<?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' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596505144070637791</id><updated>2011-04-21T22:09:30.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So?</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jeetu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16341864779807295380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596505144070637791.post-4229549453564992488</id><published>2007-01-30T11:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T11:38:23.828-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dubai - ice cream</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RdJfOAAs3GI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Aqf_bFfCAW0/s1600-h/baskin+fubai.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RdJfOAAs3GI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Aqf_bFfCAW0/s320/baskin+fubai.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031188427852012642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere you look now-a-days you're bound to come across something about Dubai. Someone from Dubai is always trying to buy a football club or major companies. Quite simply, Dubai has exploded onto the world scene with a lot of promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, this whole thing seems to be too good to be true. Dubai is more like an ice-cream than anything to me. Right now its all savoury and appealing and tasty, but its bound to melt or be totally consumed one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nearly every alternate day you hear about a new project...some 90-storey building or an underwater hotel. The expansion is simply phenomenal. I always wondered; where on earth does the money come from, and then I saw this article in the news paper that Dubai will soon be borrowing over 10b $ to cater to its growth. "Damn", was what came to mind, even though I haven't got a clue about economics, money lending and whatnot, that amount is a LOT, and it sure is going to be hard to repay loans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.tooheyworld.com/images/uploads/hydroatnight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.tooheyworld.com/images/uploads/hydroatnight.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so, for just one moment, I considered; what if this whole thing didn't come off as the government was expecting. What if people didn't flock to the emirate and investors never got the buildings or facilities they demanded for on time. Quite simply, these people and investors would lose interest and also warn their peers against making an investment here, for their own good. Then, debts go unpaid, resources are wasted, jobs and salaries are going to be cut, and a plethora of other circumstances that my untrained mind cannot perceive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This whole; people staying away from Dubai, seems like a minimal possibility, but I'd like to think otherwise. People that I know; at least in my locality back in India, are aware of the situation facing us expatriates here in Dubai. They know that things are hardly ever in our favour, and here the seeds of this "staying away" are sown. Many of our parents or their friends may have fallen victim to job cuts, or bias in salaries or promotions at work. They come to this country seeking the "better life" that they have only heard about, they come to find that their work is more than cut out for them. Preferences are given to nationals over expatriates who sometimes, I dare say, are more knowledgeable and capable at jobs than the nationals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To save themselves the embarrassment and trouble of having to return to their country and re-establish their lives, these people opt to live here. Their main obstacle; money. Money is never easy to come by, but in a place like Dubai, once you come across money, there always are things like temptations, expenditures for livelihood and even scams, to pull the money out of your wallet. Perseverance and struggle is the only order of the day for these people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.ameinfo.com/images/currency/UAE.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.ameinfo.com/images/currency/UAE.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with all the obstacles faced by people here, it seems more than evident that there will be a time when Dubai will be devoid of middle/working class people, who are part of the core of any city. So with these people gone and only the people who rake in the money around, a day shall dawn when Dubai becomes stagnant. Hotels will be empty, the airport quiet, restaurants all fired up but with nothing grilling, only a jungle of concrete, steel, glass and paper. Like the ice-cream, Dubai has melted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's only hope, is to once again be the place that always was on the tip of peoples tongues and that offered salvation to those looking for a better life. Then these wildly amazing projects would most definately come off, the residents would be nothing short of happy to promote the Emirate. Good luck Dubai, lets hope you can maintain the refrigerant in your fridge, and that this situtaition remains hypothetical&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596505144070637791-4229549453564992488?l=jeetumohan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/feeds/4229549453564992488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2596505144070637791&amp;postID=4229549453564992488' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/4229549453564992488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/4229549453564992488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/2007/01/dubai-ice-cream.html' title='Dubai - ice cream'/><author><name>Jeetu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16341864779807295380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RdJfOAAs3GI/AAAAAAAAAD4/Aqf_bFfCAW0/s72-c/baskin+fubai.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596505144070637791.post-2322522832438373698</id><published>2007-01-15T09:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-15T09:56:36.312-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Imagine</title><content type='html'>All of us are brilliant at imagining things, physics formulae, EVS answers, and the often comical situation, things like these are borne from figments of our imagination generally unknown to us, appearing only by request from a bored or desperate mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just the other day I was playin FIFA world cup 06. A rather strange option allowed me to pit the English National team against another instance of itself. As the game began, I, for no apparent reason came into this particular frame of thought. My English team; wearing red was playing against freakish genetic clones of my players in a bid to save humanity from these clones. So i put the speakers on mute, and had a silent, running commentry delivered by my mind. In the end, without too much resistance from the amateur level of A.I, I won the game. I was overcome with satisfaction that I had been able to save England from a terrible fate. Strangely enough, I was quite proud of my achievement. Call me childish or immature, but me thinks that there is more to this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Using purely my imagination, and of course my psp, I was actually able to satisfy myself, achieving a rather non-sensical and fantastical goal. And this was no first to me, or to anyone else. I'm sure that everyone would have gone through or still is in the "toy" phase. I myself had a mini-toy battallion. The little army men had surfboard-like bases. I'd fill up a little basin with water, grab my men and let the imagination go to work. I fought many wars throughout the course of the day, my men suffered no casualties, and it was fun! I recently found one of these army men, it was just another plastic figure, the endless hours of enjoyment forgotten, until I dreamed up this post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So right now I'm wondering...What Happened? Why don't or why can't we look at things or imagine them to be any different from the way they are, any more? Just for the heck of it, I would like to pen blame onto the Indian Education system. Expelled frustrations aside, I'm also considering that it is maturity and a better understanding of reality and all that is concerned with the environment that changes our frame of thought. Quite immediately, another question comes up, if we are so knowledged about the physical intricacies of the world and evolution and what not, why would we even believe in creation; i.e.: Hop, skip, jump...here’s a human. Forgive the questioning of God's power, but this is something that really intrigued me. I just didn't get why our fantasies nowadays are so limited to materialistic items, lust, and as men...women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Caught up in this busy world and the quest for self-alleviation makes us forget quite easily about our childhood, it's experiences and the ways in which we handled situations. It is rather hard to get in touch with this self, it lies cloaked in myriad shrouds of experiences, we seldom manage to connect with this ability to fantasize to such an extent, that fantasy nears reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me clichéd with my posts but I will once again relate to music, and quite obviously the song "Imagine", by John Lennon. This man somehow managed to imagine a fantastic world with only good to offer for it's inhabitants. In a time after many disastrous wars, strife and countless other obstacles, he imagined this perfect world and in this song provoked others to imagine with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So go ahead and look at something, even a clock, let your mind go for a little while and imagine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596505144070637791-2322522832438373698?l=jeetumohan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/feeds/2322522832438373698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2596505144070637791&amp;postID=2322522832438373698' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/2322522832438373698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/2322522832438373698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/2007/01/imagine.html' title='Imagine'/><author><name>Jeetu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16341864779807295380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596505144070637791.post-3028738705759000188</id><published>2007-01-10T12:03:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-10T12:03:30.171-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guns N' Roses - Its So Easy </title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/BoeVVEh8Yco' name='movie'&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/BoeVVEh8Yco'&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;If there ever a song that screamed primal rage its this song. A tight, rocking performance by one of the best bands of the yesteryears. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Profanities aside, this song is pretty good to douse some rage...Go ahead and vent.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596505144070637791-3028738705759000188?l=jeetumohan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/feeds/3028738705759000188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2596505144070637791&amp;postID=3028738705759000188' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/3028738705759000188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/3028738705759000188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/2007/01/guns-n-roses-its-so-easy.html' title='Guns N&amp;#39; Roses - Its So Easy '/><author><name>Jeetu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16341864779807295380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596505144070637791.post-1874166024751207785</id><published>2007-01-10T11:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-10T13:15:18.020-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What we've got here is failure to communicate!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The lines a ripoff from a movie called "Cool hand Luke" and a Gn'R song "Civil War", and me thinks that this line has got more relevance in our lives than any other cheesy lyric.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://991.com/newgallery/Guns-N-Roses-Civil-War-15278.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 224px; height: 194px;" src="http://991.com/newgallery/Guns-N-Roses-Civil-War-15278.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/0790731509.01.LZZZZZZZ.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 184px; height: 255px;" src="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/0790731509.01.LZZZZZZZ.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;A heck of a lot of us have encountered this failure to, problem in communicating. Given our educational and mental status, it's rather evident that its no speech impediment. A lot of times it's the lack of attention that gets the better of us. Quite often, were just too caught up to pay attention to what some people are saying. Sometimes, the repercussions are mild, and of course there is the obvious consequence of a heated argument.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not merely advisory, but mandatory is how I see the necessity of coming out and being able to speak one's mind is. A rather tragic incident occured in the vicinity of my house back in India, with regard to a total failure to communicate. A happy family...a man, his wife and their two daughters was thrown into chaos as the husband murdered his wife. The wife was quite an attractive and friendly woman loved by many. The husband was more sedate and quiet and rarely indulged in conversations with anyone. Quite normally, many people used to notice the attractive wife going past everyday, she remained unconcerned and oblivious of any problems. But the husband was overcome with suspicions, he doubted his wife's faithfulness to their marriage vows, and decided to take matters into his own hands. One evening as she returned from work, he killed her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Details of the killing aside, this man's justification was suspicions of infidelity. The entire family was ruined, mother dead and father jailed, the daughters were left to tend for themselves. Tragic...yes...but most definately an avoidable cirumstance. If only the man had the precense of mind to converse with his wife, divulging his suspicions and seeking answers, a life could have been saved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of course, this isn't always such a serious issue. Besides not being able to get a point across, the failure to communicate also pertains to those who find it hard to come of out of their comfortable little shells of quietness. People never really get to know them, the most unfortunate bit being that some develop a rather prejudiced opinion against these people. Rather unfortunately, these people remain as they are; enclosed, and never get to jump into the fray of the wild, everyone for themselves life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.u.arizona.edu/%7Ebhewlett/images/bnh6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 280px;" src="http://www.u.arizona.edu/%7Ebhewlett/images/bnh6.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is easier said than done, but I'll say it anyways, life would be much easier if we could just manage to express ourselves properly without being misunderstood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596505144070637791-1874166024751207785?l=jeetumohan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/feeds/1874166024751207785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2596505144070637791&amp;postID=1874166024751207785' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/1874166024751207785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/1874166024751207785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/2007/01/what-weve-got-here-is-failure-to.html' title='What we&apos;ve got here is failure to communicate!'/><author><name>Jeetu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16341864779807295380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596505144070637791.post-2682103183050974277</id><published>2006-12-29T20:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-29T20:09:46.832-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rolling Stones - Wild Horses acoustic</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/jFzxAhLHmyo' name='movie'&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/jFzxAhLHmyo'&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thanks to UV fer telling me about this song. Covered by a bazillion artists, this is probably one of the best Stones songs. Good guitar work, complementing drum beats bass, piano and Mick Jagger's lovely vocals make for a most touching and beautiful song. Seems like nothings going to stop these aging rockers.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596505144070637791-2682103183050974277?l=jeetumohan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/feeds/2682103183050974277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2596505144070637791&amp;postID=2682103183050974277' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/2682103183050974277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/2682103183050974277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/2006/12/rolling-stones-wild-horses-acoustic.html' title='Rolling Stones - Wild Horses acoustic'/><author><name>Jeetu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16341864779807295380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596505144070637791.post-1548680691227668278</id><published>2006-12-28T04:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-28T05:29:03.163-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An evening through a verbal video camera</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, my friend called me out for a brief foray outside the confines of my house. He wished to purchase a Christmas present for another comrade, and said he could use the company and some assistance. Never being a man to give up a chance to leave home, I obliged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Destination 1 - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Karama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Shopping complex&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend had in mind this little glass memento, we spent about half an hour just trying to find an appropriate shop. Rather surprised and embarrassed to realise that we couldn't find a piece at A.C. Milan, we left the area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Destination 2 - Bur Juman Centre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.ddg-usa.com/Projects/BurJuman_Centre/A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.ddg-usa.com/Projects/BurJuman_Centre/A.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Burjuman seemed like a more appropriate place to continue our quest for the elusive crystal ball. A certain Ms. Distraction seemed to be in the vicinity as she veered us off our path and down the stairs of the Zara showroom. And there, like two possessed women(sexist remark not intended), we tried on a heap of clothes. Of course with the scarcity of greens in the money desert, we made no purchase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Destination 3 - Centrepoint; 20 meters away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.ameinfo.com/images/news/8/22548-centrepoint.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.ameinfo.com/images/news/8/22548-centrepoint.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At centrepoint, our quest for the grail came to a close. Lifestyle bore the fruit of our long search, it came in the form of a little crystal bowl, that looked cracked yet wasn't. 39 Dirhams later, we were out of the store present in hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tariquesani.net/albums/userpics/crackedBowlf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 149px;" src="http://tariquesani.net/albums/userpics/crackedBowlf.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in a sheer crafty moment of thought, I decided that I wouldn't lend my 'services' regardless of how minimal for free. My fee; would have to be in the form of a Subway sandwich. Another thirty minutes passed, my friends wallet; a lot lighter, mine...I never brought it along, remained at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Destination 5 - Home, where else?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Stomach and my friend satisfied we left for home. The journey was short and 15 minutes was all it took to make it back home. Prior to parting, I mentioned that a greeting to my friend's comrade should be passed to him on my behalf. Innocently, and rather instinctively, we both gazed at the bag, which we presumed was nestled in my friend's right hand. As luck would have it, it wasn't. Screaming was in order, and so we did. 15 minutes cut short to 10 was all the time it took to walk back to the mall in search of the disappearing present. By now it would be quite obvious to one that the present would have displaced itself further away from where we might have left it, and surely it did. The present was lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the apparently unfortunate matter at hand, my friend remarked "Aaah, what the heck, it was my parent's money." Not wishing to comment more on his lacked of concern, I smiled and we walked back home. 3 hours of lost studies after I had set out, I got back to the most pleasant threatening stare my Mom had given me in quite a while, and I settled myself down before my table, and switched the camera off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596505144070637791-1548680691227668278?l=jeetumohan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/feeds/1548680691227668278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2596505144070637791&amp;postID=1548680691227668278' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/1548680691227668278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/1548680691227668278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/2006/12/evening-through-verbal-video-camera.html' title='An evening through a verbal video camera'/><author><name>Jeetu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16341864779807295380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596505144070637791.post-8268595933195322113</id><published>2006-12-27T12:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T11:38:28.592-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas dinner pics</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZRA0-CQCeI/AAAAAAAAADs/38uG8bXMET8/s1600-h/DSC00599.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZRA0-CQCeI/AAAAAAAAADs/38uG8bXMET8/s320/DSC00599.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013703563920017890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Amandy!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZQ9PuCQCcI/AAAAAAAAADY/0-xtRiRwG1c/s1600-h/DSC00594.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZQ9PuCQCcI/AAAAAAAAADY/0-xtRiRwG1c/s320/DSC00594.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013699625435007426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And back by popular demand, Ali Yar Khan with Rajiv and half of Amandy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZQ6gOCQCbI/AAAAAAAAADM/K3qUc5JBkWc/s1600-h/DSC00612.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZQ6gOCQCbI/AAAAAAAAADM/K3qUc5JBkWc/s320/DSC00612.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013696610367965618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Group pic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLlbOCQCaI/AAAAAAAAACc/B9QPSx_4gik/s1600-h/DSC00613.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLlbOCQCaI/AAAAAAAAACc/B9QPSx_4gik/s320/DSC00613.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013321591003548066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Anish solo; rediscovered man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLjjeCQCZI/AAAAAAAAACU/gJX_KA2MTbg/s1600-h/DSC00607.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLjjeCQCZI/AAAAAAAAACU/gJX_KA2MTbg/s320/DSC00607.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013319533714213266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Experimental pic of self&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLhtOCQCYI/AAAAAAAAACM/9HQV5ZcW_6A/s1600-h/DSC00608.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLhtOCQCYI/AAAAAAAAACM/9HQV5ZcW_6A/s320/DSC00608.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013317502194682242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                   Random pic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLgEuCQCXI/AAAAAAAAACE/7AeqyYnq-24/s1600-h/DSC00604.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLgEuCQCXI/AAAAAAAAACE/7AeqyYnq-24/s320/DSC00604.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013315706898352498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                      Juhi, Romit and evil Anish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLeOuCQCWI/AAAAAAAAAB8/ZtACwyOvdoU/s1600-h/DSC00606.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLeOuCQCWI/AAAAAAAAAB8/ZtACwyOvdoU/s320/DSC00606.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013313679673788770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                     Ali, adukit and Amandy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLcQuCQCVI/AAAAAAAAAB0/lhoy1KT-SoA/s1600-h/DSC00610.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLcQuCQCVI/AAAAAAAAAB0/lhoy1KT-SoA/s320/DSC00610.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013311515010271570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                         Ali and Amandy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLahuCQCUI/AAAAAAAAABs/-gMd8xcTBx8/s1600-h/DSC00603.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLahuCQCUI/AAAAAAAAABs/-gMd8xcTBx8/s320/DSC00603.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013309608044792130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                Ali and Rajiv&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLYceCQCTI/AAAAAAAAABk/vpEGu_z9sA8/s1600-h/DSC00591.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLYceCQCTI/AAAAAAAAABk/vpEGu_z9sA8/s320/DSC00591.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013307318827223346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                        Amandy and Juhi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLUUuCQCRI/AAAAAAAAABU/DUQA0L0osGM/s1600-h/DSC00614.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZLUUuCQCRI/AAAAAAAAABU/DUQA0L0osGM/s320/DSC00614.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5013302787636726034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                            Anish and Bharath&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/2596505144070637791-8268595933195322113?l=jeetumohan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/feeds/8268595933195322113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2596505144070637791&amp;postID=8268595933195322113' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/8268595933195322113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/8268595933195322113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/2006/12/christmas-dinner-pics.html' title='Christmas dinner pics'/><author><name>Jeetu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16341864779807295380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RZRA0-CQCeI/AAAAAAAAADs/38uG8bXMET8/s72-c/DSC00599.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596505144070637791.post-8905647208038828652</id><published>2006-12-25T14:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-25T16:08:29.811-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dry County</title><content type='html'>I was listening to Dry County today, good &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ol&lt;/span&gt;' Jon sang "man spent his whole life &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;waitin&lt;/span&gt;', &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;prayin&lt;/span&gt;', for some big reward". What really caught me was the word prayer. I don't know about everyone else, but mine is a rather  religious family, God is credited with every success that we achieve, and is the sole "cure-all" for any given situation. Back to dry county, it seems now that for any wish of ours we merely turn to God and assume that the "reward" shall be granted. But, I beg to differ from this opinion, regardless of how irrational or unfathomable my thoughts may seem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://home.austarnet.com.au/stear/Primordial%20Soup.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://home.austarnet.com.au/stear/Primordial%20Soup.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Studying science, and  Biology in particular,  gives you an  outlook into aspects of life you never knew about. Everyday we learn something new, I'm more than fascinated at the wonders of this life. Quite recently, we came across the topic of the origin of life. We were born out of a boiling primordial soup; with a few strokes of luck(I suppose), the appropriate chemical reactions occurred...and Lo behold...primitive life was born. And from this minute "life-form" many larger organisms such as ourselves have risen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of us, distinguished scientists, students, heck...even George Bush might know about this theory, but yet we persist with our conceptions of the "Creator", a supreme being who just popped in out of nowhere, and gave rise to us all. Rashness, of the statement aside, I find it rather irrational to even think that we could have come to this earth from nowhere as mentioned in various religious scribes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd rather think of God this way; God is our control, regulator, moderator, and governing factor.  After emerging from this soup, we gradually learnt to be civilized, hence the ascension of modern man with his emotions, abstractions, and other traits. Two such traits were unruliness and fear. A primitive man would indefinitely resort to an unruly means to an end if that must be the means to his survival for that day. Hence, the need came about to keep this unruliness in check, and the concept of a God came about, an all-knowing spiritual being to whom we were answerable for all our action, and one who with enough coaxing would heap down the earths many good gifts. Primitive man feared that if he couldn't satisfy God, he would be overcome by the many savageries that the earth bore, and complied to what he believed were God's &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;bidding's&lt;/span&gt;; all that was good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From there on, this idea progressed now we all have temples, churches, mosques where we all go to call upon this spiritual being and beg forgiveness for our wrongs, and in an inadvertent act of greed; ask for only good to come upon us. Yet, it might also be  quite obvious to many, that success doesn't merely arise from an answered prayer, more often than not, it is the fruit of our hard work. Now, I'm not questioning religion or the mere existence of God, I think its more appropriate that we have our own perception of God, to which we are bound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember what we used to hear all the time when we were younger? God lies within everyone of us. Hence God might also be an extension of your inner self, bearing in mind whatever morals you have learnt in however short your life may have been, you can look upon this inner self of yours, to asses your actions. Where apologies are in order you must oblige, where thanks is in order the same applies. When in need of something, calling on the God, is merely a call to oneself to muster the will power and sense of mind to carry out the task at hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the question of child being able to assess himself comes across, and yes that is rather impossible. Now our God takes on yet another form, that of our parents, notice the similarity; God - &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;governor&lt;/span&gt; of all the world, parents - the governors of our entire world(life).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.curseoftheself.com/KevinMirror.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.curseoftheself.com/KevinMirror.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I've been talking about is my view of God, taking on many physical forms, and is truly active and &lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;existent&lt;/span&gt; in our lives instead of being someone who we hope will come to our aid. I'd rather see my God in this light, as compared to the view of many fanatics who believe that God can perform any desired feat at the drop of a hat, and brave all obstacles travelling to a far away place to communicate with a God that actually lies within.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, please note, that these are merely my own views and are not binding in any way to any object or belief, let alone atheism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Jeetu&lt;/span&gt;...out&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596505144070637791-8905647208038828652?l=jeetumohan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/feeds/8905647208038828652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2596505144070637791&amp;postID=8905647208038828652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/8905647208038828652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/8905647208038828652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/2006/12/dry-county.html' title='Dry County'/><author><name>Jeetu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16341864779807295380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596505144070637791.post-3937860605199099895</id><published>2006-12-21T05:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T11:38:29.934-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Beach</title><content type='html'>Jumeirah beach was empty and quiet, setting the ominous tone for what was about to come. The eight of us; myself, Eddie, Udai, AshiQ, Preeth, Bharath, Rohith, and Sahil wandered toward the rocks. On the little platform, we saw a group practising tai chi, quite obviously Bharath was mesmerised and remained affixed to that spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqJ3uCQCLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ve_m9dDhnB0/s1600-h/tai+chi.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqJ3uCQCLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ve_m9dDhnB0/s320/tai+chi.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5010969125746378930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of us decided to play "footie" with Sahil's tennis ball, eventually Bharath would join in. And in a stroke of mere bad luck, the ball flew out of our playing premises and into a deep crevice between the rocks that lined the shore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here began a rescue mission to save the little ball. Spearheaded by AshiQ and Preeth, we went in search of the little ball. Our main instrument was AshiQ, and our trusty little phone light, with a poor battery life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqK2-CQCMI/AAAAAAAAAAU/N4LhFgEUxAg/s1600-h/trusty+searchlight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqK2-CQCMI/AAAAAAAAAAU/N4LhFgEUxAg/s320/trusty+searchlight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5010970212373104834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;AshiQ threw himself into the chasm, and with the light shining bright saw the ball. Yet the question was, whether he should risk his own life to save it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqLauCQCNI/AAAAAAAAAAc/ru0tTAbfUo8/s1600-h/ashiQ.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqLauCQCNI/AAAAAAAAAAc/ru0tTAbfUo8/s320/ashiQ.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5010970826553428178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Face first he lay for a long time, and yet he couldn't reach it, the ball lay cold and whimpering. Eventually it was too much for AshiQ, he withdrew, and in an effort reminiscent of the movie Cliffhanger he clambered out of the crevice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqMCeCQCOI/AAAAAAAAAAk/1GLlnzoTBno/s1600-h/ashiQ1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqMCeCQCOI/AAAAAAAAAAk/1GLlnzoTBno/s320/ashiQ1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5010971509453228258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;And then came our second stalwart; Preeth. Being of a shorter stature, it required two of us to lower him down. Anxiously we awaited his response. He claimed to see a football, and a petrified coke can; a grim prospective of what would happen to our dear little ball. Yet again our mighty rescue man, was unable to locate the ball, and had to emerge with his effort going in vain. Overcome by a rush of blood to the head, he declared that there was nothing that we could do, and we had to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqNkOCQCPI/AAAAAAAAAAs/UP5jH65rOf8/s1600-h/19122006226.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqNkOCQCPI/AAAAAAAAAAs/UP5jH65rOf8/s320/19122006226.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5010973188785441010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Sahil remained emotionless, but it was apparent by his passiveness that he was quite overcome by the loss. Bharath attempted to bring cheer to the moment by providing some relief. And we called it a day, and parted on our ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqN3eCQCQI/AAAAAAAAAA0/6ShKeuVyzHY/s1600-h/bharath.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqN3eCQCQI/AAAAAAAAAA0/6ShKeuVyzHY/s320/bharath.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5010973519497922818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Silly story aside, yesterday was quite a fun day. At this age, most of us might be under the impression that a trip to the beach, is beyond us and would be a rather insipid affair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if you take a few friends along, and a guitar(for no apparent reason), like we did, enjoyment seems to come in many forms. And right now in the current time of nostalgia, reminiscence and a lot of tension, a little fun could be really useful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596505144070637791-3937860605199099895?l=jeetumohan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/feeds/3937860605199099895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2596505144070637791&amp;postID=3937860605199099895' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/3937860605199099895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/3937860605199099895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/2006/12/beach.html' title='The Beach'/><author><name>Jeetu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16341864779807295380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3hsm3NedPcs/RYqJ3uCQCLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ve_m9dDhnB0/s72-c/tai+chi.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596505144070637791.post-2387951939930800817</id><published>2006-12-21T04:53:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T06:32:08.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What grinds your gears?</title><content type='html'>A little while ago, I was watching the Family Guy movie, and Peter Griffin gets a chance to rant about the things that really ground his gears. Being Peter Griffin, he go ticked of at the most petty of all matters. Taking on a cue from him, I'm gonna rant a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.aboynamedgoo.com/wp-content/uploads/2006/04/Picture3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.aboynamedgoo.com/wp-content/uploads/2006/04/Picture3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flourish and T.V graphics...."What really grinds my gears":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.)Math: By definition, it's the study of numbers, geometry and other abstracts. On the contrary, I can't help but question it's necessity; I just don't like it(precisely why I don't often do well in it). But I think it isn't just me, I've come across quite a few people with an aversion to the subject. In our school Math is compulsory, and  for some of us who are going into fields that don't require the subject, I don't see the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.efunda.com/math/calculus/images/IntbyParts.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.efunda.com/math/calculus/images/IntbyParts.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.)Cockroaches: They're by far the sickest creatures that I've ever seen! And in the summer, the little buggers thrive around our buildings. One night, I was innnocently sitting on the computer, and found one climbing up my leg. Being the scaredy-cat that I am, jumped up and shrieked, and that got me into a bit of trouble with my parents for even being awake at that hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://eskatonia.net/qcblog/images/cockroach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 206px;" src="http://eskatonia.net/qcblog/images/cockroach.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.)Rumours: A hell of a lot of us have been at the brunt of rumours before. Initially it starts with a slip of the tongue on your behalf, and having a friend awaiting to catch on to these opportunities doesn't help. And then this becomes a trivial laughing matter which eventually gets forgotten. But sometimes, they get blown up, beyond all applicable proportions, and BOOM, social homicide has been committed against you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.accounting-and-bookkeeping-tips.com/images/left_tile/child_telling_secret.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 168px;" src="http://www.accounting-and-bookkeeping-tips.com/images/left_tile/child_telling_secret.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.)Superstitions: My mom tells me that it is most inappropriate to cut my nails on a Tuesday evening, and that I shouldn't wear black on occasions. Without trying to be rude and arrogant, I just ask her why, only to get no response. Some superstitions are so preposterous that it amazes me how people still believe in them; like the one about the black cat crossing your path, what did the poor little cat do. Quite obviously it's going to be quite befuddled on seeing a large human being jumping around to get out of its path, and might react strangely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tao.ca/%7Ecupe3903/web/files/black%20cat.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 179px; height: 187px;" src="http://tao.ca/%7Ecupe3903/web/files/black%20cat.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.)Advertisements: So you're watching your favourite serial, Jermaine is finally going to find out who killed his wife after a long series of investigations, and you want to know too, oh no...not if the T.V channel can help it. At such a strategic moment they move into the commercials. Sure it's essential for major enterprises to advertise themselves to gain business, but not in the middle of a program. On some channels these advertisement chains run on for 15 minutes! And lets say Dexter's lab is scheduled from 4:00 to 4:30, you only get 15 minutes of the program you want to watch. I'd rather have them air the ad's after programs(they do it anyways), besides how many times can you see the ad for Western Union before getting utterly bored and irritated?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lancephoto.com/pix/commercial/bwdnlyks.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 156px; height: 205px;" src="http://www.lancephoto.com/pix/commercial/bwdnlyks.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thats what really grinds my gears...Jeetu out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596505144070637791-2387951939930800817?l=jeetumohan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/feeds/2387951939930800817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2596505144070637791&amp;postID=2387951939930800817' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/2387951939930800817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/2387951939930800817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/2006/12/what-grinds-your-gears.html' title='What grinds your gears?'/><author><name>Jeetu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16341864779807295380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596505144070637791.post-1267878461022041960</id><published>2006-12-21T04:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T04:53:21.440-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First...or is it</title><content type='html'>This blog isn't my first, I started out way back in 9th grade thanks to Abhinav Sinha, but my good friend laziness caught up as always. Right now, this is my little place where I can let some thoughts out, and probably make sense. Apologies if it seems that I'm jumping onto the bandwagon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596505144070637791-1267878461022041960?l=jeetumohan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/feeds/1267878461022041960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2596505144070637791&amp;postID=1267878461022041960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/1267878461022041960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596505144070637791/posts/default/1267878461022041960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jeetumohan.blogspot.com/2006/12/firstor-is-it.html' title='First...or is it'/><author><name>Jeetu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16341864779807295380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
