<?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-7288732</id><updated>2009-11-10T04:39:16.301-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblings...</title><subtitle type='html'>Life or something like it</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>64</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-5297162788469870975</id><published>2007-11-02T05:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T05:22:32.844-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moved!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://nakul.wordpress.com"&gt;http://nakul.wordpress.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-5297162788469870975?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/5297162788469870975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=5297162788469870975&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/5297162788469870975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/5297162788469870975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2007/11/moved.html' title='Moved!'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-115673697912253349</id><published>2006-08-27T20:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T10:39:50.713-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Weekend reading</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;How I wonder what you are
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

The endless night &lt;/br&gt;
Gazes into my eyes.&lt;/br&gt;
My tears will make&lt;/br&gt;
A million stars.
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Thus writes Kamini Banga in her delicately penned set of poems titled 'I promise to be a good girl, God'. Kamini Banga wrote these poems over the ten year period when she was battling with breast cancer and its aftermath. In her foreword, she mentions ‘I found writing helped me grieve – something that we are not allowed by our loved ones... I believe grieving is a big healer; it helped me realize what must stay and what I could leave behind.’ &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Each of the poems has a pain unmistakable in its depth and almost unbearable. The harsh truth expressed in the simplest of phrases, the futile but unavoidable sadness that is an intrinsic nature of such situations hit you and hit you bad. I don’t know who to recommend this book to – not because it’s not good (it’s exceptional) but because it’s so depressing... but still, I’ll say: Read it. It’ll make you feel fortunate for what you have. In any case, poems are meant to be sad and these capture sadness like never before.
&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-115673697912253349?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/115673697912253349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=115673697912253349&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/115673697912253349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/115673697912253349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2006/08/weekend-reading.html' title='Weekend reading'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-115617599560039738</id><published>2006-08-21T08:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-28T22:44:07.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Generally speaking,</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I haven’t been blogging much off late. And frankly, I don’t have much to say today either. My blogging activity goes up only when I have something to crib about! But these are peaceful days for me. It is one of those rare phases in my life when I don’t have any short term targets to chase while the long term ones still hold and look doable, so life’s good. Hope the phase continues :).
&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
Meanwhile last month, a dear friend of mine from IITK, Abhishek Chaudhury, took that gigantic step of getting married. While we’ve constantly been in touch, Abhishek’s marriage announcement came as quite a jolt to me. One fine day, he calls up and tells me that he's got engaged and is getting married in a couple of months. Boss! &lt;em&gt;Kab? Kahan? Kaise?&lt;/em&gt; The suddenness of the whole thing being one (to which he had an arbit explanation that I don’t wanna get into here), Abhishek’s marriage announcement was also a reminder of how quickly the last seven years have passed and how much we’ve all grown from those heady days of our first semester at IIT. The ever-smiling and mischievous Abhishek, who once childishly declared “&lt;em&gt;Main bhi bhaaag ke shaadi karoonga&lt;/em&gt;” after having watched Saathiya and said that he would go bungee jumping on his honeymoon, was getting married! The images of that childish Abhishek are so deeply embedded in my memories of him that I found it hard to believe he was getting ready to shoulder the responsibility of a family. So last month, I went to Abhishek and Kirti’s marriage ceremony and they make a handsome couple and I wish them the very best that married life has on offer. Knowing Abhishek, there won’t be a dull day in their lives.
&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
Also, sometime back Diwaker tagged me (by the way, he finds this whole tagging business to be quite silly but apparently, that doesn’t stop him from passing on the tag to others when he gets one!) and since I have nothing else to blog about these days, here goes:&lt;/br&gt;
&lt;/br&gt;
&lt;strong&gt;I am thinking about…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
how to bring some discipline into my life.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I’ve said…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
a lot of things that I didn’t really mean :(.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I want to...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
be better at my work and find more time to read.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I wish...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
life was quieter.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I hear...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
a lot of noise and cribbing and gyan. Oh! Just shut up people!&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I wonder…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
what is the meaning of life? Is there a meaning at all?&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I regret…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
not having learnt a musical instrument when I was a kid.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I am…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
a nice person :)! Really!&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I dance…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
Uh!! Never! I have the worst two left feet in the world!&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I sing…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
songs that I really love when I’m alone :).&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I cry…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
hardly ever.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I am not always…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
as disciplined as I’d like to be.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I make with my hands…
&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;nothing much actually! I’m too lazy for cooking and all.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I write…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
quite poorly these days. I think I wasn’t that bad till sometime back.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I confuse…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
people’s names all the time.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;strong&gt;I need…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
someone with me when I’m having a meal.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

That’s it from me. Umm... I’m quite bored off this taggy business myself so let me not pass it on to anyone else. But if any of you are interested, have a go...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-115617599560039738?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/115617599560039738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=115617599560039738&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/115617599560039738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/115617599560039738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2006/08/generally-speaking.html' title='Generally speaking,'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-115389592903078867</id><published>2006-07-25T23:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T03:17:38.000-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reviews'/><title type='text'>Play Review: Sammy!</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;Courage is doing what you believe in.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

&lt;div align="justify"&gt;‘Sammy!’ attempts to depict the transformation of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi from an ordinary man to a Mahatma, and in the process delves into the confusion, dilemmas and internal conflicts that this man, often looked upon as the one who lent a moral force to the nation’s freedom struggle, would have faced during his momentous journey.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

The first half showing Gandhi in South Africa disappoints though – the disappointment being the attempt to portray him as a simple and humourous man in a barrister suit resulting in the character showing Charlie-Chaplinish mannerisms, cracking jokes and breaking into a freakish smile after every second line that he utters. And it can be quite irritating; after all, one expects to watch something thoughtful and meaningful when it comes to Gandhi, definitely not something comical as it seems during the first half.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

For a play to redeem itself from the situation above to the point where one feels ‘Okay, that was good' is something. ‘Sammy!’ manages to do that with its second half. As the play unfolds, we witness the various exchanges Gandhi has with his own conscience debating the internal dilemmas he has at different stages of his life – the right versus the wrong, the moral versus the immoral. Even as he gets more and more involved in politics, Gandhi never loses sight of his basic principles and morals and throughout draws courage from his convictions and his righteousness. The dialogues Gandhi has with his conscience, his guiding light, are quite interesting and thought provoking. The play also does well in showing a human angle to Gandhi's otherwise larger than life personality. There is a slight hint towards his guilt and regret as a father. His sadness and the fear of loneliness on his wife’s death makes for an insightful moment – the Mahatma, the father of the masses fearing loneliness.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

All the actors, other than probably the lead, Joy Sengupta (with his overacting in the first half), do more than justice to their characters. Neha Dubey, essaying the role of Kasturba Gandhi, is exceptionally good.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

In their last conversation, Gandhi’s conscience (with a sense of premonition of his death) asks of him to show courage and Gandhi replies back saying ‘Courage is doing what you believe in’ and smilingly walks away for his evening prayers, only to be assassinated by Nathuram Godse. But by then, he has already done his job and made himself redundant to the Indian political scene. For a shy barrister who was too nervous to be able to speak a word in his first case, Gandhi came far doing what he believed in. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-115389592903078867?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/115389592903078867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=115389592903078867&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/115389592903078867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/115389592903078867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2006/07/play-review-sammy.html' title='Play Review: Sammy!'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-115037561242771840</id><published>2006-06-15T05:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T06:13:08.590-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Sheesh!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Shouldn't have said it. The moment I said it, I knew I had made a mistake. Sometimes, one says something meaningless which might not be so meaningless for someone else. Worse still, it might hurt the other person. And worst, saying sorry won't change a thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
A couple of days ago, I said something really stupid, thinking it'd be taken as a joke. Only it wasn't. Shucks!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-115037561242771840?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/115037561242771840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=115037561242771840&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/115037561242771840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/115037561242771840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2006/06/sheesh.html' title='Sheesh!!'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-114994466064494248</id><published>2006-06-10T05:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T03:19:32.240-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Daffodils - William Wordsworth</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2843/441/1600/daffodils2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="205" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2843/441/320/daffodils2.jpg" width="292" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
I wander'd lonely as a cloud&lt;/br&gt;
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,&lt;/br&gt;
When all at once I saw a crowd,&lt;/br&gt;
A host, of golden daffodils;&lt;/br&gt;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,&lt;/br&gt;
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Continuous as the stars that shine&lt;/br&gt;
And twinkle on the Milky Way,&lt;/br&gt;
They stretch'd in never-ending line&lt;/br&gt;
Along the margin of a bay:&lt;/br&gt;
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,&lt;/br&gt;
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

The waves beside them danced; but they&lt;/br&gt;
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:&lt;/br&gt;
A poet could not but be gay,&lt;/br&gt;
In such a jocund company:&lt;/br&gt;
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought&lt;/br&gt;
What wealth the show to me had brought:&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

For oft, when on my couch I lie&lt;/br&gt;
In vacant or in pensive mood,&lt;/br&gt;
They flash upon that inward eye&lt;/br&gt;
Which is the bliss of solitude;&lt;/br&gt;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,&lt;/br&gt;
And dances with the daffodils.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;


.... Beautiful poem, isn't it?&lt;/br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-114994466064494248?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/114994466064494248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=114994466064494248&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/114994466064494248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/114994466064494248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2006/06/daffodils-william-wordsworth.html' title='Daffodils - William Wordsworth'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-114974375526535005</id><published>2006-06-07T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T10:46:49.186-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>This noisy world</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There’s just too much noise and clutter in the world. People talk so much man, its crazy!! Sometimes, I wish - For a day, everything would simply fall silent! I mean, one day with no one talking, no phones ringing, no traffic sounds, not even the sound of the fan or A/C in your room... nothing but the sound of silence. Just you and your own thoughts for a day - will be really calming for the mind...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-114974375526535005?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/114974375526535005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=114974375526535005&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/114974375526535005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/114974375526535005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2006/06/this-noisy-world.html' title='This noisy world'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-114831189282097961</id><published>2006-05-22T08:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T03:22:12.556-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Seasons in the Sun</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;‘Seasons in the Sun’ is one of my old time favourite songs. It had originally been written in French in 1961 under the title of "Le Moribond" (The Dying Man), by Belgian poet-composer Jacques Brel and was later translated into English and recorded by Canadian-born singer Terry Jacks to quickly become the largest-selling album in Canadian history at the time.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

‘Seasons in the Sun’ is the story of a dying man, bidding farewell to loved ones who have shared his life. Shortly before Terry's recording came out, Jacques Brel retired, at the peak of his popularity. Fans around the world were stunned, but the composer would give no reason. Finally, the truth was revealed. After a quiet, six-year battle against cancer, Brel succumbed to the disease and died, on October 9, 1978.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Here are the lyrics, some of the most sadly beautiful lines you’ll ever come across:
&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;Goodbye to you, my trusted friend.&lt;/br&gt;
We've known each other since we're nine or ten.&lt;/br&gt;
Together we climbed hills or trees.&lt;/br&gt;
Learned of love and ABC's,&lt;/br&gt;
Skinned our hearts and skinned our knees.&lt;/br&gt;
Goodbye my friend, it's hard to die,&lt;/br&gt;
When all the birds are singing in the sky,&lt;/br&gt;
Now that the spring is in the air.&lt;/br&gt;
Pretty girls are everywhere.&lt;/br&gt;
When you see them I'll be there.&lt;/br&gt;
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.&lt;/br&gt;
But the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Goodbye, Papa, please pray for me,&lt;/br&gt;
I was the black sheep of the family.&lt;/br&gt;
You tried to teach me right from wrong.&lt;/br&gt;
Too much wine and too much song,&lt;/br&gt;
Wonder how I get along.&lt;/br&gt;
Goodbye, Papa, it's hard to die&lt;/br&gt;
When all the birds are singing in the sky,&lt;/br&gt;
Now that the spring is in the air.&lt;/br&gt;
Little children everywhere.&lt;/br&gt;
When you see them I'll be there.&lt;/br&gt;
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.&lt;/br&gt;
But the wine and the song, like the seasons, have all gone.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Goodbye, Michelle, my little one.&lt;/br&gt;
You gave me love and helped me find the sun.&lt;/br&gt;
And every time that I was down&lt;/br&gt;
You would always come around&lt;/br&gt;
And get my feet back on the ground.&lt;/br&gt;
Goodbye, Michelle, it's hard to die&lt;/br&gt;
When all the birds are singing in the sky,&lt;/br&gt;
Now that the spring is in the air.&lt;/br&gt;
With the flowers ev'rywhere.&lt;/br&gt;
I wish that we could both be there.&lt;/br&gt;
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.&lt;/br&gt;
But the stars we could reach were just starfish on the beach.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-114831189282097961?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/114831189282097961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=114831189282097961&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/114831189282097961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/114831189282097961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2006/05/seasons-in-sun.html' title='Seasons in the Sun'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-114805141908070759</id><published>2006-05-19T08:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T03:22:35.433-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Running away..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I like the feeling of being tired in the evening while heading back home on weekdays. Makes me feel good about my day. Makes it a day well spent in my mind. At my new job, I’m a complete novice and hence a bit slow even at otherwise regular stuff. The work hours are already long so there’s that much less space to stretch my own work hours to accommodate my slowness and I end up sitting long hours trying to understand even the simplest of things. But I’m enjoying my life right now. My work is on the lines of what I expected it to be, only better. I’m learning a tremendous lot; and the hectic work schedule helps me keep my mind off everything that I have wanted to get away from for some time now.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Someone recently asked me - How long would I want to stay on in a job that demands these long hours and exerts such high pressure; How long would I want to do this to myself and why? Maybe the real question is – What is that we’re running after? One question that keeps coming right back to stare at you, eh? I really don’t know how to answer this one. Over time, I’ve realized that I’m not really running after something in particular. There’s no point at which someone like me stops and feels happy about getting there. After a while, you just keep running because that’s all you know; that’s all you do well; running becomes a purpose in itself; and you start identifying yourself as a runner. Also, sometimes I feel that rather than running towards something, I’m running away from some of the inherently moribund and depressing aspects of life by drowning myself in the never-ending (and after a while pointless) struggle for more... am not sure if it really is a permanent solution but it’s a quickfire one and for now, am thankful for that much. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-114805141908070759?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/114805141908070759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=114805141908070759&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/114805141908070759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/114805141908070759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2006/05/running-away.html' title='Running away..'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-114442408968103606</id><published>2006-04-07T08:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T03:22:57.750-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Time for a change and a fresh start</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Some time ago, on this blog, I’d cribbed about an exceptionally bad day. I wasn’t enjoying work at office and my motivation levels had been going down. At the time, I had mentioned on this space that apart from the conscious efforts of turning things around my way, a part of me was also hoping for lady luck to smile on me, as she had so many times before. Well, as always, I got lucky again. I recently got the opportunity to work for a startup Private Equity fund and I’m taking it up; In fact, am quite excited about it. Private Equity has been something I’ve wanted to get into for sometime now and I’ve had a certain appeal towards startups since late IIT days so both things coming together is like fucking fantastic (I’m sorry, the phrase just stuck in my mind and it manages to convey the sentiment exactly)!&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

My stint with DB has been short but I think I’ve learnt more in the last 8-9 months than what I learnt in the two years of my MBA programme. For one, I learnt a lot from my boss. Driven, ambitious, demanding and yet, considerate towards his subordinates’ desires to fulfill their own ambitions, Manoj has been the perfect boss and I am glad that he was my first boss. Although I was just a young trainee trying to find my place in the bank, he gave me the feeling that he trusted my intelligence and valued my opinion, which is probably as much you can ask from a boss (apart from a hefty year-end bonus, of course :)!) as a trainee. Manoj also managed to strike a rare balance so that I feared his temper and at the same time considered him my mentor and career counselor within the company. I learnt from him how one can always manage to remain down to earth and approachable no matter how senior one becomes. My other learnings in DB were mostly organizational in nature – partly observational and partly experiential – the key one being trying to undertsand how work, responsibilities and recognition flows between people in a workplace setup. DB also introduced me to the good life – living out of hotels and serviced apartments for months, training in London, workshops in Singapore, corporate dinners and the works – Ah, the advantages of working in a huge MNC are no longer mine.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Joining Blue River brings along with it a kind of nervous excitement associated with new places and new experiences... there is the excitement of being a part of the growth story of a startup firm and there is the nervousness arising out of questions such as ‘Will I really be able to do well in the unstructured work environment of a startup? Will I be able to live up to the challenging world of Private Equity?’ But this nervousness is motivating in nature; it has an element of eagerness to it; it pushes me to put in my best and all in all, I feel good about myself at this point; I feel hopeful and on track towards my goals. At this very moment, life is beautiful :). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-114442408968103606?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/114442408968103606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=114442408968103606&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/114442408968103606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/114442408968103606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2006/04/time-for-change-and-fresh-start.html' title='Time for a change and a fresh start'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-114050135887362949</id><published>2006-02-20T21:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T03:23:20.670-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>All my only dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As a young boy, I used to shamelessly dream and aspire for the heavens, the earth and everything in between. I used to dream of doing well in life, not just financially but also in terms of true achievements that would have made my parents and, most of all, myself proud. I used to dream of ideals like career satisfaction and happiness and sometimes, love. Maybe I asked for a bit too much.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Most would say I’ve had a good life so far. Quite often, the same is my own feeling. While the years have been good to me and my satisfaction quotient has steadily improved, there have also been compromises along the way. Some dreams have come true and some have fallen apart despite my best efforts. As I look back, some late realizations, a few mistakes and yet a few other instances wherein I should have showed some character but instead faltered come to mind and they hurt my pride. Love hasn’t happened in all these years and it certainly doesn’t seem to be around the corner. Career satisfaction is another thing that doesn’t seem to be around the corner. As the years have passed, some maturity (read realization of ground realities) has seeped in and on occasions, the dreamer in me has started taking the backseat. It’s a tad sad but nevertheless, true.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

One of my friends, going through a hard time, recently remarked ‘...I feel this small sadness inside me; the kind that comes when some dreams break.’ Perhaps, there comes a time in everyone’s life when the realization dawns in that not all dreams come true, that some always remain dreams. Perhaps, everyone feels a &lt;em&gt;small sadness&lt;/em&gt; inside of them at some point or the other...&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Nevertheless, I don’t regret being a dreamer (in fact, I continue being one though in a somewhat lesser way) and I’m not blaming anyone else here. I’m just regretting being a flawed individual who might not be able to make all his dreams come true.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-114050135887362949?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/114050135887362949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=114050135887362949&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/114050135887362949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/114050135887362949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2006/02/all-my-only-dreams.html' title='All my only dreams'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-113921263212322786</id><published>2006-02-05T23:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-05T23:57:12.133-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>An old friend comes along</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Recently, in Bangalore, I met an old friend of mine from school days. We were meeting after six and a half long years. While me and most other classmates of mine had taken up the oft trodden path of engineering and software jobs/MBA, Himanshu had been very clear from an early age about joining the armed forces and had accordingly joined the NDA after school. Meeting him after all these years has been quite a good experience. For one, we had so much to catch up on and our conversation made me realize how different our lives have been since we passed out. I mean his experiences over the last few years have been unlike anything I’ve heard of. It also made me realize how much I have changed from school days – the transformation from a shy boy to a young man, relentlessly and aggressively chasing his ambitions while trying to find a purpose in life on the side, was put into perspective in that one meeting with Himanshu. Secondly, it was great to see that although there were times when we ran out of things to talk and there were silences, we were quite comfortable with the silences till something else came up to talk about. I guess time and distance don’t really affect good friendships much, do they?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-113921263212322786?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/113921263212322786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=113921263212322786&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113921263212322786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113921263212322786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2006/02/old-friend-comes-along.html' title='An old friend comes along'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-113861777174233313</id><published>2006-01-30T02:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T23:43:31.633-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Hoping...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;On Friday morning, I got out of bed in a good mood. I remember thinking that morning that the year had been quite good so far (I tend to look at years from April to March rather than from Jan to Dec) and the remaining three months were also promising to hold some exciting things in store for me. As it turned out, my morning mood not withstanding, Friday was one of the worst days of the year. As the day passed, things went from good to not so good, then bad and then worse still by the end of the evening.

It’s strange (or is it really?) that however much I seem to plan out things, my life has always taken it own course – most of the best and the worst of things (and those two categories pretty much cover all the important events) have happened suddenly, without me expecting them to happen the way they did. Thankfully, more often than not, life has been kind to me and as much as I’m planning to get out of the current situation, a part of me is also hoping for something good to happen just out of the blue, as it has happened so many times in the past :).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-113861777174233313?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/113861777174233313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=113861777174233313&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113861777174233313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113861777174233313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2006/01/hoping.html' title='Hoping...'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-113594943825176486</id><published>2005-12-30T05:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-30T05:47:24.106-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>Book tag again</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://originoftheword.blogspot.com"&gt;AK&lt;/a&gt; tagged me to a ‘Books-I-read-this-year’ tag. So here goes:

&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A life lived later&lt;/em&gt; by Anurag Mathur: Yet another collection of poems by an Indian writer. Yet again masterful. Here is a set of intensely written poems straight from the mournful poet’s heart.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Youth&lt;/em&gt; by J.M. Coetzee: For the uninitiated, J.M. Coetzee was the first writer to win the Booker Prize twice. He has also been awarded the Nobel Prize for literature. ‘Youth’, perhaps (am not sure), is his only book which didn’t win any award and yet, it is one of the most insightful investigations into the youth’s mind that I’ve ever come across. I just wonder what his other award winning novels are like. Next one on my reading list is ‘Disgrace’ by the same author.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Interpreter of Maladies&lt;/em&gt; by Jhumpa Lahiri: Jhumpa Lahiri’s first book, a collection of short stories, won her the prestigious Pulitzer Prize. But ‘The Interpreter of maladies’ is more than just an award winning book. It is a collection of your own experiences, your trials and tribulations and triumphs, your observation of other people’s sorrows, how they affect you and your feelings of awe and amazement at the phenomenon that is life. ‘The Interpreter of maladies’ is about you. Simply brilliant.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Namesake&lt;/em&gt; by Jhumpa Lahiri: Absolutely wonderful. Unexpectedly, Jhumpa Lahiri’s second lived up to the extremely high standards set in the minds of her readers after her first book. ‘The Namesake’ is about a Bengali family settling in the US, the identity crisis of the family, the loneliness of a young Indian bride in a strange land, the mothers discomfort at seeing how comfortable her children are in this foreign land, the coming to terms of a young man with his roots. Just go ahead and read it. It starts slowly but once you’re past the first 100 pages, you don’t want the book to end. The themes that Lahiri captures in her writings are very very real; no exaggerations, no unnecessary drama, just life as it is.
Having read the last two books of hers, I’d really love to read a collection of poems by Jhumpa Lahiri.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Bootstrapper’s Bible&lt;/em&gt; by Seth Godin: I’ve had the e-book version of this book for a long time. The three month break after IIML gave me the opportunity to delve into the wisdom of this short booklet that gives off tips on how to start and successfully run one’s own small company. Inspiring. Easy reading too.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ruskin Bond’s Biography: This is what I wrote about this one earlier on this blog:
Came across Ruskin Bond’s biography in a bookshop and being the diehard Ruskin Bond fan that I am, I instantly bought it. It turned out to be quite a good read. Short, simple and bittersweet, it was like one of his own short stories. Ruskin’s parents divorced when he was eight; his father under whose custody he was after the divorce, passed away when he was ten. At the age of seventeen, he left Dehra for London to fulfill his dream of becoming a writer. In a way, he had a sad and hard childhood and it probably set up the themes of his writing: Living in the past - remembrance of love, nostalgia, lament over loss. And yet, there is no bitterness in his answers when he talks about his life in the
biography. As he puts it: &lt;blockquote&gt;Most of my life I have given of myself, and in return I have received love in abundance. Life hasn’t been a bed of roses. And yet, quite often, I’ve had roses
out of season.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Steve Waugh’s Autobiography: Steve Waugh has been admired all over the Cricket playing world, not just for his cricketing talents and acumen, but also for the way he conducted himself on and off the field. His autobiography is about the ups and downs of a life that has observed greater talents than its own and yet has been able to command respect from them too. His thoughts on captaincy, leadership, retirement and life beyond cricket are those of a deep thinker and very insightful. The only disappointment that I have from this book is that it does not do justice to so many of the brilliant innings that Lara has played against Australia. Waugh is all praise for Warne and McGrath and his other illustrious team mates but when it comes to praising Lara, Tendulkar or that brilliant partnership of Laxman and Dravid, Waugh has been stingy with only a few words here and there. Other than that, it’s a good read.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;We weren’t lovers like that&lt;/em&gt; by Navtej Sarna: This is Navtej Sarna’s first novel. Though the theme of the novel is quite good, I felt the writing style lets the promise of the theme down. I wouldn’t recommend this one to others.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Shantaram&lt;/em&gt; by Gregory David Roberts: Highly Overrated. Have already &lt;a href="http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/08/life-lived-later-and-shantaram.html"&gt;written&lt;/a&gt; about it before. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;That’s my list. I’ll tag &lt;a href="http://floatingsun.net/blog/index.php"&gt;Diwaker&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://jayajha.wordpress.com"&gt;Jaya&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://abhijitnath.blogspot.com"&gt;Abhijit&lt;/a&gt; (let me try and push him into regular blogging).&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/li&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-113594943825176486?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/113594943825176486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=113594943825176486&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113594943825176486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113594943825176486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/12/book-tag-again.html' title='Book tag again'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-113351994975765918</id><published>2005-12-02T02:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T03:52:59.376-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>If I could tell you - W.H. Auden</title><content type='html'>Time will say nothing but I told you so,&lt;/br&gt;
Time only knows the price we have to pay;&lt;/br&gt;
If I could tell you I would let you know.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

If we should weep when clowns put on their show,&lt;/br&gt;
If we should stumble when musicians play,&lt;/br&gt;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

There are no fortunes to be told, although,&lt;/br&gt;
Because I love you more than I can say,&lt;/br&gt;
If I could tell you I would let you know.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,&lt;/br&gt;
There must be reasons why the leaves decay;&lt;/br&gt;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Perhaps the roses really want to grow,&lt;/br&gt;
The vision seriously intends to stay;&lt;/br&gt;
If I could tell you I would let you know.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Suppose all the lions get up and go,&lt;/br&gt;
And all the brooks and soldiers run away;&lt;/br&gt;
Will Time say nothing but I told you so?&lt;/br&gt;
If I could tell you I would let you know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-113351994975765918?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/113351994975765918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=113351994975765918&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113351994975765918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113351994975765918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/12/if-i-could-tell-you-wh-auden.html' title='If I could tell you - W.H. Auden'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-113290461506706567</id><published>2005-11-24T23:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-19T15:42:41.456-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry - Self'/><title type='text'>Of...</title><content type='html'>Of unfulfilled duties,&lt;/br&gt;
And unearned rights,&lt;/br&gt;
Of worthless works,&lt;/br&gt;
And stupid fights.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Of loveless affairs,&lt;/br&gt;
And heartless flings,&lt;/br&gt;
Of remorseless apologies,&lt;/br&gt;
And unattached strings.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Of untrue lines,&lt;/br&gt;
And mindless talks,&lt;/br&gt;
Of late realizations,&lt;/br&gt;
And retrospective walks.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Of unleashed potential,&lt;/br&gt;
And an unachieved dream,&lt;/br&gt;
A gushing river ending up&lt;/br&gt;
As a lifeless stream.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Of...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-113290461506706567?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/113290461506706567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=113290461506706567&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113290461506706567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113290461506706567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/11/of.html' title='Of...'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-113213084692724279</id><published>2005-11-16T00:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-17T02:45:16.910-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Consumed by Greed</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Gordon Gekko, in Wall Street:
&lt;blockquote&gt;The point is, ladies and gentleman, that greed -- for lack of a better word -- is good.

Greed is right.

Greed works.

Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit.

Greed, in all of its forms -- greed for life, for money, for love, for knowledge -- has marked the upward surge of mankind.

And greed -- you mark my words -- will not only save Teldar Paper, but that other malfunctioning corporation called the USA. &lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-113213084692724279?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/113213084692724279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=113213084692724279&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113213084692724279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113213084692724279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/11/consumed-by-greed.html' title='Consumed by Greed'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-113172140081293924</id><published>2005-11-11T06:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T03:30:40.523-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Views'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>Men can be nice too</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The other day, I saw this movie called ‘Life isn’t all ha ha hee hee’. Based on a novel of the same name by Meera Syal (writer-director-actor), the film revolves around the notions of love, sex and marriage amongst Indians, as experienced by three Indian ladies living abroad and how these notions change over time for each of them.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

The three female protagonists of the movie represented three different ways of life. Tania, the beautiful, strong and independent lady, the quintessential femme fatale, the complete antithesis of the traditional Indian woman in her outlook towards life, finds how almost all Indian men lust after her, even love her but find her too strong, too equal to be married to.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Chila, the nice but not so beautiful girl, the one who would always keep her husband happy, finds love and marital bliss in the form of Deepak. Or so it seems, for she soon finds out that he’s been having an extra marital affair with her friend, Tania, while she’s pregnant.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Sunita (played by Meera Syal herself), the often seen and always overlooked plumpish Indian housewife in her mid thirties, too absorbed in her family life and getting some additional income back home to look after herself, has a husband who’s forgotten that she’s his wife and needs his love. As she drifts away from her husband, he comes around to realizing what she means to him and finds himself wanting her back.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

All three women stumble upon love, lose it and in the end, realize that the forever-kinda-love is only a disillusionment meant for mushy movies and novels.
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;If we knew where our journeys would take us, we’d never leave, never try, never fall in love.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;With some really mature direction and good acting, the movie definitely impressed me as a good portrayal of the female point of view on the subject matter but I was disappointed to see that towards the end, all that the movie did was show most men as selfish, unfeeling bastards who don’t give a shit about anyone else’s needs and wants. And I’m sure, this is just one such movie. If you’re a regular on the blog world, you would have come across zillions of blogs that express the same sentiment – ‘Ah men, they’re all the same – bastards’.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Being a guy, I know men can be self-centred at times, obsessed with their own goals; and living in their own worlds, they can also be a touch unattached to the people around them sometimes. And yeah, they’re hardly ever the better half of relationships. But that’s just part of the picture, isn’t it? I mean, for one, if you come down to it, not all women are all that goody-goody, innocent, victimized beauties that these movies and blogs would have you believe. Secondly, it’s not that all men are totally characterless, immoral, and always-looking-for-a-f**k-kinda amorous individuals. There certainly do exist men who are nice, intelligent and treat women with the respect and dignity that they deserve. And there certainly do exist men who, behind a tough demeanour, hide a caring heart. And again, they are greater in number than what these movies and blogs would have you believe.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

With all the empathy that I feel for those who have suffered at the hands of some heartless guy, I still have to say this - Goodness is not a function of gender. There are good experiences and bad experiences and to judge the entire male species on a few bad ones would be an injustice to all the nice men out there and also be denying yourself the chance of finding happiness again.&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Nevertheless, good movie - ‘Life isn’t all ha ha hee hee’ is. Watch it all this month on Star Movies (and Star isn’t paying me for this :)).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-113172140081293924?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/113172140081293924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=113172140081293924&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113172140081293924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113172140081293924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/11/men-can-be-nice-too.html' title='Men can be nice too'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-113152350355110958</id><published>2005-11-09T00:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T03:08:36.273-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Vincent</title><content type='html'>Starry, starry night&lt;/br&gt;
Paint your palette blue and gray&lt;/br&gt;
Look out on a summer's day&lt;/br&gt;
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul&lt;/br&gt;
Shadows on the hills&lt;/br&gt;
Sketch the trees and the daffodils&lt;/br&gt;
Catch the breeze and the winter chills&lt;/br&gt;
In colors on the snowy linen land&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Now I understand&lt;/br&gt;
What you tried to say to me&lt;/br&gt;
How you suffered for your sanity&lt;/br&gt;
How you tried to set them free&lt;/br&gt;
They would not listen they did not know how&lt;/br&gt;
Perhaps they'll listen now&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Starry, starry night&lt;/br&gt;
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze&lt;/br&gt;
Swirling clouds in violet haze&lt;/br&gt;
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue&lt;/br&gt;
Colors changing hue&lt;/br&gt;
Morning fields of amber grain&lt;/br&gt;
Weathered faces lined in pain&lt;/br&gt;
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Now I understand&lt;/br&gt;
What you tried to say to me&lt;/br&gt;
How you suffered for your sanity&lt;/br&gt;
How you tried to set them free&lt;/br&gt;
They would not listen they did not know how&lt;/br&gt;
Perhaps they'll listen now&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

For they could not love you&lt;/br&gt;
But still your love was true&lt;/br&gt;
And when no hope was left inside&lt;/br&gt;
On that starry, starry night&lt;/br&gt;
You took your life as lovers often do&lt;/br&gt;
But I could have told you Vincent&lt;/br&gt;
This world was never meant for one as&lt;/br&gt;
beautiful as you&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Starry, starry night&lt;/br&gt;
Portraits hung in empty halls&lt;/br&gt;
Frameless heads on nameless walls&lt;/br&gt;
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget&lt;/br&gt;
Like the strangers that you've met&lt;/br&gt;
The ragged men in ragged clothes&lt;/br&gt;
The silver thorn of bloody rose&lt;/br&gt;
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

Now I think I know&lt;/br&gt;
What you tried to say to me&lt;/br&gt;
How you suffered for your sanity&lt;/br&gt;
How you tried to set them free&lt;/br&gt;
They would not listen they're not listening still&lt;/br&gt;
Perhaps they never will&lt;/br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-113152350355110958?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/113152350355110958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=113152350355110958&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113152350355110958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113152350355110958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/11/vincent.html' title='Vincent'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-113041857396276460</id><published>2005-10-27T06:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T03:56:33.373-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Nice Song - I hope you dance...</title><content type='html'>I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,&lt;/br&gt;
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,&lt;/br&gt;
May you never take one single breath for granted,&lt;/br&gt;
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed,&lt;/br&gt;
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,&lt;/br&gt;
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,&lt;/br&gt;
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,&lt;/br&gt;
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance,&lt;/br&gt;
I hope you dance...&lt;/br&gt;&lt;/br&gt;

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,&lt;/br&gt;
Never settle for the path of least resistance,&lt;/br&gt;
Living might mean taking chances but they're worth taking,&lt;/br&gt;
Loving might be a mistake but it's worth making,&lt;/br&gt;
Don't let some helping heart leave you bitter,&lt;/br&gt;
When you come close to selling out, reconsider,&lt;/br&gt;
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,&lt;/br&gt;
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance,&lt;/br&gt;
I hope you dance...&lt;/br&gt;

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,&lt;/br&gt;
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,&lt;/br&gt;
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,&lt;/br&gt;
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance,&lt;/br&gt;
Dance, I hope you dance,&lt;/br&gt;
I hope you dance...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-113041857396276460?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/113041857396276460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=113041857396276460&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113041857396276460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113041857396276460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/10/nice-song-i-hope-you-dance.html' title='Nice Song - I hope you dance...'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-113025155007845361</id><published>2005-10-25T07:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T09:59:07.333-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>"Sing Me a Song of a Lad That..." by R.L. Stevenson</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,&lt;/br&gt;
Say, could that lad be I?&lt;/br&gt;
Merry of soul he sailed on a day&lt;/br&gt;
Over the sea to Skye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
Mull was astern, Rum on the port,&lt;/br&gt;
Eigg on the starboard bow;&lt;/br&gt;
Glory of youth glowed in his soul:&lt;/br&gt;
Where is that glory now?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
Give me again all that was there,&lt;/br&gt;
Give me the sun that shone!&lt;/br&gt;
Give me the eyes, give me the soul,&lt;/br&gt;
Give me the lad that's gone!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/br&gt;
Billow and breeze, islands and seas,&lt;/br&gt;
Mountains of rain and sun,&lt;/br&gt;
All that was good, all that was fair,&lt;/br&gt;
All that was me is gone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-113025155007845361?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/113025155007845361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=113025155007845361&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113025155007845361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113025155007845361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/10/sing-me-song-of-lad-that-by-rl.html' title='&quot;Sing Me a Song of a Lad That...&quot; by R.L. Stevenson'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-113022770071760939</id><published>2005-10-25T01:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-25T01:19:32.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'>‘And yet, quite often, I’ve had roses out of season’</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Came across Ruskin Bond’s biography in a bookshop and being the diehard Ruskin Bond fan that I am, I instantly bought it. It turned out to be quite a good read. Short, simple and bittersweet, it was like one of his own short stories. Ruskin’s parents divorced when he was eight; his father under whose custody he was after the divorce, passed away when he was ten. At the age of seventeen, he left Dehra for London to fulfill his dream of becoming a writer. In a way, he had a sad and hard childhood and it probably set up the themes of his writing: Living in the past - remembrance of love, nostalgia, lament over loss. And yet, there is no bitterness in his answers when he talks about his life in the biography. As he puts it:
&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;Most of my life I have given of myself, and in return I have received love in abundance. Life hasn’t been a bed of roses. And yet, quite often, I’ve had roses out of season.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;When asked how he feels about his own writing, Ruskin responds: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Amongst writers, I am not one of the big guns. I am not even a little gun. I prefer to see myself as a little pebble lying on the beach. But I would like to think that I am a smooth, round, colourful pebble, and that someone will pick me up, derive a little pleasure from holding me, and possibly even put me in his or her pocket. And if one tires of me, one can always throw me back into the sea. Perhaps a kindly wave will wash me ashore again, and someone else will pick me up.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-113022770071760939?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/113022770071760939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=113022770071760939&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113022770071760939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/113022770071760939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/10/and-yet-quite-often-ive-had-roses-out.html' title='‘And yet, quite often, I’ve had roses out of season’'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-112987544990594299</id><published>2005-10-20T23:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-20T23:17:29.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hope</title><content type='html'>Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.
          – Andy Dufresne , "Shawshank Redemption"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-112987544990594299?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/112987544990594299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=112987544990594299&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/112987544990594299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/112987544990594299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/10/hope.html' title='Hope'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-112970211414167625</id><published>2005-10-18T23:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-18T23:08:34.146-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Life'/><title type='text'>There are days...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There are days when time ceases to exist, because yesterday seems to be the same as today or the day after... and time seems to become timeless.

There are days when the road ahead seems to lead to nowhere in particular and you wonder if you’ve chosen the wrong path after so much of planning and whether you’ve somehow missed the bigger picture while trying to get the little things right.

Sometimes, I reflect back and see how everything has gone almost to plan and yet somehow, the hours, the days, and the years have passed by without any respite from the restlessness within...

There are days when I feel life is passing me by and in the end, I shall be left standing with nothing, still trying to unravel life’s mysteries and wondering what was it all about.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-112970211414167625?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/112970211414167625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=112970211414167625&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/112970211414167625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/112970211414167625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/10/there-are-days.html' title='There are days...'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7288732.post-112961798831291556</id><published>2005-10-17T23:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-10-17T23:46:28.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The laws of the world</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;During my IITK days, I used two laws to explain pretty much everything that was happening or that I thought was about to happen around me to my friends. These were: The law of mathematical induction and the law of averages. It is quite obvious that both were used in different situations and could never be used to explain the same phenomenon. And since it was me who first realized the relevance of these laws to everyday life, I retained the sole right to decide that which is to be applied when and where. Anyways, I’m not gonna get into explaining these laws (they are too simple and quite well known) but I shall take the pains to explain two other laws of the world.

During my IIML days, I developed two concepts of my own. And being the staunchly patriotic Indian that I am, I christened them in our mother tongue, Hindi. I think these shall be relevant to anyone who wants to do an MBA or has already done an MBA but somehow missed these two key concepts of management. These were: The ‘Baap ka raj’ concept and the ‘Chal hat!’ concept.

The ‘Baap ka raj’ was one I used quite regularly, especially in all my projects. It goes something like this: If I’m the guy who does most of the work in the project and if ever there’s a contentious issue where the two of us have differing opinions, then it’s my opinion that’s going to see the light of the day and not yours. Why? Kyonki saale, agar maxo kaam main karta hoon to mere ‘baap ka raj’ chalega na!! Mind you, the ‘baap ka raj’ concept does not deny the others their right to air their opinion or put up a brave argument in support of their opinion, it just retains the baap’s right to ignore that opinion. A corollary of the above is also that if you’re in my territory, then it’s me who’s going to decide how things are gonna run around here. And this corollary applies really well to blogs, as exemplified to perfection by this lady, who calls herself the bitch phd, in an entry where she &lt;a href="http://bitchphd.blogspot.com/2005/07/welcome-new-readers.html"&gt;welcomes new readers&lt;/a&gt; to her blog.

Unfortunately, the ‘baap ka raj’ concept works against you as soon as you graduate out of the MBA and step into the corporate world because you then are at the lowest rung of the ladder and quite obviously in any situation that you find yourself in, the baap’s role is taken up by the other guy. Nevertheless, I am eagerly but patiently waiting for my time to come and my turn to resume the role of the ‘baap’.

The other concept is the ‘Chal hat!’ concept. Unlike the ‘baap ka raj’ concept which is applicable only in situations where there is some form of hierarchy in terms of bargaining power, formal or informal, present between individuals, the ‘Chal hat!’ concept is applicable to situations where all individuals are equal. It says that if you and I disagree at some point of our negotiations, discussion or relationship and there is no way that I can convince you to accept my opinion (including the ‘baap ka raj’ way), ‘Chal hat!’ (and this has to be said with a certain degree of contempt and sneer to deliver maximum impact) is all that what I have on offer for you. This is a very key concept of the MBA world, a world full of mind games. Anybody who does not apply this concept well inevitably ends up being on the other side of its application.

The above two laws are pretty much enough to save your skin during an MBA and even afterwards (atleast I hope so). If applied in the right fashion, they can also take you to the very top... just make sure one thing, when you do get to the top, acknowledge that you got there because, among other things, you were introduced to these two very relevant and useful concepts by yours truly at the very onset of your career. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7288732-112961798831291556?l=nakulmandan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/feeds/112961798831291556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7288732&amp;postID=112961798831291556&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/112961798831291556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7288732/posts/default/112961798831291556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nakulmandan.blogspot.com/2005/10/laws-of-world.html' title='The laws of the world'/><author><name>N.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02527752830770457022</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10894611716207683560'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>