tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-190321642024-03-15T00:19:12.185+05:30Obscured By WordsOh let the sun beat down upon my face,<br>
With stars to fill my dream.<br>
I am a traveler of both time and space,<br>
To be where I have been.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.comBlogger250125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-18398355229234422012012-02-25T19:07:00.002+05:302012-02-25T19:07:52.528+05:30Laughing at Gidwani<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I typed the title of this post and in hindsight it sounds much like a movie of the elite sort. But this is serious.<br />
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For years, my dear friend Mohit Gidwani wrote blog posts in this blog. Let me find a link to it, hold on a sec. Oh <a href="http://mirroredmind.blogspot.in/">here</a> it is. Wohoah there's a new entry there! This was unexpected. No well forget that. My point was this: for some years towards the fag end of the blog's life, Gid would often write a "Phoenixy" post once every few months just to give the impression of life. I would scoff and laugh at his pathetic attempts at keeping a blog going while Obscured by Words was going strong after all these years.<br />
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However it occurs to me that over the last year or so - that's precisely what I've been doing. Overloaded with work and recklessly poor, I haven't had the motivation or the time to carve out some stone tablets either. In short: this blog isn't really getting anywhere anymore.<br />
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I resolved to write more, but really - it is impossible given the number of hours I work every week now. So I've been seriously thinking of putting this blog down and putting a little "Hiatus" tag on it forever.<br />
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I don't know whether I should, but if you do have any unresolved (preferably nonsensical) questions, email me and I shall answer them for you in a wise and hearty manner. Other than that, I expect not much more from Obscured by Words in the near future.<br />
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Thank you for your time.<br />
<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-91611004151025678802012-01-09T01:25:00.004+05:302012-01-09T01:26:51.364+05:30Occam's Razor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In Philosophy, Occam's Razor, sometimes expressed in Latin as lex parsimoniae (the law of parsimony, economy or succinctness), is a principle that generally recommends that, from competing hypotheses, selecting the one that makes the fewest new assumptions usually provides the correct one, and that the simplest explanation will be the most plausible until evidence is presented to prove it false. (source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Occam's_razor)<br />
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Silverleaf's trading framework, called occam, is inspired from this principle and stresses on simplicity of architecture emphasizes minimizing "assumptions" (by building as little as possible from scratch), utilizing frameworks and libraries wherever possible.<br />
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"nanos gigantium humeris insidentes" (Standing on the shoulders of giants) was famously uttered by Sir Isaac Newton signifying that we can achieve much and see far not by any virtue or sharpness on our part but because we are carried high and raised up by the giants that came before us. So too, we must acknowledge the Boost C++ Libraries as the giants that have made occam possible.<br />
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"silver sTrade" proof of concept coding and preliminary systems testing was completed from 19 December 2011 to 6 January 2012. Newly christened "occam", development was begun on 10th January 2012.<br />
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<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-41703938762680282832011-09-15T08:45:00.001+05:302011-09-15T08:45:39.106+05:30Short Term Focus FTW<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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(Thoughts from a chat conversation last night)</div>
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The biggest thing on my mind, at most times, is "Where shall I have lunch?". If today's been done with, then the question oft changes to "Where shall I have lunch tomorrow?" with a sprinkling of "What's for tea?"</div>
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Around me, I see friends getting married and having kids and what not. That always scares me because the only thing I'm still worried about is my next snack.</div>
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Now don't get me wrong - I'm all for lunch and lunch breaks and the like. It's a good thing this very clear, razor sharp short term focus. I only bring it up because people at my workplace (the minion rank and file ones (which includes me), termed "flunks" by the powers-that-be) are wondering who will tempt them with delicious coffee trips and exotic lunches once I'm gone.</div>
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I like to believe that once I'm left, they will hang up a little sign on my desk which reads "Missing, presumably fed". You will, right guys?</div>
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(Credits to Douglas Adams for the last bit)</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-45913433664214182772011-09-11T09:15:00.000+05:302011-09-15T08:46:03.676+05:30At Right Angles to Reality<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This is about stuff from over 4 years ago. In net-terms that's an era ago: almost infinity. To give you an idea: At that time, hardly anyone I knew read XKCD. I had to explain to most what I liked about a comic which is drawn using stick figures. Abstruse Goose had just started and Dresden Codak was still a flitting thought in Aaron Diaz's mind. I had not come across Reddit yet!<br />
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Back then, Sandhya and I created a few panels of a webcomic - a take on the people, stereotypes and popular jokes of IIT. I would write these and Sandhya would use the breaks from her EE-DD to draw them. Then I'd colour them and post online. I wrote a total of about 35 panels, but eventually we drew 7 before the project abruptly halted and was relegated to a "hiatus" stage.<br />
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Shashi made some valiant efforts to keep this alive by ripping off our work and putting in his own story-lines: <a href="http://day-a-joke.blogspot.com/2007/06/changlis-revenge.html">1</a> <a href="http://day-a-joke.blogspot.com/2009/09/wikipedia-editors.html">2</a> <a href="http://day-a-joke.blogspot.com/2009/09/why-chintu-did-not-do-phd.html">3</a> <a href="http://day-a-joke.blogspot.com/2010/05/vagina-monologues-joke.html">4</a> - thanks for the effort and please feel free to rip off any others too :)<br />
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Anyhows: Here are the original 7 panels. Here's wishing Goodbye to Nerby.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">May 11, 2007: Once Upon a Time, in a Galaxy Far, Far Away</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHB-oJ3QLLITacqBMG-V3MlM4SeiwX44n41d_EHOaXLjuDjFMovv_jZVOE9FwhUNtcWChXb_nrLvc8px9UxlcnbrGJjcZHu3Tf2WMPtDNdqRZlK6okarAkibAAlSzeQmHur1i_jw/s1600/strip1_600x600.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHB-oJ3QLLITacqBMG-V3MlM4SeiwX44n41d_EHOaXLjuDjFMovv_jZVOE9FwhUNtcWChXb_nrLvc8px9UxlcnbrGJjcZHu3Tf2WMPtDNdqRZlK6okarAkibAAlSzeQmHur1i_jw/s320/strip1_600x600.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">May 12, 2007: Strip #2</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEeaqRAggaOKjPMIV4ctlKoFpH9QMC0NeAUJdIuItvEW7NlBbyUHVIy7CwZctYaAmFpgYT10ydtcyQteB3dBan4XTwn90eGvJR4VWQgQvLkUvzgoFnQvgwZVx7VoXLpn0EEwnlzw/s1600/strip2_600x600.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEeaqRAggaOKjPMIV4ctlKoFpH9QMC0NeAUJdIuItvEW7NlBbyUHVIy7CwZctYaAmFpgYT10ydtcyQteB3dBan4XTwn90eGvJR4VWQgQvLkUvzgoFnQvgwZVx7VoXLpn0EEwnlzw/s320/strip2_600x600.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">May 30, 2007: Strip #3</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">May 30, 2007: Strip #4</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">May 30, 2007: Strip #5</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">June 1, 2007: Dead Man's Chest</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fhv7K3ka3Q4eQ2xn5gki-ahQHRjwD3_eLXD0WklGp5ITWPxSv8ZU5xat-HyeVDr9_yZ21U0n6MnOJ38g2UospaqYLU-P8eapyaeaNh6IWqxQscQF7NY8quxv5wH4CHgSm_AjsA/s1600/strip6_600x600+copy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fhv7K3ka3Q4eQ2xn5gki-ahQHRjwD3_eLXD0WklGp5ITWPxSv8ZU5xat-HyeVDr9_yZ21U0n6MnOJ38g2UospaqYLU-P8eapyaeaNh6IWqxQscQF7NY8quxv5wH4CHgSm_AjsA/s320/strip6_600x600+copy.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;">June 8, 2007: Muthu Returns! Encore!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOm8lub-6_3kYvnfhlhJASd9puwSLXaQVnzUBXbOK-oR7WtMxIdhAspTe7Y-cNeOqlRwJZDVK09trHR09jzIT8sjGyLJmn0W7Vlp0jk-k7PHfbX9E6_ldqmvJ4ax6Hg4bOIesTQ/s1600/strip7_600x600.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOm8lub-6_3kYvnfhlhJASd9puwSLXaQVnzUBXbOK-oR7WtMxIdhAspTe7Y-cNeOqlRwJZDVK09trHR09jzIT8sjGyLJmn0W7Vlp0jk-k7PHfbX9E6_ldqmvJ4ax6Hg4bOIesTQ/s320/strip7_600x600.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Goodbye Nerby.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-60552118944241238552011-09-08T13:57:00.001+05:302011-09-15T08:46:03.682+05:30Goodbye Marker-World<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Around this time about 3 years ago, Mohit "Giddu" Gidwani and I were prisoners in that Red-walled sought-after prison complex that we eventually grew to know and love, IIM-A. Desperately seeking some distraction from the pressures of academics, we conceptualized "Marker World".<br />
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Marker World was meant to be a geeky, hastily drawn together, 4-colour comic. We planned to etch our imagination on whiteboards using nothing but coloured markers and without Photoshop. We outlined various grandiose plot-lines and flatter-than-paper characters.<br />
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On October 21, 2008 we drew our first panel, titled "Hello Marker-World". To be accurate, Giddu drew it while I observed from the sidelines (from the comfortable distance of one bean bag, one could term this "backseat drawing").<br />
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Alas, we never did get down to drawing any others, and thus this lonely panel stood like a billboard on the highways of the internet, bravely weathering visitors and changing climes. Over time, the hosting service that kept the images went down and none of us noticed - not unlike those wind-demolished Tata Indicom ads on the Expressway.<br />
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Today I am shutting down the Marker World website. It was a grand idea that we never really got started upon. In memory of our times at IIM, here is that one panel which we made with much gutso and enthu.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvb7jujI88yDXJctTKReA1RgCMsNZWivLeIufjmPedf_vOr08MnfjUV3Ufz9DWdGmCOEKmZOMpIBFn7U_CSB81fea3Xnif2ESmln6KNipv1cORRFEmDNH2ja9Ah7Gb_b501ObhQ/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkvb7jujI88yDXJctTKReA1RgCMsNZWivLeIufjmPedf_vOr08MnfjUV3Ufz9DWdGmCOEKmZOMpIBFn7U_CSB81fea3Xnif2ESmln6KNipv1cORRFEmDNH2ja9Ah7Gb_b501ObhQ/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I miss IIM, with all it's buzz and vigour. The depression and the hukkah. The frisbee and floodlights. And Economics.<br />
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Goodbye Marker-World.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-15938958862862291642011-08-30T16:13:00.003+05:302011-08-30T16:52:49.553+05:30Spewing HateThis is about Facebook.<div>
<br /></div><div>Mainly: I hate it.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>There - I said so out loud. May the catharsis begin.<div>
<br /></div><div>My first reaction to every new Facebook feature is... "How do I opt out?". The ever-raging debate: "To add or not to add family". The most inane and boring things I have ever read proudly displayed as status messages. Photos of everyone from your dog to your grandmother. Gah.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Facebook could have made a really good Addressbook. But then they added some features and blew that chance.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>So, my recommendation: Sell all your facebook stock, delete your profile and join the offline bandwagon. But then I'm a cynic. And everyone knows - never take life advice from a cynic.</div><div>
<br /></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-40165697043217753052011-08-30T16:09:00.002+05:302011-08-30T16:12:11.241+05:30Over The Last Hill We FlyOver the last hill we fly.<div>
<br /></div><div>The shining desert city glitters below</div><div>Me, like a jewel a thousand</div><div>Pinpricks of Pale Yellow light form</div><div>Patterns discernible in the black night.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>The sea beyond smells of drunken</div><div>Mirth which pays no heed to the</div><div>Oppressive norms of society.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>How glorious, but this isn't my stop.</div><div>
<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-73955424045709309342011-04-09T00:24:00.002+05:302011-04-09T00:33:41.586+05:30SG 306<div>"Good evening sir. Welcome to fl-" I switch my brain off. Avoid hearing their artificial welcomes, two facetious smiles and a ripple of Chinese whispers. </div><div><br /></div><div>I seat myself, buckle in. "Sir may I tell you about..." Yeah yeah bring it on bring it on. Tell me all about the lovely emergency exit. You don't really want to tell me and I definitely do not wish to listen. But unfortunately you have to tell me and I surely must pretend to listen. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you very much.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm a row 18 traveller. I know which rows are the back emergency exits with additional legspace (row 18). Which airhostesses are going thru nervous breakdowns (look for the extra puffy eyes) and which damn pilots do not for their lives know how to make a decent announcement (the drunk ones). </div><div><br /></div><div>I hate being a row 18 traveller. </div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-12937596152442621572011-04-04T15:23:00.007+05:302011-04-04T15:43:05.644+05:30Is that a Facebook "Like" button? :-O<div>Hello All.</div><br /><div>Yes the all-pervasive "Like" button has invaded this blog too. I know, I had vowed to stay away from the Facebook AppPlatform and all the evil that it stands for. Unfortunately, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Network_effect">Network Effects</a> have willed me to swallow my pride and add the damn button already.</div><br /><div>This brings me to a question of netiquette, or rather facebooketiquete: Is it acceptable for one to "Like" one's own blog postings? Anyone?</div><br /><div>Cheerio! :-)</div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">PS: For those looking to add the "Like" button to their own blogs, this is the easiest source I could find: </span><a href="http://www.bloggerplugins.org/2010/04/facebook-like-button-for-blogger.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">http://www.bloggerplugins.org/2010/04/facebook-like-button-for-blogger.html</span></a></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-63915642919695211012011-04-01T22:56:00.012+05:302011-04-01T23:34:10.388+05:30Banksy: Wall and Piece<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrkvwGdZhdMFqBrl8H-kpPEhvDyOhtS9ZVM8jHq5qnpzLXwgJOa3obpkFU5JCHEXavYfIAqS8BmtJAKkNhUO-lhhAAjLxgBtyj4z9E1JR8TFiirFUTuDBTkFfo0cSR9IVmO2YR_Q/s1600/Bansky_one_nation_under_cctv.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqBxL9W61fGGjwO8yN9potHRLgUKiGQuHddYBUl90E_hdHaCzI2rcMzatzGkvFGGnu6XvASAr-MpgfOlocSjz2MNMA6z-tM3wTUs5-s1EdWhfkTMWjUIgxR2tgfZr-QLcPmr8gQ/s1600/nofuture.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWarSAvYiZCrnfSinbcBrUOazsoaIEPUcDdMd1tT0q-ixivU_xV_09lEfx63iB_9xFMy3rP4QiEiMSluLEK0BHEdM44ms2VM5VSMdllorKvUU5qACnTuABTzYm7CvJGyhj5U1Qw/s1600/Banksy_graffiti_removal.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWarSAvYiZCrnfSinbcBrUOazsoaIEPUcDdMd1tT0q-ixivU_xV_09lEfx63iB_9xFMy3rP4QiEiMSluLEK0BHEdM44ms2VM5VSMdllorKvUU5qACnTuABTzYm7CvJGyhj5U1Qw/s320/Banksy_graffiti_removal.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590675666379002450" /></a><div><br /></div><div>He's a fly by night operator - draws his hood over his dyed hair, he walks into the dead of the night to arrive the scene of the crime. On foot, always on foot. He takes mere minutes to unbundle his cans of paints and specially prepared stencils. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqBxL9W61fGGjwO8yN9potHRLgUKiGQuHddYBUl90E_hdHaCzI2rcMzatzGkvFGGnu6XvASAr-MpgfOlocSjz2MNMA6z-tM3wTUs5-s1EdWhfkTMWjUIgxR2tgfZr-QLcPmr8gQ/s320/nofuture.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590675917034170146" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 201px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div>That bizarre photo of a carefully shaded girl child holding a balloon which forms a crayoned "NO FUTURE" over by the bridge street corner was him. That defaced thousand dollar billboard with a wolf-like mouse molesting a famous celebrity was him. His trademark signature drips down, akin to a the Joker leaving a calling card behind a robbed bank.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihARPxuSOZ2Op8hUxKspIrOJsTWxSnsZDM487u3jBnj6CXgZj-eZ2HQS4mUwg0RA6t6dsY28FnvWPbWmGyWjUa5cVF-pafnaym2lbUDJ5X5zHtsv19yuiXpsgYCBYUEzGyRLrqUQ/s1600/billboard-2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihARPxuSOZ2Op8hUxKspIrOJsTWxSnsZDM487u3jBnj6CXgZj-eZ2HQS4mUwg0RA6t6dsY28FnvWPbWmGyWjUa5cVF-pafnaym2lbUDJ5X5zHtsv19yuiXpsgYCBYUEzGyRLrqUQ/s320/billboard-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590676299861584866" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 140px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Banksy is a British graffiti artist and political activist. Known for his contempt of government, Banksy displays his art on public surfaces and is known to even build prop pieces. Lately his every occurrence is labelled as high art and cordoned off, preserved and auctioned off for tons of money, none of which actually goes to him.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuZEGgl8ajjwnGFuFeuFVZfZBcMjBMMGXvsSQLoc7_fF93XxZ4BrXybM4C7pV_ShLi-d-hcTTPGBwBilTbmMT-SllcKIShOy4p0AYHkcmvlnqaEdCL1NDP_4h5nPCLQQoH74eEQ/s1600/noballgames.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuZEGgl8ajjwnGFuFeuFVZfZBcMjBMMGXvsSQLoc7_fF93XxZ4BrXybM4C7pV_ShLi-d-hcTTPGBwBilTbmMT-SllcKIShOy4p0AYHkcmvlnqaEdCL1NDP_4h5nPCLQQoH74eEQ/s320/noballgames.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590676530049053890" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 238px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>His work is vandalism. For ever anti-War depiction of children suffering, he could be put behind bars for 2 years. For every anti-authoritarian slogan written out in 7-foot high capital letters, he could be fined more than he has earned in his lifetime. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIeZ6yS7c3ySnyIbiMKjuEKVI7EJ_aM1aIq1k_99DbBTfM6oBXcnzUK3rG0C2Xx8wNELrRdQj6_NdvffeyC0aMtug5Y4j3phUszQvUVdlDFA7Pc2AIsXNKCTRZpkqfuQbSQmpFMg/s1600/boxhead2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIeZ6yS7c3ySnyIbiMKjuEKVI7EJ_aM1aIq1k_99DbBTfM6oBXcnzUK3rG0C2Xx8wNELrRdQj6_NdvffeyC0aMtug5Y4j3phUszQvUVdlDFA7Pc2AIsXNKCTRZpkqfuQbSQmpFMg/s320/boxhead2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590676758313556226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 219px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>There's no light around him. He works in the dark. Banksy steps back and looks at his half complete shade of a starving little boy toting a machine gun, wondering what it'll actually look like in the daylight. He hears sirens in the distance and quietly trots off leaving his precious hour's effort still unrefined. Such is life.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrkvwGdZhdMFqBrl8H-kpPEhvDyOhtS9ZVM8jHq5qnpzLXwgJOa3obpkFU5JCHEXavYfIAqS8BmtJAKkNhUO-lhhAAjLxgBtyj4z9E1JR8TFiirFUTuDBTkFfo0cSR9IVmO2YR_Q/s1600/Bansky_one_nation_under_cctv.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrkvwGdZhdMFqBrl8H-kpPEhvDyOhtS9ZVM8jHq5qnpzLXwgJOa3obpkFU5JCHEXavYfIAqS8BmtJAKkNhUO-lhhAAjLxgBtyj4z9E1JR8TFiirFUTuDBTkFfo0cSR9IVmO2YR_Q/s320/Bansky_one_nation_under_cctv.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590676935488824162" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Some of my favourite Baknsky works are shown in the above pictures. Check out <a href="http://banksy.co.uk/">banksy.co.uk</a> for more stunning displays of his art.</i></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-10871629210867648852011-03-30T22:19:00.004+05:302011-03-30T22:27:06.365+05:30Queen Bass<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmW6VXXrTFJV6R9zud4VN64kah1JHvmDOAqvZlpxCWBsvd5usHRRZXhwu-676RZPdnrSu-oQNgCMr5Q6aTE2Ixj-1OdIleVLaV60bpMsI7EWghoPJP6OqYRvHPzREPzLLUZQkOgA/s1600/Queen+Bass.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmW6VXXrTFJV6R9zud4VN64kah1JHvmDOAqvZlpxCWBsvd5usHRRZXhwu-676RZPdnrSu-oQNgCMr5Q6aTE2Ixj-1OdIleVLaV60bpMsI7EWghoPJP6OqYRvHPzREPzLLUZQkOgA/s400/Queen+Bass.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589916167172960978" /></a><br /><div>Made while watching the India vs. Pakistan match, which joyfully it seems that we shall win. Quite an entertaining evening in the end.</div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-64362038662411318042011-03-05T18:24:00.000+05:302011-03-05T18:25:52.713+05:30Pokey Rainbow<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZiMx1xNfHxYWyIx1wHl4A9-XV9YaJbZyBHIGdHGbnUWk8oV84QVcDrS-WRNVBBVGw-Ye3IoGOQnu_ThsKf3kndW6sKs9WBRhvWc8Suhyphenhyphen3lzhfpaKSH1wC6mHX0B_VyLP6-53Og/s1600/pokeyrainbow.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZiMx1xNfHxYWyIx1wHl4A9-XV9YaJbZyBHIGdHGbnUWk8oV84QVcDrS-WRNVBBVGw-Ye3IoGOQnu_ThsKf3kndW6sKs9WBRhvWc8Suhyphenhyphen3lzhfpaKSH1wC6mHX0B_VyLP6-53Og/s400/pokeyrainbow.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5580578681447887618" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-77125706927436350912011-03-05T10:20:00.004+05:302011-03-05T15:27:28.495+05:30Don't Panic (Reprise)<div><i>And then, the evil aliens tried to blow their spaceship to bits by firing two missiles at them. But thanks to the "improbability drive" that powered the ship, and an accident that involved trying to compute the finest cup of tea, the missiles were transformed into a bowl of flowers and a whale!</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>The bowl of flowers, it turns out, was a being that had time and again been killed off on various worlds and in various forms by one of the main characters. Thus it exclaimed, "Oh no! Not again!". The whale tried to be friendly to the ground that was rushing up to meet it.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>... Just realized how absurd it sounds when I explain <a href="http://i.imgur.com/B1aaE.jpg">HG2G</a>.</div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-15746112561578361122011-03-01T13:02:00.002+05:302011-03-01T14:28:52.957+05:30Instant Karma<b>Story 1:</b><br />Douchebag wearing shades and leather jacket at train station decides that lines aren't for him. Cuts line right to the front, shouts at people in queue who tell him to get in line. Tries to buy ticket. Ticket guy says "First class or GTFO!". Douchebag slinks away to end of line which is now much longer. Instant Karma.<br /><br /><b>Story 2:</b><br />Rash driver dude drives rashly on the highway whilst talking on cellphone. Takes a sharp dangerous turn, thus very rudely cutting me off. Continues driving like nothing's happened and blows next signal. Look of satisfaction on my face as he's stopped by cop just 100m downroad from the signal! Instant Karma.<br /><div><br /></div><div><b>Story 3:</b></div><div>Person laughs at people for falling off windsurfing board. Said people swim and dunk person into water. Forced Instant Karma! (Yes, this one was me :-/)</div><div><br /></div><div>Share your stories of Instant Karma too! :)</div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-66685781948664014832011-02-13T12:08:00.004+05:302011-02-13T15:08:44.954+05:302011 Is Going To Be an Eventful Year<div>Tunisia frees itself. Then Egypt frees itself. We watch on in awe. Now Algeria and other countries are rioting for their rights against dictatorships and autocracies.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anonymous starts where WikiLeaks left and takes the fight to corporations and Big Government. This is going to be interesting. Oh and still waiting for those BofA documents...!</div><div><br /></div><div>Back home, scam after scam rocks the political establishment. Are we finally saying "enough is enough" to corruption?</div><div><br /></div><div>In America, the Republican majority seems intent on destroying whatever economic recovery has happened, intent on pushing America further into debt via military spending and the middle class into poverty.</div><div><br /></div><div>... and we're just 44 days into the year. Eventful 2011 shall be.</div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-37010514579660859132011-02-13T01:31:00.006+05:302011-02-13T02:02:41.399+05:30Watercolours in the Sand<div style="text-align: left;">The Wise Master of Paint looked up from her easel, admiring the wonderful sunrise as her very own work of art. "It is le finished!" she uttered as she washed the brushes and drained the paint.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">She then tipped the many-coloured palette on its side and thick paint splattered onto the beach, mixing and drying, forming a blob. Grimy percolation. Watercolours in the Sand...</div><div style="text-align:left;"><div><br /></div></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Qe7WXKkt-8aOlyqDT_B3_nxxfbbclyC6BUPCxsES7akLRkj4vtHUSbyTiLkoyGNg1lgIvGk47NfiN2VWvynQWLLoyBAVuGhuGe9VLNp0HWxXIytKSkS8pXruXrokuyhjrwBlVA/s1600/watercoloursinthesand.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Qe7WXKkt-8aOlyqDT_B3_nxxfbbclyC6BUPCxsES7akLRkj4vtHUSbyTiLkoyGNg1lgIvGk47NfiN2VWvynQWLLoyBAVuGhuGe9VLNp0HWxXIytKSkS8pXruXrokuyhjrwBlVA/s400/watercoloursinthesand.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572902738097096178" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-37523485910587800592011-01-16T03:16:00.002+05:302011-01-16T03:37:36.729+05:30The Changing Horoscopes!By now you've surely heard of the news going around: Thanks to the eternal and steady drift of the starts, horoscopes once fixed 2000 years ago no longer hold. The start and end dates have shifted - so if you were Leo earlier, possibly you are Virgo now. Or something.<br /><br />Logically, the question arises - do you look up your horoscope based on when you were born or which sign you fall under in the current setting? But setting that aside, let's turn to something else.<br /><br />I recently got hold of a copy of "The Demon Haunted World" by Carl Sagan. A paragraph from it reads:<br /><br />A scientist places an ad in a Paris newspaper offering a free horoscope. He receives about 150 replies, each as requested, detailing a place and time of birth. Every respondent is then sent the identical horoscope, along with a questionnaire asking how accurate the horoscope had been. 94% of the respondents (and 90% if their families and friends) reply that they were at least recognizable in the horoscope. However, the horoscope was drawn up for a French serial killer. If an astrologer can get this far without even meeting his subjects, think how well someone sensitive to human nuances and not overly scrupulous might do.<br /><br />... just sayin' you know... That's all.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-73979856770816969042011-01-14T02:46:00.003+05:302011-01-16T02:42:10.946+05:30Continuation PlanningMozambique is one of the few remaining serene places in the world today, unspoiled by visiting tourists and their ravaging brethren: tour bus operators. Why? Well... mainly because it's a country in Souther Africa with... let us politely say "social problems".<br /><br />I met a client from Mozambique today. "It's not all that bad", said he, "only rarely do you get robbed. I think it's been only 4 times in the last 10 years for me."<br /><br />Shock and horror were clearly displayed on my face. I think he caught on to it, for he tried to allay my fears: "Oh it's not a problem. If someone pulls a gun on you, we simply give him all our cash. Then we go back to office and claim it all back. No risk at all!".<br /><br />And he continued on in his mellow calming voice. I wasn't paying attention though: business plans were churning through my mind. Costs ("Price of red paint?") and target segments ("my frailness would draw in clients") were running through my head.<br /><br />Outsourcing ("perhaps I can hire people to get robbed for me?") and thoughts of insurance were hammered out as well. Seemed like a perfect business plan.<br /><br />However, when the topic of "Continuation Planning" was raised... I sort of decided against the idea.<br /><br />Still. Mozambique. Not all that bad huh?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-45497418018703265792011-01-06T08:09:00.001+05:302011-01-06T08:12:10.299+05:30Can You See The Sun?Can you see the Sun?<br />Misty dawns loom<br />White light, hard won<br />For flowers to bloom.<br /><br />Can you see the Sun?<br />Midday casts white<br />Shadows and outlines<br />Of smoke and mirrors.<br /><br />Can you see the Sun?<br />Evening rushes<br />In a hurry to<br />Herald a Night Sky.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-269807037891931862010-12-26T08:43:00.001+05:302011-01-06T08:12:26.613+05:30PhotoframeHer hair was the photoframe<div>That completed her face</div><div>And compiled it</div><div>Into sunshine</div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-73267409083486826502010-10-10T12:21:00.001+05:302010-10-10T12:24:57.760+05:30Strange Feather<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrMFxJ6kaei0HDrQ7GID1XjG7qKonkeEk2QErcejp1L6YDa0WFt7DEVh0RlWPzTiSqocpknoSx-PtRQX7OgmR84LbpvRBNt72jgYeJsOii2wb2uAhLDFTZkK7MG9HxIV-IC2iK9A/s1600/Strange+Feather_BGBlack.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrMFxJ6kaei0HDrQ7GID1XjG7qKonkeEk2QErcejp1L6YDa0WFt7DEVh0RlWPzTiSqocpknoSx-PtRQX7OgmR84LbpvRBNt72jgYeJsOii2wb2uAhLDFTZkK7MG9HxIV-IC2iK9A/s400/Strange+Feather_BGBlack.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526307305179985234" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtg3Nqhte-j5gW3VERo7pBAftZj1vw7ENGRHGSlo678Qam1aINjqYuWpWv0TVlsr1qQTuJSBnJy7buW6KZGIGwXlJvYYeTdkHxGAtBcXuWitMJzfKzHMGoRuAI09TOlCtbvNXOg/s1600/Strange+Feather+Header.png"><br /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-138661559106475292010-09-22T08:10:00.002+05:302010-09-22T08:13:27.294+05:30Dust to Dust"I'M SIGNIFICANT!" screamed the speck of dust.<br /><br />And he was. He had been flicked off Julius Ceasar's tunic as he was stabbed by the Guardians of Democaracy.<br /><br />He had been a part of the red tikka on Subhas Chandra Bose's forehead as he signed a document in blood.<br /><br />He was the first to be hit by a radioactive particles at Nagasaki.<br /><br />He had been catapulted a million miles into the atmosphere and finally landed on the arms of a lone protester who stopped rolling tanks in China.<br /><br />He was a significant speck of dust.<br /><br />But now he was being judged. His crime: Hitching a ride on a space shuttle and trying to escape - leave this gravity well.<br /><br />You see, specs of dust weren't allowed to leave here. It was in their contract. It didn't stop millions of them from trying each year though.<br /><br />So he was now being judged. The judge: A large, heavy rock. One of the Establishment. Oh they didn't mind not leaving. They had it good. Comfortable. Once people grow up, they have no idea what's cool anymore.<br /><br />Our Significant Speck of Dust sighed. He knew the end result. Prison. Sentenced to a life of drowning in an ocean and living on the sea floor. A refugee dust particle forever with no chance of escape. He screamed his lungs out.<br /><br />I think it's time we got this bit of dust to a psychologist.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-88151904018358160422010-09-16T22:51:00.004+05:302010-09-16T23:05:55.649+05:30Curiosity Killed the CatHashish was a Tinkerer.<br /><br />That's what we called them. Tinkerers. Loathed by the good bible fearing folks of the town's crowded streets, they hid themselves in Mommy's basement and other dark unnoticed virtual corners.<br /><br />They aren't Normal. For one, they stay awake after sunset, sometimes All Night. That's how most of them are caught anyway.<br /><br />Though, they have it fairly easy in this country. East of here, Tinkerers are publicly quartered every weekend. "For Sport". At a time when the biggest religions are publicly traded in stock markets, it ain't wise to anger the Mobs of Belief.<br /><br />If my father had his way, they'd all be locked up and exposed to small doses of Alpha-radiation. Not enough to kill, just enough to grotesquely mutate - he thought the irony was perfect: they'd finally resemble their damned creations in the end.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-7088247114351279592010-08-11T19:52:00.006+05:302010-09-16T23:05:18.061+05:30Flea Market"Come pick a religion! I've got plenty to choose from!" cried the hawker on the street corner, “The best deals in eternity! Original Sins and Voodoo dolls, all at half prices!”<br /><br />Maya and Samir stepped up to examine his wares. “You can get some excellent deals in the black market,” said Maya, “you just need to know how to bargain.”<br /><br />The lazy flea market settled down in this corner of the city every Wednesday, catering to the religious needs of one and all. The Rich Ones visited the North side of the market. They parked their Jaguars above the street, its gorgeous underbelly sharply visible to the envious crowd below.<br /><br />Maya took a step back and glanced down the street. A year ago she wouldn’t have dreamt of visiting this – the East side of the market. The Poor Side. No air conditioned “official” vendors like the North, here hawkers and knock-off salesmen reigned supreme.<br /><br />Samir followed her. He saw salesmen of all sorts - some in brightly coloured attire, others in black sober suits and a cornered minority, stoned and stark naked. They handled different segments of the market ofcourse. He was shocked by the variety and the noise. It was his<br />first visit here after all.<br /><br />He caught the glint off the golden teeth of a holy preacher. His robe and missing fingers immediately gave away his faith. Sometime in the past, not content with merely disfiguring hidden parts of the human body, some bold faiths had resorted to birth-sacrifices of toes, eyelids and even fingers. These sacrifices were not only for differentiation, but also a cost-effective way of preventing conversion.<br /><br />Maya circled back to the street corner. A <a href="http://www.lyricsfreak.com/f/frank+zappa/muffin+man_20056583.html">dense but radiant</a> design in the corner seemed interesting. Bright colours and paganism was in vogue again these days.<br /><br />She pointed. “How much?”<br /><br />“20% of your income for the next two years."<br /><br />"Whaat? That's too high!"<br /><br />Ah, a bargaining tactic thought Samir. Inexperienced in recreational religion as he was, he knew this was a steal! Plus if serviced properly, it would easily be a few years before they bored of it.<br /><br />They settled at 5%. "Well back to the University", she thought, as she hid her most recent purchase within her. It was illegal on Campus ofcourse.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19032164.post-68563633201964666062010-08-04T11:32:00.003+05:302010-08-04T11:55:42.586+05:30Red Panda<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWc-yFInPSZOJRah_vnqD98jO7kMAggupsDkAuJRnr-HjtL4_RNx6tltRvhE4uslnqiRQA8Y9sLWuyrdt4e-HCGVaLqfgCBhyY1Ubct6nr2o1RIzX0c7eZgMaHpoArDjyOr5GUDA/s1600/Red+Panda.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 344px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWc-yFInPSZOJRah_vnqD98jO7kMAggupsDkAuJRnr-HjtL4_RNx6tltRvhE4uslnqiRQA8Y9sLWuyrdt4e-HCGVaLqfgCBhyY1Ubct6nr2o1RIzX0c7eZgMaHpoArDjyOr5GUDA/s400/Red+Panda.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501431354834448226" border="0" /></a>Mowgli looks upon his cute <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_panda">Red Panda</a> friend, Kichi. An opening scene from Jungle Book Shõnen.<br /><br />I had watched Jungle Book many years ago. It was on the very edge of my memory when someone reminded me of this absolutely <a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fe/Ailurus_fulgens_RoterPanda_LesserPanda.jpg">cute</a> and <a href="http://tigertailfoods.com/wp/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/red_panda_close_up.jpg">adorable</a> critter.<br /><br />So, I give you, my first coloured vector drawing. Made in Adobe Illustrator CS3 as usual.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11828184204343825487noreply@blogger.com3