tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98019362011-11-27T17:07:28.466-08:00And no, I don't like Arundhati Roy!Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comBlogger1241100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-7986350967890098862008-12-26T17:24:00.000-08:002008-12-26T17:28:43.397-08:00

Preamble:Thanks to those lovely people at Easyjet, our Swiss trip came to an end before it even began - at Manchester airport's departure lounge. I cannot deny that I was incredibly worried about the value of the monopoly money Galiya and I earn our keep in (also known as Pound Sterling) in Switzerland, and was fretting and fuming over how much the whole thing would cost. The previous night, I

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-6322291210756931362008-09-13T04:26:00.000-07:002008-09-13T07:11:12.624-07:00

This is the last post that shall rear its ugly head on http://siddhuw.blogspot.com. This blog, due to inactivity, is moving to Wordpress - http://siddhuw.wordpress.com, hoping that the change of host shall result in a spurt of activity. Yes, it's rather like Ektaaaa KKKappooor affixing extra ts and Ks and as to get people watching. And I think it works; if it weren't for the extra Ks strewn all

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-60146085388073490802008-07-20T16:11:00.000-07:002008-07-20T16:13:10.245-07:00

I know the bloke's been getting a lot of flak, and his terror detention law is absolutely reprehensible, but he does seem sometimes to talk a lot more sense than most western politicos would care to in relation to the Israeli occupation of Palestine.http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/7516379.stmWish he meant it, and if he does, wish Olmert would listen to him!

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-14145838726983545452008-06-23T04:02:00.000-07:002008-06-23T04:06:41.533-07:00

Due to an unfortunate concatenation of circumstances, we decided we should open my car's sunroof yesterday. Now, this being Britain, my sunroof hardly got any practice over the years. As we tried to open it, the cable snapped, and the sunroof wouldn't close completely. When everything with the world looked gray, bleak, and cost at least £120, a little bit of gray in the name of duct tape dropped

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-8461329705229663072008-06-09T13:50:00.000-07:002008-06-09T13:55:09.493-07:00

Note to prudes and author's parents: This is a work of fiction. Honest.I do not remember whose idea it was to start with. I have a nagging fear in the back of my mind that it was my putrid mind that came up with it to start with. However, arguing over who thought of it first is neither here nor there. All of us had to live through the consequences of the brainwave. Now that the first paragraph

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-481164937084215182008-06-08T06:27:00.000-07:002008-06-11T15:31:00.971-07:00

As regular readers (if I have any left) are well aware, I have rather fallen out of the habit of writing quite as regularly as I used to. The era of my highest productivity harks back to a time when I was single, and entirely convinced of my complete inability to captivate a woman who wasn't (a) ugly as sin, and (b) younger than forty. As it has always been my considered opinion that what the

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-50223079121455447032008-05-02T05:11:00.000-07:002008-05-02T05:16:21.154-07:00

This is one book I'm definitely buying. Arvind Adiga was a correspondent for Time Magazine, and he writes a fable that could possibly come true in the 'booming, shining' India we can't get out of our heads.A few quotes from an interview of his by Arthur J. Pais,1. The shameless way wealth is flaunted [in India] is extraordinary. Poor people [see] the money the very rich have. 2. The Indian

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-80452253967499422972008-02-21T03:17:00.000-08:002008-02-21T03:20:55.878-08:00

It's not often that I find a place so repulsive that I wish to make a public statement regarding its unfitness for a visit. However, this is one of those times.Dehradun was presumably a beautiful place. Ruskin Bond did quite like it. But today, it's probably a place best avoided unless you're immediately taking a bus out to Mussoorie. The city is filthy, dusty (my hands and hair are caked with

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-64105522179773687252008-02-18T02:24:00.000-08:002008-02-20T02:46:45.975-08:00

When Lonely Planet issued dire warnings of touts in ConnaughtPlace, I cast it nary a glance. As a pukka Hindustani, I believed I was unlikely to be caused much grief by them.But boy, was I ever wrong? Every travel agency claims to be the sole official representative of the Indian government, and has a couple of seedy looking characters trying to dupe you into their office. These people are easy

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-5559277448709975882008-02-18T02:14:00.000-08:002008-02-18T02:24:04.506-08:00

Uttar Pradesh seems to be flooded with quacks hawking their 'skills' to everybody travelling by train through the state. Ever since the train crossed the state border into UP, every single square inch of space not taken u by people going about their ablutions in the puvlic eye seems to have been taken over by advertisements in the Devnagri script for the aforementioned medical practitioners.It

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-49402244492726830182008-02-16T11:39:00.000-08:002008-02-16T11:43:03.762-08:00

I am currently in my homeland; spending the longest time I have there since 2005. As I walked around a bookstore in Chennai, I stumbled upon a Lonely Planet guidebook for India (‘stumbled upon’ would probably be an incorrect phrase given that the India guidebook was probably the hardest thing to find in the store – Lonely Planet guidebooks to every other place in the world, Papua New Guinea

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-63757852671770529482007-12-26T03:49:00.001-08:002007-12-26T08:08:31.804-08:00

My best friends know I am no shutterbug. It is but rarely that I take the camera out to take photos of anything that does not bear a striking resemblance to myself. Most of my photos thus end up looking something like this: Or the photos have to be just plain ridiculous; something like this: But the other day, when I was walking down Belfast, I saw this taxicab. As most people who live in

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-57565984355574598272007-12-24T15:02:00.000-08:002007-12-24T17:28:12.217-08:00

I apologise for having been tardy with my updates for an extremely long time. I have no excuses. Well, I do have excuses; but none that will wash. However, I am happy (or sorry) to inform the minuscule few that still frequent my blog to check for updates (or to confirm its demise prior to holding a party to celebrate the end of the murder of the Queen's language) that I do have a fair bit to

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-49718798438085197162007-09-28T11:31:00.001-07:002007-09-28T12:38:45.211-07:00

Warning: Highly cynical post ahead.The other day, a friend of mine called me over to this pub where a few new Indian students were meeting up. One of the people at this little gathering was this girl who was, I was informed, a political science graduate from rather a respected university. Though I am no more than a dilettante in affairs political as a Computer Scientist, we got into a discussion.

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-7765907734427121332007-08-25T15:44:00.000-07:002007-08-30T10:41:01.537-07:00

It has come to the end.It was more than two years ago I decided to leave a land which I decided I could never live in - nanny states and regimentation were something that I could never stomach (one of the many reasons why I can't join the army - though some of my friends, them of little faith, have fervently expressed the desire to see me take the physical).It was about that time that I decided

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-60750489048305099822007-07-17T17:48:00.000-07:002007-07-17T17:53:52.822-07:00

So today a few of us were on what one would term a lad’s night out. Or if one were to be more precise, what one would term a lad’s night out if one were of the ilk that enjoyed being liberal with the truth. If the truth be told, it was one of those (many) nights where the women shied away from the pleasure of our company. This is, of course, nothing to surprise the discerning reader – who is well

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-992678425897441772007-07-06T02:14:00.000-07:002007-07-08T15:19:21.919-07:00

I haven't forgotten the existence of this blog. It has always remained in a corner of my not-too-well-organised mind. But, the last two months have been unbelievably hectic, as I approach the end of two years in Europe (and hope to, God willing, finish at the end of this month, and graduate at the end of the next). I have been, since the morning, listening to Tibetan/North east Indian hymns with

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-5985495966893640392007-04-24T17:46:00.000-07:002007-04-24T19:24:14.168-07:00

The rediff.com message board is the place to visit if one wants to see how moralistic, judgmental, racist, opinionated, boorish and uncivilised many of us Indians are. Most arguments are constructed with scant regard to grammar, spelling, or the decencies of debate. Though the first two are not of paramount importance, one could well do without having to see messages like:'mulla,,, tumhe toh alla

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-21191544724162210592007-04-19T08:46:00.000-07:002007-04-19T09:02:43.222-07:00

Short Post. A musing, more like!Everybody has probably heard the stereotype of the Germans being efficient, almost to the point of being automatons. Being a politically correct soul, I tried to assure myself that the stereotype was just that, a stereotype.But I did have second thoughts about that just a few minutes ago, as I stood outside the Informatics building, getting some fresh air after

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-68453598904715789642007-03-17T03:20:00.000-07:002007-03-17T03:23:47.523-07:00

Statutory warning: Unless you’ve watched The Last King of Scotland, you’re not going to make head or tail of this post. I suggest you watch it. Nae, I order you to watch it. I had a dream that says so. I had just graduated from one of the million substandard engineering colleges that dot the Indian landscape. We had a celebratory dinner at home. My father tried to appear to be happy.

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1171413377119338332007-02-13T16:36:00.000-08:002007-02-13T18:07:06.388-08:00

Everyday, I see in the Indian newspapers stories of India’s incredible surge. Not a single day passes without my reading about how we are fighting for a permanent seat in the UNSC. I hear my friends back home talk of salaries with enough zeroes in them to be beyond the comprehension of an impecunious graduate student like self. I hear of Tata acquiring Corus, and of the rising Indian middle

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1171079399186349202007-02-09T19:49:00.000-08:002007-02-13T18:08:47.397-08:00

Those who have long memories may remember a promise I had made in my previous post – to talk of the harrowing experience that had taught me that I was not to be a Don Juan. I am not usually the kind of chap who keeps promises of this kind (or of any kind, if we must nitpick). But, since I am currently waiting for a huge download to complete, and can find nothing better to do with my time than to

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1170492961777959652007-02-03T00:56:00.000-08:002007-02-13T18:09:01.475-08:00

Over the years, I’d become used to the idea of being the one engaged in a perpetually bootless pursuit of tail. That I was not to be one of the Don Juans of the world was driven into me when I was about seventeen, and the first girl I’d ever tried to ask out gave me the raspberry (a story that merits a post of its own, surely). She spoke in no uncertain terms of what she thought of me, and went

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1165199085658142082006-12-03T18:24:00.000-08:002007-02-13T18:05:22.665-08:00

This story is from a milieu long past, and from a place I left almost a year and a half ago – a not-so-fair city on the banks of a beautifully grey river called (somewhat aptly) the Cooum; a city that was once called Madras. This most riveting anecdote had almost slipped my mind - consigned to my long-term memory and apparently lost to humanity forever. My readers would never have known of it if

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1164168224577244302006-11-21T19:19:00.002-08:002007-02-13T18:06:00.633-08:00

I'm doing this course in Human-Computer Interaction (don't ask me why, it's a long story) this semester. It is an interesting course, but not interesting enough by a long shot.Just this week, I was assigned the task of designing a remote control that would allow you to control a TV, a DVD player, an MP3 player, a video surveillance unit, an organiser, and America's nuclear arsenal and space

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1162321494671064662006-10-31T10:34:00.000-08:002007-02-13T18:06:21.445-08:00

To the fine folk who visit my blog regularly:This may be the last post I'll be writing in a while. I'm in a bit of a blue funk right now, and find myself incapable of thinking cheery thoughts - or thoughts, even. Ah well, here goes, then... Hope I get out of this here funk sooner rather than later!Living in a country without speaking the lingua franca is never the most pleasant experience.

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1161222758703606042006-10-18T18:48:00.001-07:002007-02-13T18:06:45.873-08:00

I know it has been a long time since I last updated my blog, but I have not had access to the Internet at home for the last month and a half. It also did not help that I was kept busy; doing more work in the last month than I ever have in any month before (and hopefully since). But thankfully, it has not been all work, as I have spent a fair bit of my time acquainting myself with the forbidden

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1155883493131965982006-08-17T23:41:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:07:26.399-08:00

According to my philosopher and guide, Mr. Jorge Cham (the lunatic who sketches PhD Comics), grad school is the last refuge of the kind of chappie who wishes to postpone his entry into the real world (indefinitely, if possible).I do not deny that I am inspired by the idea of avoiding any contact with people in the real world.I am satisfied with the little all that grad school funding provides me,

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1154138477482624282006-07-28T19:01:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:07:46.907-08:00

I had been planning to write Part II for quite some time now, but work – that infernal thing – had its ugly tentacles wrapped all around me. At least when I wasn’t playing cricket or gallivanting across Scotland, that is. And thus, I never got down to completing this saga of undying love…We were a few months into the eighth standard when Amit decided that what he felt for Nisha was the real thing

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1152850134528749372006-07-13T21:08:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:08:01.736-08:00

I’ve never watched There’s something about Mary, but I presume it’s one of those corny romantic comedies about this girl who manages to turn pretty much every single person on. If you’re one of those hard-headed men of business who do not believe in the existence of such women, you are likely to scoff. And I would have, too. If it weren’t for the fact that I am one of those poor prunes who would

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1152657185972003602006-07-11T15:05:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:14:56.391-08:00

I do feel helpless very often.I remember most distinctly that I felt helpless when:(a) In my second grade, a burly son of a navy sepoy named Sunil ground a seven year old self to the dust on my first day in a new school.(b) A equally burly sixteen-year-old classmate of mine (a veteran of several failures, in his 6th, 7th, 8th and 9th grades respectively) slapped me accross the face, and

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1151339485781303122006-06-26T08:58:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:09:19.629-08:00

I was looking through my comment space, and found a comment - which, though it raised several valid issues - which said that I was attempt to create animosity between the North and the South of my country.I would just like to clarify a bit on that. (Digression: I just realized my blog seems to be on its way to becoming a complete drag. It's time that I begin to lighten up once again. I guess I

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1150863430370518642006-06-20T20:28:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:09:37.661-08:00

I was sitting down in the kitchen with a couple of friends of mine, and having an intellectual discussion, as is my wont.It was then that my moral flatmate (regular readers may remember my allusion to him during the post on 'moral Indian girls' -- too lazy to search for the link) decided to walk in, equipped with his voice like a foghorn, and his radical Indian (read Hindu) concepts.Some idiot

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1150465794764774472006-06-16T06:31:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:10:12.481-08:00

As I have tirelessly reminded my (pitifully few) readers over the past few weeks or so, I am just back from what I euphemistically call a Eurotrip. However, if any one of you has watched that timeless classic, it was absolutely nothing like the movie. Though I did rather loudly claim that my Aryan ancestors left the Caucasus because they could not stand the sexual licentiousness of those of my

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1149630418395314352006-06-06T14:46:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:10:34.424-08:00

For the first week of what Mrs. Peters had referred to as my close association with Kaveri, things moved smoothly. I managed to speak less than a trappist monk normally would, and if I did at any time have to speak to her, I managed to keep my gaze affixed on some convenient wall in the middle distance. Kaveri had, after three days of my company, probably decided that I was either homosexual,

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1148516456322328802006-05-24T17:04:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:11:06.694-08:00

I realize that I have left the story of my close encounters with the rowdy kind incomplete. But I am currently in the midst of a hectic trip accross Europe on a shoestring budget.I was away the last few days pinching pennies and admiring the natural pulchritude (not of the two legged female variety, you perverts) in the Scottish Highlands, and hope to write a travelogue down before I forget it

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1147822005223820272006-05-16T16:26:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:11:25.044-08:00

Posterity will have it that I have always been the blameless kind. I never drove a Bajaj Pulsar down a patchy 100 foot Indian road like one would a Hayabusa down the Autobahn. (In fact, I never owned a Bajaj Pulsar, but even if I did, it is unlikely that I would have constituted a risk to traffic) I never did wheelies to get the attention of the ‘figuru’ walking down the other side of the road.

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1147054161242206802006-05-07T17:49:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:12:11.110-08:00

The other day, I was having an extremely profound conversation with a friend. Or rather, if one were to be more accurate, my friend was attempting to have an extremely profound conversation with me, while I was contributing very little. I often find it difficult to make a dint in profound conversations, possibly because of my vapidness and irreflectivity.Be that as it may, my friend was asking me

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1145914127117187822006-04-24T14:21:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:12:30.212-08:00

Exams have reared their ugly head again. They have arrived again to blight my life, and blot the sun out. The worst thing about being a post-graduate student is that you suddenly realize you're writing exams all over again, though you'd taken a solemn vow over that hot cup of coffee in the neighbourhood tea stall never to write an exam again after you manage to scrape through a Bachelor's degree.

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1144725192959872442006-04-10T19:33:00.001-07:002007-02-13T18:13:03.606-08:00

If all the pseudo-secularists were to have their way, one can expect an ordnance of this kind to grace India in 2020.People belonging to (hitherto) Forward Castes are hereby ordered to wear big yellow bands on their arms to identify themselves.Additionally, all Hindus are, by immediate effect, ordered to return their passports to the nearest passport office, as stipulated by the Promotion of

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1142285326166718332006-03-13T13:28:00.000-08:002007-02-13T18:13:39.622-08:00

Something’s been the matter with me the last few days. I’ve actually been rather serious – a lot more serious than is my wont. Instead of spouting unadulterated bilge that is supposed to elicit guffaws of mirth, I have been spouting unadulterated bilge that is supposed to shock and provoke introspection (though it seems to provoke hasty mouse movements towards the right hand corner of the screen

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1141360720684090352006-03-02T20:38:00.000-08:002007-02-13T18:14:41.733-08:00

It is rather a shame that I had forgotten all about this poem all these years. I'd read of Kaakorikaand and Ram Prasad Bismil in history lessons in school - however the passion that ignited young men of his ilk to sacrifice their all for their country was something I could never understand, much as I tried.I could never put myself in the place of these young people who perceived within them a

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1141148555721960172006-02-28T09:42:00.000-08:002007-02-13T18:15:19.091-08:00

Falling off GoatfellWe landed in Arran in due time. A few lingering suspicions I had of whether I had actually docked in France by mistake were dismissed when I realized I could understand what the blokes on the shore were mouthing (unless of course the French had seen sense at long last and decided to switch to English). Arran is a huge island, and does not have as many roads as a lazy city

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1140796936853813402006-02-24T08:00:00.000-08:002006-02-24T08:02:16.873-08:00

Some chap sent me an invite to contribute to his blog. I didn't want to contribute to his blog (especially after I had seen it), nor do I want to now. But I have unfortunately been added in as a team member (primarily thanks to my monumental stupidity).Well, what's done has been done, but I'd like to get out of being a team member of that blog. Anybody knows how I can do that?

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1140479920189493122006-02-20T15:58:00.000-08:002007-02-13T18:16:27.839-08:00

The isle of Arran is supposed to be somewhere on the west coast of Scotland. I am not sure exactly where, so don’t ask me where it is if you aren’t either. That’s why God created Google Earth.Irrespective of whether I am sure of its exact coordinate position or not, the fact remains that I did spend the weekend there. Two days during which I speculated if I was closer to France than I usually am,

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1138735859503465452006-01-31T11:30:00.000-08:002007-02-13T18:17:05.504-08:00

I am no Don Juan. Casanova would probably squirm in his grave if someone compared me to him. My charm, erudition, politeness and keenness may be bywords in the circles that I frequent - but remarks on my way with women often provokes a hiss or a peal of unrestrained laughter from the worms who happen to be my comrades-in-arms.I can well imagine this conversation between an egg, a bean and crumpet

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1137621598308552112006-01-18T13:59:00.000-08:002006-01-18T13:59:58.313-08:00

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1137584089792971742006-01-18T03:13:00.000-08:002007-02-13T18:17:30.468-08:00

It has been over a year since I began to write unadulterated, Grade-A rubbish for this blog of mine. As I trawled through my blog, I discovered that I rang in 2005 with a list of the people of the year 2004 . It is therefore in keeping with tradition that I continue this year by presenting the Siddhu Persons of the Year 2005 – a list of people, organizations and animals that made 2005 an

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1133905237553701452005-12-06T13:38:00.000-08:002007-02-13T18:18:00.915-08:00

The worst thing about trying to get yourself three degrees is that it does away with a lot of your time – time which could be spent pursuing the better things in life – like sleep, women, alcohol and a literary career. Particularly the first, as I never had what one would term stunning successes with the opposite sex, and a literary career may come quicker to a dyslexic than to me (as the award

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1130940486898631752005-11-02T06:03:00.000-08:002005-11-02T06:08:06.913-08:00

Hello everyone,For those of you who may have thought that I have gone into hiding, been shot seven times in the head while travelling on the London tube, or met some equally miserable fate, I have bad news.I'm alive, well and kicking. Well, to temper the bad news with some good for all the sadists out there, I'm not physically in the pink.Anyway, I write this to notify all of you that I have a

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1129410373488252312005-10-15T13:58:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:18:44.457-08:00

As this author pens this piece, he realizes that he has been terribly inactive on the blogging front for the last couple of weeks. But I must hasten to explain that it is because I have had to be terribly active in the real world – something I’m not particularly keen about, but something I have to do to justify the faith that the European Union has (mis)placed in me.To get down to actually

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128048919282938202005-09-29T19:50:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:19:11.694-08:00

Weekdays being what they are, I did not have any time at all to get down to penning a blog. But since my weekend begins on Friday and I don't plan to get up before 12 tomorrow in any case, I spent hours toiling over my first photo blog on The Blog of Small ThingsThis photoblog takes the reader/viewer through the whole of my last Saturday, which was - to put it very mildly - a great day!So, please

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128048617093734422005-09-29T19:49:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:50:17.096-07:00

Motoring down the A-720 towards a little place in the middle of nowhere called North Berwick. The beginning of one of the greatest days I’ve had in recent times. 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128048382150812792005-09-29T19:45:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:46:22.153-07:00

At North Berwick, right next to a mouldy old ruin that you have to pay three pounds to see. Fiscal prudence and common sense prevailed, and we decided to climb a beautiful (and free) hill instead. 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128048289371024062005-09-29T19:44:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:44:49.373-07:00

Zonka (I’m sorry but I really can’t spell his name right L ), Arnav and Rohit standing next to the wall that separated us from a very picturesque beach (and an even more picturesque girl). 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128048181079686162005-09-29T19:42:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:43:01.080-07:00

Steven from Germany, flanked by an incredibly handsome young man from India…er…Oops, wrong photo. 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128048106261705032005-09-29T19:41:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:41:46.263-07:00

Spending a Saturday morning walking down the long, beautiful and easy road to Perdition, when we should have unraveling the mysteries of TCP/IP or some other such unpleasant creature. 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128048029735631722005-09-29T19:40:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:40:29.736-07:00

Scotland is so incredibly beautiful that I can’t think of anything derogatory to say about this photo. 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128047884283658452005-09-29T19:37:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:38:04.286-07:00

A typically unfit CS student after a breathless climb of fifty feet. 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128047821698514352005-09-29T19:36:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:37:01.700-07:00

John from Germany and Eva from China 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128047712664388712005-09-29T19:34:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:59:17.210-07:00

‘Er…where are we?’‘Hmmm…that’s a very good question…’‘Will we ever get back home?’‘Not if we wait for those two (ref last pic) to catch up.’ 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128047619724022362005-09-29T19:33:00.000-07:002005-09-29T20:24:28.246-07:00

At the Seabird café, trying to chill out while not thinking of the horrendously expensive hot chocolate (and the horrendously ferocious Doberman at the next table who was eyeing me most unpleasantly)

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128047589861796472005-09-29T19:32:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:33:09.866-07:00

Arnav likes the birds! Sometimes even the ones that actually fly… 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128047187678764302005-09-29T19:25:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:26:27.680-07:00

It wasn’t all over at North Berwick. Back at Edinburgh, Die Deutschen in meiner Wohnung waren genug freundlich, eine Partei an ihrem Haus zu organisieren. Danke schol Stephan, Florian und John. (Try using babelfish to figure that bit out, Auslanders ;) )N.B: You see here an unscrupulous young man who looks eerily like the author of this blog cheating at poker. Also in the frame are Parag and

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128046983639328402005-09-29T19:22:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:57:25.840-07:00

Balaji and Shehzad. N.B: No, Shehzad’s not drunk, he’s ‘like that only’! 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128046902114305132005-09-29T19:20:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:21:42.116-07:00

Kalpesh bin Laden – who came out of the closet just about when Osama stepped into one, (I mean the terrorist hide-out kind-of closet, you perverts!), George (of the Jungle), and Shehzad 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128046691115617032005-09-29T19:17:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:18:11.116-07:00

Balaji, the most eligible Indian bachelor in the University of Edinburgh. He knows to dance the Salsa, Cha Cha Cha, Swing and a few hundred other dance forms. All he needs now is a girl who’ll actually dance with him.;) 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128046556476164842005-09-29T19:15:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:15:56.480-07:00

Extremely dangerous creature. Statutory Warning: Could be easily mistaken for that thing in The Exorcist, the alien in E.T or George W Bush. 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128046402148473182005-09-29T19:12:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:13:22.150-07:00

Damn! I told the **** that my right profile was more...er... glamourous! (Or was it my left?) From (L) to ( R), that’s Meisze from Malaysia and moi. 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128046247401305402005-09-29T19:10:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:10:47.403-07:00

The extremely uncouth individual who was our host for the evening. An equally uncouth individual in the background adds to the vulgar garishness of the picture. (Somehow that hand looks very familiar! :-P ) 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128046160232727872005-09-29T19:08:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:09:20.236-07:00

Everybody loves Mohammed, the Crown Prince of Jordan. Not some terribly jealous people who walk around trying to ruin pictures in which they feature, though. 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128045931931455242005-09-29T19:04:00.000-07:002005-09-29T19:05:31.933-07:00

It happened to Marilyn Monroe and Princess Diana! It happen to Tom Cruise and Shah Rukh Khan! Oh, the trials and tribulations of being famous and handsome (and incredibly modest)! 

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1128045788659271312005-09-29T19:02:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:20:05.810-08:00

The Erasmus Mundus class of 2007. The guy with the funky, Dil Chahta Hai-style facial growth is our professor, supervisor, God and Mwbangwa (For those who came in late, that’s Swahili for He-Whom-We-Must-Worship-and-Prostrate-Before-If-We-Don’t-Want -Our-Grades-To-Stink-Worse-Than-Our-Shit). As for me, I’m (mercifully) in the shadows towards the end of the table.And so, That's all, folks!

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1127054038884678222005-09-18T07:32:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:20:46.012-08:00

It has been almost a whole week since I stepped into the land of the Scots. And, if I were to put it mildly and try to understate it a bit, I think I would just use the word fabulous.The past week was what is called orientation by the brass hats, and funtime by most students.Edinburgh is a gloriously multicultural city, and my flat seems to reflect this multiculturatism to a T. I stay with

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1126347932334469632005-09-10T03:19:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:22:13.968-08:00

Blimey, I leave to the land of the limeys in the wee hours of tomorrow. By the evening, I should have moved home and hearth to Edinburgh, Scotland. But because of all the activities concomitant with arriving at a new place, I may not be able to post anything for a few days. Till then, I put forth to the general populace a story I had written a long while back. It's not the kind I usually write,

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1125841688297299422005-09-04T06:46:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:22:44.131-08:00

This bit winds to a logical(?) conclusion the saga that began two episodes ago.It was with a fair amount of trepidation that I rang the bell to her place.Lakshmi opened the door with an almost unnaturally bright smile. Just as I switched on that charming smile of mine that has most women go weak-kneed, she switched hers off abruptly.‘Oh its you… wait here! I have some work inside.’Before I could

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1125480139822515772005-08-31T02:20:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:23:16.019-08:00

This is the second part of the saga, the first part of which ended with the young, innocent (and incredibly stupid) hero allowing himself to be persuaded to make a prank call at 5 in the morning.The phone began to ring. I began to have second thoughts.The little voices in my head whose wise counsel I had so often ignored began to whisper.To digress for a bit; recent medical research indicates

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1124643789250475732005-08-21T10:00:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:23:48.135-08:00

It was a very lazy night – the kind of night during which one does not have much to do. The kind of night that seems to be getting ever more frequent in my life these days. But I digress. The nub of the issue was what happened on one such lazy night.This was a lazy night that came along during a period when lazy nights were rather a scarce commodity. Being diligent students of engineering, we had

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1123858843198194272005-08-12T07:56:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:25:29.864-08:00

This post (or rather, a part of it) is scheduled to appear in the Deccan Chronicle on the 15th of August.It’s that time of the year again, when we push carnations into our buttonholes, pin a flag to our chests and run out into the sunshine and sing the national anthem – while in the bargain getting baked to a crisp listening to a (usually fat), middle-aged man wax eloquent on how we were once a

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1123696281749391642005-08-10T10:39:00.001-07:002007-02-13T18:26:36.609-08:00

This post is a rather insipid continuation of the post I'd begun ten days ago - I write it to draw things out to their logical conclusion. In the meanwhile, I've managed to secure myself entry into the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (no wonder they prefer calling themselves the UK), and will be moving home and hearth to Scotland on the 9th of September. So, for the next

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1123695923011708902005-08-10T10:39:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:26:21.511-08:00

This post is a rather insipid continuation of the post I'd begun ten days ago - I write it to draw things out to a logical conclusion. In the meanwhile, I've managed to secure myself entry into the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (no wonder they prefer calling themselves the UK), and will be moving home and hearth to Scotland on the 9th of September. So, for the next coupla

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1122822010554336912005-07-31T07:37:00.001-07:002007-02-13T18:27:12.410-08:00

It was just the other day that I lay in bed, thinking deep thoughts on the life of sin that I had led thus far. These deep thoughts led me to other not-so-deep thoughts – mainly about the eccentric teachers I had met. And teachers being as they are, I realized that I had seen quite a huge haul of them over the years. Year: 1999 Lunatic under the microscope: Mr. Joludhu, English teacher My

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1122315030990257222005-07-25T11:08:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:27:44.516-08:00

Chandamama Institute of Technology is the kind of institute that would give Mr. Squeers a complex.The pain and sorrow that is felt within this modern day Dotheboy’s hall will, in all likelihood, leave your blood curdled. I was unfortunate enough to visit the institute to attend a technical symposium.It happened a couple of years ago, but the terribly memories fail to die…Therefore, what follows

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1121748256427633442005-07-18T21:19:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:28:33.981-08:00

These anecdotes of real-life dares performed by real people should give you an inkling of the kind of dares you can perform (and the kind of people myself and my comrades are.) Dares to pester the teacher with- For years, I have mulled over how lecturers manage to make topics which make such interesting reading in magazines like Chip and Digit so dull when it comes to putting chalk to

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1120621158972620392005-07-05T20:38:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:29:10.491-08:00

It’s been a long time since I have last put pen to paper, or to be more precise, fingers to keyboard. (Though many of you may argue that since the monitor plays the role of a paper, the metaphor that I have constructed is inaccurate.)That was primarily because of what one could term an acclimatization period that I had to go through. After spending the lion’s share of one’s life in a place, one

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1119658940411841382005-06-24T16:48:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:29:49.103-08:00

It has oft been remarked by the wise in this land that the life of Siddhu Warrier is what one would call fraught with incident. Even I would be the first to agree that a lot more weird things happen around me than it does around most other normal people (not taking into account Rambo, George W Bush and other mentally retarded assholes).But this one takes the cake.I type this today sitting inside

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1119412184064709302005-06-21T20:43:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:30:11.995-08:00

I have never been tagged before.Except when playing hide-and-seek, in which case I was always tagged. ‘Siddhu, you fat piece of shit, you’re it!’ was the phrase that was on everyone’s lips in those days of yore. (It probably had to do with my inability to run fast enough to beat the most overweight tub of lard in my apartment building. But then, that’s a different story altogether.)But no one has

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1119247719560126722005-06-19T23:05:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:30:46.051-08:00

This is an article I had written around three years back, when I was a mere second year, and was still a student of the college I have had so many (not-so-nice) things to say about. This article was published in rediff.com sometime in 2002. I watched them shuffle past. They looked pathetic, fear writ large on their faces, trying to fix their gaze on the sheer nothingness of the wall as they

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1118736120413592762005-06-14T00:54:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:31:15.799-08:00

It was almost a year ago that I was ‘elected’ the Secretary of the Association of Computer Engineers.The secretary has several duties which include:a. Make inane speeches nobody listens to at functions no one attends.b. Bunk classes to make these inane speechesc. Sign letters granting leaved. Organize a symposiumDuties a, b and c pose no difficulty to one of my charm and poise. I managed, during

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1118208244772994092005-06-07T22:20:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:32:23.914-08:00

I speak today of a tried and tested boredom-combat technique which is used to its fullest by militant student unions around the country. It is much less prevalent in Chennai, as opposed to strike patterns observed in certain other states where a strike is more the rule than the exception.We, on the other hand, being members of a highly disciplined student body, do not believe in going on strike

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1117864037076175802005-06-03T22:45:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:32:57.469-08:00

The move to dismember me was met with firm approval from most ends of the class. Some characters - the kind who perform buckwing dances at Taliban executions - actively cheered Ramesh on. It was then that my guardian angel, in the form of a stripling from the sixth standard, walked into the class.The stripling walked towards my assassin. In a meek voice did he speak –‘Anna, excuse me, I’m really

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1117617957369165392005-06-01T02:14:00.000-07:002007-02-13T18:33:21.175-08:00

It was on a beautiful evening – the kind of evening when one doesn’t need any alcohol to see things through rose tinted glasses – that it all began.It was a happy, contented self that read the Harold Robbins, tucked neatly beneath the covers of my Physics textbook. I was just getting to the interesting part of the book, where the intrepid explorer discovers the hidden location of the G-spot when

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1116609985706928082005-05-20T10:22:00.000-07:002005-05-20T10:27:56.043-07:00

I will be out of station for the next ten days, and will be away from blogsville. :-(. But I will be driving along South India's expansive highways. :-D. Anyway, till then, adios. Hope this post reads good - I wrote this as well a while back. (Btw, I will try to sneak in a post or two from Trivandrum, where I shall be ;-)) Becoming a classroom cartoonist is one of the best ways, according to

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1116310694696507462005-05-16T21:43:00.000-07:002005-05-16T23:35:57.896-07:00

The sound of a female voice to Bharat was like sex to a nympho. He just couldn’t have enough of it. Every second hour, he’d message asking me if he could hear my sweet, mellifluous voice again.The voyeur in me had a field day for the next week or so. Bharat had grown bolder with every passing day. Life, as far as Bharat was concerned, was exactly like the erotic stories he’d devoured from the age

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1116235367190678782005-05-16T02:21:00.000-07:002005-05-16T23:46:54.236-07:00

Since the 2nd of May, I’ve been examinationless, and blissfully so. Unfortunately, the bliss that had settled over me was unsettled somewhat because I was struck down by a severe case of writer’s block (yet again!). It was then that I stumbled upon http://ketaki666.blogspot.com/2005/04/stalk-statement.html. This reminded me of the yarn ofThe Horny Mallu and the indecent proposal – Part IIt was as

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1115974263812565182005-05-13T01:44:00.000-07:002005-05-13T02:02:51.940-07:00

From childhood on, I’ve been something of a quitter.It all started when at the age of five I decided I wanted to learn to swim. I saw myself swimming away to Olympic glory, circumnavigating the world with my bare hands and having as many pretty, adoring female fans as Ian Thorpe. My poor, unsuspecting uncle took me all the way to a swimming pool and told me to go take a shower and put my trunks

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1115811235903335602005-05-11T04:27:00.000-07:002005-05-11T04:33:55.916-07:00

At 12:30, our professor decided that we had learnt enough about the life cycle and mating season of the PNP transistor and left the classroom. The chap arose from his seat, still fiddling continuously with his Reliance. As he walked towards the canteen, I regaled him with cheerful prattle about R World. Not because I found R World or its applications particularly interesting, but because that

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1115628916975407282005-05-09T01:52:00.000-07:002005-05-09T02:25:06.936-07:00

Sending prank SMSes from others’ cells (and getting caught doing so) is the best way to do unto death whatever little social life you may presently have.But then, what’s life without a little risk? And if you, like yours truly, will never win a congeniality contest, the only risks that you take by sending prank SMSes is that of being physically assaulted. Note: The receiver HAS to be a she –

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1114780995401094482005-04-29T06:12:00.000-07:002005-04-29T06:24:59.036-07:00

I continue today on what I had begun a few days ago– assisting young love on its way (while at the same time taking generous leaps along the road to perdition myself). To recap, yesterday we had left a love struck swain who was game to follow his true love to the ends of the earth (provided somebody else paid the air fare) waiting with bated breath for the reply to a letter ghost written (

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9801936.post-1114250068535249872005-04-23T02:46:00.000-07:002005-04-23T03:00:15.083-07:00

I'd written this post a couple of years ago, but thanks to exams, I don't have time to write anything new. So something's better than nothing, I guess. If you have copious quantities of water in your brain (like most poets who've written reams on love and romance), go fall in love. If you're just bored, well.... just play cupid!Playing cupid is a highly entertaining and highly risky endeavour as

Siddhuhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15766092746877344160noreply@blogger.com0