<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671</id><updated>2011-07-09T02:03:36.242+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Soul Curry</title><subtitle type='html'>I, me, myself .... and all that revolves around my world</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>76</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-137589458341347657</id><published>2010-02-22T17:06:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-22T17:08:19.684+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Week-ling</title><content type='html'>Monday is Blue&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday, barely there&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday is Gray&lt;br /&gt;Thursday is hopeful&lt;br /&gt;Friday, Neon&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, Disco Ball&lt;br /&gt;Sunday is Bed, Brunch, Book, Bed&lt;br /&gt;Crap! Monday is here again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-137589458341347657?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/137589458341347657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=137589458341347657&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/137589458341347657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/137589458341347657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2010/02/week-ling.html' title='Week-ling'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-7920508282585906939</id><published>2008-02-21T16:47:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-02-28T11:13:16.273+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Another Tissue Please...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_sbZOp_Eqkp4/R8ZJFhuMd8I/AAAAAAAABdI/OuEMF-HOyts/s1600-h/07.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171901581381892034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_sbZOp_Eqkp4/R8ZJFhuMd8I/AAAAAAAABdI/OuEMF-HOyts/s320/07.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; What is with common cold? Why do I catch it so soon? A person in proximity so much so sneezes, in few hours I have a running nose. Why is to so contagious? When I'm with someone who has real talent at making money, why cant some of that rub off on me? Why isn't money making skill as contagious? Some one sits in a meeting room, talks something that nobody can actually decipher, he just points his finger in all directions and says something that sounds really intelligent and voila! people are listening to him and think he is really smart. The minute I open my mouth people are half deaf. Why cant I catch that talent when I'm in the same room just like I catch this God damned cold? In a concert my favorite band threw autographed T-shirts and cricket balls, why couldn't I catch one of them? I'm in a conversation with a bunch of new people and this really cute guy says something that was supposedly funny. Why didn't I catch it? Everybody else laughed except for me! If only he had sneezed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-7920508282585906939?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/7920508282585906939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=7920508282585906939&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/7920508282585906939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/7920508282585906939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2008/02/another-tissue-please.html' title='Another Tissue Please...'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_sbZOp_Eqkp4/R8ZJFhuMd8I/AAAAAAAABdI/OuEMF-HOyts/s72-c/07.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-4401659347410861537</id><published>2007-12-05T10:06:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-12-05T10:15:13.087+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The ideology of 'do as your parents say' has made the Indian youth respectful, smarter and commit fewer mistakes than most of their counterparts in other countries, but this has taken away freedom of thinking on their own. Maybe this lead Indians to become submissive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In an ideal world the caste system would have worked if it was just based on the kind of work people do and everybody respects all sections of people. It still would work if discrimination was part of life. But nothing inhuman can survive for long. The line of division hasnt blurred but many have crossed over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women are always considered as the weaker sex. A man in a woman's life always has an upper hand. The woman should always adjust, bear with any trauma she is facing only because as a wife its her duty. The society may never except a women who walked out of a failed marriage but the ideology has started to fail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;India would have double the current population if most of the people wouldnt follow 'mate after marriage' ideology. But at the same time the ideology of every person must marry and bear a child with his/her partner has led India to be the second most populated country in the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-4401659347410861537?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/4401659347410861537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=4401659347410861537&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/4401659347410861537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/4401659347410861537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2007/12/ideology-of-do-as-your-parents-say-has.html' title=''/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-5298043787724013995</id><published>2007-10-18T12:04:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-10-18T12:32:58.958+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I Got Tagged! : 8 Random Things</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://kanishkaagiwal.blogspot.com/"&gt;Kannu&lt;/a&gt; tagged me, I wish I read his blog earlier. Other than the world famous fact that you will never find me having a good hair day, here are some random stuff about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Though I'm a self confessed chocoholic and everybody knows it, I'm secretively more addicted to coffee. If I dont have atleast a dose of strong filter coffee a day, I'll go insane. People say I make amazing hot cuppa. I also love food. Soon after my stomach forgives me for eating a roadside chaat, I'm back devouring something spicy and unhygienic.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm a very lazy person. I totally dislike my profession but I dont do anything to switch careers. I just crib all the time. I love the flute but didnt continue my classes. I love to learn how to play the guitar, I have an expensive guitar which was left behind by my friend, there is a music class 10 feet away from home but I havent done anything about it. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;When I was in college I once tried bleaching my face for a friend's wedding. I put some bleach cream on few strands of my hair. I thought that would give me the hot chick streaked hair look. I only got weird looks from others and sound verbal thrashing from my mother, she threatened to disown me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I cant lie without getting caught. I make very funny faces when I'm lying. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I cant be too straight or blunt when I talk to people. This causes great deal of agony when there are money matters.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hold your breath for this. I dont like shopping. It tires me. I dont like the idea of hopping stores and trying on things. My feet are too long. 99% of the footwear stores I visit will have a size less than mine as the largest size available. I have the worst footwear collection compared to all the people I know, including my maid.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have saved a life by talking my friend out of suicide. She was very upset over her breakup. She wouldnt have gone ahead anyway but I like to think that I once did a good deed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm sometimes paranoid that people are around me just to judge me. If some one just looks at me I imagine that person with a writing pad making notes about me. Surprizingly this has never made me change my ways.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;This was fun! I tag &lt;a href="http://rtherego.rediffblogs.com/"&gt;Ranjani&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://poojasblogs.blogspot.com/"&gt;Pooja &lt;/a&gt;&amp;amp; &lt;a href="http://of-blackcoffee-and-energybars.blogspot.com/"&gt;Rachana&lt;/a&gt;. I bet they will be more interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-5298043787724013995?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/5298043787724013995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=5298043787724013995&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/5298043787724013995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/5298043787724013995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-got-tagged-8-random-things.html' title='I Got Tagged! : 8 Random Things'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-371148352201142779</id><published>2007-08-24T16:58:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-09-11T13:46:47.268+05:30</updated><title type='text'>What is India Shining?</title><content type='html'>An entire Dalit family is brutally abused and murdered by upper caste people from the same village. We say, "Bloody British, they made racists comments against Shilpa Shetty, that poor girl!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jobs from the US are outsourced to India, providing opportunities to the youth of Indian middle class society. We say, "These undeserving SC,ST,OBC people, they get reservations in educational institutions".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids from a minority community, playing inside a Hindu temple premises were physically abused &amp; hot &lt;em&gt;dal&lt;/em&gt; was thrown at their mothers by the Hindus. We say, " Wow! We Indians are so proud that NRIs have built beautiful Hindu temples in the US".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-371148352201142779?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/371148352201142779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=371148352201142779&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/371148352201142779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/371148352201142779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2007/08/what-is-india-shining.html' title='What is India Shining?'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-4868894927972391249</id><published>2007-08-20T16:21:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-08-20T16:26:44.440+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Oops!</title><content type='html'>Scene 1: A snap of a woman (older with gray hair) feeding some kind of a sweet to a girl. The girl is showing the snap &amp; I say, "Awww... your granny is so full of love!". She says, "Thats my mother", with a blank expression on her face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scene 2: My colleague is showing me snaps of his kid. One snap has a woman holding the kid. I ask, "Your mother? " . He says "Actually thats my wife, we visited this temple...".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scene 3: Me, "How can somebody agree to marry some person who she has met only once &amp;amp; hardly knows anything about him? I mean, come on! Doesn't she even worry that he can be a pervert or crazy or annoyingly possesive?" The girl I'm talking to had gotten engaged to this guy she met a day before her engagement through a marriage broker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scene 4: Me, "The last time he got drunk my uncle kept him out of the house whole night!", to my cousin's fiance who believed that he is a teetotaller.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so totally nuts I say!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-4868894927972391249?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/4868894927972391249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=4868894927972391249&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/4868894927972391249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/4868894927972391249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2007/08/oops.html' title='Oops!'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-6453368577553006372</id><published>2007-08-01T18:39:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-08-01T18:45:46.886+05:30</updated><title type='text'>You Should Be Dancing...Yeah!</title><content type='html'>I was listening to this very interesting conversation between two people I know. I was sitting in the same room but had nothing to contribute. Person A was very excited about the recent trip to a city, how that person had partied every night &amp; what "cool" places were visited. Person B was talking about his visit to a very exotic city, cruising around in luxury cars &amp;amp; partied at all the happening places. Both of them were competing to show the other two (in the room there was another hapless chap from the US who too might have thought its silly) what kind of party animals they are. After some hundreds of silly points thrown around both party animals decided that nobody knows how to live unless they party at the right places. They also concluded that nobody knows the true Bengalooru unless they have visited all the best Lounge bars &amp; Dance Floors in the city. I am honoured to be in the worthless lot. The battle continued with none accepting that he/she was any less, I lost interest &amp;amp; wandered along my thoughts. I really wish some people grow up &amp;amp; see that a lifestyle is to entertain ourselves but life is not just that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-6453368577553006372?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/6453368577553006372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=6453368577553006372&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/6453368577553006372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/6453368577553006372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2007/08/you-should-be-dancingyeah.html' title='You Should Be Dancing...Yeah!'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-5827009245598060042</id><published>2007-05-04T18:48:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-04T18:50:32.634+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Why is it so?</title><content type='html'>Why do small cars have dark tinted windows, while big luxury cars have either no tints or very light tints? Are small car drivers ashamed of what they own &amp;amp; luxury car owners are very proud?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-5827009245598060042?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/5827009245598060042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=5827009245598060042&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/5827009245598060042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/5827009245598060042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2007/05/why-is-it-so.html' title='Why is it so?'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-4771689672207339364</id><published>2007-03-27T18:15:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-08-20T16:28:35.105+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Movies That Killed My Apetite</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_sbZOp_Eqkp4/RgkWo2g3uSI/AAAAAAAAAiI/90WWVmpUi6g/s1600-h/13446ft1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5046589748529314082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_sbZOp_Eqkp4/RgkWo2g3uSI/AAAAAAAAAiI/90WWVmpUi6g/s320/13446ft1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had made up my mind not to watch these two movies after seeing their trailers. They are all about flesh and blood bath, kind of movies that men simply love! But I couldn't avoid watching them. First, was Apocalypto. Full credits to Mr. Gibson for the amazing film making. I loved the fact that he made a movie in a jungle, with non main-stream actors, no romantic scenes or pounds of muscle, but still an amazing movie. I was dissapointed that there was no attempt made to show that the Mayans are considered such a great civlization because of their advanced written language, architecture, paintings and sophisticated maths and astronomics. But I guess Gibson didnt want to do the obvious and stick to his style. Every now and then flesh and blood would paint the screen. I closed my eyes for few of the gory scenes. For the whole duration I didnt crave for caramel flavoured popcorn like I always do. Except for few minor errors, like a full moon night immediately following a day that had solar eclipse and the pain of reading subtitles, the movie is superb. A movie I hate &amp; love at the same time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the very next week, I'm in the theater to watch 300. Again all the blood spilling, arm cutting &amp;amp; shouting made my stomach churn. This movie failed to impress me much, maybe coz it followed Apocalypto. Even though the gory scenes are not many, they were more disgusting. The boring first half &amp;amp; poorly edited ( maybe I should blame the distributors for the bad job) was a let down. All I enjoyed was watching the 6X300 washboard abs/triceps (whatever!) . At first I thought the actors have worn some artificial layer, but they have actually worked them out! That night I skipped my dinner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not doing a hattrick by watching Primeval. Please! I really need to watch some totally illogical romantic movie or an animated movie to wash it all off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-4771689672207339364?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/4771689672207339364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=4771689672207339364&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/4771689672207339364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/4771689672207339364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2007/03/movies-that-killed-my-apetite.html' title='Movies That Killed My Apetite'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_sbZOp_Eqkp4/RgkWo2g3uSI/AAAAAAAAAiI/90WWVmpUi6g/s72-c/13446ft1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-3052710281074053990</id><published>2007-03-20T19:24:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-20T19:38:35.700+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Other Side of Auto Suri</title><content type='html'>"Jeevanahalli, Cox Town? Barolla!!" (I wont come to Jeevanahalli, Cox Town).&lt;br /&gt;Thats the only line I remember from the auto suri song. Its all about about how lame but proud the auto rickshaw drivers are in Bangalore.&lt;br /&gt;When you think about auto rickshaws a.k.a autos a.k.a rick, what do you first think of?&lt;br /&gt;Thick smoke emitting from the exhaust?&lt;br /&gt;Refusal to hire?&lt;br /&gt;Weird phrases on the back of the vehicle?&lt;br /&gt;Rash driving?&lt;br /&gt;Excess fare?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Friday's incident, I will remember this story everytime I travel in a rick. Just a reminder not to blow the driver's head off.&lt;br /&gt;On Friday evening, I had to travel to my sister's place from my office. The distance is long, its "Friday", its evening and that area may not fetch much customers on the return journey. So, I get "refused" by around 20 auto drivers (No, I'm not making up that number). These drivers are very choosy. They wont just let anybody to hire their auto. Lot of factors influence his decision.  The distance can be long but traffic should be less, the area where he will drop the customer must have enough customers waiting to hire him, he should not be stopped by too many signals or maybe he doesn't feel like it.&lt;br /&gt;Then like God, one driver instantly agreed. He looked more than 60 so I thought maybe oldies are not so arrogant. In first 5 minutes of the journey,  he had skipped a signal, drove in the wrong way  &amp;  confessed he didnt know the way. I obliged to direct him, didnt want to lose my saviour to a fat traffic cop. Out of cuiosity I asked him,&lt;br /&gt;"After driving for so many years, you dont know the way ?".&lt;br /&gt;"I'm new, Madam".&lt;br /&gt;"Oh ok".&lt;br /&gt;"I used to work in a government office before &amp; I retired. I thought after retirement I will enjoy my time at home. But..".&lt;br /&gt;"What happened?".&lt;br /&gt;"My only son is good for nothing, nobody else in the family is fit to work. This is the only way I can earn some money".&lt;br /&gt;"Isn't it tough to start at this age?".&lt;br /&gt;"It is! My back hurts all the time. My vision is poor and this traffic frustates me, I'm not used to driving at all".&lt;br /&gt;"Thats terrible".&lt;br /&gt;"What is more horrifying is that once I got mugged when I was returning home &amp;amp; I lost all the day's earnings. The auto owner didnt hear my plea &amp; I had to repay him".&lt;br /&gt;Silence.&lt;br /&gt;"Please check your belongings Madam".&lt;br /&gt;I give him little more than the fare, hoping he would keep the change but he prompty returned the change and smiled. He smiled! And then he drove away looking lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another auto drives by which says on the back, " Trust a snake, but not a girl". Grrrr.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-3052710281074053990?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/3052710281074053990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=3052710281074053990&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/3052710281074053990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/3052710281074053990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2007/03/other-side-of-auto-suri.html' title='The Other Side of Auto Suri'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-117284556345143312</id><published>2007-03-02T19:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-02T19:56:03.470+05:30</updated><title type='text'>They Speak</title><content type='html'>Tantadaaa!!! I'm back! And finally here is a compilation of the best quotes from Managers that I have heard so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. "Team, I'm sending you your feedbacks. Please send a reverse feedback on me". Meaning, Please send your feedback on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2."I didnt get the Architecture, can you please draw the cabbage diagram?" Meaning, Please draw the layered diagram to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3."Thank you for your outstanding contributions". I have no better thing to say everytime I have a 1 on 1 discussion with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4."We have given you a hike on par with  the Industry standards". Meaning, The industry can be anything, like cleaning cotton in old beddings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5."When you are aware that certain problems need to be addressed, you need to take actions on them" Meaning, you made a mistake to complaint against the manager, now you take care of the problem, hahaa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6."We have a challenge! We just missed the shuttle". Meaning, I read in some MBA book that I need to replace the word "problem" with "challenge" in order to inspire the team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7."I will vacation tomorrow". And you will work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8." Please schedule your test meaningfully". I'm lost for words here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9." I know you weren't feeling well, but you cant apply for a sick leave between two holidays, it has to be Annual leave only. If you wanted to apply for sick leave you should have sent a mail the day before".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To: Manager&lt;br /&gt;Subject: I will not be coming to office tomorrow. I may fall sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10."Thank you for your active participating and contributing".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-117284556345143312?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/117284556345143312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=117284556345143312&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/117284556345143312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/117284556345143312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2007/03/they-speak.html' title='They Speak'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-116783272700849897</id><published>2007-01-03T19:12:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-01-03T19:30:24.040+05:30</updated><title type='text'>What's The Big Deal?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/655/1600/628275/happy-new-year.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/28/655/320/169834/happy-new-year.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its just another day in another year, what is so special about it? Its the same old world, its the same old boring job, its the same people. After spending more than a grand to celebrate the last day of the year I wake up in the same bed, same maid ringing the door bell and everything around looked the same! Shame! I just couldnt find meaning to all the wishes that were pouring in. Many remembered me only after a whole year to drop in just an SMS. Every new year we are just growing old and there is no big deal! But wait there is something that is different. New year means another chance to start something new or change something that you always wanted to do. I took it this way and started off with my morning walks. What a bliss. And then started with whee bit of social work, of which I only used to deliver great talks but never did anything. So for me, new year is all about starting something new. And all that "partying on new year's eve is a must" no longer has any meaning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-116783272700849897?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/116783272700849897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=116783272700849897&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/116783272700849897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/116783272700849897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2007/01/whats-big-deal.html' title='What&apos;s The Big Deal?'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-116368430548168328</id><published>2006-11-16T19:06:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-11-16T19:08:25.516+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Did You Know?</title><content type='html'>That women are considered to be bad drivers even though most of the accidents involving vehicles are caused by men behind the wheels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only sure way to build your immune system is to have office cafeteria food everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no such thing as a stupid engineer. There can be only a stupid manager.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That the biggest addiction in the present world is not smoking, it is cellphone or mobile as we call it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That the surest way of making a list of jobless people in a company is to take a look at the newsgroup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That 90% of men lie about being a teetotaler and non-smoker before getting married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That I wrote this lame post just to get back into blogging.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-116368430548168328?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/116368430548168328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=116368430548168328&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/116368430548168328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/116368430548168328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2006/11/did-you-know.html' title='Did You Know?'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-115314268402311697</id><published>2006-07-17T18:39:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-07-17T18:58:54.030+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Butterfly Effect</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/1600/1-Butterfly_effect.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 260px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px" height="225" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/320/1-Butterfly_effect.jpg" width="271" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie, The Butterfly Effect, was one of the best movies I have ever watched. Completely swept by Ashton Kutcher's acting. Always watched his romantic and dumb guy roles till this one and it was a pleasant surprise. Now this movie got me on thinking, what is "The Butterfly Effect"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its used in explaining Chaos theory. The butterfly effect was first described by Edward Lorenz, a meteorologist. His quote: "Predictability: Does the Flap of a Butterfly's Wings in Brazil set off a Tornado in Texas?". The phrase refers to the idea that a butterfly's wings might lead to minute changes in the atmosphere that ultimately can cause a tornado! The flapping wing causes a chain of events leading to large-scale phenomena. Otherwise? The trajectory of the atmosphere may have been different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in that movie, a small incident in his adolescence changes his life completely, so he uses his mind power to go back and change that one incidence and it leads to nothing but mess. Now why am I talking about this? One little misapprehension of my effort in my project lead to a situation which could have stamped a black mark in my appraisal! If I hadn't been blunt and made it clear to the management, I would have lost ownership of my work. I was flying high that I bought a car, and I was pulled down to terra firma with a thud. But I carried myself well and by end of the day I got a pat on my back. Somebody remarked that no one can break my spirit.&lt;br /&gt;phew! Its been a hell of a spin!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-115314268402311697?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/115314268402311697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=115314268402311697&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/115314268402311697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/115314268402311697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2006/07/butterfly-effect.html' title='The Butterfly Effect'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-114975047971834549</id><published>2006-06-08T12:36:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-06-08T12:37:59.756+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The world would be a better place...</title><content type='html'>if I just keep my big mouth shut!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-114975047971834549?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/114975047971834549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=114975047971834549&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/114975047971834549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/114975047971834549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2006/06/world-would-be-better-place.html' title='The world would be a better place...'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-114683033766423903</id><published>2006-05-05T17:03:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-05-05T17:28:57.683+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Its been more than a month since I've put up a post! Been busy but not always, never got anything to write, until now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After cooking for weeks everyday at home, I'm really frustated. I started it thinking it would be a good break from routine and fun to pass the time. But the cooking itself has become a routine. Everyday before leaving office I think, "what should I cook tonight?". Since I eat alone, there is nobody to give me their preference. I wake up in the morning and think, "So, what should I pack for lunch?" arrgghhh!! Yesterday while cooking my mom's recipe, I suddenly realized that my mother has been doing this for past three decades! I called her up and said "Amma, thank you for cooking us such delicious food everyday, never tiring. I acknowledge that its very tough to be a homemaker, I love you". She was so happy to hear this, I could hear her voice quiver. It feels nice if somebody reconizes the hard work you do, which was otherwise going un-noticed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-114683033766423903?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/114683033766423903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=114683033766423903&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/114683033766423903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/114683033766423903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2006/05/its-been-more-than-month-since-ive-put.html' title=''/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-114380857510206365</id><published>2006-03-31T18:00:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-03-31T18:16:51.700+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Nothing is Impossible</title><content type='html'>When my friend used to say, "Never say you won't do it, you don't know when you will change your mind or what situations might change the way you think", I always said "Impossible!". Yesterday I realised that he was right. I had stuck to eating food with no meat years ago and called myself "vegetarian by choice", never had I thought that even after feeling so strongly against non-vegetarian food, I would end up trying it. I was sitting next to the same friend at a restuarant, as he devoured a very delicious marinated seer fish, and believe me, I don't often see such a beautiful dish. Even before he offered a bite, I was drooling and the first time he just asked if I want to try, I was ready. But I stopped myself for sometime, still I had to try. The good girl in me begged me to stop, or was it my mental block or my conscience? But I REALLY wanted to try. So I took a teeny weeny bite of it and GOD! it was more yummy than the eggplant dish I was having. It always feels nice to do the forbidden, isn't it? Well, here the forbidden lines were drawn by me, so I could easily cross it. And to my surprise I didnt even puke. I don't know if I will muster enough courage to try again, but now I understand that one cannot think that doing something is impossible or say it can never happen, I wont do it, coz you'll never know what is going to happen in your life and what situations might arise that will change you.&lt;br /&gt;Full credit for the above line goes to my friend who told this :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-114380857510206365?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/114380857510206365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=114380857510206365&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/114380857510206365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/114380857510206365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2006/03/nothing-is-impossible.html' title='Nothing is Impossible'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-114242645544897609</id><published>2006-03-15T18:03:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-03-15T18:16:51.056+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Bangalore-Mysore Non-Stop</title><content type='html'>6 45 PM Sunday evening, Tanjavur express slowly screeches to a halt at the Bangalore station. Scores of people get down and try to make their way through the stairs or the subway. Among this crowd you can find a kind of people who have few common characteristics. They are young, tired and malnourished faces, dark circles, usually carrying a small backpack. They are usually very sharp in recognising species of their own kind. They are glad to meet buddies and school mates and they quickly ask each other the same set of questions. "So, where are you working?" "What platform?". And no, they are not talking about the station platform. This kind goes back to work on Monday morning, dragging their lethargic body and somehow manage to make it through the week. When its Friday and they all jump in glee and rush back to the same station in the evening. They beg their managers, lie, do anything to make it there in time for the 6 15 train. This smart species have come up with a brilliant plan to buy tickets and have a seating, no matter how large the crowd. For this they operate in a gang. This train is usually overflowing. One person stands in the long queue, bearing the stinch, the massive crowd, pulling and pushing and manages to buy tickets for the rest of the gang. Two or more directly enter the platform and alight the train and hold the seat. For about half an hour they endure numerous people coming and asking if the seats are taken and also argue with people who think this arrangement is wrong. Then with few calls and messages, they all are united just before the train leaves. They go home to enjoy one day of the weekend and again on Sunday the story repeats. This kind call themselves as Software Engineers, but not many have any idea of what they actually do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-114242645544897609?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/114242645544897609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=114242645544897609&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/114242645544897609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/114242645544897609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2006/03/bangalore-mysore-non-stop.html' title='Bangalore-Mysore Non-Stop'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-114069177702892521</id><published>2006-02-23T16:14:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-02-23T16:19:37.030+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/1600/DSCF1672.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/320/DSCF1672.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This cute, cuddly, adorable little thing is a year old now :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-114069177702892521?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/114069177702892521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=114069177702892521&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/114069177702892521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/114069177702892521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2006/02/this-cute-cuddly-adorable-little-thing.html' title=''/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-114069091768127842</id><published>2006-02-23T15:59:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-02-23T16:12:29.853+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Why Not Me??</title><content type='html'>When something has really gone bad, when you are miserable, when life sucks, when life is so hopeless that hell can't be worse, you cry out "why me?!". Why haven't you ever thought "why not me?". Why should you think you don't deserve such an ill fate? When all humans deserve happiness then why dont we all deserve tragedy? When there is devastation in a different part of the country, you are relieved to say "Thank God, it didn't happen here", but somebody stuck in that same calamity will think, "why did this happen to me?". Why the tendancy to assume that nothing wrong can happen? Why compare to other person's life and think "why don't I have what she has?". Have you ever thought that she might be asking herself the same question?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why can't the police tow your car among all the others which are in the no-parking zone? Why shouldn't you have a running nose on the day of a very big party? Why shouldn't your debit card stop working in an ATM when its an emergency? Why shouldn't your bike break down when you are late to office? Why shouldn't your friend pick you among all her other friends, to do her a favor which you hate to do? Why should most of the cricket matches be played on a Sunday?!&lt;br /&gt;We all are of the same species, then how can you be special or God sent that nothing wrong can happen to you? And... why am I writing this post?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-114069091768127842?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/114069091768127842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=114069091768127842&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/114069091768127842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/114069091768127842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2006/02/why-not-me.html' title='Why Not Me??'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-113748633241864715</id><published>2006-01-17T13:46:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-01-17T14:01:06.426+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Every Day is a Winding Road</title><content type='html'>If Bangalore traffic never ceases to surprise you then the traffic police are not far behind. Of course, we can never doubt their ability to manage this crazy and ever growing traffic, but maybe they are not thinking clear or the pollution might have got them. If anybody wants to defend them, then think of the Richmond circle flyover. It is believed that it has a record of being probably the only manned flyover in the world. For people who are still thinking "why?", let me tell you that flyovers are not only built to avoid traffic congestion but also to reduce signals and help the police. And now, they go a step ahead and confuse all the commuters going past the centre of the city by reversing all the one ways. First day it felt like the traffic police is trying to play hide and seek. They hide the route to your destination and you go round and round and finally reach your destination or end up where you began. On top of that, the bus commuters now have to stand in the opposite direction of the bus shelter, while the shelter beams with all the glowing ads clearly visible, I guess the advertisers will be the only people who wont be complaining. I've never seen a single road being divided into two opposite one ways. A narrow one way is now open for vehicles in the other direction. If you are not careful, you might slam into a barricade, for which no effort has been taken to put warning signals of their presence. Now my favourite pass time is to find out the shortest path to home, or sit and think where I want to go and how do I reach there. So now I ask, is the Bangalore traffice police trying to test our intelligence or gloat theirs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: If this has any resemblance to any of the "sunday" articles, then its purely co-incidental.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-113748633241864715?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/113748633241864715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=113748633241864715&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/113748633241864715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/113748633241864715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2006/01/every-day-is-winding-road.html' title='Every Day is a Winding Road'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-113689330434574301</id><published>2006-01-10T17:04:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-01-10T17:25:31.873+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/1600/Picture%20050.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 330px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="240" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/320/Picture%20050.jpg" width="330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was taken from a borrowed camera, on top of a hill in Kerala. I was actually focusing my colleagues in front of this pretty tree through which thick rays of sun were penetrating. But just before I clicked, a thin film of cloud passed through us, I immediately lifted the cam and captured this beautiful shot. You can also see my project mate trying to figure out why I changed my focus ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-113689330434574301?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/113689330434574301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=113689330434574301&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/113689330434574301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/113689330434574301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2006/01/this-was-taken-from-borrowed-camera-on.html' title=''/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-113403569728539097</id><published>2005-12-08T15:13:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-12-08T15:36:02.283+05:30</updated><title type='text'>What Not to do in A Software Profession..</title><content type='html'>Your lab manager is hosting a talk (its more like a sermon) about the measure taken for employee satisfaction. You cutely put your hand up and tell him, "What about a lab offsite? Haven't had it for about a year" (For the uninitiated, offsite is a team outing). You lab manager will say "very good point!" and jot something down. You'll think he wrote about the offsite and who will be arranging this, but he will be writing down your name and the project you work for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wear a  good pair of jeans and a t-shirt and you go to office , confident that you look cute, but eyes with raised eyebrows (and a dark circle underneath) will stare back at you. Taken the casual dress code too far? No, you have dressed decently but people will stare anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You change your hair style..its a drastic change. You expect that people will comment but you can't believe that your manager said "trying to look young?". So either condition your colleagues for the shock treatment, like I did, or just dont risk it! someone told me "I wouldn't be surprised if you shave your head for the next time".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You finish your work in time. But if you leave early everyday, then you are considered as a non-hard worker. You were caught up in some other work, you were late and you reached office at noon, so its considered as a half day leave, no matter you slog till late night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its a sin to use messenger, though all your cubicle-mates are online too, all the time. Dont talk in your normal tone over the phone. You HAVE to whisper. People around are intelligent enough to guess by the ring of your desk-phone, if you got an intranet call or a call from outside. You are standing in the balcony, on a call, you mom is generously showering you with words of wisdom and at regular intervals you get scolded too. Obviously you are speechless. But anybody walking by will think you are on call with your boyfriend and lost in his words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will also be judged by the people you have lunch with, or occasionally have a cup of tea. If the person is of opposite sex, it doesnt matter if he/she is a friend from school, all it matters is,  'you had tea/lunch with a guy, alone!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dont even think of wearing a shoe which is not black or white. Red sneakers from Adidas is damn cute, but your colleagues wont think like that. If you are a girl, and you are wearing a belt which peeks from below your shirt, you think you look cool? Wrong! well I'm only talking about the office, remember?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your team mate makes a remark about you, you get slightly mad at him, just for fun you lift your helmet and gesture you will hit him with it. Funny right? NO! Others who watched this, will be making a mental note of reporting this to HR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after reading through all this, you think, I dont care...I'm glad I have company.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-113403569728539097?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/113403569728539097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=113403569728539097&amp;isPopup=true' title='27 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/113403569728539097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/113403569728539097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/12/what-not-to-do-in-software-profession.html' title='What Not to do in A Software Profession..'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>27</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-113153625823956578</id><published>2005-11-09T17:03:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-11-09T17:10:23.976+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Here I Go Again!</title><content type='html'>There was a time when people used to wonder if I'm a little crazy or a little mad or is it just they have a wrong opinion about a sweet and simple young lady. Now, I have cleared almost everybody's doubt. Its confirmed I'm just simply crazy! Yes, I've cut my hair really short and each hair points in a direction completely different from the neighboring one (I'm growing wiser each day as I aquire knowledge from all angles, you see, they are secretively my antennas). So this is dedicated for all the poeple with a finger (now perverts can stop thinking, ok?) on their nose. I just do what I want to do. I love my new hairstyle. It looks cute and it looks smart. Grateful to all the people who held back their giggle, smirk and everything else and made a bold remark, that they really liked it. Liked it? Com'on love it. I'm finally free, got rid of my untamed perms and now my parents hate this look (no intention to annoy them, but it helps keep all the "eligible" bachelors away!). So people don't get too used to this new look, coz I'm gonna be back with another shocking hair experiment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-113153625823956578?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/113153625823956578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=113153625823956578&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/113153625823956578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/113153625823956578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/11/here-i-go-again.html' title='Here I Go Again!'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112990259940249387</id><published>2005-10-21T18:51:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-10-21T19:43:14.450+05:30</updated><title type='text'>He is Coming Down the Montain, Here He Comes...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/1600/wedding-ceremony2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/320/wedding-ceremony2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The phone rings, My Mother picks up.&lt;br /&gt;She:&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Hello?... aha! oh! hmm... hmmm... hmmm.. oh! great!.. hold on a second"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Now she turns towards me, a hapless creature who is ruthlessly trapped in a crazy world of crazy people who think marriage is the final and only destination for a girl. Back to the conversation now.&lt;br /&gt;She: &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Hey! Your Grandpa's friend's friend's daughter's mother-in-law's nephew"&lt;/span&gt; phew! &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"is searching"&lt;/span&gt; read: hunting desperately &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"for a girl who is a software engineer"&lt;/span&gt; notice the qualification being stressed &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"soooo.... interested?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Mom! but I dont want to marry, not in the near future, you know.."&lt;/span&gt; She stops me&lt;br /&gt;She:&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; "Look the boy"&lt;/span&gt; predator&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"is really well qualified and decent"&lt;/span&gt; and she learnt this in two minutes of introduction.&lt;br /&gt;Me&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;:"But mom!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;She: &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"No buts here!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me:&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; "I'm not interested"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;She: Now returning back to my grandpa's friend's friend &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Leave your number with me, I'll call you back"&lt;/span&gt; she smiles as if he can see her and scribbles the number wrong, and my belief in God grew stronger.&lt;br /&gt;She: &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Look, you are not getting any younger, you will have to get married someday!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Is that a rule?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;She: &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Now don't talk like that!"&lt;/span&gt; never seen her blush so much&lt;br /&gt;Me: Seeing no way out &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Ok tell me what's he doing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;She: Happier&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt; "He is working in Infosys"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me: &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"As a?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;She : &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Of course he will be working as a software engineer!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me: Roll my eyes &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Not necessarily"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;She : &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"He will be! can't you see?"&lt;/span&gt; see what? &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"he is looking for a qualified girl! and he is from *long name* family"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me: out of curiosity &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"how tall is he?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;She: &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"5 feet 5 inches"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"But mom, I'm 5,5!! I need a tall guy!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She: &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"You dont wear high heeled shoes anyway.. so it will work out and besides he is going to US by January next year and he needs to marry before that"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me: &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"What? how will I get to know him in such short time? and what will I do when he goes off in Jan, till I get my Visa should I sit at home n eat nuts?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;She: &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Girls these days! make them economically independent and they forget their manners and culture and &amp;%##$@ &amp;amp;*%%$# @#$$%^# ..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me: I change the TV channel to a local one &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Mom, your serial has started"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;She: &lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Oh! I missed the first 5 minutes! I wonder where that guy ran away with the child, it was so crucial!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Me:&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"Mom.. he is still running"&lt;/span&gt; Geeesh! I slowly slip away. My dad, who was a mute specatator all this time, smiles. It was almost a Hi5.&lt;br /&gt;Now over to next weekend and the drama continues..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112990259940249387?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112990259940249387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112990259940249387&amp;isPopup=true' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112990259940249387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112990259940249387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/10/he-is-coming-down-montain-here-he.html' title='He is Coming Down the Montain, Here He Comes...'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112867861352606565</id><published>2005-10-07T15:12:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-10-07T17:03:59.713+05:30</updated><title type='text'>It Took 1 to Change 287 Bulbs</title><content type='html'>I did the Landmark Forum, one of the programs offered by&lt;a href="http://www.landmarkeducation.com"&gt; Landmark education&lt;/a&gt;, mainly out of curiosity. I wanted to know how it really works to thousands of people world wide and also wanted a miracle to happen. But that's what they teach, miracles dont happen. One has to create his own possiblity and then a miracle happens. Sorry! now I'm talking like them! For three full days and an evening session I got 14 hours of brain drain. They drill to maximum and you'll hate them. Not only do you reach home after midnight, you get assignments, like call people and make them think you've turned lunatic for waking them up from their sweet slumber, just to "complete" something with them and ask sorry for something they have no clue about! If you haven't experienced enough frustation and anger (and boredom), thats the place you ought to be. And whats more annoying is that they cant stop extolling about Landmark, and force you to take up the next level course. The breaks are after two and a half or three hours, so not advisable for people who cant control 'you know what I mean' for long. The breaks are just half hour long and they expect you to finish your visit to loo, the next door Chai shop and complete your assignments by calling people. If you are an irascible person like me, you will feel extremes of emotions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said all that, let me get to its good part. They make you see how silly and stupid you've been coz you are making up stories in your head about your problems that are so minute and worthless to spend your time cribbing about. Also you get to complete a chapter of your life that was in the past but you keep living it everyday! At the end of it all, I was weary, irritated, emotionally vulnerable. The illusion in which I was living in, that nothing can go wrong in my life and everything I do is right, vanished. They dont change you. They wont even take away your problems and they dont make you Mahatma Gandhi. All they do is give you a new perspective towards life. They burst your bubble and slap you, make you stand up and take a look at your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed watching people argue with the leader, just how people argue to prove that they are right. You get to see how unique is each one's problem. People walk up to the stage and put up a show. There was even a junior Meena Kumari (a Bollywood actress who cried buckets of tears). Some even claimed that they were transformed and felt ecstasy, some saw miracles happen and some were left dejected and disapointed. And they was one category in which I fall into, uncertain what happened, but left a little sattisfied. They tried their best to put all of us in advance course, but man! the course fee is too high and I wriggled my way out of it! There are still 10 seminars to attend, but I'm done with this. I did some research today (unfortunately?) on how the Landmark works and came across some shocking personal stories! check them out too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.rickross.com/reference/landmark/landmark79.html"&gt;Turn up, tune in, transform?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.rickross.com/groups/landmark.html"&gt;Reports, Articles and Personal Stories&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112867861352606565?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112867861352606565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112867861352606565&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112867861352606565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112867861352606565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/10/it-took-1-to-change-287-bulbs.html' title='It Took 1 to Change 287 Bulbs'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112712608760551070</id><published>2005-09-19T15:36:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-09-19T17:27:55.590+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Child Woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/1600/untitled.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 270px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 181px" height="181" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/320/untitled.jpg" width="301" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My sister, now married and mother of a 7 month old baby girl, suddenly had the urge to go bowling. She and I were at our parents' home. She bluntly refused the company of my Brother-in-Law, and ordered me to come along. She wanted to bowl, just like old times! It came as a surprise to all of us, as she never leaves her baby behind wherever she goes and she had stopped having fun, two years ago. At the bowling alley she was bubbling with excitement as she lifted a light ball with the brightest color. It had been so long, the poor thing had forgotten how to hold one. Her first shot hardly touched few pins, but she came back grinning. I wanted to let her win, like we do with kids, but thought of giving her a good competition. At the end, I led the score with only a couple of points. I saw the widest smile on her face when she announced she wanted to play another game! I was tired coz I just recovered from viral fever, she was kind enough to let me go. She played the next game alone but was very distracted when she started to think about her baby she left back at home. I called my mom who was baby-sitting and assured my sister the baby is doing fine. After the second game, she called her husband and proudly announced her score. Later we played few games at the video games arcade and she won them. When we returned home, she was rejuvenated. Made me wonder why women forget to have fun when they settle into a family of their own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112712608760551070?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112712608760551070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112712608760551070&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112712608760551070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112712608760551070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/09/child-woman.html' title='Child Woman'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112660011022650551</id><published>2005-09-13T13:52:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-09-13T14:13:55.340+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm sorry for the word verification in my blog's comment window. Have got few weird things published as comments from unknown sources. I thank all the people who still care to comment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112660011022650551?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112660011022650551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112660011022650551&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112660011022650551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112660011022650551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/09/im-sorry-for-word-verification-in-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112549427092495381</id><published>2005-08-31T18:36:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-08-31T18:51:21.823+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Daddy's Little Princess?</title><content type='html'>Its been a long break from the blogger world. I didnt post anything new, neither did I read any. Now I'm back, and I feel refreshed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week I was watching an episode of &lt;a href="http://www2.oprah.com/index_du.jhtml"&gt;Oprah Winfrey Show&lt;/a&gt;. I like this show, and love the work her &lt;a href="http://www2.oprah.com/uyl/oan_landing.jhtml"&gt;Angel Network &lt;/a&gt;does. The topic has been discussed before, talked, mourned and cried. But this time I learnt more. It was about fathers sexually molesting their own daughters! I feel very sad to know that such fathers do exist. First time I came to know about such crimes, I talked to my dad, and asked him how can any father do such a thing. He said these kind of stories are beyond his comprehension and can only be committed by men who are not normal. There was a teenage girl, narrating her story and cried continuously. I admired her courage to do such a thing in front of an audience and a camera. She was finding it so difficult to say her step father had done the same thing to her mentally challenged sister too. He tried to reason it by saying he was looking for acceptance and love. What crap!! But he confessed that such crimes are not committed because of sudden urge or lack of thinking, he said the crime is planned for months. The men actually first just try to get close to their daughters by fondling. On finding no resistance, they try more moves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It was disgusting. Such crimes usually go unnoticed by the law cause the mothers refuse to go against their husbands! sometimes the girl keep this as a secret as she is afraid that her mother might choose her husband over the girl. I could see anger and comtempt in Oprah's eyes, a victim herself. Her words were bitter when she told the audience that the criminals, on found gulity are sentenced to therapy and just 5 or less number of years of imprisonment. Horrific to know that, as these crimes are worse than manslaughter. I was so glad to have a father whom I love and respect.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112549427092495381?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112549427092495381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112549427092495381&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112549427092495381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112549427092495381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/08/daddys-little-princess.html' title='Daddy&apos;s Little Princess?'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112368035102715020</id><published>2005-08-10T18:46:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-08-10T19:02:05.513+05:30</updated><title type='text'>What Men Want...</title><content type='html'>One question I usually ask my guy friends is, what do they find attractive in a woman. This has always been a very interesting topic of discussion for me coz sometimes I get very surprising answers. Eyes, face, figure has been some of the common things listed but one thing that is common to almost 99% of the guys I have talked to, is long hair. I simply dont understand why! Long hair does add beauty to a girl but there are girls who look pretty in very short hair too. It just depends on the way they style and groom it, which I am really bad at. If good hair matters then I am one of the ugliest females living!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One answer was unique, the guy first observes the girl's arms. If they are in good shape then that makes the girl sexy.Very interesting. I never knew this before. But its not funny, its just his point of view. There is one guy I know who first sees the girl's nails. If they are well groomed and painted with rich colors she is found to be sexy. Now that is weird. Just nails makes someone attractive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there is the dress and accessories that come into picture. I find it very funny that guys find girls in modern attire, with short skirts and jeans very appealing but once they have a girlfriend, she looks good only in a salwar kameez, so insist on wearing that. Why is that? I asked my friend and he had this to say - Girls look pretty in jeans but they look beautiful in salwar kameez. Really?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking too much is a turn off. But if she is silent most of the times, the girl is considered to be dim-witted. Good smile kills, but if she smiles too much, she is a flirt. Lean girls are OK, voluptuous is better but fat girls are funny. She must be intelligent but shouldn't give smart advices. Hmmm, so are men epitome of perfection?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112368035102715020?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112368035102715020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112368035102715020&amp;isPopup=true' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112368035102715020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112368035102715020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/08/what-men-want.html' title='What Men Want...'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112262496758947233</id><published>2005-07-29T13:41:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-07-29T14:54:35.716+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My first heart attack... well ok, a mild one.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/1600/animote-girl-camper-surprised1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/320/animote-girl-camper-surprised1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td&gt;Me:I had permed my hair few months ago. Now I got bored of it. Can u suggest something?&lt;br /&gt;Beautician : Well, let me ask my girl to take a look at it.&lt;br /&gt;girl: Her hair seems strong enough, I think she can go for it.&lt;br /&gt;Beautician: Alright then, we will first condition your hair for the treatment, in the next sitting, I will treat your hair, then I will make it straight!&lt;br /&gt;Me: Good! so will you be open on weekends?&lt;br /&gt;Beautician: Only on Saturdays.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Alright, I will call and take the appointment. So how much approximately will you charge me for this?&lt;br /&gt;Beautician: Ammmm, see it depends on the length of you hair, since yours is little below the shoulder, it will cost you around 3000 to 3500 or 4 probably.&lt;br /&gt;Me: uh.. ammm ..oh ... ah ... oh...kayyy...fine..ummm...I will call.. bbye.&lt;br /&gt;I never called. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112262496758947233?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112262496758947233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112262496758947233&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112262496758947233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112262496758947233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/07/my-first-heart-attack-well-ok-mild-one.html' title='My first heart attack... well ok, a mild one.'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112255672442333214</id><published>2005-07-28T18:20:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-07-28T18:53:08.836+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Excuse Me for not being a Snob</title><content type='html'>I walked into a designer store. Had bought a Ghagra long time back, just needed to get some alterations done. I was in my jeans, not so new tees, a bag on both my shoulders, sneakers which were a bit muddy and a helmet in one hand. The saleswoman gave me a surprise look. I put down the skirt and gave instructions. She was still not listening to me. She had already judged me even before I spoke. I had to repeat and talk firmly this time to grab her attention. She first denied its a creation from the store. How strange is that? Then she took a look at the dress and she was surprised at what she saw. She said "Yes, indeed its from our store!" It was hard for her to digest the fact that a girl like me could own such a dress. To my amazement she even asked me to whom this dress belongs to! I said bluntly " Does it matter? just tell me will you do it or not?" I was losing my temper by now coz the woman was still staring at me with a blank expression and wasnt speaking anything. Finally she agreed. Then I just left the store giving her my contact number. Before I walked out I turned back and asked "So, when can I come to collect &lt;strong&gt;MY&lt;/strong&gt; dress?"&lt;br /&gt;I really wonder who gives them the right to judge a customer with what he/she is wearing or how good they look. Isnt it their duty to just help the customer, without judging that person on weather he/she can buy or not? They forget that they cant even afford to buy the items!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112255672442333214?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112255672442333214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112255672442333214&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112255672442333214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112255672442333214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/07/excuse-me-for-not-being-snob.html' title='Excuse Me for not being a Snob'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112253875715630271</id><published>2005-07-28T13:46:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-07-28T13:56:14.370+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Choco Delight II</title><content type='html'>&lt;img height=" 250" width ="400" align =" CENTER" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/IMG_0126.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am proud of my new collection!My &lt;a href="http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005_03_01_deepthis_archive.html"&gt;previous collection &lt;/a&gt;had dwindled too soon. And now I have a more beautiful one. I am so totally in love with this. I thank two of my nearest and dearest friends for making this possible.&lt;br /&gt;Note: Each gram of chocolate is in mint condition for consumption. All bear a manufacturing date of a recent time. For people who feel this post is silly, dont bother to comment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112253875715630271?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112253875715630271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112253875715630271&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112253875715630271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112253875715630271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/07/choco-delight-ii.html' title='Choco Delight II'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112177730042359750</id><published>2005-07-19T18:10:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-07-28T14:07:52.190+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Pirates and the Little Monster</title><content type='html'>"Pirates Of The Carribean - The Curse Of The Black Pearl", recommended as the perfect movie for a couple to watch together, reason, men love adventure, women love Johny Depp. Its a nice, 'worth a watch once' movie. But Watching it with a 5 month old naughty, baby girl is a different experience. First time, I watched it with my parents, was forced to watch it again last sunday by my sister, who desperatley wanted to, coz she had to return the DVD to the library the following day. Since the movie has out of this world soundtrack, my niece was hooked onto the images flickering on the idiot box. My sister tried avoiding this by holding her in the opposite direction, which made the cutie so angry she started to yell and scream! Entire 2 and odd hours she screamed and cried. My sister put her on my lap as I wasnt very interested. She tried desperately to follow the dialogues, coz if you dont, you wont understand what's the whole deal about the adventure. She kept asking me what did this guy say, what did that girl say, hellooo...How am I supposed to remember the lines? Its not a bollywood superstar delivering them! All this time my niece is trying to be a trapeze artist slipping frm my arms. My sis fed her, tried to keep her quiet, but all in vain! By the end of the movie, which my sister would have wished all the characters die and go to hell, as she was dead tired, we lay there on the couches, exhausted, TV on and the little monster giggling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112177730042359750?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112177730042359750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112177730042359750&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112177730042359750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112177730042359750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/07/pirates-and-little-monster.html' title='Pirates and the Little Monster'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112125760741109580</id><published>2005-07-13T17:42:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-07-13T17:56:47.416+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Desperate Measures</title><content type='html'>Few days back I was having dinner alone at a small eating joint closeby to my house. Though my mouth ulcers were screaming with pain I was slurping away rice and hot rasam. Just then a man walked in and sat in a table next to mine. His personality was that of a businessman. He started to stare. At first I was uncomfortable for a while, then I ignored him and continued to enjoy my &lt;em&gt;Thali&lt;/em&gt;. He took out his cell phone and dialled. I doubt that he was talking to anybody at all. He started talking to some "SIR" in Hindi. Excerpts from the "conversation":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why dont you stay at my place? Its a big home! You dont have to spend so much on hotel bills sir"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh common! Mine is a 3 bedroom house and you know I dont have a wife! I dont even have a girlfriend" Ok now he is giving details.&lt;br /&gt;"Hey! Its in Koramangala, very close to Forum, I watch movies every weekend" long pause...stare..."alone" shucks!! this is too much!&lt;br /&gt;"No no, you dont need to book a taxi, You can use my Ikon, cause I often use my Octavia....hey I sold my accent and planning to buy any new model" yeah, what about your Ferrari?!&lt;br /&gt;"Business is doing so good! Just now I decided to export!" To timbuktu?&lt;br /&gt;All this time I am trying not to listen but he is screaming at top of his voice. The rest of the crowd too was looking at this guy, some even stopped eating.&lt;br /&gt;"What will I do with my MBA degree? First class is of no use" Then he yelled out his percentage which I dont remember.&lt;br /&gt;The waiter approaches, he asks about the items available. Then the guy has a problem with everything, "oh! thats oily" "oh! I cant eat so much" "No way!It wont be good to eat"  "Sir, I always avoid such cheap places, but today I am in a hurry" " Glass is not clean, water is not completely clear" If only I could shout GET A LIFE!!&lt;br /&gt;I just couldnt take it anymore. I quickly finished my dinner, payed and I left uttering something in hindi which meant "people can fall to any level to get noticed" I dont remember what exactly I said, but I hope I was grammatically correct. I believe he heard me, coz his conversation with the SIR ended abruptly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112125760741109580?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112125760741109580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112125760741109580&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112125760741109580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112125760741109580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/07/desperate-measures.html' title='Desperate Measures'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112055725425037725</id><published>2005-07-05T15:20:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-07-29T14:45:41.116+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/1600/no3120_00.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/28/655/320/no3120_00.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mobile phone is a very loyal friend of mine, though I sometimes consider it as a nuisance. A kind of a friend you cant live with nor can you live without. I might be way too careless in handling this thing and I have dropped it numerous times. Call me butterfingers but it just slips from my palm! Its a sleek and small handset and lots of times when I have tried to grab it in a hurry or just pick it up casually, I have manhandled it. It withstood the torture for months with minor scratches but two weeks ago, the umpteenth time, it said enough is enough and went on a strike. It just refused to ring and alert me when I get a call or a message. Since it was still under warranty, I thought of getting it repaired using it. I know warranty does not cover such accidents but just wanted to give it a shot. But the repair kept on postponing, I needed my phone to be with me all the time, as I was expecting important calls. Few days later I was trying on a PEPE JEANS which was on sale ( I dont recommend to even to take a look at this sale) and my phone slipped from my trouser's pocket and fell down hard. I was glad it was still in one piece. Few minutes later my sister called me and it rang!! I couldnt believe it! I was laughing like a mad person while other shoppers and my friends watched in bewilderment. This reminded me of Bollywood movies where a person, who loses his memory after a bump on his head, gets it back after another.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112055725425037725?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112055725425037725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112055725425037725&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112055725425037725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112055725425037725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/07/my-mobile-phone-is-very-loyal-friend.html' title=''/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-112012196961809213</id><published>2005-06-30T14:22:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-30T15:06:00.303+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Me Tagged Too..</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="WIDTH: 267px; HEIGHT: 120px" height="100" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/Books.jpg" width="250" allign=" cnter" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been book tagged, not a good idea to tag me coz I am not a voracious reader. I dont know how this works. Do we get the freedom to choose our questions too? Well I'll do this the way I want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Number of books owned:&lt;/strong&gt; I have no idea, and I am lazy to count. Probably around 10 novels, lots of technical books, I just had this stupid notion that owning them would give me an intelligent flair, around 50 comic books. About 30 borrowed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Book I love to read regularly:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Reader's Digest&lt;/span&gt; [ok, its a magazine]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favourite book:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Calvin and Hobbes&lt;/span&gt;, The days are just packed [Thanks again for the person who gifted this ]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Current read:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Fountainhead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;by Ayn Rand [when will I finish this!!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Best read:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;The Good Earth&lt;/span&gt; by Pearl S Buck, &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Kane and Abel&lt;/span&gt; by Jeffery Archer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Worst read:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Abduction &lt;/span&gt;by Robin Cook [I will never read his books again]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Book I will never finish :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari&lt;/span&gt; [ sorry pal, this was your only bad suggestion ]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Book I almost died to finish reading:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Angels And Deamons&lt;/span&gt; by Dan Brown [ everything is exaggerated ]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Book I enjoyed reading every page:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;5 Point Someone &lt;/span&gt;by Chetan Bhagat [ though I doubt its his story in IIT ]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Book that I bought long ago but is still good as new:&lt;/strong&gt; Data Structures in C and C++ by Tenenbaum [sorry if there is a spell mistake in the name]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Best possession :&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Gone With The Wind&lt;/span&gt; by Margaret Mitchell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Best movie inspired from a book:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Gone With The Wind&lt;/span&gt;, again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Books I have avoided:&lt;/strong&gt; The entire &lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Mills and Boons&lt;/span&gt; series [Yes, I am still a Piscean]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Book that I treasure the most:&lt;/strong&gt; My college note book in which all my friends drew pictures and signed them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Favorite comic books:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;Calvin and Hobbes, Archies comics, Asterix, Chandamama&lt;/span&gt; [I dont know if this book is still in circulation]&lt;br /&gt;Okay I am done here, have to get back to work. It is killing me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh wait...I tag these people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://hotcuppa.blogspot.com"&gt;Cinnamon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://satyashilblog.blogspot.com/"&gt;Sattu&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://s-a-n-j-e-e-v.blogspot.com/"&gt;Sanju&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://poojasblogs.blogspot.com"&gt;Pooja&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://krishnamoorthy.blogspot.com"&gt;Krish&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-112012196961809213?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/112012196961809213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=112012196961809213&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112012196961809213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/112012196961809213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/06/me-tagged-too.html' title='Me Tagged Too..'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111987791235311483</id><published>2005-06-27T18:38:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-27T20:24:40.290+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Have You Ever...?</title><content type='html'>Let your hair loose and let it fly in the cool breeze, and smiled when&lt;br /&gt;the strands hit your face&lt;br /&gt;Waved to a stranger's kid and watch it wave back to you and giggle&lt;br /&gt;Ate ice cream as soon as you were out of the bed&lt;br /&gt;Danced in the rain and smiled back at the people who were watching you in amusement&lt;br /&gt;Gone home after a long time and parents hugged and kissed and said how much they missed you&lt;br /&gt;Held a naked baby in your arms and watched it fall asleep&lt;br /&gt;Trusted your friend so deep that you believe every word the person says&lt;br /&gt;Watched the moonless night sky when the entire town had a blackout&lt;br /&gt;Imagined your favorite song being played in your head over and over again&lt;br /&gt;Came home cold and tired and someone offered you a hot mug of coffee&lt;br /&gt;Watched a full moon rising like a big orange candy&lt;br /&gt;Made someone laugh and just sat looking at the person's pretty laughter&lt;br /&gt;While cleaning up the wardrobe, you found your 6th grade class photo and your first crush smiles back at you&lt;br /&gt;Visited your old school and stood in the playground and imagined your school days and the dreams you had&lt;br /&gt;Tried flying a kite on your office terrace and not be embarrassed that your attempts are failing&lt;br /&gt;Thought about a long lost friend the whole day and the very next day she drops a mail in your inbox&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111987791235311483?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111987791235311483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111987791235311483&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111987791235311483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111987791235311483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/06/have-you-ever.html' title='Have You Ever...?'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111944502950811109</id><published>2005-06-22T18:17:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-22T19:13:32.633+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Closure</title><content type='html'>The teacher pulled up his fat glasses over his broad nose and called out her name, and he made it sound so sweet.The girl with plump cheeks and fair skin stood up and as she walked she smirked and looked at me, but just for two seconds as she moved on and faked a surprise look, though she was sure she stood first in the class. She was the favorite, she was the sweet-heart and she was popular. I never craved to be like her, I was happy and content, but&lt;br /&gt;it was she who always compared herself to me, maybe she was insecure. She would work hard to score higher, she would do anything to please the instructor to get the lead role in the dance performance. I just gave her competition and watched in amusement.Yes, I was evil, but didnt mean to be malevolent. Her attempt to make me feel inferior and her failure to do so, amused me even more. She is related to me [ and no, I dont want to trace the family tree] and was considered better than me by grannies, aunties and mamas. It was a blessing in disguise for me, cause there were no expectations from me. After school we went our seperate ways. She struggled to finish her graduation, while I maintained my average scores, graduated and got a decent job. One of these best days of my life I met her, recently. She is now lean and looked tired. She is married to a man born more than a decade before us, who was chosen by her parents. She asked what am I doing these days. The smirk was now just a lazy smile.I didnt gratify my evil self, instead shook her hand, gave her warm wishes, tasted the ice cream she offered and left after the exchange of goodbyes. I think we both closed this chapter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111944502950811109?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111944502950811109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111944502950811109&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111944502950811109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111944502950811109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/06/closure.html' title='Closure'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111898845119016894</id><published>2005-06-17T11:34:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-17T11:50:08.216+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I Am Watching You</title><content type='html'>I have always felt sorry for celebrities and people who are in news cause they are constantly watched and every action of theirs is scrutinized to minute detail. But now I can empathise with them. Not that I am popular but I am being watched and monitored all the time. It might be the consequence of knowing lot of people, maybe my life seems interesting for some or maybe because of this blog. Yes, I have left lot of personal information in this blog before, but my intention was only to write what I feel like. I am trying to curb that practice, thanks to few near and dear ones. Now I'll have to think twice before writing a post here or hang out with a friend. I have to guard my cell phone all the time cause anytime it can go into someone's hand and in an instance its menu-&gt;messages-&gt;inbox!! and a loud "aahh!!" followed by "who is this? " and a tussle as I try to grab it back. My parents are no less too. My open minded and liberal mom has changed completely, thanks to so called "concerned" aunt. Now not only do I have to report my status to my manager, every night I report where I am, whom I'm with, to my mom. In office, there are curious eyes watching what I do, even as I type this. I used to lose my temper on my friend who used to ask me very personal questions. Every person has the right to his/her personal space where no one can intrude, not even their life partners, but I guess the term 'privacy' is losing its meaning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111898845119016894?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111898845119016894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111898845119016894&amp;isPopup=true' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111898845119016894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111898845119016894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/06/i-am-watching-you.html' title='I Am Watching You'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111841170506324391</id><published>2005-06-10T18:56:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-10T19:28:14.053+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Musings</title><content type='html'>I see a rickshaw emitting a thick exhaust smoke, flaunting a sign "Dont Pollute the Air" yeah, like saying "leave that work to me". Jerk!This is heights of absurdity!and I think of these..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Height of rip off: 8 candies in Sweet World at Forum cost 68 rupees!&lt;br /&gt;Height of torturing employees: More than 2 meetings per day. Even worse, scheduling a meeting to discuss what to be discussed in the next meeting.&lt;br /&gt;Height of irritation: When 3 people come into my cubicle, and chat aloud with another team mate, in a language that cant be understood.&lt;br /&gt;Height of absent-mindedness: My Brother-in-Law walks past me, looks at me, but I failed to even recognise him!&lt;br /&gt;Height of stupidity: Wearing my favorite white dress even if aware that its going to rain that evening.&lt;br /&gt;Height of Laziness: So lazy to cook even if hungry, that I rather eat an apple and go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;Height of happiness: could I be anymore happier than what I am now?&lt;br /&gt;Height of mixed feelings: &lt;a href="http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/04/mrs-indira-says.html"&gt;Mrs.Indira &lt;/a&gt;giving me a big bar of chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;Height of smartness: Caught daydreaming in a meeting yet again, but this time I said "I was pondering over the points you put forth,I think..blah blah"&lt;br /&gt;Height of expectation: Expecting a treat from &lt;a href="http://kanishkaagiwal.blogspot.com/2005/05/my-precious.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; friend of mine.&lt;br /&gt;Height of gluttony: Ate so much of home cooked food, another bite would have ripped my stomach apart.&lt;br /&gt;Height of addiction: One whole day without chocolate made me depressed enough to kill myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111841170506324391?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111841170506324391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111841170506324391&amp;isPopup=true' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111841170506324391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111841170506324391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/06/musings.html' title='Musings'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111771684157854810</id><published>2005-06-02T18:16:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-03T09:42:50.743+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Daydreaming Again</title><content type='html'>I have always been a daydreamer. Yes, while sitting,standing,talking, any time of the day I start dreaming or just think something else and I get so engrossed that I completely forget whats around me. And these are not any princess dreams, but just recollecting what happened before or thinking about what might happen if I do such and such a thing. But tuesday's experience left me embrassed and the rest amused. In the status meeting, there was a discussion on some technical issue which wasn't related to my project and wasn't interesting. And me, well I was wondering will I ever make it as a good manager. Will the employees listen to me? Having a bad temper, what if I punched people who didnt listen?! Then my attention shifted to a tree I could see through the window, wondering how old the tree might be, what if I lived that long and I had to stand in the same place for life!! And then my manager called my name. Before I could realize what was happening he shot a question at me, "what is your opinion on this? ".I shook my head and said I agree with T. Everyone looked at me in bewilderment. Then my manager calmly said "T has not given his opinion yet". All I had left to say was sorry and looked at the slide on the projected screen, commented something stupid and continued taking minutes. The end of the day, I had the most embrassing moment in recent times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111771684157854810?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111771684157854810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111771684157854810&amp;isPopup=true' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111771684157854810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111771684157854810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/06/daydreaming-again.html' title='Daydreaming Again'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111718975938355993</id><published>2005-05-27T15:52:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-27T17:40:56.553+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Our Place</title><content type='html'>Finally I found a place to hangout, my favourite place in Bangalore! I have one in my home town where I always love to spend time with my friends or my sister and the pizzas are delicious. I only order one variety of dessert each time and the guy knows it even before I order it. And there is this big board where we can write anything under the sun. Now in this city, I am home again. I love this place. It has a little playground in front and cute kids come here to play.The chuckles and giggles on the swing, their attempts to not fall at the end of the slide, the happy faces on the merry-go-round...its heaven. I love watching the babies lick ice creams. And while I sat on the swing, for hours having a nice conversation, I fell in love.&lt;br /&gt;I will not reveal the name and location. Its just named "our place".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111718975938355993?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111718975938355993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111718975938355993&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111718975938355993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111718975938355993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/05/our-place.html' title='Our Place'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111717887966673697</id><published>2005-05-27T12:39:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-27T12:57:59.670+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Hmm...</title><content type='html'>The need to have something, so bad that you hope, cry and pray every night. You keep waiting for it, anxious every time you think about it. You are desperate but cant do anything about it.  You start living with the fact its not happening but still wishing. And, out of the blue, when you have given up, its there, right in front of your face and you realise that, you have moved on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111717887966673697?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111717887966673697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111717887966673697&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111717887966673697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111717887966673697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/05/hmm.html' title='Hmm...'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111700320741797990</id><published>2005-05-25T12:06:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-26T10:25:51.216+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Conversation Overheard</title><content type='html'>She sits in the scorching heat, using her hand to shield the glaring sun to look away. He stands there looking at her with vehement emotions and&lt;br /&gt;says "I have never been so serious in my life, I love you, and I want this to work out".&lt;br /&gt;She says "I need something to drink".&lt;br /&gt;He says "Diet coke?".&lt;br /&gt;She nods.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111700320741797990?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111700320741797990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111700320741797990&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111700320741797990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111700320741797990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/05/conversation-overheard.html' title='Conversation Overheard'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111649681416335189</id><published>2005-05-19T13:54:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-20T08:57:17.203+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I Will</title><content type='html'>I left office yesterday evening and instead of walking back to my appartment I just kept on walking for about an hour and made a mental note of few dos and donts and things I ought to remember all time. What better way then put them in my personal space!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The list:&lt;br /&gt;- I will cut down my caffeine intake to half.&lt;br /&gt;- I will stop biting my finger nails.&lt;br /&gt;- I am going to start my morning walk again.&lt;br /&gt;- I will ask someone to get lost from my life for good.&lt;br /&gt;- I will not let my team mates treat me like just another pretty face with no brains.They better start recognising my contribution. Have already taken the first step.&lt;br /&gt;- I must ask him where are we heading in this relationship.&lt;br /&gt;- I will control my temper, try to think once before making a rude remark.&lt;br /&gt;- I will learn to say NO and I'm not going to tolerate any non-sense.&lt;br /&gt;- I will not kill Mrs.Indira, but I will find a new place to live.&lt;br /&gt;- I hate to work as a software engineer, and I wont hide the fact anymore, but I will do my job earnestly.&lt;br /&gt;- I am not fat. And people who think I am can just go to hell.&lt;br /&gt;- I am not going to exhibit myself in front of losers, so that they offer me a marriage proposal.I wont get my snaps taken too.&lt;br /&gt;- I am loved by so many people, I will never complain that my life sucks.&lt;br /&gt;- I wont pretend anymore I like Chinese food.&lt;br /&gt;- I aint stopping doing things that make me happy and will do everything my way.&lt;br /&gt;- I will take up the course that I've been planning to do for years.&lt;br /&gt;- I wont think about the past nor will I plan my future.&lt;br /&gt;- I will not give up chocolates, no matter what my friends, family or my doctor say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it rained again while I walked back :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111649681416335189?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111649681416335189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111649681416335189&amp;isPopup=true' title='37 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111649681416335189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111649681416335189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/05/i-will.html' title='I Will'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>37</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111641842033926746</id><published>2005-05-18T17:39:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-18T17:43:40.343+05:30</updated><title type='text'>She..</title><content type='html'>She is a good girl, introvert and shy. Never had close friends since childhood, her only solace was in her little sister who she loves like her own child. She found a best friend in her and would do anything to see the younger sibling happy. Been ridiculed by kids in school, scars still remain. She found comfort in her mother's unconditional love. Being the first born, the young shoulders bore heavy responsibilties. She matured well ahead of her age. She begs to be indifferent to fashion but she does enough justice to her aristocratic looks. She grew to be cute damsel, with butter skin and sweetest smile. She looked at the world with her big black innocent eyes. A prince cought her eye and she fell in love. For years he gifted her dreams and she lived in a beautiful bubble which burst and broke her down. She still lives with the old scars but has a strong will to live through all that she has endured. There is another man in her life now, but she isnt loved the way she deserves to be. He doesnt know how precious she is to her family. She cries silent tears and says her newborn is her world now and has no time to think of anything else. She screams and cries for vengeance, few minutes slip by and she is ready to forgive. She has love in abundance but her man doesnt care enough.Its a shame that the world doesnt appreciate a beautiful human being like her. Wish she could be more like me, give back what you get, but then deep inside, I long to be like her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111641842033926746?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111641842033926746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111641842033926746&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111641842033926746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111641842033926746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/05/she.html' title='She..'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111596576311785509</id><published>2005-05-13T11:09:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-13T13:43:24.846+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Being Single</title><content type='html'>I read a very interesting article in Deccan Herald's Living supplement. It was an article about single men and women. Not only did it have stories about single youth but also about people who are living for years, all alone. There was one interesting line that a doctor said. She said "when you are living alone, you cant afford to fall ill". She was speaking for me. This whole week I was ill, still am, which explains my dry days in this blog, and also that my blogshares have dropped 1000 points!! Coming back to the point, I took leave for a day and a half. I couldnt sit in the AC room for long and felt very tired. But when I was in my room, I was bored to the maximum. With just a radio and a novel, fiction has never been my favorite, I was looking for things to pass time. Called few friends of mine. But got lot of time to think about what I plan to do, how to manage relationships, how to say NO in the most polite way. Maybe that should be my next buy, a book on 'Learn how to say NO'. Why am I wandering from what I am supposed to write?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the fact is, no matter how much we singles enjoy the freedom of being our own boss, doing things on our terms and no one to share the bathrooms! Had to mention that, there is the inevitable loneliness. Never felt so alone before. Now I'm sick, and have nobody to take care of me, well not entirely true, a very sweet friend is helping me in all the possible ways he can. The downpart is washing and cleaning even though I'm tired and my whole body aches, preparing my own meal (really missed my family this week. Gosh! I used to be so pampered when I fell ill).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But its a very good experience to live alone. I got plenty of time to spend with myself and learn lot of things which I wouldnt have known otherwise. But there are occasional raised eyebrows, questions about why a young girl is still single and doubts about the orientation which I have to deal with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111596576311785509?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111596576311785509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111596576311785509&amp;isPopup=true' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111596576311785509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111596576311785509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/05/being-single.html' title='Being Single'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111527241183223902</id><published>2005-05-05T11:29:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-05T20:12:50.713+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Once In a Lifetime</title><content type='html'>The date! Its supposed to be historical. 05/05/05 comes once in a lifetime. My mailbox is being flooded with many of these crap mails. I dont think its a big deal though..hmm..So what are the things that comes *only* once in a lifetime for everybody?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First love ( ah! I know that is very first thing any one would say)&lt;br /&gt;First kiss ( I mean the first of all first ones )&lt;br /&gt;Losing virginity&lt;br /&gt;First performance&lt;br /&gt;Marriage, for some&lt;br /&gt;Childhood (Wish I never grew up, maybe I havent! )&lt;br /&gt;High School (The best days of my life)&lt;br /&gt;First pay (Oh! how I loved it when I spent it all )&lt;br /&gt;The chance to let someone you love, know how you feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant think of any more right now. I'm just too happy and pre-occupied!&lt;br /&gt;And it rained yesterday, exactly the time I left office. The heavens poured on&lt;br /&gt;me as I walked and I did a little jiggy dance, which few people at Java City&lt;br /&gt;watched. But who cares!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111527241183223902?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111527241183223902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111527241183223902&amp;isPopup=true' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111527241183223902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111527241183223902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/05/once-in-lifetime.html' title='Once In a Lifetime'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111483615605310741</id><published>2005-04-30T11:01:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-02T13:54:44.140+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I Walked Another Mile</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I hold back a tear and fake a smile&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But you see my pain right through it all&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You said that you love me so deep, yet&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why do I hesitate to take the fall.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;No one knows me like you do&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Wouldnt let me cry even for a while&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I fear to tread this path unknown, but&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Everytime we talk I walk another mile.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Deepthi&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111483615605310741?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111483615605310741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111483615605310741&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111483615605310741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111483615605310741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/04/i-walked-another-mile.html' title='I Walked Another Mile'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111451210231035697</id><published>2005-04-27T16:05:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-02T13:55:49.020+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Mrs. Indira says...</title><content type='html'>Its a real challenge to live with old people. It is a different story if the person is your grandparent, but if he/she is your landlord, you would think atleast once of committing a murder or suicide. My landlady Mrs. Indira is around 75 years old, quite fit for her age, and full of energy to irritate me.&lt;br /&gt;Here is the list of things she says or do that annoys me.&lt;br /&gt;She spends her entire day at the Bangalore Club, playing Poker or Tambola, boozing, and she expects me to be back every night before 9 PM.&lt;br /&gt;Repeats the same thing over and over again, every time I return, "switch of the light, tighten the tap, close the door properly,..."&lt;br /&gt;Every time I iron my clothes, "Dont forget to switch off the iron, if it gets too heated, it might blast and bring down the entire apartment building", really? A small iron box! how??&lt;br /&gt;"No cooking after 8 in the night, the cockroaches from outside the apartment will get the smell and will come inside" Didnt know they are nocturnal.&lt;br /&gt;"Do you use the water heater?" before I could ask her if she going to stop me from using it, she said "good, you know otherwise the water will go stale if not used for long, and when switched on after a long time, it might blast", I think she watches a lot of Bollywood movies.&lt;br /&gt;When I'm all set to leave for office, she thrusts a mop stick into my hand and asks me mop to the bathroom!&lt;br /&gt;She has to open up her album, the exact time when I'm late for something and show me the same damn photos everytime without sparing me the story of her journey from riches to rags. "You have to be thankful to our ancestors[Madrasi Tamilians, I guess]that youngsters like you have the right to speak in English.They fought with Muslim leaders,who wanted to make Urdu-Hindi the official language of India and get rid of English". I dont know what her ancestors did, but didnt do a good job putting some sense into her.&lt;br /&gt;I would just go on complaining but its better I stop it here.Its really surprising that though I am short tempered I always try my best to be nice to her, She is afterall a senior citizen, and living all by herself too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111451210231035697?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111451210231035697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111451210231035697&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111451210231035697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111451210231035697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/04/mrs-indira-says.html' title='Mrs. Indira says...'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111380045199572963</id><published>2005-04-17T21:57:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-04-18T10:54:50.046+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Gray Is The New Color</title><content type='html'>Yesterday being a sunday, had planned to get up late.But my land lady had to wake me up early with her weird questions. So grumbling I started with my routine work. while getting ready, I faced the mirror and what followed was not a pleasant situation. Of course the big nose and the messy hair has always been a problem but what I stared at now was what I never expected. There! in the rays of the rising sun, glistened a single long strand of gray hair!! At first I thought I saw my streaked strand of hair.But this was of a different color. It was a shock. At first I consoled myself saying this is the result of all the treatments done to my hair, but is it because of the age? I'm only 23 I screamed! My land lady knocked on my door and gave me a strange look. I looked at her hair, all white, without any trace of black, damn!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother asked me not to worry about it, else it will multiply! Is there any scientific proof for this? Few people believe that tension causes gray hair. Got to do some research on this. Resisted plucking it out, advice from my sister. What if I get more? Coloring is an option, but this is a sad situation. I had pictured myself with gray hair when I'm in my late forties, taking care of my family with children in college. If my father finds out he will have only one advice to give,&lt;br /&gt;get married soon. damn!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111380045199572963?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111380045199572963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111380045199572963&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111380045199572963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111380045199572963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/04/gray-is-new-color.html' title='Gray Is The New Color'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111363756730358363</id><published>2005-04-16T13:14:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-04-18T14:31:31.180+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Wanting to be lead again to the place where dreams came true &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The sweet sight of roses and droplets of honey dew&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Roses have withered but the fragrance still lingers&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My mind still resounded by your sweet whispers&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Days have gone by, dont see you anymore&lt;br /&gt;No regrets no memories that are sore&lt;br /&gt;While dreams of you I see&lt;br /&gt;Dream a little dream of me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111363756730358363?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111363756730358363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111363756730358363&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111363756730358363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111363756730358363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/04/wanting-to-be-lead-again-to-place.html' title=''/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111330848634817924</id><published>2005-04-13T17:46:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-04T15:57:16.996+05:30</updated><title type='text'>HP Habba</title><content type='html'>HP Habba, thats the name of the fest we had last week for our BU in HP, festival of no work and all play. Rehearsed for the show for 3 weeks.The week before the event were just packed. No work and just practice, realized how much I lagged behind at work after the fest. I enjoyed myself completely. More than event, I had great fun at the practice sessions. I made many new friends, now I exchange pleasantries with people I never spoke to before. And few of us call one another with the names of the roles we played in the skit. I got the chance to act, dance and even sing a couple of lines from a jingle. All of which won me few admirers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our team won the runner-up prize which was well deserved. The prizes were a let down. It didnt quite gratify the participants for their hard work, even the dinner treat wasnt re-imbursed, but just thinking about the whole experience, the rehearsals, hunting for costumes, the discussions about the script, evening snack time, the bus ride to the auditorium, advertising our show, cheering for our team which reminded me of my college days, screaming and whistling, praying and hoping we make it through the show without any major flaws,the tension, the smug expressions on our face when any other team didnt perform well and feeling envious of the team that did, and finally celebrating was simply superb and unforgettable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I liked this photo of my dance, its different :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img height =" 225" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/DSC00075.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111330848634817924?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111330848634817924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111330848634817924&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111330848634817924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111330848634817924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/04/hp-habba.html' title='HP Habba'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111209164001255219</id><published>2005-03-30T16:57:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-02T13:58:02.513+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Choco-Delight</title><content type='html'>yeah!yeah! I finally have almost enough chocolates to finally realise my fantasy I had for years. I've always fantasized about building a house with chocolates and candies. How lovely! Well, not to the magnitude of a real house but atleast now I can build a doll house. I resisted eating all chocolates gifted to me on my birthday, grateful to all my friends who gifted them, just to see how much I can collect. Now my cupboard looks so beautiful. My first love has always been chocolates and if I see any eatable flavored with this, I just devour it. So maybe in few days I wont fit into my clothes. I can visualise few reading this would be drooling and would envy my collection. But dont come looking for it. Tonight is the night for this glutton to indulge herself in what she loves to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111209164001255219?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111209164001255219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111209164001255219&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111209164001255219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111209164001255219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/03/choco-delight_30.html' title='Choco-Delight'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111140507474934855</id><published>2005-03-22T18:33:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-04T18:00:54.700+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Twist In the Tale</title><content type='html'>&lt;table&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 126px; HEIGHT: 200px" height="200" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/blog.jpg" width="150" align=" CENTER" /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. So I got my hair &lt;a href="http://www.pg.com/science/haircare/hair_twh_83.htm"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;permed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. Why make it a big deal?! Everyday having the same hair, combing it the same way, was boring and I experimented with my hair,which I have done lots of time before but hasnt been this noticeable, Because my hair would get back to normal pretty soon. I was stuck with the same hair style for almost 7 years and just went to my trusted beautician and asked her to do anything different no matter if its even on a wild side. I really liked it. So now i'm talk of HULKUL(my building) for having a weird hairdo. Seriously didnt crave for attention but feels great to do something other than the ordinary. Few have actually liked it.The most interesting way of looking it is, *critics* of people like me trying to do different, are the ones who have nothing interesting happening in their lives so they try to find funny things in our lives to joke about. This was not my words but I totally agree with this. This has certainly worked in my advantage. My parents always talk about offers I'm getting for marriage during weekends when I'm at home. They were thinking of giving up to plan the "meetings" when i cut my hair short. Now, they just dont talk about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111140507474934855?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111140507474934855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111140507474934855&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111140507474934855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111140507474934855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/03/twist-in-tale.html' title='A Twist In the Tale'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-111045029676817603</id><published>2005-03-10T17:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-02T13:58:36.736+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Bumps</title><content type='html'>Turned a year older this week, but didnt become any wiser. Didnt have the enthusiasm to celebrate it this year, not scared that I'm growing old but marking this day as special and throwing a party sounds a bit silly now.I think its only on our birthday, we realise how many friends we have, when they convey their wishes and especially when they ask for treat. I was overwhelmed by the fact that I have lots of friends and I owe most of them a treat for my birthday and also for becoming an aunt. I can celebrate for being blessed by a cute niece. Thats the best gift I've got for my birthday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-111045029676817603?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/111045029676817603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=111045029676817603&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111045029676817603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/111045029676817603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/03/birthday-bumps.html' title='Birthday Bumps'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110984753224433839</id><published>2005-03-04T18:23:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-02T13:59:14.443+05:30</updated><title type='text'>When Luck Runs Out..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I have noticed this behaviour in young men for past few months, though it cant be generalised. I feel quite a number of guys who are still in early twenties are becoming anxious about still being single. If they are unlucky once or twice the world ends there! Though it is considered cool to flaunt a girlfriend or many, I used to see my friends enjoy their single status. Ok now I must tell why i'm writing all these.Yesterday few of my friends and me met to have dinner together. Purpose, one of 'em was feeling depressed. Agenda, to cheer him up. Action , just chit-chat and have fun.The reason behind his achy-breaky heart is what makes this interesting. Some&lt;em&gt; jyothish&lt;/em&gt; had told him couple of months ago that in the next 58 days he'll meet his dream girl, if not now then never. My poorfool friend has taken this to heart. Yesterday was 57th day and he hasnt met his "girl" yet. So my dejected friend wanted to hang out with his buddies to feel better. Today is the D-day, and can imagine him letting out a sigh sitting in front of his computer, trying to fix a bug which he should have done ages ago, reading all the thread mails and forwards.While some of my friends tried to sympathise with him, all I had to say is, "get a life!!".We are meeting again today to make the "unlucky" one, chirk up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110984753224433839?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110984753224433839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110984753224433839&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110984753224433839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110984753224433839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/03/when-luck-runs-out.html' title='When Luck Runs Out..'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110974631021918811</id><published>2005-03-03T13:10:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-02T13:59:30.830+05:30</updated><title type='text'>bundle of joy</title><content type='html'>Last weekend I had been to mysore, and finally got to hold my new born niece. She is so tiny,pink and cuddly. I cried tears of joy when mom placed her on my lap, it was pure bliss .It was wonderful to watch her smile with dimples on her cheeks, make cute expressions on her face and cry only when she is hungry. And she is wrapped up in pink diapers, clothes and pink blankets,lovely sight to see. It was overwhelming to see purest form of love between the mother and her daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I salute women's strength and endurance.I'm not just saying this because I'm one too. Women are classified as weak beings, coz we cry for petty reasons, get emotional for everything and some of us are not strong enough to be leaders in male dominated society, but to bear a child in her for nine months, and bringing it to this world enduring pain thats beyond comprehension unless one feels it, is what makes a woman great. And it doesnt end here, taking care of the baby 24/7, staying awake at nights, feeding and cleaning. After being in labor for more than a day my sister still had the composure to smile at the visitors and had the strength to walk! which made me admire and respect her even more than I did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110974631021918811?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110974631021918811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110974631021918811&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110974631021918811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110974631021918811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/03/bundle-of-joy.html' title='bundle of joy'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110916541120926447</id><published>2005-02-24T19:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-02T14:00:13.456+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Stupid mistake</title><content type='html'>I have commited the most stupid mistake of my life yet. Knew I was never a very intelligent human being when it comes to taking decisions , but I could be such a pudden head ? thats new discovery about myself.Well, as the saying goes, 'what goes around,comes around'. This mistake taught me a very valuable lesson.It made me taste my own medicine. Now I really know how a person would feel when faced with situation like the one I did.Guess I'm not lucky in everything and I'l be more cautious now.I have made dumb things before,so like always I'l laugh at this too and get on with my life but never forgetting what was learnt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110916541120926447?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110916541120926447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110916541120926447&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110916541120926447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110916541120926447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/02/stupid-mistake.html' title='Stupid mistake'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110870814862845002</id><published>2005-02-19T12:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-02T14:01:39.900+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Theme song</title><content type='html'>I have this song always stuck in my head.Its my theme song..theme for my life. At first when I came to know that few people have theme songs,I thought it was silly.But now I have got addicted to this.I sing it when I am happy, sad or just feeling low.Sometimes I sing it loud or tap my fingers only to get weird stares from people around me.It really helps to feel good about myself.I now often sing it in my head when I walk to office in the morning and I'm lot more cheerful to face the day ahead. Here is excerpt from it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I've been down.. this road&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;walking along ...swallowing my pride &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;and I have made mistakes in my life&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;that I...just cant hide&lt;br /&gt;oh I believe i'm ready..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;to what world has got for me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;got myself together.. now I'm ready to sing&lt;br /&gt;I've been searhing for my soul tonight &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;got so much to see in life &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;and got to shine a light&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;and find my way back home...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so, the reader has any?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110870814862845002?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110870814862845002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110870814862845002&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110870814862845002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110870814862845002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/02/theme-song.html' title='Theme song'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110844468229317261</id><published>2005-02-15T12:20:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-02-15T10:48:02.296+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A friend..a gentleman</title><content type='html'>I asked a friend of mine to accompany me for shopping on saturday.He is the only guy I know who says "I love shopping"!So he didnt complain even a little bit. I was a bit apprehensive about the whole idea coz he is not a very close friend of mine. I have met few guys who have mistook my intentions of being very friendly, and they end up asking me out.He helped me buy clothes, he knew lot of details regarding women clothing [like what size fits me,what color would look good on a girl, if the material is good..etc] i was totally surprised.I saw him enjoy suggesting me what clothes to buy, even forced me to buy a knitwear which he liked a lot .Though i didnt see the necessity to buy one in spring season.He found it hard to believe that i had selected all that i needed to buy in less than a hour.I am really impressed by his behaviour. He was decent and well mannered. I feel proud to have gentleman like him as my friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110844468229317261?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110844468229317261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110844468229317261&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110844468229317261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110844468229317261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/02/frienda-gentleman.html' title='A friend..a gentleman'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110819598082671059</id><published>2005-02-13T16:24:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-02T14:02:38.033+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Reborn again!</title><content type='html'>I am so happy that i feel like jumping and screaming [ did that on my bed actually ] Something i thought i have lost has been given back to me. Friendship is what i value most in my life and when i felt i'm losing my best friend, I was shattered..it was like a slow poison ..&lt;em&gt;killing me&lt;/em&gt;. This friend of mine was so precious to me. And amidst all this another good friend of mine put me through it all over again, this time I cursed my fate.I lost my faith in pure friendship and swore that i'm not going to have any more friends. My new friend was quick to realise that i was hurting and he was so caring that he promised to be there whenever i need him. He gave me the strength to face the situation i had with my best friend. We were able to rebuild our friendship again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110819598082671059?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110819598082671059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110819598082671059&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110819598082671059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110819598082671059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/02/reborn-again.html' title='Reborn again!'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110776182481414475</id><published>2005-02-06T12:45:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-02-07T14:53:32.353+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Stung by music</title><content type='html'>I'm not a fan of STING, an English pop artist(Dont even know his real name ) but on friday i had been to his live concert. I wasnt too sure i wanted to go, but my Brother-in-law insisted i must accompany him and his friend.This surprised me coz my BIL is an avid fan of metal music. We arrived at the venue a little early so stood very close to the stage(and too close to the loud speakers too...that expains my headache the next day).Then after a delay of 1 hour,Sting finally arrived on stage, dressed like a true englishman.He performed most of his hits...i knew only few, which i like,but his fans were singing along, jumping and screaming.My BIL's friend, who loves Sting, kept pushing her way into the crowd. The crowd was pretty decent and well behaved.And I must say,he has a golden voice.An artist who knows what music is...has great depth in his voice.The show ended two hours later.This was the first music concert i have attended.Overall a good experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110776182481414475?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110776182481414475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110776182481414475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/02/stung-by-music.html' title='Stung by music'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110725883224729761</id><published>2005-02-02T18:55:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-05-02T14:05:37.160+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The great escape!</title><content type='html'>This was one of the bravest stunt i have pulled off during my college days,of course with some help from my friends.On new year's eve, friends from my PU college had a pyjama party.All the girls danced and stuffed ourselves with junk food till we felt sick..and finally settled on the floor.We remembered this incidence and all of us burst into laughter and patted one another's back for being successful at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This happened on the eve of our college's cultural fest.Our group, 'blossoms' as we proudly call it,had to perform a dance for the event...and it was time for the final rehersal.But Mr.MRK, our chemistry lecturer was conducting a special class,(after hours) and not in favor of the event, he would not let us go.And six of us had to come up with something to get out.So this was the plan. I dropped my head on the desk and moaned,my neighbor(partner in crime) yelled out to the lecturer and said I was sick,he came to my seat, i had to put up an act(its very difficult to fool this man) and luckily he was convinced,so he asked my friend to take me home.While we were about to leave,my friend said she needs one more person to ride the bike, coz she didnt have one.Without even doubting the fact that three would be riding a single bike,he gave permission to another.So three down,three more to go.One of them slipped out when he turned towards the board.We bribed an attendant to pretend to call the remaining two to the principal's office."These girls are in trouble again,silly girls" is what they overheard him muttering.BOOM!! everyone out!Few minutes later he realised that the notorious gang of SDM had escaped from his class!Later my classmates told us that he was furious! He had clenched his fist and yelled..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the fest I was summoned at the principal's office coz I was the class representative. But since we had put up such a great show at the fest, our 'bol bhatta' just smiled and excused us with a warning not to repeat it. But sad we were'nt in the college for the next year's fest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110725883224729761?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110725883224729761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110725883224729761&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110725883224729761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110725883224729761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/02/great-escape.html' title='The great escape!'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110604984988929803</id><published>2005-01-19T08:18:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-01-18T18:03:41.540+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Me(n)tal bliss!</title><content type='html'>This is about my ride back to Bangalore on sunday. My friends decided to travel by bus, I hate that. I was cribbing about it,just then my BIL,who was supposed to leave the next morning decided to leave sunday afternoon coz he had to finalize a business deal that evening. He asked me to come along,I cant thank him enough for it! We got in the car and zoomed towards Bangalore.&lt;br /&gt;So... Megadeth's greatest hits+ Metallica's greatest hits+Garage hits+superb car stereo+gr8 coffee at the coffee day near bidadi+ an OK road, part of the road is really good=one of the best journeys of my life :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110604984988929803?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110604984988929803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110604984988929803&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110604984988929803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110604984988929803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/01/mental-bliss.html' title='Me(n)tal bliss!'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110543224040440959</id><published>2005-01-11T14:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-01-12T11:33:39.496+05:30</updated><title type='text'>imbroglio....</title><content type='html'>I am in such a confused state of mind this week, if this continues i will definitely become demented. Cant write about it too.. I cant even talk about this with my closest friend coz that person is one of the accused. Its a general notion that women are complex in nature, but i say men make life complicated for them! atleast to a certain extent. Dont like to write much about this now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110543224040440959?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110543224040440959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110543224040440959&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110543224040440959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110543224040440959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/01/imbroglio.html' title='imbroglio....'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110484716471892410</id><published>2005-01-04T19:20:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-01-04T19:29:24.720+05:30</updated><title type='text'>new year resolution...</title><content type='html'>I think i'm little talkative... my new friends dont see this quality in me,i wonder why. But friends who have known me for years will know what i'm talking about. I sometimes blabber utter nonsense. So i thought of making a resolution this time (dont remember having any). I am trying to talk less and believe me, its hard.&lt;br /&gt;I am so tempted to open my mouth for every discussion that happens around me! i shut my mouth but all these thoughts and words i intended to say echo in my mind. I dont know if i can stick to this one for long, but i am definetly giving it my best shot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110484716471892410?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110484716471892410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110484716471892410&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110484716471892410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110484716471892410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2005/01/new-year-resolution.html' title='new year resolution...'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110416981729422093</id><published>2004-12-27T23:10:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2004-12-27T23:28:42.703+05:30</updated><title type='text'>my father and me...</title><content type='html'>Today was a special day for me.A day for father daughter bonding . At first me and my dad just went out together to meet our auditor.We had to discuss some IT related issues. It was a 20 minutes drive and our car, a basic model of Maruti 800, is fitted with no extra gadgets,obviously no stereo too.So i started to hum, and strangely it was tune from a very famous song of a kannada movie. To my surprise my dad starting singing it! After that, his smile turned into a chukle and later we both laughed. Few minutes later i popped a mint into my mouth and offered him one too. This is the one with a hole and we remembered the advertisement of this brand,where a boy tries to whistle thru' the hole, so we both tried it too! and in no time we both were whistling away to glory like kids. After the visit, on our way back, I was behind the wheels and my dad tought me few new tricks in driving (which i think wont use 'em again). We both returned home happy and cheerful, my mother seemed surprised coz the whole day my father was in a bad mood.It had been so long my father and I had spent some quality time with together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110416981729422093?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110416981729422093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110416981729422093&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110416981729422093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110416981729422093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2004/12/my-father-and-me.html' title='my father and me...'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110353201748170156</id><published>2004-12-20T14:40:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2004-12-20T14:11:37.940+05:30</updated><title type='text'>New life...</title><content type='html'>I have almost adjusted myself to changes that have happened since i settled in Bangalore.. I feel things are very different in this city compared to my home town. I was not comfortable leading an independent life here at the beginning, doing all the household chores, even washing my clothes everyday! But its better than sharing a room with a stranger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last saturday i did shopping all by myself...felt strange but was a nice experience. Economic independence has made me happy,was able to afford good gifts for my family.Though i'll be staying in this city for days to come...I have left my heart back in mysore :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110353201748170156?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110353201748170156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110353201748170156&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110353201748170156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110353201748170156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2004/12/new-life.html' title='New life...'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110308312114548874</id><published>2004-12-15T09:15:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2004-12-15T09:28:41.146+05:30</updated><title type='text'>These days...</title><content type='html'>Last two days have been really boring....i'm in office for almost 12 hours!All i've been doing is testing,though interesting,testing work for more than 2 weeks is a real downer. I come early in the morning to check my e-mails but cant go home early coz my room is almost a prison cell...i have nothing to do to pass time.All i can do is play the damn radio and read a novel, which i'm forced to as i dont have any other. Got to think of ways to spend my spare time in useful and creative ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110308312114548874?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110308312114548874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110308312114548874&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110308312114548874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110308312114548874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2004/12/these-days.html' title='These days...'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110239345061895240</id><published>2004-12-07T08:53:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2004-12-07T09:54:10.616+05:30</updated><title type='text'>House away from home</title><content type='html'>I moved into my new place (actually a 2 decade old apartment....as a PG)..feels weird a little coz i have to live alone.... away from family...yesterday i arranged all the things...took me 3 rickshaw trips to get my stuff :D  I'm living with an old lady, she talks a lot...mostly blabbering the same words repeatedly....but its OK with me, she is a good woman...old ppl might be irritating but one should learn to adjust...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only source of entertainment in my house is a small radio which plays shrill music of two radio stations.... i keep switching the stations often.Yesterday was my first stay...it was a cold and lonely night ! :D .......today morning i had to wake up early wash the bathroom........(i'm very particular abt clean bathrooms....and personal hygiene)...wash my clothes....tidy up the place...have breakfast in a hotel.......and then office....phew!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110239345061895240?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110239345061895240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110239345061895240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2004/12/house-away-from-home.html' title='House away from home'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110199024648003618</id><published>2004-12-02T17:53:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2004-12-02T17:58:19.173+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Life's Like That......</title><content type='html'>Yesterday i experienced one of the most funniest moments of my life ;)my sis and i were packing up all the stuff at her home coz she was shifting.All the clothes were dumped on the sofa in the living room.Late in the evening (arnd 9 30 pm)my BIL's friend dropped in to say hi(without any notice).......i opened the door (not expecting a guest) and i was startled. The house was in a mess, since my sis and bil were busy i picked up the entire pile of clothes(it was HUGE!) and tried to shift it to the nearest bedroom (meanwhile this friend of my bil's was watching my plight and didnt offer to help). After dumping it on the bed i came back and to my astonishment i saw all the underwears had fallen on the floor (like the story of thumbalina....but here it was not breadcrumbs ;)....).I sheepishly smiled at the surprised guest and picked it all up( the guest was trying to act as if he didnt see anything....and trying hard to control his laugh)I escaped into my room and didnt come out till he left :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110199024648003618?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110199024648003618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110199024648003618&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110199024648003618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110199024648003618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2004/12/lifes-like-that.html' title='Life&apos;s Like That......'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110173562569794009</id><published>2004-11-29T19:07:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2004-11-30T17:09:43.063+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Mera Parivaar</title><content type='html'>I have a strange family crazy to a certain extent.i could have an entire blog dedicated to each family member of mine.My dad, well...you have to be think twice before you strike a conversation with him.he might ask you enough questions to make you go bonkers!!there is this one incidence i remember vividly...My dad and I were getting my scooty repaired at the garage, my dad irritated the mechanic to an extent were he(mechanic) could not take it any longer and he asked my dad to wait in the reception till the repair is done or he will send the bike for pounding!One thing i like about him the most is that he never complains about my dressing sense(I've seen lot of fathers crib about their daughters' clothes)if i wear any dress that might be stylish or little glamorous, he just takes a look at me and says 'Smart!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is the coolest.she rocks (sometimes dances too!)to the tunes of Def Leppard, Pearl Jam,Cure etc.,She identifies most of the rock and boy bands.westlife is one of her favorites.She is a loyal fan of ABBA.She is my english,hindi to kannada dictionary.she has good knowledge about kannada literature. i call her junior Ambedkar, coz if she starts reading anything( i mean anything, even the soiled paper wrap used for groceries) she forgets the rest of the world. Every morning we try to hide the newspaper,especially weekly magazines to makesure that we are served breakfast.She is short tempered. I believe she is the cutest mom on earth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one great quality of my parents is that they have great faith and trust in their children.they crib about late nights and hanging out with boys(i have friends of the oppisite sex at a higher ratio ;-) )but they believe that their children will never misuse the freedom that they have given.No one dares to question my parents' upbringing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister is the laziest of all! She has amazing tolerance and patience.But if she loses her temper, oh my gosh! she screams so loud, our neighbors can experience mild tremors!!Unlike me, she is soft spoken (most of the times),a little introvert.But she has been a true friend of mine. she is my diary.she provides emotional support to all of us.I can open up to her with ease.She (like my dad) trusts people easily,and has been betrayed by her own friends numerous times.since she is a bit plump,she tries to excersise, but one day if she does workout,the next dayshe'll eat and sleep like there is no tomorrow.She is going to be a mother soon :) i cant wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact we were a bit anxious when my sis got married. we thought in-laws would find us strangebut soon found out that they were of the same species!! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110173562569794009?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110173562569794009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110173562569794009&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110173562569794009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110173562569794009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2004/11/mera-parivaar.html' title='Mera Parivaar'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110060600298528288</id><published>2004-11-16T17:02:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2004-11-17T18:20:04.453+05:30</updated><title type='text'>FAT ChaNcE</title><content type='html'>This world is divided into two. The Thin world and Fat world. I live close to the LOC, inside  the latter's territory. My friends (few of them) always considered me a fatso. It never bugged me before, but lately every time we meet atleast a comment about me is passed and suprisingly I get irritated. It never bothers me if my friends are short, fat or average in their looks. I've even bluntly replied that anyone having problem with me being overweight can GTH!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Society today  has become very superficial in its thinking. So maybe in near future people not having the 'trim' body or without above average appearance wont stand a fair chance to have good friends. But then, who needs such friends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110060600298528288?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110060600298528288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110060600298528288&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110060600298528288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110060600298528288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2004/11/fat-chance.html' title='FAT ChaNcE'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155671.post-110045943875081904</id><published>2004-11-14T14:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2004-11-17T15:24:21.286+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My first ....</title><content type='html'>i usually shy away from sharing my thoughts, but i thought lets do it for a change. hope to have an interesting blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9155671-110045943875081904?l=deepthis.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/feeds/110045943875081904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9155671&amp;postID=110045943875081904&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110045943875081904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9155671/posts/default/110045943875081904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://deepthis.blogspot.com/2004/11/my-first.html' title='My first ....'/><author><name>Blossom</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y171/deepthis/dexter-dexdee10.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
