>2007-04-18T09:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-20T05:23:28.497-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgive but forget not.</title><content type='html'>How on earth do you forgive when you haven’t forgotten? And with my memory, I don’t just remember the hurt, but everything associated with it in painful detail. Not that I want to. So, when I forgive someone, it's a huge effort. Unfortunately my demeanor and my tendency to laugh away things and to pretend that I haven’t heard or understood that nasty comment thrown about me, people mistake me to be a "practical person" who doesn’t "feel" things. The truth is, it feels every time. The words which pinch , bite and makes one cry have the same effect on me too. But you won't see it if you don’t want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have thought of shouting back and to give people taste of their own medicine. But that is reacting the way they expected you to. So, I still laugh away or pretend that I haven’t heard or understood that nasty comment thrown about me. And for a good reason. To deprive the devil of the pleasure to see the other pained by his/her scornful insensitive remark is indeed a sweet revenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next time when I laugh and people say that I have an easy laugh, I will laugh at the thought. Nothing's easy buddy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: I think I have been bragging a lot about my memory these days. Because for the first time, I have forgotten the login-id and password to an important site. Sigh...&lt;br /&gt;Well, this postscript was an afterthought. To let my friends know that I am alright, just irritated with something.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-8319795787075626000?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/8319795787075626000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=8319795787075626000' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/8319795787075626000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/8319795787075626000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/04/forgive-but-forget-not.html' title='Forgive but forget not.'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-8566612906029934574</id><published>2007-04-05T07:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T08:00:37.190-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nostalgia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><title type='text'>Lost and found</title><content type='html'>In his speech recently, Dada spoke about friendship. He said that one friend is not enough for one’s lifetime and the more friends one has the more enriched life one will lead. Well, I have been really fortunate with my friends; all my friends are my best friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This post is about my first best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day we met first in our first standard class we became best friends. We shared our lunch boxes, color pencils, story-books, and other small things which children are interested in. We gave each other hand-made greeting cards and did not tire talking to each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;G had a lovely, fair complexion, silky brown hair, and amber eyes. And she was tall for her age. Her house was just opposite to our school and many evenings after school were spent at her place playing snakes and ladders. I still remember the taste of the rice and peas-daal her mother used to make. We both loved drawing and enjoyed participating in drawing competitions. Sometime she bagged a prize sometimes, I did. Even in our class we used to come 1st-2nd. In a way we were competing with each other but that never changed our friendship; it was as sweet and innocent as any 6 year old girl. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a happy kid and loved my school. Because of G I loved it even more. For 3 years, my parents got bored of me saying “G likes this, G likes that”. So did G’s parents hear her saying “K likes this, K likes that” more than anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then one day, we had to move. My Dad got transferred from Pune. I was leaving the city I loved dearly and I dreaded the thought of not meeting G again. On my last day there, I tried extremely hard to not cry. I did something really strong for an 8 year old; I smiled and said “Goodbye” to my friends and G. The memory is still so vivid and the pain fresh. “Pain” might sound an extreme word but that’s the word here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my first post-card letter to G was not answered, I tried not to lose heart. And I kept sending her letters for some time. Then time flew, new friends came, there were new things to learn and study. But G was never forgotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year I tried searching G on Google, orkut, and whichever other source I could think of. In vain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in for a pleasant surprise. My parents and sisters had gone shopping in Pune during Diwali last year. My dad thought he saw a lady who looked just like G’s mom. And guess what! She indeed was. G was standing next to her. They just had to hear my name and there were shrieks of joyous surprise. Wish I were there to see the surprise on their faces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Calling up G after 18 years, I imagined how the conversation would go. The lost time, the friendship that could have seen years of familiarity, the new friends and different lives we led, what were we going to talk about…I didn’t know. I need not have worried. Once we started talking it was like a torrent. We had so much to talk about, so much to update each other with. For the first few minutes, both of us kept talking at the same time, then kept laughing and then came the questions…too many of them. And then we both were so overcome with emotion that we could hardly talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, it was amazing talking to her, and I think I seriously underestimated the happiness a long-lost friend can bring. And all the wonderful exchange of emails, phone calls…There’s so much that I want to write here, but I will keep that till the time we meet each other.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-8566612906029934574?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/8566612906029934574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=8566612906029934574' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/8566612906029934574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/8566612906029934574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/04/lost-and-found.html' title='Lost and found'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-6443923312306345905</id><published>2007-03-23T05:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T05:10:42.769-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I can't think of any title for this post</title><content type='html'>Last month I lost my ring. Naturally I was very upset. Till one minute before I lost it I remember fiddling with it. The fact that it was a gold ring with a yellow sapphire that Dada gave was reason enough to feel bad and to make it worse people kept asking me how I always lose my rings. Yeah…I lost another gold ring with a shiny pearl (also given by Dada) 5 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to A, wearing any piece of jewelry other than absolutely necessary is a sheer waste of money and is a big bother. I don’t know from when did jewelry become a necessity. I like it, I wear it, is what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a clingy crab like me who holds onto everything that is “mine”, losing rings like that is a big shock. Years ago I remember how after the annual exams we girls used to settle down in the afternoons to clear our cupboards. The “to throw” pile would be next to non-existent while we took time to admire broken mugs, old rakhis, faded stickers, and similar items before stacking them again. Now, the crab was not for the person that I am but for my sun sign. This reminds me, a few days ago I was talking to a colleague about sun signs and whether they make any sense. After analyzing the behavior of almost all my team members he asked me my opinion. I just said that I think whatever they write about my sign applies in my case to a good extent. To this he answered that people under MY sun sign believe only good things said about them and feel that the rest is not true. Hello!! Now, isn’t this true about everyone around? And they blame the crabs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, coming back to where the post started…As I type, from the corner of my eye I can see my new ring shining bright and (hopefully) sitting tight. Bad rhyme I know, couldn’t resist though. Rhyme again? :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-6443923312306345905?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/6443923312306345905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=6443923312306345905' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6443923312306345905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/6443923312306345905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-cant-think-of-any-title-for-this-post.html' title='I can&apos;t think of any title for this post'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-8476304247208952430</id><published>2007-02-14T04:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-14T04:11:38.046-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nostalgia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='King'/><title type='text'>Back!</title><content type='html'>Hi all! Coming back to blog after a while I feel sorry for my blog.&lt;br /&gt;I also feel sorry for myself and my New Year resolution of blogging at least once a month. :-(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, oh well! I was busy!! I won’t talk about office and work. But I will only say it was crazy! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the last few of weeks, I attended 2 weddings, met old friends (such a relief) and went for A's team outing. Yeah, it was his team's outing and family was invited. I am glad I went...not only did A enjoy himself, I also had a great time. We participated enthusiastically in all those games and cheered like school-kids when our team won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new house now feels old. Not looks-wise, but strangely enough we feel as if we have been staying here for a long time already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I yearn for a dog. But I have been told by A last year to wait for another 40 years before I can even ask for a dog. Hmmmphf.&lt;br /&gt;Almost 12 years ago, my dad faced this dilemma. His 3 daughters were begging, pleading and threatening him to take in a sad looking pup. My usually practical mom even had a name ready. My dad looked at the pup and then looked at us and said "I am telling you, he's going to be a big liability! Who will look after him? Who will take him for walks?"&lt;br /&gt;“We will we will!!”  3 of us in unison.&lt;br /&gt;My dad just shook his head.&lt;br /&gt;So that was it. We got King at the most inappropriate of times. I, the eldest kid was in 10th. Our house was extremely tiny, the land-lord and his wife were forever scheming how to make things difficult for us and to top all the woes we got a dog. But, without a shred of doubt, those were the happiest days. I can’t say the same for my dad though! King became his responsibility from day one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;King, who came into our lives as a tiny, timid, confused looking pup with huge eyes soon over-grew us. At 6 months when Kingu, as we called him, stood on his hind-limbs he could hold my shoulders. And he was as naughty as a 6-7 year-old kid.&lt;br /&gt;And finicky about food too! Mom had to literally feed him the first bite before he would devour from his dish. He would wake me up every morning scratching my face with his paws. Imagine, I used to get up seeing his black nose sniffing away at my face every morning for a couple of years!&lt;br /&gt;Having him was like having a baby in the house. K3 would play tug-of-war with him and we used to roll with laughter watching them! And like any attention crazy child he would love us talking to him. But how long could we do that, with our school, college and studies? K3 soon came up with an idea which worked like charm. She used to study sitting in front of him and read aloud her lessons. After every 3-4 sentences, she would take his name. So it sounded like, "You know what Newton did, King? He not only found out gravity, he also wrote 3 laws." After about a page of K3's lesson, King would promptly fall asleep. Poor thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our lives revolved around him, he ruled our lives in true sense. It was so much fun to come home from college/school and to find him waiting for you with his tail wagging like crazy. It was such an ego-boost to see some one so happy to see you back!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every day was some new King story. How he was scared of the sun beam that fell on him from the window, how he got K2's hair band stuck around his neck, how much he loved his collar with bells on it, how he enjoyed eating upma and noodles, and how this ferocious looking dog was the most gentle creature we knew...It used to be a funny sight to see him looking at the kitten licking away the milk from his plate and then whining for food!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know when I start talking about King, memories just keep pouring and it's difficult to keep my eyes dry. There’s so much more to write about our beloved dog, but the way he has touched our lives can’t be put in words. I can see those who have had or have pets nodding their heads in agreement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-8476304247208952430?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/8476304247208952430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=8476304247208952430' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/8476304247208952430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/8476304247208952430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2007/02/back_14.html' title='Back!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-116575811911998555</id><published>2006-12-10T08:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-10T08:47:49.693-05:00</updated><title type='text'>From the new place</title><content type='html'>It all started with a phone call from a guy from a pvt bank's home loan department. He took A around a few properties in the city. We liked a place which was way above our ideal budget but reasonable realistically. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last 4-5 months have been the craziest months of our life. We spent every available minute doing something for the new house. Trying to give instructions to the supervisor (who never really understood or pretended to never understand what we said, bless him),pleading with the builder to speeden up things, visiting hardware shops, poring over shade books of paint companies,making endless trips to the site to see how our flat was shaping up,etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there was packing, moving and unpacking! I have packed things I never knew existed in my house in the first place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back I think we really did a good job of holding up our sanity and not banging off a few (at least!) heads. The painter who did not understand which color paint he had in his hand and cared for nothing but a wall and a brush, the carpenter who still kept on hitting nails 2 months after the date he had promised he will complete his work, and the supervisor who nodded his head vigourously for every instruction of ours and forgot it promptly the next minute, and a whole lot of other characters tested, stretched and played with our patience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here we are, finally in our own house, surrounded by cartons begging to be unpacked, walls looking bright and rooms waiting for memories to be built.&lt;br /&gt;The effort is worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-116575811911998555?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/116575811911998555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=116575811911998555' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/116575811911998555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/116575811911998555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/12/from-new-place.html' title='From the new place'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-116409972788822055</id><published>2006-11-21T03:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-21T04:03:14.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Part 3</title><content type='html'>Rohan was great fun to be with. Chitra soon found out that people came to him with all kinds of problems. Under his “I-couldn’t-care-less” demeanor, Rohan was hard working, sincere and really patient. Chitra had heard him explain an entire module to a colleague without getting irritated on being asked irrelevant questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chitra was really surprised how her opinion about Rohan changed and how they became friends. And the day she learnt that he was an MBA, the last grudge melted away!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laughing heartily at his jokes and making faces at his not-so-original one-liners, Chitra wondered when was the last time that Rohan was really serious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that she didn’t have her group of friends in the city, Rohan introduced her to his own gang in office. Chitra was thrilled to find friends who were just what she had been wishing for. The best thing about everyone in “The Gang” was the amazing ability to laugh at oneself. There were weekends of trekking, theater workshops, volunteering at NGOs, movies, etc. The girls from the gang even went window-shopping together when any other activity seemed tiring after the long week. Chitra no longer frowned at being called Chi by the group. Not because she liked it. She however found Chi much more normal than names like Sonic, Jamun, Tank and Piddu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey Chi, what’s so interesting thing there? You look like “concentration” personified.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ron, please don’t try to break my train of thoughts.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So are you thinking about the zit on your forehead?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Zit?  Where?” Chitra frowned and started feeling her forehead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Isn’t that your worst nightmare come true? Relax, I was just kidding!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That gets recorded in the Guinness’ Book as the most pathetic attempt to sound funny.&lt;br /&gt; I need your help in writing this email Ron. I want to inform this client Jason about my planned vacation next week, without giving him a chance to dump assignments on me. This guy has already ruined my last two planned trips.” She rolled her eyes.&lt;br /&gt;“And I WANT to go home for Diwali.” Chitra screwed her nose. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You look like a cute piglet.” thought Rohan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ron! Why are you smiling like that?&lt;br /&gt;What should I write? I want to be tactful.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hmm…let me see. First of all, don’t sound desperate Chi. Don’t ask his permission for leave. Just tell him that you won’t be available the whole of next week and you will take care of the assignments when you are back.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“That sounds reasonable, doesn’t it? I think I was getting scared for no reason. The manager has already approved my leave. By the way, I am off for 2 weeks not one! Yuhoo!”  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“2 weeks? What will you do at home?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the email drafted, Chitra felt relieved. “Spend some time with family…good escape from strangers like you! Whew!” Chitra teased Rohan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; “Strangers, incidentally are just family you have yet to come to know.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Interesting.” Chitra said and looked up to see what Rohan meant by that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hellllo! This time I am not original…just a line from some book.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Five people you meet in heaven.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sorry?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The book, stupid!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-116409972788822055?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/116409972788822055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=116409972788822055' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/116409972788822055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/116409972788822055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/11/part-3.html' title='Part 3'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-116298167105984358</id><published>2006-11-08T05:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-08T05:27:51.073-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A week's trip to Kerala</title><content type='html'>was more fun than I had imagined.&lt;br /&gt;Kerala's beautiful. And I realized that pretty early in the trip.&lt;br /&gt;I woke up at 6.30 and looked out of the window of the running train and saw tiny slopping roofed houses lined along the railway track amid lush greenery. I just couldn’t go back to sleep again! So till 10 am when we reached Ernakulam I tried to see as much as I could.&lt;br /&gt;There has to be a separate travelogue written to describe our trip, but till I find the motivation to do that, here are the highlights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Banglore- Meeting A's friends, his neighbours and checking out the neighbourhood where he grew up. I have not spent more than 5-6 years in one place, so my school and college memories are made of different faces and places. But I could easily sense A's happiness of being back where he's spent 22 years. Yeah, I know I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kochi- Visit to the Synagogue, Jew town, St. Francis Church, Marine Drive and the Hill Palace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alleppy- The stay on the houseboat for a day. Memorable. Nothing can be more relaxing than being on the boat and gazing around at the backwaters. Hmm...I miss that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thekkady- Visit to a spice garden, seeing a Kathakali show. Spending a day in the Periyar Tiger Reserve- trekking and relaxing on the bamboo raft. And trying to get rid of the leeches and imagining them to be everywhere for a day after the trek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Munnar- Tea, tea everywhere! Visit to the Eravikulam National park to see the Nilkurinje (how do they spell it?) flowers in bloom. Sadly, there were not many flowers but the park is great. And it looked amazing when it started raining. Spotted the mountain deer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strangely, coming back from the holiday was not as bad as we dreaded. I think that's a good sign. We are getting used to the idea that you can’t run away from your routine for too long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/1600/backwaters.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/320/backwaters.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alleppy backwaters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/1600/bambooraft.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/320/bambooraft.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Periyar lake, we are on the other raft&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/1600/houseboat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/320/houseboat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/1600/jungle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/320/jungle.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/1600/jungle_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/320/jungle_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-116298167105984358?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/116298167105984358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=116298167105984358' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/116298167105984358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/116298167105984358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/11/weeks-trip-to-kerala.html' title='A week&apos;s trip to Kerala'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-116101770629152826</id><published>2006-10-16T12:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-16T12:55:06.626-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Part 2</title><content type='html'>"Tch tch, it's a pity to be working on such a beautiful day." She said to herself while looking at the blue skies from the window. It was going to rain. She knew instinctively. But there was work to finish before she could enjoy the rains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Contribution!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Huh?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; She raised her head to see Rohan smiling in front of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "What for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Farewell gift for Sid."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "I have already given it to Roopa."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "You must have given her 100 bucks, the budget is now increased, need 100 more."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"200!! You must be kidding! I don’t even know that guy!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What do you mean you don’t even know that guy? He is in the team that sits next to our team, both teams go out together to coffee, lunch, all the time. I am surprised you are haggling like this for mere 100 bucks."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chitra could feel her face flushing and eyes narrowing with anger. "You guys must be going out, I have never ever!! And mister, it's my money. For you 200 bucks might be alright but for me it is a ridiculously high amount to spend on someone I don’t even know! I would have contributed 200 bucks, even 250 bucks if he was from my team but this thing makes no sense at all!! I am already repenting why I gave 100 bucks to Roopa in the first place." Chitra raised her voice. She was so angry with herself for justifying to Rohan. She regretted her outburst and thought a simple "I have run out of cash. Will give later" would have been more appropriate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay! Shall ask Roopa to return your money. When you leave I will make sure that nobody gives you a farewell. Yeah, remember, not even a farewell. I need not bother actually. The way you stay cooped up in your cubicle the whole day, nobody will even notice that you have left." Even before he had said that Rohan was praying he hadn’t said it. He knew he was being too rude for no reason. He was so sorry and looking at Chitra's lower lip quiver he felt ashamed of himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chitra's face was blank, she just stared at nothing in particular for a moment and then whispered, "Okay" and sat down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am so sorry...I...I didn’t intend to say that...I really didn’t mean it." Rohan stood for a while but Chitra did not lift up her head. He left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chitra tried hard to concentrate at her computer screen, but it was just a blur. Tears trickled down her cheeks and she with great effort controlled her composure. She knew that what Rohan had said was not true. She knew that she would be missed by all. Even the housekeeping staff whom she knew by their names. But she found it hard that somebody can behave so unprofessionally at workplace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time she got up after an hour, everybody had left. She was glad that nobody had seen her cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was raining heavily and the skies had grown dark gray. Thank God, she rarely left home without her umbrella. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She would have to catch a rickshaw to reach home tonight as buses would be crowded and it would be impossible to wait at the bus stop in these rains. As she rushed to get out of the office gates she saw a familiar figure waiting near the car park. She knew she had to avoid him. She tried to walk fast but holding the umbrella in one hand and her books in the other hand, it was not easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am sorry Chitra, I really am." She heard Rohan running and catching up with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chitra just kept walking as if he was invisible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Please!! Stop making me feel so guilty. What can I do to show that I am really really sorry?" He pleaded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Get lost." She said and turned around to face him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; He had spoiled his clothes running after her in heavy rains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Please!"&lt;br /&gt;"Fine."&lt;br /&gt;He still kept walking with her.&lt;br /&gt;"What's it now?"&lt;br /&gt;"Can I drop you home?"&lt;br /&gt;She frowned at him. "No need to be chivalrous. I will take a rick."&lt;br /&gt;"I am just trying to make up for spoiling your mood, Can I drop you home?"&lt;br /&gt;"That's fine Rohan, I felt bad just for that moment. And anyways I am not affected by what others say and what they do." Chitra said, hoping that Rohan had not seen her wiping her tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Right! And I can see for myself that you are certainly not affected by a fool's plight, particularly when a fool waits for you for an hour and half on a Friday evening, follows you in such rains and gets drenched without worrying about catching cold. You didn’t even offer me your umbrella!! Not even once in all these 5 minutes!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You can’t argue with a fool!" Chitra broke into a smile and gestured Rohan to come under the umbrella and he knew that she was not angry with him anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-116101770629152826?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/116101770629152826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=116101770629152826' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/116101770629152826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/116101770629152826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/10/part-2.html' title='Part 2'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-116041493725090396</id><published>2006-10-09T13:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T13:28:57.443-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Part 1</title><content type='html'>Trying in vain to comb back her wavy hair, Chitra looked at her reflection in the mirror. A petite school girl with short hair and cheerful face smiled at her.&lt;br /&gt;"Who will believe that I hold a masters' degree and am working full time?” Chitra wondered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had always looked younger than her age. When she was in college, people mistook her to be studying in 8th standard. It used to irritate her then, for she was in a hurry like girls of her age, to grow up fast. But nowadays she enjoyed the fact that her child-like face deducted at least a couple of years from her looks.&lt;br /&gt;"Have a great day sweetheart!" she wished herself and rushed to catch her bus to office. During the 45 mins daily bus ride, if she felt like having a good talk with someone, there were a bunch of regulars who had become her friends. But on days like today, when she was "happy from within", according to her, she chose to keep quiet and just talk to herself.&lt;br /&gt;"TGIF!! Don't know how the week flew by!" Her inaudible monologue went on till she reached her office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she reached her floor, she could hear greetings from all around. Since her first day in the office, the ever smiling Chitra used to greet every one on the floor before settling in her cube. This simple action had made her quite popular with people who now were used to her enthusiastic “Good mornings”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as she was filling her water bottle for the day she caught a glimpse of Rohan. The tall, easy-to-smile-at Ron (as he was called by everyone) was 2 years senior to Chitra. For some weird reason which she didn’t remember, Chitra didn’t like Ron's smile. In fact she didn't like this character at all.&lt;br /&gt;"Hi Chi" (Chi as in China) said Rohan.&lt;br /&gt;"Hi &lt;b&gt;ROHAN&lt;/b&gt;" Chitra said without a smile and stressing on saying "Rohan" to display her dislike for hearing her name being shortened. That was one more thing Chitra didn’t like about Rohan. "Why does he have to behave friendly with everybody? Why is he trying so hard to be the good guy? Why can’t he just say Chitra? Chitra is already a short name."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chitra was determined to not let that brief encounter with Rohan to spoil her mood and got back to her work. But the harder she tried to get him out of her thoughts, the more miserably she failed.&lt;br /&gt;They had first met during a training session 8 months ago which Rohan had coordinated for the new joinees. On the first day itself something had gone wrong. Nothing extraordinarily wrong but still strong enough reason for Chitra to become hostile towards Rohan. "MBAs are arrogant, I agree, but more importantly they are technically useless. They don’t spend 2 years to learn but to unlearn what they have learnt." Rohan was giving some of his trademrk gyan to a new joinee after the training session. Chitra was in earshot and thought that Rohan had said that intentionally to insult her as she was the only MBA in her training batch. Rohan had later apologized for his stupid generalization. But the impression was formed. And Chitra, inspite of being a self-confessed bad judge of people and a religious “jumping-to-conclusions" type, decided that Rohan was an absolute moron. Period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Disclaimer: Any resemblance to real people or real incidents or real places is purely unintentional and is figment of your truly’s real rich imagination :-D. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-116041493725090396?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/116041493725090396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=116041493725090396' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/116041493725090396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/116041493725090396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/10/part-1.html' title='Part 1'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-116011844139961600</id><published>2006-10-06T03:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T03:07:21.423-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Flash back</title><content type='html'>Till my 12th standard, summer holidays meant a trip to Amma-Mothe baba's, my grandparents' place. A small village in Karnataka, Secunderapur spelled heaven for us girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The countdown for traveling to Secunderapur used to begin much before the annual exams. While studying we used to dream about all the things to do during the summer holidays. Often, Mothe baba used to come to accompany Mom and we three girls to Secunderapur and Dad would come for a couple of days at the end of the vacation to bring us back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A typical day of our vacation used to start very early in the morning. Secunderapur, like any other tiny village wakes up early. We used to laze in the open living room called “osri” watching cows being milked, calves hopping around... We loved drinking fresh milk (without boiling) and loved making white milk "whiskers".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amma is the world's best cook (my mom shares this honor with her). She used to ask us of our cravings and used to cook every single meal accordingly. She used to painstakingly prepare our all time-favorites like mudda-bhaji-bhakri, bhisi-belle-bhat, pulao, gulab jamun, shrikhand, kheer, basundi (rabdi) and a whole load of goodies. We were treated like little princesses in the huge red-stoned house, where not a single thing happened against our wishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afternoon was play-time for us. Those were the days when my Mom used to try every trick in the book to get us take those afternoon naps. For us that was waste of vacation time. We used to invent our own games and play endlessly. Even a simple thing like blowing soap bubbles from the terrace would keep us occupied for a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evenings were mostly spent on the terrace eating dahi-bhat (curd rice) out of Amma's hands and waiting for the cattle to come home. While we sang songs, poems and learned new shlokas/bhajans it would be dinner time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To sleep next to Amma, listening to her bedtime stories used to be one of the star attractions. Usually our discussions of deciding whose turn it was to sleep next to her ended in big fights. Counting the stars in the clear night sky, sleep used to be just a blink away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last day of our vacation has never ever gone dry. Clinging on to Amma and Mothe baba like baby monkeys we used to cry our eyes out and our parents used to &lt;i&gt;drag&lt;/i&gt; us to the bus. Any by-stander watching the scene would be convinced that we stayed with cruel, heartless foster-parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I tend to get nostalgic whenever I get a chance but these “memory-breaks” are my coffee-breaks. I can so easily go back anywhere in time and re-live those charming, innocent days, without even getting up from my seat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-116011844139961600?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/116011844139961600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=116011844139961600' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/116011844139961600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/116011844139961600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/10/flash-back.html' title='Flash back'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-115825216453569069</id><published>2006-09-14T12:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-14T12:49:28.256-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blah blah blah</title><content type='html'>They say life is what happens while we are waiting for it to happen. Suddenly this cliché seems profound to me. Because it's as if I was the inspiration for these words...&lt;br /&gt;For the past few days the cook has been turning out rather bland fare. And we are grateful that at least she is coming regularly.&lt;br /&gt;Looking at all the success my friends have achieved in their career, I feel I need to take another look at my ambitions. (Of course! I am happy for my friends!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t get me started on how my work is these days. I am sure you will all read what's &lt;i&gt; not &lt;/i&gt; written. After all it's post-appraisal time and mood can not be drastically different from office to office.&lt;br /&gt;I want to run away from Monday right on Friday, now isn’t that scary?&lt;br /&gt;Where's this post headed? No idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, right now I am thinking about the pickled-apricot ice cream I ate some time back. Did I like it? I don’t know. I can only say that it was a different taste. Very powerful. I will stop here while I am thinking about sweet things in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's time for my memory break. Will post about it soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-115825216453569069?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/115825216453569069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=115825216453569069' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115825216453569069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115825216453569069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/09/blah-blah-blah.html' title='Blah blah blah'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-115815486763720606</id><published>2006-09-13T09:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T09:41:07.650-04:00</updated><title type='text'>But I wrote this last week... :-)</title><content type='html'>If somebody tells me it's a 24-hr day I will say "Go kid someone else." I mean it. I know I am repeating myself for the nth time but I just don’t know how days are passing by! Not that I am involved in some spectacular experiment that will change the face of humanity or whatever...I don’t know what's happening but I seem to be perpetually sleepy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My normal day begins at 9 am...when I try pushing my body off the bed so as to wake myself up by the impact.&lt;br /&gt;My better-than-normal-day begins at 8.50 am when I realize that I can still sleep for 8 minutes and get up 2 minutes earlier than usual. Every morning I resolve to cut down on the sleep, get up early (by my standards- no unrealistic timings like 5.30 or 6 am) and get some exercise. But the circumstances so conspire against me...Like the clock in the living room is 15 minutes fast which I use for deciding that it's time to sleep...and the bedroom clock which is 5 mins slow...got the point?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ganapati this time was low key compared to past years...I really missed being part of the celebrations. Wish we can be in Pune for the festival next time. Inshallah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the highpoint of this week definitely was J's visit. Thanks J, it was such a pleasure meeting you. Again the realization hit me hard that A and I are just not spending enough time with friends... :-(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I have become a complete zombie with a very bad cold. It's the dust which is killing me. My nose is red and sore, the head is stuffy and numb, the throat is parched, the mouth is dry and the whole system is in mess. I think my colleagues will stage a protest to send me home. To give them credit, they are considerate but the real thing is this smelly potion "Zinda Tilismath" that I apply wherever I can to get some relief. I don’t know why I am in office today given my high levels of motivation (especially after getting the pay-hike letter). I know I surprise myself most of the times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps: With lots of fussing and rest and 2 sick leaves my cold is under control. Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-115815486763720606?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/115815486763720606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=115815486763720606' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115815486763720606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115815486763720606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/09/but-i-wrote-this-last-week.html' title='But I wrote this last week... :-)'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-115583399825000135</id><published>2006-08-17T12:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T13:03:09.080-04:00</updated><title type='text'>In my words</title><content type='html'>I am thinking about...&lt;br /&gt;…how can I make a living out of something I am passionate about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said...&lt;br /&gt;…that to myself. Not aloud yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to...&lt;br /&gt;…see the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish...&lt;br /&gt;…I could stop time, sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear...&lt;br /&gt;…K2, K3's sweet voices when I think about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder...&lt;br /&gt;…when will I ever grow up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I regret...&lt;br /&gt;…about nothing. Touche wood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am...&lt;br /&gt;…unintentionally lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dance...&lt;br /&gt;…funnily, whenever I am extremely happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sing...&lt;br /&gt;…often. And on demand when on A's bike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cry...&lt;br /&gt;…easily when sad, happy, scared, frustrated, irritated, nervous, angry, sick, clueless, etc. Did I miss any emotion there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not always...&lt;br /&gt;…happy with myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I make with my hands...&lt;br /&gt;…all things nice and beautiful. I am sure my friends will vouch for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I write...&lt;br /&gt;…to clear my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I confuse ...&lt;br /&gt;…people when I just don't react the way they expect me to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need...&lt;br /&gt;…my family, my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally I need to undergo a training to stop trying to please everybody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks &lt;a href="http://www.doseofdepps.blogspot.com/"&gt;Deppe&lt;/a&gt; for helping me break my blogging-break with the tag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would love to see how &lt;a href="http://www.fountainhead28.blogspot.com/"&gt;Pals&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.aroopcherian.blogspot.com/"&gt;Aroop&lt;/a&gt; do it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-115583399825000135?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/115583399825000135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=115583399825000135' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115583399825000135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115583399825000135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/08/in-my-words_17.html' title='In my words'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-115383798045469460</id><published>2006-07-25T10:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T10:33:00.570-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A's contribution to K's weirdness quotient.</title><content type='html'>As promised A's here with his points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• One of the weird things that I can’t help notice about K is her sense of imagination. No, not the kind of imagination that rest of us have... Hers is unique one.&lt;br /&gt;Tell her that you saw a rabbit riding a horse and the look on her face is a dead give-away that she is actually imagining that before dismissing it. I am not complaining about this, as it can be really amusing :))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Another thing which I find rather amazing / frustrating / mind-boggling is her ability to remember things. Many times I ask her if she remembers so and so person we met the other day and she quips, was he the one holding green colored bag and mushroom colored hanky!!! She remembers every actor’s, actresses’ and their parents’, kids’ birthdays and anniversaries. She remembers everything that is not even worth hearing / reading. No wonder she kicks %$# in quizzes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-115383798045469460?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/115383798045469460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=115383798045469460' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115383798045469460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115383798045469460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/07/as-contribution-to-ks-weirdness.html' title='A&apos;s contribution to K&apos;s weirdness quotient.'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-115338482198912730</id><published>2006-07-20T04:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T04:40:22.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Yuhoo!!</title><content type='html'>On Sunday, 16th July, my dear friend U, gave birth to Eisha. Here's wishing the proud parents all the joys of parenthood.&lt;br /&gt;Don't ask me how I have resisted the temptation to post the pics. But take my word, she's a real looker!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-115338482198912730?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/115338482198912730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=115338482198912730' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115338482198912730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115338482198912730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/07/yuhoo.html' title='Yuhoo!!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-115331321494685891</id><published>2006-07-19T08:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T08:46:54.960-04:00</updated><title type='text'>My Weirdness Quotient</title><content type='html'>I am extremely sorry Deppe for doing the tag so late. The delay is because:&lt;br /&gt;(1) A could not make up his mind - whether to list out his wife's weird habits or to diplomatically stay out of trouble. I guess the offer was too tempting to refuse. After all, where in the world does a husband get the chance to officially announce the weird things his wife does?&lt;br /&gt;(2) Yours truly spent a lot of time to coax/threaten him. Yeah, I tried the "tickle" trick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after scratching my head, tapping my chin, looking somewhere in the sky I thought real hard about 3 (just 3?) things people find weird about me. A will contribute two points later. Let’s see when.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• I constantly feel cold and many times I inadvertently keep asking my colleagues if they feel the same. The weird thing is I just fail to realize that the person next to me is sweating and cursing the heat and I go ahead and think aloud "My God, isn’t it so cold?" In fact I generate a lot of negative publicity wherever I go as the "female who always complains about the AC".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Whenever we go out for breakfast, I stick to the regular idli-sambar. Like the true-blue weirdo, I take 5 minutes to go through the menu, look at what the other patrons are eating, then mentally cross out all options and finally place my order of idli. It's more of a ritual. No wonder I am on the hit-list of many irritated friends with whom I have had breakfast. Right, this is limited only to breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• While watching TV I stick to just one channel. Can you believe that? No matter which the channel is, from AXN to Zee TV Telugu (I don’t understand a word of Telugu) you will find me watching the TV with complete concentration. As far as channel surfing is concerned I am caught in a time warp. I think this is because of the obscene amount of time I have spent watching just Doordarshan (cable TV was a late entrant to my house) right from Su-prabhat to Shubha-ratri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More weirdness when the guest obliges.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-115331321494685891?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/115331321494685891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=115331321494685891' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115331321494685891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115331321494685891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/07/my-weirdness-quotient.html' title='My Weirdness Quotient'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-115331084158669527</id><published>2006-07-19T08:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T08:07:21.600-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Yet again.</title><content type='html'>Cocooned in my office cubicle, insulated from the rest of the world I had no inkling that just one hour ago Mumbai burned in yet another series of bomb blasts. It was not until I saw a colleague of mine frantically trying to call his folks back in Mumbai that reality hit me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scale of destruction, the loss of lives, hopes, dreams and innocence is massive. Common people, after putting a hard day at work were on their way home. Like us they would be thinking of several things they would do in the evening...what to cook for dinner, household chores to finish before hitting the bed, helping kids with their homework, and one brutal act of coward fanatics brought everything to an end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reports say that more than 200 people perished in the blasts and hundreds were injured. But the number of people who are scarred for life is much greater than that. Entire families have torn apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The newspapers are filled with praises for how Mumbai has bounced back. Politicians are claiming that Mumbaikars have yet again defied terrorists' plans and that normalcy has been restored. Please try telling that to the waiting child whose mother will never return home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-115331084158669527?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/115331084158669527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=115331084158669527' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115331084158669527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115331084158669527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/07/yet-again.html' title='Yet again.'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-115099662391267096</id><published>2006-06-22T13:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T13:17:03.933-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And there goes my weekend!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/1600/dilbert.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/320/dilbert.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anyone asks me what I work for, you will hear me saying "Weekends" without a moment's hesitation.So you can imagine the numbness that has crept over me when I come to know that I have to work this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah,yeah...yet another character building experience.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-115099662391267096?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/115099662391267096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=115099662391267096' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115099662391267096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/115099662391267096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/06/and-there-goes-my-weekend.html' title='And there goes my weekend!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-114926770223987569</id><published>2006-06-02T11:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T13:01:42.370-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Cabbages and Cauliflowers and CTS</title><content type='html'>There is something with the cabbages and the cauliflowers we get these days. The vegetables have lost their flavor, taste and their beautiful colors. Don’t know why the cabbage is whiter than before (give me back my green cabbage) and why the cauliflower is just all smell? Exasperates me. Call me names. But for some time I am just knocking off these vegetables from my grocery list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now digressing a little...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you heard of the Carpal Tunnel Syndrome? The CTS? For people like me who work on the computers all day long in offices which are NOT ergonomically designed CTS can’t be ignored. For the past few days I have been feeling pain in my fore arm and the wrist and sometimes the elbow hurts too. Every click of the mouse becomes painful and whenever I flex my fingers I can hear a "kut-kut" sound. The sound doesn’t prove anything according to A. But the ever paranoid me thinks this is the warning bell. My right hand is my right hand!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have browsed and browsed a lot looking for any info about CTS. I am now armed with a list of simple exercises to be done at the desk, advice to rest the elbow while using the mouse and suggestion to learn keyboard shortcuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guys, be careful with how you work on you computers. Because we spend the precious 8 (at least) hours every day of our "prime time" this way and the last thing we need is a monster like CTS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yappy Weekend!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-114926770223987569?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/114926770223987569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=114926770223987569' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/114926770223987569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/114926770223987569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/06/cabbages-and-cauliflowers-and-cts.html' title='Cabbages and Cauliflowers and CTS'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-114918226105333637</id><published>2006-06-01T13:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T13:17:41.083-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Anyways</title><content type='html'>Why does good time fly so fast?&lt;br /&gt;Had a good weekend with both A's and my parents with us. It's always good to have parents around...they spoil you silly no matter how old you have grown. The weekend zoomed past. Before I realized it, it was time for goodbyes. And to say that I am not very good at saying goodbyes would be the understatement of the century. Anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a long time we have been planning to visit my grandparents. They recently celebrated their 53rd wedding anniversary. Touche Wood. One look at them and you can not believe that there is any other couple with more contradictions. But both of them are extremely sweet, very loving and charming. Thank God for grandparents. Just thinking of all the splendid times we spent with them, I melt deep inside. If only it was possible to visit them more often...if only they stayed as healthy as before...Anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To meet old friends after a looong time over a yummy ice cream (okay, even without the ice cream) is so comforting...especially when you discover that your friends have not changed over the years and you still connect on the same plane. The nostalgia and the "you remember that day...” stories make you want to believe that you had so much more fun in those good ol' days than today. Anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And talking about today, I must tell you that the weather has become Superb. Yes, with the capital S. :-) After two months of unbearable heat, it's a treat to look at the blue skies and feel the cool breeze in one's hair.  Being under the influence of the water sign I get super excited during the rainy season. Folks be warned, this cancerian can be bubbling with happiness one moment and in-her-shell the other. Anyways.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-114918226105333637?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/114918226105333637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=114918226105333637' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/114918226105333637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/114918226105333637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/06/anyways.html' title='Anyways'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-114777629634896891</id><published>2006-05-16T03:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T06:47:59.636-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Woes</title><content type='html'>Summer is just chand dino ka mehmaan now, and I can't say how relieved I feel at the thought.&lt;br /&gt;I know I have mentioned my love of rain sometime ago on the blog. But don’t be surprised if you see me cribbing about the gloomy rainy days, the muddy puddles on the roads and the horror of the clothes taking forever to dry. But right now I'm eagerly counting days for Mriga Pravesh and the poetic kaale-kaale badal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my fourth summer in Hyderabad, and every year the city has kept up its promise of climbing up the temperature scale. Highderabad. Every morning when I get ready for office any onlooker will mistake me to be Phoolan Devi with my face veiled in a scarf. I raise the non-tainted windows of the non-AC cab and feel just like a potato being baked in the oven. I choose to sit sweat-drenched in the cab rather than get scorched by the hot air that rushes in through the windows. Life is all about choosing between the lesser of the evil  you see. So, by the time I reach office I am so ready to die-I mean crash that it's sheer perseverance and determination on part of the people who make me work the full 8 hours or so. With no volition of mine. (Thankfully, this I-will-die-in-this-heat-syndrome lasts only 2 months.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My harsh views about summer only mellow with the sight of the pretty kairi (raw mango) and the bounty of summer fruits and the sweet childhood memories associated with summer vacations.&lt;br /&gt;I take my time and test others' patience in choosing between kairi chutney or kairi rice, kairi panhe or kokam sherbet. And reflect philosophically… Life is also about choosing the greater good, isn’t it? ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-114777629634896891?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/114777629634896891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=114777629634896891' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/114777629634896891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/114777629634896891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/05/summer-woes.html' title='Summer Woes'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-114466541596519813</id><published>2006-04-10T06:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-10T06:36:55.980-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping the blog alive</title><content type='html'>March 30th was Chaitra shuddha paadva, celebrated as the Hindu New Year. It is on this day that Lord Brahma created the universe.&lt;br /&gt;Gudi Paadva is a big festival in Maharashtra. It's a public holiday and people spend time with their family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;Like during any other Indian festival. :-)&lt;br /&gt;Since it always coincided with our school exams, for few years Gudi Paadva was strongly associated with butterflies in stomach. Not any more. Now, not just paadva, but any festival brings back happy memories and smile to my face.&lt;br /&gt;We used to have Satyanarayan pooja performed at our place. The Guruji used to be super busy with many pooja to be conducted during the auspicious period. So he used to come to our place early in the morning. We used to listen to the same Satyanarayan katha year after year without getting bored. Of course we had the delicious prasad and panchamrut tirtha to look forward to at the end of the pooja.&lt;br /&gt;Mom used to prepare the bitter-sweet-sour concoction of tamarind and jaggery, spiced with cumin and a little hing. The delicate neem flowers floated on the surface. What a yummy way to start the New Year! Without being preachy, the elders taught us to enjoy our share of bitter-sweet things in life.&lt;br /&gt;After that we used to do the Gudi pooja and erect it on the terrace. It is said that on this day of Gudi Paadva, the people of Ayodhya welcomed their beloved king, Lord Rama by erecting gudis to celebrate his victory over Ravan. The Gudi which is decorated with a silk sari, neem leaves, flowers and a kalash is a symbol of hope and joy. You feel that you are part of a big celebration when you see these beautiful gudis dotting windows, terraces and balconies.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Though we were not with our parents and other loved ones to celebrate the New Year, we tried to do every small thing that we could to capture the essence of the festival. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I mentioned "butterflies in the stomach" let me give you an update.&lt;br /&gt;If you know me, I'm sure you will know that I'm a sucker for business quiz or just any quiz. So, after a long long time I got the opportunity to participate in one organized in my office. And it was every bit the fun that I had anticipated! And every single butterfly that fluttered in my stomach looking at one brilliant question after the other was worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-114466541596519813?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/114466541596519813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=114466541596519813' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/114466541596519813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/114466541596519813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/04/keeping-blog-alive.html' title='Keeping the blog alive'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-114259144377174753</id><published>2006-03-17T05:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-17T05:56:37.870-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The not-so Secret Lake</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/1600/secret%20lake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/320/secret%20lake.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picture Courtesy: Maks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bumpy ride to my office is rewarded with this beautiful view.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-114259144377174753?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/114259144377174753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=114259144377174753' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/114259144377174753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/114259144377174753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/03/not-so-secret-lake.html' title='The not-so Secret Lake'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-114182489922609445</id><published>2006-03-08T08:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-08T08:34:59.243-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rang diya basanti</title><content type='html'>You choose to be silent (or forced to be) when you have nothing to say, or when there are so many things to say and you don’t know from where to begin. Or sometimes you just don’t feel like saying anything. A bit of each of these applies to me, and hence such a long, unplanned break. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing that struck me this morning was, it's already more than 2 months into the New Year!! Man, where did all these days go? I sit down, take a moment to clear my thoughts and check out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;I don’t remember much of January at all. Except for our much-awaited vacation in the last week of January. &lt;br /&gt;Yeah, yeah...I will write about it in an independent post. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;February was work, work and work. Same for A. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The highpoint of February was to watch Rang De Basanti. The movie which you can’t ignore. Right from the moment the screen comes alive with the words &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Ab Bhi Jiska Khoon Na Khaula, Khoon Nahin Voh Paani Hai,&lt;br /&gt;Jo Desh Ke Kaam Na Aaye, Voh Bekaar Jawaani Hai"&lt;/em&gt;,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sense that this is no ordinary movie. You better be prepared for the impact which is going to knock you off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing anything about the actors, the way they have lived their characters, the way the story is told and all those sepia images of Bhagat Singh, Azad, and Bismil will just be running out of superlatives. So, I'll not try to do that.&lt;br /&gt;I'll just say that go, watch for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many moments in the film which stay with you for a long time. The carefree friendship of DJ, Aslam, Suki, Sonia, and Ajay warms the cockles of your heart. You see your friends in their faces. You shrug your shoulders at their indifference. You laugh with them. Their grief makes you cry, their anger makes you angry. Their dilemma is very much the dilemma we all face today.&lt;br /&gt;And then they do what they feel is right. They think it's their only chance to make a difference. Their only shot to awaken a generation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether the film is realistic, whether it sets the right example, I don’t know.&lt;br /&gt;But I know that it stirs you and urges you to "Be the Change" that you so desperately want to bring about in the system.&lt;br /&gt;When the film ends and the credits start rolling with the strains of “Rubaroo...Roshni" ringing in your ears, you realize that it was not just another movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-114182489922609445?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/114182489922609445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=114182489922609445' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/114182489922609445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/114182489922609445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/03/rang-diya-basanti.html' title='Rang diya basanti'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-113932696222695306</id><published>2006-02-07T10:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T10:42:42.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tag 20</title><content type='html'>Modesty has never been my strength you see. *winks* And when Jax tagged Lady K, I was not sure who he was referring to. But then I’m Lady K too! Thanks kaNo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are 20 random facts about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I love hot chocolate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I'm a self confessed hypochondriac. So, when I want to get wet in the rains which I would love to, I think about catching cold and falling sick. You know what I mean... and this is just an example. I don’t limit these theories to myself and so most of the time end up being a spoilsport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Lazing around, doing nothing, just relaxing is my idea of time well spent. This hardly happens because there are millions of to-do things spinning in my head all the time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I'm so much like the clingy crab which holds onto everything. I grow super protective of people I love and take it on myself to solve their problems. This is another reason why I can’t just relax. But I'll try pranayam for this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I remember almost everything. And I remember everything in minute detail. Dates, people, names, places, films, songs, books, long lost acquaintances, distant friends' parents' names, and everything else that I don’t want to remember. Sometimes I surprise myself with the amount of trash that I'm carrying in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I think I've grown patient with age, and my temper has mellowed a bit. Just a bit though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sometimes when I look at the mirror, I don’t recognize the other me. Thankfully this happens mostly after I get a new hair cut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I like to talk to people and I make friends very easily. But I also enjoy solitude. I need some time for myself, to think, to destress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I dread losing my loved ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-A is the best thing happened to me so far. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I'm a mama's girl and daddy's girl too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I'll always remain a mother hen to K2 and K3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I can’t express gratitude without tears in my eyes. So I generally write “thank you” notes or emails to people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I've wept like a fool while watching most of the movies till date. Be it Troy or the Rajesh Khanna starrer comedy "Bawarchi". I try to hide my tears in such situations to save embarrassment, but my stupid nose which turns deep red whenever my eyes leak catches everyone’s attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I love public speaking and have no stage fright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-My mom used to call me Gajanayani (the elephant eyed) for the narrow slits I have for eyes. And let me tell you it’s not flattering at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Most of the people who have known me for years are pleasantly surprised to see that I can cook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I've a starting problem. When I’m about to do something new, exciting, challenging I'm unsure of myself. It's like I always need someone to push me into the deep waters. From there I pick up myself and start enjoying the challenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Many people who didn’t leave favorable first impressions have later become my very good friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I like to read about exotic foods, elaborate recipes, etc but enjoy simple home made food any day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew! Now this was a tough task with rounds of filtering and re-filtering some facts and making them look as normal as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who wants to have some fun, you are tagged!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-113932696222695306?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/113932696222695306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=113932696222695306' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113932696222695306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113932696222695306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/02/tag-20.html' title='Tag 20'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-113820590856856742</id><published>2006-01-25T11:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-25T11:18:29.866-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Republic Day</title><content type='html'>Today our office building is decorated in the tri-colors. Saffron, white and green balloons, people wearing khadi outfits, sporting the Gandhi-caps and songs like "Aye Vatan, aye vatan, humko teri kasam" playing in the background, we are all geared up for the Republic Day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm wearing a tiny tricolor flag on my jacket. Every time I look at it from the corner of my eye, I feel proud. I feel extremely proud. For a moment I forget that for millions others, India is just another third world country. I forget the surprised look on the faces of my Non-Indian colleagues to see the tall buildings, wide roads, multiplexes, etc in my country. (But I enjoyed their shock to not see a single elephant on the roads!!) I forget the pain of seeing corrupt politicians ruining my country. I forget the anguish of knowing that thousands of my countrymen can’t afford even a decent meal. I forget it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tiny tricolor reminds me of my rich heritage. It reminds me of all the struggle and the sacrifice that earned us our independence. It reminds me that all Indians, wherever they are in the world are my people, we are all one. It inspires me to believe that we are making a difference in every field. And more than anything, it makes me happy to be born as Indian.&lt;br /&gt;(I know, every American or every Zimbabwean would say the same thing about their countries.) :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But for now, if you ask me, "Saare jahan se achcha, Hindustan hamara"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wishing you all a happy Republic Day!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-113820590856856742?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/113820590856856742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=113820590856856742' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113820590856856742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113820590856856742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/01/happy-republic-day.html' title='Happy Republic Day'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-113766601434597786</id><published>2006-01-19T05:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T05:20:18.760-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sankranti for me,</title><content type='html'>as a kid was all about the til-gul polis that mom made, the rangolis I drew in our courtyard and of course those kites! I remember looking at other kids fighting the kite-wars, crying out "Kkaaattt", and then running wildly after the kites won. The sky would be painted with hundreds of kites and every terrace or open space would be a venue of a noisy party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always wanted to be part of that real-action but I’ve never done that. This Sankranti with A, a kite-enthusiast, I knew I had a good chance of flying a kite.&lt;br /&gt;So, Saturday saw us at A's cousin's place. 5 mins of exchanging pleasantries and munching on the til-gul laddoos, we got down to serious business. Both A and his cousin had had kite-colored childhood. They gave us (the cousin's husband and me) the technicality of where to tie the thread, how long that should be, which manja is good quality, why kites should be attached with tails (not just tails, but very very long tails), which kite is flyer-friendly, etc. The lil-too eager audience was mighty impressed. A actually used words like "the dynamics of kite-flying, the air-resistance, body-weight of the kite, balance", etc. For a whole minute I forgot that he was talking about just a simple kite! &lt;br /&gt;The practical took place on the terrace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had no idea that we unknowingly had a traitor amongst us. A sweet traitor though. Even before our kite began to soar, A's 3 year-old nephew(S) pounced upon the thread and with all the strength of his tiny body began cutting it! Two of us tried to distract the tiny devil with a battered kite while the other two tried to fly the kite. The day saw two of our kites being swooped upon by the enemies. (They stood out with their brilliant tails, was our obituary for them.) But we also had a loot of 2 kites! Zero-sum game. Nah! Unlimited fun!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-113766601434597786?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/113766601434597786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=113766601434597786' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113766601434597786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113766601434597786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/01/sankranti-for-me.html' title='Sankranti for me,'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-113749874729511175</id><published>2006-01-17T06:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-17T06:52:27.310-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a small world!</title><content type='html'>I'm taking you on an imagination trip folks.&lt;br /&gt;Imagine. You stumble upon a blog which you like at the first click. (How clichéd me!)&lt;br /&gt;Then, you keep visiting and love it even more. And you discover that this wonderful blogger is your spouse's very good friend! What a coincidence! &lt;br /&gt;Now, this blogger traces your comments on her blog to you and somehow "smells" who you are...Remember you don’t know each other and have not ever met. What will you say? After sticking out your tongue in amazement, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, yours truly has been smiling widely reading Luxy's comment and realizing for the nth time that it's indeed such a small world!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-113749874729511175?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/113749874729511175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=113749874729511175' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113749874729511175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113749874729511175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/01/its-small-world.html' title='It&apos;s a small world!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-113707661036844427</id><published>2006-01-12T09:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-12T09:36:50.530-05:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>Thursday looks so much better!! Is it because you are already on the other half of the week and can almost smell the weekend?&lt;br /&gt;In school, I hated Sundays! Because I loved getting ready for school, cycling all the way, meeting my friends and coming back home to my smiling mom waiting at the door.&lt;br /&gt;Now like any other 5-day-a-week office goer I live for the weekends. Not that I do much during the weekends, usually it’s just the simple "joy of doing nothing" that I drink in. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursdays I fast. Not feast. I mean seriously, my relatives take fasting on the occasional ekadashis and mahashivratris so seriously that the next day their tummies ache out of overwork. Since I'm too lazy to cook sabudana, bhagar, fry fast-special savories I conveniently go the healthy way with a little fruit and milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The purpose of this post was to just write my mind. To see whether I could do it.  And ever since my mind got whiff of this, the poor thing's gone blank!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-113707661036844427?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/113707661036844427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=113707661036844427' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113707661036844427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113707661036844427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/01/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-113699839518698445</id><published>2006-01-11T11:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-11T11:53:15.236-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mid-week crisis</title><content type='html'>There's something in the air today. I just don’t feel like working. Actually none around me is in any mood to. So I though why not take a break from staring into the monitor and pretending to think something and really think something...&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm angry. I'm so very angry with myself and don’t know why. Most of the times when I've such angry thoughts, it's because I realize that there are many things I don’t have control over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, for the last few weeks, the days seem to fly past without me doing anything. I want to do so many things, but don’t know what takes priority over the other. I so much remember my Mother's advice which is so cool, especially at times like these. Before every major exam that I took and had no clue where to start studying, she used to simply say "Just start studying somewhere." And it always worked! Hope every-day problems were as easy. Do you want a peep into my list of to-do things?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-I've to arrange things in my house. It's such a MESS!! I tend to get irritated to see a speck on a washed floor. And here I can see cobwebs, laundry by the baskets, old newspapers piling, receipts,bills,envelopes lying around etc...God! I can feel my bile rising...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Then there are things like planning my investments. Just the thought of how to manage my money, how to do tax planning, how to provide for future purchases, etc is enough to give me shudders. Now, I'm a finance person. I've studied all this, but when it comes to making a real use of this stuff, WHY CANT I JUST DO IT?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are just 2 things in my 324 bulleted points in my to-do list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom, where do I start?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps. I badly hope this is just Wednesday anxiety.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-113699839518698445?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/113699839518698445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=113699839518698445' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113699839518698445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113699839518698445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2006/01/mid-week-crisis.html' title='Mid-week crisis'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-113599987463021203</id><published>2005-12-30T22:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T22:31:14.643-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year's Resolutions</title><content type='html'>Worried about the rather infrequent rate at which I blog, I went to dig something I wrote last year. Thankfully, it's a very relevant piece especially at this time of the year. Nah, in fact it's relevant any day. I've kept my promise of prosting something about New Year's Resolutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Resolve to perform what you ought,&lt;br /&gt;Perform without fail what you resolve.&lt;br /&gt;-Benjamin Franklin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure when Mr. Franklin said the above he did not count mortals like&lt;br /&gt;me. He would have never been able to understand the extremely short lifecycle of the resolutions I make. Or may be he was simply not talking about New Year resolutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stupendous track record of my resolutions would go well with the quote:&lt;br /&gt;Resolve to perform what you thought,&lt;br /&gt;Shame to you if you perform what you resolve!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like the whole world I eagerly await the New Year, albeit with a brand new diary.&lt;br /&gt;The last page is filled with the resolutions I desperately want to stick to. In fact, with very few exceptions, my resolution-list has looked the same over the years. In the mean time, I have managed to finish school, graduated from college, earned masters, started working but...but maintained a curious consistency in my R-list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know every bullet point in my beloved list by heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing has always been my grand ambition to get up early in the morning and exercise for an hour daily. This is there since I was in high school. I scratch my head to try to remember when was it that I followed this regime for at least a week... No luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition to getting up early I also religiously resolve to cut my daily sleep, learn 5 new words everyday, write a diary, learn a language, spend some time in solitude, pursue a hobby, read etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm...Needless to say I get up when everyone around me has given up the hope of politely waking me up. I still need to sleep a solid 11-12 hours a day. Who cares if you don’t find time to even say "Hi" to the people who you think live in the house same as yours?&lt;br /&gt;Daily exercise?? The thought itself is enough to burn the calories and send me on those guilt trips.&lt;br /&gt;Learning 5 new words everyday is a distant dream now...why do we have dictionary.com if we could cram all those words invented?&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've actually tried to maintain a diary. I enthusiastically buy a diary, I enthusiastically write 2-3 pages of it everyday for a week. Then suddenly my life becomes very boring and dull and I simply write a line “A normal day” or “Another hectic day”, etc for about a fortnight. Then my diary finds home at the bottom of my cupboard with older members of its community.&lt;br /&gt;I still know only those languages I learnt about 15 years ago, which my mother taught. I think I can communicate alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the bottom-line is, almost all my resolutions have met untimely end and I did not even come to know of it till it was time to make a fresh list of resolutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then why do I bother to even make these silly “I resolve to...” announcements every year? I do it because this simple activity brings so much hope!! It gives me a feeling that I've a chance to make a brand new beginning, all the mistakes and all the follies and all the falls are a thing of the past. Tomorrow is a new day and my slate is clean! My New Year resolutions have the power to make me believe that if I resolve I can be as super fit as a Wimbledon champ. I can sleep less and thus live longer. I can become a living-encyclopedia with all the reading I would do. I can become a writer and publish an autobiography with all my diaries. And the hope to live a more successful, richer and happier life stays alive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, fortunately you don’t need to make resolutions for things which really count...like smiling more, staying in touch with friends, enjoying the beauty of 'this' moment, being kind to others, working sincerely...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do we even need to wait for the New Year to make our resolutions?&lt;br /&gt;Every day is a New Day of the Year, friends!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(By the way, I've reached the height of consistency this year, I just photocopied my last year's R-list.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-113599987463021203?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/113599987463021203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=113599987463021203' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113599987463021203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113599987463021203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2005/12/new-years-resolutions.html' title='New Year&apos;s Resolutions'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-113593476461192904</id><published>2005-12-30T04:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T04:26:04.630-05:00</updated><title type='text'>**!!Happy New Year!!**</title><content type='html'>It's the last working day of 2005! The office is very quiet as most of them are off.&lt;br /&gt;I'm still not sure how I'd bring in the New Year. I'd prefer a quiet, relaxed celebration with A, at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how does the year 2006 look? Full of promise! Because I've realized (Oh sooo late) that I'm already leading my dream life! There are no worries (except those perennial pimple-bad-hair day problems), nothing that I can't handle, and love of my loved ones. I no longer need to look up to tomorrow, as today is already mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My only public resolution is to count my blessings each day. Consciously. From the bottom of my heart. I'm really thankful to God for all that I've. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are tons of old resolutions which I'll renew once again on this New Year, more out of habit. Will come back with a post on my New Years' Resolutions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till then, wish you all a very happy New Year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Then sing, young hearts that are full of cheer, &lt;br /&gt; With never a thought of sorrow; &lt;br /&gt; The old goes out, but the glad young year &lt;br /&gt; Comes merrily in tomorrow."&lt;br /&gt; (By Emily Miller)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-113593476461192904?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/113593476461192904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=113593476461192904' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113593476461192904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113593476461192904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2005/12/happy-new-year.html' title='**!!Happy New Year!!**'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-113500857375306398</id><published>2005-12-20T00:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-19T11:09:33.753-05:00</updated><title type='text'>F.R.I.E.N.D.S</title><content type='html'>In one of my previous posts I talked about my engineering college, remember folks?!&lt;br /&gt;It's that place where I've made some of the most wonderful friends...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now while I'm at it, let me take you all with me in flashback.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A group of 9, 5 girls and 4 guys. A crazy mix of personalities, attitudes, philosophies, interests, likes, dislikes, etc. I'm surprised how they all came together in first place. But once they came together, there was no looking back. &lt;br /&gt;The ties grew stronger over dabba-parties in the parking lots, canteen, lab assignments, "general" time pass and fooling around in the campus.&lt;br /&gt;They were all in what I call the "butterfly" years of their life, when no worry is bigger than that of an impending examination or a lab assignment, when nothing seems to be impossible if seen through the dreamy eyes, when friends influence young minds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last year in college flew past almost as fast as the flicking of pages of a slam book. The friends tried to hold onto these sweet memories with their cameras, they were seen everywhere with cameras in their hands, clicking away to glory! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With tearful goodbyes, promises to write, email, call each other regularly, and prayers, they parted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not the end; it was just the beginning of a new season of their friendship. They started a new life, went on to study new things, earned higher degrees, and joined big companies...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flashback's over. Cut to the present.&lt;br /&gt;Today they are all settled in different places, busy in their lives. Some are married, some are engaged, and a few are looking for those "special-ones" to tie the knot.&lt;br /&gt;All are happy, successful, blessed and still the same old friends.&lt;br /&gt;And they are extra-happy today because their friendship will soon turn a generation old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one's for you Uttara.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-113500857375306398?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/113500857375306398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=113500857375306398' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113500857375306398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113500857375306398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2005/12/friends_19.html' title='F.R.I.E.N.D.S'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-113473798007600303</id><published>2005-12-16T07:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-16T07:59:40.093-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why all these why's?</title><content type='html'>The year 2005 is slipping by and we can almost hear 2006 knocking at our door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just another day of the year, 31st of December, then why all the fuss?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do we believe that something life changing will happen with one new sunrise?&lt;br /&gt;Why do we feel like life has given us a new, clean slate to start doodling around?&lt;br /&gt;Why do we feel that all the mistakes we did, all the blunders we committed, all the work we procrastinated doing till forever, all the lies we shamelessly told,all the guilt-trips we took, all the beautiful moments -true blessings of life we missed, all the heartaches we caused to our loved ones and all those we suffered because of our loved ones, all the promises we broke, all the dried tears we ensured nobody ever saw, all the long nights spent without batting an eyelid, all the friends we lost touch with and all the if's and but's, and all the million things we would want to sweep out of our life but which continue to gnaw us...why do we feel all these are things of the past? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And again, why do most of us stay awake to see the special new year TV programs(which are "specially" getting worse) to celebrate the new year? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I dont have the answers. I'm just in that year-end thinking mode again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-113473798007600303?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/113473798007600303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=113473798007600303' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113473798007600303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113473798007600303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2005/12/why-all-these-whys.html' title='Why all these why&apos;s?'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-113388960090772444</id><published>2005-12-06T12:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T12:20:01.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mau Returns</title><content type='html'>Blog: Why such a long hiatus Mau?&lt;br /&gt;Mau: I'm sorry Blog, but there were so many things on my mind that I just don't know how days  zoomed past.&lt;br /&gt;Blog: The same old excuse, "I'm-so-busy-I dont-have-time". It's not fashionable anymore.&lt;br /&gt;Mau: Hey, but I'm back and have loads of stories to tell!&lt;br /&gt;Blog: Are they all about you?&lt;br /&gt;Mau: Of course! They have to be about "I,Me,Myself", otherwise why would they be here?&lt;br /&gt;Blog: You are such a typical, self-loving cat!&lt;br /&gt;Mau: Meow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-113388960090772444?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/113388960090772444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=113388960090772444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113388960090772444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/113388960090772444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2005/12/mau-returns.html' title='The Mau Returns'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-112790444854972129</id><published>2005-09-28T06:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-28T06:47:28.560-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Taste this!</title><content type='html'>I'm back from a micro-mini holiday which went past soooper-fast...&lt;br /&gt;I went to visit my parents in Aurangabad along with A (how our train journey to Aurangabad was an adventure in itself is a topic to be dealt with in a separate post soon). My sisters joined us and we had a splendid weekend (how I wished it would last forever.) Needless to say we ate loads and loads of all time favorite foods like puran-poli, narali bhaat, and gulab jamuns and re-discovered the absolute bliss of tucking into a meal cooked with oodles and oodles of love!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aurangabad is a growing town (almost a city) which boasts of most of the facilities of a big city and still retains the old world charm of a sleepy town. And since some of my happiest years were spent here everything associated with this historic place seems extra special to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are several monuments in and around Aurangabad which speak of its rich heritage. The world famous Ellora and Ajanta caves are very close to Aurangabad. Bibi ka Maqbara, built by the Moghul emperor Aurangzeb is called the Taj Mahal of the South. There's the Deogiri fort built by the Yadav dynasty which is better known as Daulatabad fort. Aurangzeb was so impressed by its "inconquerability" (actually I meant something which can’t be conquered) that he made it the capital of his empire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday we planned to pack our lunch and have it in some scenic spot. We drove for around 5 minutes further from Daulatabad fort and found the perfect location. Pleasant blue skies and a spellbinding view of a lake in the backdrop made a delicious meal even more enjoyable. We bought fresh guavas to go with our lunch of dhapates (yummy!!) and bhendi fry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some extremely tasty food items on my "Must Eat" list while in Aurangabad and I consider it an offence to miss any of them. The first slot is reserved for my beloved "Bhalla". This is a sort of potato patty which is drowned in tangy and sweet and spicy Kabuli channa gravy garnished with anar dana, shredded ginger, cottage cheese and cilantro. A mouthful of bhalla and I almost attain nirvana-like state. ;-) I'm eternally grateful to my friend S who introduced me to this place which goes by the very cool name of "Mathuravaasi Bhujiyawala". Very different tasting, boat shaped pani puris are also sold here but they are way too big to eat at one go.&lt;br /&gt;A place called Madhur Milan sells the most heavenly pani puris I've ever tasted (but not close to what my mom makes!).I've seen some die hard fans popping down about 30-35 puris JLT!&lt;br /&gt;Bang opposite Madhur Milan is a humble joint which is very popular for its vada pau. The savory in itself is very simple and basic in flavor. A deep fried aloo vada wrapped in a fresh pau (I like to believe that it is fresh) coated with green chutney and garlic chutney accompanied with one or two fried green chilies is filling and very reasonably priced.&lt;br /&gt;There are several decent restaurants and bakeries in the city where the crowd of hungry eaters literally spills onto the streets in the evenings. But my pilgrimage to Aurangabad is incomplete without a trip to my engineering college-the place where I spent the 4 most joyous years of my life and where I made some great friends. This college has played a big role in shaping my life and the college canteen was our most favorite hangout! Here we discussed endlessly, meaninglessly, sleepily, passionately, we made new friends and strengthened old ties over countless plates of sambar-vadas, dahi vadas, vada pau, bottles of lassi, cups of coffee, tea. The price tag of Rs 4/Rs 5 per item was so easy on our tiny wallets/purses. :-)&lt;br /&gt;There are many more places which deserve to be mentioned, but to resist my temptation of catching the next train to Aurangabad I must stop here.&lt;br /&gt;Even a mental trip to all these places makes me smile and leaves me fully refreshed. I'm sure it worked the same wonders on you all!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-112790444854972129?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/112790444854972129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=112790444854972129' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/112790444854972129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/112790444854972129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2005/09/taste-this.html' title='Taste this!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-112745799262603106</id><published>2005-09-23T02:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-23T02:46:32.636-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Something's cooking...</title><content type='html'>I'm a big fan of food. I love everything about food. Reading food blogs, watching programs devoted to food, studying eating habits of people, surfing the internet for recipes,etc. A trip to the local vegetable/fruit vendor is one of my most eagerly awaited activities. Neatly piled bright red tomatoes, brilliant green chili peppers, one or two shy red cabbages lurking behind glowing white cabbages, fresh bunches of spinach, cilantro, fenugreek, and other greens, shiny violet brinjals (eggplant)jostling for space with their greener cousins, and rows and rows of fresh produce are such a feast to the eyes. The rich aromas of onions, garlic appeal to the olfactory nerves. The salivary glands start working overtime at the thought of all the elaborate recipes that could be conjured with all these ingredients.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, my brain thinks too fast for my hands to keep pace with. So even though I know that I'm a good cook my hands need some practice before the world knows this truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This brings to me some vivid childhood memories. As long as I remember, at the onset of every summer vacation I would announce to K2 and K3 that I'll make Bharli Bhendi (BB) or Stuffed Okra for them and it sounded really exotic.&lt;br /&gt;It so happened that year after year, vacation after vacation I kept making that announcement which literally became a ritual to start the summer vacation. It's neither that I didn’t want to try cooking this delicacy for my dear sisters nor that bhendis suddenly went out of fashion during summers. It's just that some projects never really reach implementation phase. In my family, thanks to my sisters BB now means any grand/ambitious idea/plan announced (by me) with much fanfare which is sure to fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm proud to announce to the world that I have been successful to wash off the stigma associated with these gentle bhendis.&lt;br /&gt;I finally cooked some really yummy BB for A which he has qualified was indeed yummy. Now for the benefit of you all who missed out the fun I would write down the recipe. (Thanks to all those wonderful food blogs I've been reading recently I just wanted to write something like this and am kicking myself for not taking a snap of my creation.;-))&lt;br /&gt;But really, it's such a simple thing to make and so great to taste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need 1/4 kg of fresh, short and tender bhendis,&lt;br /&gt;3 medium sized onions,&lt;br /&gt;2 large tomatoes,&lt;br /&gt;Half a bunch of cilantro,&lt;br /&gt;1 juicy lemon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For cooking, we can use any vegetable oil&lt;br /&gt;For tempering, take 1 tsp cumin seed, 1 tsp mustard seeds, 1 tsp turmeric powder&lt;br /&gt;For seasoning, we need red chili powder, garam masala, salt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, we'll start with the stuffing part.&lt;br /&gt;In a frying pan, take a tbs of oil. Add mustard seeds, cumin seeds, turmeric powder and heat it. Once you hear the mustard seeds crackle add very finely chopped onions. After the onions turn golden (they smell heavenly!)add tomatoes.&lt;br /&gt;Stir 2 to 3 times so that the onions are not caramelized. Turn off the flame, season with chili powder, salt and garam masala Squeeze a lemon and add the lemon juice generously to the pan, mix it well. Taste it, hmm....delicious! Our Masala is ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turn to bhendis.&lt;br /&gt;Wash the bhendis and wipe them dry. Chop off a little bit from both the ends. Make a lengthwise slit in these bhendis and stuff each of them with the stuffing we have made.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gently arrange these stuffed bhendis in the pan (same pan in which we cooked the stuffing) in a layer so that the stuffing is not disturbed. Sprinkle a tbs of oil and the remaining stuffing masala on the bhendis and stir fry the bhendis for sometime till they are fully cooked. Decorate with chopped cilantro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serve piping hot with a dash of lemon. It goes very well with plain rotis or steamed white rice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew! I almost feel like Tarla Dalal! I can see K2 and K3 rolling their eyes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-112745799262603106?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/112745799262603106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=112745799262603106' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/112745799262603106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/112745799262603106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2005/09/somethings-cooking.html' title='Something&apos;s cooking...'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-112618160804269174</id><published>2005-09-08T07:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T02:53:23.014-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It takes three to tango!</title><content type='html'>We are three sisters, sometimes I feel we are a set of triplets, born in installments. K2 who is 2 years younger to me and K3 the baby of the family who is 1.5 years younger to K2 are God's best gifts to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fondest memories flash before my eyes in the form of Kodak moments and almost every snap of it has K2 and K3 with me.&lt;br /&gt;There I'm riding my tricycle with K2 and K3 on the back seat, we 3 are playing holi in tiny petticoats, red faced.Then we are dancing in circles swirling our white frocks, here we are enacting some skit. In one we are all college goers gossiping,laughing, preparing for exams.&lt;br /&gt;I don’t remember us fighting at all! Our sibling rivalry was of a different kind...we 3 rivaling against the rest, a fourth person was an outsider to our team. We had our little games, our own secret codes, our own interests and own little world!&lt;br /&gt;I envied K2 for that peculiar guttural "gook gook" sound she could make somehow and I couldn’t even after hours and hours of practice. And I envied K3 for that extraordinary ability of hers to lick the tip of her nose!&lt;br /&gt;(By a strange twist of fate my husband has both these supernatural qualities.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing has changed much even today except for the physical &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;distance&lt;/span&gt; between us. I don’t even need to close my eyes to visualize the angry look on K2's face while she's examining the tiny zit-which-will-soon-explode-into-a-nasty-pimple on her fair face. I don’t have to be there to feel her soft silken hair falling over her face again and again. From here I can experience the relief she feels when she realizes that it's raining outside and she doesn’t need to go out for that morning walk. And I know by heart what time of the day she would be stifling her yawns and fighting hard to stay awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know which song K3 will like to just hum in the bathroom and which song she will sing in her loudest voice as well as dance. I know which dress will make her lovely eyes pop like that... (A dhinchak black with any-color dress)I just have to see an ad for a drama workshop/magic class/trekking trip etc and I can see her beautiful face shining with excitement. I’m amused by the gay abandon with which she throws her clothes into the laundry basket and am touched by how her heart goes out to any poor salesman walking in the sun, dripping sweat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said all this, I don’t need to add that I miss being with them badly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-112618160804269174?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/112618160804269174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=112618160804269174' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/112618160804269174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/112618160804269174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2005/09/it-takes-three-to-tango.html' title='It takes three to tango!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-112601122934236813</id><published>2005-09-06T08:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-06T08:53:49.346-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Twisted Beginning</title><content type='html'>After procrastinating for what seems forever I finally signed up for a yoga class just around the corner. Ever since I was born I had this ambition of getting up early with the sun, put on some really cool work-out suit and go jogging or do some form of exercise. It never happened. Either it was too cold in the mornings, or it rained, or I didnt have good shoes or I had to study for some exams or there were many street dogs just waiting to pounce upon an unsuspecting jogger.There are many many or's and many more dogs.&lt;br /&gt;But when I realised that the marital bliss I'm basking in has given me something more than just glow and shine and which is showing in my growing girth and also on the weighing machine I knew my moment of truth had come. Either I had to take up some physical activity or I would have to donate my beloved jeans and those tight (not so tight actually) salwar kurtas I've painstakingly shopped over the years. I chose to join a yoga class.7.30 am is still early morning and still late enough to get a good night's sleep. Exactly 57 seconds walk from my house and I find myself in a hall with neatly arranged mattresses. 6 people (including me and A) and the benign,bespectacled instructor are all set.I like instructors with spectacles, dont know why, but guess that gives them a "clear" vision. I give a confident look to A and try hard to quieten my jumpy nerves. I'm scared about getting stuck in some twisted position. With gentle warm-up exercises I can feel my lazy muscles(read flab) waking up. 3-4 simple asanas with a 2 minute relaxation position(I love shavasana) and we are done for the day!! Not many twists in today's tale. We are given two dronas (lotus leafed cup) which are covered and a health drink. The health drink is brown colored tasteless liquid. "Barley water", the instructor tells us.I anticipate Sooji halwa in those covered dronas. "Sprouts" the instructor smiles behind his specs.And we have a holiday announced on the first day! A &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;healthy&lt;/span&gt; way to go!!! I chuckle to myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-112601122934236813?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/112601122934236813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=112601122934236813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/112601122934236813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/112601122934236813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2005/09/twisted-beginning.html' title='A Twisted Beginning'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16410048.post-112600963742730761</id><published>2005-09-06T08:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2005-09-06T08:27:17.430-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Hey!! Welcome to my blog!!</title><content type='html'>I me myself! I owe this phrase to my hubby dear(A).Early during our courtship A began every other sentence with I, Me or Myself. Strangely, I fell in love with this self-loving guy and decided that let's marry him and give him something else to talk about.Getting back to how my blog got this name.... So after giving a good exercise to my grey cells and after looking at hundred other blogs for inspiration I gave up,I mean I gave my blog this name. On second thoughts A's oft used phrase(which is now no longer his favourite) makes a real apt blog name! I hope all you out there would like to visit my blog and read my posts. Though I would like to issue a warning right at the onset,that most of the times I will go on writing without the reader understanding (not even for a second) what it is all about. Hey but I can assure you loads of simple, harmless fun reading.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16410048-112600963742730761?l=maubokil.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/feeds/112600963742730761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16410048&amp;postID=112600963742730761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/112600963742730761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16410048/posts/default/112600963742730761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://maubokil.blogspot.com/2005/09/hey-welcome-to-my-blog.html' title='Hey!! Welcome to my blog!!'/><author><name>Kavs</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15782952908742452819</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6503/1350/200/my_photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
