<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995</id><updated>2009-10-13T12:39:40.388-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Speaking the thousand words..</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>74</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-8648120218521318882</id><published>2009-07-29T09:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T09:25:51.385-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The poll (again)</title><content type='html'>So, aparently the poll on my blog (it's on the left - a little down) closed sometime back, can the winner was Calvin and Hobbes. So, what else is new? Calvin ROCKS! Anyway, in celebration, here's one of my favorites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YMG7b7vkOVk/SnB32ECrGhI/AAAAAAAAA7M/6kFJUb5-gNs/s1600-h/Newton.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 127px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YMG7b7vkOVk/SnB32ECrGhI/AAAAAAAAA7M/6kFJUb5-gNs/s400/Newton.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363918926879857170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, new poll will be up soon. As soon as I figure out another fun topic to take a poll on. Any suggestions?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-8648120218521318882?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/8648120218521318882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=8648120218521318882' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/8648120218521318882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/8648120218521318882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/07/poll-again.html' title='The poll (again)'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_YMG7b7vkOVk/SnB32ECrGhI/AAAAAAAAA7M/6kFJUb5-gNs/s72-c/Newton.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-4954150172715993293</id><published>2009-07-21T03:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T04:52:44.749-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We are the Curies, powerful race!</title><content type='html'>Remember when you were in school, split into 5 (some schools had four) different houses. Remember how your activities revolved around your house - your favorite colour was (and in some cases, still is) your house colour (I have a senior who apparently colour coded her whole wedding to be green - green invites, green decor, green sari, etc.. - just because she was in the green house!), there was no one cooler than your house captain and prefect, winning the sports/dramatics cup was all that mattered!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my school, the houses were named after famous women. I was in the Marie Curie house (I was a 'Curie', how cool is that?). We had, of course a house colour, a house slogan, a flag, a banner - you name it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The slogan was a funny one. It went:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Alpha, Beta, Gamma Rays&lt;br /&gt;We are the Curies, powerful race"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How cool is that? Of course, i didn't really understand what it meant or the connection till I was in High school, but now that I think about it, whoever framed it was a genius!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what is the point of this whole post?&lt;br /&gt;Why, none as usual. DJ and I were talking about our schools yesterday, and turns out that everyone identifies people with their house. As in "Do you remember so-and-so? She was in Kellers(the red house - named after Helen Keller, of course!)". And the house(colour/name/symbol) always holds a special place!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I just thought I'll post about it since it's been long since I posted!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-4954150172715993293?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/4954150172715993293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=4954150172715993293' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/4954150172715993293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/4954150172715993293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/07/we-are-curies-powerful-race.html' title='We are the Curies, powerful race!'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-7729225592360447754</id><published>2009-07-03T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T10:06:52.302-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Talking of Garden City..</title><content type='html'>Is it just me, or is Chennai really going green? There is a garden/park in every spare bit of land in the city. There is even a garden tucked into the Gemini flyover!! And Hadder's road has it's own petite garden - right next to the Oxford bookstore. And the garden at the end of Cenetoph's road - that's pretty too - overlooking the river and all. And as Mutt put it - Tiru.V.Ka park looks like a fairy land if you drive past it in the evening!! Do try to drive past it - even if you live on the other end of the city - it's totally worth it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And apparently there is this huge 17 acre park coming up somewhere near the beach. And they're going to convert Woodlands drive in into a botanical garden as well!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to mention the roads - GST as well as the first part of OMR are now a sight to behold! (I'm not gonna mention ECR, because the pretty parts start only after you leave Chennai). Oh and the tambaram bypass too - though, again, I dunno if you can call it Chennai! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know we have miles to go, but not a bad start, eh? I'm so proud of our corporation. I mean, yeah, they do stupid things like put a flyover in Cenetoph's road (seriously, what's with that?!) and Sardar Patel road(which noone uses!), but then they also build something like the Kathipara junction (which I'm totally in love with, btw).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, it's singara chennai yet again! :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-7729225592360447754?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/7729225592360447754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=7729225592360447754' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/7729225592360447754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/7729225592360447754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/07/talking-of-garden-city.html' title='Talking of Garden City..'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-78193530802275062</id><published>2009-06-24T01:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T01:49:08.422-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A city I once loved..</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time, when it was called Bangalore, this city had wide roads lined up with beautiful, giant, green trees. The trees used to be so thick that they used to block the sunlight to a large extent. The roads were wide - or maybe they appeared wide to a 10 yr old me, and the traffic used to be so little that they used to allow us to run across the road. The weather so cool, that fan used to considered a luxury - used by the rich during two weeks in the summer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time, you could go from one end of the city to the other end in less than an hour, and MG Road meant lots and lots of bookstores.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time, we used to catch a double decker bus and sit on top and ride all the way to Majestic every time we wanted to 'go shopping'. There wasn't a mall every ten yards then, see?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time, my mental images of Bangalore used to be covered with green trees and mist - lots of mist. Actual mist - not smog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time, Bangalore used to be called "the garden city".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took us two and a half hours to drive from Mysore to the edge of Bangalore (Mysore road) and another two to drive from there to Koramangla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all I'm saying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-78193530802275062?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/78193530802275062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=78193530802275062' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/78193530802275062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/78193530802275062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/06/city-i-once-loved.html' title='A city I once loved..'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-5700208781137771453</id><published>2009-06-09T02:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T03:22:28.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hierarchy</title><content type='html'>I have long been reproached/teased/mocked/looked-at-curiously/made-fun-of/etc.. fr claiming to have 18 best friends. (Yup, the count is out, and the number is 18.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall give you a few examples:-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a)My testimonials in orkut - Almost all of them mention this fact.&lt;br /&gt;b)I've always wanted a small wedding (I know, I know - too much Hollywood), but my mom wants a biggg one. So my sister, tells my mom "Don't worry, there is no way it will be small. She will have to invite all her best-friends, remember?". Yeah. Humph. We'll see. x-(&lt;br /&gt;c)My RG proclaims "She will wake up before 11 in the morning during weekends only if she has a date with one of her 716 best friends" :-P&lt;br /&gt;d)Every time I mention someone - &lt;em&gt;any&lt;/em&gt;one, Mutt demands if that person is a best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course there are many more.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for once and I've decided to quell all doubts and explain to all and sundry the hierarchy. I've even drawn out a picture. Look:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YMG7b7vkOVk/Si4vSnlIdeI/AAAAAAAAA5s/nQCWCVaky6I/s1600-h/hierarchy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 285px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YMG7b7vkOVk/Si4vSnlIdeI/AAAAAAAAA5s/nQCWCVaky6I/s400/hierarchy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345261804644234722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, like I've shown, you can have only one bestest friend. Mine, is Samie. Why you ask? Well, she is a sweetheart and we did have the pact (I know I broke it, but still..). Also she's the only one who, like me, is enthu for everything under the sun and has a gadzillion best friends. More than me, believe it or not.. Also, she's the only one who doesn't have another bestest friend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All my other best friends do.. Like Chicken has De (yeah, gurl, you do. She is you bestest and you can't escape that)(and vice-versa), Kosu has R, Mr.A has Joe, MM has Pumpkin(I tell you, it's an exclusive spot), Mutt and Kitty have each other, Assie has Vasu, Sug had A and Mads has B, The girl, RG and Pipe have gotta work it out amongst themselves, and Tea has Ash, Blue angel has that girl whose name I forgot (sorry! :-( ), the Sista has well.. i dunno a million people other than me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See? This is what I mean. If you ask any(or at least most) of these people, they will tell you that I am indeed a best-friend of theirs. Even those idiots who tease me mercilessly. Yet, they all have a significantly closer best friend. Who becomes the bestest. And the rest remain in "best".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, anyway, for the newcomers, let me explain the terms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.Bestest friend: The person whose house is your second home. Whose parents know your favorite dish and who you tell (or can tell) everything to! Who will fly down from the other end of the world if you need them to(Hear that, Samie?). Who completely understands why you're doing what you're doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.Best friend: Much like the bestest friend, but not quite. Their house need not be a second home necessarily, but more often than not, that is the case. They will also be willing to do the flying down in case of emergency thing, but you don't need 20 people with you during an emergency, so you ask most of them to stay put. They are people who you can call in the middle of the night if you're feeling miserable, wake them up and crib till dawn (Indeed, that has been done to all many times)- even if they have an exam/presentation the next day(this has also been done. They know what you are up to currently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.Good friends: These people are usually people you were very close to for a short (short can be up to 2 years!) while - maybe over a project, or a course together. Maybe you stayed together in the same hostel, or were roommates at some point or the other. For that short period, you knew each other very well, but over time, you've kinda lost touch. Yet, those events bound you together so hard, than even years apart, you can still call them and ask them a favour without any qualms. These are people who actually do know you and your family. Your mom will recognize the on the road even when you're not around. They will drop by when they are in the neighbourhood without fail and more often than they know your food preferences and your many ailments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Friends: This is every single person you can ever count on. Who you can relate to in someway or the other and who you can call without having an excuse to do so. Most of your old classmates who you played with on the swing, your current one whose notes you borrowed come under this category. These are people who you're happy to meet on the road, and if you do, you'll ask them to have a cup of coffee with you. These are people whose numbers are there on your phone and email IDs are there on your Gmail contact book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Acquaintances: Like I said, this is practically everyone who you have ever met who remembers you and who you remember. If you have a reason to call them, and do so, they should be able to recognize you the minute you introduce yourself. This is a HUGE list because it includes almost all your classmates from every school/college you attended and friends of friends you hung out with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said all that, let me conclude that there is no hard and fast rule which divides the classes and this is just the definition I give.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disclaimer: This post was put up in a state of extreme joblessness and in order to clarify a few doubts friends of the author had.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-5700208781137771453?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/5700208781137771453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=5700208781137771453' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/5700208781137771453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/5700208781137771453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/06/hierarchy.html' title='The Hierarchy'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_YMG7b7vkOVk/Si4vSnlIdeI/AAAAAAAAA5s/nQCWCVaky6I/s72-c/hierarchy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-5097340345160232837</id><published>2009-05-31T01:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T03:40:20.404-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The 'M' word</title><content type='html'>Since I am nearly [insert age + 1], the extended family has started mentioning the M word to ze parents. My parents, who were initially taken aback (my dad especially  - he was quite at loss as to what to do), have learnt how to deal with the.. er.. proposals, thankfully and bug me no more with funny anecdotes which they think are cute but I think are just plain irritating..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like the one where my uncle, who was woken up from his sleep, forgot my existance and claimed there was no such girl.. Okay, that one was actually funny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the other one, where a certain grandaunt said something to the effect of "I'll find you a really good guy who will let you study further.. don't worry". Hang on there.. &lt;em&gt;let&lt;/em&gt; me??? &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;LET&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; me? Whoa! Boy, do these people not know me at all!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and not to forget the "if you study so much, how are we gonna find a guy who's stuided as much"!! Sheesh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, that's what really strikes me. How little these people (not my parents and their siblings - they thankfully suffer under no such illusion) know me, yet suffer under the impression that they do. They think I'm a CSIG (I am, btw.. at least according to the Mutt) who will listen to her parents, get married at [insert age], to a guy in the same caste who they pick out for me - probably some 2nd or 3rd cousin, and I will actually listen to what the guy will tell me to do, suffer under the whole "kal aanalum purushan" thing, and have two kids as the age of 25, etc...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the worst part is, I do not know what I can say to make them understand that the world has evovled very much since they were kids and that is not how people do stuff anymore. I mean, I can be a lesbian and they wouldn't even understand what that means. They'll probably think it's 'a phase'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny actually. And quite sad too. Funny because, lets face it, people stuck in the past are funny. Sad - because people stuck in the past means there will be no progress..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-5097340345160232837?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/5097340345160232837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=5097340345160232837' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/5097340345160232837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/5097340345160232837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/05/m-word.html' title='The &apos;M&apos; word'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-5755075103111081183</id><published>2009-05-24T02:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-24T02:24:52.121-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Keerai</title><content type='html'>My words of great wisdom for the day: Parents are like spinach - boring, uncool and distaseful - but very good for your health!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* waves to the cheering crowd * &lt;br /&gt;Thank you. Thank you ver' much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-5755075103111081183?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/5755075103111081183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=5755075103111081183' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/5755075103111081183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/5755075103111081183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/05/keerai.html' title='Keerai'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-6011515498640687934</id><published>2009-05-21T22:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T09:42:27.877-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff I do'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cook-book'/><title type='text'>The 1st supper.</title><content type='html'>I cooked dinner last night. The whole of it. As in chapatti as well as curry. I know what you're thinking, but no, everyone at home is quite alright, thank you very much!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was lesson no.1 in my mom's "teach daughter to be independent as far as food is concerned thingy".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I made this very simple tomato curry thing whose recipe I'm gonna put up here for people who have only 15 mins to prepare themselves a nice meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you cut up some tomatoes in small pieces and some onions - say about one onion and two tomatoes. Two green chillies are also cut up. (if you don't get green chillies, you might wanna use chilly powder. If you like spicy use more. Don't use less than two, it becomes too bland). Cut up some ginger also (again as much as you want for taste. I'd say some 10 small pieces (small being .5 cm sided cubes approx). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, you switch on the frying bowl and put in about 3-4 tea spoons on oil, and wait for 30 seconds. Then, you put in half a tea spoon of mustard and half a tea spoon of black gram dal(ulutham paruppu) and fry for 15-30 seconds. Then add the cut up onion, ginger and chilly and fry till the onion starts developing a tinge of brown. Just a tinge, mind you. And then add some salt. 3/4th - 1 teaspoon. Depends on you, actually.. Then add the tomato and fry for about 5-10 mins and voila, you have your tomato curry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15 mins max. And you can garnish with coriander if you want, but if you're cooking for yourself, I'd say "don't bother". Unless of course you like coriander.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I made chapattis as well. Not that that's new - been doing that since I was 'eah high.. but the mother seemed to have forgotten that. She bought me my own rolling in and rolling board when I was about 5 which she has no recollection of! Which was good in a way. She was all in raptures when she found out I could roll chapattis. Ah, whatever. These mothers, I tell you...!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and tip: Once you roll said chapatti, fry it immediately, else they become dry and hard. At least cover it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, enough cooking lessons for the day. And do not fear, this is not going to be a cooking blog, but since the mother is set on her "my-daughter-independent-blah", a few recipes might pop up every now and then. So be warned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-6011515498640687934?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/6011515498640687934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=6011515498640687934' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/6011515498640687934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/6011515498640687934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/05/1st-supper.html' title='The 1st supper.'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-3210984045381368160</id><published>2009-05-16T13:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T13:19:21.792-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On being followed!</title><content type='html'>Mathika finally taught me how to use a reader today (yes, I needed to be 'taught'), and guess what I found? There are 24 people who subscribe to it! How 'bout that?? 24!! And to think that less than 2 years ago, I actually was &lt;a href="http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2007/07/in-desperation.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; and now I have 24 subscriptions and 5 followers!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone's really come on in life, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the down-side though, it means I get 24 less hits everytime I write a post because those people just read it using a reader and many of them(my sister for starters) are too lazy to comment! x-(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, well!! Still.. 29!! Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new target is 50. So tell one, tell all, people!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-3210984045381368160?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/3210984045381368160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=3210984045381368160' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/3210984045381368160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/3210984045381368160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/05/on-being-followed.html' title='On being followed!'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-496561421545795854</id><published>2009-05-16T03:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T03:30:22.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Red Hot</title><content type='html'>My mom recently commented on how the guy I marry will have a hard time putting up with my temper! Let us at this point take a moment to mourn for him..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* silence *&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But on a serious note, I do find myself getting irritated for the minutest things. It can be anything - like my dad refusing to write down the address and insisting jot it down, Debo rapping hard on my door unnecessarily, my friends fussing about going somewhere, people not calling me back, the politics in the department, someone telling me "you &lt;em&gt;should &lt;/em&gt;know hindi", meaningless debates (like the ones on the blog) where the other person is thick headed and refuses to see reason and goes off in a tangent, my friends proposing on having a drink during a journey (I wasn't even going with them and I still got irritated!), some guy making eyes at me on the bus/train, people not returing my books, people not realising how much trouble I get into for breaking a curfew and treating it frivoulously, people pretending to be know-it-alls, etc..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that most(if not all) these reasons are valid enough, and most people get mad, but I do not think any of them experience a flare of anger rush through them and their heart starts beating fast demanding justice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually either give the look that might kill or ignore them completely. but more often then not, I yell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe BP is my thing. I always thought it would be diabetes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beware of me. I bark.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-496561421545795854?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/496561421545795854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=496561421545795854' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/496561421545795854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/496561421545795854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/05/red-hot.html' title='Red Hot'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-2973499090813632724</id><published>2009-05-07T23:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T00:19:43.765-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IIT'/><title type='text'>On RGness*</title><content type='html'>Is an RG still and RG if he/she doesn't realise he/she is RGing? Just a thought..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* RG is a term used at an insti for people who don't share their notes/assignments/or teach you concepts. They do that because the grading system here is Relative Grading (hence the term RG), so your grades depend on how everyone else performs. So, the worse everyone else performs, the better you perform. So many people don't share ideas, etc.. because they want to get good grades by supressing the others. I think the system sucks, but then again, who am I to judge?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-2973499090813632724?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/2973499090813632724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=2973499090813632724' title='25 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/2973499090813632724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/2973499090813632724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/05/on-rgness.html' title='On RGness*'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>25</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-2104744478503972412</id><published>2009-04-25T11:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T00:20:23.874-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Social standings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Senti'/><title type='text'>Cutting off..</title><content type='html'>Eventhough I'll be 22 soon, the way some of my friends behave, I feel I never left high school! They gossip, they bitch, they get hurt when you don't choose sides, they hold grudges and refuse to let go of them and basically make your life hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think my parents aprove of my feeling so strongly about this, but I hate it when one friend of mine bitches about another. What I hate more is when one of them goes all "Oh, we should &lt;em&gt;so&lt;/em&gt; meet up sometime and catch up - all of us" and doesn't turn up for any party you arrange, even if the party is so scheduled just so it matches their schedule! I hate it when they cite parental permission as a reason for not coming but manage to get around their parents when it comes to meeting their boyfriends/girlfriends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know what else I hate? If they call one of my close friends names and claim he/she(person X) just "uses people" even though I know very well that it is no so and X was the only person there for me through a certain mini crisis when all of them weren't even acknowledging my existance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it that they can be so insensitive about my friends and how I'd like to hear such things about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, Mutt was cribbing about how a friend of hers "cut her off". (You know, doesn't pick up/return calls, emails. Always busy, the works.) And I was all "why would anyone want to do that?". Now I am seriouly considering it. Not that it'll take much effort mind you, considering I'm the one who calls most of the time anyway!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And why am I not doing so? Because they're most of what I have left from a certain period in my life and to let go would mean.. I dunno.. Failure? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: I am writing this in a lot of rage, sorry about that. And if you're wondering about what happens if one of them reads it (because it's pretty obvious who the people are), then my answer is, I'd like it if they did. I wouldn't have any explaining to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-2104744478503972412?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/2104744478503972412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=2104744478503972412' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/2104744478503972412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/2104744478503972412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/04/cutting-off.html' title='Cutting off..'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-3491535431579482309</id><published>2009-04-09T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T12:40:33.470-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Romance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Girl stuff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Boys'/><title type='text'>No more Mr. Nice Guy</title><content type='html'>Chicken Little recently said "Being nice is extremely under-rated and rare. And outdated".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet it a 'nice guy' that every mother wants for her daughter; every sibling for their sister and every person for their friend. A nice guy is what every grandparent blesses their grand kids with and every girl hopes for when she is 10! Then why is it, that the minute she turns 18, she does an about turn and looks for everything except nice in the man she seeks?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Save a handful, I find that I do not approve of the guys my bestfriends/friends/acquaintances are dating. Not because these guys aren't 'well-settled' or good-looking (my friends are pretty wise to those!), but because (I feel) they don't treat these girls the way they should be!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every girl I know, has gone for a guy who is dashing, plays slightly hard to get, is flirty and has 'attitude'. Put 'em together and what have you got? Your mother's nightmare! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These otherwise smart and sucessful young ladies are blind to the fact that these guys are the ones most likely to break their heart and the least likely to help them build the home they dreamt of when they were 10 - which, lets face it, is what every girl still wants!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth being, these nice guys do exist. I have met them, even befriended a few of them. And while doing so, I realise that is highly unlikely that they will ever get the attention of the kind of girls who deserve them simply because they will not take the risk! These boys will probably end up marrying some lucky girl who their mommy picks out for them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is not to say, all hope is lost. Break-throughs have happened in the past and are quite likely to happen again! And if that does happen to you, I paraphrase the second part of what Chicken Little said and advise you: "Hold on to that one."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-3491535431579482309?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/3491535431579482309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=3491535431579482309' title='23 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/3491535431579482309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/3491535431579482309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/04/no-more-mr-nice-guy.html' title='No more Mr. Nice Guy'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>23</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-5140682964273377892</id><published>2009-03-28T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T12:43:44.124-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>The request.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I wonder if any of you have bothered to read what is written on the front page of an Indian passport. Wanting to do &lt;em&gt;anything&lt;/em&gt; other than study for my quiz, I recently flipped it open and this is what it says:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;"These are to request and require in the name of the president of the Republic of India all those whom it may concern to allow the bearer to pass freely without let or hindrance, and toafford him or her, every assistance and protection of which he or she may stand in need."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that sweet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, next time they refuse you a visa, remember, they aren't just refusing you. They're refusing the president's request. (I just realised president means Ms.Patil and there goes my vision of a strong leader heading our republic.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only I didn't know that we are called "Republic of India"! I mean, I knew we were a republic, of course, but I didn't know that was the name of our country. Why are we listed under 'I' then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, does anyone know why all official sentences are so long without much punctuation?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-5140682964273377892?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/5140682964273377892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=5140682964273377892' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/5140682964273377892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/5140682964273377892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/03/request.html' title='The request.'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-8019873139053960294</id><published>2009-03-21T11:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T12:41:19.276-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Senti'/><title type='text'>Note of thanks.</title><content type='html'>Don't you love it when someone calls you up in the middle of the night and tells you you're a great friend, and thanks you for being one?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much as you know you completely don't deserve it, it's in the top ten "best feelings".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-8019873139053960294?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/8019873139053960294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=8019873139053960294' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/8019873139053960294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/8019873139053960294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/03/note-of-thanks.html' title='Note of thanks.'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-3567003505603666566</id><published>2009-03-16T06:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T06:53:58.687-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Madras'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>The great divide.</title><content type='html'>Disclaimer: I am grossly generalising here and I know that each of you can think of thousands of examples countering what I am about to say! Also, thanks to The Girl for the idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chennai, culturally, can be divided into two - the two sides of Mount road. The Tenampet/Poes Garden/Besant Nagar etc.. side(lets call them side A), which are more westernized than the Nungambakkam/Egmore/T Nagar/Kilpauk side(lets call them side B).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A person from side A would probably take life more casually and adopt a "life life one day at a time" attitude. They would be more open to casual relationships, pre-marital sex and the works. They are way more likely to take an arts/humanties course in college and adopt a variety of hobbies which potray that. They are more westenised in their way of dressing and thinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A person from side B on the other hand are way serious about their life and career choices. They stick to traditional choices such as engineering or science. They prefer long term relationships and dress more conservately (except for the oh-so-occasional night of clubbing). They derive more fun out of hanging out with small groups of friends or being along rather than wild large parties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which isn't weird at all when you thing about it. I know it's still just one city but the people of side A probably schooled together, just like side B did. And if you see the friends you grew up with doing something, you think it's okay for you to do it too and it becomes who you are, if you get my drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it was just a thought and &lt;a href="http://ymitif.blogspot.com/"&gt;Ess&lt;/a&gt; said I should post it, so I am. He also pointed out that people in Kilpauk quite make up for the presence of a certain hospital by being super-serious and thinking many-a-time before they make any decisions - whether it be which college they attend or how much money they spend this weekend. I thought about it and realised that, weirdly, it isn't about schools anymore, because all my friends in school who weren't flighty weren't from Kilpauk!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weirdness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, remember, both side A and side B worship thalaivar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: For those who do not know me or are not from the city and are curious about this fact, I'm from side B.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-3567003505603666566?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/3567003505603666566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=3567003505603666566' title='23 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/3567003505603666566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/3567003505603666566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/03/great-divide.html' title='The great divide.'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>23</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-515447568675321982</id><published>2009-03-05T20:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T20:07:47.706-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IIT'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff I do'/><title type='text'>A Hitchhiker's story</title><content type='html'>It's a two kilometer walk from the main gate to the hostel, so the admin has arranged a (highly irregular) bus/'battery-powered-van' service to shuttle us back and forth. A walk to the main gate takes 20 mins (if you walk fast enough, of course), while most of the time, you'll have to wait half an hour for the bus. So we seldom take the bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, hitch-hiking is pretty common. Esp when it's two hot you have a lot of luggage with you! Having been both the hitch-hiker and the hitch-hikee (if there be such a word), I must say it is very educative. Apart from being able to travel in fancy cars (I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;almost&lt;/span&gt; traveled in a S-class once. Almost.), you also get to meet a lot of very interesting people and learn a lot about not just them, but the insti in general. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, the first time I ever heard about the pan-IIT was when I was given a lift by one of te organisers. And recently, I learnt that about 25 yrs ago there were peacocks and crocodile on the campus!!! Crocodiles - that's right! Another time, we got into a car with loads of kids including a very sweet 5 year old who invited us home and was sad to bid us good bye at the gate!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while giving rides, you meet a number of just-graduated alumni and it is pretty interesting to know what they are doing now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my part, I've informed a number of people about the existence of a M.Sc course in IIT. You'd be shocked at the number of people closely associate with the institute who do not know that. I would be insulted, but I guess I'm used to being a 'matak' by now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: Sorry, couldn't resist the fancy title!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-515447568675321982?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/515447568675321982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=515447568675321982' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/515447568675321982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/515447568675321982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/03/hitchhikers-story.html' title='A Hitchhiker&apos;s story'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-702401922971945001</id><published>2009-02-20T12:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T00:56:37.406-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Senti'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>On friends and labels</title><content type='html'>One fine morning, between two classes, I had 45 mins to kill and so i sat and labelled all my posts. It tells you a lot, this labelling business. It tells you what you spend your time on mostly. Apparently, I spend the least anount of time on lists and romance. Which is a weird thing to say if you know me, but whatever. More romantic lists coming up! :-P Oh, I don't post much on the IPL either, but the 2nd seeason will open soon and then we shalt have more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that is not what this post will be about. This one will once again be dedicated to my friends. So here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: If you are my friend, you're bound to be mentioned. If you can't spot yourself, shame on you! But ping/message/mail/call/scrap/wall/comment and I shall point you out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone, esp the dad, loves pointing out that I have too many friends. Too many "best friends", they say. 'You undermine the meaning of 'best'!', they reproach. What can I do? I love them all equally. I have no way of deciding!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the strange part is, how little they all have in common. If you take a set of all my best/close friends, there wll be at least one person each one of them will not be able to get along with/will not approve of. I guess the only thing they have in common is that they are all judgemental! But then again, who isn't?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have such a huge variety of friends. From the quiet types like Colla, Jen, RaG and RA to the tomboys like jude-the-dude. From the holy God-fearing people like Mopsi, Princess, Assie, Jan to agnostics like RG, MM to atheists like Tequila and Mutt. From geeks like Jij, MV, DC(!!!) to the I-haven't-touched-a-textbook-to-save-my-life like The girl, Row and Chai. From dancers like Jan, Shiny, Aru to singers like SC and well, most of the others! From the I-am-too-lazy-to-leave-my-room such as Mutt, Colla and De to enthu-for-anything like Samie, Muds, Kitty, Tequila and RG. From supremely helpful bordering on doormatedness like MM, Pumpkin, Assie, San to bossiness personified a la Mutt, Mopsi and CL. From the burka sporting CL and De to the mini-skirt sporting (that sentence sounds weird) Rad and Tequila. From friends who have made me feel like, well, a princess (no, I haven't forgotten) at a moment's notice like Pipe, The girl, MM, Chai to people who have made me cry(yes, they are still my close friends - ask me not why!) like CC, Cheapskate. From the tech-savy Arjie and Chai to the girl who asks me to configure her nokia settings - Sony. From the deathmetal addicts like Arjie and the The girl to Carnatic music fans like Assie, SC to hip-hop fans like Kitty(my love) to sad-80's hindustani music fans like Mutt, SC, Colla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this, my dears, is just the non-incriminating tip of the iceberg! There is loads hidden below the surface.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But none of it matters. Because I love them all (almost) the same. And I see no reason why people should have difficulty believing that!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-702401922971945001?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/702401922971945001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=702401922971945001' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/702401922971945001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/702401922971945001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/02/on-friends-and-labels.html' title='On friends and labels'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-2095642178270906743</id><published>2009-01-27T07:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T22:17:40.976-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Girl stuff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Social standings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Musings'/><title type='text'>Bigger picture, people! Please.</title><content type='html'>The recent incident in Mangalore left us all shocked, but I fail to understand why, really. We should've seen it coming and we deserved this in more ways than one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are all busy cribbing about how this is not democracy anymore and we should have the freedom to do what we want to and how it could've been any of us! &lt;em&gt;That &lt;/em&gt;is exactly why we are concerned, you see! Those guys didn't have to pick Mangalore, they could've picked a pub in Chennai (yeah, right!) when my friends and I are hanging out there. They could've picked a pub in B'lore when my sister's hanging out there. This is something which affects us - the upper middle class - directly, which is why there is so much publicity over it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The journalists - they frequent pubs too; Or their friends/girlfriends/wives/daughters/sisters do! And it scares them to think that they kit and kin could be subjected to such a thing! Hence they make sure it's brought to limelight and pester the CM about it and urge the people to rise in action, etc.. Basically, they're scared. And the pub owners(influential people, all of them) are scared as well. What if the women stop coming? What if ladies nights don't happen anymore. How exactly are they gonna manage the ratio?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The act itself is something which should be condemned, no doubt, but don't you see? The Ram Sena people were just the stupider of the lot. They picked the wrong people to mess with! If they had tortured some poor villagers in some remote part of the country, they wouldn't have gotten more than 5 seconds of T.V time and their acts would've gone unnoticed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I said, we deserved this, since we failed to notice the girls who are not allowed to go to school in J&amp;K (they will be killed, no less), and were busy worrying about not being able to go to a pub! We compromised on the rights of those not fortunate enough to be born to parents rich enough or living in the right cities, and in a way told these guys, 'go ahead, we won't stop you yet..' and now we pay for it, albeit meagerly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure the Karnataka police can lock up 10 people and claim they've 'taken action' against them, but we aren't really a free democratic country until &lt;em&gt;everyone &lt;/em&gt;is able to practice their right!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-2095642178270906743?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/2095642178270906743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=2095642178270906743' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/2095642178270906743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/2095642178270906743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/01/bigger-picture-people-please.html' title='Bigger picture, people! Please.'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-6995560627300730555</id><published>2009-01-25T10:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T21:49:29.395-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fun stuff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff I do'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>Wordle</title><content type='html'>I made myself one. Loooooook:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.wordle.net/gallery/wrdl/472335/My_world" title="Wordle: My world"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.wordle.net/thumb/wrdl/472335/My_world" alt="Wordle: My world" style="padding:4px;border:1px solid #ddd"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want one, go to wordle.com. It's pretty neat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-6995560627300730555?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/6995560627300730555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=6995560627300730555' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/6995560627300730555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/6995560627300730555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/01/wordle.html' title='Wordle'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-6523573711076676562</id><published>2009-01-01T21:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T22:21:07.183-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MCC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Growing pains'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Senti'/><title type='text'>The real bite of nostalgia</title><content type='html'>I was going though the folders on the pc at home and I found "The Making of Woodstock". Pipe put his foot down and said we weren't gonna print that. Too degrading or some such thing. But I wonder why. I mean who wouldn't wanna be part of that mad maaaad world? It was fun while it lasted. But it was more than that. It's one of those few things I really do (did?) miss about MCC. Pipe goading us on; Roshan's wisecracks during our 3 hr meetings (which consisted of 5 mins of deciding what the next issue was gona contain and 2 hrs and 55 mins of the aforementioned wise-cracks); Sande's "I'll take care of it"s; Danny pretending to know it all- Danny suprising us by &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; knowing it all! Vasudha's writing.. Plus that was where I met three of my closest friends..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who wonder about the nostalgia, I present to you, for the first time, "The Making of Woodstock". May Pipe burn in hell! It's my blog and I write what I want!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Making of Woodstock&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We aren’t saying it isn’t fun. We aren’t saying it is hard work. We aren’t saying that we don’t enjoy it. All we are saying is.. Well, read on and you’ll understand what we went through before we brought out this issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all started on Jan 3rd when we came back after spending 12 days sleeping and eating - and sleeping some more. Realisation dawned upon us that the January issue of Woodstock was due. Someone mildly suggested that we get started immediately, but it was immediately quashed down by cries from the geekier of us claiming that we’ll do it after the CAs – no problemo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the CAs came and went (and left us none the happier for it). It was Saturday the 12th and we decided we’ll get started. An online meet was scheduled for nine p.m. At nine, I logged in to find no one there.. Frantic messaging gave me to understand that out of the remaining 5, one was in Hyderabad, one was out for dinner, one was practicing.. something, one was fast asleep, and the last one was, shall I say.. at a different level of thinking. With a sigh, we resheduled it for the same time, next night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now anybody who knows the woodstock team would not be surprised that the online meet scheduled for 9 started infact at 10.30 and went on till past midnight (which got some of us nearly thrown out of our houses, but we will not dwell on minor issues). The topics discussed included serial killings, shilpa shetty, how to apply Gauss’ law using spherical co-ordinates, pongal celebrations, birthday parties, the book fair, the hottest guy/girl in college, etc.. Finally, we decided we’ll send in the articles by Tuesday – do the DTP by Thursday and get the issue scrutinized and out by the next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday night saw one article in the inbox. By Wednesday there were two. By Saturday, the number increased to 4. On Sunday the following message was sent to all&lt;br /&gt;“Dear team member, This sms is regarding the your article for the next issue of woodstock. On checking the mail account, I am saddened to note that it has made it’s appearance yet. Please look into the issue. Thank you. Your’s sincerely, A teammate.”&lt;br /&gt;Reply 1: Don’t worry sweetheart, it’ll be done.&lt;br /&gt;Reply 2: Tonight. Tonight. I’ll send it in positively by midnight.&lt;br /&gt;Reply 3: What’s the hurry?&lt;br /&gt;Reply 4: If I do it.. Will you get me OD?&lt;br /&gt;Sunday night in the inbox – You’ve got (0) new mails.&lt;br /&gt;(to be continued..)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reader will please note that close to 600 rupees worth of talk time, 500 messages, three online conferences – each lasting for approximately 2 hours, 15 online chats – lasting an hour, 5 fights, numerous train rides and sessions in front of Nescafe and endless cups of lemon tea (courtesy the college cafeteria) went into the making of this issue.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-6523573711076676562?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/6523573711076676562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=6523573711076676562' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/6523573711076676562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/6523573711076676562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2009/01/real-bite-of-nostalgia.html' title='The real bite of nostalgia'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-8786678559178649110</id><published>2008-12-25T23:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T21:49:29.395-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fun stuff'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff I do'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>The change</title><content type='html'>You may wonder why i now call this blog "Speaking the thousand words". It's because of my name. You see, my name - it means picture. And you know what a picture does!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in answer to many of your questions, the old name - "Fading dreams grow cold as ice.." is a line from Elton John's "&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHu_IAACVQs"&gt;Return to Paradise&lt;/a&gt;":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's paradise here where the sun meets the sea&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing to fear and so much to be&lt;br /&gt;But soon I must go, say goodbye to it all&lt;br /&gt;That homeland of mine is beginning to call&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye doesn't mean this has to be the end&lt;br /&gt;Fading dreams grow cold as ice&lt;br /&gt;And I got a feeling we will meet again&lt;br /&gt;When we return to paradise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wind in our hair and the sun in our eyes&lt;br /&gt;There's no need for tears and no time for lies&lt;br /&gt;So reach out your hand and I'll reach out my heart&lt;br /&gt;Remember me while we are apart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye doesn't mean this has to be the end&lt;br /&gt;Fading dreams grow cold as ice&lt;br /&gt;And I got a feeling we will meet again&lt;br /&gt;When we return to paradise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm heading homeward&lt;br /&gt;Leaving sunshine and heading for rain&lt;br /&gt;But we'll return to paradise again&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye doesn't mean this has to be the end&lt;br /&gt;Fading dreams grow cold as ice&lt;br /&gt;And I got a feeling we will meet again&lt;br /&gt;When we return to paradise&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/35908995-8786678559178649110?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/8786678559178649110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=8786678559178649110' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/8786678559178649110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/8786678559178649110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2008/12/change.html' title='The change'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-2156849642350038291</id><published>2008-12-23T13:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T21:47:14.196-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Physicsy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>Hold that thought!</title><content type='html'>A friend of mine (who begged to remain anonymous) said to me "when I was in school I decided to take up science - because by doing science you actually contribute to the total amount of human knowledge. With humanities, you don't - maybe to the beauty of the world or whatever, but not to knowledge, and with management, you contribute absolutely nothing!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, all you geeks out there surviving on phdcomics, now you know.. &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/35908995-2156849642350038291?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/2156849642350038291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=2156849642350038291' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/2156849642350038291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/2156849642350038291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2008/12/hold-that-thought.html' title='Hold that thought!'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-1861709243759953796</id><published>2008-12-02T00:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T21:45:13.192-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Social standings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Musings'/><title type='text'>Cowardly Cops</title><content type='html'>A friend and I were travelling by 23C recently on our was to Besant Nagar. As we got into the bus at the IIT stop, two(obviously drunk) guys sped past the bus on a bike yelling and screaming at the bus driver. The driver kept trying to lose them - by either going slower or faster but these guys kept up with the bus and kept screaming. Apparently, this has been going on from Saidapet. Finally, the driver stopped the bus at the Madya Kailash signal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were 3 cops at signal - it was sunday evening and they were doing what cops do best on sunday evening - torture inncoent college students regarding lack of various papers and so make huge sums of money in the process. The driver stoped right next to them and tried telling them about the two guys. One cop was on the phone and didn't realise that the driver was talking to him until he caught me waving frantically to him he trotted over to see what was going on and when he found out he came back to his original place, a completely bored expression on his face. The second cop - an old cop, listen to the driver and then walked away, and the third cop was in the corner 'potty kadai' smoking!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were completely unconcerned. Why should they listen to what the driver has to say, was their attitude? After all, the driver has no money to hand over as a bribe.. he has no influence, he can't get them a promotion! And helping him, would probably mean, they'll catch a lesser number of students and lesser bribes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yuck!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, a friend of mine was caught "speeding" (read: 40 km/hr) at 11 in the night. The cops caught him and because there was a girl(another friend o mine) with him, they started giving him ahard time and demanded he pay them 8000Rs. They kept at it until the girl remarked, "this is ridiculous, lets call your dad". Then they backed off, since the dad was a respectable gentleman who's sure to be influential.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this other friend of mine, who's doing journalism, tells me that even if he's caught breaking traffic rules (going the wrong way in a one way lane, for example), the cops don't do anything further. They just let him go. Which, if you ask me, is as cowardly as they can get!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This city's policemen disgust me no end!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if there's something I can do about it - at least the Madya Kailash incident since I witnessed it first hand. If you guys can think of anything, let me know..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-1861709243759953796?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/1861709243759953796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=1861709243759953796' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/1861709243759953796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/1861709243759953796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2008/12/cowardly-cops.html' title='Cowardly Cops'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35908995.post-2508511564061587118</id><published>2008-11-22T01:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T21:47:14.196-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Musings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>Words! Words! Words!</title><content type='html'>Don't you love them? They way they sound when you say them out aloud? The taste they leave behind? The way they mean something different in every context? The power they give you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't you love learning a new word? I remember the first time I chanced upon a new word. I must've been 8. Maybe 9. I was looking up something in our tattered Chambers' and I saw 'quintessence' on top. The word caught my eye and I looked it up. It was beautiful. Chambers also gives you the origin of the word - it's roots. I won't spoil it for you. Look it up yourself. In a dictionary - don't google it. Googling, for some reason takes away the beauty of words. You can never do the "on the way to the dictionary" thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad, when he is super bored, and had no new books to read, opens the dictionary and looks up words - their meaning, the story behind them.. It might sound geeky, but I can totally relate to that. I'd like to do that too!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, you know, at the end of the day, it's not the words you use that counts. It's how you use them that really matters. Sadly, few people get that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take &lt;a href="http://theskyisfalling-again.blogspot.com/"&gt;Chicken Little&lt;/a&gt; for example. I believe (and I'm sure once you read her blog, you'll agree) that her language is extremely powerful! She doesn't write about anything powerful or deep, mind you. She writes about college, relationships, friends, studies - stuff everyone goes through. She doesn't use big words either. She uses simple, everyday, what you-and-i-will-use words. And yet, her posts are powerful. She has a way with them words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or take &lt;a href="http://arjie.com/"&gt;Roshan George.&lt;/a&gt; He has, by far, the biggest vocabulary among anyone I know. His vocabulary is even better than my dad's (yes appa, it is and you know it!), but you hardly find him flaunting his words. He learns these words and waits to use them. He threw this word at me the other day and I went all blank and he said "I've been waiting to use it ever since I was a kid. Try it somtime." I promptly forgot the word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, I'm not so good with the vocabulary. I forget things. I don't remember words easily. They slip through my mind. I envy Roshan George very much. But I envy Chicken Little more. Because while Roshan knows the words, Chicken knows how to use them. And that's what really counts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: Roshan writes pretty well too. Much better than me at any rate. Loads better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;@ Roshan and Chicken: Sorry guys, the post isn't aimed at either of you. I just used you as examples.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/35908995-2508511564061587118?l=spicathestar.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/feeds/2508511564061587118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=35908995&amp;postID=2508511564061587118' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/2508511564061587118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/35908995/posts/default/2508511564061587118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://spicathestar.blogspot.com/2008/11/words-words-words.html' title='Words! Words! Words!'/><author><name>Spica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06500280176162389592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06414245102093815480'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry></feed>