<?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-32880268</id><updated>2009-11-15T01:59:23.515-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Like That !</title><subtitle type='html'>Exploring subtleties of life and various ideas that cross my mind!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>115</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-6209501484453542773</id><published>2009-11-12T11:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T22:21:13.303-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><title type='text'>Episode 2: I talked to her.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-saw-her.html"&gt;Previous episode&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yawning heavily sitting on my bed after a long day, I write my diary entry.&lt;br /&gt;While recalling my visit to the library, I remember her nonchalant look and my attempt to start a conversation, and rest of the experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thinking on my feet had never been my forte, hence I relied on my snap judgments.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And I snapped, i.e., I lied to her, when she gave me a who-the-hell-are-you look. She's a fresher and I'm a senior, we're not in same batch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Ssshhh," she put her finger on her lips, beckoned me for silence. She pointed at the "Silence is Golden" written at one end of the library, behind me. BTW, we were the only ones in the inner part of the library.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I sat across the table, as she resumed her reading. I picked her notebook and tore a page from it, scribbled a note for her, and pushed it across to her. Seeing her engrossed in the C programming textbook, I got up and walked out. I returned with C programming textbook, just to brush up my fundamentals. I found my note still lying beside her hand, untouched.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;While reading, with the corner of my eye, I looked at the note once in a while. Suddenly the next instant I found her tapping on my head with her pen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"What?" I squinted my eyes, then rubbed my eyes, "Has the attendance been taken?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"What?" She said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Her voice flowed through my subconscious and I snapped out of sleepiness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I'm sorry, just one of my regular dreams."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She giggled.&lt;br /&gt;Why did she giggle? I wondered... do I look funny in my just-woke-up looks? Maybe that's why everybody stares at me when I wake up in the middle of the lecture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"By the way, could you help me out with this?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I asked her a problem from C programming textbook, as my final attempt to make a conversation, while she was leaving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her giggle kept on playing in my mind while writing the diary. A sudden thought shattered the good feeling of that memory and uncertainty set it. I wondered, "How would she react when she learns that I'm the TA for the C programming course?"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/11/episode-3-doomsday-2012.html"&gt;To be continued...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-6209501484453542773?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/6209501484453542773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=6209501484453542773' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/6209501484453542773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/6209501484453542773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-talked-to-her.html' title='Episode 2: I talked to her.'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-5160645203628627234</id><published>2009-11-09T11:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T07:36:18.603-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><title type='text'>Episode 1: I saw her</title><content type='html'>I see her walking down those stairs. She is perfect. I stand there looking at her grace, bouncy hair, gentle smile, until a guy climbs down after her in haste and speaks in a charming voice, "Sorry I'm late." That must be her boyfriend, I think. :(&lt;br /&gt;I walk towards them. While crossing them, I hear her say, "You're always late, bro!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) Good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I se her again, this time at a shopping mall, with her brother. A certain guy walks to them, pleasantly greets her, and I think, "This must be her boyfriend!"&lt;br /&gt;As it turns out, he walks beside her brother and  holds his hand, as if they were a couple!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) Good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see her yet again, this time in a pub, with some other guy I don't recognize. They are talking and laughing and I think, "This surely must be her boyfriend!"&lt;br /&gt;Another girl, probably her friend meets them, and that guy and her friend kiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:) Good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time I see her, she is alone, walking down the road towards library. I walk in the opposite direction, but change my mind and go to library instead, after a couple of minutes.&lt;br /&gt;The library, as usual is occupied with a handful of students, most of them reading magazines. I scan the library for her and see her sitting at a corner seat in the inner part of the library with few books &lt;some s="" books=""&gt; lying on the table space in front of her.&lt;br /&gt;I think, this is it, talk to her; but what if she's busy?&lt;br /&gt;"Excuse me, miss..." and I glance at her notebook, and don't find her name on it. :(&lt;br /&gt;She looks up at me from the book.&lt;br /&gt;"Hi," I raise my hand in an open palm gesture. Her nonchalant look isn't reassuring.&lt;br /&gt;"I didn't mean to bother you, but I saw you reading this book and remembered you were in my batch but in other section, so..." I pause, look at her book, then look at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-talked-to-her.html"&gt;To be continued...&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/some&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-5160645203628627234?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/5160645203628627234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=5160645203628627234' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/5160645203628627234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/5160645203628627234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-saw-her.html' title='Episode 1: I saw her'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-385662748255618005</id><published>2009-10-23T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T22:23:20.747-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='55wordFiction'/><title type='text'>Diwali Sweets</title><content type='html'>I happily picked up the kaju katri mithai (cashewnut sweet) he offered me from a bowl.&lt;br /&gt;"How did you take care of the ants? This is an open bowl, very vulnerable!" I was surprised.&lt;br /&gt;He was prompt, as if it was obvious.&lt;br /&gt;"I simply remove the ants feasting on the sweets in the bowl."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-385662748255618005?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/385662748255618005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=385662748255618005' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/385662748255618005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/385662748255618005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/10/diwali-sweets.html' title='Diwali Sweets'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-5648404728690362170</id><published>2009-10-21T22:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-21T23:16:18.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wallet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/St_4JGI7OJI/AAAAAAAABGM/KvO6fYZL-jc/s1600-h/wallet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 171px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/St_4JGI7OJI/AAAAAAAABGM/KvO6fYZL-jc/s200/wallet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395303713763702930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I never used it until few days ago, actually never wanted to use it. Its like putting all your eggs in one basket. Wallet is convenient but if its lost, a lot is lost; identity card, cash, somebody's photo etc.&lt;br /&gt;Why people continue to keep wallet in their back pocket, an area easily pickable. Front pockets could also carry the wallet.&lt;br /&gt;How do people find comfort sitting with one butt on the wallet?! No wonder their wallets are thinner than mine, even though I hardly carry any cash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - I keep my wallet in front pocket of my trousers.&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - Wallet does have lots of pockets in it, like a shrunken version of a women's purse, to contain almost everything minus the makeup stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-5648404728690362170?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/5648404728690362170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=5648404728690362170' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/5648404728690362170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/5648404728690362170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/10/wallet.html' title='Wallet'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/St_4JGI7OJI/AAAAAAAABGM/KvO6fYZL-jc/s72-c/wallet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-7702808816533999343</id><published>2009-10-17T13:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T10:57:54.144-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='AboutMe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anecdote'/><title type='text'>Relativity</title><content type='html'>This week I visited my relatives' house and in almost every case, the relative who opened the door (was my aunts in all the cases), I found them staring at me for few seconds, then when I greeted them, they smiled at me and welcomed me. Rest everything went good and I had a great time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I looked at the mirror while brushing my teeth and realized the reason:&lt;br /&gt;I hadn't shaved for 3 weeks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-7702808816533999343?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/7702808816533999343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=7702808816533999343' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/7702808816533999343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/7702808816533999343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/10/relativity.html' title='Relativity'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-4014245099476272231</id><published>2009-10-14T09:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T12:04:46.478-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='55wordFiction'/><title type='text'>Blue film</title><content type='html'>My friend asks me, "Would you like to watch the Blue film this friday?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I replied aloud, for others on the table with us, "The blue film! Would they show the blue film in cinema halls."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, starting this friday."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay. So what's the name of the movie?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-4014245099476272231?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/4014245099476272231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=4014245099476272231' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/4014245099476272231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/4014245099476272231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/10/blue-film.html' title='Blue film'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-1442182678102661683</id><published>2009-10-09T13:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T15:56:10.244-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='55wordFiction'/><title type='text'>The Comment</title><content type='html'>My good friend felt dejected because of lack of comments on his latest post. He devised a masterplan to cope with this. He commented on his post:&lt;div&gt;"Nice Post!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Waiting for my next post :( "&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-1442182678102661683?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/1442182678102661683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=1442182678102661683' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/1442182678102661683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/1442182678102661683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/10/comment.html' title='The Comment'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-1306442236258409134</id><published>2009-09-27T22:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T22:59:14.727-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='expansion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='observation'/><title type='text'>Expansion</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SsBQASiEmPI/AAAAAAAABFU/MA8mVWM-spg/s1600-h/normal_expansion.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 136px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SsBQASiEmPI/AAAAAAAABFU/MA8mVWM-spg/s200/normal_expansion.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386393120240081138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It is a well established scientific fact that the entropy of universe is increasing. This is true for Earth as well. Expansion at a rapid rate lesser physical and social space available. Perhaps the Sci-fi notion of colonies in moon and mars might be commonplace in the next few decades!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No. of people with pot-belly has increased in recent times, so has average size of breasts. Weight of school bags has increased, so has the marks students get in board exams! Internet is used by many new people every next day, content on the internet is increasing as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Expansion in human settlements is nothing new, but the expansion rate has increased manifold in recent times. While some own a lot of land, some others cringe and sleep due to scarcity of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Automation in most of our daily activities has in turn seen people taking part in many art forms, i.e., expansion in participation of people, be it as a participant or audience. Parents so happily send their kids to hobby classes, adult professionals form clubs or communities based on similar interests. Another reason for expansion in participation could be convenience due to technology, especially in case of writing (blogs) and photography (digicam &amp;amp; flickr).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inflation, it is said is good for the growth of economy and has been there for a very long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gas expands when given more space to occupy. Most of us are also like that, scattering things here and there if given a large space to stay. In a small room, all the scattering is done in a limited space. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While playing Age of Empires (AOE), I learnt that expansion of one's empire is very important for survival, especially if the enemy is stronger. The enemy takes longer time to hunt and kill when one has expanded one's empire, or vice-versa. Same is true for businesses and associated ventures as well! Expansion means growth.&lt;br /&gt;Can it be said that diseases spread, or expand over a larger no. of people to sustain itself for a longer time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no conclusion of this post, it'll be updated and expanded now and then.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-1306442236258409134?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/1306442236258409134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=1306442236258409134' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/1306442236258409134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/1306442236258409134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/09/expansion.html' title='Expansion'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SsBQASiEmPI/AAAAAAAABFU/MA8mVWM-spg/s72-c/normal_expansion.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-8563587251233632896</id><published>2009-09-25T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T08:58:31.124-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='55wordFiction'/><title type='text'>Skeptical</title><content type='html'>My friend asks me, "What does skeptical mean?"&lt;br /&gt;I hear his faint voice but am not sure if I should respond. He then nudges me.&lt;br /&gt;I unplug my earphones, look at him.&lt;br /&gt;He repeat his question, I ask, "where?"&lt;br /&gt;He points at a comment on his post.&lt;br /&gt;I say, "Not sure."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-8563587251233632896?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/8563587251233632896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=8563587251233632896' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/8563587251233632896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/8563587251233632896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/09/skeptical.html' title='Skeptical'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-8171621599408204360</id><published>2009-09-24T10:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T13:02:33.860-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='okay'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='observation'/><title type='text'>Okay (OK)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SruyxKBzIMI/AAAAAAAABFM/8SKXldDZmz4/s1600-h/okay-sign.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 175px; height: 194px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SruyxKBzIMI/AAAAAAAABFM/8SKXldDZmz4/s200/okay-sign.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385094337026793666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"Okay"&lt;br /&gt;A ready response to any kind of conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK or Okay is quintessentially an American English word, one of the few, that has spread to other languages.&lt;br /&gt;The story of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Okay#Etymology"&gt;origin&lt;/a&gt; of OK is quite interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay is convenient, easy to use, short and suits almost anywhere and everywhere in the conversation, except as response to a question!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember reading "Horn O.K. Please" at the back of Indian trucks, but why O.K. written in between still perplexed me. Finally I found a satisfying answer:&lt;br /&gt;"My logic to this 'Horn OK Please' is: Truck is informing the vehicle behind, 'Horn Please', if it has to overtake. In reply, the vehicle behind agrees and says,'OK'. That's why the fonts are different for these 2 terms." - K G Pawan Kumar, Mumbai.&lt;br /&gt;So simple!&lt;br /&gt;Okay?&lt;br /&gt;Okay!&lt;br /&gt;Okay. :)&lt;br /&gt;Okay. :D&lt;br /&gt;Okay. :(&lt;br /&gt;Okay. X(&lt;br /&gt;Okay. :O&lt;br /&gt;It fits in everywhere !!&lt;br /&gt;Okay, or OK has been shrunk to 'k' in online chats and SMSs. It can't get any shorter!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - Any other word with universal/widespread utility? Fuck.&lt;br /&gt;To avoid using the F word, a person might forcefully use the O word, OK! :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-8171621599408204360?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/8171621599408204360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=8171621599408204360' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/8171621599408204360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/8171621599408204360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/09/okay-ok.html' title='Okay (OK)'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SruyxKBzIMI/AAAAAAAABFM/8SKXldDZmz4/s72-c/okay-sign.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-7633381369264496344</id><published>2009-09-19T09:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T09:24:58.209-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good habits'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='observation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cleanliness'/><title type='text'>Cleanliness is goodliness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SrP7u1AS50I/AAAAAAAABD8/BQQlmSdWEjY/s1600-h/children-cleaning-room_%7Eu16391926.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 173px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SrP7u1AS50I/AAAAAAAABD8/BQQlmSdWEjY/s200/children-cleaning-room_%7Eu16391926.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382922761558746946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;True. Not debatable... or maybe it is.&lt;br /&gt;Clean living conditions, clean neighborhood act as good living conditions and keeps the dwellers in a pleasant mood in general. It also adds to one's good habits, helps keeping good health and gives good impression. Maintaining cleanliness does take a little extra effort but its worth it.&lt;br /&gt;But as for everything, obsession spoils. A person obsessed with cleanliness can't and won't tolerate anything otherwise. Sometimes it does get difficult to stay in presence of such a person. The obsession with cleanliness takes away the goodliness factor.&lt;br /&gt;Interestingly when I start cleaning up my room I enjoy it. Its quite a recreational activity, sweeping, cleaning up the cob webs from all the corners of the room, collecting empty packets and wrappers from under the table and under the bed etc.&lt;div&gt;Easiest and most convenient, which apparently looks inconvenient, way is to always keep things at their properly assigned place. A well organized space (in this case, a room) has maximum chances of remaining clean. A rack for clothes, for shoes, for books, a dustbin for garbage etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Making one's bed after waking up is a good habit and adds to cleanliness and goodliness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before arrival of guests, people sincerely tidy their room, spray perfume/deo in the air, spread clean bedsheet and maybe stuff the closets and cupboard with things, assign kids responsibility of tidying up their respective rooms etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - My mother cleaned up my room when she visited me this week in college... felt ashamed of myself. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-7633381369264496344?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/7633381369264496344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=7633381369264496344' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/7633381369264496344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/7633381369264496344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/09/cleanliness-is-goodliness_19.html' title='Cleanliness is goodliness'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SrP7u1AS50I/AAAAAAAABD8/BQQlmSdWEjY/s72-c/children-cleaning-room_%7Eu16391926.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-5951551738055437998</id><published>2009-09-18T08:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T11:00:36.289-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nickname'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='AboutMe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='observation'/><title type='text'>I am "scientist".</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SrPKacnA0aI/AAAAAAAABD0/6hCbNvIFMTQ/s1600-h/nicknames1.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 153px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SrPKacnA0aI/AAAAAAAABD0/6hCbNvIFMTQ/s200/nicknames1.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382868535343108514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Nicknames, or Petnames... everybody has one, right? They're short, amusing or hilarious at times, and almost everytime called out with a hint of affection and suggests a sense of familiarity.&lt;br /&gt;The origin of Nicknames are the most interesting part, especially if the birth of the nickname was in a friends' circle... one of my batchmates got bald and friends started calling him &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ganja&lt;/span&gt; (bald), one of my friend's surname rhymes closely with DVD, so people call him DVD, which later changed to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dude&lt;/span&gt; as well!&lt;br /&gt;People often ask me why I was/am called "scientist" by my batchmates. Perhaps because of my style of cracking PJs or some of my unique responses during a group BC (or chat), mixing scientific facts with nuances of our daily lives or perhaps because I got highest marks in the first exam taken in IIIT for UG2K5.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever the reason be, Nicknames or petnames make life interesting and evidently show the level of innovation people can be capable of!&lt;br /&gt;Nicknames or petnames are generally shorter than the name or has a more appealing intonation or meaning, or is amusing! For example, my batchmate and friend Manish Kumar Sharma is called MKS or Mux! My batchmate and friend Mohit was called Muggles (borrowed from Harry Potter Series by JK Rowling) which was later changed to Mugglu by others, and it really suits him, such a cute name! :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-5951551738055437998?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/5951551738055437998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=5951551738055437998' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/5951551738055437998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/5951551738055437998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-am-scientist.html' title='I am &quot;scientist&quot;.'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SrPKacnA0aI/AAAAAAAABD0/6hCbNvIFMTQ/s72-c/nicknames1.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-968598247070225378</id><published>2009-09-16T09:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-16T10:21:35.602-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='culture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='AboutMe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='touching feet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='experience'/><title type='text'>Bowing and Touching Feet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SrEelLrbt-I/AAAAAAAABDs/hFoZAu-GRe4/s1600-h/gibsidefeettouch_150.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SrEelLrbt-I/AAAAAAAABDs/hFoZAu-GRe4/s200/gibsidefeettouch_150.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382116653823408098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bowing and touching feet of elders and teachers has been an integral part of Hindu culture. I believe that bowing and touching feet is the greatest gesture of respect one can show. Sadly, I don't feel like bowing and touching feet.&lt;br /&gt;My parents, especially my father often make it a point that I touch feet of elders in our family. And its only for guys to do so, not for daughters, still don't know why! I forget to touch feet because I don't feel like, and prior to meeting the elders, my parents remind me that I have to touch their feet. :D&lt;br /&gt;I have never touched feet of my parents, I don't know why, sometimes I feel guilty about it, other times I feel my parents understand me and I feel grateful about it. I don't have any problem with touching feet but it doesn't come naturally to me.&lt;br /&gt;In a social gathering, I have to remind myself to touch feet of elders of the age of my grandparents, and shake hands with others, else I forget what to do! I become a dud in a social gathering, especially among strangers, and I hate that.&lt;br /&gt;I somehow tend to respect those who touch feet of elders, because its the greatest gesture of respect one can show.&lt;br /&gt;Bowing had been there in other cultures, but bowing and touching feet is a part of Hindu culture and its one of many things I love about Hindu culture!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - It is said in Hindu Culture that if someone touches your feet, you are obliged to bless that person! So beware, don't let anyone whom you don't wish to bless, touch your feet. :D Something of this sort happened in Mahabharata, but I can't seem to recall what!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-968598247070225378?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/968598247070225378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=968598247070225378' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/968598247070225378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/968598247070225378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/09/bowing-and-touching-feet.html' title='Bowing and Touching Feet'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SrEelLrbt-I/AAAAAAAABDs/hFoZAu-GRe4/s72-c/gibsidefeettouch_150.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-5228569678154766996</id><published>2009-09-14T07:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T08:36:57.577-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='AboutMe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mobile phone'/><title type='text'>My First Mobile Phone</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/Sq5i2o2QpoI/AAAAAAAABDk/ac1HNSf6JrI/s1600-h/nokia1100.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 103px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/Sq5i2o2QpoI/AAAAAAAABDk/ac1HNSf6JrI/s200/nokia1100.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381347295571781250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;is no more with me. I had to give it to my mother because she wanted a sturdy model, rather than an expensive and frilly one. Owing to my long time laziness, I didn't buy another mobile phone and now I am mobile phone less.&lt;br /&gt;After my mother left, I missed my phone terribly. I missed the vibration it emanated while it rang, followed by the ring-tone which was self-designed. I missed rotating it between my thumb and middle finger, I missed calling anyone anytime of the day. It was always there with me and for me. It was quite efficient, even at low battery power, or in switched off state, it rung its alarm so that I wake up. It was my first mobile... Nokia 1100... efficient and sturdy.&lt;br /&gt;But, now without a mobile phone, I do like it for some other reasons! I am not disturbed by the useless automatic calls with synthetic voice on the other side, I don't get useless SMSs, I don't get call from anywhere! :D It is I who can call others, so I am in control as to whom I would talk to!&lt;br /&gt;Now I do have to buy a new mobile phone... my SIM card is getting bored! Any suggestions?!&lt;br /&gt;Oh yes, I would like to have a camera (atleast 2 Megapixel), sturdy (i.e., water resistant and could withstand shock like hitting the concrete floor from bed or chair and surviving), FM and MP3 player not really compulsary, budget Rs. 5000/-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-5228569678154766996?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/5228569678154766996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=5228569678154766996' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/5228569678154766996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/5228569678154766996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-first-mobile-phone.html' title='My First Mobile Phone'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/Sq5i2o2QpoI/AAAAAAAABDk/ac1HNSf6JrI/s72-c/nokia1100.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-5658057942490933425</id><published>2009-09-13T02:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T08:14:56.288-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Favorites'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>My Favorite Songs</title><content type='html'>"When I dream at night" - Marc Anthony.&lt;br /&gt;"Breathless" - The Corrs.&lt;div&gt;"Colorblind" - Darius.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"How you remind me" - Nickelback.&lt;br /&gt;"Helpless when she smiles" - Backstreet Boys.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Apologize" - One Republic.&lt;br /&gt;"Walk On" - U2.&lt;br /&gt;"Smack That" - Akon, with Eminem.&lt;br /&gt;"Turn the page" - Metallica.&lt;br /&gt;"Blood Brothers" - Iron Maiden.&lt;br /&gt;"Its my life" - Bon Jovi.&lt;br /&gt;"The Reason" - Hoobastank.&lt;br /&gt;"Numb" - Linkin Park.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Diary of Jane" - Breaking Benjamin.&lt;br /&gt;"Carnival of Rust" - Poets of the Fall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"These Two Hands" - Hana Pestle.&lt;br /&gt;"Layla" - Derek and the Dominos (Eric Clapton).&lt;br /&gt;"Right Round" - Flo Rida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Kal Ho Naa Ho" - Kal Ho Naa Ho.&lt;br /&gt;"Aashayein" - Iqbal.&lt;br /&gt;"Lakshya ko har haal mein paana hai" - Lakshya&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The list would be updated now and then!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-5658057942490933425?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/5658057942490933425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=5658057942490933425' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/5658057942490933425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/5658057942490933425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/09/favorite-songs.html' title='My Favorite Songs'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-8500044978519320599</id><published>2009-09-10T07:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T11:19:47.809-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bathing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='observation'/><title type='text'>Bathing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SqqUnlxSe5I/AAAAAAAABDc/82r7mDs4nr0/s1600-h/20280-Bathing-in-Irpu-falls-0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SqqUnlxSe5I/AAAAAAAABDc/82r7mDs4nr0/s200/20280-Bathing-in-Irpu-falls-0.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380276112722131858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bathing is one of the most vital human ritual and must be done regularly, or on regular basis. Cleansing one's body is very important. Apart from possibility of skin diseases and stinking after a few days, one starts feeling not so good and bathing at once refreshes one's body and mind.&lt;br /&gt;Bathing in summers is fun, but bathing in winters can be a punishment for some (that includes me). Water has inherent quality of a coolant and even warm water can provide relief from cold for only some time.&lt;br /&gt;Bathing should not be a compulsion as much as a fun activity. Many people sing fondly while bathing, and one might even get some useful ideas while bathing (personal experience). Also, since a person is alone while bathing, it could be added to the quality time spent with oneself. :D&lt;br /&gt;Bathing under shower is best, as it requires minimum effort. Bathing under tube well in open is supposed to be exciting, haven't had the pleasure to do so.&lt;br /&gt;Many people start their day with bathing, while some others don't bathe for days (including me). Whatever be the behavior towards bathing, an irregular bather also enjoys bathing.&lt;br /&gt;Bathing is not a compulsory activity and life without bathing isn't much different. But like all the other good habits, bathing helps in maintaining healthy body and mind!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - Swimming doesn't count as bathing&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - Dipping in holy waters polluted over the years might have reverse bathing effect. :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-8500044978519320599?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/8500044978519320599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=8500044978519320599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/8500044978519320599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/8500044978519320599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/09/bathing.html' title='Bathing'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SqqUnlxSe5I/AAAAAAAABDc/82r7mDs4nr0/s72-c/20280-Bathing-in-Irpu-falls-0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-3118805522049216632</id><published>2009-09-09T15:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:32:56.163-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='curiosity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='observation'/><title type='text'>Curiosity</title><content type='html'>Curiosity takes the better of everyone of us at some point of time in life. It took the better of Eve when she ate the apple.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, and almost all of us must have observed this, while sitting in an organized group for a purpose, be it for listening to someone talk or sing or play, or maybe at mess during a meal, a voice/noise is heard from a certain direction and almost everyone turns towards that direction to see what happened... a few times I tried not to turn and look and felt uncomfortable, as if I was opposing my natural instincts.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes in movies I see a character, alone, walking in a dark alley or a corridor with a lantern, or a candle or a weapon maybe, looking for something/someone or following a noise/voice and I wonder, why does he/she have to be so inquisitive about it, he/she would definitely die, the ghost/killer would kill him/her too. Ghosts do use this technique of making sounds or voices to isolate a person and scare them in a lonely place and perhaps kill him/her in the process. :D&lt;br /&gt;Curiosity made Newton wonder why the apple falls down, Galileo/Copernicus about the planetary motions, and Einstein about the nature of light. Curiosity propels progress, retains interest, and make life less boring, even if it means death in the process.&lt;br /&gt;Getting attracted by sounds, light or other form of senses is a basic instinct found in almost all living species. Its a response to stimuli and but natural. Besides, one does discover wonderful things in the process. Moreover, being curious and asking questions is a part of growing. Nature teaches us some things before birth and other things are left for us to discover.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-3118805522049216632?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/3118805522049216632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=3118805522049216632' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/3118805522049216632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/3118805522049216632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/07/curiosity.html' title='Curiosity'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-2718304950627594029</id><published>2009-09-04T05:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T05:34:15.776-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='55wordFiction'/><title type='text'>Don't give up</title><content type='html'>He tries very hard, tells himself not to give up. His body is aching, he is shivering, can barely sit up, but it has to be done. With shaky movements he walks to the loo, and back, feeling dizzy, quickly lies on bed, a blanket on himself. He feels thirsty, looks at his empty bottle,&lt;br /&gt;"Not again!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-2718304950627594029?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/2718304950627594029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=2718304950627594029' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/2718304950627594029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/2718304950627594029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/09/dont-give-up.html' title='Don&apos;t give up'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-1867525340130110518</id><published>2009-08-30T00:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T00:13:36.669-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spitting'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='experience'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='observation'/><title type='text'>Non-sink spitters</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SpomkEZgxVI/AAAAAAAABDM/8Slfx6vVMhM/s1600-h/20821-Clipart-Picture-Of-A-Young-Man-Doing-A-Skateboarding-Stunt-And-Spitting-Chewing-Tobacco-On-The-Ground.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 190px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SpomkEZgxVI/AAAAAAAABDM/8Slfx6vVMhM/s200/20821-Clipart-Picture-Of-A-Young-Man-Doing-A-Skateboarding-Stunt-And-Spitting-Chewing-Tobacco-On-The-Ground.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375651506318001490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ewww... I hate them, no I loathe them, whichever is more intense, actually both !!&lt;br /&gt;Imagine walking on the street, a moderately crowded one and suddenly you see a spurt of red spit out of the mouth of a person about to walk past you, and a red blotch on the street where you might have kept your next step.&lt;br /&gt;I have, and I am really delighted and relieved to say this, never been a casualty under these circumstances. But I fear that someday, I or the spitter might decide to increase pace of walking, then... anyways, the spitters on a locomotive, mostly on a bike scare me more because their spit might fly in an undecided direction...&lt;br /&gt;Use a sink, or toilet. Spitting in a dustbin is also disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;I understand there's a need to spit, once in a while but as far as I can remember, the spitters I have seen casually spit on road while walking, as if spitting was like any other activity for them. No wonder Indian roads remain defaced.&lt;br /&gt;At least think of those poor who sleep beside the road at night, think of the workers who clean the road and the pavements, think of that disgusting feeling you create in every onlooker's mind.&lt;br /&gt;God is watching you non-sink spitters... and I'm sure He also doesn't like this behavior. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - Paan is the main reason for people to spit... have sweet paan, why to have tobacco paan and spit later! Get high on other drugs or smoke it instead! :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-1867525340130110518?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/1867525340130110518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=1867525340130110518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/1867525340130110518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/1867525340130110518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/08/non-sink-spitters_30.html' title='Non-sink spitters'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SpomkEZgxVI/AAAAAAAABDM/8Slfx6vVMhM/s72-c/20821-Clipart-Picture-Of-A-Young-Man-Doing-A-Skateboarding-Stunt-And-Spitting-Chewing-Tobacco-On-The-Ground.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-392324915155016224</id><published>2009-08-27T02:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T02:07:00.100-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='55wordFiction'/><title type='text'>Jai Mata Di</title><content type='html'>Few shops on the way to Vaishno Mata Shrine catch fire due to bursting of gas cylinder. People start chanting, "Jai Mata Di", "Jai Mata Di". In a few minutes, it downpours. The shops on fire burn down by that time but  neighboring shops are saved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-392324915155016224?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/392324915155016224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=392324915155016224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/392324915155016224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/392324915155016224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/08/jai-mata-di.html' title='Jai Mata Di'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-926428453476324085</id><published>2009-08-26T04:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T04:11:00.222-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='55wordFiction'/><title type='text'>Black Magic</title><content type='html'>I felt an eye-lash fall, I picked it from under my eyes, put it on my fist, made a wish, blew it away.&lt;br /&gt;Few minutes later, in lab I found another eye-lash on my desk, wondered if it was a fresh eye-lash or somebody's rejected wish!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-926428453476324085?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/926428453476324085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=926428453476324085' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/926428453476324085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/926428453476324085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/08/black-magic_24.html' title='Black Magic'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-4114904007062338506</id><published>2009-08-25T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T10:24:00.406-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='55wordFiction'/><title type='text'>No, thanks</title><content type='html'>"Would you have some Garlic Breadsticks?" Arjun asks Abhishek. Abhishek sees Akshay standing beside Arjun, smiling sheepishly.&lt;br /&gt;"No thanks, I'm good. Can't eat anymore tonight."&lt;br /&gt;"Alright, truth is, I'm full too. Anyways, good night." Arjun says and leaves.&lt;br /&gt;Abhishek closes the door, sits on his desk, tears open a pack of chips and munches them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-4114904007062338506?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/4114904007062338506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=4114904007062338506' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/4114904007062338506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/4114904007062338506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/07/no-thanks.html' title='No, thanks'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-2415726389248121422</id><published>2009-08-24T06:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T06:31:00.307-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pencil'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='AboutMe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='experience'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='observation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pen'/><title type='text'>Pencil and Pen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SpFFOPxJrEI/AAAAAAAABDE/vVqykRefwBg/s1600-h/pen_pencil.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SpFFOPxJrEI/AAAAAAAABDE/vVqykRefwBg/s200/pen_pencil.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373151941482884162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When in 5th class I got my first pen to write, I was quite excited.&lt;br /&gt;Looking at elders writing with pen made me wonder as to why kids have to write with pencil. A pencil felt kind of inferior in front of and in comparison to a pen. When asked, my mother replied as if she had an answer already prepared, "Anything written with a pencil can be rubbed off with an eraser", and she wrote something, then rubbed it with an eraser, "but something written with a pen can't be. You're learning to write and your handwriting is neither neat, nor stable.&lt;br /&gt;My first pen was a fountain pen. Filling ink in a fountain ink pen was fun, I like(d) Chinese fountain pens. The older I grew, the less I felt the need to write with a pencil, as it had been replaced with a pen. All my daily writing work was now done in pen.&lt;br /&gt;I wondered why did I had to write with a fountain ink pen and not ball-point pen, to which my mother replied, "to get a better grip on your handwriting." Later I tested ball point pen and realized that she was telling the truth. I felt like I could write faster with it but couldn't get a good grip.&lt;br /&gt;At present I use Cello Technotip and it works best for me. I also tried Parker ballpoint and ink pens but didn't really like them much.&lt;br /&gt;After writing for ballpoint pens for some years, writing once in a while with a fountain ink pen feels good, takes me back to those days in 5th class.&lt;br /&gt;Pencil didn't leave my life completely. I used it to make drawings in subjects like biology, and underline in textbooks. I started appreciating pencil since my 9th class because I had lost the luxury of erasing the contents of my writing. Ink erasers are available, yes, and I have used the 'nondust' one, but they work best on ink pen writing and I use ballpoint pens. Besides they don't erase as neatly as a pencil mark can be erased.&lt;br /&gt;Now you may argue in defense of pen that it can write on skin and pencil can't, and I might argue in defense of pencil that one can write keeping pencil upside down, but that can't happen while using a pen!&lt;br /&gt;Well, in conclusion, I use both the pen and the pencil and their combination provides me with a fine range of services.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-2415726389248121422?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/2415726389248121422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=2415726389248121422' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/2415726389248121422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/2415726389248121422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/08/pencil-and-pen.html' title='Pencil and Pen'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/SpFFOPxJrEI/AAAAAAAABDE/vVqykRefwBg/s72-c/pen_pencil.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-8421080293575568766</id><published>2009-08-22T11:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T04:13:05.261-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='55wordFiction'/><title type='text'>The unaware</title><content type='html'>Two guys were sifting through a collection of shorts, looking at the color, feeling the material. One of them said, this one is good for me.&lt;br /&gt;The other guy looks at it, feels the material, finds it stretchable, and thinks, something ain't right, looks around, only to have his gaze land on a board:&lt;br /&gt;"Ladies section"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-8421080293575568766?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/8421080293575568766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=8421080293575568766' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/8421080293575568766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/8421080293575568766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/08/unaware.html' title='The unaware'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32880268.post-6537615780781303697</id><published>2009-08-20T12:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T02:33:55.104-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='suicide'/><title type='text'>Suicide</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/So3VCQgLcgI/AAAAAAAABC8/YYTQ_5u2B0Q/s1600-h/i-wanna-die-suicide-idea.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 188px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/So3VCQgLcgI/AAAAAAAABC8/YYTQ_5u2B0Q/s200/i-wanna-die-suicide-idea.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372184165289259522" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Suicide is a sin, so is the popular belief. We hold in contempt the idea of ending one's own life and look down upon the suicide attempters.&lt;div&gt;Talking to my friend tonight made me realize the depth of the shallowness of our beliefs. We &lt;i&gt;assume&lt;/i&gt; that God doesn't allow one to end one's life, but how do we know for sure that it's not God himself who suggests the idea of a suicide. What if God himself induces this idea in a person's mind that he/she has to end his/her life, instead of God designing a plan of death for that person!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its nothing wrong to end one's life if no hope is left in life. Of course there would be many who would say, where there's life there's hope, and some might only feel, whatever, or who cares! Only few who really care to put oneself in that person's position and understand that the decision to kill oneself is often not an extreme one but the only option left. It is not easy to build one's life all over again, so why not just end it instead of the slumber existence!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The only problem I have with the suicide attempters is that it is often the case that they're running away from one's responsibilities. Shouldering responsibility is never easy but if you're the only one who can do it or is supposed to do it, then you must do it. Suicide should not even be considered in such a case. Hence, for me suicide is not cowardice, running away from one's responsibilities is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Often in computer science before deleting a node, the presence of in-links are checked and if none present, only the the node is allowed to be deleted. Same is the case with database systems where a value can be deleted only if it doesn't violate any constraints! Hence in one's life, if there's neither ambitions/dreams nor responsibilities, one can safely end one's life rather than living for no reason at all. Of course if you live and look for a reason, there are plenty of reasons to life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, instead of kissing death, hug life deeply and hold onto it if there's a reason to, else you may let go.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. - Even Bhishma Pitamaha (in Mahabharata) committed suicide, although many won't agree on it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32880268-6537615780781303697?l=abhisheksainani.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/feeds/6537615780781303697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32880268&amp;postID=6537615780781303697' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/6537615780781303697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32880268/posts/default/6537615780781303697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://abhisheksainani.blogspot.com/2009/08/suicide.html' title='Suicide'/><author><name>Abhishek</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05519234767682408962</uri><email>abhisainani@gmail.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='06315672432501174034'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uJWXOLIAe0c/So3VCQgLcgI/AAAAAAAABC8/YYTQ_5u2B0Q/s72-c/i-wanna-die-suicide-idea.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry></feed>