<?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-6208025154709322216</id><updated>2012-02-16T02:27:15.065-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thoughts</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://random-thoughts-sb.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6208025154709322216/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://random-thoughts-sb.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>SB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05859978725737442386</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>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6208025154709322216.post-4074418623290312007</id><published>2008-08-29T03:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T02:17:30.059-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Moderately Conservative Or Conservatively Moderate</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Lets face it, most of us, like me, are neither here nor there. More specifically as Indians struck in the middle of a social and economic revolution, we are standing at one of the biggest crossroads in "&lt;strong&gt; our &lt;/strong&gt;" modern times. The problem with being born during these changing times of transformation are many. The one that manifests itself most severely is that you constantly strive to align your ethos with the moving times and still somehow hope to preserve your formative values. In the process not only the initial values are getting eroded, but more seriously, you tend to end up in a situation where your identity is blurred by what you are (were) and what you thought you should be. I know there is a lot of overlap between being assimilative, i.e. a liberal by my line of thought and being accomodative, i.e. moderately conservative. Both are equally justifiable in thier own right, depending upon which side of the fence you are.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Most of us are never sure really where to draw the line. While growing up, as you realize that there is a huge gap between what was spoon fed to you against what you actaully feel should have been; I am sure most of us would have thought at some point in life if I really am what I should be (can be ?). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I personally feel thats my basic problem. I mean is it enough to live a life of preset roles, responsibilities, expectations. A recipie of scripts you are supposed to enact through the theatre they call life. And if it so, how many ? Some of us may well go the safer path, tried and tested (and expected ...) but then is it all about life? I feel life has to be more than a preset sequence of instructions, with definite input and deterministic output. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This can get increasingly painfull as you realise that most of the people (mostly all) around you, whom you thought of as being understanding turn otherwise. If that happens with your role models, then you are in for a shock. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;To say the least here, when you feel streched out between life from the inside and outside, there can just be one call that can be followed - your own inner voice.... However tough the journey be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6208025154709322216-4074418623290312007?l=random-thoughts-sb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://random-thoughts-sb.blogspot.com/feeds/4074418623290312007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6208025154709322216&amp;postID=4074418623290312007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6208025154709322216/posts/default/4074418623290312007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6208025154709322216/posts/default/4074418623290312007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://random-thoughts-sb.blogspot.com/2008/08/moderately-conservative-or.html' title='Moderately Conservative Or Conservatively Moderate'/><author><name>SB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05859978725737442386</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-6208025154709322216.post-5855156913048293947</id><published>2008-08-26T04:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T05:24:31.004-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The irony that they call India...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Standing at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Andheri&lt;/span&gt; station last weekend, waiting for the next local to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Malad&lt;/span&gt; a strange thought came to my mind. I saw a guy fully immersed in his job, so immersed that it seemed he was destined to do it forever, till his last breath. His &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;skillful&lt;/span&gt; hands were so swift and moved so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;elegantly&lt;/span&gt;, that it seemed more like a musicians finger on her favourite instrument. Though he was doing one of the most "menial" jobs yet he was too good at it. For the unimaginative his profession was polishing the shoes of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sahebs&lt;/span&gt;, who stood there one foot on his small angled stand with such pride, as if they ruled his destiny and enjoying the "superior" status in this cramped society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Immediately&lt;/span&gt; my thoughts swayed to that Feb after noon (in 2006) at Atlanta airport, when I was transported as an offshore associate, by a reputed multi national to be part of some "very" important business meetings (read slogging) to our client site. Among all the hustle and bustle out there in the waiting lounge, it was too tough to ignore this glass house kinda of shop. Initially I thought of it as some kind of a interior furnishing firm. It took me some time to realise that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;in fact&lt;/span&gt; it was a shoe polishing centre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The parallels are quite interesting (contrasting ? ) as well. Whereas our so very pedestrian &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;polishwala&lt;/span&gt; provides the service with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;characteristic&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;demurity&lt;/span&gt;, the service guy at the polish stop(as it is called in the commercial Sam Land) has the plastic smile, somehow trying to make you feel well &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;served&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Here its a cacophony of blasting music and railway "noise" (read every sound imaginable on earth), there a slow and soothing music (as a value added service). The most striking contrast seems to be that where as our ever humble guy is doing is by compulsion, the proud owner of the posh outlet is doing it by choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All things said and done there is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;at least&lt;/span&gt; some similarity in the end result - a shining n smiling boot &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; looking at you with all its sheen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found it quite strange to reconcile myself looking down at this guy doing his thing, may be by compulsion, destiny, even dynasty; in my very "own" (is it that close anyways? ) &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Mumbai&lt;/span&gt; and think of that shoe care centre doing technically speaking the same job with such pomp and esteem. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6208025154709322216-5855156913048293947?l=random-thoughts-sb.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://random-thoughts-sb.blogspot.com/feeds/5855156913048293947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6208025154709322216&amp;postID=5855156913048293947' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6208025154709322216/posts/default/5855156913048293947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6208025154709322216/posts/default/5855156913048293947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://random-thoughts-sb.blogspot.com/2008/08/irony-that-they-call-india.html' title='The irony that they call India...'/><author><name>SB</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05859978725737442386</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>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
