15/11/2010

Tweetie on her horse

New Project

felt the first touch of the divine yesterday :)

India's BHEL sees FY09 sales at $7 bln - chief | Reuters

India's BHEL sees FY09 sales at $7 bln - chief | Reuters: "NEW DELHI, Jan 8 (Reuters) - India's Bharat Heavy Electricals Ltd (BHEL.BO) sees sales in the year to March 31 at $7 billion, its chairman and managing director said on Thursday. 'We expect sales growth between 25 to 30 percent for this financial year. We expect similar growth for the next three years,' K. Ravikumar told reporters on the sidelines of a business conference.
He also said the firm would invest 48 billion rupees by 2011 to raise capacity to 20,000 megawatts from 15,000 megawatts. (Reporting by Manoj Kumar, Editing by Mark Williams)".

Got to build something that can search these kind of news items and automatically post entries into a forecasting system for forecasting stock prices.

Rhythms of Siddhagad !

Deep in the wilderness, lost from the skies
bunch of fifteen, both girls and guys,
walked through mud, jumped on rocks,
enjoyed with friends and their talks.

Carrying clothes and sleeping bags,
Along with water, mats and snacks,
Crossing rivers and white water springs,
They made their dreams fly on wings.

Four macho men with wives in tow,
Jumping over rocks and the shits of cow,
Tagged along with the other seven,
Aiming to visit Siddhagadh heaven.

Sweet little rivulets and big waterfalls,
Roosters and chicks in mud-walled chawls,
Green wide paddy fields atop the hills,
Sceneries to be converted into some stills.

Leaving home in haste at six in the morn,
Bathing was a privilege used by none,
Two white waterfalls showed some respite,
Drenched to the toe, oh! they were a sight.

With WHOWs and COOOL the journey had started,
With oohs and aahs the journey they halted,
The stones with moss raised their plight,
But the mountain top clouds were a delight.

Lunch was thepla with chutney and thessa,
Inside a temple with Shiva and Ganesha.
Wet clothes and the cold breeze on top,
They wished the shiver and chatter to stop.

"5 minutes more" was the punchline of guides,
But the trekkers were neatly taken for rides.
Still they forgot and forgave like a sage,
when they got a house to stay in the village.

Nehruji, Gandhiji and the country we pride,
Toads and the temple with flowers on the side,
Musicians, ghosts and Gandhiji's sticks,
All made entry into the story of the geeks.

Maggi and soup and pasta served for dinner,
Helped the foodies struggling to become thinner.
Tired souls slumbered in sleeping bags on mats,
Ghostly souls chatted and played with rats.

The night was godly in the minds of the freaks,
But every one feared the blood curdling shrieks.
Dawn brought the doodling roosters alive,
Noon saw the trekkers down climb strive.

Batata-wada

Peter was slouching on his desk resisting all attempts from Kromanyev.
Kromanyev:(Frustrated) We must evacuate right now
Peter:(Looking up from his desk) I am not leaving these children here to die, you know.
Kromanyev: But you must understand, by staying here you are only inviting danger to yourself
Peter: I dont care. I just can't leave them like this.
Sankar: Peter, I think he is right. We must leave, or else we will perish with these children
Peter: You too? Oh common... You have helped me in my research for so long, and yet you dont have any trust, any confidence in me? I always felt that you loved this work just as much as I do. How can you desert all this now.
Sankar: No Peter, I love my work as much as you, but frankly I dont think we can achieve anything in such a short duration. The cells will burst anytime now. And if even a single nuclei meets the air its going to wreck havoc. And you know that.
Kromanyev: And if you die then I am going to be held responsible for the security lapse. you must come with me right now.
Peter: Oh shut up shut up... Both of you, just thinking of your own selves. Look at these children. Can you sleep at night even if you stay alive. Wont these faces haunt you day and night. You go if you can stand it. I will not go without curing these children, you know.
Kromanyev: But doctor...
Peter: Just leave

(6 months ago)

Peter: Martha!! Martha!! Where are you?
Martha: In the kitched dear.
Peter: HE HE! Guess what! You are looking at the new head of research for National Food Foundation. Tang da-tang.
Martha: O My god!! You got a promotion. Mmmmmm. I love you.
Peter: Mmmmm. I love you too.
Martha: All your hard work finally paid off. So, where do we go for celebrations?
Peter: Oh well, Sankar and the whole bunch have made some arrangements for a party, you know. We have to be there at the Gala international by 8. So get ready.

(On the way to the hotel)
(Peter is humming...)
Martha: So are we still going to stay here in Rahili or move out?
Peter: Hey... The Food Foundation is here. How can we shift? In any case, dont you like it here? Such nice villages bordering this town, such nice people around this town, you know. What's bothering you here?
Martha: I know! But still this is not the best part of Cremnick. I want to see all the nice places of Cremnick. You know I have not been to so many places, and after marriage I have just stayed with you.
Peter: Yeah right. Dont start again. Tonight's the big night, you know. And what's there to see in Cremnick. Its a small provicial country. You have already seen the two biggest cities. There's no other bigger city than yout birthplace you know.
Martha: Hmmmm..
Peter: Oh ok... Cheer up... You know what. We will go on a vacation once my project is over.
Martha: Hmmmmm.... Hey, there's Geeta. Sankar and Geeta look happy. I adore these people.
Peter: So do I, you know.

(About 3 weeks later)
Sankar: Rachel, boss is calling you. Seems to be in a foul mood today.
Rachel: Why? What happened?
(Sankar gestures unawareness)

Peter: Why are these tests not completed? They were supposed to be completed last week.
Rachel: I... I... I was on leave.
Peter: What the hell for?
Rachel: I will complete them today. I am already halfway there.
Peter: Deadlines. Deadlines Rachel. Deadline. We need to meet those, you know. Please complete it ASAP and let me know the status. No going home without that.
Rachel: Right boss.
(Rachel leaving)
Peter: Oh and hey, am sorry for shouting at you.
Rachel: Not a problem.

(Outside)
Rachel: He kroma dear. How's you... mmm Those meaty shoulder's lloking extra meaty today. Did 100 extra push-ups eh (winking).
Kromanyev: (blushing) O common. Just do your work and let a honest man do his.
Rachel: C ya

Kromanyev: Boss, there's some press crew waiting outside. Would you like to see them?
Peter: Ask them to wait will you. Am just finishin' up.
(Kromanyev nods and leaves)

(after a few minutes.. outside the building)
Press Crew: So what is this project all about?
(shrill voice) What's the budget?
Peter: Hi!! Good morning. We at National Food Foundation are researching on a new way of modifying farm production. If you ladies and gentlemen are aware, all of us contain DNA's that give us our individual self in the living world. The deoxy-ribo-nucleic acids as these are called, are basically chains of protein molecules that define which hormones get secrete d more and how it affects our bodies. Same holds true for plants as well. If you look at this picture over here, the DNA is like a set of spirals interlinked.
(Shrill voice): Are these from twins??
Peter: Oh no no.. This is actually one set of DNA from one living being. These are not twins. Well, so as i was saying, these links are what interested us and we are trying to find a way to play around with these links and develop farm produc4e that is better tasting and faster yielding, so that the food shrtage is eliminated.
(Lady from press): What's the budget you are looking at?
Peter: Well this is all experimental stuff. And Govt has not yet declared any budgets. But we have got a sponsorship from a well know fast food giant to produce potatoes that are perfect in shape and size with as little variance as possible. Since its a privately funded project I can't really expose the budget.
Kromanyev: And that would be all for today. Thankyou gentlemen. Thankyou. No please, no more questions. The doctor has a lot of work.


The test had been successful and the first test crop on earth was sowed on 6th August 1978. Ofcourse there had been a simulated test in laboratory conditions, but this was different as it was open to environment and natural soils. Peter and his team had been monitoring the growth for the last couple of weeks.
On 23rd September, a group of young children had bunked school and while roaming around had gone near the potato fields. The potatoes had probably charmed them, and they had eaten a few after burning a fire. Peter's monitoring team had caught hold of them after seeing the fire. And while these children were still being chided for stealing, their hands and feet started trembling. The tremble was more than what could be caused by the chiding from the team. And that is when it was discovered that Peter had unleashed what was possibly the most dreadful viral attack. The potatoes although transformed in shape looked better but they had become unstable and had been attacked by a virus. This virus was fast replicating in the children.
On 24th September after a full night of testing and re-testing, Peter had found that the nuclei of all the muscle cells had the virus in them, and the increased replication activity and the heat it produced were going to burst the cells. The virus had become resistant to human immune system through these chain of events and was now fatal to any human being who would come in contact with the virus through air,water or any other means.

Sankar: Fine. I will stay with Peter. But I still can't figure out how or what we can do to save these children now.
(Kromanyev leaves despaired)
Peter: We need to revert the effects Sankar. Whatever we need to do to achieve this, we must do.
(Peter's Mobile rings)
Peter: Hello. No I can't come. No you must leave without me. Try and understand, I love you too, but thisi s my duty. These innocent children are my responsibilities. I have to stay. No. No. No Martha, you must leave. Don't you... What.. No... hello.. helloo... Oh God damn it. Okay, so first we get a list of all the changes we did in the potato and try and reverse it. Then we use the same methods and try and reverse the imapct of the kids. Right?
Sankar: Hmmm... Will it work? I mean wha about the acids, the high rpm's that are required for the spread. How are we going to achieve this with these children.
Peter: No we dont follow the exact same process, we will make another potatoe that will fight this virus.
Sankar: Huh... fight virus? how?
Peter: I dont know. We need to do it. Let's get down to work.

Kya kahein..Zamanaa kharab hai...

Behind the firewalls of my computer, there once lived a document whose life had seen a lot of time pass by. A lovely enthusiastic document it was, efervescing with energy, it always bubbled up on the list of my virus protector. Frankly, the virus protector is a misnomer. He is not the protector but the villain of our story. Weilding a sword that keeps updating itself with only God knows what powers, powers that are out of this world, the villain keep roaming on the streets of my computer looking out for the downtrodden. Our docuement and his friends and beloved remained in utter scare of this monster.

Although it was not like this always. It's not long, I remember seeing the document and his beloved dance to the tunes of keystrokes and sending musical notes to the listeners. They had the whole city to themselves and used to eat and dance and drink and dance and flirt and dance. Oh! it was so lovely looking at them. And I can never forget the day when they startedtheir family, their first child. It had a body lke the horse, so strong, and yet the sagacity of a wooden toy. No one could have fathomed its depth from the outside, but it had hidden inside itseld the talents that could blaze a city to its glory. They had named him Trojan... A dear Trojan it was, for it never left my side.

But then came this monster clad in the garbs of a protector. The fury in his eyes made my dear boy cringe in his bed. Mama and Papa could not together lessen his torment, for they themselves were unable to hide their fears. They tried to hide. Run.. And to keep their types alive they relicated as fast as they could, but the sword and the power were just too much. The baby Trojan was split in half and had no time to cry out. The document and his beloved were wiped out as effortlessly and cruelly as a frog catches its prey. Ohh... The empty streets of my computer stand alone. Lone survivors of the one-sided war.
Kya kahein... Zamaana kharab hai....

My Vacation!!

The advantages of traveling in a train over taking a flight are numerous. You get to wallow in the languid comfort curled up with a book as the scenic kaleidoscope passes you by. In those lazy hours you get to do a lot of people gazing. People boarding and alighting. Proud parents traveling to join their newly employed son, stationed in a city they are traveling for the first time to, perhaps. Patients, leisure travelers, routine travelers, people with hope gleaming from their eyes, people harried by the hardships of life, people longing to meet their loved ones, people who have seen their loved ones off on a long journey out of home. The bedlam, the whiffs of sweat, the smell of fresh paint on the platform walls concoct a heady brew that reminds you that you are finally free and on a journey that takes you back to life.

I dont think there is any body in this world who would not be happier if certain thinngs shape up in a better way than they are presently. And I guess there will be only rare few who are entirely happy with the state of affaires at hand.

But the muslim muftis have made a profession of whipping up each single inconvenience as huge injustice to the whole community and inseminate hatred by portraying smallest of issues as a instutionalized pogrom against the kaum.... Thats what I sensed when I travelled with this deoband mufti for 30 hours...

Indi Go

There are low cost air lines. And then there is Indigo. They make you clean your seat. That too they wake you up midway in the flight to clean up your seat.

Indigo.... Think twice before go...

Lohgarh Fort

Of late I have been going on a lot many trips and treks to see nature and feel life. There are only a few things one can do when staying in Mumbai all alone. Go to a movie (or malls) with friends, booze or go out on treks. The location of Mumbai on the geographical map of india is very well suited for the last. The other two ofcourse are there because of Mumbai's rank in the Indian economical map. Contrary to popular belief that Mumbaites dont have any time and lead really busy lives, you can see hordes of Mumbaites going out on trips and treks over the weekend. Infact the routes leading out of Mumbai become jammed on Saturday's owing to the mass exodus.

My last trip was a trek to the Lohgarh Fort. On the top of a hill in a place about 15 kms from Lonavala, this beautiful fort was built by Shivaji and was considered to be impregnable in its time. Now I know why.

The trip was organized by Soni, the head instrutor at the gym my friend Shashank goes to. Shashank and I have been going on such treks for about 3-4 months now. Our first trip together was a night trek to the hill which looked like a thumb. The view from the top of the hill was amazing in the early morning sun. Sadly we did not have a camera to capture the beauty. Anyways, this time we were prepared. Shashank's new moto razr can take really good pics.
We had to reach the gym early morning at 6:15 on Sunday. I stayed over at Shashank's place saturday night so that we could reach the gym early. Even with our best efforts we could manage to reach the place at around 6:40. But to our surprise only half the people had come till then. I met 3 gym instructors. Soni, the main instructor, with a pefectly built body was very stylish. He had his wife and cute little daughter coming in as well. Deepak was a dark bull kind of a guy. He came with another lady (forgot her name) say lady of deepak. She had a different kind of a face but was very bubbly and street smart. The third instructor was lanky and had a girl friend stowed in as well which I came to find out later. His girl friend was small and dark, but with a deadly figure and walk.

Other than these people there were 3 more guys and 2 more girls. One was a fatty (motu) who had a car of his own, which was used along with the Tavera for transportation. Motu had a huge bag of his own stowed away in his car which had almost everything, including a huge umbrella. Then there was one guy who is doing hotel management somewhere in cochin and is here in Mumbai on a training. Dont know much about the third guy, because he was hardly noticeable. But found out towards mid of the journey that he also could be charming. So lets call him Mr Charming. Now out of the two remaining ladies one was a perfect match for motu (Moti) except for her colour which was atleast 4 shades darker than motu. But later we find out that dark or light doesn't matter much when you have comparable weights. The last lady was a slim girl who kept giving glances to me. I found out towards the end of the journey that she has been doing this with Shashank as well. Lets call her Miss Glance.

So we started on our journey in the Tavera and the Zen, after a long wait and a cup of tea, at around 8:30. There were just one too many people to fit into these two vehicles, but somehow we managed. Moti, Deepak and Lady of Deepak cramped into the back cabin, with Moti occupying one full seat and Deepak and his lady sharing what was meant for only two buttocks by somehow keeping three. As the journey started, Moti who was later rechristened as Radio Mirchi started abusing our ears using her mouth. And slowly everyone joined in in the masti. Looking at the enthusiasm in the crowd and the way they all mixed up, it was difficult for me to grasp the limit of dearthness of my societal skills. Shashank probably would come in a close second after me if we were to be ranked according to our pathetic societal skills inside the Tavera.

So after much hullabaloo we finally managed to reach a place midway where we were allowed to rest our lower abdomens and give some work to the upper abdomens. I mean we halted at a petrol pump cum food court. Took some snaps, talked to near and dear ones and then restarted on our journey.

Trying out color

This is the image that inspired me to take my next trip..

No, I am not going to talk about the trip here, because it was a sort of wash-out.

And no, I am not talking about the model here, 'cause the sketch does not speak true. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental :), not due to the best effort of mine.

All I wanted to say was,now trying my hand at crayons n oil pastels for the first time. Mmm, first time since class 3 maybe. And it is so so difficult ! No wonder all those drawings kids make in prep classes are ssso on the messy side. All those colors, they just dont appear where you want them to .. they start overlapping everywhere ! And then there are no erasers to rub them off; at least I didnt have any..
So the first time I tried an experimental A for Apple, it looked like a blob of red, but thats it. Then i moved on to a B for beach ball. I am pretty sure when I did this stuff way back in class 3 I did better :D

ok so I improved a bit, ;) now I am on H for holiday, which is this pic .. but then theres a lot of way to cover .. so if u know any really really good websites for this, then do tell me !

n do you know, a small pack of wax crayons from faber-castell costs only rs 5 !

stock report

two years.

three contributors,

who have, in this period,

worked with 5 different companies,

lived in six different cities.

50 measly posts.

Thats like the productivity of MBAs for you ! ;)

Whats an MBA that cant even tell some tall tales ?

Out of the movie

I am trying my hand at painting now. This one's in the making. My handycam has a pathetic resolution, so the pic is not very clear. I hope to comeplete this in another months time. [:D]

eye see

The eyes ..

SafePack (TM)

The Indian Post Office Amendment Bill, 2006.

For people who still might not know what this means, it states that India Posts, the central government’s postal service, will have the monopoly to deliver all letters weighing up to 300 gms across the country.

In effect, it will be illegal to use a courier service of your choice to send across any sort of mail. Urgent business communication, last minute applications, whatever. Time to destination be damned, assurance of delivery be damned.

Is it true ?! You ask yourself. Maybe you rub your eyes a little in surprise. But then you look at other recent happenings .. Reservations in elite educational institutions. Reservations in private sector jobs. Suddenly this monopolistic bill seems trivial, just a peg in the whole scheme of moving towards an inefficient, uncompetitive enterprise.

Ah, who cares !

I just want to evaluate - What would be the market size for 'SafePack' (a sturdy protective envelope for sending letters across) ?

And the best part of the deal is, it would weigh exactly 301 grams. Hey, presto - you are above the Law!

Now you can courier to your heart's content - they charge you the equivalent of 500gms minimum per each letter anyway, so this aint gonna cost you any more.

Except for SafePack, and that will be available to you at a discount, depending on my arrangement with the courier company.

So welcome to the world where you stay assured of the safe delivery of your correspondence. On time; and no waiting at unmanned counters . (err.. which were supposed to be manned, we are not talking about automation here. Not in India post; not yet. )

Get SafePack today ! Available in three different colours: Red, Burgundy and Maroon. With a special limited Burnt-Sienna edition mega-pack of Six for the price of Five! The more you courier, the more you gain!!

And oh, if you are pally with someone who can move a bill in the parliament against competition in the business of envelopes weighing 301 gms, do let me know.

Cobainish Detachment

When my Girl friend asked what is it in Lucky Ali that you like so much, I did not have a ready answer. To further complicate the affairs at hand, she said, a lot of the songs that he croons are the same soporific love ballads as the sonus and the ashas of the game will sing. Later during the dinner I came to realize what it is about Lucky that makes his love ballads lot better than other mushy crooners?

A lot of his lyrics are fluffy and dreamy. Yet only few of them are chocolaty and candy-floss. Some of his songs about love are very passionate, yet none of them border on insanity(even when he sings ‘paagalpan kii siima kya hai’). They always very much are sung by a person who is in absolute control of his emotions, with a definite coat of pragmatism. Even his songs with the romantic airiness are rendered in a groovy voice that is inherently detached. That is the insignia of a happy man who is relishing his moment of being in honest love. Love that is a commitment but not a bondage. Even when they are not anthems of unadulterated bliss, they never hint the incapacity of the man to deal with the turmoil of nascent love.

The sense of detachment in his voice is very Cobainish. Remember ‘My girl, where did you sleep last night?’ May be it is the gifted voice that wafts in a sense of unbounded freedom, even when they are lamenting for their love.

good morning

Woke up today morning with a young early-summer sun in my face.

It felt different. The birds were chirping. Could distinctly hear at least ten different bird sounds. Plus an occasional squirrel, too.

Suddenly, childhood memories started flooding by. It was so much like the days when we had summer vacations.

It was only a few moments later I realised why it felt so good.

There was absolutely no sound of traffic.

IQBAL BALLE BALLE

Munaf Patel is not the quintessential Indian cricketer that you see. He is rustic and uncouth with a dialect heavy accent, yet with a passionate fire in his eyes to excel. His ruthless pace and piercing sharpness, not only ushers the much awaited speed-machine into the growing Indian pace brigade, it also firmly marks the coming of age of the hitherto marginalized economically backward villagers into the mainstream of Indian cricket. At this very moment it is hard to overlook the similarity of his story with that of Iqbal, the fantastic portrayal of the triumph of perseverance and hope, over the daunting odds in the big bad world of Indian cricket. Not long before, a berth in Indian cricket was the bastion of the deals of dalmiyas and the power play of the pawars of the business. Rife with regionalism, it scarcely inspired the youth from such remote corners to strive and make their mark. That thing might not have changed entirely. But the irrfans and the munafs are ample testimony to the fact that the times, that are certainly a’changin. That is very encouraging for Indian cricket, for the longer these fiery youngsters keep their faith, the more is the chance that we discover new world-beating talent. The pinnacle of the pursuit for the cricketing youth from various corners of India is uniform, a coveted berth in the Indian team. The examples of Munaf’s and Irfan’s will keep the hopes alive for these youngsters and will encourage them to hone themselves to deliver for India.

The media has had an undeniable role to play in the ushering of many of these changes in Indian cricket. Stronger and well circulated coverage of the achievements of various players at regional level and the public analysis of selection rationale has certainly helped the selectors, by keeping them informed and vigilant. At the same time the media should not over-sensationalize the achievements of such raw talent. Munaf has certainly a long distance to go, to discipline himself a lot more so as to mature to the level of the Akrams and the Lilees. (Just look at the statement: A storm called Munaf Patel rocked England's cricketing juggernaut in Baroda today, and England's batting ship was left floundering)

A definite breeze of change is sweeping Indian cricket. The office bearers are becoming increasingly accountable and responsible with a national vision. Young talent is forcing the well-entrenched seniors to re-invent themselves to earn their places. The 'I-am-indispensible' haughtiness is being replaced by 'Let's prove ourselves' humility. The media and the advertising agencies will do well not to hijack such emerging talent in their early rawness.

Death of Internet

Google, succumbing to the pressure tactic of Chinese government, is an ominous portent for what the future holds for the free spirit of internet. The internet thrived because of its free spirit, because of the independence it allowed the users to publish their mind. And search engines were the means by which this information was made available to wider audience. Of course some people used internet for not so good purposes like the militants sending encrypted mails and images. That probably necessitated some amount of overt censorship of the freedom, where the activity was unqustionably wrong. (I beleive exploiting internet to spread the network of terror is undeniably unethical). But disallowing a certain section's voice to be suppressed because of the pressure from a hegemonic behemoth, certainly hints that the days of unbridled freedom of information over the internet are numbered. One section's propaganda is another section's truth. And I beleive marginalising the voice of a section because of its economic incapacity, is a sharp reversal from the philosophy of internet that we grew up with.

Google, which was a torch-bearer of the spirit of freedom, with its mega-assortment of free to use tools, is increasingly becoming a shrewd corporate entity, as its grip over the internet becomes tighter. As it increasingly is becoming indispensible on the web, its image of a maverick internet company, managed by a set of magnanimous nerds is sharp becoming obsolete. What is unfolding may not just yet be a sinister plot to colonialize the web, but its certainly disturbing. Once it fully grows into the Walled Box that it is modelling itself to be on the lines of Microsoft, may be some other phoenix will rise in the web sphere to give voice the economically unviable section of the mankind. But the question that still remains how long will the free spirit of such entities be intact before snowballing into the greenbacks of greed? How long is it before the capitalistic intentions of seemingly innocuous web-entities fatally jeopardises the spirit of freedom, with which the internet thrived?