Sunday, January 22, 2006

Maneesh getting the sample

Maneesh was our official bucket thrower. He took his pride at his flawless technique of throwing the bucket into the muddy waters over all the african or whatever paayal and dragging the sometimes sinking waters in. The only problem with Maneesh though was that he wanted his photo taken every 15 minutes, which annoyed the hell out of the girls. I personally found Chala's irritation with him and Santhi's incessant sniggering funny as hell.

A little fun later..

This is after the sample collection actually. We went to the beach, and could not resist a quick dip in the waters. Since we did not have any change of clothes we were forced to dry ourselves out on the beach in the sun. Everyone came out tanned as hell. We tried our best with two umbrellas.


Bottling the sample..

We had a hard time at first getting the water into the bottle which we solved by buying a small funnel. We had to keep out water bubbles, which we tried to do, but could not pull off completely. This particular site had a few fishes in the water as well. No time for a barbeque.


The Team

The team consisted of 5 members, the ones in the pic are: Santhi, Neethu (aka Chala), Arathi (Magneta), Maneesh.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Life 2 Waters Of Kerala part : unos

So this is one of those 'epidose' stories. It starts with a look at an s7 civil Btech sylabus which states that inorder for us to be awarded a degree we are to complete a project work related to some topic that comes under our branch of engineering. Civil engineering being a comparitively stagnant field which moves with a speed of a turtle trying to race along with mud bikes in a pro-biker mud circuit, while other Computer science and electronics compatriots set up websites, chat rooms, instant messengers and Mexx work on rockets or reverse gears for handicapped Kinetic honda users, and we are stuck with either some 'menaketta' design or utterly devastatigly boring road surveys/parking studies/volume studies. So the search for redemption from this boring mediocrity led us to Natpac, who sent us packing to Varkala, to the once operational TS Canal.

Now this is where the first episode takes place, which rests firmly on the shoulders of thorough running around which all the faculty members unfailingly entrust us with before we can actually start any project/seminar. So with a pretty looking and impressive persmission letter from the HOD in our pockets we went behind a Tata indica along dirt roads bumping along in our M800. The first sight of the work area came as a shock even though we had expected the same sight ;huts made from tin sheets and even worse shanties, with half naked kids running along on rough cuts made on cliffhangar kind of shear falls into the dirtiest waters I have seen in a while.

We stepped into the realm of a professional field civil engineer over a cocunut palm stump bridge laid over the stinking stagnant water. On paper the process is simple. Go to study area. Get water in an empty coke bottle. Come back. But this is where our branch of engineering studies kicks the other branches in the butt. We got to climb down slippery, crumbling, narrow ridges, down to the water level, see a dog attacking a cow which was thretening to retreat to a clearing where Mag was standing and pushing her over into the water which the natpac scientist swore had medicinal properties (he even urged me to take a dip in the waters). Santhi was finding it hardest among us, with the exception of the bujji scientist dude from CESS, who was slipping everywhere and dripping with sweat even after the slightest climb. The locals were encouraging us on with vulgar jokes and by staring intently at the three girls in my project group (I think santhi took most of the attention). Chala was her own self all the time, giving very little problems, fitting right into the LACAL settings.

By 4 the sample collection was over and we thought it was absolutely necessary from the point of view of our project that we go and reconnoitre the Varkala beach and survey the abuntant resources of bikini clad foreign women lying prostrate on the beach soaking up the sun( the water was great too, but I was too busy with the many crucial things that would affect my project to notice that). After about 45 minutes walking about the beach we decided we've had enough and set out back to the car (again the bikini women). We were already looking forward to the next visit to site when we would be all alone to take the samples with a local MUNGAL expert ( Rs 175/- per day) professional, who would help us get the water from the top, middle and bottom of the channel.

I will be back with the next epidose as soon as it happens.


how jedi are you?
:: by lawrie malen

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

All Of My Love

Love is something most of us yearn for, and we think that we have never obtained in the amounts that we deserve. We have many people to love us and for us to love, yet we hope to find that special someone, someone we could love so much that we could give up our lives for them, someone we could count on to be there, to support us and be there when we need them. Most of us spend our days dreaming about that perfect person who could understand us, take us for who we are. And we accumulate a wealth of experience enroute the path of 'The Search' for so called eternal bliss. This is a chronicle of a 'not so good at his trade' cassanova about his pursuits of the dame who would complete his life.

I being an above average scorer in shyness and meekness departments during my preteens and early teens, found it almost impossible to look at a girl's face, let alone talk to her and bring up matters of the heart if at all I did feel something towards one of them. Anyway nothing in life remains quite the same for very long, and this came true for me too. Tenth standard was the time when the metamorphosis began to take place, initiated by a Ponmudi family car trip, on the return trip of which I practiced 'eyeballing' the chicks on the road. The exhilarating feeling that this small feat evinced in me urged me onto the pursuit of higher goals and higher motives. But unluckily I was stuck at Arya Central School which offered very few avenues to use my new found courage and practice the newly developed tactical abilities to deal with members of the opposite sex. Nevertheless, that period did give me my first real crush(es), in the form of N M and later S (after reading her slam entry, spiced with flirty comments). But 10th was over before anything worthwhile could start and suddenly I found myself in 11th standard at Arya. This was a time for tutions, tutions and more tutions, and a sudden increase in the number of prospective females that fit my different yet specific criteria for acceptance into my heart (Arya had almost 2:1 ratio of girls to boys).

So love really hit me in the belly, together(almost to the date), from four sides, literally. In case you are wondering, I AM talking about four gals hitting the crush bullseye of my sick for love heart at the same time. First of them was N C, whose eyes I found myself looking into deeply, a couple of days after school started. She was perfect to my eyes at that time ( and not to others) with clear, clean-cut features and a great figure. That avenue crashed a short while later, due to a 'still a mystery' misunderstanding. But it was fun throughout the two years with both of us turning away from each other everytime we met on the corridors. Next on the list is the longest running episode of my life yet: Ag. Meeting her evoked what could have been interpreted as liquid poetry in my heart. Unluckily for me she never knew of my existance even though everyone else in my school and even other schools knew of my big crush and my pencil sketches of the timid beauty. Then came Aish and Di each serving as a motivator for me to attend my tution classes (chemistry and physics respectively). Anyway the next valentines day came and I bought a card ('will you be my valentine' one), and got about to thinking who I would give it to. The dilemma was put to an end with Di winning out logically because physics tution came about closer in the week, and I was in no mood to wait two days more than that was necessary. The card was duly accepted by a blushing Di and returned back yet more promptly the next day with a lot of mumbled apologies. ( *at this point I did think of rerouting the card to Ash but Di had scribbled off her name from the card with an ink pen shabbily and the card was beyond repair!). The next week my dear friend VS informed Ash of her three admirers in the class. She picked the first one easily; me. After some thought the next one too was clear ( third one was self proclaimed by VS as himself) . Anyway Ash too disawowed me stating her reasons to me while weeping on Sushi's shoulders( and to this day I have never regained my trust of girls completely). That left Ag. Twelfth standard passed along nicely with some regained ground with Di and Ash which I did not want too much anymore.

It was the almost the end of school and I wanted to try my last hand with Ag and bought yet another Valentines card (other one was damaged remember). Quite surprisingly she was prompter than any of the others in refusing me, and that is about the only time I have ever seen the poor girl so confident ( glad that I brought out the best in her ). And I thought gloomily that that chapter was to be the shortest of my wannabe love life.

But fate would not let us alone ( let her alone that is) that easily. It is here that most of you are wrong. It is not in college that my wannabe love story with Ag continued, but surprisingly at Tandem where we crashed for two months for entrance coaching. Ag was blushing everyday with me following her around with my eyes and physically when possible. Even there she was made to suffer the consequences of my serialised efforts at making her mine. One of my cousin's friends tried to help me (without my knowledge) and ended up embarrassing her (one of many such embarassments to come). A good friend of mine did her part by teasing the girl out of her wits everyday, which according to my opinion was the period when I had the most chance at a postive response from her. But two months is a short time and it flew by fast.

This is where the story veers back into chartered territory of College Of Engineering Trivandrum, Department Of Civil Engineering (ISO 9001) where we again found ourselves confronted with each other. She missed her step the first time she saw me during the alotment process, which was amusing to watch, but totally understandable after about 15-20 requests with our names splashed across Rosebowl during that period, which her aunt promptly called up and informed her, because she did not have cable television back then. I am sure that even in college the incessant teasing and embarrassing situations (like when introduced to someone as anugeetha the other person suddenly springs "ohh Aswin's ag" on her) continued to haunt her for the first 3 years of college. I put an end to final story of my pre 20s loves in s5 when I told her that I was finally over her and letting her alone (Finally after 5 years). In s7 the tour helped dispell all my illusions and I am finally over the cute little girl. Now looking forward enthusiastically to my bright future in 20s love. Girls here I come.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

FoX HunT

My nerves are strung out, to their ends and I feel the tension up my fingers. I am not sure whether I'll be able to move them when needed. I can feel the sweat on my palms, which I quickly wipe on my trousers. I notice that my eyebrows are twitching uncontrollably. Must be the tension. I try my best to shake away my fears and concentrate on the job at hand. Crouching I thread slowly over the gravel, trying to make as little noise as possible, inspecting each dark corner, expecting an ambush. I find a spot between the rubble walls, hiding myself as much as possible. And then I set out for the wait. It is agonizing, with an attack possible from any direction. Where is he?? I have to get him this time. Atleast. I see movement, in the form of white camoflage specks in brown military plans. Fox came into vision, between those bogies, between the coned wheels. I feel the pressure of the trigger against my finger, and I carefully measuringly ease out two rounds into the enemy's body. Fox is quick to recover, with his AK47, he ducks out of the way of the remaining rounds of my M4A1 Carbine, a couple of them striking the armour. Then he moves quickly and pumps measured breaks of two bullets at me. I feel the slugs hitting me, my aim hard to maintain. Who would win out? Suddenly I feel the blood in my throat. He got me. The damn bastard got me. I'm gonna kill him, next time. And darkness falls upon me.

So this is what has been going on in my night life for the last one week or more. Fever, it is. Counter-Strike has struck me again, this time severe, more powerful, and ever so more exciting. Shifting to ADL has paid off. CSing has become part of my daily routine. 10:30 -12:30 is when we sit in front of our PC's and try to get the better off our opponents, out manouvere them, out witted them, or bloody well send their asses all to hell. The game takes it toll. Everyone is stricken with it. Fox more than others. We take each other on, terrorist versus anti-terrorists on the A-long of de_dust2 or among the bogies of the de_train and even on the well known corridors of de_dust. I see nothing, except for the nooks and crannies where they might be and when they come into view I see the crosshair and try my best to get it to their heads when i press the mouse button. Getting a head shot is something, with the opponent flying backwards, bloodspilling, all with a rag-doll effect. You feel the power of the M4, the AK and the Mp5. You feel the texture of the AK. The guns are never the same. You can feel the difference. You can feel the sexy surfaces of the M4. You can feel it exploding in your hands. You can feel it come back into control after a 3-burst. I hold the mouse with different pressure for each gun.


The practise we are getting now must count to something. Next time we go to a tournament we need tactics. We need practise as a team. Basically we need a clan.

I cant wait to try out my talents in another group. Maybe when i get to Kollam I'll try my luck at the arcades there. Can't wait..!!!

Monday, November 21, 2005

Poochaye Pidichu

So we went on a psuedo picnic. That was what CAT 2005 was. Calicut turned out to be a charming place, surprising mag. The people were extremely helpful and I personally found the place to be quite peaceful and did not have the depressing factor many towns have, like Kollam for instance. Me and Madhavan roamed the city streets, checking out the test centres and all the young gals who were all around. By the end of that day both of us knew most of the routes around the city by heart. Money was a problem. Atleast spending too much of it was. My idiotic reliance temporary stand-in phone was the major culprit. It ate up about 500 bucks and gave me as little talk time as the laws permit.

The next day was D-day. The CATs. Me and Divyasree ( cool gal ) went to our centre and saw 100s of other hopeful faces lining the streets. Some were burying their self respect and studying right on the road sides, sitting on the pavements. CETians for a change were a happy lot. No one seemed tense. Even SM was jovial. My hopes to meet a beautiful chick sitting next to me for the test were shattered with only 3 gals in the room. The tests went fine ( to most of the serious candidates ), with me just trying my hand at math and failing miserably, surpirising more in DI. Verbal was tough they said. But I am no judge because I never tried an AIMCAT. After the test lunch was with Shruti's gang ( hmmm....!!). I had a feeling she was holding back a big "yipeeeeeeeee", the whole time. Maybe I was wrong( was I shrutz? ). That wrapped up a CAT season.

The train trip back was no where as evenful as the one up there. Guys all around were gawking at Vidya who was looking too sexy in her tight low waists and tight black Ts ( guys stop imagining ). So overall it was a great trip. Had fun . Met atleast two new gals ( ;) ).
Overall rating : 8

P.s: i gotta find out the name of one of the girls i met !!!!!

Monday, November 07, 2005

Arms Swing Wide

Moto GP is something that me and my friends follow on a moderate scale. And Valentino Rossi is a name that has almost become synonymous with the sport. Some might even say he has grown more than the sport itself, which according to me is not true. Anyway, watching a race pumps up adrenaline and a urge to just burn rubber overtakes us all. Lately it has been affecting me pretty much completely and my riding has turned lethal. After a day of hard riding ( tvm to kollam in about 45 mins ) and back half the way in even shorter time, I caught up with my cousin and saw her off at the Trivandrum airport.

At night even though it was raining we decided to go for our customary weekly shanghumugham trip. So JJ was riding his old CBZ in front of me with Suni behind him. It ofcourse had no headlights. So anyway to cut a long story short he crashed into a cyclist at, say 80 kmph ( on a max 30 kmph road ). Luckily no one was seriously hurt. We took them to the hospital to get the cuts and bruises dressed. Grim we should have been, but grim we were not. I've been riding slow today.

Saturday, October 29, 2005

Too many beds without a coffee machine

Life is never simple. But you always end up wishing it were. How you would like to be rid of all the choices. Some people are guided by rules and boundaries,which may be good for them, or bad depending on your perspective. Others who are not may sometimes find things easy, with many choices and at times harder because of the same abundance of choices.

We for one stand at a time when these choices could make a big difference in our lives. The path we take, would decide where we end up after many years when we have lost track of where we had started from and why. We may end up satisfied, Unhappy or just plain bored. But we would never know the other side. Luckily for me the choices are limited, that is if i choose to be smart. But where will this life we have decided upon ( or almost decided upon ) take us? Did'nt we all crave for adventure, romance, happiness.. Are we getting what we had hoped for, yearned for?

But even if our lives were to bring everything that we has ever wanted I seriously doubt it whether most of us would appreciate it as much as it would deserve. Talking of adventure, romance , happiness, sorrow for that matter.. Did'nt we all dream of them when we enbarked onto our college lives? Did we find them. Maybe we never recognised the moments that counted. Maybe we never knew, or felt that our lives were passing through our fingers waiting to be felt and never felt again in the same way. How do we capture these moments for ever, without losing the flavour of the moment, savouring each second, knowing that the moments are lost in time, to be remembered fondly?

Think again. This is our last chance. Last chance at a life as you have ever imagined, better than you have imagined, yet different than you have imagined. Take control, steer clear, stear ahead......Straight into the future.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Introspection

So rahi and me were on a chorri spree, with us trying to match our wits against each other. So finally she decides to be honest and begins to tell me how i happen to be the perfect('est) example of a being with a pure sense of superiority complex. But the spree came to an end pretty soon with rahi throwing in the towel(or something like that), leaving me alone to think about that particular remark, during the never ending steel structures lecture. Well to start off she hit the mark precisely, and concurrent with my views for a change. I do believe I ( and almost all bloggers i know ) have a healthy serving of superiority complex. To be fair, most of the bloggers in my circle do deserve to have their share of it and in some cases a lot more. I think that it is very healthy, under the circumstances to search one's soul and find a bit of self assurance and drive to help one ( in our condition ) out on the road to a bright and Bill Gate'ish future. I for one am not a staunch supporter of the equality of all men ( and women ) principle. If one were to believe that or a much negative, all men are superior, he would find himself in the serious lack of confidence and drive. This certainly does not imply an instinct to disregard or underestimate ones peers or in general other men. It would infact be proper to credit this factor as being a major player in the rise of human kind to a certain extent. Some men ( not implying myself ) feel the need to establish, build, create something better, something new, novel. They feel mankind left to itself cannot establish much and hence take things into their own hands. Maybe they reason that something as important as people's lives should not be left to the people themselves. Some people see things clearly. Some people see some things some things clearly. Would they be a good judge on what they see clearly.

It seems my try at an intellectual discussion has met a miserable end. Why do I try to do it ? Do I believe that most people are stupid and I am not ? Well don't you too???

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

an awakening...

And then there was light. Light. I finally see the light. Freedom. Freedom from it all. Finally. Finally I am on an Asianet Dataline (ADL) 256 kbps broadband connection. So the days of messy dial up connections, waiting for two hours for a download/upload, the complete feeling of helplessness, may it be while listening to friends talk about gaming, or when they talk about how they have never seen a transfer bar, has come to a crashing end.

The wait for the double petti(the dialup connection icon on the startup bar) to light up,the frustration has come to an end. Now I have stepped into the next generation. New Life.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

>left 2 ImaGine

Tours are good in many ways. They provide a vision, a vision at the cross section of society we probably never again would be able to see. They remain in our memory for ever as the happiest days of our lives (if you are lucky). Friendships are made, strengthened, redefined and broken. If you are in the right frame of mind you could probably count on having a life changing experience on you hands.

As far as I am concerned tours have always changed my life, in one way or other, but changed quite drastically nonetheless. All the days people get to think about the millions and million of things, the lonely hours with no one to talk to, with no one to lean against is what could destroy a perfectly good tour for you. Well our little story is the manifestation of the above mentioned variables all coming together perfectly for about 50 my unluckily mentally quite stunted compatriots in civil. So the lack of intelligence coupled with lack of intellectual stimulation(which ofcourse has the prerequisite of an intellect) and abudance of negative energy(read pure evil) resulted in many technicolored dreams among the poor souls under discussion(fondest thoughts graze my mind at this point of time) . Well what resulted was an example of how a television soap( a bad one, say like manasi for godsake ) reenacted at a top technical institution could still provide as many oppurtunities for making fun of bad actors, bad direction and basically just for the heck of making fun, as much as the real thing( me reminded of sthree janmam, which is apt cos many of the actors here are sthrees too, and stupid too!!) . So now i've learned that a certain EX-civil topper(lemme see who all qualify for that...) resents the fact of having the EX affixed to her and would do anything to alievate the pain. An idea strikes her head; an accusal, but what? It has to be something serious; ahh got it. So what better than take the accusal straight to a really stupid faculty member. The task is made easy by the fact that the civil department has this as a basic character trait required for admission as a lecturer. So it does not take the unintelligent, dumb, ugly and unwitty character much time to find a suitable lecturer( refered to as P, say) . It helps that that P is here with M( that is a say too, and M qualifies well to be a civil lect.). M is ready to listen to everything P says as M apparently used to have an immense crush on P and is still now ready to kiss P's shoestrings. So the EX pours her dark heart onto the coffee table of P&M (well it was quite an observation on dasan's part to notice M took all his meals and drinks with P, how he managed to, elludes explanation), and the venom now passes from one stupid carrier to another rather slow witted carrier. The EX had help from her darker yet twin sister (whose name shall not be spoken out aloud, so CODENAME:Voldemort or V) who often makes the mistake of thinking that she actually has brain cells just because she can put some girls into a particular number of rooms. So the vortex spins on and in the mist we see all the poor hellbound civil non entities dicussing the hallucinations of many a period ridden girl.

So there are other interesting characters too. One of them, who has been pretending to be such a close friend of mine during the tour, so nice all the time, asking me to do everything for her, was infact acting out her dream of being a detective photographer. The misguided soul ( character description: the usual chorri image>fat,ugly complete with that stupid look, big reading glasses ) , who obviously is exptremely depressed about not having a guy in sometime, went running around trying to take a snap of any gal and guy sitting together. When a guy and two gals sit together, she sees a threesome through her understandably troubled eyes(someone could'nt use their toys for some days). Well, if somebody were to ask me, the ratios were wrong everywhere. Why did a big guy(lets call him hachoom) and girl who sat together all the time not figure in the P list. Well it was a honeymoon trip for them too(who knows, we did not see anything,we closed our eyes in the fear that we might see something). Then there was another one, unbelievably even stupider than the others from my personal experience, who was sleeping on anyone's shoulder. But luckily for them they are Voldemort's and EX's close buddies and hence the ratios are cut off and the stories are put back into the fridge(but we've got the keys too!!!).

So after a few days suddenly somebody spills the beans..everything is out. The scene ofcourse is pretty predictable. Counter round table and acacia conferences happen daily to counter the allegations that have arisen. The permutations handling the complexities of contact between the co-compatriots have taken a serious mathematical simplification. No one talks. But still everyone talks. So now, the characters, some who feel a lot of guilt about propogating life shattering gossips are afraid of getting beaten up by the player on the hot seat( Playa). Playa is taking it cool . He makes enquiries, jots down who are gonna get it when the time comes, makes his own hit list. The author is too busy on this front. As is evident

NEVER SAY DIE ...DIE BITCHES DIEEEEEE....

Sunday, October 02, 2005

disclaimer

This is to notify that the blogs that are to be published as of now are solely for the exclusive reading pleasure of the author's close friends from college, which only include magneta, meenakshy, sweetliar, ethnicsoul, rahi30384, zoyanits & sreejith, and who ever from the realm of the wide wide net who does not study along with the author in the Department of Civil Engineering, College Of Engineering Trivandrum. So anyone who does not meet with the following criteria please do not enter the premises of the following internet web log.

Monday, August 29, 2005

>Leading the way to the new generation XploCivZ

So its exam season again. But one has to say an engineering course over do's it a little bit. As one looks back to the good old days, in the '02 year,we as freshers sat for our series exams, so afraid, so sure that this was the motive of our lives, the very core of our existance and now we now understand how far away from the truth we really were, atleast most us do.

My first exam may not be the perfect example, with chala passing me a whole 40 marks sheet helping me secure 70 in the first series math exam. The spectacle was fortuanately or unfortunately not repeated for the second series with me confined to a meagre 8 out of 100, which thankfully the poor math proffesor did not deem important enought to deny me the luxury of above 35 out of 50 for internals. But luck held strong during the S1S2 exams, with an unbelievable number of 'on the brink' scores and a KU concocted conditional clause, which ceremoniously crawls into most of my miraculous university esacapades. The thread of singe digit math marks adorned all my internal exam marklists, 7 and 3 for the third semester ,8 something in the fourth. But being cheated out of a conditional pass in FM in the third because of math finally persuaded me to go for math tutions and that dragged me into the mid fifties for math in the universities.

Then comes the day the internals are out, everyone going mad, not as much out of the concern for their marks but more out of the frustration of finding out again and again that the department has yet again managed not to put up the marks at all with the exam right upon our heads. My marks are never a surprise, with it staying within the safe limit of 2-4 undersessionals, which in by no way unfair. (*But guys let me say ,you can never stress the importance of sessionals.*)

Writing exams were always fun for me. But for all the wrong reasons. It could be said that I like it for more of the not writing part that the writing part. Pitt had high expectations for me , and so did Madhavan with me beating them out of the exam hall in every one of the 9 theory exams, but again fortunately or unfortunately i let them all down with me filing not even one suppli. So that was a big surprise for everyone.

So now that I am in S7, with the first series underway I find myself in a pivotal position( and nostalgic too) from where to influence a lot of raw and extremely impressionable young minds, in the form of the third semester juniors. They need guidance, spiritual guidance , well....I figure they need a role model!! So tomorrow ,I'm shedding all the pretense of decent ,well dressed responsible young adult male and reverting back to my original self ,though not to the original full glory , back to those torn and loud t's and unbelievable jeans and going to retire from the exam battleground within 15 minutes of the battle horns being blown.

ME the LONE WARRIOR >>> IIII STAND ALLOOOONNEEEE!!!!!

Monday, August 15, 2005

How to make an H-Bomb at home

Making and owning an H-bomb is the kind of challenge real Indians seek. Who wants to be a passive victim of nuclear war when, with a little effort, you can be an active participant? Bomb shelters are for losers. Who wants to huddle together underground eating canned Spam? Winners want to push the button themselves. Making your own H-bomb is a big step in nuclear assertiveness training -- it's called Taking Charge. We're sure you'll enjoy the risks and the heady thrill of playing nuclear chicken.

Not I support nuclear terrorism. I do not. I would prefer to die slowly from familiar poisons like low-level radiation, microwaves, DDT, DBCP, aflatoxins, PBBs, PBCs, or food dyes, rather than unexpectedly, say as hostage to a Latvian nationalist brandishing a homemade bomb. In my view the real terrorists are the governments, American, Soviet, French, Chinese, and British, that are hoarding H-bombs for their own use, and worse still, those governments (U.S., French and German) that are eagerly peddling advanced nuclear technology to countries like South Africa, Brazil, and Argentina so that they can make their own bombs. When these bombs are used, and they will be, it will be the world's big-time nuclear peddlers, along with corporate suppliers like General Electric, Westinghouse, and Gulf Oil, that we can thank for it. Gagging The Progressive will do no more for national security than backyard bomb shelters because like it or not the news is out.



Part 1: Making Your Bomb


The heart of the successful H-bomb is the successful A-bomb. Once you've got your A-bombs made the rest is frosting on the cake. All you have to do is set them up so that when they detonate they'll start off a hydrogen-fusion reaction.

Step 1: Getting the Ingredients

Uranium is the basic ingredient of the A-bomb. When a uranium atom's nucleus splits apart, it releases a tremendous amount of energy (for its size), and it emits neutrons which go on to split other nearby uranium nuclei, releasing more energy, in what is called a "chain reaction." (When atoms split, matter is converted into energy according to Einstein's equation E=MC2. What better way to mark his birthday than with your own atomic fireworks?)

There are two kinds (isotopes) of uranium: the rare U-235, used in bombs, and the more common, heavier, but useless U-238. Natural uranium contains less than 1 percent U-235 and in order to be usable in bombs it has to be "enriched" to 90 percent U-235 and only 10 percent U-238. Plutonium-239 can also be used in bombs as a substitute for U-235. Ten pounds of U-235 (or slightly less plutonium) is all that is necessary for a bomb. Less than ten pounds won't give you a critical mass. So purifying or enriching naturally occurring uranium is likely to be your first big hurdle. It is infinitely easy to steal ready-to-use enriched uranium or plutonium than to enrich some yourself. And stealing uranium is not as hard as it sounds.

There are at least three sources of enriched uranium or plutonium...

Enriched uranium is manufactured at a gaseous diffusion plant in Portsmouth, Ohio. From there it is shipped in 10 liter bottles by airplane and trucks to conversion plants that turn it into uranium oxide or uranium metal. Each 10 liter bottle contains 7 kilograms of U-235, and there are 20 bottles to a typical shipment. Conversion facilities exist at Hematite, Missouri; Apollo, Pennsylvania; and Erwin, Tennessee.

The Kerr-McGee plant at Crescent Oklahoma -- where Karen Silkwood worked -- was a conversion plant that "lost" 40 lbs of plutonium. Enriched uranium can be stolen from these plants or from fuel-fabricating plants like those in New Haven, San Diego; or Lynchburg, Virginia. (A former Kerr-McGee supervisor, James V. Smith, when asked at the Silkwood trial if there were any security precautions at the plant to prevent theft, testified that "There were none of any kind, no guards, no fences, no nothing.")

Plutonium can be obtained from places like United Nuclear in Pawling, New York; Nuclear Fuel Services in Erwin, Tennessee; General Electric in Pleasanton, California; Westinghouse in Cheswick, Pennsylvania; Nuclear Materials and Equipment Corporation (NUMEC) in Leechburg, Pennsylvania; and plants in Hanfford, Washington and Morris, Illinois. According to Rolling Stone magazine the Israelis were involved in the theft of plutonium from NUMEC.

Finally you can steal enriched uranium or plutonium while it's en-route from conversion plants to fuel fabricating plants. It is usually transported (by air or truck) in the form of uranium oxide, a brownish powder resembling instant coffee, or as a metal, coming in small chunks called "broken buttons." Both forms are shipped in small cans stacked in 5-inch cylinders braced with welded struts in the center of ordinary 55 gallon steel drums. The drums weigh about 100 pounds and are clearly marked "Fissible Material" or "Danger, Plutonium." A typical shipment might go from the enrichment plant at Portsmouth, Ohio to the conversion plant in Hematite Missouri then to Kansas City by truck where it would be flown to Los Angeles and then trucked down to the General Atomic plant in San Diego. The plans for the General Atomic plant are on file at the Nuclear Regulatory Commission's reading room at 1717 H Street NW Washington. A Xerox machine is provided for the convenience of the public.

If you can't get hold of any enriched uranium you'll have to settle for commercial grade (20 percent U-235). This can be stolen from university reactors of a type called TRIGA Mark II, where security is even more casual than at commercial plants.

If stealing uranium seems too tacky, you can buy it. Unenriched uranium is available at any chemical supply house for $23 a pound. Commercial grade (3 to 20 percent enriched) is available for $40 a pound from Gulf Atomic. You'll have to enrich it further yourself. Quite frankly this can be something of a pain in the ass. You'll need to start with a little more than 50 pounds of commercial-grade uranium. (It's only 20 percent U-235 at best, and you need 10 pounds of U-235 so... ) But with a little kitchen-table chemistry you'll be able to convert the solid uranium oxide you've purchased into a liquid form. Once you've done that, you'll be able to separate the U-235 that you'll need from the U-238.

First pour a few gallons of concentrated hydrofluoric acid into your uranium oxide, converting it to uranium tetrafluoride. (Safety note: Concentrated hydrofluoric acid is so corrosive that it will eat its way through glass, so store it only in plastic. Used 1-gallon plastic milk containers will do.) Now you have to convert your uranium tetrafluoride to uranium hexafluoride, the gaseous form of uranium, which is convenient for separating out the isotope U-235 from U-238.

To get the hexafluoride form, bubble fluorine gas into your container of uranium tetrafluoride. Fluorine is available in pressurized tanks from chemical-supply firms. Be careful how you use it though because fluorine is several times more deadly than chlorine, the classic World War I poison gas. Chemists recommend that you carry out this step under a stove hood (the kind used to remove unpleasant cooking odors).

If you've done your chemistry right you should now have a generous supply of uranium hexafluoride ready for enriching. In the old horse-and-buggy days of A-bomb manufacture the enrichment was carried out by passing the uranium hexafluoride through hundreds of miles of pipes, tubes, and membranes, until the U-235 was eventually separated from the U-238. This gaseous-diffusion process, as it was called is difficult, time-consuming, and expensive. Gaseous-diffusion plants cover hundreds of acres and cost in the neighborhood of $2-billion each. So forget it. There are easier, and cheaper, ways to enrich your uranium.

First transform the gas into a liquid by subjecting it to pressure. You can use a bicycle pump for this. Then make a simple home centrifuge. Fill a standard-size bucket one-quarter full of liquid uranium hexafluoride. Attach a six-foot rope to the bucket handle. Now swing the rope (and attached bucket) around your head as fast as possible. Keep this up for about 45 minutes. Slow down gradually, and very gently put the bucket on the floor. The U-235, which is lighter, will have risen to the top, where it can be skimmed off like cream. Repeat this step until you have the required 10 pounds of uranium. (Safety note: Don't put all your enriched uranium hexafluoride in one bucket. Use at least two or three buckets and keep them in separate corners of the room. This will prevent the premature build-up of a critical mass.)

Now it's time to convert your enriched uranium back to metal form. This is easily enough accomplished by spooning several ladlefuls of calcium (available in tablet form from your drugstore) into each bucket of uranium. The calcium will react with the uranium hexafluoride to produce calcium fluoride, a colorless salt which can be easily be separated from your pure enriched uranium metal. (Safety note: Even though it is a salt, keep it away from your kitchen's spice rack.)

A few precautions:

* While uranium is not dangerously radioactive in the amounts you'll be handling, if you plan to make more than one bomb it might be wise to wear gloves and a lead apron, the kind you can buy in dental supply stores.

* Plutonium is one of the most toxic substances known. If inhaled, a thousandth of a gram can cause massive fibrosis of the lungs, a painful way to go. Even a millionth of a gram in the lungs will cause cancer. If eaten, plutonium is metabolized like calcium. It goes straight to the bones where it gives out alpha particles preventing bone marrow from manufacturing red blood cells. The best way to avoid inhaling plutonium is to hold your breath while handling it. If this is too difficult, wear a mask. To avoid ingesting plutonium orally follow this simple rule: never make an A-bomb on an empty stomach.

* If you find yourself dozing off while you're working, or if you begin to glow in the dark, it might be wise to take a blood count. Prick your finger with a sterile pin, place a drop of blood on a microscope slide, cover it with a cover slip, and examine under a microscope. (Best results are obtained in the early morning.) When you get leukemia, immature cells are released into the bloodstream, and usually the number of white cells increases (though this increase might take almost 2 weeks). Red blood cells look kind of like donuts (without the hole), and are slightly smaller than the white cells, each of which has a nucleus. Immature red cells look similar to white cells (i.e.. slightly larger and have a nucleus). If you have more than about 1 white cell (including immature ones) to 400 red cells then start to worry. But, depending upon your plans for the eventual use of the bomb, a short life expectancy might not be a problem.



Step 2: Assembling the A-Bomb

Now that you've acquired the enriched uranium, all that's left is to assemble your A-bomb. Go find a couple of stainless steel salad bowls. You also want to separate your 10 pounds of U-235 into two hunks. (Keep them apart!) The idea is to push each half your uranium into the inside of a bowl.

Take one hunk of your uranium and beat it into the inside of the first bowl. Uranium is malleable, like gold, so you should have no trouble hammering it into the bowl to get a good fit. Take another five-pound hunk of uranium and fit it into a second stainless steel bowl. These two bowls of U-235 are the "subcritical masses" which, when brought together forcefully, will provide the critical mass that makes your A-bomb go. Keep them a respectful distance apart while working because you don't want them to "go critical" on you... At least not yet.

Now hollow out the body of an old canister-type vacuum cleaner and place your two hemispherical bowls inside, open ends facing each other, no less than seven inches apart, using masking tape to set them up in position. The reason for the steel bowls and the vacuum cleaner, in case you're wondering, is that these help reflect the neutrons back into the uranium for a more efficient explosion. "A loose neutron is a useless neutron" as the A-bomb pioneers used to say.

As far as the A-bomb goes, you're almost done. The final problem is to figure out how to get the two U-235 hemispheres to smash into each other with sufficient force to set off a truly effective fission reaction. Almost any type of explosive can be used to drive them together. Gunpowder, for example, is easily made at home from potassium nitrate, sulfur, and carbon. Or, you can get some blasting caps or TNT. (Buy them or steal them from a construction site.) Best of all is C4 plastic explosive. You can mold it around your bowls, and it's fairly safe to work with. (But, it might be wise to shape it around an extra salad bowl in another room, and THEN fit it to your uranium-packed bowls. This is particularly true in winter, when a stray static electrical charge might induce ignition in the C4. A responsible bomb maker considers it impolite to accidentally destroy more of the neighborhood than absolutely necessary.)

Once the explosives are in place all you need to do is hook up a simple detonation device with a few batteries, a switch, and some wire. Remember though that it is essential that the two charges -- one on each side of the casing -- go off simultaneously.

Now put the whole thing in the casing of an old Hoover vacuum cleaner and you're finished with this part of the process.

The rest is easy.



Step 3: Make More A-Bombs Following the Directions Above

You'll need a total of at least four.



A Word to the Wise About Wastes


After your A-bomb is completed you'll have a pile of moderately fatal radioactive wastes like U-238. These are not dangerous, but you do have to get rid of them. You can flush leftovers down the toilet. (Don't worry about polluting the ocean, there is already so much radioactive waste there, a few more bucketfuls won't make any waves whatsoever.) If you're the fastidious type -- the kind who never leaves gum under their seat at the movies -- you can seal the nasty stuff in coffee cans and bury it in the backyard, just like Uncle Sam does. If the neighbor kids have a habit of trampling the lawn, tell them to play over by the waste. You'll soon find that they're spending most of their time in bed.





Going First Class
If you're like us, you're feeling the economic pinch, and you'll want to make your bomb as inexpensively as possible, consonant of course with reasonable yield. The recipe we've given is for a budget-pleasing H-bomb, no frills, no flourishes; it's just a simple 5-megaton bomb, capable of wiping out the New York metropolitan area, the San Francisco Bay area, or Boston. But don't forget, your H-bomb will only be as good as the A-bombs in it.

If you want to spend a little more money you can punch-up your A-bomb considerably. Instead of centrifuging your uranium by hand, you can buy a commercial centrifuge. (Fisher Scientific sells one for about $1000.) You also might want to be fussier about your design. The Hiroshima bomb, a relatively crude one, only fissioned 1 percent of it's uranium and yielded only 13 kilotons. In order to fission more of the uranium, the force of your explosive "trigger" needs to be evenly diffused around the sphere; the same pressure has to be exerted on every point of the sphere simultaneously. (It was a technique for producing this sort of simultaneous detonation by fashioning the explosives into lenses that the government accused Julius and Ethel Rosenberg of trying to steal).






Part 2: Putting Your H-Bomb Together


The heart of the H-bomb is the fusion process. Several A-bombs are detonated in such a way as to create the extremely high temperature (100 million degrees C) necessary to fuse lithium deuteride (LiD) into helium. When the lithium nucleus slams into the deuterium nucleus, two helium nuclei are created, and if this happens to enough deuterium nuclei rapidly enough, the result is an enormous amount of energy: the energy of the H-bomb. You don't have to worry about stealing lithium deuteride, it can be purchased from any chemical-supply house. It costs $1000 a pound. If your budget won't allow it you can substitute lithium hydride at $40 a pound. You will need at least 100 pounds. It's a corrosive and toxic powder so be careful.

Place the lithium deuteride or hydride in glass jars and surround it with four A-bombs in their casings. Attach them to the same detonator so that they will go off simultaneously. The container for the whole thing is no problem. They can be placed anywhere: Inside an old stereo console, a discarded refrigerator, etc...

When the detonator sets off the four A-bombs all eight hemispheres of fissionable material will slam into each other at the same time creating four critical masses and four detonations. This will raise the temperature of the lithium deuteride to 100 million degrees C fast enough (a few billionths of a second) so that the lithium will not be blown all over the neighborhood before the nuclei have time to fuse. The result, at least 1000 times the punch of the puny A-bomb that leveled Hiroshima (20 million tons of TNT vs. 20 thousand tons.)





Part 3: What to do With Your Bomb
Now that you have a fully assembled H-bomb housed in an attractive console of your choice you may be wondering, "What should I do with it?" Every family will have to answer this question according to its own tastes and preferences, but you may want to explore some possibilities which have been successfully pioneered by the American government.

1. Sell Your Bomb and Make a Pile of Money

In these days of rising inflation, increasing unemployment, and an uncertain economic outlook, few businesses make as much sense as weapons production. If your career forecast is cloudy, bomb sales may be the only sure way to avoid the humiliation of receiving welfare, or unemployment. Regardless of your present income level, a home H-bomb business can be an invaluable income supplement, and certainly a profitable alternative to selling Tupperware or pirated Girl Scout cookies.

Unfortunately for the family bomb business, big government has already cornered a large part of the world market. But this does not mean that there is a shortage of potential customers. The raid on Entebee was the Waterloo of hijacking, and many nationalist groups are now on the alert for new means to get their message across. They'd jump at the chance to get hold of an H-bomb. Emerging nations which can't ante up enough rice or sugar to buy themselves a reactor from G.E. or Westinghouse are also shopping around.

You may wonder about the ethics of selling to nations, or groups, whose goals you may disapprove of. But here again, take a tip from our government: forget ideology -- it's cash that counts. And remember, H-bomb sales have a way of escalating, almost like a chain reaction. Suppose you make a sale to South Yemen which you believe to be a Soviet puppet. Well within a few days some discrete inquiries from North Yemen and possibly the Saudis, the Egyptians and the Ethiopians as well can be expected. Similarly, a sale to the IRA will generate a sale to the Ulster government; and a sale to the Tanzanians will bring the Ugandans running, and so forth.

It doesn't matter WHICH side you're on, only how many sides there are. Don't forget about the possibility of repeat sales to the same customer. As the experience of both the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. has shown, each individual nation has a potentially infinite need for H-bombs. No customer -- no matter how small -- can ever have too many.


2. Use Your Bomb at Home


Many families are attracted to the H-bomb simply as a "deterrent." A discrete sticker on the door or on the living room window saying "This Home Protected by H-bomb" will discourage IRS investigators, census takers, and Jehovah's Witnesses. You'll be surprised how fast the crime rate will go down and property values will go up. And once the news gets out that you are a home H-bomb owner you'll find that you have unexpected leverage in neighborhood disputes over everything from parking places and stereo noise levels to school tax rates. So relax and enjoy the pride and excitement of home H-bomb ownership!




Is It For You?


Let's be honest. The H-bomb isn't for everyone. Frankly there are people who can't handle it. They break out in hives at the very mention of mega-death, fallout, or radiation sickness.

The following quiz will help you find out whether you have what it takes for home H-bomb ownership. If you can answer "yes" to six or more of these questions, then you're emotionally eligible to join the nuclear club. If not, a more conventional weapon may be more your cup of tea, try botulism-toxin, laser rays, or nerve gas.

1. I ignore the demands of others.

2. I subscribe to one or more of the following: Soldier of Fortune, Hustler, Popular Mechanics, Self.

3. Though I have many interesting acquaintances, I am my own best friend.

4. I know what to say after you say "Hello," but I am seldom interested in pursuing the conversation.

5. I have seen the movie "The Deer Hunter" more than once.

6. I know that everyone can be a winner if they want to, and I resent whiners.

7. I own one or more of the following: handgun, video game, trash compactor, snowmobile.

8. I am convinced that leukemia is psychosomatic.

9. I am aware that most vegetarians are sexually impotent.

10. I have read evidence that solar energy is a Communist conspiracy.





Myths About Nuclear War
Ever since the first mushroom cloud over Hiroshima ushered in the atomic age, a small group of nay-sayers and doom-mongers has lobbied, campaigned and demonstrated to convince Americans that H-bomb ownership, along with nuclear power, is dangerous and unhealthy. Using their virtual stranglehold over the media, these people have tried to discredit everything nuclear from energy to war. They have vastly overrated the risks of nuclear bombs and left many Americans feeling demoralized and indecisive; not sure where the truth lies. Well, here are the myths, and here are the facts.


Myth: After a nuclear exchange the earth will no longer be suitable for human habitation.

Fact: This is completely false. According to one scientist (quoted in John McPee's The Curve of Binding Energy) "The largest bomb that has ever been exploded anywhere was 60 megatons, and that is one-thousandth the force of an earthquake, one-thousandth the force of a hurricane. We have lived with earthquakes and hurricanes for a long time." Another scientist adds, "It is often assumed that a full blown nuclear war would be the end of life on earth. That is far from the truth. To end life on earth would take at least a thousand times the total yield of all the nuclear explosives existing in the world, and probably a lot more." Even if humans succumbed, many forms of life would survive a nuclear free-for-all, cockroaches, certain forms of bacteria, and lichens, for instance.


Myth: Radiation is bad for you.

Fact: Everything is bad for you if you have too much of it. If you eat too many bananas you'll get a stomach-ache. If you get too much sun you can get sunburned (or even skin cancer). Same thing with radiation. Too much may make you feel under the weather, but nuclear industry officials insist that there is no evidence that low-level radiation has any really serious adverse effects. And, high-level radiation may bring unexpected benefits. It speeds up evolution by weeding out unwanted genetic types and creating new ones. (Remember the old saying, "Two heads are better than one.") Nearer to home, it's plain that radiation will get rid of pesky crab grass and weeds, and teenagers will find that brief exposure to a nuclear burst vaporizes acne and other skin blemishes. (Many survivors of the Hiroshima bomb found that they were free from skin and its attendant problems forever.)


We hope this clears up any misconceptions you may have had. Enjoy your H-Bomb!

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

~* through the key hole...me *~

In a daze .... pulsing ... abrasive.. edging through scratching the ends... the cuts ...deepen... blood drips down the skin .... How could i raise my head against the flow.. it is pushing me below the surface ... i choke.... the hatred swells up.. blood pumps up.... i feel it pulsing through my viens.... lifting my eyes.... whatever i see ... why ? ... my arms feeling numb... i raise them .. cover my face... the coldness that grips me from within ... how will i get over it... where is humanity.. it cuts through flesh ..skin... cushioning my fall ... slow..... then i rise... the strength flows back ... feeling it ... rushing up ... i scream with it.... and it takes over..... all the power transformed... form .. it is hurting.. the ache in my head is growing .. my heart.. who knows....

As I walk ... walk through the mist... dew drops forming on my stubble... yet fingers finding the warmth from her fingers... the moonlight shines through the clouds .. through the mist .. lighting up her face.. ah.. so beautiful .. i want to keep looking at her.. she smiles... i tighten my fingers around hers... the wind flutters her clothes about her fragile body .. i want to take her in my arms.. hold her .. never to let go .. a tear forms in my eye.. not from sadness.. but who knows why... it fills my eye ... rolls down.. she turns to me... looking into my eyes...her face shows it all.. so clear ... i could see to her depths.. i could see myself there...her hair flows over her face... her delicate hand brushes it off her face... I knew she was happy... happy to be with me.. cos she knew she made me the happiest man on earth.... I love her forever... she is my girl ... and she is happy for that.. I love my girl ...

Monday, July 18, 2005

D : The Story Of A Director >Amatuer~

7 o' clock . That was a time unheard of. But they woke up early for the D day . JB woke up early that day , so did bleak , shank and AJ . They began to trickle into JB's shack from fifteen minutes past 7 . Bleak reached there by 7:30 . They tried to tape a soundtrack onto an olympus microrecorder . But that having failed they tried with a regular tape and recorder , and that suceeded . Now everything was ready , the guitar , the keyboard , the backup power , the Sony Handycam , all the right wires , the screenplay board . Everything was loaded into Bleak's M800 , and AJ and JB clambered on top of AJ's Hyosung GF170 . The journey had begun , with Bleak at the wheel of the M800 . They first stopped at JJ's house and picked him up in his "cochin hanifa" costume . Well that would have to suffice they summarised and got on way . Bleak being new to the arena of 4 wheeled vehicles , was a bit slow which suited everyone fine since the destination was high range , Ponmudi .

Most of the drive up the hills was uneventful , except for tons of goals self inflicted by Shank , mildly hurting his pride . Then suddenly they ran into a ceiling , a ceiling of fog or clouds . They could'nt see even 5 metres in front of them . But they carried on , and on the first scenic location jumped out of the car and setup for a shot . JB's was the first , with bleak behind the lens . JB poured out his heart in front of the camera and then JJ joined in with something resembling the wail of a mortally injured donkey . AJ rocked with the slash act , staging it , faking it perfectly . They had got their shot and it was a wrap . Next up , making their way slowly and steadily up the hill they proceeded onto top station . There the mist intensified , and the bearing to the hill or the risky path leading to the top was hidden . Suddenly to top it all off came the rain . The cold cut them like daggers , tearing at their skins , the winds threatening to blow them off the mountain . Finally when they reached the top of the mountain , the fog was so thick that much of the shots taken were threatening to go wasted because of the lens fogging up .

With Ponmudi in the bag , the team started on way to Kallar . There they descended down the steps to gushing waters , with force enough to wash away anyone in their path . The team threaded among the slippery rocks in knee deep gushing mountain stream , bone chillingly cold , waters , sometimes needing a lot of persuation from the director to make it across a slightly riskier stretch of water . Finally the shot was done . A few shots of JB's vocals were also taken . Kallar was a wrap too . The team now moved to Aruvikkara , where a few shots were filmed between rock walls . So finally the day was over . And there was almost half an hour of video . Everyone was happy . They all went home happy .

Now poor director needs to turn editor and learn Premier to edit out the video into a 5 minute rock video .

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Shoot To Kill

Well its been almost three years in the works now . Actually it started years back , within the person himself , within the budding artist . My friend Jonathan Bruce is the person under question and his quest to make music , and that too a pretty good specimen of it , has been a continually devoloping story in itself . In the beginning it was amatuerish , but still fresh and catchy . Basically snappy tunes , hoards of explicit lyrics and a lot of fun : that would be how I would classify the first tunes , which included the funny 'Karuthamma' , and such other atrocities against common taste ( they were actually quite good !!) . Then started the age of favorites , with each new song being written quicky catching on in the circle and becoming favorites fast . Personally my favorite is a song called 'Wanna get down' , with its own hip-hop and rock versions both equally good . But what caught everyones fancy was another funny song 'Mood' ( the title being in malayalam ..LOL) . So that was going on great with everyone who listened to it going home humming the tune . But then suddenly everything changed . Thats where another great song , 'Swachamaya' made its debut . It was a crowd favorite , allegedly bringing tears to Ajmals's eyes the first time he was subjected to a vocal reproduction of the touching but somewhat simply prosed lyrics . Anyway , the execution was in a class of its own , with no current malayalam song coming anywhere close to it in its setting . Well , one would think that was the end of it , but no , thats when the artist's fancy brought to life another funny song to strike ' Mood ' off the popular charts . That was the witty and extremely catchy ' Da aval po'onnu' . The lyrics would probably send everyone tearing their hair out on listening to it for the first time , but still send them back to it out of sheer curiosity . The offbeat and simple lyrics would send anyone into peals of laughter . And here too the execution is perfect , and its obvious too .

There are other great songs too , thus sending the total count of good songs to about 10 . And each is unique , with a classical song 'Shruthiyay' . Well , now its upto producer Phillippose Kurian to decide which one is going to be made into a full budgeted music video . I strongly suggested 'da aval po'onu' . Well we have started shooting "Thalarathe" video with an amatuerish Sony Handycam and an amatuerish , poor old , me as the camera man . God what all do I want to do in this world :) .~~~

Saturday, July 09, 2005

Gods Own Country

Well , since I have been out of the blogging scene for a while now , its high time I redeemed my presence in the cyber world . Many things have happened in the little while I was away . Maybe one event worth mentioning would be my ascension to the higher rungs of the gaming world with the purchase of a Gefore 5200 fx Agp card and an overclockable ASUS p4ge-mx to boot .

Well I can understand a lot of readers' faces going suddenly into grimaces with the usage of computer digits . Jargon it indeed is , a lot of it to me too . So what do I write about this time .

Well yesterday I was at the traffic stop at pattom and beside me was parked an autorickshaw full of some southeast asian tourists . What was amusing both me and the tourists was the auto driver's continous blabber in 'manglish' about tourists and his apparent grasp of current affairs . Well I could not understand what he was trying to convey to the confused yet amused tourists , but I think I heard a few words being exchanged about Daewoo motors and its managing director being fired of something . But anyway the tourists had no idea about what he was talking about , and neither did I . And he went on to elaborate to the them that he knew all this from newspapers and the news . Well the point being , the common people of our state would be the most well read and the most up to date in the current affairs of the world .

Politics , terrorists , business , whatever be the topic kerala commonners seem to know it all . Well that oughta be ironical to someone . With majority of americans reading only the sports page and highest viewership for maybe hbo and espn , in the "Centre of the One World" , the Usa and here the local ammavans memorising the precise words that come out of Kofi Annan's mouth . It is infact not surprising of keralites . How can we expect less from the people who have one of the most versatile and modern languages in the world . We have one of the most varied , colourful and amazing arts . Maybe other cultures could boast of , maybe two arts which are truly amazing . But kerala is different : kadhakali, kalaripayattu , ottamthullal , and a lot of other things i have never even heard about earlier . Well maybe we are a special breed . Who knows who's gonna be here in 5 years among those who might read this . Think about what you are leaving behind . Think about what would remain when you come back to this world . Make your memories now , treasure them ....