25 May 2009
20 May 2009
1 Jan 2009
Friends Without Faces
Friends With/Without Faces and odd little names.
We sit and we type,
And we stare at our screens,
We all have to wonder,
What this possibly means.
With our mouse's we roam,
Through the rooms in a maze,
Looking for something or someone,
As we sit in a daze.
We chat with each other,
We type all our woes,
Small groups, we do form,
And gang up on our foes.
We wait for someone,
To type out our name,
We want recognition,
But it's always the same.
We give kisses and hugs,
And sometimes we flirt,
In MIRC, we chat deeply,
And reveal why we hurt.
We do form friendships
But why we don't know,
But some of these friendships,
Will flourish and grow.
Why it is on the screen,
We can be so bold,
Telling our secrets,
That have never been told.
Why is it we share,
The thoughts in our mind,
With those we can't see,
As though we were blind.
The answer is simple,
It's as clear as a bell.
We all have our problems,
And need someone to tell.
We can't tell "real" people,
But tell someone we must,
So we turn on the computer,
And to those we can trust.
Even though it is crazy,
The truth still remains,
They are Friends Without Faces,
and odd little names.
30 Dec 2008
New Year Greetings
To all my Y!360 Pals, my other friendz, my relatives and all netizens,
WISH YOU A HAPPY, ROCKING AND DASHING NEW YEAR AHEAD.
Where did the Year (2008) go?
Suddenly it is December......again - and now we realize that with giant strides we started in January and within a blink of an eye, the year is coming to an end!
The Countdown Begins.......................
Let the Blossoms of Yours Dreams Flourish With The Colours Of Hope And Joy!!!
I again wish you all a magical Festive Season filled with Sincere Wishes and Beautiful Thoughts.
Let this new year mark the beginning of a Tidal Wave of Peace, Happiness and Bright Future.
Wishing all A Prosperous New Year.
27 Dec 2008
Lighter Side of Meltdown
Everything about the slowdown need not be depressing. Here's finding humour through logos of these well known companies.
These pictures have been sourced from a mail doing the rounds on the internet. The mail uses logos of well known companies to depict the tough global financial crisis.
And last with a Y!360 BLAST - HA! HA! HA!
26 Dec 2008
16 Dec 2008
Stand Up for the Indian Soldier
Half Man Half Boy
The average age of the army man is 23 years. He is a lad with short hair and tight-muscles who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as a half man and a half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer in the capital of his country, but old enough to die for his country.
He's a recent school or college graduate; he was probably an average student from one of the Kendriya Vidyalayas, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a rickety bicycle/mobike, and had a girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to Rock & Roll or Hip-Hop or Bhangra or Ghazals and a 155mm Howitzer.
He is 5 or 7 kilos lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting the insurgents or standing guard on the icy Himalayas from before dawn to well after dusk or if nothing else, he is at Mumbai engaging the terrorists. He has trouble with spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively, if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional. He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he is told to march. He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity. His pride and self-respect, he does not lack. He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of combat dress: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his water bottle full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own wounds. If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because he's been trained for both.He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed to do so.
He feels every note of the national anthem 'Jana Gana Mana' vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hands from their pockets, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful. Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom.
Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is your nation's Fighting Man that has kept this country free and defended your right to Freedom. He has experienced deprivation and adversity, and has seen his buddies falling to bullets and maimed and blown. And he smiles at the irony of the IAS babus and politicians reducing his status year after year and the unkindest cut of all, even reducing his salary and asking why he should get free rations and rum! And when he silently whispers in protest, the same politicians and babus aghast, suggest he's mutinying!
Wake up citizens of India!
Let's begin discriminating between the saviours of India and the traitors!
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