Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Lesson for the day (where day == yesterday)

Giving is good
Giving what you earned is better
Giving it to the ones who have given to you all your life is the best

some Iced Earth to while away the wasted days

Been listening to the few songs of theirs that I have on my home pc ever since last weekend. This 'vacation' was weird. Can't make up my mind whether it was good enough or not. Might try and weigh the pros and cons a little later maybe. Off the top of my head, I could list out stuff I would've wanted to happen to me in these 4 days, people that I would've wanted to meet and other crib-list-items. Too lazy to do all that now. For now, Iced Earth is the sound in my ears. I need a portable music player... badly. It's making its way up my things-to-buy-on-priority list.
note to self: also on priority list - to finish off '1984' (it's friggin impressive)

Wednesday, October 18, 2006


With a brush of the hand
He wipes the blood off his face
It just leaves behind more sweat and grime instead
With vigour anew he rises
He stumbles but rises again
Once more for all those that he has bled
The principles, the people
His barricaded self, the ultimate steeple

Again he rises
He cares nought of another fall
He'll fight to the end
Till he has ended it all

Again he rises.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Lesson for the day

If even after a month your boss doesn't know your name, you've got MAJOR room for improvement (lightly put)

Monday, October 16, 2006

good sporting weekend

The title says it all. United won on Saturday and then India thrashed the mother-country in their very own sport on Sunday. I said it before, I'll say it again - Good sporting weekend

In United's match on Sat, the first half gave the impression of yet another below-par performance against a low team away from Trafford. Then came half-time and with it came the difference. Off the field, the difference could have been Sir Alex giving the team a piece of his mind (perhaps, accompanied by some flying objects a la shoe-thrown-at-Becks) or anything else that we fans don't get to see. But on field, the difference was one single incidence: the introduction of the Welsh Wizard, Ryan Joseph Giggs. In the second half, United was a team transformed and seemingly possessed. Majority of the second half was played in Wigan's half. Rooney was in a class of his own and that he didn't end up with his name on the scoresheet was perhaps the only blot on an amazing show put up by United. He did hit the crossbar once in the first half, and created Saha's goal with a sublime cross with the outside of his right foot in the second half. But it's that single goal that still eludes him (which I see coming his way soon what with Liverpool at Old Trafford this weekend). United could have finished the match 5-1 considering a few, fairly simple missed chances but nothing to take away the credit for this 3-1 victory which was built in an amazingly powerful second half.

The Indian cricket team rounded off the weekend for me with a good win over England. Was good to see Pathan and Munaf with a lethal opening spell. Pathan's deadly swing was long overdue and Munaf's Man-of-the-match was thoroughly deserved. A pity that our only in-form pacer Agarkar could not cash in on the fantastic start provided by the opening pacers (yes, with Pathan finally managing an average 130kph in this match, I am reslotting him as a pacer). The spinners pulled off a good finishing job although I was surprised to see Powar getting more wickets than Bhajji but then it was the former who dared to fox those Angrezi ballebaaz with inviting curves (I'm talking of the bowler tossing the ball and not of the bowler himself). The Indian openers, faced with chasing a below-modest 126, set about their tasks with some good assistance from Steve Harmison who mistook the fielder at fine leg for the batsman and sent one ball straight to the boundary-line. Of course, Sehwag had to repay that favor by handing over his wicket in the most despicable manner: throwing his bat out at a ball aimed at first-slip. Pathan came to the rescue again, first ball, now bat. He ably supported Tendulkar, who showed the Angrez their aukaat by driving a few sublimely to the boundary. Of course, India is India, so they had to make the target of 126 seem as large as 326 and they duly lost some wickets towards the end. But, Yuvraj, who thankfully didn't lose his head and his wicket in consequence, led us to a fairly deserved victory.

One last time - Good sporting weekend

p.s. In other good news, Rossi took the lead in the 500cc championship this weekend and that sets the stage for a good ending at the final race of the season.

p.s.++ I 'm praying Schumi extends this goodness into next week and pulls off a miracle.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Boy of Anger

I had yet another of my famous fits of rage yesterday. Chosen victim of attack: my brother. The victims are more often than not either (or more than one) of my brother, mom or dad. They get to see a lot of Angry-Me, unfortunately. On the brighter side, now that I don't live at home anymore, they get to see Angry-Me only on the weekends at most. I ain't at home during the week to verify but I'm still willing to bet that the decibel levels at home have gone down since I moved out. I sympathize with them because they've had to bear the brunt of my directionless rage for no particular reason at times. From my wannabe-rebel (definitely without a cause) to depression, theyve heard me shouting through it all. It's a wonder they aren't deaf yet. It's a greater wonder I wasn't been disowned years ago. Seriously, it is tough living with me.
I've always had a major anger hanger on me ever since I've consciously remembered time. It's been a family trait in some ways. If it wasn't, I've made it one. I remember, as a kid, trying to find innovative ways of winning slanging matches with the elders in the house. One fine day, I saw moviefolk on tv expressing their anger by smashing crockery (which always seemed to be conviniently at hand whenever they got angry) with a cry of anguish and a touch of hamming + overacting. I was fascinated by that because after that scene, the plate-smashing dude would generally end up having his way in the movie. Inspired and charged up, I decided to implement this form of protest during my next tantrum. The next time I got angry I armed myself with a steel plate at hand. Little miracle that I should heed the little voice of reason that throwing a steel plate to the ground might be a safer option as compared to subjecting glass or china to the same treatment. Right in the middle (it actually turned out to be the end) of my tantrum show, I sent the steel plate clanging to the floor with all the intensity my little hands could muster and with all the ferocity my face could portray. It was a random moment during the spanking that followed when I realized that not all stunts on reel are as efficient in real.
Through the years that followed, my expressions of rage took new forms. From manipulation to cheekiness to bitterness to momentary vents, all were tried and put to use. It's not something I am particularly proud of, and I would certainly prefer to have stronger reins on my temper. And athough the hot-headedness has certainly reduced in the last two years, thanks to some stability kicking in, it does hit a vein when I think about the hard times I've put my own people through during my rage rides.
To each one of them (if they ever read this) - You'd better forgive me or else... grrrr...

Tragedy on Lap 37

The cameras catch glimpses of thick smoke cloud
My heart-rate rises with the clearing white shroud

To my dismay, it makes way for the colour red
To my horror, it's the car, which from the start, has led

To them, the king, now, is no more than a wraith
But I still believe in miracles, I still have the faith

Monday, October 02, 2006

WIll she?

She asks me all the time why I'm alone
I wonder if that's concern or humour in her tone
She's not as old as me
I'm not as bold as she
Her past lies hidden from me in her own
Gone are the times when together we were never alone
I need to know your yesterdays, the joyous and the gory
Sit yourself down, darlin', I'll listen to your story

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