tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38770358858898314712024-02-19T12:43:02.541+05:30Crazy 4 YouAnjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-30962015431213860972013-01-14T23:40:00.002+05:302013-01-14T23:40:16.785+05:30Reverse a string by words<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Wow! Accidentally created a nice code to reverse a string by words.
Reversing a string is easy, but the problem arises when we have to
reverse the word positions.<br />
<br />
Target: This is a good string => string good a is This<br />
Strategy: Simply reverse the whole string and then reverse each word<br />
Code:<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> char str1[] = "This is a good string";</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> size_t j = strlen(str1)-1;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> //Step to reverse the whole string</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> for (size_t i=0; i<strlen font="font" i="i" j="j" str1="str1"></strlen></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> swap(str1[i],str1[j]);</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> }</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> //Step to reverse each word, word by word </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> stack<char> stk;</char></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> for (size_t i=0; i<=strlen(str1); ++i){</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> if ( (str1[i] != ' ') && (str1[i] != '\0') )</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> stk.push(str1[i]);</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> else {</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> while(!stk.empty()){</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> cout<<stk .top=".top" font="font"></stk></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> stk.pop();</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> }</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> cout<<" ";</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> }</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> }</span></div>
Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-46235590216603452672010-11-07T23:55:00.000+05:302010-11-07T23:58:16.095+05:30<p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Since morning I’m feeling pissed off. Now, don’t bother to ask why. Even if you do you won’t get anything other than a blank look from me.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">I’m feeling sleepy and groggy too. I have to reach home early today, so I came to work early. My PoW (place of work) expects we to do so. If that’s not torture then what is?</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">The bus to PoW is supposed to drop me at a bus stand 1 kilometer away but it dropped me 1 and half kilometer away. I can do without this forced morning workout. I didn’t like it at all; the walk I mean. Anything out of normal worries me.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">I am a sissy at heart. To hide that, I force myself to stare at a lizard or a grasshopper, especially when some nubile nymphet is hovering around. Meanwhile I pray they don’t jump on me, either the bug or the nymph; that would have catastrophic consequences to one and all.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">My stomach is upset. When is it not? When the food is good it revolts, when not so good it revolts. I guess my stomach is yet to get used to food even after sub-30 years of conscientious effort on my part to feed it. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">That speaks a lot about me. At times I feel I’m so bereft of ambition. That’s scary, isn’t it? But I don’t feel scared about it. For me that’s scary.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Something else is scary too. I am a closeted violent person. Today I saw an ugly guy with a beautiful girl, again. I felt like killing the ugly guy, again. I did not do anything, again.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">I think I’m writing junk. I’m sure you agree too.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">The CWG games are going on smoothly, at least by the yardstick of the ruckus it created before the games started. That’s adding to my frustration. An event in India is no event unless there’s some foreign hand showing up once in a while. But till now the hand has been conspicuous by its absence. I don’t like that. Since morning I have scourged through 3 national, 1 international and 1 irrational (Dawn Pakistan) papers but none of them have anything bad to say about CWG.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Yesterday men’s Hockey team lost to Australia big time. Well, when it does not? Most of the channels did not care to carry the news. Well when do they? </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Road to my PoW is all dug up. I don’t like coming to office jumping about. I can do without this forced morning workout. Oh, I think I’m repeating my words. Ignore this one or the last one; whichever is convenient for you.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Talking about jumping, someone from India won bronze in gymnastics yesterday. The kid was jumping around like a 4 year old but without his shoes on. Yet he got the medal. I don’t know if gymnasts are not allowed to wear shoes or the poor boy could not afford one. Or maybe the security personnel did not allow him in with his shoes on. The kid won a medal. Ahh! repeating again. But he could have done better with some slippers on.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">By the way I want to meet the performer who came last. Maybe that poor fellow was also having a bad day. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">So there’s somebody who also had a bad day. That makes me feel better already.</p>Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-65631739880421436502009-11-05T19:44:00.000+05:302009-11-18T10:22:10.804+05:30Perl<span class="f16" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><b>Perl (for me)</b></span><br /><span class="f12" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> <p>1. How chomp can be screwed up<br /></p><div style="margin-left: 40px;">########################<br /><br />#! /usr/bin/perl -w<br /><br />$/="something";<br /><br />chomp ($name = <stdin>);<br /><br />#chomp $name;<br /><br />print "$name\n";<br /><br />########################<br /><br /><br /><br />Now what happens is chomp won't remove the newline. It will remove<br />'something'!!!<br /><br />This is because $/ by default is set to "\n" and we have set it to<br />'something'.<br /><br />Good thing to remember.<br /></stdin></div><br /><br />2. Something about Lists<br /><br /><div style="margin-left: 40px;">########################<br /><br />#! /usr/bin/perl -w<br /><br />@abc= ("a","b","c","d");<br /><br />print @abc,"\n";<br /><br />print "@abc\n";<br /><br />########################<br /><br />OUTPUT<br /><br />abcd<br /><br />a b c d<br /><br /></div><br />3. Printing arrays in so many ways (Look at ***5***)<br /><br /><div style="margin-left: 40px;">#######################<br /><br />#! /usr/bin/perl -w<br /><br />@abc= ("a","b","c","d");<br /><br /><br /><br />print "\n***1***\n";<br /><br />for ($x=0;$x<=$#abc;$x++) { print "$abc[$x]"; } print "\n***2***\n"; for $x (0..$#abc){ print "$abc[$x]"; } print "\n***3***\n"; foreach $alphabet (@abc){ print "$alphabet"; } print "\n***4***\n"; foreach (@abc){ print "$_"; } print "\n***5***\n"; foreach (@abc){ print ; } </div><br /><br /><div style="margin-left: 40px;">print "\n***6***\n";<br /><br />print @abc[0..$#abc],"\n";<br /></div><br /><br />4. Using 'Last'<br /><br /><br /><div style="margin-left: 40px;">#######################<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="margin-left: 40px;">#! /usr/bin/perl -w<br /><br />@alphabets = ('a','b','c','d','e','f','g','h','i');<br /><br />foreach $letter (@alphabets) {<br /><br /> print "$letter\n";<br /><br /> last if $letter=~/e/;<br /><br />}<br /><br />#######################<br /><br /></div><br />5. Splice<br /><blockquote>#######################<br />#! /usr/bin/perl<br /><br /><br /><br />@vowels = ('a','e','i','o');<br /><br />@alphabets = ('a','b','c','d');<br /><br />&display;<br /><br />splice (@vowels,0,0, @alphabets);<br /><br />&display;<br /><br /><br />sub display{<br /><br /> print "Vowels: @vowels\n";<br /><br /> print "Alphabets: @alphabets\n";<br /><br />}<br />#######################<br /><br /><br />6. HASH<span class="f12" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br /><div style="margin-left: 40px;">########################<br /><br /> foreach $x (sort hash_val_descending (keys(%hash_val))) {<br /> print OUTFILE "$x \, $hash_val{$x} \n";<br /> }<br /> print "\nOUTPUT FILE: merged.csv\n";<br /><br /> close OUTFILE;<br /> close INFILE;<br />}<br /><br />sub hash_val_descending {<br /> $hash_val{$b} <=> $hash_val{$a};<br /></div></span><br /><br /><div style="margin-left: 40px;"><br /></div></blockquote></span>Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-40152677026014610402009-04-20T09:54:00.000+05:302009-04-20T09:58:23.316+05:30IF<span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);">If you can keep your head when all about you</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"> Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"> If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"> But make allowance for their doubting too,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"> If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"> Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"> Or being hated, don't give way to hating,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"> And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:</span><br /><br /> <span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);">If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"> If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"> If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"> And treat those two impostors just the same;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"> If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"> Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"> Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);"> And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"> If you can make one heap of all your winnings</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"> And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"> And lose, and start again at your beginnings</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"> And never breath a word about your loss;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"> If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"> To serve your turn long after they are gone,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"> And so hold on when there is nothing in you</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);"> Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"</span><br /><br /> If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,<br /> Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,<br /> If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;<br /> If all men count with you, but none too much,<br /> If you can fill the unforgiving minute<br /> With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,<br /> Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,<br /> And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"> --Rudyard Kipling</span>Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-30160534802668842832009-01-21T13:56:00.000+05:302009-03-10T19:26:23.104+05:30Technical<span style="font-weight: bold;">Makefile</span><br />cp a b . ; \<br />cp c . ;<br /><br />The \ indicates that both the cp are to be done on the same shell, that is they will be inclusive. But if I remove the '\' the cp commands will be exclusive. They will be executed with a break in continuity.<f2><ctrl><enter><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">BASH<br /></span>Searching and changing permission of files and folders<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>FILE<br />find . -name "*" -type f -exec chmod 444 {} \; -print<br /><br />DIR<br />find . -name "*" -type d -exec chmod 555 {} \; -print<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">SCP</span><br />All of us have faced this problem one time or the other. We do a scp, and midway through the process scp feels knotty(naughty). The solution is rsync. To resume a partially scp-ed file we use rsync.<br /><br /><u>THE PROBLEM</u><br />$> scp <thefile>anjan@server1:/a/b/xyz<br />95% complete<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Connection timed out <span class="moz-smiley-s2"><span> :-( </span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><u>THE SOLUTION</u></span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">$> rsync --partial --progress anjan</span></span><thefile>@server1:/a/b/xyz<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><u>VIM Tip</u></span><br /></thefile></thefile></enter></ctrl></f2><p>1. There are lots of other neat things you can do with block selects. Here is a way of adding a string to the end of each line, like so: </p><p>i. Press Ctrl+V and then j to extend the selection to all the lines you want.<br /></p><p>ii. Press $. This will create a 'ragged edge' selection that extends to the right end of each line in your selection. </p><p>iii. Press A. I inserts text at the beginning of a block selection, A appends text at the end of a block selection. </p><p>iiii. Type your text and press Esc. </p>2. To search for ':' and remove everything in the line after that<br />:%s/:.*$//gc<br /><br />3. All words are jumbled in one line. The must be put in separate lines...<br />:%s/\ /\r/g (search blanks and replace with return; globally)<br /><br />4. map = j$?\/d$<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">PERL<br /></span><span>To chk if the process whose pid is known is alive or dead<br /> <span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><f2><ctrl><enter><thefile><thefile>#! /usr/bin/perl<br />$exists = kill 0, <some>$PID ;<br />if ($exists) {print "YES\n";} else {print "NO\n";}<br /></some></thefile></thefile></enter></ctrl></f2>Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-81195191712674861122009-01-02T16:05:00.000+05:302009-01-02T16:53:24.847+05:30Lets plan a trip and skip the meet<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="body" >To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.</span><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><br /></span><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">-R.L. Stevenson</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">So aptly said but not so widely appreciated. A new year has dawned upon us. Old and new calenders have changed places. Till yesterday what decked our desks has now been relegated to the bin. Give the new a chance is what seems to be the </span><i style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">mantra. </i><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">These were the thoughts when I woke up in the morning. I immediately left my bed and went to the living room. Subhro was already up and he was already looking at the new calender. In many things our frequencies match.</span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br />Turn turn sift sift...yes here is the holidays list. "Wow, so many 4 day weeks this year". I said, "look 26th Jan is a Monday".</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> "Why not plan something?"</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"Plan what", came the instant retort from Subhro.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"Plan anything you fool."</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"So be it if you insist. Let's wake up early", quipped Subhro in all seriousness, "and catch the live telecast from </span><i style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Rajpath</i><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> from the very beginning. I never seen it from the beginning. Ages ago when I was 5-6 my mom once pulled me out of the bed early; I was all groggy and very annoyed and..."</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"Ah cut the crap. Someone please do something with this fellow. Well what can I say, other than curse my luck to be talking to you".</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"What do you mean? You yourself asked me to plan something and I did. God! if I do I am damned, if I do not then also I am damned" said Subhro in a mocking anger. He knows very well how to annoy me.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"It was not your fault, planning, thinking, contemplating, I should not associate these words with you".</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />This is our general lingo. Nobody takes offense. But the other person always waits for the chance to give back in the same coin as soon as possible.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"I was thinking of a trip." I said.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"Great. As a matter of fact I was also thinking about it. I have shortlisted on either Goa or Pondicherry". "Both places are very similar yet very distinct too".</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />That's the fun part with Subhro my room mate and in many ways my alter-ego. We can think alike.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"Exactly my thought". I have already thought of these two places with a bit of a tilt towards Pondicherry. I told this to Subhro and it seemed he also agreed to it.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />I am not the bag packer type tourist who just has to pick the sack and start the journey. I love to plan and plan hard. More than the tour it's the planning which fills me with joy and excitement. Many don't agree though.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"So how are we going". "Car or bus or train may be. If we are going to Goa then car is not a very good option. so we need to fix on the place".</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"The weekend is Friday 23rd, Sat 24th, Sun 25th and finally 26th Monday. Pondi takes 8hrs, we start </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">earliest</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> morning at around 4:00. We can take Bangalore-Krishnagiri-Chennai-Pondicherry route or the Chennai route but that will add some extra Kms. I heard that Chennai route is good so many people take it. We need to find someone who has been there rcently". Subhro continued, "10hrs is my estimate. So ideally we should be there by 2:00pm unless we plan to stop at </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Gingee Fort</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">. So anyway we can be there by 6pm". "We can make a booking in the Aurobindo Ashram"</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"We can not take accomodation in the Ashram, remember. No late nights no </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Khamba</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">".</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />Suddenly Subhro jumped off the chair. It's already 8 and today is not a holiday.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />"Do some more reserach. We have to chalk out the trip ASAP. Oh yeah today you have your client call so don't be late on first day..." and saying this Subhro marched into the bathroom.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />He had his revenge.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-37791645988314972472008-11-22T21:19:00.000+05:302008-12-30T16:07:15.809+05:30Rain and youAfter so long a pleasant Saturday evening all to myself, but I want to share it with you.<br /><br />The raindrops, the tinkling of your bangles, the smile, a golden streak of sun ray peeking from behind the clouds. Has anyone seen the color of longing? I think I have, the crimson color of pain mixed with the blue color of excitement. Add to it some silver and golden hues of the overcast sky, it had rained the whole day. I wish you were here. I know it will be too much to ask for, I know you don't care. But still deep inside an ache, a pain...the pain of longing or of yearning.<br /><br />The window still is shut tight, but the heart...a fool looks back again and again and again some more... if only once by mistake it opens and the breeze carries the wisp of your scent....<br /><br />Yes I am mad, but for you.Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-62717760567185494842008-11-22T19:38:00.000+05:302010-07-24T14:23:58.373+05:30The trip (Finale: back to Bangalore)To read the First and Second part of the journey...<br /><a href="http://anjansantra.blogspot.com/2008/09/trip-phase-ii-pune-shirdi.html">Phase-II (Pune-Shirdi)</a><br /><a href="http://anjansantra.blogspot.com/2008/09/trip-phase-i-bangalore-belgaum.html">Phase-I (Bangalore-Belgaum)</a><br />How irritating....the last phase of the trip has erased, no not from memory, but from the draft.<br /><br />We reached Shirdi at around 1:00am. We fooled around the place for an hour and finally settled for a small hotel. We parked our luggage, took bath and immediately left for the temple. There drooling and half asleep we stood in the queue and at 4:30 the temple doors opened. We ran towards the sanctum santorium and got a good seat in front of <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Baba</span>. The place had some ethereal aura and charm. We were there for 2 hours and then came out. On our way back to the hotel we purchased some sweets and condiments.<br /><br />Back to the room we immediately jumped onto the bed to gather some sleep. But for me sleep was nowhere near. The heart and mind was covered with black clouds of angst agony and bitterness. I seemed <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Baba</span> has not bothered to provide any relief or a healing touch to this <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">paapi.</span><br />But how wrong I was. Lord answered me, not with the answer I wanted but with an answer that was proper. About that later.<br /><br />Its 10:30 time to start for Shani Shignapur. Its a place where people do not have door in there houses, neither do the shops have shutters. Here the villagers believe no body dare steal as this area is guarded by Lord Shani, son of Lord <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Yama</span>.<br /><br />The heat was rising. After staying in Bangalore for more than 2 years I had forgotten the Delhi heat. The heat here reminded me of the Delhi summer. By 3 when we returnd to Nashik we were sapped of all our energy and were longing for something cooler. After looking here and there we found a AC restaurant, but alas there was no power. And anyway by the look of the place it did not seem that made any difference. We doubted if they actually turned on the AC ever.<br /><br />We had our lunch, with their permission sat there for one more hour afterwards. With our batteries recharged and our enthusiasm bit restored we walked towards the Bus stand for our next destination, Nashik.<br /><br />We started from Shirdi for Nashik at around 6:00pm. After we had traveled around 10-15 kms, suddenly I got the answer to the question I had posed to <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">baba.</span> What a relief.<br /><br />The <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">sarkari </span>bus took around 2 and half hours to reach Nashik main bus stand...a dark desolate bus stand. We took a rickshaw and came to old-CBS. People said good hotels are mostly located there. It's near panchwati. Oh! BTW, Nashik derives its name from <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Ramayana's aranya kanda</span>. Surpanakha had her nose cut here by Lakshman, brother of Lord <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Rama.</span><br /><br />Near CBS we got a decent lodging. I have forgotten the name of the hotel, but we did bargain and got a discount of around Rs, 50, money well saved. I think the room cost us 350/-.<br /><br />We immediately informed Kiran 'Loku' and then started for dinner. We had chapati subzi in a small eatery and then walked around the locality till 10:30. In the meanwhile I tried to pry some inside news regarding, "you know who :-D".<br /><br />After long last we returned to room to gather some sleep. don't forget in the last 3 nights we had travelled. So we had a much needed sleep.<br /><br />4:30am and time to wake up, the lord of Nashik, 13th Joytirling beckoned. We got ready and left for bus stand at 5:30. The bus was at 6:15. We reached our destination during the cool period of the day. There we had a grand <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">darshan</span>, followed by a darshan of <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Gomukh, </span>the start point of Godavari.<br /><br />By 12:00 we were back. Mukul was mad for <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Vada pao</span>. I am yet to decipher people's craze for this Vada pao. Anyway, we went to a famous shop and Mukul had it to his hearts content. After he was full we moved to our regular restaurant for my lunch, rice and curd.<br /><br />Then we returned to our room, gathered our belongings and reached bus stand for bus to Mumbai. We badly wanted AC bus, but more badly we wanted to reach Mumbai to catch our flight back.<br /><br />At the bus stand some beautiful babes were waiting for some bus. Suddenly we saw a <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">dabba</span>, or a contraption of a bus to Mumbai. Even before we could think if we will spend some time ogling at the gals, we were running for the bus. Just image the scene... Mukul running after the bus with a <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Gumcha </span>waving, and I following him. A typical Hindi filmi scene, only there were no damsel, only a bus to catch. But the girls at the bus stand were beautiful.<br /><br />By 5:00 we reached Mumbai and in half an hour we were in front of the Airport. A middle aged couple from Delhi joined us for the taxi ride from the bus stand to the port. They did not let us share the fare. the gentelman paid the full fare...after all they were from Delhi, <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">shaher </span>of <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Dilwaley.<br /><br /></span>After we had satisfied ourselves with the location of the airport we started for <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Juhu </span>beach <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">chowpaati </span>to have some evening snacks. How we reached there and what all we ate will take up one more blog chapter. But by 8:30 we were back to catch the 10:00pm flight.<br /><br />Rati had planned to come to the airport to meet me but she could not manage it, she had a factory visit. Anyway we checked into the lounge and at 10:45 boarded our flight.<br /><br />By midnight we were in Bangalore and by 12:30 I had reached my room after dropping Mukul on the way.<br /><br />Thus, comes to end an unforgettable trip. A trip that had a journey to my own heart, some divinity and lots of activity.Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-12676082558057940932008-09-17T15:54:00.000+05:302010-07-24T14:20:26.963+05:30The trip (Phase-II Pune-Shirdi)First part of this travelogue can be read at "<a href="http://anjansantra.blogspot.com/2008/09/trip-phase-i-bangalore-belgaum.html">trip-phase-i-bangalore-belgaum</a>"<br /><br />Early morning we reached Pune from Belgaum. I and Mukul realized, much to our consternation, there is no limit to being hospitable. Mani's Sister and brother came to pick us up from the bus stop. They themselves had reached Pune at around 3 am after teh marriage ceremony and now at 6 they are there to pick us up.<br /><br />Uncle and Aunty (Mani's former landlords) boarded the Car and we took a rickshaw. We took the rickshaw directly to Mani's old family house. Uncle-Aunty would join us later. They had gone to Mani's other house. Here we freshened up and went downstairs. Hrishkesh (<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Pahadiram) </span>was waiting along with his cousin 'Anirudha'. Hrishikesh had skipped Mani's reception party at Belgaum and had started from Belgaum early evening. So he had reached Pune almost 12 hours before us.<br /><br />Anirudha is an architect by profession and for the rest of the day he and Hrishikesh were our guides and companions exploring Pune. It was there presence that made this leg of our trip more enjoyable. Just imagine I and Mukul roaming around Pune, the thought itself makes the plan so boring.<br /><br />We boarded their Bikes and started for Sinhagadh. Ages ago in class 6 or 7 I had read about this fort of Shivaji. The name of the fort is in honour of <a title="Tanaji Malusare" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tanaji_Malusare">Tanaji Malusare</a> whose bravery and heroics fetched him the epithet of a Lion. He laid down his life in the battle famously known as the battle of Sinhagadh. I think I will try to blog that story some day. Our textbook noted that Shivaji on hearing the recapture of the fort at the cost of Tanaji's life uttered "Gadh aaya par Sinha gaya". In Marathi it is ""<i>Gad ala pan Sinha gela".<br /><br /></i>On way to the fort we passed Khadakwasla. It's NDA area. Midway Hrishi's bike played tantrums. So Hrishi did a double ferry. First he dropped Mukul and me to the fort's doorstep and then went back to get Anirudha standing near the broken bike 8 kilometers down hill.<br /><br />Once we reached the summit, we had refreshing butter-milk<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">. </span>The fort is in a very dilapidated condition; another pointer to our scant regard for history. Though Hrishi said the ASI is trying to beautify the place.<br /><br />The view of Pune city was beautiful from atop the fort. Torana fort -another of Shivaji's forts- is also visible from Sinhagad. Though it being a peak summer season the place had a dreary dry look.<br /><br />The highpoint of a visit to Sinhagad is the famous sweet water tank-the water so chilled, it can give you a shiver anytime of the year. In addition the curd vendors with their fresh and yummy yogurt stock , buttermilk, onion pakoda (Kaanda bhaaji) and Jzoonka-baakri (I am yet to come to term with the actual pronunciation). We tried all these things and can vouch for their taste and safety. Well I can do that because I have an ultra sensitive stomach and if I do not fall ill, the food is definitely good.<br /><br />At peak sun we sat under a tree to finish the lunch and after recharging our internal batteries started for the journey downhill. On the way we had <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">neera </span>(date tree sap). Around 3pm we reached Hrishi's house and passed the high noon there. Incidentally his <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">mamaji</span> had sent Alphonso mangoes that day only. We tested those too. By five pm we reached our lodging place, picked our luggages to start onwards journey to Shirdi.<br /><br />Lest I forget, we had in the meanwhile received numerous calls from Mani's sister urging us to visit their house. But we could not make it there. And anyway Mani had not reached Pune yet, so we decided, better next time.<br /><br /><br />At the bus stand we purchased tickets to Shirdi. The bus was at 6:45pm. We had an hour or so to explore the bus stand. We fooled around the place, purchased some snacks and came back to the bus depot. After sometime a dilapidated bus came to the Shirdi platform. We took our seats and tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible.<br /><br /><a href="http://anjansantra.blogspot.com/2008/11/trip-finale-back-to-bangalore.html">Shirdi phase of the trip in here</a>.Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-88576011980527255042008-09-17T15:48:00.000+05:302008-09-22T11:15:56.621+05:30The trip (Phase-I Bangalore-Belgaum)<div style="text-align: justify;"><span>थोडी </span>देर तो हो गयी। पर देर आए दुरुस्त आए।<br /><br />I am bit late. A little bit only. Agreed that it is not by minutes...not even by hours or even days...only three or four months. But I really believe that it's better late than never (sorry for the clich<span class="me">é</span>). But i am sure you will forgive me. After all I am solely relying on your benevolence to overlook this fault of mine.<br /><br />So let me cut all this crap and directly jump to the real story or rather the travelogue.<br /><br />During Feb-March Manish, better known as <span style="font-style: italic;">Mani</span>, had informally extended an invitation to me and the <span style="font-style: italic;">lukhha </span>gang to attend his marriage ceremony. A kind soul that he is, he had chalked out a tentative itinerary too, what with all the paraphernalia associated with a trip...what to see, what to do and the biggest of all, the mode of travel during the entire trip.<br /><br />The moment I saw the invitation I knew I was going. And I found in Mukul and Sourabh the guys who shared my thoughts. Since May day holiday was around that period we wanted to make proper use of the holiday to cover Pune, Nashik, Shirdi as well during the extended weekend. The preparations began is right earnest. First and foremost, how and where? Well I do not consider myself a meticulous planner but try we must. After all a good trip depends on good planning. The execution rests on Gods will. And I did try to have a good plan ready.<br /><br />The first and compulsory start point was Belgaum. After all we were going to attend Mani's marriage. But with due apologies to dear Mani, by the end of the trip the catalyst (the marriage ceremony) became the shortest event in the travelogue. An ideal catalyst...what say?<br /><br />Before buying the tickets we decided on a tentative schedule. Mukul had already purchased the ticket along with Boss. So I and Sourabh also decided to buy our own ASAP. I left it to Sourabh to make the purchase And what a 'purchase' that was. Well, on hind site I should be thankful that he did not buy a AC First Class ticket. It was decided that except for the return ticket all else will be purchased <span style="font-style: italic;">in-situ </span>i.e at the time of journey.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicW3cp2crItNZYxjIRwHp_WQ8dPhY1vr4jtglp_khxJ4jcVAiz0EnrjhuZVCd-7wTkbDElx2-8kOBd_4It2ESzyR2IO6MnYOTVViUq1nRghkuKTt2g8XMzaKKCg6FryI4clhKGb6d9nTA/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicW3cp2crItNZYxjIRwHp_WQ8dPhY1vr4jtglp_khxJ4jcVAiz0EnrjhuZVCd-7wTkbDElx2-8kOBd_4It2ESzyR2IO6MnYOTVViUq1nRghkuKTt2g8XMzaKKCg6FryI4clhKGb6d9nTA/s320/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237333756211141794" border="0" /></a><br />Now we started planning for the trip. Sourabh wanted to minimize the travel, specially bus journeys. We also wanted to optimally utilize our time. Keeping all this in mind we arrived at the itinerary as captured in the pic.<br /><br />Although the itinerary looks hectic but we had tried to keep the journeys only during the night. We wanted the most comfortable journey for us in general and Sourabh in particular.<br /><table style="width: 401px; height: 330px;" align="center" border="1" cellpadding="10%"><tbody><tr></tr><tr><br /><td> Day</td><td> Start Time(hrs)</td><td> Src </td><td> Dest </td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td> 30-04-2008</td><td> 2100</td><td> Belgaum</td> <td> Pune </td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td>01-05-2008</td><td>-</td><td>Pune Halt</td><td><br /></td></tr><tr><br /><td>01-05-2008</td><td>2000</td><td>Pune</td><td> Shirdi </td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td>02-05-2008</td><td> 1400</td><td>Shirdi</td><td>Nasik </td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td> 02-05-2008</td><td>-<br /></td><td> Nasik halt<br /></td><td>-<br /></td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td>03-05-2008</td><td> 0700<br /></td><td>-<br /></td><td> -<br /></td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td> 03-05-2008</td><td> 1100<br /></td><td>Nasik<br /></td><td>Mumbai </td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td>03-05-2008</td><td> 2000<br /></td><td>Mumbai<br /></td><td>Bangalore<br /></td><br /></tr><tr><td><br /></td><td><br /></td><td><br /></td><td><br /></td><br /></tr></tbody></table>Amidst lots of <span style="font-style: italic;">hungama</span> finally the day of journey arrived. I reached office all excited. After all this is going to be my first ever outing with friends. But I had no idea what awaited me in the office.<br /><br />Sourabh called me and with a grim face gave me the grimmer news that he will not be able to accompany us for the trip. Suddenly I went blank, all the planing, the ruckus, the excitement coming to naught, and for no fault of mine. Let me explain to you the reason behind my distress. As you may be aware IRCTC has (actually had) a rule regarding e-tickets. The primary ticket holder (whose ID is given during the reservation), if he cancels his ticket, the whole ticket stands canceled. And in this case Sourabh was the primary ticket holder.<br /><br />I was aghast. Is it a joke or God is playing a game? But if it is a game then I am equally game for it. No point being angry; solution was needed and fast. But thankfully I was not the only one going through this predicament. Another group was in a similar dilemma (and I added to it...if not part of the solution part of the problem atleast etc. etc.). The only option I could see was a bus ticket. If it's gonna be a bus journey then be it. Any way <span style="font-style: italic;">Hrishi </span>(aka <span style="font-style: italic;">Pahadiram) </span>was going by bus only.<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>But before reaching any decision I had to make a call. Rajani was up to it. She called Railway enquiry just to make sure... and, maybe seeing my determination, IR in the meanwhile had changed their rule. What a relief, a relief equaled only by the...well forget it. I immediately changed the ticket and got a new e-ticket.<br /><br />How much work was accomplished that day...well do I need to tell that?<br /><br />In the evening I started early from office, reached room, and started for the station. Black clouds were gathering in the horizon, the sky was gettign darker by the minute. And by the time I reached the bus stand it started drizzling. Kiran Lokhande (aka Loku) was waiting for me there. We took an auto-rick and started for the station. Negotiating the rain and a break down of the rickshaw finally we reached the station. But other group was conspicuous by its absence. And with 10 minutes for the train to start they arrived all huffing and puffing. We boarded the train and the journey began. After some light refreshment we sat down to gather some breath, and in the process left other passengers breathless, and all angry.<br /><br />Till one am we continued our <span style="font-style: italic;">Antakshari</span>,<span style="font-style: italic;"> dumb charade </span>and what not. Everybody contributed.<br />Finally all exhausted we moved to our respective berths. I went to 3-Tier along with Navdeep (<span style="font-style: italic;">aka Bhola</span>) and Ram . If you remember, I had a booking in 2-tier AC, but I being a thorough gentleman exchanged my berth with a lady in the gang. Now I don't exactly remember who was it.<br /><br />The train reached Belgaum on time. Nothing else worth narrating happened during the journey except for the display of "holier than thou" attitude of TTE, who asked us not to play Go-card. <span style="font-style: italic;">Pahadiram </span>was there along with Mani's would be brother-in-law to receive us. We started for the venue in right earnest. There we had our breakfast.<br /><br />The weather in Belgaum was pleasant, much like Bangalore. The place still holds that rustic feeling that is all lost in Bangalore, more like a bud that is all set to bloom into a flower but is still thinking if it really wants that.<br /><br />The accommodation was in a government guest house. It was almost 9 in the morning when we reached there. The guys moved to one big dorm type room and the mademoiselles moved to adjacent room. We leisurely freshened up and then dressed up. Then another half an hour was spent for photo session. It was time for us to start for the venue. We got up from the self induced torpor to start, no not for the venue--far from it- but to wait for the <span style="font-style: italic;">Mlle</span>s' to come out of their room. After waiting for what seemed eternity they finally came out. Looking at them we realized that we are here to attend a marriage ceremony. I won't spend any time or effort describing it.<br /><br />It was getting hot outside so the eves boarded an auto-rickshaw. We walked. The wedding hall was wonderfully decorated. Mani was all decked up in traditional attire eagerly waiting for his bride to enter the venue and consequently his life.<br /><br />I made sure I did not miss anything going on in the <span style="font-style: italic;">Vivah Mandap</span>. After around an hour or so we moved towards lunch tables. Special attention was bestowed on us...after all "हम बाराती जो ठहरे"।<br />Soumen had his almost one years quota of sweet (jalebi) served on his plate.<br /><br />After a sumptuous meal, we bid adieu to the newly wed couple to move towards the guest house. After spending sometime inside the room, I got hold of <span style="font-style: italic;">Bhola</span> (Navdeep loves to call himself so, though he is any but) and went out to explore the locality. I was walking a desolate, a rubble amidst a clean and neat town. The upheavals, the trepeditions going through my heart and my mind was unexplainable. May be I will never be able to put my deepest thoughts here. And there is no point to it either, it will unnecessarily complicate a matter. Though after so many days it really sounds so utterly ridiculous. Well some day I will write about it. As a matter of fact my last blog "<a href="http://anjansantra.blogspot.com/2008/06/drop-of-honey.html">drop-of-honey</a>" is a cursory glance towards that only.<br /><br />After 2-3 hours of loafing around we came back. I did not try to sleep, because it would have been meaningless.<br /><br />After sometime we started preparing for the evening reception party. We reached there early and stayed for about 2 hours. We bade final good byes to Mani and his family and started for our second phase of the trip. Mukul and I had a bus to Pune at 9:30pm, the remaining members of the gang had return tickets to Bangalore at 9:00pm. BTW, our Pune bus reservation was also arranged for by Mani only.<br /><br />We reached the bus stand on time. We had Uncle and Aunty along with us (They were Mani's former landlords), they were also going to Pune.<br /><br />At 9:45pm we boarded the Volvo bus. I immediately pulled the quilts and with lots of anticipation, questions, excitement and anguish went to sleep.<br /><br />We human beings have a tendency to turn blind eye to things we do not like to see. We overlook things we find difficult to accept and surprisingly we can go to great lengths to avoid being confronted with the truth. But that attitude neither turn the truth to a lie nor does it provide any solace when it tumbles out in the open. With this I will rest my submission for the first and so unforgettable day.<br /><br />Next part continued at "<a href="http://anjansantra.blogspot.com/2008/09/trip-phase-ii-pune-shirdi.html">The trip (Phase-II Pune-Shirdi)</a>"<br /></div>Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-64893681004935436682008-06-26T17:06:00.000+05:302008-06-26T18:51:56.640+05:30A Drop of Honey<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" > M</span>any years ago somewhere in the southern tip of India there lived a hunter. He hunted wild animals or birds for their flesh and skin and would sell them to the village market. At times if he had luck he would find fruits, berries or even honey.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > One morning the hunter started from home early. He was accompanied by </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >bhola</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > his dog, a dagger he always kept with himself, his bow and arrows and a </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >bhinstee</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >. He had to start early to get a good catch. But the whole day he scanned through the whole forest without any luck. He was so desperate, it did not occur to him that it was getting dark. Black clouds were enveloping the sky and in no time it started pouring. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > The hunter, seeing no other alternaive, ran towards a den and somehow managed to save himself from the rain. Hunger and fatigue had the better of him and he fell asleep. The next morning he woke up and tried to scan the den. A buzzing sound drew his attention and he looked up at a distance to see a bee hive, its bosom swelled with the treasure it hid inside. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > The hunter immediately drew his dagger and with the expertise of a seasoned honey gatherer cut the hive and gathered almost all the honey into his leather pouch, the </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >bhinstee</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >. He did not take all of it. He had the kind heart and an intelligent mind to leave some honey for its rightful owners the bees.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > It was going to a good day for him, some money to splurge and some </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >handia </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >to have at night. Some meat for </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >bhola </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >too. He quickly packed his dagger, picked his belongings, shoulderd the </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >bhinstee</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > and started towards the village market. He had to reach the village grocery store-keeper before the honey fermented.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > At the shop the shopkeeper meticulously transferred the honey from the </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >bhinstee</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > into a jar, but somehow a drop spilled into the floor. Few ants were immediately drawn towards it. A bird was watching the whole proceeding from a tree top. It swooped to feast on those hapless ants. The shopkeeper had a pet cat which immediately pounced on the bird. Seeing its eternal enemy, </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >bhola</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > the dog pounced on the cat. Seeing such a brutal end to his cat the shopkeeper, all in rage took out a stick and craked the poor dog's skull into two. The hunter immediately got up, pulled out his dagger and ripped apart the shopkeepers heart. Then it dawned upon him the brutality of his act. So he ran away.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" > But being from neighbouring villages the news spread like wild fire. The villagers clashed with each other and led to a lot of bloodbath. All this for a drop of honey.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" >PS: Nobody knows what happened to the honey. But surely, it was not meant for either the hunter or the shopkeeper.</span>Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-91429163008909159732008-06-16T14:31:00.000+05:302008-06-16T14:44:44.550+05:30Soul curry: The magic of giving<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> I believe everyone in their lifetime comes across a bit of magic that reminds them of the importance of the word ‘give’.</span></span><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" > The incident, which reminded me of the well known saying “it's more blessed to give than to receive” happened a few weeks before my sister's wedding. With a heavy heart, I left the wedding cheer at home for another town to attend some important lectures. My parents had the room ready and waiting for me and as I entered, I walked into what seemed like a Christmas floral shop. Red poinsettias and other bouquets crowded the windowsill, along with a stack of cards that waited to be opened. I felt overwhelmed by the love and attention.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" > Just then, a voice broke into my reverie. “Hey, I'll be sharing the room with you,” said the 20-something girl who had stepped into the room. She had short, curly grey hair and brown eyes. She stared at the flowers with child-like wonder. She introduced herself as Dollie and we chatted on till it was time for dinner. Not once did she mention her family and neither did I ask. Being in her company, life suddenly seemed easier and she also continued to exclaim excitedly at the cards and flowers I continued to receive.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" > On our last evening together, Dollie decided to visit the market. As I walked through the room alone, I noticed for the first time the stark contrast between our sides of the room. There was Dollie's bed that stood neat and sparse except for a red candlebra with holy sprigs, which she had brought along. In fact, I realised I had never seen her getting any calls either during her stay. In contrast, my bed was filled with gifts and I was flooded with calls from friends and family.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" > I decided to give her something of mine as a parting gift. I looked around at the things I had and wondered if I could part with any of it. Of course, I couldn't give mom and dad's Yule log with candles, I thought.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" > What about the new jacket? But, then, my sister badly wanted me to wear it when I reached home. The justifications kept coming even as I climbed onto my bed, placating my guilt by promising myself to call the nearby gift shop to order some flowers for Dollie the next day.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-size:10;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I awoke the next morning with thoughts of returning home, with some of the guilt resurfacing as I remembered that the gift shop wouldn't open for another two days. Moreover, Dollie's train was scheduled before mine.<br /><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" > “I've really enjoyed getting to know you, Dollie,” I finally told her. My words were sincere but I felt guilty for not having followed up on my intentions.<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" > To my surprise, she picked up her only possession, the red candled centre-piece, and gently laid it in my hands. “I'll miss you,” she said, giving me a big hug. “Thank you,” is all I could manage to whisper. As she left I dropped my moist eyes to the small memento in my hand...“Dollie's only gift”, I thought, “and she gave it to me.”<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-size:100%;" > As I heard the doors closing behind Dollie, I knew in my heart that she possessed much more than I did.<br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span class="headingnextag"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);">Courtesy: Times of India, 16 Jun 2008, 0024 hrs IST, TNN</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);">To read the original visit ...</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 153, 51);">http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Lifestyle/Spirituality/Soul_curry_The_magic_of_giving/articleshow/3130649.cms</span></span><br /></span></span>Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-36020590389117008932008-06-13T10:01:00.001+05:302008-06-13T14:27:39.666+05:30Anne Frank<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8fK5s33EWXEZQt6yOFM5AdNSlgDX8w-Bl2XKKa2x-lfX4tptiFayRUyVGPzhC6ocL2DRelNhVUK8F1_MYOnWGd3qD3GK6egtUFxP3a1DE27sKd_s8UIiPznrQQzsdNo18aFeq4WqtG14/s1600-h/anne.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8fK5s33EWXEZQt6yOFM5AdNSlgDX8w-Bl2XKKa2x-lfX4tptiFayRUyVGPzhC6ocL2DRelNhVUK8F1_MYOnWGd3qD3GK6egtUFxP3a1DE27sKd_s8UIiPznrQQzsdNo18aFeq4WqtG14/s320/anne.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5211287399851163298" border="0" /></a><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>"Whoever is happy will make others happy too. He who has courage and faith will never perish in misery!" </b></span> </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>"I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are still truly good at heart"</b></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;">(excerpts from <i>The Diary of a Young Girl</i>)</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">Today is Anne Frank"s birthday ( Jun 12, 1929). Some of you may be wondering who she is. Apart from everything said about her by others and by her too, she represents the power of a liberated mind, a sacred thought and the ultimate perseverance of human heart on the face of mortal danger.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">The two most defining personalities of the WW-II were in absolute contrast toeach other. At the one end was Anne a common yet so uncommon teenager and at the other end was Hitler. Both penned autobiographical memoirs. Both of them talked about their lives and beliefs. But unexpectedly it was Anne's that prevailed. With a diary written while hidden in a secret attic with her family, she braved the Nazis and lent a voice to the fight for human dignity. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">This historical document holds such immense value in today's world that any doubt cast upon the authenticity of these memoirs are considered nothing less than profanity by many. As Roger Rosenblatt, noted journalist says, "there are some stories the world so needs to believe that it would be profane to impair their influence”.<br /><br />It's really a wonder how a book, basically a diary, written by a person between the age of thirteen to fifteen evokes so much interest that it remains no longer a mere book. Anne through the pages of her diary has transcended all barriers of cast, creed, race or religion. She is no longer a mere Jew or a victim of holocaust, she is much more than that, an eternal sense of perseverance, and eternal hope on the face of abject despondence. Every word of hers is full of hope and a jest for life. One year before her death from typhus in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp at the mere age of sixteen (actually less than sixteen), she wrote, "I want to be useful or give pleasure to people around me who yet don"t really know me. I want to go on living even after my death!". Useful she did become, and immortal too through the pages of her diary. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">If you have ever been a teenager (which you have surely been), then you will certainly be able to connect to all the trepidations and self-doubts that you see in the pages of this epic. And do not forget all these under the constant fear of being found out by the Nazis. As someone correctly said this book is one of the most conclusive and moving evidence of the shocking pogrom perpetrated on any race in the name of creating a superior race.<br /><br />On August 4, 1944, the Gestapo discovered the hiding place of the Frank family after being tipped off by an anonymous Dutch caller. The Gestapo found them hidden behind a door protected by a book case. They arrested Anne the human being. But they could never fathom that Anne had already escaped through her diary.</p> <div align="justify"> </div>Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-27578085967491316272008-05-28T17:41:00.000+05:302008-09-17T15:48:20.758+05:30A trip (Phase-I Bangalore to Belgaum)<div style="text-align: justify;"><span>थोडी </span>देर तो हो गयी। पर देर आए दुरुस्त आए।<br /><br />I am bit late. A little bit only. Agreed that it is not by minutes...not even by hours or even days...only three or four months. But I really believe that it's better late than never (sorry for the clich<span class="me">é</span>). But i am sure you will forgive me. After all I am solely relying on your benevolence to overlook this fault of mine.<br /><br />So let me cut all this crap and directly jump to the real story or rather the travelogue.<br /><br />During Feb-March Manish, better known as <span style="font-style: italic;">Mani</span>, had informally extended an invitation to me and the <span style="font-style: italic;">lukhha </span>gang to attend his marriage ceremony. A kind soul that he is, he had chalked out a tentative itinerary too, what with all the paraphernalia associated with a trip...what to see, what to do and the biggest of all, the mode of travel during the entire trip.<br /><br />The moment I saw the invitation I knew I was going. And I found in Mukul and Sourabh the guys who shared my thoughts. Since May day holiday was around that period we wanted to make proper use of the holiday to cover Pune, Nashik, Shirdi as well during the extended weekend. The preparations began is right earnest. First and foremost, how and where? Well I do not consider myself a meticulous planner but try we must. After all a good trip depends on good planning. The execution rests on Gods will. And I did try to have a good plan ready.<br /><br />The first and compulsory start point was Belgaum. After all we were going to attend Mani's marriage. But with due apologies to dear Mani, by the end of the trip the catalyst (the marriage ceremony) became the shortest event in the travelogue. An ideal catalyst...what say?<br /><br />Before buying the tickets we decided on a tentative schedule. Mukul had already purchased the ticket along with Boss. So I and Sourabh also decided to buy our own ASAP. I left it to Sourabh to make the purchase And what a 'purchase' that was. Well, on hind site I should be thankful that he did not buy a AC First Class ticket. It was decided that except for the return ticket all else will be purchased <span style="font-style: italic;">in-situ </span>i.e at the time of journey.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicW3cp2crItNZYxjIRwHp_WQ8dPhY1vr4jtglp_khxJ4jcVAiz0EnrjhuZVCd-7wTkbDElx2-8kOBd_4It2ESzyR2IO6MnYOTVViUq1nRghkuKTt2g8XMzaKKCg6FryI4clhKGb6d9nTA/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicW3cp2crItNZYxjIRwHp_WQ8dPhY1vr4jtglp_khxJ4jcVAiz0EnrjhuZVCd-7wTkbDElx2-8kOBd_4It2ESzyR2IO6MnYOTVViUq1nRghkuKTt2g8XMzaKKCg6FryI4clhKGb6d9nTA/s320/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237333756211141794" border="0" /></a><br />Now we started planning for the trip. Sourabh wanted to minimize the travel, specially bus journeys. We also wanted to optimally utilize our time. Keeping all this in mind we arrived at the itinerary as captured the pic.<br /><br />Although the itinerary looks hectic but we had tried to keep the journeys only during the night. We wanted the most comfortable journey for us in general and Sourabh in particular.<br /><br /><table style="width: 401px; height: 330px;" align="center" border="1" cellpadding="10%"><tbody><br /><tr></tr><tr><br /><td> Day</td><td> Start Time(hrs)</td><td> Src </td><td> Dest </td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td> 30-04-2008</td><td> 2100</td><td> Belgaum</td> <td> Pune </td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td>01-05-2008</td><td>-</td><td>Pune Halt</td><td><br /></td></tr><tr><br /><td>01-05-2008</td><td>2000</td><td>Pune</td><td> Shirdi </td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td>02-05-2008</td><td> 1400</td><td>Shirdi</td><td>Nasik </td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td> 02-05-2008</td><td>-<br /></td><td> Nasik halt<br /></td><td>-<br /></td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td>03-05-2008</td><td> 0700<br /></td><td>-<br /></td><td> -<br /></td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td> 03-05-2008</td><td> 1100<br /></td><td>Nasik<br /></td><td>Mumbai </td><br /></tr><tr><br /><td>03-05-2008</td><td> 2000<br /></td><td>Mumbai<br /></td><td>Bangalore<br /></td><br /></tr><tr><td><br /></td><td><br /></td><td><br /></td><td><br /></td><br /></tr></tbody></table><br />Amidst lots of <span style="font-style: italic;">hungama</span> finally the day of journey arrived. I reached office all excited. After all this is going to be my first ever outing with friends. But I had no idea what awaited me in the office.<br /><br />Sourabh called me and with a grim face gave me the grimmer news that he will not be able to accompany us for the trip. Suddenly I went blank, all the planing, the ruckus, the excitement coming to naught, and for no fault of mine. Let me explain to you the reason behind my distress. As you may be aware IRCTC has (actually had) a rule regarding e-tickets. The primary ticket holder (whose ID is given during the reservation), if he cancels his ticket, the whole ticket stands canceled. And in this case Sourabh was the primary ticket holder.<br /><br />I was aghast. Is it a joke or God is playing a game? But if it is a game then I am equally game for it. No point being angry; solution was needed and fast. But thankfully I was not the only one going through this predicament. Another group was in a similar dilemma (and I added to it...if not part of the solution part of the problem atleast etc. etc.). The only option I could see was a bus ticket. If it's gonna be a bus journey then be it. Any way <span style="font-style: italic;">Hrishi </span>(aka <span style="font-style: italic;">Pahadiram) </span>was going by bus only.<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>But before reaching any decision I had to make a call. Rajani was up to it. She called Railway enquiry just to make sure... and, maybe seeing my determination, IR in the meanwhile had changed their rule. What a relief, a relief equaled only by the...well forget it. I immediately changed the ticket and got a new e-ticket.<br /><br />How much work was accomplished that day...well do I need to tell that?<br /><br />In the evening I started early from office, reached room, and started for the station. Black clouds were gathering in the horizon, the sky was gettign darker by the minute. And by the time I reached the bus stand it started drizzling. Kiran Lokhande (aka Loku) was waiting for me there. We took an auto-rick and started for the station. Negotiating the rain and a break down of the rickshaw finally we reached the station. But other group was conspicuous by its absence. And with 10 minutes for the train to start they arrived all huffing and puffing. We boarded the train and the journey began. After some light refreshment we sat down to gather some breath, and in the process left other passengers breathless, and all angry.<br /><br />Till one am we continued our <span style="font-style: italic;">Antakshari</span>,<span style="font-style: italic;"> dumb charade </span>and what not. Everybody contributed.<br />Finally all exhausted we moved to our respective berths. I went to 3-Tier along with Navdeep (<span style="font-style: italic;">aka Bhola</span>) and Ram . If you remember, I had a booking in 2-tier AC, but I being a thorough gentleman exchanged my berth with Rajani.<br /><br />The train reached Belgaum on time. Nothing else worth narrating happened during the journey except for the display of "holier than thou" attitude of TTE, who asked us not to play Go-card. <span style="font-style: italic;">Pahadiram </span>was there along with Mani's would be brother-in-law to receive us. We started for the venue in right earnest. There we had our breakfast.<br /><br />The weather in Belgaum was pleasant, much like Bangalore. The place still holds that rustic feeling that is all lost in Bangalore, more like a bud that is all set to bloom into a flower but is still thinking if it really wants that.<br /><br />The accommodation was in a government guest house. It was almost 9 in the morning when we reached there. The guys moved to one big dorm type room and the mademoiselles moved to adjacent room. We leisurely freshened up and then dressed up. Then another half an hour was spent for photo session. It was time for us to start for the venue. We got up from the self induced torpor to start, no not for the venue--far from it- but to wait for the <span style="font-style: italic;">Mlle</span>s' to come out of their room. After waiting for what seemed eternity they finally came out. Looking at them we realized that we are here to attend a marriage ceremony. I won't spend any time or effort describing it.<br /><br />It was getting hot outside so the eves boarded an auto-rickshaw. We walked. The wedding hall was wonderfully decorated. Mani was all decked up in traditional attire eagerly waiting for his bride to enter the venue and consequently his life.<br /><br />I made sure I did not miss anything going on in the <span style="font-style: italic;">Vivah Mandap</span>. After around an hour or so we moved towards lunch tables. Special attention was bestowed on us...after all "हम बाराती जो ठहरे"।<br /><br />Soumen had his almost one years quota of sweet (jalebi) served on his plate.<br />After a sumptuous meal, we bid adieu to the newly wed couple to move towards the guest house. After spending sometime inside the room, I got hold of <span style="font-style: italic;">Bhola</span> and went out to explore the locality. I was walking a desolate, a rubble amidst a clean and neat town. The upheavals, the trepeditions going through my heart and my mind was unexplainable.<br /><br />After 2-3 hours of loafing around we came back. I did not try to sleep, because it would have been meaningless.<br /><br />After sometime we started preparing for the evening reception party. We reached there early and stayed for about 2 hours. We bade final good byes to Mani and his family and started for our second phase of the trip. Mukul and I had a bus to Pune at 9:30pm, the remaining members of the gang had return tickets to Bangalore at 9:00pm. BTW, our Pune bus reservation was also arranged for by Mani only.<br /><br />We reached the bus stand on time. We had Uncle and Aunty along with us (They were Mani's former landlords), they were also going to Pune.<br /><br />At 9:45pm we boarded the Volvo bus. I immediately pulled the quilts and with lots of anticipation, questions, excitement and anguish went to sleep.<br /><br />We human beings have a common nature to turn a blind eye to things that we do not like to see. We overlook things that we find difficult to accept and surprisingly we can go to great lengths to avoid being confronted with the truth. With this I will rest my submission for the first and so unforgettable day.<br /></div>Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-38317241115664125082007-10-11T17:56:00.000+05:302007-10-11T18:02:40.251+05:30The flip side of the IT-boom... RoadToHell<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">The flip side of IT-boom in Bangalore</span><br /><br />1. Roads inundated with chartered vehicles or the so called office cabs. Always in a hurry for no apparent reasons, with absolutely no road sense, these cabs are a BIG headache for fellow road users.<br /><ul><li>Solution:</li></ul><ol><li> Recruitment procedure should be very strict.</li><li> Deterrents for errant drivers in the form of temporary or permanent cancellation of license.</li><li> Deterrents for the agencies providing the cabs in the form of black listing.</li><li> Well maintained vehicles.</li></ol><br />2. Untamed exuberance of youth. When software engineers (like us) are out of colleges and away from the eyes of parents, with load of money; bike becomes the ultimate symbol of virility. And faster the better.<br /><ul><li>Solution:</li></ul><ol><li> Steep fines. When salary is Rs. 50,000 per month, a fine of Rs. 100 sounds ridiculous.</li><li> Even a fine of Rs. 100 is not imposed if the rider agrees to give Rs. 20 or 50.</li><li> Strong enforcement of road laws.</li></ol><br />3. Roadway buses. They stop anywhere and everywhere.<br /><ul><li>Solution:</li></ul><ol><li> Drivers to be fined if bus is stopped at non designated stops.</li><li> Let the bus driver concentrate on driving. Multitasking like vending tickets, keeping track of coins, along with an eye on the road is an explosive combination.</li></ol><br />4. Jay walkers who think a highway is just an extension of the home corridor.<br /><ul><li>Solution:</li></ul><ol><li> Dissemination of information. Pedestrians should be made aware of the hazards of jay walking.</li><li> If caught let them attend a one hour coaching. For nonvolunteers this can be a real headache.</li></ol><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">But last and certainly the least too... who cares</span>Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3877035885889831471.post-40236052498836820712007-07-16T17:51:00.000+05:302008-06-13T14:28:16.900+05:30Never let me go<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHGh7pdc1hmw7eL_q3R8imv5iZYLOkTS3gimCmOElOz8ddf11yfNMp3EOemoegPuMck3d-7OjCYIIV5ozT88BvbaX_Zt2_3NH2wgPsNtIk-2JyJPilLIfd2_8O2hoA4M5HkaSOZs3FZw/s1600-h/neverletmego_1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHGh7pdc1hmw7eL_q3R8imv5iZYLOkTS3gimCmOElOz8ddf11yfNMp3EOemoegPuMck3d-7OjCYIIV5ozT88BvbaX_Zt2_3NH2wgPsNtIk-2JyJPilLIfd2_8O2hoA4M5HkaSOZs3FZw/s320/neverletmego_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088036963339182258" border="0" /></a><br />It was always there in the library, only I never bothered to borrow it. Then last week while browsing through the library catalogue I saw the book again and picked it up, and no I was not disappointed.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Never let me go</span> by <span style="font-style: italic;">Kazuo Ishiguro.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>I have read <span style="font-weight: bold;">God of small thing </span>by <span style="font-style: italic;">Arundhati Roy</span>, and ever since felt these booker prizes are like (in Indian context) Presidents award for movies. The more incomprehensible a movie is the better chance it stands to win the award. In my limited "literature appreciation faculty" found that book boring, and ever since tried to keep a safe distance from these award winning novels. But how wrong I was.<br /><br />The story is told in a flashback mode. Right from the onset it seems like any school days reminiscing story, but some where there was a disconnect, craftily created by the writer, but not at all decipherable until towards the end.<br /><br />The story revolves around three primary characters Kathy, Ruth and Tommy, with Kathy being the protagonist, who leads us through the ups and downs of an unnatural or <span style="font-style: italic;">para-natural</span> gripping life and times of growing school kids. The growing up of small children into adults, a life beyond school, a world where dreams are bought and sold, love, hate, self-doubts, the trepidations and a rainbow of human emotions have all been craftily worded.<br /><br />The people Kathy, Ruth and Tommy are clones who along with several others have been reared to serve the human society in the form of <span style="font-style: italic;">donors </span>as Ishiguro calls them. The word death has been renamed <span style="font-style: italic;">complete </span>and very aptly too.<br /><br />The story is touching because it so wonderfully captures the double-standards in the contemporary society. Simply replace the clones with the have-nots and what we will find is a true reflection of our times.<br /><br />On second thoughts may be <span style="font-style: italic;">Never let me go</span> didn't win the booker because it was too easy even for me to understand, nay, feel.Anjanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10523840437812642584noreply@blogger.com0