<?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-8654895341639399689</id><updated>2011-11-28T06:34:06.444+05:30</updated><category term='And the cnfsouoin continues...'/><category term='Heat waves...'/><category term='After spring comes FALL...'/><category term='Tick... Tick... Tick...'/><category term='Drrr Drrrr Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...'/><category term='Yep... I am right... Hmmm... Debatable...'/><category term='PROCRASTINATING...'/><category term='Wishful thinking...'/><category term='CNSFOEUD...'/><category term='Scriptin joy...'/><category term='Present Ma&apos;am...'/><title type='text'>hypogammaglobulinemia</title><subtitle type='html'>That word actually means an abnormally low concentration of gamma globulin in the blood and increased risk of infection... Obviously in my case it HAD to be something else. Else i would never know such a word. Its a long story... When we meet i will tell you... Until then... Read on!!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-7881531716262800297</id><published>2011-09-14T20:43:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-14T20:43:13.600+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Nee Badalaadarey - A Wagtail Production</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="480" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/hc93exsoOGo?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-7881531716262800297?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/7881531716262800297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=7881531716262800297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/7881531716262800297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/7881531716262800297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2011/09/nee-badalaadarey-wagtail-production.html' title='Nee Badalaadarey - A Wagtail Production'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/hc93exsoOGo/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-5892717235343193468</id><published>2007-05-06T21:14:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-06T21:58:00.633+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Scriptin joy...'/><title type='text'>A novice writer, a first time director and a bunch of excel trained corporatites...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;That title says it all, i guess. I have nothing more to write. But well... I will....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;This is the story of my experiments with truth... He he... I mean my experiment with writing my first ever play script. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Koo called me one early morning in my holiday in Bangalore and asked me to get ready for a meeting. I dragged myself out of bed and had started to brush my teeth when it suddenly hit me. I was in Bangalore. On a holiday. I worked in Delhi. Where the hell had this meeting come from?? I realised Koo was joking and jumped right back in bed and Zzzzz... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Koo called again in about an hour or so later. He was at his clients office. And apparently he and his client were waiting for me. This meant that i didn't have the time to get ready as lazily as one does on a holiday. I didn't even have time to ask Koo what this was about. So i rushed through the routines and rushed to his clients office. My timing was perfect. I reached the minute the client, henceforth referred to as Mr.C, had to attend a con call. This meant i had the time to first of all blast Koo and then figure out what i was doing there. He told me that Mr. C had their annual meet and they had to stage a play representing Bangalore. So they wanted help with a concept and a script. Well... I have done my bit of theatre. So i guess it was ok. Not so bad on a holiday...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Mr. C finished the con call. We discussed the theme of the event and the basic message that was to be conveyed in the play. You are not going to believe what was given to me... The script had to be funny yet serious, message conveying yet not boring and short yet long enough. SUPER i thought. This was going to be like super easy. Yeah right!! Since i had written quite a few scripts till then. Let me count actually. Ummm... Err... After much thought and recall i can proudly tell that this was my FIRST script. FIRST SCRIPT?? And this was Koos client. Anything went wrong and well you know the rest. The play had to convey super interesting messages like DOMINATION, COURAGE, POWER over their competitors or something like that. And this was an insurance company. EXCITING no??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;We finished the meeting. And i told Koo a concept i had thought of. Yeah i had already thought of a concept. He said its upto me. And then i did what i do when i am in a tough spot like this. I decided to apply my mind, concentrate, focus and... ask my mom to help me. She agreed just like she had each and every time she wrote my essays in school. She liked the concept i had in mind. See i am not totally useless. So she wrote a skeleton script. It was good enough. Then the rest was a lot simpler and fun. I dramatised it a bit. Like jazzed it up with directions for music and certain changes in the dialouges to add to the humor. Then suddenly i realised that i had to email the script to him. Email meant i had to type it in. And type it on an excel sheet. For some time i had forgotten that this is work at some level. And an excel sheet was the last thing i wanted to look at. But well... It had to be done. And i did it. And emailed it to Mr. C.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Next morning i woke up late quite pleased with myself about having completed the task in the given time. Just when i was praising myself Mr.C called me. His call was like this scene from a movie where the shot is a sudden close up of the face with this loud thunder like sound in the background. He said 'Mazaa nahi aayaa'. My world came shattering down. How could he say it so easily?? I asked him what he didn't like or what he thought was wrong?? He just said the messages that have to be conveyed are not clear enough. He said people wil take this too lightly. He went on and on. Something made me stop him. Else he would have torn me apart. I figured that i would have to meet him again and explain it to him. So there it was... My SECOND meeting on a holiday. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I reached his office a couple of hours after he had shatterred my little happiness. I had no clue what i was going to explain to him. But something hapenned. I walked in and i was on song. I almost enacted the whole play out in front of him with full sound effects and emotion. My performance lasted about 15 minutes. I finished. He looked at me and said nothing. Silence filled the room. My heart was thumping loudly. I don't think i could survive another blow. My eyes pleaded him to speak. The silence continued. And then... I asked him. I had to. He started playing with his mobile phone like he didn't want to say anything. Ok i am going to stop building this up more. He spoke finally and said that it made complete sense to him now. Phew... I sat down exhausted. But he said he was worried whether he and his team will be able to perform the way i had explained it. I wanted to say that's not possible because they are not like me. But i shut my mouth. He asked me to post pone my return ticket and help them with the play. But that was not possible. My regular routine in Delhi called for me to be there. Somehow now i wanted to continue this. But well that was not possible. So i told Mr.C that Koo was good at that and he would direct them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I got out of the office and met Koo and broke the news to him. And suddenly the smile from his face was gone. He was not the least bit interested in directing them. Just like i had written a thousand scripts before this one, he had directed a thousand plays. But i could not do much. So i left him with it and was soon back in Delhi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;The first few days i kept getting calls from Koo asking me to explain certain parts of the script. He was finally getting into it. I thought. Then there was no news from him. Days passed. Then one evening he called and said that they were going on stage in 15 minutes. I froze. I was tensed. I told Koo to call me the minute they finished. I had stopped doing what ever it was that i was doing. I started pacing up and down the office. An hour passed away and nothing happened. I checked if my phone was switched on. I did that some hundred times i think. Then i gave up. I called Koo. He cut my call. HE CUT MY CALL... So what was happening?? Had they finished?? Had they not?? Did they perform well?? Did they goof up?? What?? What?? WHAT?? Just then Koo messaged that they were on stage. Oh boy... So i had to wait for some more time. I tried sitting. Didn't work. I was pacing again. Another hour passed. This was getting too much. I mean if they were on stage back then that meant that they would have finished shortly after that. Not an hour... What was Koo doing?? I tried calling him. He cut my call again. This time there was no message as well. I didn't know what to do. I had no other number to call on. Ahhhhhhh... This was killing me... Finally Koo called. And i let the phone ring a lot to show that i had other important things to do. But that was troubling me only. So i picked up the phone and Koo screamed. Like this long tarzan like shout in a never ending wail. It meant what, i don't know. But it didn't make me feel better. I was not ready for another close face shot with thunder like music scene. Then Koo shouted out that the audience totally loved them and that they performed flawlessly and that all the music cues and everything was just super. Like SUPER DUPER... And the audience gave them a standing ovation and asked them to perform again. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... It was my turn to scream. The same tarzan scream. And i was jumping all over the place. Ahhh... The beauty of hard work and perseverence. He he... It pays and pays well. Not like it was all that hard work considering i had help from my mom and i was not around for the tougher part of it. The direction. But what the hell. Team effort. In a team, every player is important. And each and every positive contribution is what leads to a good team performace. So i can say my part in this was important. Yes it was. So don't try and change that. Don't try bursting my little happiness bubble once again. Let me live in it...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-5892717235343193468?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/5892717235343193468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=5892717235343193468' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/5892717235343193468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/5892717235343193468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2007/05/novice-writer-first-time-director-and.html' title='A novice writer, a first time director and a bunch of excel trained corporatites...'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-7558648277746140995</id><published>2007-04-24T11:14:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-25T12:46:25.825+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tick... Tick... Tick...'/><title type='text'>THE TRANSITION!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;A transition is a change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc., to another. It happens in everyday life. Infact it happens all the time. There is a transition between time now and time a second later. But what defines the transition is what you are doing in the phase before the transition and what you will do in the phase after the transition. Sometimes the transition is smooth. Sometimes its messy. One might want to stay in the pre transition phase or in the post transition phase. But the most difficult is when you try to stay in the transition itself. Its impossible to do so. Eventually you have to move on. Go to the next phase. Finally you have to complete the transition. Here is what happened when i tried to stay in the transition and refused to move on to the next phase...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I work in New Delhi. My life here is more or less defined with the time spent in my office. For me its the opposite. I have a nine hour shift at home. The rest of the time i am in office. I was in this routine which i just could not seem to break out of. Then the day came that i was to go to Bangalore for some personal work. Even that day i followed the same routine. Only i left early in the evening and managed to catch my flight just in time. The flight was at 10 pm. I landed in Bangalore at 1.30 am the following morning. It was some connecting flight that took me around half of India. I walked out of the airport and the minute i stepped on the Bangalore roads i was in my transition. My body seemed to go with the flow. But my mind was shooting back and forth. Life in Bangalore as it used to be and Life in Delhi as it was suddenly confused the HELL out of me. Going with the flow seemed the right thing to do. Not like i had much of a choice. This letting go of myself seemed quite unlike something that i would do. I was suddenly unsure of my moves. And being unsure in a city like Bangalore where i have spent 20 plus years of my life didn't make me feel any better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;The next morning was the weirdest. I didn't wake up to my morning alarm on my mobile which was quite scary. Because i woke up with a start thinking i'd slept in and was late to work. Just then my mom walked in with two glasses of hot drinking water with honey and lemon. And i was not surprised that had happened. I drank up the two glasses like it was something i did normally. Only that used to happen when i was in Bangalore. In Delhi the only thing that went into my mouth before i reached office was my tooth paste. My mind was thinking again. Then i got out of bed. Finished the routines of the morning which by far are the same no matter which city you are in. As i was getting dressed the corner of my eye caught the blinking of a small green light. I turned and saw it was a COMPUTER. My computer. I quickly jumped onto it. My mind had scrolled back to the time i used to work through it. It had entered the MY PICTURES folder even before i had turned the computer on. I put it on. I checked if there was net connectivity. There was. So i decided to send all the pictures and files that i wanted from this computer to my mail account. So that i could access them from Delhi. I had some many songs which i decided to burn. In all my excitement and my endless list of what i wanted to do i hadn't noticed that i had logged into my company mail account. And was suddenly shocked to see that instead of doing all that i said i would i was accessing and replying to work mails. Damn the TRANSITION!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Over my next few days slowly but surely i stepped out of the transition and stepped into the new phase. My life in Bangalore. It was not easy or sudden. It happened after me constantly checking my company mail account from various internet parlours. Or from my friends laptops when i met them. But it happened. And i began enjoying my stay without having to think or feel weird about anything. And before i knew it i was thoroughly enjoying my time in Bangalore. Until the day came that i had to leave. Yes Ladies and Gentlemen... We come to the next TRANSITION. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;The sunday i was leaving began wrongly. I had hardly slept but was wide awake. I had to meet some more people before i left but i forgot to call them. Instead i just spent time at home. Doing what i still am trying to figure out. Then i packed and left. Usually i would have someone who would come with me to the airport. But somehow no one was there on that sunday. So i walked up to the end of the road to catch a rickshaw. My mind was beginning to think weird things again. I was in Bangalore where me going alone to the airport would just not happen. But in Delhi this was the only way it happened. Confusion began. Mind and body went into this uncoordinated sort of dance. Then at the airport i took my boarding pass only to find out that my flight was delayed. In Delhi, if this happened then i would walk into the book store and pick something to read. But then again i was in Bangalore. Something stopped me from doing so. Suddenly Forl messaged saying that she was coming to the airport to see me. She came and we killed time talking absolute rubbish sitting on the foot path in the parking lot of the airport. Very Bangalore i must say for me. But then again i was on my way to Delhi. AHHHHHHHH!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Then Forl left and i boarded my flight. I tried sleeping on the flight. Managed quite well. But when i woke up i was in a bad mood. I dunno why. As we landed the pilot announced that the temperature outside was 39 degrees. 39 DEGREES at 10.30 in the night?? I had forgotten the Delhi summer had begun. The last 10 days i had lived in the temperature controlled comfort of Bangalore. I walked out of the flight with a mournful mood. The chaos began. In Bangalore for one to take his luggage and get out of the airport would be a 15 minute process. It seemed like i was in a bigger city for the first time and was shocked to see the crowds. It took me half an hour just to get hold of my bags much after i decided to fight the crowd and reach the conveyor belt which brought in the luggage. Then i walked out of the airport only to walk straight back in. In Bangalore i would walk out and someone would be there to pick me up. In Delhi there was no one and i had to take a pre paid taxi home. I did so. My mind yet again was confused. I had to meet a friend for dinner. Went straight to where she was. Dropped the luggage and went to a small Goan restaurant and had a nice friendly dinner. Good food. Good company. No Jazz. Very Bangalore. But i was in Delhi. Oh man... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I reached home and rang the bell. Only to realise that my mom wouldn't open the door. I was in Delhi. I lived alone. I opened the door and walked in. Then i changed. Dumped my bags in the room. Jumped on to my bed and put the TV on. I fell asleep in the heat with the TV blaring and the fan adding on like an irritating mosquito.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;The next morning i woke up with a start. I had slept in...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-7558648277746140995?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/7558648277746140995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=7558648277746140995' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/7558648277746140995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/7558648277746140995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2007/04/transition.html' title='THE TRANSITION!!'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-2014401061948683957</id><published>2007-04-09T10:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-09T11:49:52.270+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Dancer, painter, singer... Artist!! Photographer??</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Is photography a form of art?? Can it be used as a tool to display ones artistic talents??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I used to believe otherwise. For me photography was all about knowing the features in your digital camera. Once that was done u were ready to join NAT GEO as their official photographer. Not so obvious as it is... Over my last year in Delhi i have seen some work of photography which totally chagned my point of view. I have realised now, what a painter does with a pallette and colours, a photographer does with lights and lenses... Photography as a form of Art is absolutely true. And to show you that it is evolving with each passing day i have to present to you a photography exhibition of 9 such photographers who not only believe in the art of photography but also execute it to perfection...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;The exhibition is called '&lt;strong&gt;VISION BEYOND&lt;/strong&gt;'. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Exhibition opens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;9th April '07 to 17th April '07&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gallery&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Shridharani Gallery&lt;br /&gt;Triveni Kala sangam&lt;br /&gt;205, Tansen Marg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;New Delhi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Exhibition continues&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;18th April '07 to 25th April '07&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Gallery&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Art Indus Gallery&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;37, Santushti Shopping Arcade&lt;br /&gt;Chanakyapuri&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;New Delhi &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;The photographers whose work is being displayed are :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Dinesh Khanna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Malkiat Singh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Nakshatar Lathar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Naresh Singh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Parthiv Shah&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Pradeep Dasgupta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Saadiya Kochar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sandeep Biswas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Shalini Saran&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-2014401061948683957?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/2014401061948683957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=2014401061948683957' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/2014401061948683957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/2014401061948683957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2007/04/dancer-painter-singer-artist.html' title='Dancer, painter, singer... Artist!! Photographer??'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-4969121031292378970</id><published>2007-04-01T14:09:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-03T13:41:17.268+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Present Ma&apos;am...'/><title type='text'>Sad but true!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Lunatic or Victim... Retarded or shocked beyond belief... Unknown friend or known enemy...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I know what i have written above does not make any sense as such. But something happened last night. And i am DISGUSTED with our society. Or atleast that part of it which was sitting in Coffee Day, Saket Complex on the night of 31st of March, 2007 at around 11 pm. I was there too. I put myself in this HEARTLESS bunch who were there and did nothing. Doing nothing in retrospect seems ok. But this bunch laughed and mocked this lady who did something that caught everyone there by surprise. This post is to tell you about that lady and our 'so called' developing society.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I wrapped up my work like everyday and locked the office. I am the last one out each night. On my way home my regular stop over is the Saket complex. It just helps in reassuring me that i still have a life. Like everyday i parked my bike. Spoke to the parking attendants. Checked if the Bhel Puri waala was doing well. Then i walked into Coffee Day. It was buzzing with people of all ages. There was one little boy running around trying to find something interesting to do. A family of four were sharing light moments which were so loud that the music playing in the cafe semed like a mere background score to their theatrical performance. One long haired college kid was sitting on the table next to mine. We were both facing the main enterance to the cafe. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Before i get into what happened, let me tell you that below this cafe there is a book shop called Teksons. The enterance to it is through the cafe. And its shut whenever i have seen it as it shuts by 7 pm. There is a staircase leading down to the it. A set of steps which look like they are leading to nothing as its usually dark. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I ordered my usual. Irish coffee. Coffee Day has a new glass in which they serve this coffee. Its quite cool. My first sip was the only one i remember. The rest of the coffee disappeared somewhere between what happened next and my thoughts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;One lady dressed quite decently opened the cafe door. She was wearing a black formal outift with a jacket. No one seemed to notice, but this lady stood there for quite sometime. Then finally when she spoke a few heads turned. She screamed right from where she was, asking if the book shop down there was open. One of the waiters walked upto her saying that it was already shut. She wanted to know for sure and didn't seem to believe him. So she asked for the manager. He walked up to her. By now this woman in black had the attention of most of the people sitting there. She definitely had mine. She told the manager that the book shop was not shut. She told him that his cafe was open and anyone could walk down to the book shop and steal the books. The manager tried talking to her. But there was something else that was driving this woman. She seemed unstoppable. She suddenly began talking of how young boys and girls go down there after the book shop is shut and get aids. She asked the manager to show the Chocolate doughnut that they served. She said even their doughnut was spreading aids. And then she began doing these gestures with her hand that showed that she was disghusted with something so bad that it would not come off even if she washed herself a million times. A lady sitting right near the door suddenly interrupted. I think she did that because she realised that the manager was helpless in trying to calm the woman in black. This interruption seemed to intensify her all the more. She turned to the lady and told her even she would get aids if she was in this cafe. She seemed to get more and more violent and aggressive. The manager and the waiter tried their best in tyring to calm her. But it just would not happen. Suddenly... she stopped speaking. The manager had caught her hand. He tried to gently move her out of the cafe. She looked at the manager and then at all the people who were sitting in the cafe. She was asking for something. Yet it seemed like she was trying to tell us something. Her eyes locked with mine for a brief second. Then she broke off her hand from the manager's grip and began saying that he cannot treat her that way. That this was India. And that women were treated with respect here. Then she turned around and left. The manager shut the door. No one moved. Something had hit them so fast they didn't have the time to react. Suddenly the long haired boy sitting on the table next to mine started laughing. And before you know it the family of four, the waiters and the lady near the door joined in. And then out of nowhere there were these comments thrown in to the air making fun of the woman in black, laughing at her, ridiculing her. The boy even mentioned that he would have slapped her if he was in the managers place. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I felt out of place. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Somehow i was still dumbstruck. Too many things had happened and my mind was spinning at the speed of light. I wanted to know where the woman had gone. In that short time that she was standing at the door i was also sure that she was safe. But now that she had walked away i was concerned. I felt responsible for not having done anything to ensure that she was given the necessary treatment. I had not stood up and asked the people around me to shut up. I had not done ANYTHING. I just remained there sipping my coffee. I had watched the incident like it was a scene out of a movie. I knew i would be back home from here and then to office the next day and then back here once again. Nothing would change in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;But this incident does not seem to leave me. I want to know what happened to her?? I want to know what had happened that brought her to the state that she was in?? I want to know. But i don't want to do what it takes to know. I want... I want... I want... Is that all i can say?? Isn't there anything that i will ever do to know... But as always, in the present, one always feels that the past can be corrected if repeated. This is how our society is. No one wants to do something in the present. People like to react in two situations. One is if you give them a situation from the past, they will willingly correct it. (Or so they say). The other is the future. People like to react in the future. No one wants to stand up in the present. No one wants to lose out on the present. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-4969121031292378970?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/4969121031292378970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=4969121031292378970' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/4969121031292378970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/4969121031292378970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2007/04/lunatic-or-victim.html' title='Sad but true!!'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-4816935218641353282</id><published>2007-03-30T20:27:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-30T21:47:42.345+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Heat waves...'/><title type='text'>My first time...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you have it in you??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Are you man enough??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Can you take the challenge??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sounds like promotional campaigns of the 'WHO DARES WINS' TV show or the stuff that the 'INDIAN NATIONAL ARMY' comes out with. But nope... This is not about any such stuff. I am referring to something that has been teasing me since the past few days. Its like something you are so familiar with but you just can't put your hand on. Yet its all around you in an intangible teasing state. Taking you through a nostalgic trip to a time and place which you are very familiar with. But these teasers that you see do not give you a picture as to whether there is a good thing coming your way or something disastrous. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;This morning... I realised that it was DISASTROUS!! I am being extremely sweet to the description of whats coming my way. The last time was my first time. And trust me, all that people had told me about it, turned out to be a very mild version of the actual truth. My first time... was a disaster. And more than being able to pass it off, like i thought, it stayed with me for many months to follow. Getting more and more difficult to put up with. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Its around the corner once again. My second time. I am supposed to be all experienced and know how to handle it well. But this morning i suddenly realised that all that i had learnt in my first time was erased and i was back where i had started. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;What do i do??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;How do i get out of this situation??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Can someone tell me how i should handle my second time??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;My second &lt;strong&gt;DELHI SUMMER...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-4816935218641353282?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/4816935218641353282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=4816935218641353282' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/4816935218641353282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/4816935218641353282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2007/03/my-first-time.html' title='My first time...'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-4778555352017199555</id><published>2007-03-26T19:09:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-26T21:14:58.838+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='After spring comes FALL...'/><title type='text'>Gravity of the matter...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/RgfNYL72i_I/AAAAAAAAABE/2VlnV_wQLtc/s1600-h/Me+climbed+15+ft+above+the+back+drop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5046227722896313330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/RgfNYL72i_I/AAAAAAAAABE/2VlnV_wQLtc/s200/Me+climbed+15+ft+above+the+back+drop.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do not wonder what that pic is about... I'll tell you. Thats my view when i had climbed on top of a 15 foot tall backdrop of the Wills Lifestyle India Fashion Week - Grand Finale. It was Rajesh Pratap Singhs line of wear. And i was co-ordinating the setup. But this post is not about the show. This one is about my shoulder. Yes... My shoulder. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I had not climbed on top of the backdrop to take this picture like some eccentric photographer. The backdrop was too reflective and needed to be tilted. The labourers working for me were up there trying to fix it. But it just wouldn't happen right. Finally i decided to go up there myself. And even before i realised it i had made 3 trips up and down the 15 feet backdrop. So in my next lap upwards the grid i miscalculated and slipped. (Like i was calculating and moving up). And the next thing i knew i was not going upwards. But just then... Like JUST THEN... I caught hold of the bar on top. I don't know how that happened. And then... I was a pendulum. Oscillating from one side to the other, 15 feet from the ground. I thought it was too cool. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Then i climbed up and got on with my work. But little had i realised that in every battle, in every fight for survival there are certain casualities that occur. I didn't realise anything till my work was complete. Just before the show started i felt this sudden urge to sit down. Then i realised that i hadn't for one moment the whole day rested. So i deicided to sit. As i was going to do so i placed my oscillating support hand on the ground and this time my front line soldier who had fought gravity and saved me suddenly collapsed. This time gravity had the last laugh. Fortunately i was only 3 feet from the ground and so it was a soft thud. My shoulder was the casualty in the battle between gravity and my oscillating hand. It was like a scene from a war movie. The Hero lives on. And in my hand (literally) i have the real hero who saved me dying with each passing second. I bit my tongue and pretended to be man enough and not shed tears. I let it pass like i knew these things happen and one must move on (What rubbish). I went home and settled in the comfort of my bed. And once i had my blanket on everything was ok. I was in my safe little world. But the cost at which i was saved that night had not sunk in. For in the morning when i woke up my hand refused to move. He blamed me for the loss of our friend. I agree with him that it was our friend that brought us together. And that without him our connection seemed pointless....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Even today i try making contact with my hand. But its like trying to connect to the internet when your phone is disconnected due to non payment. Life moves on... But something stays forever. Something that never leaves. Something that... That... That...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... Hurts lke hell... Damn you, you stupid shoulder. I don't wanna go to a doctor... Mummy... HELP...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-4778555352017199555?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/4778555352017199555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=4778555352017199555' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/4778555352017199555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/4778555352017199555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2007/03/gravity-of-matter.html' title='Gravity of the matter...'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/RgfNYL72i_I/AAAAAAAAABE/2VlnV_wQLtc/s72-c/Me+climbed+15+ft+above+the+back+drop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-528585079298737571</id><published>2007-03-12T22:47:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-14T22:53:46.898+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Yep... I am right... Hmmm... Debatable...'/><title type='text'>Cause and effect!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;If u are following my blog or u are on my mailing list then you should know about my sister and brother in laws drive from London, UK to Bangalore, India. Then you should also know that they start their drive later this month. And that they cover over 20,000 kms with this drive. And that they are raising funds for a 'CAUSE' with this. Ok don't get irritated. I am just making sure you know that such a thing exists... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;A couple of days back this friend of mine (one looney chick who calls her dog 'button'), told me that the cause this drive was working towards was actually harming something else. That brought about 2 really long chat window scrolls. We argued and argued and argued. I told her the plus points of this and she told me how these plus points worked towards a number of negatives. And the argument continued. Today, we finally finished arguing and she agreed (or so i can write coz this is my blog) that this drive was for a good cause. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;But when you actually sit and think about who is right and who is wrong you realise that all these are only discussions. Nothing is universal. Nothing can be applied to everyone. These things vary from person to person, situation to situation, perception to perception and so on. So... What does one do?? How does one analyse if they are doing good or harming with any action?? How does one analyse anything basically?? Because what is right to you could be completely wrong to me. Or atleast i could argue against it being right. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;Right and wrong are two words which have practically divided the world. I could be right or wrong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;Right and wrong are two words which decide nothing and leave everything unclear. I could be right or wrong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;Right and wrong are two shades of the same side, not opposite sides. I could be right or wrong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;And you think i am super crazy to be posting such rubbish. I could be right or wrong... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-528585079298737571?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/528585079298737571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=528585079298737571' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/528585079298737571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/528585079298737571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2007/03/cause-and-effect.html' title='Cause and effect!!'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-1867471048796956014</id><published>2007-03-05T21:14:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-05T22:46:38.863+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wishful thinking...'/><title type='text'>If life was what we thought it would be when we were born...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Do you remember what you thought life would be when u were born?? U do remember. But i don't think u'd understand the thoughts you had then. Coming to think of it.... Did we actually have 'thoughts'?? I wanna know... If only there was some way to find that out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;But lemme humour me... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;When i was born i KNOW these thoughts ran through my mind :&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;"I am like the centre of attention here..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;"So this is wot the world is like..." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Everyone gives me the attention i need..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Everyone wants to see me..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Everyone wants to touch me..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;"If i need something all i have to do is ask (read cry) and i get it..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Everyone around me is genuinely happy to see me..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;"I don't see any pretence here at all..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;"Wot could be better than to just sit and have everything given to you..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;"I am so gonna enjoy my life..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;Something in those lines is what was running through my mind. Now that i sit back and think what has changed... Hmmm... Nothing at all... He he... Yeah u know i am kidding... But each of those thoughts still creep in at times when things like that happen around me. The only sad thing is that all of it doesn't happen together. There is always something missing. The picture is never complete. Satisfaction is left at a 'make do with what u have' stage... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;Sigh...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-1867471048796956014?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/1867471048796956014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=1867471048796956014' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/1867471048796956014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/1867471048796956014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2007/03/if-life-was-what-we-thought-it-would-be.html' title='If life was what we thought it would be when we were born...'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-4663602173949882977</id><published>2007-03-03T22:41:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-04T15:12:40.154+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PROCRASTINATING...'/><title type='text'>10.30 am to 10.30 pm</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Thats the shift i work. Crazy i know... But me being me i do what one can do in 4 hours over my 12 hours and i always have things pending.... Why why why?? Well... The day this gets answered i will stop this shift and begin a 24 hour one...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Well lets see wot happened over the 12 working hours on 03.03.2007... Gosh... Wot happened?? I seem to have no memory at all. Or nothing happened?? HELLOOOOO?? Whats happening here?? Thats what... NOTHING... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Actually if i have to recount all that happened then....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I finished a meeting with an agency &lt;em&gt;(quite useless actually)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I met a stylist &lt;em&gt;(leettle beet frum Bendadakaalooroo)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I made an estimate &lt;em&gt;(WOW.. What an achievement)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I made an offer letter &lt;em&gt;(Oooff... What hard work i say...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I corrected a film note &lt;em&gt;(Hmmm... The first signs of 'WORK')&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I played cricket in office &lt;em&gt;(the definite HIGHLIGHT of the day and also the most tiring)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I chatted, orkutted and blogged&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Thats that. Now that i have listed it all out i realise that i am wrong in saying that what i do in 12 hours one can do in 4 hours. It has got to be different. Something like.... What i do in 12 hours one can do in &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;30 minutes&lt;/span&gt;... Nonsense... And then i say there is too much work on the days i sit to clear the clutter from the past... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;You know everyone is like that. I am sure.&lt;br /&gt;Ok almost...&lt;br /&gt;Ok ok... Sometimes...&lt;br /&gt;Areyyyyyyyyyyy... On certain occassions...&lt;br /&gt;O-K &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;F-I-N-E... Only '&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;' am like that...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;I have so much more to write. But i guess i will do it tomorrow. He he... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-4663602173949882977?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/4663602173949882977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=4663602173949882977' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/4663602173949882977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/4663602173949882977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2007/03/1030-am-to-1030-pm.html' title='10.30 am to 10.30 pm'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-4602412816993524270</id><published>2007-02-27T21:41:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-01T22:09:11.999+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Drrr Drrrr Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...'/><title type='text'>A Long Road Home...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;A long road home is the story of my life at the end of every day. Its funny... Right now i am dealing with two 'A long road home' cases. One is the distance from my office to my 'home sweet home'. 7 (damn) kms...(Thats not a lot i know... But wot the hell...) The other is my sister and bro in laws website. Let me tell you more about that... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;My sis and bro in law are doctors working in London. They have decided to drive from London to India. Yes ladies and gentlemen... DRIVE... Drrr Drrr Drrr Drrriiiiiveee... D-R-I-V-E... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ok... I think you got the point. Well its quite a thing. They are also raising funds for a charity with this drive. I will post the exact details very soon. Their website should be up in a week. That brings me to the second 'A long road home' in my life at the moment. Talking about covering distances... Check this out... They (being my sister and bro in law) are in London. I am sitting in Delhi (quite insignificant actually). And their website is being designed in Bangalore. Now that is almost the start and finish points of their drive as well. Of course they travel through many more countries and have a lot planned for it. But this is what its about... Look out for the post with the exact and detailed plan of their drive...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;I guess blogging is getting better with me... Or is it the other way around??&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-4602412816993524270?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/4602412816993524270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=4602412816993524270' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/4602412816993524270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/4602412816993524270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2007/02/long-road-home.html' title='A Long Road Home...'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-5578879898219852427</id><published>2007-02-26T21:36:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-27T21:40:51.549+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='And the cnfsouoin continues...'/><title type='text'>Blogging comes naturally</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Does it?? I don't think so... I decided to post at different times through the day when different things happened. That never happened. But what i am trying to figure out is... Do i post to myself?? Like talking to myself or do i post as some 3rd person saying these things to me?? Or should i just write... Well... I asked some hard core bloggers. And they said 'JUST WRITE'...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;So i thought and thought and thought... Surprisingly i am still thinking... And thinking... He he... And suddenly i see a light... Everything is clear now. I am all set... YAY...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I realise now (after much thought) that i will try different things with this speech business in blogging... And soon i will begin documenting my life. I have that in some 100 folders in my computer. So look for more...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Until next time... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Stay Confused...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-5578879898219852427?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/5578879898219852427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=5578879898219852427' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/5578879898219852427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/5578879898219852427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2007/02/blogging-comes-naturally.html' title='Blogging comes naturally'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8654895341639399689.post-2213850279752772928</id><published>2007-02-25T20:33:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-27T21:40:14.016+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CNSFOEUD...'/><title type='text'>Mind Blogging!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Ok here goes... My first post...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know it is so easy to feel that the other person does not do the amount you do for them. And this happens all the time. One is always in a constant state of imbalance with someone or the other. No no.. I am not talking about a boy and girl in a relationship. I am referring to just about anybody. It happens and it troubles quite a bit. But who is right?? What is right?? Is it right to think that the other person is not as good to you as you are to them?? Or is it right to think that you get only wot u deserve?? Or should one take life as... Do what you want and let people do what they want?? Or... I could go on... But thats the state i am in. So i think i should stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well well... I guess this is messy and confusing enough for my first post. I have just taken the first step. Congrats Bhoo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8654895341639399689-2213850279752772928?l=bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/feeds/2213850279752772928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8654895341639399689&amp;postID=2213850279752772928' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/2213850279752772928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8654895341639399689/posts/default/2213850279752772928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bhushanbagadia.blogspot.com/2007/02/mind-blogging.html' title='Mind Blogging!!'/><author><name>Bhoo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09033302464990519144</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3OiVBk7rSEY/SYXdUz1WaKI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8re8yraD1Go/S220/Spikey+-+Mikey....jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
