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How much is this site worth??

I don’t believe this

website worth

My site is worth $99,762,081
How much is yours worth?


Have you ever heard-

The rhapsody of tear drops?

Have you ever heard-

The droplets that create silence?


Have you ever heard-

The symphony of smile?

Ever heard the sonata-

Tumbling out of breathless giggle?


Have you ever felt your heart-

Beating to the music of twinkling eyes?

Your hands clutching tenderly-

The moist song of worm fingers?


Have you ever seen life sing,

Without a single word?

Knew the whole story,

Without anyone telling it?

Melt into arms without body-

Flow in tunes without lyrics-

Losing ‘you’ among ‘you’-s-

And finding one note in an orchestra!


The life beacons…


As on today.. this space of some who claimed to be "Eternal Optimistic" gets lost in Space…

May be in some other space and time…
May be in some parallel world..
May be…
May be…

May 2008

Best Friend


You have friends and then you have best friends. Who are these best friends? Those with whom we used to exchange marbles, knowing that we can get them back if we ask? Those with whom we used to spend those summer afternoons on the mango trees? Those with whom we used to have countless class bunks to have fun on the street?


“Do you know who this is? This is IC Kaku, my best friend. Tell me the name of your best friend-“

“I do not have best friend. I have a girl friend, her name is Samhita.” That was Sudeep’s 5-years old, Bob.


“Don’t people have those best friends anymore? Why do we need them? “

“I think the basic reason is to share”

“Share what?”

“That’s a big question; what do you feel?”

“I think you are right; it is definitely to share, as we shared. And remember, the main criteria was we never thought about what to share”


I remember another Sudip, Sudip who was not “Deep” but just “Dip”, saying to one of the numerous girls he knew, “This is Indro, he is my first love”. Have heard these statements from a many. There have been males and females who has openly shared their thoughts, feelings and life with me. Without ever bothering to think, what to share. And they knew they will get what they expect.


Then who is my “Best Friend” among all these? Have I shared with anyone without thinking what to share? Have I shared my life? Well definitely yes. I have shared parts of my life with many; even tried sharing the whole with one. But all those who used to call me Best Friend, I have not shared a lot, at times; because I thought “they” might not feel good sharing it. And thought if I am really required to share it, they will take it out from me themselves. That never happened; may be I was wrong.


I felt, it is someone with whom I can share everything in life, even when I am not sharing. I can tell that person anything, when I want as I want. I know how amazing it feels to be the “Best Friend” of anyone. That On Top of The World feeling – for someone so special. But much much more than that is to know, that you have a best friend, with whom you can share, everything in life, as they happen, when you want and without thinking what to share. Do I have one?

The new Tag

Again tagged by more than one… for the sake of space freindship…

If you comment on this post (saying anything at all):
1. I’ll respond with something random about you
2. I’ll challenge you to try something
3. I’ll pick a color that i associate with you
4. I’ll tell you something i like about you
5. I’ll tell you my first/clearest memory of you
6. I’ll tell you what animal you remind me of
7. I’ll ask you something i’ve always wanted to ask you
8. If i do this for you, you must post this on yours

Second part to the tag:

1. Never thought I will come across such a person, again, a life changing event – and so fast…
2. Am amazed of complexity in your thoughts; sometimes like a desert night and sometime a flowery meadow
3. A child like abundence, with a thousand masks, hiding the pain yet mocking all of them facing life…

The Home Stretch


Bags are packed, stuff’s bought are stacked, ready to hit
the road… mmmm… air  – again.


The last stretch of the trip was supposed to be taken
easily. However woke up on Monday with a strange feeling. A feeling that
prompted me to take on the life by its horns, and work myself till I collapse.
So frantically made calls to office, took numbers and details, made further
calls locally and loaded the days with more work. Boss woke up to a strange
surprise. Don’t think he was expecting this kind of last three days, but as a
boss he had to fall in line.


So scooting down to the suburbs again on the British train
lines. First Stop Cambridge, couple of calls after coming back and running down
to Fulham. Busy – busy – busy. Hardly any time to stuff the stomach. Taking the
bites on the go, bagels and baguettes. Not that I liked those dry breads too
much but those were the only alternatives. A huge Blueberry Muffin in between.
Making calls and scoring, good day at work. Came back, an upset stomach, and a
body craving to hit the sack. A bottle of Balnc de Blanc to go with the Greek
Vege dinner, and pooped on the bed. Too humid night with only a table fan to
cool off, kept shifting on the bed till late night, and then passing off
sometime during the night.


Woke up again, made some more calls and a call back home.
Some voices make you week in knees, so it happened. The mind and heart cooled
down, yet the momentum was already on the roll, so rushed out early. This time
to Milton Keynes, and taking a taxi to a village (??) called Onley, a publisher
who supposedly publishes journal which are Ferraris and Aston Martins. Met a
Doctorate in Automotive Engineering from Cairo, owning the publication, married
to a Brit and father of five and settled down in the peaceful village with a
huge house named Pastures. Never knew Egyptians can talk so much, though
cracked the deal and this was one of the most important prospect we came here
to meet.


Coming back to Milton Keynes on his eight year old Merc
still running as smoothly as ever. Took a foot-long Sub, which Mr. Mitra felt
was standing in his stomach hitting his throat. Another cab to Open University.
The cabbies here are mostly Pakistani, and amazingly very friendly. This one is
in UK since 1965, father of two, with sun working with an engineering firm and
daughter completed a master’s degree in- guess what? Psychology. Suddenly I am
seeing a bunch of people expert in Psychology. Another good meeting and more
business. Hoping back on a fast train back to city. While Mr. Mitra was again
interested in some shopping, he caught me making more meetings. But this time I
got the flak. He knew the condition I was in last night. So had to abandon the
plans, though completed the last meeting already set. Mmmmm, there was another
scolding earlier during the day from Mr. Mitra the elder brother for smoking a
bit too much for last couple of days.


While he went on in his buying spree, I stood on the road
mostly, watching the march of cocktail crowds, and making friends with you know
whom. After a while both supposedly retired back after a pure veg keralite
dinner, no booze; once he was in, I went out to have a quite walk on the night
of the city roads. Wanted to see the city in a different light. Empty street,
with occasional couples trooping back, a few friends enjoying smoke on the
front steps, and an elderly lady struggling to cross the road with two huge
packets and a walking stick. Couldn’t resist walking with her a few blocks with
the load and her hand on my shoulder; amazing similarity who passed away 9
years back, who meant a lot for me. The last lady who actually knew me in and
out. With disbelief in her eyes he gave me a kiss on my forehead, and I felt I
have got all that I needed from the trip.


Wednusday – the few meetings that I was trying for were
cancelled. Stayed back late, had a late English breakfast, and continued with
our shopping. Now was the time when I decided to go for the shopping spree.
Lots of people back home awaiting for some souvenir, from son, friend, dada and
…… Two huge bag full of stuff, and the heat was killing. Mr. Mitra wanted to
go in a movie to cool off and pass the time. My preference was a museum or at
least some time in a park. Went to Leicester Garden, enquired the shows in
Odeon, tickets started from GBP 12.50. More than a 1000 bucks? But since the
senior partner so insisting, bought two tickets for “Pirates of the Caribbean –
The Dead Man’s Chest”. He knew I will be interested in these kind of movie.
There was quite some time to spend before it begun. So walked down to china
town, had a gratifying meal and walked back to sit in the park around which all
the halls were. It was a sultry afternoon, where people preferred to shed their
shirt and take a nap in the park. We sat calmly in one of the benches, and soon
I was lost in thoughts. The little friends were having a blast with the pigeons
around and I whistled merrily. Some of the tunes were from Bangla movies much
before my time, and Mr. Mitra was surprised to hear the tunes I liked and still
remembered. So few people actually knows others.


The movie was kind of good apart from the end. The hall was
huge but there were only about 30 people in place of about 1000. Came out, had
the typical Mr. Mitra jig on the street. People not sure about of themselves
really pisses me off, but I have learnt to keep my emotions under cover. He
will invariably run in one direction, stop and say, “No I guess we should go in
the other direction”, a few paces and stop, turn around, “No,  this should be better”; stop, look around,
run to a third direction, and after a few paces, “I think we have done a
mistake; we should have taken the first direction; that would have been much
better.” I mean, why cant one stop, decide on one and stick to it.


Again a bottle of Italian wine, the last one before we
leave, and may be for a long time to come for me too, as I cant enjoy a drink
alone. Indian food, and bidding the our Bangladeshi friend bye. He said Good
Bye, and as I say, I told him, I never say good bye, for me its – “till we meet
again!” Back in hotel, went online, checked the mails, none were there.
Shifting on bed as usual passing off somewhere in the middle. Woke up late,
called up people back home, packed my stuff. While I was finishing up this
entry, got a call from Mr. Mitra, the Egyptian doctor has already sent work –
good ending.


Soon will be back in my house, the weekend spent on making
it hospitable. There will be a lot of people awaiting my return. Some will be
more eager than others, while preferring to say the otherwise. I know I will be
going back to some routine that has become part of life, a part of life that
has brought a few shades of color in the black and white sketch. Still running
towards the dream, a dream most says is just a wild goose chase. Yet, that’s my
dream, and “deep in my heart, I do believe, I shall overcome – some day”

Hitting the Road – Blore to Pune n Back

So I was traveling. Didn’t tell ne one infact. It was more a duty than a vacation. First I packed mom on the AC 2 tier on Hampi Express and then went to the Doc the next day morning. Doc told me to take a five-day bed rest to improve my lower back, and gave me two kinds of pill. Took the pills all right, but the agenda was un-postponable. So just prayed to my gods and went to the bus stop in the evening. Took the ticket to Hospet, and boarded the Rajhans bus.



Well it was supposed to be a uneventful journey, only event I have to mention is sighting of this frail beauty, who boarded the bus after all the seats were full along with her uncle. She was lightly built, like those rowboats that move fast, yet gracefully. She had a face that can help the traffic department of any city, with a few strands of hair disturbing the view. The strands apparently have revolted from the long braid that adorns the graceful back clad in the yellow dress. She decided to sit on the aisle just beside me, till the two gentlemen sitting in front of me got down at some stop. The bus was dark, so only had a few glimpses while we disembarked for a break in between and couple of times when the conductor chose to turn the light on for some reason and SHE chose to lift her head from her slumber. It was just some casual glimpses and she got down alone at Chikmagalur; but believe me, these are faces that are hard to forget and I was hoping if only I had taken this journey some year’s back!



Reaching Hospet, my PR activities were in full swing. Used all my marketing experience and tried to bowl all and sundry to make life for my Bro and her Fiancée a bit easier. Took a trip to all those place with mom and Aruna (Bro’s Fiancée) where they spent their time during the college days. And at the end of the day, finally got a good feedback that her parents has consented. So we boarded the semi sleeper bus,, and again took on the roads (second night on the trot in a bus) and reached Pune in the wee hours of 30th.


Spent the day with Bro and mom on streets of Pune and with lots of Marvel and DC comics. Next day morning Aruna arrived with more good news, and I cooked a delicious “Dahi Chicken”, with Aruna trying to learn the nuances of non-veg cooking, and Bro supplied the Jira Rice. In the evening it was again time to say good-bye. I boarded the Kingfisher jet as it left the tiny airport of Pune, and before I could finish my first para of this entry, we were landing. Reached Bangalore, preparing for the solo journey of life again as I was preparing to meet the 2006 head on…

Long Live Antidepressants !!

I twisted and turned with my memories and kept on whining and thinking what to do wid them; lotsa ppl told lot many things – but cudnt digest ne one of them; – and then thought whadda hell. I am living and will live it fully till I die. So looked for those antidepressants. One big dose is coming soon; she is getting airlifted on Monday – the best mood-booster for all – ever. She has been there since my birth – u know who!!


But till then what? So – I turned to Disney, Pogo, CN and…. Woooooo! The dose of “Just for laugh – Gags”, Alladin, Little Mermaid, Justice League, can do wonder to me neday. Then there was a night of “Rise of the nations” (till 3 O’clock in the morning), and Archie accompanying me for the in between times (while cooking and in the loo too). And here I am all fresh and ready to fight all that dares to confront…

Bring em on, king Horus stands tall!

Just an update…

This one is an update for an updates sake…


First of all, is it necessary to know a persons age to form an opinion about him or her? Isnt his or her mind and soul more important that the age of the body? For example I might be physically in the group of Grandpas as mentioned by Supriya, but I gel best with a group not mentioned by her… which is the toddler and tiny tots. When I was in Noida I was to regularly play with the kids in the locality… so which group I should be put in?


Neway, it doesn’t matter for me, if I am 20 or 80 as I know in my heart I am and always will be the The Child Who Was A King.


Now to make this entry a bit more meaningful, I want to mention one advert I am seeing recently. Though my update on “Bindaas Best & Really Rotten” is a week away, I couldn’t stop mentioning this one. The advert is for Times of India, and has captured the essence of the brand excellently.  From “Mirajkar dropped from the hockey team” to “Mirajkar selected…”; the old celebrating the arrival of the new generation, from heartbreak to glory – siiimply marvelous. The effort to read through the broken reading glass, the feet trying to move, and the hand and body that tries to dance, too good.


Lastly, I guess once I unpack my stuff this week, I will be able to use my Nokia 6255 to add some more of my Ganesha creation to the sketched ones put up in my album.

Should I? – Shouldn’t I?

Sometime I get confused. Why is it so difficult to love? All I wanted was to give out love to as many as possible, and unconditionally. I don’t expect anything in return. But it seems that even when I am trying to give it out, those whom I give have their own plans. They become possessive and expect me to give only to one, even when that one person is getting more than what can be managed. Or they give little value to what they get, yet expect to keep on getting what they are getting.


Too much of confusion. All I want is to see people happy, as many people as possible. As I am happy when I see a happy face. Yet the more I try, more unhappy, unsatisfied faces crops up! What do people expect me to do? Can I ever see happy faces only? Or should I again go back to my seclusion?

Ode to Father !

At 4 Years My daddy is great.

At 6 Years My daddy knows everybody.

At 10 Years My daddy is good but is short tempered

At 12 Years My daddy was very nice to me when I was young

At 14 Years My daddy is getting fastidious.

At 16 Years My daddy is not in line with the current times.

At 18 Years My daddy is becoming increasingly cranky.

At 20 Years Oh! Its becoming difficult to tolerate daddy. Wonder how Mother puts up with him.

At 25 Years Daddy is objecting to everything.

At 30 Years It’s becoming difficult to manage my son. I was so scared of my father when I was young.

At 40 Years Daddy brought me up with so much discipline. Even I should do the same.

At 45 Years I am baffled as to how my daddy brought us up.

At 50 Years My daddy faced so many hardships to bring us up. I am unable to manage a single son.

At 55 Years My daddy was so far sighted and planned so many things for us. He is one of his kind and unique.

At 60 Years My daddy is great!!!

Thus, it took 56 years to complete the cycle and come back to the 1st stage!

So Don’t waste time and Never forget your parents !!!

Someone Said… and I follow –

"- work as if you don’t need money, 
– love as if nobody never ever hurt you, 
– dance, as if nobody can see you, 
– sing, as if nobody can hear you, 
– live, as if the Earth was a heaven."


To hell with them !!

Characters – they are funny. No matter how much you try helping them, no matter how much you try proving that you care, they will abandon you and stab your back in the first chance they get. Why the hell they don’t care, why don’t they care that I care.


I know I say expectations are bad and I expected again. But …


I don’t know why they stab their own feet. I can see it, I could have told them also, but only if they wanted to listen. I know they will fall flat on their face, but I cant help them, coz they don’t want it.


Characters in their bid to go up, try to dump the same people from whom they seek assitance, may be a few days back. Anyway, its my fault I expected ! To hell with them and all those who don’t want me. Time has shown me, that I am rarely wrong in judgment of situations. And I also know people who abandoned me or I abandoned them, have fallen; I also know that I might be tempted to help them – but I wont!!


To hell with those who don’t want me, I have my own life and all those who want me..