<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814</id><updated>2011-07-30T17:40:59.648-07:00</updated><category term='recesses of the mind'/><category term='ITWTG'/><category term='delhi'/><category term='Real Reel Life'/><category term='Debatable Debacle'/><category term='About Life'/><category term='Janta General'/><title type='text'>Human Psychology - A Layman's Perspective</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814.post-383544254240039458</id><published>2009-08-15T00:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T01:21:59.005-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recesses of the mind'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Debatable Debacle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Janta General'/><title type='text'>Happy Independence Day... the tryst to be independent continues</title><content type='html'>Independence day....&lt;br /&gt;Today's the day when 62 years ago we achieved independence from the British Rule. &lt;br /&gt;I'm wondering something fancy and patriotic to write about today. But somehow it wouldn't do justice to this day.&lt;br /&gt;Cynic that I am, I sit here and wonder exactly how significant is this day to us Indians. We're a weird race. We blow out of proportion silly little things like a five year old falling in the ditch and completely ignore something as significant as our Independence Day. It has the least number of SMS's passed around, unenthusiastic greetings and celebrations, and the regular monotony of a holiday. I'm sure there ARE quite a number of people out there doing a lot more than that, but since it doesn't include me, I feel pretty useless and left out.&lt;br /&gt;Of course, on a more dismal note, I'll also point out all the things that we're still not free from. We still labor under the oppression of diseases, pollution, malnutrition, poverty, terrorism, over exposure and dependence on technology, the oppression of MONEY, of peer pressure, of depleting and degrading natural resources, morals, cultural values.... blah blah blah. The question is - how much of it bothers us; and even more importantly, are we willing to do something about it?&lt;br /&gt;Our forefathers, so to say liberated us from foreign rule so that we could make our own choices, and the only ones really celebrating this day, or at least making a pretense of doing so our not-so-dear politicians who probably are the only ones fully exercising this right of CHOICE. &lt;br /&gt;An average Indian is still stuck in making the same stereotypical choices, (I wonder if they can be termed choices at all, since they're so spoon-fed) making ends meet. Even those who do better than that classify living life as a few annual outings taken with the family where they visit stereotypical places, spending on stereotypical luxuries, each vying to outdo his neighbor or relative or brother or friend or enemy. &lt;br /&gt;Our scriptures themselves say that those who do not venture out to learn new cultures, new languages and new ways are no better than animals. So what do we do? How do we free ourselves and the rest of the Indians from their mundane stereotypical lives? The ones that WANT to Free of course. How do we emphasize on this day that we are free, we are free, independent, that we define ourselves, that our identities are neither chained in our culture, nor in the western culture, that we are who we are and we are proud of who we are, that we make choices, independent choices, not those dictated by family or society or situations?&lt;br /&gt;With freedom of course, come responsibilities. And it is shouldering these responsibilities that emphasizes that we are a free race. Each of us has different responsibs and some common... ahem... noble ones that we all need to shoulder. Yes, I know it's easy to be all philosophical but it's not all that difficult to take a few small steps. Like switching off the lights in your house when you don't need them, or not taking unnecessary long drives and saving oil, or trying to give your parents little things, moments that they sacrificed to raise you, or not littering the roads, or not losing patience when someone bangs into you by mistake on the road, or making women feel more secure EVERYWHERE.... There are many things we can do, and every time we do any one of them, it's like celebrating our independence, whatever day it might be.&lt;br /&gt;Theres no need to be all puffed up and make impractical resolutions with fire in your eyes and patriotic fervor in your heart or anything fancy like that, just a determination to do better, be better every moment of life. That would probably be more than being independent citizens of our wonderful country, it'd be like being independent of all our weaknesses. Sound like a good thing to be, no?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6659922369787656814-383544254240039458?l=psykopsyke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/383544254240039458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6659922369787656814&amp;postID=383544254240039458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/383544254240039458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/383544254240039458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/2009/08/happy-independence-day-tryst-to-be.html' title='Happy Independence Day... the tryst to be independent continues'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814.post-7256400811497340012</id><published>2009-04-25T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:28:08.246-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Debatable Debacle'/><title type='text'>Wizard Of Wisdom</title><content type='html'>Theres a book called 'The Secret'. It's been popular worldwide, it has sold millions of CD's of the movie 'The secret' just as well.&lt;br /&gt;Whats wonderful about this book??? It encourages you to believe in your dreams. It ensures you that wanting things is not bad, and best of all, that if you want something bad enough, the entire universe will aid you in getting it.&lt;br /&gt;I saw the movie. I was initially very inspired by it, though I had a slight feeling of 'unreal' nagging me somewhere. I discussed it with someone I knew and was thoroughly ridiculed for liking something like that. Recently a good friend told me she was reading the book and believed i needed to employ the Secret in my life and try to change it positively. &lt;br /&gt;I recently saw the movie 'Guru'. It is based upon a famous Indian industrialist who broke, bended, moulded and recreated all rules of trade for his company to grow, a man who introduced the share market to India, and spearheaded the Indian middle class towards a richer, more productive future. He was Mr. Dhirubhai Ambani. As the movie portrays, he was dragged up against the media, the judiciary and the masses of India on charges of fraud. He listens to all accusations and finally speaks thus in his favour. He says he had come to Mumbai to do business, and he tried going to right way. But he found all doors closed. And ultimately he had no choice but to bang them, sneak inside them through hook or crook or even break them down for his company to grow. He cited the entire country as a partner in his growth, he's met by many of his shareholders who earned from his company and rose out of drudgery. He's appreciated by everyone, including his critics.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for getting dragged into the spirit of the movie. What am i trying to say here?? That when you truly want something, when you CONVINCINGLY want something, and you go for it, you get it. It's probably the world's most wonderful secret, or maybe the simplest and the most obvious truth. Life's like a test, and God or nature or whatever superpower is sitting up there tests you on just one thing when it comes to giving you what you want, how badly you want it, how CONVINCINGLY do you want it? And to what extents will you go to get it. Try it on the smallest things, or the biggest, it will always work out. Decide, not because you want to try this out, but because you want to, that you will do a particular thing today. And just move on towards it. It will be done and over before you know it.&lt;br /&gt;'Faith, faith faith in ourselves, faith faith in god, that is the way to success' - &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Swami Vivekananda&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6659922369787656814-7256400811497340012?l=psykopsyke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/7256400811497340012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6659922369787656814&amp;postID=7256400811497340012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/7256400811497340012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/7256400811497340012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/2009/04/wizard-of-wisdom.html' title='Wizard Of Wisdom'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814.post-7516565130298705635</id><published>2009-03-11T19:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T19:33:03.443-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='delhi'/><title type='text'>Delhi - 7</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhzhQl1PkI/AAAAAAAAADk/ypqMlq5iZ6s/s1600-h/12Mar+(15).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhzhQl1PkI/AAAAAAAAADk/ypqMlq5iZ6s/s400/12Mar+(15).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312122775710023234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhzF_6yahI/AAAAAAAAADc/bkKDh5Pm1wc/s1600-h/12Mar+(14).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhzF_6yahI/AAAAAAAAADc/bkKDh5Pm1wc/s400/12Mar+(14).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312122307378047506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/Sbhy1aDDmOI/AAAAAAAAADU/-VgEYnR8LoU/s1600-h/12Mar+(13).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/Sbhy1aDDmOI/AAAAAAAAADU/-VgEYnR8LoU/s400/12Mar+(13).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312122022334273762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhylOUZ1QI/AAAAAAAAADM/6N5XlrD6rVQ/s1600-h/12Mar+(12).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhylOUZ1QI/AAAAAAAAADM/6N5XlrD6rVQ/s400/12Mar+(12).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312121744307901698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhyZ-OolEI/AAAAAAAAADE/a9M8LCg4-cM/s1600-h/12Mar+(11).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhyZ-OolEI/AAAAAAAAADE/a9M8LCg4-cM/s400/12Mar+(11).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312121551010174018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhyLy0X4uI/AAAAAAAAAC8/nTY0ubo3lqk/s1600-h/12Mar+(10).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhyLy0X4uI/AAAAAAAAAC8/nTY0ubo3lqk/s400/12Mar+(10).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312121307429069538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/Sbhx5JENQOI/AAAAAAAAAC0/47tm03Jgx4Y/s1600-h/12Mar+(9).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/Sbhx5JENQOI/AAAAAAAAAC0/47tm03Jgx4Y/s400/12Mar+(9).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312120986983547106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhxnCNH4jI/AAAAAAAAACs/8weh7tlDP-E/s1600-h/12Mar+(8).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhxnCNH4jI/AAAAAAAAACs/8weh7tlDP-E/s400/12Mar+(8).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312120675904250418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhxRybzZlI/AAAAAAAAACk/8IACJ2e1XW0/s1600-h/12Mar+(7).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhxRybzZlI/AAAAAAAAACk/8IACJ2e1XW0/s400/12Mar+(7).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312120310893602386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/Sbhw99j_xPI/AAAAAAAAACc/44fbJ3DIzRs/s1600-h/12Mar+(6).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/Sbhw99j_xPI/AAAAAAAAACc/44fbJ3DIzRs/s400/12Mar+(6).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312119970283373810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhwyznX98I/AAAAAAAAACU/AZqffjtomms/s1600-h/12Mar+(5).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhwyznX98I/AAAAAAAAACU/AZqffjtomms/s400/12Mar+(5).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312119778634627010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhwkUcRfQI/AAAAAAAAACM/gNsSFfLuDEw/s1600-h/12Mar+(4).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhwkUcRfQI/AAAAAAAAACM/gNsSFfLuDEw/s400/12Mar+(4).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312119529748397314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhwO8j8L9I/AAAAAAAAACE/G3dxDb0uJTk/s1600-h/12Mar+(3).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhwO8j8L9I/AAAAAAAAACE/G3dxDb0uJTk/s400/12Mar+(3).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312119162560851922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/Sbhv_lnlKCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/L4NDdoyJ9pI/s1600-h/12Mar+(2).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/Sbhv_lnlKCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/L4NDdoyJ9pI/s400/12Mar+(2).JPG" border="0" &lt;br /&gt;Delhi seems to be popular nowadays amongst filmmakers, investors, BPO's...&lt;br /&gt;So, I thought I might indulge in too.&lt;br /&gt;And thus, after DElhi 6, I bring you Delhi 7.&lt;br /&gt;It's a sun kissed park in Delhi thats very famous amongst the residents around. People flock it for morning walks, weddings, picnics, games or just to get a bit of nature like I do.&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to Roshanara Bagh.&lt;br /&gt;alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312118898704066594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhvIomcs4I/AAAAAAAAAB0/CS8AAdHw8MY/s1600-h/12Mar+(1).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhvIomcs4I/AAAAAAAAAB0/CS8AAdHw8MY/s400/12Mar+(1).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312117954611819394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6659922369787656814-7516565130298705635?l=psykopsyke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/7516565130298705635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6659922369787656814&amp;postID=7516565130298705635' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/7516565130298705635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/7516565130298705635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/2009/03/delhi-7.html' title='Delhi - 7'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SbhzhQl1PkI/AAAAAAAAADk/ypqMlq5iZ6s/s72-c/12Mar+(15).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814.post-4472168398791093754</id><published>2009-01-14T12:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T12:26:02.779-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ITWTG'/><title type='text'>Yeh Zindagi</title><content type='html'>Yeh Zindagi&lt;br /&gt;Kaisi hai yeh zindagi&lt;br /&gt;Dil tootne par roti hai&lt;br /&gt;Phir kisi aur ki love story  dekh ke muskurati hai zindagi&lt;br /&gt;Aansuo se ladti hai&lt;br /&gt;Taqleefon ke sammne sar uthaati hai&lt;br /&gt;Lad lad ke jeet ki khushi manati hai zindagi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jalti hai, jalatii hai&lt;br /&gt;Ek dusre ke sahare aage badhti jaati hai&lt;br /&gt;Kabhi kaandha de, to kabhi sahara lekar jeeti hai zindagi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baccho ki khushi mein&lt;br /&gt;Buzurgo ki aankho mein&lt;br /&gt;Jawaan dilon ke sapno me &lt;br /&gt;Chalakti hai, jhalakti hai zindagi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Khud ko manati, khud ko satati, &lt;br /&gt;Kabhi dhokha dekar, toh kabhi jaan lekar&lt;br /&gt;Kabhi khudgarz aur kabhi kadvi&lt;br /&gt;Aur Kabhi shahidon ka balidaan leti&lt;br /&gt;Jeene ki khatir ladti hai yeh zindagi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girti, ladhkhadaati, par Kabhi na rukti&lt;br /&gt;Hardam jo chalti, usika naam zindagi.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6659922369787656814-4472168398791093754?l=psykopsyke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/4472168398791093754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6659922369787656814&amp;postID=4472168398791093754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/4472168398791093754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/4472168398791093754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/2009/01/yeh-zindagi.html' title='Yeh Zindagi'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814.post-4276085727526096231</id><published>2008-12-30T01:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T02:24:15.525-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Life'/><title type='text'>Fickle as the sands of Mahabalipuram</title><content type='html'>Sand is fickle, it does not stay in your grip, it hides itself in nooks and crannies and is difficult to get rid of, nor does it grow anything, it does not nurture life. It belongs neither to the beach, nor to the ocean, and it's dead, raw and scratchy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were leaving Mahabalipuram, a small tourist place with beautiful beaches, lots of foreigners, temples and possibly lots of dope. My sister couldn't find her watch so we decided to go back to beach where we'd bathed earlier and see if we could find  it. It was a slim chance, but like responsible good kids, we decided to drag our legs all the way across in the hot sun. We neared the beach where I asked my sister to go ahead alone while I'd wait for her on the edge of the resort. The sea was a deep twinkling blue in contrast with the bright yellow sand that burnt hot under the tropical sun. Oceans, infact all forms of water bodies are my weakness, and I found myself being pulled to the beach behind my sister who was about to turn back after having unsuccessfully looked around for her watch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"H, lets take one last look at the water", I said, as I neared her. The ocean seemed to be calling us, splashing wave after wave onto the shore. &lt;br /&gt;"But they'll be waiting for us", my sis replied.&lt;br /&gt;"C'mon, we come this far, another few minutes wont hurt", I chided.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd almost been dragged away twice  that morning as we'd bathed, my boasts about water never killing me had dimmed a bit and I'd seen it's power for the first time, felt it rather, as it sucked us through and threw us back as it played around the coast. Sis consented and as we went towards the waves again, a woman came calling in Tamil, Now I can understand Tamil well, but I don't even recollect the syllables. My sister worked it out that she was calling out to us to get our hands read. &lt;br /&gt;Astrology is a temptation to me. It's not like i don't believe in it, but I don't believe in practicing or using it. Future should be left as it is, in the future. I see it as a sign of weakness, the need to consult your stars while making decisions, nor do I see the point, whether you know about it or not, what will happen will happen, and only the destined will happen. Anyway, enough dragging, the irony of all my drag is that impulse made me call that woman. I asked my sister to ask her her in Tamil what she'd charge to read my hand. She didn't reply but asked me to sit down. And thus started her rattle about me...&lt;br /&gt;"You're a spendthrift", she said (as my sis translated every line). "You look happy out side but you're not satisfied inside, but you have a vision, and that will take you far.&lt;br /&gt;Your body troubles you, it is sick. You think something but something entirely different happens instead," she continued, "if you have the support of someone elder, you will prosper," she kept running a metal stick on my palm. She assured me a long life. "You don't bow in front of God physically, but you believe from within, you don't mingle with relatives a lot..," She also said that the woman I marry will be the goddess of wealth, that I'd go abroad (a practised line that almost every youngster likes to hear I guess). She kept repeating something about a vision, but I guess she meant my perception, which needed a change for my fortunes to turn around. When she started repeating things we decided to pay her and move on. I handed her a Rs. 50 note, and she rattled off again in Tamil that escaped even my sister's understanding.&lt;br /&gt;Then she told my sister she wanted to do something to permanently rid me of all my health and 'vision' related problems... we repeatedly refused to her and ultimately my sis asked her what she'd take for it, and she said, no I don't want anything in return. She said she would perform something on a little twig that I'd have to throw into the ocean after spitting on it (I misunderstood there and spit on the ocean instead) When I came back we started to move on when she said I was supposed to pay her another 350/- for that little hocus pocus she did with the twig, we paid her another 150/- and moved on, her yells following her in indecipherable Tamil.&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;It's the kind of thing people lean on when they either don't want to make efforts or have little faith in themselves. I have made my own choices in life, and if they're a bit dull, they're still mine, but the whiner in me always pulls a dismal face when I'm asked how I am. This was another silly desperate attempt on his part to hopefully turn his life around into something that can be identified as his own... &lt;br /&gt;Most of the lines the woman said were practised dialogues made o people who need other people to tell them what they are, how wonderful or troubled they are, a tinge of sympathy, a pint of admiration and wonderful useless promises that are never defined into anything specific but have that usual note of 'everything will be alright'.&lt;br /&gt;I feel amused and slightly ashamed of my temporary slip towards this side of whiney losers. I guess it happens to everyone once in a while...&lt;br /&gt;When I looked back, the sky was still a beautiful twinkly blue, the sky bright, the sand bright yellow, as if reinforcing in me my belief, whats to happen will happen, there are no two things about it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6659922369787656814-4276085727526096231?l=psykopsyke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/4276085727526096231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6659922369787656814&amp;postID=4276085727526096231' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/4276085727526096231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/4276085727526096231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/2008/12/fickle-as-sands-of-mahabalipuram.html' title='Fickle as the sands of Mahabalipuram'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814.post-7627104884076603202</id><published>2008-11-07T09:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T09:57:22.700-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Moving on... and Looking Back</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SRSBdtoVGyI/AAAAAAAAABU/uHip9dOsowQ/s1600-h/7Nov.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SRSBdtoVGyI/AAAAAAAAABU/uHip9dOsowQ/s400/7Nov.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265976211767892770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stuck all my old posters in my new room just before Deewali in a desperate attempt to make my room look like that of my 18 year old self. But somehow, they no longer fit the character of the room. I look at them and realize that the kid who had a million expectations and dreams in his eyes is no longer here.&lt;br /&gt;My old room was a small 10 by 12 with room for hardly anything. It was my first room and I was madly in love with it. It had a single cupboard, a single diwan and a big table. And lots of mess, unholy, lovely mess. And after fitting them all in the room, there was room left only to walk around.&lt;br /&gt;My new room is a huge 14 by 16 with three cupboards, a huge mirror (I hate mirrors), and an attached bathroom. It feels like the room of a married couple. My lovely posters look alien in it, so does the kid who once stood out of his room at four in the morning after having finished reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of fire, slightly shivering in the drizzle and marveling at the skills of J K Rowling. the kid who idolized Snape, believed in magic and had a crush on Hermione....&lt;br /&gt;I was fiercely protective of my old room. I hated having to give it to anyone. And now, I don't really care as long as people keep their hands off my stuff. I hate having a mirror in the room, not that I don't like looking at myself, but just that it doesn't fit my character.&lt;br /&gt;I hate having a double bed to sleep on, drab walls that seem to be politely tolerating my wonderful posters... Most of all I hate the neatness that seems to emphasize on how much I've grown up, how much I've HAD to grow up.&lt;br /&gt;When I was kid, I used to rally as the leader of all the kids (which comprised of my little cousins who thought the world of me). I believed that kids were wonderful, I'd never contemplated growing up myself. And now that I have, I look back fondly at all that I've had, trying to hold on to the feeling, trying to retain the faith, the confidence, the hope.... and the dreams. But the new me has disassociated himself from his child-self. Maybe its important, maybe someday, after a long time, I will read this post and miss my almost 25 year old self...&lt;br /&gt;Growing up is a part of life. We move on from an age, and all its bearings, sometimes glad to have moved on, sometimes pensive at what's been left behind. But one has to learn to grow up too... learn to do justice to every age, so that when we ultimately move on, we have fond memories of ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SRSAfoaxdXI/AAAAAAAAABE/94xvg6wqT3c/s1600-h/19Oct+060.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SRSAfoaxdXI/AAAAAAAAABE/94xvg6wqT3c/s400/19Oct+060.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265975145216963954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6659922369787656814-7627104884076603202?l=psykopsyke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/7627104884076603202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6659922369787656814&amp;postID=7627104884076603202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/7627104884076603202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/7627104884076603202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-stuck-all-my-old-posters-in-my-new.html' title='Moving on... and Looking Back'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jDLKP1KLSQQ/SRSBdtoVGyI/AAAAAAAAABU/uHip9dOsowQ/s72-c/7Nov.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814.post-7905763666279493243</id><published>2008-10-21T16:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T16:48:36.148-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recesses of the mind'/><title type='text'>when sleep is elusive...</title><content type='html'>It’s not always possible to substitute thoughts with God’s name.&lt;br /&gt;Doing good work is not always enough consolation for what you get back in return.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes faith is not enough to overcome fear.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, no matter how disciplined, the mind wants more, the body needs more.&lt;br /&gt;It’s difficult, in real life, to always believe that family is more important than money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These, of course, are all signs of a weaker mind and a weaker body. But then, it’s not possible to be strong every minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then again, there's no alternative to trying to be strong all the time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6659922369787656814-7905763666279493243?l=psykopsyke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/7905763666279493243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6659922369787656814&amp;postID=7905763666279493243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/7905763666279493243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/7905763666279493243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/2008/10/when-sleep-is-elusive.html' title='when sleep is elusive...'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814.post-4681485859580973218</id><published>2008-10-18T00:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T01:09:52.065-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Janta General'/><title type='text'>Dont curse politics, make an effort to make a difference</title><content type='html'>A(on the phone) : Hey B! Happy Birthday!&lt;br /&gt;B: Thanx A&lt;br /&gt;A: so how old are you today?&lt;br /&gt;B: 17&lt;br /&gt;A: Oh... so not reached your voting age yet eh?&lt;br /&gt;B: No A&lt;br /&gt;A: *laughs* I reached my voting age about 10 years ago, but I've never voted even once till now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was a conversation I overheard between two Indians. Not making specific judgements, but the Indian youth does not give enough importance to thri right to democracy. Most young people dont vote because they think its a cumbersome process, some say it won't make a difference anyway, some are undecided on their politial opinion.&lt;br /&gt;Voting is very important. If you think it is, it means you feel responsible towards your society and your country and that you want to make a difference.&lt;br /&gt;Registration for voting is now easy. Sites like Tata's Jaago re (&lt;a href="http://www.jaagore.com/"&gt;www.jaagore.com&lt;/a&gt;) have taken up the initiative to encourage youth to vote. Each one of us can make a difference, and all of us should.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6659922369787656814-4681485859580973218?l=psykopsyke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/4681485859580973218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6659922369787656814&amp;postID=4681485859580973218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/4681485859580973218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/4681485859580973218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/2008/10/dont-curse-politics-make-effort-to-make.html' title='Dont curse politics, make an effort to make a difference'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814.post-1954079435221649690</id><published>2008-10-12T15:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T15:27:43.697-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Real Reel Life'/><title type='text'>'Mumbai Meri Jaan'</title><content type='html'>I watched Mumbai Meri Jaan. Its a movie that has tried to capture a section of human psychology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An idealist corporate, an over ambitious reporter, reborn from her experience to see her own ashes, as she describes it, a confused communal, a frustrated cop, a desperate poor coffee wala and a realist make up the characters that the movie is centered around. The movie is crafted around their experiences with the Mumbai bomb blasts and life in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every actor is perfectly defined, beautifully simple. Everyone has done such a great job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MMJ shows that human beings are all, ultimately, victims, ironically of each other and their own selves. Describing the movie here would be doing it an injustice, I'd suggest you to watch it and then come back to the post to know what I'm trying to say. It's one of those honest attempts towards making a positive public opinion. I dont know if that was the aim of movie makers, but its definitely achieved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of all the characters, Tukaram Patil, played by the unparalleled Paresh Rawal, is the most sensible of all. He simplifies the philosophy of life into watching a movie, but never acting in it. However, he too, towards the end, speculates his life, his rights and wrongs, questions his realism and ultimately displays a desire to have done more, to do more, better, bigger.... Such are humans, always twisted amongst their own justifications.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Such movies make me forget real life. I chant to myself, its just a movie, just a movie, not real life. It's foolish to let such things move me. And yet, a quiet voice inside me says, its not that far from real life either. In fact, real life, is a lot more bizarre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The movie ends, and yet does not end, symbolising how life moves on, how things that seem to come to an end are actually just transforming into something else. It is beautiful, it's sensible and it's real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever happens, whatever the drama, I will try to remember what Paresh Rawal says,&lt;br /&gt;"Khali picture dekhne ka, acting nahi karne ka re'&lt;br /&gt;(just watch the movie, no point acting in it.*&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;reacting to it*&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6659922369787656814-1954079435221649690?l=psykopsyke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/1954079435221649690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6659922369787656814&amp;postID=1954079435221649690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/1954079435221649690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/1954079435221649690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/2008/10/mumbai-meri-jaan.html' title='&apos;Mumbai Meri Jaan&apos;'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814.post-7979745332787349737</id><published>2008-10-10T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T22:46:18.574-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='About Life'/><title type='text'>My new 9 to 5</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I keep signing into the blog, wanting to update it, but nothing happens worth updating here.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Life changes every short while... and most major changes slip in gradually.It takes a while before you realize that your life has turned a corner, shifted gears. I've been trying to change y routine. For someone as lazy as I am, taking responsibilty starts with a shock, the shock of finding how much there is to be done when you start doing it. 24 hours seem inappropriate and sleep feels like a scarcely available luxury. I've suddenly started appreciating getting up early, racing to the bathroom before anyone else, wondering where I lost time even if I woke up early, and skipping breakfast to make it in time to the office. It feels good, worthwhile, atleast it keeps my mind from wondering into things that are ... well... not worth thinking.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sometimes I wonder if people take time to appreciate how precious a normal, peaceful, routine life is.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6659922369787656814-7979745332787349737?l=psykopsyke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/7979745332787349737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6659922369787656814&amp;postID=7979745332787349737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/7979745332787349737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/7979745332787349737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-new-9-to-5.html' title='My new 9 to 5'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814.post-6505560571915009365</id><published>2008-09-25T10:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T11:19:19.209-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Debatable Debacle'/><title type='text'>What The Fuck man, I am forced to think!</title><content type='html'>In this life, you have the choice of either doing the right thing or believing that what you're doing is right. And trust me neither of them is easy.&lt;br /&gt;Doing the 'right' thing involves first &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;defining&lt;/span&gt; what is right. The 'ideal' definitions of right are not always applicable, and yet, asserting that something is right on that excuse doesn't always work either. People think it's thrilling to do something wrong, something out of the way, something the majority of the people believe as wrong. However, these very people don't have the courage, or the maturity to face the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thrills&lt;/span&gt; of the repercussions.&lt;br /&gt;Society has guidelines on right and wrong. The people of this society have rigid and sometimes hypocrite rules and judgments based on these guidelines. Some people, some very few people have the insight through which they are able to validate these norms of society on the whole. the rest of us either hide behind these guidelines, or rashly believe in doing what we wish, especially what we're &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not supposed&lt;/span&gt; to do in the name of independence.&lt;br /&gt;And of course, some others, lukkhas like me, like to write blogs about it.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going into specifics here because I'm not sure of my definitions of right and wrong, or perhaps just lack the courage to make a stand on them. But then again, choosing not to make a stand is also taking a stand isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;Here's to a peaceful uncomplicated life, the possibility of which is scarce.&lt;br /&gt;As for believing what you do is right, try as I think, I cant imagine what that could be like anymore. It sounds like a question of confidence and sometimes arrogance... But it's just something I dont trust anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6659922369787656814-6505560571915009365?l=psykopsyke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/6505560571915009365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6659922369787656814&amp;postID=6505560571915009365' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/6505560571915009365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/6505560571915009365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/2008/09/wtf-man-i-am-forced-to-think.html' title='What The Fuck man, I am forced to think!'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6659922369787656814.post-6479131629593793294</id><published>2008-09-21T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T22:55:03.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back from the dead</title><content type='html'>It can be done for blogs, alas, it cannot be done to people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6659922369787656814-6479131629593793294?l=psykopsyke.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/feeds/6479131629593793294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6659922369787656814&amp;postID=6479131629593793294' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/6479131629593793294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6659922369787656814/posts/default/6479131629593793294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psykopsyke.blogspot.com/2008/09/back-from-dead.html' title='Back from the dead'/><author><name>The Rat</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03343825442433048777</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
