Tuesday, 27 December 2011

I am a Guerrilla!!

They operate secretly, hide behind bushes and in ruins and end up in sewage tanks and underground drains walking over the shit of others and even smearing some of it on their faces (read: art of deception) and most importantly take on mightier oppositions. Very good!! Full marks to you for guessing (claps). Yes, I am talking about guerrilla warriors. I know ages of cinema has clarified your definition of a guerrilla. But have you ever heard about a guerrilla blogger? No? Then here’s a very, very confidential document that I am going to leak out right here, right now. If you are reading this consider yourself lucky ‘cause not many would lay their hands (rather eyes) over this, trust me. Delighted? Excited already? Okay, now calm down a bit and concentrate. Here’s something that would require some wrestling with your grey cells. Great secrets don’t reveal themselves that easily.


Mode of operation: SECRECY!! That’s all it’s all about. You know that you know a potential guerrilla blogger the moment you realise you never knew about him/her. There is a slim chance you have ever heard an explosion (read: a blog-post) that they carried out with tireless efforts and dedication. And if you ever did, maybe it was you needed to refill your ammo (ideas you know) or it was just a mere case of straying into unknown territory (the guerrilla blogs of course)

N.B: The ‘you’ in the above point doesn’t refer to the civilians (non-bloggers).

Methods of offence: Now this is the part that is really going to help you to catch sight the elusive Guerrilla Blogger. Come on, concentrate a little more. I know it’s too much technical but can’t help you see.

1) They will carry out bold offensives. Now no one gets bowled over by these bold missions. But they simply carry out such missions (write posts that is, dumbo) that civilians don’t dare to, in a planned, clinical manner.

2) They will jump in to counter-fire (reply to comments) almost immediately. They just can’t afford to wait for further enemy movements which is too minimal in their case. Civilians must be secured first and if they can make one or two civilians to reach safe-zones (click “follow” or “Like”) then its party-time for a guerrilla blogger.

3) Once in a while, they will creep into high-sensitivity zones (those popular blogs) and shoot an well-directed bullet (comment).They are in constant look-out for those zones and keep track of their activity ( for tracking they use the much-effective Follow gadget)

Who they are up against: The Big Daddies and Mommas of Blogistan.

What do they fight for: Mainly, they fight to protect the territories called Interest and Talent. But it’s often a much vulnerable territory called Self-pride that gets attacked.

Arms ‘n’ ammunition: Self-mutating ‘Idea’ rifles, ‘Hope’ Bombs and ‘Spirit’ amours.

Accessories: Internet connection, computer

Costume: Doesn’t matter. They keep changing their appearance (templates, layout, and widgets) in the name of improvisation.

Great!! You have done well to finish the entire manual without being subjected to any poison-gas attack or a long-distance sniper shot(claps again). So you might be thinking how I know these Top Secret details and why am I giving it out. Well, well, I am very much like SRK in Don2 when he hands over that CD to the cops. Oh yes! You are right again (Now seriously, you owe me a treat on that).

I am a Guerrilla Blogger!!! (Background music plays as I take off the mask….dhan taa naaan).

Have you come across one of them? Or are you one yourself?

Monday, 19 December 2011

A smile from the past - II

Read part I here: A smile from the past

Sneha reached the designated location at around 5:15 and on her way had already cooked up an excuse for being that bit late in case Madhav questioned her. She had been to that particular Cafe Coffee Day joint in City Center, Salt Lake quite a few times with her colleagues in the past three months and knew quite well that it wasn’t the ideal kind of location for a date, which the proposed meeting seemed to be. She had decided on a much casual look and was dressed up in a full-sleeved purple T shirt and a pair of blue jeans. As she was taking the steps towards the restaurant, she tried hard to remember any Madhav Ranjan she had met in the past. There was none.

Madhav Ranjan was seated in the open area of the Cafe Coffee Day joint well before 5 pm. Over the years he had learnt the value of being on time, in fact before time if possible and had thus made it into a habit. Madhav was pointing out something on his phone to his assistant James when he saw a young lady approaching the table with a puzzled look.

“Hello. You must be Sneha”, James said as both the men stood up and smiled at her.

“Ah yes. But Madhav…”, Sneha responded.

“I am James, Mr.Madhav’s personal assistant. Here’s my boss”,

Sneha looked at the other man. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and his face looked strikingly familiar but she couldn’t remember having met him before at all. “So there’s going to be a third person carrying out the conversation? Great!”, Sneha thought and had almost pronounced the last word aloud when Madhav extended his hand. They shook hands and Madhav signalled James to leave.Sneha saw that before leaving James took out a stack of small paper chits and put it down on the table along with a pen. “Oh so that’s how it’s going to be. Pretty cool”, Sneha thought,  quite pleasantly amused at the idea.

Madhav moved forward, pulled a chair and gestured Sneha to take a seat. “So Mr. Madhav Ranjan, what’s your story?”, Sneha started with the one single question that was hovering her mind for the last six hours. Madhav smiled and pulled out a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket and gave it to her. Sneha opened it and started reading.

“Hello Sneha,
I know this entire thing must be appearing quite strange to you and I am really sorry for causing you any sort of discomfort…”

Sneha stopped and looked up at Madhav. She could see a faint touch of nervousness on the man’s face and said, “No no, it’s fine. In fact the uniqueness of the occasion has really got me in. Besides, I hope you understand the little bit uneasiness regarding the way the meeting was set up. And yes, you really look familiar. I hope this note of yours explains that part”

Madhav gave a wide grin and nodded. Sneha smiled back and once again started reading the note.

 “….But trust me, you can’t imagine how happy I am to once again see the person who had left such a deep impression on my life…”

“Deep impression? Me?”, Sneha said to Madhav in much amazement. Madhav gave a brief nod and gestured her to keep reading.Meanwhile, two cups of Cappuccino were ordered.

“… I know you can’t make sense of what I said just now. Let me help you out Sneha. Let me take you 5 years back in Delhi. It was a hot summer morning and we were in the same taxi headed towards Cannaught Place. You got down near Karol Bagh but not before helping me out to make a life-changing decision. I could speak back then and was working on my laptop. Remember anything?”

That was all he had written in the note but was enough to give Sneha’s memory the required jolt. She could see the day clearly in her mind. A man dressed in formals was frantically typing something on his laptop and received calls in between. He looked very much nervous and was sweating profusely. She had enquired the man if everything was okay. He looked at her for a while and then turned his laptop to make the screen face her. “Just look at this. I have designed this web-site for a company. It was all ready two days back when the idea for a new feature dawned on me”, the man seemed desperate as he moved his finger over the screen and clicked on links in between. “See this tab here. If you click on it an entire new window opens up that gives a virtual tour of the company’s achievements with an animated mascot guiding the viewers”, the man showed Sneha how it worked and kept on clicking on tabs and links.

“It looks good. But why do you look so bothered?”, Sneha had asked the man back then.

“Bothered? I am scared!! I have worked on this project for months. But now I fear they might not approve it. I briefed them about the new feature over the phone. But it seems like they prefer the conventional ways. I know this design is unique and really want this to be on the site. I am undecided whether to keep it and present it to them or change the codes again right now”.

Sneha had replied, “Okay. See, I don’t know much about these technical stuffs. But if you really believe in your idea then keep faith in yourself. Go ahead with this design. Take a chance”. The man kept staring blankly at her for some time and then went back to working. While she was getting off, the man wrote his name and number on a piece of paper and gave it to her asking her to call her if she knew of any web-development work. Sneha remembered telling him that she had left her cell-phone at home.

Now five years later, that very man was sitting right before her but no longer able to speak. “Yeah, I do remember it now. So how did you end up losing your voice? And how was that incident so remarkable for you?”, Sneha still had questions to be answered. She saw that Madhav was already writing on one of those chits. He handed over the chit to her in a while. It read:

“Take a chance- those words of yours gave me the much needed impetus. I presented that very design you saw in the car and it was accepted well by the board members. They not only approved the design and paid me handsomely but in fact signed me on for maintenance and support of their site….”

Sneha looked up at Madhav , gave a warm smile and continued reading.

“…One year later, my life took a disastrous turn. I met with an accident while getting down from the train and ended up hurting my throat badly. I lost my voice. As I had to make a lot of presentations in my job I couldn’t keep up with it and had to leave. I felt depressed. I thought about starting my own small venture with the money I got from the medical insurance but couldn’t gather the courage to do so. Once again, your words inspired me. I took a chance and started my web-development firm in Mumbai and in four years it has grown into a renowned company. Now you know how you changed my life. And I have waited all these years just to say thanks to you“

Sneha had a wide grin on her face when she finished reading the note. “Wow, that’s such a surprise. I don’t know what to say. By the way, how did you get my number?”

 Madhav handed her another note.

“Suddenly one day, I saw your face on one of the Facebook friend suggestions. We had a mutual friend, Anjali Thakur. I wrote to her about this entire thing and asked for your number. I got to know that you are in Kolkata at present and so when I had to come here for work I made up my mind to meet you up“

“Well, well so that’s what this is all about”, Sneha sighed, “I am really glad that you found me. It feels great to know how the small things that we do in our day-to-day life might end up leaving an impression on someone’s life. Amazing indeed”.

Over the next few minutes, Madhav and Sneha shared their life's experiences with each other through notes, hand gestures and a lot of pleasant expressions. Sneha talked and Madhav listened. He passed on notes and she read them.

Sneha left for home at around 8 pm. Madhav had a flight back to Mumbai in an hour. While parting, they exchanged a promise to remain in touch in the future. “I have saved your number now Madhav. So no guessing games next time.” Sneha said to Madhav and they both broke into a laughter. Little did they know that in those moments they were writing the prologue of a lifelong story,the seeds of which were planted in destiny's womb, five years back.

When Sneha reached her flat, she immediately ran towards her cupboard. “The number”, Sneha remembered “I did keep all those visiting cards and all in my diary those days” She found the old diary and looked for the piece of paper Madhav had given her. She found it in between the pages. Sneha checked the number. It had been the same all those years.

Just then her eyes fell on a small cardboard box. The box contained pastel colours. Sneha noticed that the bottle containing brown colour had turned over and somehow the colour had leaked, leaving brown-coloured marks on few of the cloths kept near the box. The colour-box was a gift that her closest friend Sunaina had given her on the last day of school as Sneha was quite a painter back then and it had the following words written over it, quite ironically:

For my best friend Sneha, the most careless girl I have ever known”.

Sneha smiled instead of freaking out at this revelation. It was the same smile that was with her ever since she bade Madhav goodbye. The smile now had an added pleasure of another past remembrance and at the same time, the embarrassment of realising her fault in shouting at the dhobi in the morning.

Sneha knew that her smile would last for quite some time now. It was a smile that had flown in from the past and settled on her lips.

Saturday, 17 December 2011

A smile from the past

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It was just another Sunday morning for Sneha. The last one week had given her no respite from work stress and incessant rains just didn’t help her moods. Yes, Sneha didn’t like the rains. Neither did she like being drenched, messing up her frizzy hair nor did she ever find anything romantic about the first showers of monsoon. But the sun god had really made it sure that it was his very day. It was a bright Sunday morning and Sneha was enjoying her cup of coffee standing by her bedroom window when her cell phone beeped.

HIi Sneha. How are you??” ,read the SMS.

The sender was unknown. Could it be any of her colleagues? Well, she almost had all of their numbers. So could it be a male admirer?  Even though her striking persona hidden under layers of casual flair turned a few heads on the street, yet she couldn’t remember anyone with whom she had interacted enough to give out her name and number of late.

I am fine. Who’s this?”, Sneha replied back to that unknown sender.

She waited for a few minutes but there was no response from the other end. Just then the doorbell rang.”The dhobi”, she thought and ran to open the door. She left the phone on her bed.

The next few moments, Sneha was busy arguing with the middle-aged dhobi over a certain white shirt. “What did you do to this? There wasn’t this stain when I gave it to you”, she shrieked pointing at the little brown spot at the bottom end of the white cotton shirt.

Memsaab, trust me, it was there when you gave it for washing. I tried hard but the stain is so stubborn. Won’t go”, the poor man tried hard to convince her.

“Oh please, now you don’t tell me it was I who did this to my favorite white shirt. You people are useless. Can’t do a single thing with sincerity. Go. I will wash it myself”

“Okay memsaab. Thirty rupees it is”, said the dhobi in quite an unperturbed manner, probably used to seeing his customers flying into a feat of rage for reasons they are themselves responsible for. He belongs to that class of the society which has no apparent right to question but to bear the burden of others’ faults along with the one big fault of their own-being poor.

Sneha paid him the money and closed the door. She kept the stack of neatly ironed clothes on the table in the living room and tossed the white shirt on top of the washing machine. “I will wash it in the afternoon”, she thought and moved towards her bedroom.

Sneha looked outside through her bedroom window." The city appears much quieter today",she felt. It had been almost 3 months since Sneha moved to Kolkata and had bought a flat there. Her career graph had seen a steep progress over the past two years and there was not much that she could complain about. She had followed her dream of working in the advertising world and her chosen path had pampered her with well-deserved returns. She stayed all by herself but was too busy to ever feel lonely. Since college, Sneha never had a boyfriend though she went on those one-off dates but nothing ever materialized into anything serious.  

Sneha checked her phone. There was a message from that unknown number again.

Well, I know it’s a bit awkward. But I have to talk to you. I am Madhav. You will surely recognize me if you see me. Can we meet?

WHAT? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t doubt your intentions”  -Sneha replied back to that stranger, who now she knew from the name, was a MAN, the treacherous, lustful and much dreaded species.

There was no reply from the other end for quite a while and then Sneha’s phone beeped again.

See, it’s no use giving you a call as I can’t speak because of a medical condition. But it’s really important to meet you. I will be waiting for you at CCD, City Center, Salt Lake at 5pm today. Take a chance

The last three words rang a bell in Sneha’s head. “So the guy is dumb? Still he wants to meet me? Well, he says that I know him too. At least for curiosity’s sake, if not for anything else, should I take a chance?”, Sneha’s mind was full of such thoughts and her gaze fixed on her mobile’s screen. Ruining a much awaited Sunday by meeting a total jerk was the last thing she wanted.

Her hesitant thumb moved on the QWERTY keypad of her phone as she typed the two letters-


Great. Ask for Madhav Ranjan at the counter”- was the immediate reply.

Sneha looked at the time display on her phone. It showed 11:25 AM


Tuesday, 13 December 2011

A passing glance

I was on my way to the market and after getting off from the auto was taking a walk towards the shops that I was supposed to visit in order to buy the required stuffs. As usual, the streets were flocked by people of all ages. From a distance I could see a young girl who appeared to be of my age coming from the opposite direction. I won’t claim her to be extremely pretty or something out of this world but would say she was decent enough for an average guy like me to take notice. (And yeah, we guys do take notice of every random girl that comes our way). She walked passed by me and our eyes met for a while. A fraction of a second it was and then she looked down which is the norm in these parts of the world. I kept walking and never looked back and neither did she for sure.

Now, any young man, generally and preferably single and not accompanied by a girlfriend or wife (who would be otherwise threatening to burst his eyeballs for staring at another woman) can identify with this situation and it’s not like what I described above happened for just once. Really I can’t keep count of the number of times there has been these fraction-of-a-second eye contacts. As a matter of fact, I don’t believe in love at first sight. That’s one of the crappiest things to have been ever coined by the romantics. It’s plain uncomplicated attraction that can happen at the first sight with a possibility of leading to love or a relationship in the future. And for that to happen, the girl has to be a friend of your friend, a colleague or simply an acquaintance with whom there are possibilities of future interactions (read: second, third, fourth…..and nth ‘sights’)

But what about these kind of situations as mentioned in the beginning? What about the ones that you meet at the bus stops, ticket counters, bank queues or shopping malls? Now you can’t really stop someone who is just passing by you saying “Hey listen, I just got dazzled by your enchanting looks and would you mind letting me decide over a cup of coffee if its love or just mere attraction?”. Okay, this might work and is quite a pick-up line considering it would really take some courage for someone to do such an act and with girls having their notions of shining armor clad princes, it might just hit the right note. But then there is every chance that you might get labeled as a stalker (the paranoid ones might even immediately move their hands into the purse to draw out those pepper sprays or an umbrella, the quintessential Weapon of Male Destruction) when actually you never knew if she existed until that very moment, leave alone stalking!

But do girls really like being approached in that manner? I guess in 90% of the cases they would get uncomfortable if not scared, being approached by a total stranger, no matter how modulated is your voice or even if you are the poor man’s Tom Cruise. If not verbal, her immediate facial expressions would just mean two words -“Get lost!!”. Though you might stumble upon the rare kind who would jump around with joy at being approached like that and might even end up treating you with all bills paid. But generally, those are not the ones you fall for. Just to get to the other side of the perception,. I even once went to the extent of asking a female friend of mine about what I should do in such a situation. She blatantly replied, “Nothing! Just move ahead and carry on with whatever you are doing”. Her reply further confirmed my notions.

So, I continue to see those beautiful creatures on the road, stare at their assets for a mili-second or so with a faint hope of being stared back (which they actually do in the most discreet manner and a guy would never notice her doing that) and then just walk ahead. Our male kind has been already in the news over the years for all the wrong reasons and with the ever-growing number of feminists all the time raring to go at our throats, I would rather prefer to ‘be a nice guy and not get the girl’. But then, that would be a loss on the other side of the table too!!

Wednesday, 7 December 2011

Please don't delete my blog Kapil Ji

Now that Kapil Sabil Ji (yes, can’t miss that Ji lest he gets offended) wants to regulate all the traffic on the social media following some ‘objectionable’ updates about Manmohan Ji and Sonia Ji and other G’s (2G and CWG included). So , in case Sibal Ji really has his way with this and as he demands that content should be monitored manually and screened even before they are published, let’s have a look how the scenario might turn out to be.

Fabio has been assigned to review consent on Facebook and Tutu on Twitter of a particular number of users. There is also one Gugu for Google+ in the same room with them. As per requirements, all of these Content Monitors have great cyber crime records to their names and hence no one can recognize 'objectionable' content  better than these guys. Read along…

Fabio: Hi Tutu. Wassup man? You look lost!

Tutu: (just breaking a yawn half-way) Fabio yaar. I just hate waking up so early. If it were not a Govt job I wouldn’t have given a damn. But you know how my girlfriend’s parents are vying for one sarkari naukri wala.

Fabio: Ahh another of those stories…let's get to work dude. Morning shift starts at 5:30. Its already 5:45. We will be screwed if someone posts an OC!!

Tutu: OC meant Officers’ Choice to me a few days back.Now its Objectionable Content. Sigh….Okay!!

(both log in to their softwares specially designed to view posts coming in from the set of users they are assigned to, Fabio on Facebook and Tutu on Twitter. Meanwhile Gugu enters and sits at his desk)

Gugu: Hii guys, busy already? Huh.  I have a perfect Govt. job you see. Get paid for just sitting at a desk.

Tutu:Oh yeah,you keep forgetting that’s why you get paid less

Gugu: Who cares! (Logs in and after a few moments of clicking he plugs in his I-pod's earphones and dozes off)

Fabio: Ohh shit!! I told you. While you were lamenting this guy from Delhi posted a pic. Looks like its Doctor saab dancing with Madam Ji. You think it’s allowed?

Tutu: Hell No, look at their clothes. Doctor saab has a six pack and Madam Ji is dressed in a scorching red gown with a leg-slit. High risk content. Remove it now!!

Fabio: Done already. Phew!! Wonder if someday we might have a PM who really has a six pack.

Tutu:(chuckles) Guess Arnold Schwarzenegger had one when  he became the Governor of California. Hey look at this.This girl just shared a pic showing Baba Ramdev proposing Rakhi Sawant !!

Fabio: Don’t dare touch it. We have special instructions from Digvijay Sir to in fact to promote such content. It’s a Promotable Content

Tutu: One more PC after Personal Computers, Priyanka Chopra and P Chid…

Gugu breaks out into a thunderous laughter suddenly, prompting Fabio and Tutu to jump in their seats

Fabio: You scared us man!!

Gugu: Dude, dude….you can’t miss this joke that my girlfriend SMSed me just now. A one word joke! Can you believe it?!!

Tutu: What is it?

Gugu: Ha ha…she says ‘busy?” Ha ha Ha ha Ho Ho (He clutches his tummy and goes around the room stamping his feet as if it were the joke of the century)

Fabio: Frustrated guy!! Let’s get back to work Tutu

Tutu: Yeah Yeah

(Gugu gives a disgusted look at his two colleagues,scratches his beard and  settles back in his seat, putting in the earphones once again)

Fabio: Getting lots of posts in support of Anna’s movement. Too many of them!

Tutu: Run a search with the name Anna Hazare and delete them all. The bosses are already furious over his support for slaps and comments drawing claps.

Fabio: That one did rhyme well (grins)

Meanwhile, Gugu got busy for a while when he saw a post saying “The govt. can’t curb the freedom of social media”. He waited to see if it got any comments and then deleted it and went back to playing air-guitar

Tutu: Damn, now what about these celebrities? How can I delete the tweet of an Amitabh Bachchan ??

Fabio: Dude, Twitter guy can’t avoid celebrity shit !! Just check for their past record with the bosses. If they are in the latter’s good books then call up the bosses for guidance or else delete the post and in place of it display the message ‘Awaiting approval”. Neither the celebrities nor the bosses would get offended in that way

Tutu: Great! Seems like you have read the rule-book quite well (grins)

Fabio: Of course, finally I have a job other than checking out the profiles of girls.So, got to be this bit sincere man.

Just then Tutu receives an SMS from his friend Bogo who is reviewing a chunk of the blogs on Blogger. It read::

       “We are screwed here man. These bloggers are posting frantically and that too long ones. Till I start guessing if its an OC, 10 other such posts come up. The Wordpress guy has already gone to visit an eye specialist and mine are red as tomatoes”

Tutu forwards the SMS to Fabio and Gugu and they all share blank looks at each other... 

Image courtesy:Satish Acharya

I am scared....really scared as I type this post though I have tried to be as much respectful to the great leaders as possible. May be I won't be able to see my dear blog the very next day as it might be pulled up for Objectionable Content and deleted!!

Do we really need this? 

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Sunday, 4 December 2011

God in your pockets

There was this man called Ramakant who managed his livelihood by begging at the temple gates. He was in his middle age and though he was a carpenter in his younger days, he could not do well in his business as most of his time was spent in attending religious festivals. His wife died of severe jaundice while he was singing paeans to God at the temple. He didn’t have the money to buy medicines for her nor did he make any serious attempt to collect the required amount. Instead, he kept on praying and wishing his wife would get cured by God’s blessings.

Whatever money he could get after selling his house and belongings, he spent all of that in his wife’s funeral and feeding the priests. He was grief-stricken at his wife’s demise but all he believed was that he could do nothing about it as it was God’s will. He decided o spend the rest of his life in God’s service and beg for a living. Money was always an evil for him…..something which diverts one from the path of holiness.

Well, not everyone is a Ramakant. There are people who believe in God, pray regularly and yet earn handsomely. For its money that pulls one out of bad times. Money is not only the source of well-being and health but the means to make things happen. Prayers alone won’t suffice. Hence, it won’t be too wrong to say that if God is present among us, then this existence is in the form of money.

It’s not about being an atheist or a firm believer of God and religion. It’s about being well aware of the fact that money is not something one can do without. We are long done with the barter system and everything today comes for a price. Yes, even holiness comes for a price. You won’t find a single god-man today who isn’t living a life of reasonable comfort and hasn’t amassed a sizeable amount of unaccounted wealth. No doubt, the money might have been channelized through donations and could be very well used for the benefit of the devotees. Yet, you can’t deny that if money were of no importance there wouldn’t have been donations in the first place. None of these so-called holy men and their trusts/organisations could have moved a pebble without substantial monetary help. Baba Ramdev’s sprawling  Patanjali Yogpeeth ashram and Sathya Sai Baba’s gold treasure, discovered after his death, speak volumes about how even God’s tasks need money to be carried out.You can't be holy with a hole in your pocket!!

Regarding money being the root cause of all evils, didn’t we fight wars simply on the basis of religions in the past?? And it’s mostly the ones not having a single penny to buy food who tread onto the path of crime. If abundance of wealth can lead to abuse, absence of it is of no use at all.

So I would rather toil hard and acquire sufficient money to fulfil my needs and also save for the future rather than sitting in a corner, blaming God for not being fair or even be ‘pious’ enough to marvel at his wonderful design that left me all screwed up.

If work is considered to be worship, then the God you please through this worship is MONEY…..the God in your pockets!!

Friday, 2 December 2011

30 Days!!

Yup,that's the age of my blog. Pro Pulse has completed a month  and you must be so much in love with my blog (wishful thinking) if you are reading this post right now as its nothing but a report of sorts of the first month of blogging.I just felt my blog deserved a post on completion of one month and so here I am with some blabber.

The experience of being into serious blogging has been outstanding. In the past 30 days, I have written 12 posts, two of which featured in's Spicy Saturday picks and having 900 page views as of now (without tracking my own views). I also attended a blog party at Andy David's blog which was a novel and exciting experience (a beautiful poem, Essence of love created out of contributions from 27 different bloggers from all across the globe, including me).Made some new blogger friends too thereby.

The response? Well, I would say it's very difficult to make the larger chunk of my friends who are not bloggers, .read my posts and especially to COMMENT.. But still, I have managed to grab a few eyeballs (some rolling ones too) and a nice share of generous appreciation.

Don't know for sure if I can continue writing so frequently a month from now, when I join my job. But yes, will definitely make a sincere effort to sneak in a few posts at regular intervals..
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