Hello There Nice Person
Did Anyone Ever Tell You,
Just How Special You Are
The Light that You Emit
Might even Light a Star
Did Anyone Ever Tell You
How Important You Make Others Feel
Somebody out here is Smiling
About Love that is so Real
Did Anyone Ever Tell You that
Many Times When They were Sad
Your E-mail made Them Smile a bit
In Fact It made Them Glad
For the Time You Spend Sending Things
And Sharing whatever You Find
There are No Words to Thank You
But Somebody, Thinks You're Fine
Did Anyone Ever Tell You
Just How Much They Like You
Well, My Dearest Friend
Today I am Telling You
I'm glad we are friends!!!
November 26, 2005
Why Women Cry
A little boy asked his mother, "Why are you crying?"
"Because I'm a woman," she told him.
"I don't understand," he said.
His Mom just hugged him and said, "And you never will."
Later the little boy asked his father, "Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?" "All women cry for no reason," was all his dad could say.
The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry.
Finally he put in a call to God.
When God got on the phone, he asked, "God, why do women cry so easily?"
God said:"When I made the woman she had to be special. I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world, yet gentle enough to give comfort.
I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from her children.
I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up, and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue without complaining.
I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt her very badly.
I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.
I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside ! him unfalteringly.
And finally, I gave her a tear to shed. This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed."
"You see my son," said God, "the beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart - the place where love resides."
"Because I'm a woman," she told him.
"I don't understand," he said.
His Mom just hugged him and said, "And you never will."
Later the little boy asked his father, "Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?" "All women cry for no reason," was all his dad could say.
The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry.
Finally he put in a call to God.
When God got on the phone, he asked, "God, why do women cry so easily?"
God said:"When I made the woman she had to be special. I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world, yet gentle enough to give comfort.
I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from her children.
I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up, and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue without complaining.
I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt her very badly.
I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.
I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside ! him unfalteringly.
And finally, I gave her a tear to shed. This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed."
"You see my son," said God, "the beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart - the place where love resides."
November 22, 2005
A friend of mine forwarded this to me....
Its a speech given by the President of India at Hyderabad's Police training academy...
I think every Indian should read this....
"I have three visions for India. In 3000 Years of our history, people from all over the world have come and invaded us, captured our lands, conquered our minds.
From Alexander onwards. The Greeks, the Turks, the Moguls, the Portuguese, the British, the French, the Dutch, all of them came and looted us, took over what was ours.
Yet we have not done this to any other nation.
We have not conquered anyone. We have not grabbed their land, their culture, and their history and tried to enforce our way of life on them.
Why? Because we respect the freedom of others.
That is why my first vision is that of FREEDOM. I believe that India got its first vision of this in 1857, when we started the war of independence.
It is this freedom that we must protect and nurture and build on.
If we are not free, no one will respect us.
My second vision for India is DEVELOPMENT. For fifty years we have been a developing nation. It is time we see ourselves as a developed nation.
We are among top 5 nations of the world in terms of GDP. We have 10 percent growth rate in most areas. Our poverty levels are falling. Our achievements are being globally recognized today.
Yet we lack the self-confidence to see ourselves as a developed nation,
self- reliant and self-assured. Isn't this incorrect?
I have a third vision. India must stand up to the world. Because I believe that, unless India stands up to the world, no one will respect us.
Only STRENGTH respects strength.
We must be strong not only as a military power but also as an economic power.
Both must go hand-in-hand. My good fortune was to have worked with three great minds. Dr. Vikram Sarabhai of the Dept of space, Professor Satish Dhawan,
who succeeded him and Dr Brahm Prakash, father of nuclear material.
I was lucky to have worked with all three of them closely and consider this the great opportunity of my life.
I see four milestones in my career: Twenty years I spent in ISRO. I was given the opportunity to be the project director for India's first satellite launch vehicle, SLV3. The one that launched Rohini. These years played a very important role in my life of Scientist.
After my ISRO years, I joined DRDO and got a chance to be the part of India's guided missile program. It was my second bliss when Agni met its mission requirements in 1994. The Dept of Atomic Energy and DRDO had this tremendous partnership in the recent nuclear tests, on May 11 and 13.
This was the third bliss.
The joy of participating with my team in these nuclear tests and proving to the world that India can make it, that we are no longer a developing nation but one of them. It made me feel very proud as an Indian. The fact that We have now developed for Agni a re-entry structure, for which we have developed this new material. A very light material called carbon-carbon.
One day an orthopedic surgeon from Nizam Institute of Medical Sciences visited my laboratory. He lifted the material and found it so light that he took me to his hospital and showed me his patients. There were these Little girls and boys with heavy metallic calipers weighing over three Kg.
each, dragging their feet around.
He said to me: Please remove the pain of my patients.
In three weeks, we made these Floor reaction Orthosis 300-gram calipers and took them to the orthopedic center. The children didn't believe their eyes. From dragging around a three kg. load on their legs, they could Now move around. Their parents had tears in their eyes.
That was my fourth bliss!
Why is the media here so negative?
Why are we in India so embarrassed to recognize our own strengths, our achievements? We are such a great nation. We have so many amazing success stories but we refuse to acknowledge them.
Why?
We are the first in milk production.
We are number one in Remote sensing satellites.
We are the second largest producer of wheat.
We are the second largest producer of rice.
Look at Dr Sudarshan, he has transferred the tribal village into a
self-sustaining, self-driving unit.
There are millions of such achievements but our media is only obsessed in the bad news and failures and disasters.
I was in Tel Aviv once and I was reading the Israeli newspaper. It was the day after a lot of attacks and bombardments and deaths had taken place.
The Hamas had struck. But the front page of the newspaper had the picture of a Jewish gentleman who in five years had transformed his desert into an orchid and a granary.
It was this inspiring picture that everyone woke up to. The gory details of killings, bombardments, deaths, were inside in the newspaper, buried among other news.
In India we only read about death, sickness, terrorism, crime. Why are we so NEGATIVE?
Another question: Why are we, as a nation so obsessed with foreign things?
We want foreign TVs, we want foreign shirts. We want foreign technology.
Why this obsession with everything imported. Do we not realize that self-respect comes with self-reliance?
I was in Hyderabad giving this lecture, when a 14 year old girl asked me for my autograph. I asked her what her goal in life is. She replied:
I want to live in a developed India.
For her, you and I will have to build this developed India You must proclaim.
India is not an under-developed nation; it is a highly developed nation.
Do you have 10 minutes? Allow me to come back with a vengeance.
Got 10 minutes for your country? If yes, then read; otherwise, choice is yours.
YOU say that our government is inefficient.
YOU say that our laws are too old.
YOU say that the municipality does not pick up the garbage.
YOU say that the phones don't work, the railways are a joke, The airline is the worst in the world, mails never reach their destination.
YOU say that our country has been fed to the dogs and is the absolute pits.
YOU say, say and say. What do YOU do about it?
Take a person on his way to Singapore. Give him a name-YOURS.
Give him a face - YOURS.
YOU walk out of the airport and you are at your International best.
In Singapore you don't throw cigarette butts on the roads or eat in the stores.
YOU are as proud of their Underground links as they are. You pay $5 (approx Rs 60) to drive through Orchard Road (equivalent of Mahim Causeway or Pedder Road) between 5 PM and 8 PM.
YOU come back to the parking lot to punch your parking ticket if you have over stayed in a restaurant or a shopping mall irrespective of your status identity.
In Singapore you don't say anything, DO YOU?
YOU wouldn't dare to eat in public during Ramadan, in Dubai.
YOU would not dare to go out without your head covered in Jeddah.
YOU would not dare to buy an employee of the telephone exchange in
London at 10 pounds (Rs 650) a month to, "see to it that my STD and ISD
calls are billed to someone else."
YOU would not dare to speed beyond 55 mph (88 km/h) in Washington and
then tell the traffic cop, "Jaanta hai main kaun hoon (Do you know who I
am?). I am so and so's son. Take your two bucks and get lost."
YOU wouldn't chuck an empty coconut shell anywhere other than the
garbage pail on the beaches in Australia and New Zealand.
Why don't YOU spit Paan on the streets of Tokyo?
Why don't YOU use examination jockeys or buy fake certificates in Boston???
We are still talking of the same YOU.
YOU who can respect and conform to a foreign system in other countries
but cannot in your own. You who will throw papers and cigarettes on the
road the moment you touch Indian ground. If you can be an involved and
appreciative citizen in an alien country, why cannot you be the same
here in India?
Once in an interview, the famous Ex-municipal commissioner of Bombay,
Mr. Tinaikar, had a point to make. "Rich people's dogs are walked on the
streets to leave their affluent droppings all over the place," he said.
"And then the same people turn around to criticize and blame the
authorities for inefficiency and dirty pavements. What do they expect
the officers to do? Go down with a broom every time their dog feels the
pressure in his bowels? In America every dog owner has to clean up
after his pet has done the job. Same in Japan.
Will the Indian citizen do that here?" He's right.
We go to the polls to choose a government and after that forfeit all
responsibility. We sit back wanting to be pampered and expect the
government to do everything for us whilst our contribution is totally
negative.
We expect the government to clean up but we are not going to stop chucking
garbage all over the place nor are we going to stop to pick a up a stray
piece of paper and throw it in the bin. We expect the railways to provide
clean bathrooms but we are not going to learn the proper use of bathrooms.
We want Indian Airlines and Air India to provide the best of food and
toiletries but we are not going to stop pilfering at the least opportunity.
This applies even to the staff who is known not to pass on the service
to the public.
When it comes to burning social issues like those related to women, dowry,
girl child! and others, we make loud drawing room protestations and
continue to do the reverse at home. Our excuse? "It's the whole system
which has to change, how will it matter if I alone forego my sons'
rights
to a dowry." So who's going to change the system? What does a system
consist of? Very conveniently for us it consists of our neighbours, other
households, other cities, other communities and the government. But
definitely not me and YOU. When it comes to us actually making a positive
contribution to the system we lock ourselves along with our families into a
safe cocoon and look into the distance at countries far away and wait for a
Mr Clean to come along & work miracles for us with a majestic sweep of
his hand or we leave the country and run away. Like lazy cowards hounded
by our fears we run to America to bask in their glory and praise their
system.
When New York becomes insecure we run to England. When England experiences
unemployment, we take the next flight out to the Gulf. When the Gulf is war
struck, we demand to be rescued and brought home by the Indian government.
Everybody is out to abuse and rape the country. Nobody thinks of
feeding the system. Our conscience is mortgaged to money.
Dear Indians, The article is highly thought inductive, calls for a great
deal of introspection and pricks one's conscience too.... I am echoing
J F Kennedy's words to his fellow Americans to relate to Indians????
"ASK WHAT WE CAN DO FOR INDIA AND DO WHAT HAS TO BE DONE
TO MAKE INDIA WHAT AMERICA AND OTHER WESTERN COUNTRIES ARE TODAY"
Lets do what India needs from us.
Forward this mail to each Indian for a change instead of sending Jokes or junk mails.
Thank you,
Dr Abdul Kalaam
(PRESIDENT OF INDIA)
Its a speech given by the President of India at Hyderabad's Police training academy...
I think every Indian should read this....
"I have three visions for India. In 3000 Years of our history, people from all over the world have come and invaded us, captured our lands, conquered our minds.
From Alexander onwards. The Greeks, the Turks, the Moguls, the Portuguese, the British, the French, the Dutch, all of them came and looted us, took over what was ours.
Yet we have not done this to any other nation.
We have not conquered anyone. We have not grabbed their land, their culture, and their history and tried to enforce our way of life on them.
Why? Because we respect the freedom of others.
That is why my first vision is that of FREEDOM. I believe that India got its first vision of this in 1857, when we started the war of independence.
It is this freedom that we must protect and nurture and build on.
If we are not free, no one will respect us.
My second vision for India is DEVELOPMENT. For fifty years we have been a developing nation. It is time we see ourselves as a developed nation.
We are among top 5 nations of the world in terms of GDP. We have 10 percent growth rate in most areas. Our poverty levels are falling. Our achievements are being globally recognized today.
Yet we lack the self-confidence to see ourselves as a developed nation,
self- reliant and self-assured. Isn't this incorrect?
I have a third vision. India must stand up to the world. Because I believe that, unless India stands up to the world, no one will respect us.
Only STRENGTH respects strength.
We must be strong not only as a military power but also as an economic power.
Both must go hand-in-hand. My good fortune was to have worked with three great minds. Dr. Vikram Sarabhai of the Dept of space, Professor Satish Dhawan,
who succeeded him and Dr Brahm Prakash, father of nuclear material.
I was lucky to have worked with all three of them closely and consider this the great opportunity of my life.
I see four milestones in my career: Twenty years I spent in ISRO. I was given the opportunity to be the project director for India's first satellite launch vehicle, SLV3. The one that launched Rohini. These years played a very important role in my life of Scientist.
After my ISRO years, I joined DRDO and got a chance to be the part of India's guided missile program. It was my second bliss when Agni met its mission requirements in 1994. The Dept of Atomic Energy and DRDO had this tremendous partnership in the recent nuclear tests, on May 11 and 13.
This was the third bliss.
The joy of participating with my team in these nuclear tests and proving to the world that India can make it, that we are no longer a developing nation but one of them. It made me feel very proud as an Indian. The fact that We have now developed for Agni a re-entry structure, for which we have developed this new material. A very light material called carbon-carbon.
One day an orthopedic surgeon from Nizam Institute of Medical Sciences visited my laboratory. He lifted the material and found it so light that he took me to his hospital and showed me his patients. There were these Little girls and boys with heavy metallic calipers weighing over three Kg.
each, dragging their feet around.
He said to me: Please remove the pain of my patients.
In three weeks, we made these Floor reaction Orthosis 300-gram calipers and took them to the orthopedic center. The children didn't believe their eyes. From dragging around a three kg. load on their legs, they could Now move around. Their parents had tears in their eyes.
That was my fourth bliss!
Why is the media here so negative?
Why are we in India so embarrassed to recognize our own strengths, our achievements? We are such a great nation. We have so many amazing success stories but we refuse to acknowledge them.
Why?
We are the first in milk production.
We are number one in Remote sensing satellites.
We are the second largest producer of wheat.
We are the second largest producer of rice.
Look at Dr Sudarshan, he has transferred the tribal village into a
self-sustaining, self-driving unit.
There are millions of such achievements but our media is only obsessed in the bad news and failures and disasters.
I was in Tel Aviv once and I was reading the Israeli newspaper. It was the day after a lot of attacks and bombardments and deaths had taken place.
The Hamas had struck. But the front page of the newspaper had the picture of a Jewish gentleman who in five years had transformed his desert into an orchid and a granary.
It was this inspiring picture that everyone woke up to. The gory details of killings, bombardments, deaths, were inside in the newspaper, buried among other news.
In India we only read about death, sickness, terrorism, crime. Why are we so NEGATIVE?
Another question: Why are we, as a nation so obsessed with foreign things?
We want foreign TVs, we want foreign shirts. We want foreign technology.
Why this obsession with everything imported. Do we not realize that self-respect comes with self-reliance?
I was in Hyderabad giving this lecture, when a 14 year old girl asked me for my autograph. I asked her what her goal in life is. She replied:
I want to live in a developed India.
For her, you and I will have to build this developed India You must proclaim.
India is not an under-developed nation; it is a highly developed nation.
Do you have 10 minutes? Allow me to come back with a vengeance.
Got 10 minutes for your country? If yes, then read; otherwise, choice is yours.
YOU say that our government is inefficient.
YOU say that our laws are too old.
YOU say that the municipality does not pick up the garbage.
YOU say that the phones don't work, the railways are a joke, The airline is the worst in the world, mails never reach their destination.
YOU say that our country has been fed to the dogs and is the absolute pits.
YOU say, say and say. What do YOU do about it?
Take a person on his way to Singapore. Give him a name-YOURS.
Give him a face - YOURS.
YOU walk out of the airport and you are at your International best.
In Singapore you don't throw cigarette butts on the roads or eat in the stores.
YOU are as proud of their Underground links as they are. You pay $5 (approx Rs 60) to drive through Orchard Road (equivalent of Mahim Causeway or Pedder Road) between 5 PM and 8 PM.
YOU come back to the parking lot to punch your parking ticket if you have over stayed in a restaurant or a shopping mall irrespective of your status identity.
In Singapore you don't say anything, DO YOU?
YOU wouldn't dare to eat in public during Ramadan, in Dubai.
YOU would not dare to go out without your head covered in Jeddah.
YOU would not dare to buy an employee of the telephone exchange in
London at 10 pounds (Rs 650) a month to, "see to it that my STD and ISD
calls are billed to someone else."
YOU would not dare to speed beyond 55 mph (88 km/h) in Washington and
then tell the traffic cop, "Jaanta hai main kaun hoon (Do you know who I
am?). I am so and so's son. Take your two bucks and get lost."
YOU wouldn't chuck an empty coconut shell anywhere other than the
garbage pail on the beaches in Australia and New Zealand.
Why don't YOU spit Paan on the streets of Tokyo?
Why don't YOU use examination jockeys or buy fake certificates in Boston???
We are still talking of the same YOU.
YOU who can respect and conform to a foreign system in other countries
but cannot in your own. You who will throw papers and cigarettes on the
road the moment you touch Indian ground. If you can be an involved and
appreciative citizen in an alien country, why cannot you be the same
here in India?
Once in an interview, the famous Ex-municipal commissioner of Bombay,
Mr. Tinaikar, had a point to make. "Rich people's dogs are walked on the
streets to leave their affluent droppings all over the place," he said.
"And then the same people turn around to criticize and blame the
authorities for inefficiency and dirty pavements. What do they expect
the officers to do? Go down with a broom every time their dog feels the
pressure in his bowels? In America every dog owner has to clean up
after his pet has done the job. Same in Japan.
Will the Indian citizen do that here?" He's right.
We go to the polls to choose a government and after that forfeit all
responsibility. We sit back wanting to be pampered and expect the
government to do everything for us whilst our contribution is totally
negative.
We expect the government to clean up but we are not going to stop chucking
garbage all over the place nor are we going to stop to pick a up a stray
piece of paper and throw it in the bin. We expect the railways to provide
clean bathrooms but we are not going to learn the proper use of bathrooms.
We want Indian Airlines and Air India to provide the best of food and
toiletries but we are not going to stop pilfering at the least opportunity.
This applies even to the staff who is known not to pass on the service
to the public.
When it comes to burning social issues like those related to women, dowry,
girl child! and others, we make loud drawing room protestations and
continue to do the reverse at home. Our excuse? "It's the whole system
which has to change, how will it matter if I alone forego my sons'
rights
to a dowry." So who's going to change the system? What does a system
consist of? Very conveniently for us it consists of our neighbours, other
households, other cities, other communities and the government. But
definitely not me and YOU. When it comes to us actually making a positive
contribution to the system we lock ourselves along with our families into a
safe cocoon and look into the distance at countries far away and wait for a
Mr Clean to come along & work miracles for us with a majestic sweep of
his hand or we leave the country and run away. Like lazy cowards hounded
by our fears we run to America to bask in their glory and praise their
system.
When New York becomes insecure we run to England. When England experiences
unemployment, we take the next flight out to the Gulf. When the Gulf is war
struck, we demand to be rescued and brought home by the Indian government.
Everybody is out to abuse and rape the country. Nobody thinks of
feeding the system. Our conscience is mortgaged to money.
Dear Indians, The article is highly thought inductive, calls for a great
deal of introspection and pricks one's conscience too.... I am echoing
J F Kennedy's words to his fellow Americans to relate to Indians????
"ASK WHAT WE CAN DO FOR INDIA AND DO WHAT HAS TO BE DONE
TO MAKE INDIA WHAT AMERICA AND OTHER WESTERN COUNTRIES ARE TODAY"
Lets do what India needs from us.
Forward this mail to each Indian for a change instead of sending Jokes or junk mails.
Thank you,
Dr Abdul Kalaam
(PRESIDENT OF INDIA)
November 17, 2005
Some things that make you go hmmm....
1. Why do we park in driveways and drive on parkways?
2. Do Lipton employees take coffee breaks?
3. Can I yell "movie" in a crowded firehouse?
4. Can you be a closet claustrophobic?
5. How do a fool and his money GET together?
6. Why does Hawaii have interstate highways?
7. How is it that a building burns up as it burns down?
8. If a train station is where the train stops, what is a workstation?
9. If nothing ever sticks to Teflon, how do they make Teflon stick to the pan?
10. If the pen is mightier than the sword, and a picture is worth a thousand words, how dangerous is a fax?
11. If the police arrest a mime, do they tell him he has the right to remain silent?
12. What hair color do they put on the driver's licenses of bald men?
13. What was the best thing before sliced bread?
14. Why do banks charge you a "non-sufficient funds" fee on money they already know you don't have?
15. Why do they put Braille on the drive through bank machines?
16. If Barbie is so popular, why do you have to buy her friends?
17. If you get cheated by the Better Business Bureau, who do you complain to?
18. What are Preparation A through Preparation G?
19. In a country of free speech, why are there phone bills?
20. Did Washington flash a quarter when asked for ID?
21. How come there aren't B batteries?
22. If the post office has machines that can sort snail mail at 1000's of times per minute, then
why do they give it to a little old man on a bike to deliver?
23. How do "Do not walk on the grass" signs get there?
24. Why do black olives come in cans and green olives come in jars?
25. Before they invented drawing boards, what did they go back to?
26. How is it possible to have a civil war?
27. If all the world is a stage, where is the audience sitting?
28. If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?
29. If the #2 pencil is so popular, why is it still #2?
30. Why is the alphabet in that order? Is it because of that song?
31. If I melt dry ice, can I take a bath without getting wet?
32. Crime doesn't pay...does that mean that my job is a crime?
33. How do they get the deer to cross at that yellow road sign?
34. How do you know that honesty is the best policy until you have tried some of the others?
35. How do you throw away a garbage can?
36. How does a thermos know if the drink should be hot or cold?
37. How does the guy who drives the snowplow get to work in the mornings?
38. Do you realize how many holes there could be if people would just take the time to take the dirt out of them?
39. If a word in the dictionary were misspelled, how would we know?
40. If you're in a vehicle going the speed of light, what happens when you turn on the headlights?
41. What happens to an 18 hour bra after 18 hours?
42. Why didn't Noah swat those two mosquitoes?
43. Why do hot dogs come 10 to a package and hot dog buns only 8?
44. Why do tourists go to the tops of tall buildings and then put money into telescopes so they can see things on the ground close-up?
45. Why is it that bullets ricochet off of Superman's chest, but he ducks when the gun is thrown at him?
46. Why is it that night falls but day breaks?
47. Why is it that you must wait until night to call it a day?
48. What if the Hokey Pokey IS what its all about?
49. When your pet bird sees you reading the newspaper, does he wonder why you're just sitting there, staring at carpeting?
50. What happened to the first 6 "ups"?
Comments plz...
November 15, 2005
Right to Information Act 2005
Last time I gave a competitive exam, and lost on an answer about the Right to Information in India... so here is some informaion on it for those like me!!! Waise Newspapers Help... ;-)
With the passage of the Right to Information Bill 2005 by the Rajya Sabha on May 12, 2005 India is now one of the 55 countries, which have legislated comprehensive laws that protect the citizens' right to information. Nine States namely, Delhi, Maharashtra, Tamil Nadu, Rajasthan, Karnataka, Jammu & Kashmir, Assam, Goa, and Madhya Pradesh already have laws on the right to information to show their commitment for building a dynamic and prosperous society by involving the people in governance and decision making process. The Supreme Court of India has, from time to time, interpreted Article 19, which upholds the right to freedom of speech and expression, to implicitly include the right to receive and impart information. There had been relentless efforts and mass mobilization in favour of a comprehensive Central Act providing access to information regimes.
The new legislation is a radical improvement on the relatively weak and ineffective statute it seeks to replace, the Freedom of Information Act, 2002. The new legislation unequivocally confers on all citizens the right to access information and, correspondingly, makes the dissemination of such information an obligation for all public authorities. It is an Act, which provides for setting out the practical regime of right to information for citizens to secure access to information under the control of public authorities, in order to promote transparency and accountability in the working of every public authority, the constitution of a Central Information Commission and State Information Commissions and for matters connected therewith or incidental thereto.
An outstanding feature of the Bill is the provision for Information Commissions - independent high level bodies at both the Central and State levels that are dedicated to encouraging the citizen's right to know and enforcing the provisions of the Act. By empowering these Commissions to act as appellate authorities and by vesting them with the powers of a civil court, these bodies have been given the teeth to discourage public authorities from refusing to part with information. The provisions of the Act require authorities to respond to queries in as little as 48 hours, if it is a matter of life and liberty. This will undoubtedly prompt accountability and transparency to climb up several notches, especially as the Act promises hefty fines and disciplinary action against erring officials.
Comments appreciated...
Pisceans Rule!!!
With the passage of the Right to Information Bill 2005 by the Rajya Sabha on May 12, 2005 India is now one of the 55 countries, which have legislated comprehensive laws that protect the citizens' right to information. Nine States namely, Delhi, Maharashtra, Tamil Nadu, Rajasthan, Karnataka, Jammu & Kashmir, Assam, Goa, and Madhya Pradesh already have laws on the right to information to show their commitment for building a dynamic and prosperous society by involving the people in governance and decision making process. The Supreme Court of India has, from time to time, interpreted Article 19, which upholds the right to freedom of speech and expression, to implicitly include the right to receive and impart information. There had been relentless efforts and mass mobilization in favour of a comprehensive Central Act providing access to information regimes.
The new legislation is a radical improvement on the relatively weak and ineffective statute it seeks to replace, the Freedom of Information Act, 2002. The new legislation unequivocally confers on all citizens the right to access information and, correspondingly, makes the dissemination of such information an obligation for all public authorities. It is an Act, which provides for setting out the practical regime of right to information for citizens to secure access to information under the control of public authorities, in order to promote transparency and accountability in the working of every public authority, the constitution of a Central Information Commission and State Information Commissions and for matters connected therewith or incidental thereto.
An outstanding feature of the Bill is the provision for Information Commissions - independent high level bodies at both the Central and State levels that are dedicated to encouraging the citizen's right to know and enforcing the provisions of the Act. By empowering these Commissions to act as appellate authorities and by vesting them with the powers of a civil court, these bodies have been given the teeth to discourage public authorities from refusing to part with information. The provisions of the Act require authorities to respond to queries in as little as 48 hours, if it is a matter of life and liberty. This will undoubtedly prompt accountability and transparency to climb up several notches, especially as the Act promises hefty fines and disciplinary action against erring officials.
Comments appreciated...
Pisceans Rule!!!
SHIT!!!
Early morning when u get up... u wish that u shit well... but sometimes things happen that u cannot control... ;-)
Sometimes when shit happens, you want to be able to articulate the experience more than just you've, taken a shit. Here are some shit definitions to help you explain the situation better to your friends and family...
Ghost Shit
You know you've shit. There's shit on the toilet paper, but no shit in the bowl.
Teflon Coated Shit
Comes out so slick, clean and easy that you don't feel it. No traces of shit on the toilet paper, you have to look in the bowl to be sure you did it!
Gooey Shit
This has the consistency of hot tar. You wipe your ass 12 times and it still doesn't come clean. You end up putting toilet paper in your underwear so you don't stain it. This shit leaves permanent skid marks in the toilet.
Second Thought Shit
You're all done wiping your ass and you're about to stand up when you realize it.....you've got some more.
Pop a Vein in Your Forehead Shit
This kind is the kind of shit that killed Elvis. It doesn't come until you're all sweaty, trembling and purple from straining so hard.
Bali Belly Shit
You shit so much you lose 5 kilos.
Right Now Shit
You better be within 10 seconds of a toilet. Usually it has its head out before you get your pants down.
King Kong or Commode Choker Shit
This shit is so big that you know it won't go down the toilet unless you break it into smaller chunks. A coat hanger works well. This kind of shit usually happens at someone else's house.
Wet Cheeks Shit
This shit hits the water sideways and makes a BIG splash that gets your ass wet.
Wish Shit
You sit there all cramped up and fart a few times, but no shit!
Cement Block or Oh God Shit
You wish you'd gotten a spinal block before you shit.
Snake Shit
This shit is fairly soft and about as big around as your thumb and at least three feet long.
Cork Shit (Also Known as Floater Shit)
Even after the third flush, it's still floating in there. My god! How do I get rid of it? This shit usually happens at someone else's house.
Mexican Food Shit (also called Screamers)
You'll know it's alright to eat again when your asshole stops burning.
Beer Drunk Shit
This happens the day after the night before. Normally your shit doesn't smell too bad, but this shit is BAD. Usually there's somebody standing outside to use the bathroom. This kind of shit also usually happens at someone else's house.
The Frightened Turtle
The kind of shit that just pokes its head out then quickly goes back in
The Bungee Shit
The kind of shit that just hangs off your ass before it falls into the water.
The Ring of Fire Shit
The kind of shit where you eat really spicy food and your asshole feels like the inside of a cigarette lighter.
The Crippler
The kind of shit where you have to sit on the toilet so long your legs go numb from the waist down.
The Big Bobber
The kind of shit that no matter how many times you flush it always floats back to the surface.
The Shitty Shitty Bang Bang
The kind of shit that hits you when you're trapped in your car in a traffic jam.
The Incredible Hulk Shit
The king of shit that sits in the toilet overnight and mysteriously expands to twice it's normal size.
The Jack the Ripper Shit
The kind of shit that yanks out the hair of your ass as it pushes its way out.
The Party Pooper
The giant shit you take at a party. And when you flush the toilet, you watch in horror as the water starts to rise.
The Toxic Gas Shit
The kind of shit that makes you pass out and fall of the toilet before you finish, and then you wake up in some strange South American town.
Dirty Bowl Shit
The kind of shit that comes out in a million pieces a second, reminiscent of an avalanche - but with rocket propulsion, and splatters all over the toilet bowl.
The Windy City Shit
When you sit down, and fart for so long and hard that you no longer need to take a shit.
Oh Shit! Shit
You shit so much and wipe your ass so furiously you run out of toilet paper and you say OH SHIT!
The Never Ending Shit
It's the shit that keeps running out of your ass like pea, and just when you start wiping your ass your stomach gargles and splash, more shit runs out. This always happens after eating at Kentucky Fried Chicken.
Ouch That Hurt Shit
The type of shit that leaves you feeling like you just hoped onto a bicycle without a seat. Sensation usually lasts hours.
Hahahaha...
Pisceans Rule!!!
Sometimes when shit happens, you want to be able to articulate the experience more than just you've, taken a shit. Here are some shit definitions to help you explain the situation better to your friends and family...
Ghost Shit
You know you've shit. There's shit on the toilet paper, but no shit in the bowl.
Teflon Coated Shit
Comes out so slick, clean and easy that you don't feel it. No traces of shit on the toilet paper, you have to look in the bowl to be sure you did it!
Gooey Shit
This has the consistency of hot tar. You wipe your ass 12 times and it still doesn't come clean. You end up putting toilet paper in your underwear so you don't stain it. This shit leaves permanent skid marks in the toilet.
Second Thought Shit
You're all done wiping your ass and you're about to stand up when you realize it.....you've got some more.
Pop a Vein in Your Forehead Shit
This kind is the kind of shit that killed Elvis. It doesn't come until you're all sweaty, trembling and purple from straining so hard.
Bali Belly Shit
You shit so much you lose 5 kilos.
Right Now Shit
You better be within 10 seconds of a toilet. Usually it has its head out before you get your pants down.
King Kong or Commode Choker Shit
This shit is so big that you know it won't go down the toilet unless you break it into smaller chunks. A coat hanger works well. This kind of shit usually happens at someone else's house.
Wet Cheeks Shit
This shit hits the water sideways and makes a BIG splash that gets your ass wet.
Wish Shit
You sit there all cramped up and fart a few times, but no shit!
Cement Block or Oh God Shit
You wish you'd gotten a spinal block before you shit.
Snake Shit
This shit is fairly soft and about as big around as your thumb and at least three feet long.
Cork Shit (Also Known as Floater Shit)
Even after the third flush, it's still floating in there. My god! How do I get rid of it? This shit usually happens at someone else's house.
Mexican Food Shit (also called Screamers)
You'll know it's alright to eat again when your asshole stops burning.
Beer Drunk Shit
This happens the day after the night before. Normally your shit doesn't smell too bad, but this shit is BAD. Usually there's somebody standing outside to use the bathroom. This kind of shit also usually happens at someone else's house.
The Frightened Turtle
The kind of shit that just pokes its head out then quickly goes back in
The Bungee Shit
The kind of shit that just hangs off your ass before it falls into the water.
The Ring of Fire Shit
The kind of shit where you eat really spicy food and your asshole feels like the inside of a cigarette lighter.
The Crippler
The kind of shit where you have to sit on the toilet so long your legs go numb from the waist down.
The Big Bobber
The kind of shit that no matter how many times you flush it always floats back to the surface.
The Shitty Shitty Bang Bang
The kind of shit that hits you when you're trapped in your car in a traffic jam.
The Incredible Hulk Shit
The king of shit that sits in the toilet overnight and mysteriously expands to twice it's normal size.
The Jack the Ripper Shit
The kind of shit that yanks out the hair of your ass as it pushes its way out.
The Party Pooper
The giant shit you take at a party. And when you flush the toilet, you watch in horror as the water starts to rise.
The Toxic Gas Shit
The kind of shit that makes you pass out and fall of the toilet before you finish, and then you wake up in some strange South American town.
Dirty Bowl Shit
The kind of shit that comes out in a million pieces a second, reminiscent of an avalanche - but with rocket propulsion, and splatters all over the toilet bowl.
The Windy City Shit
When you sit down, and fart for so long and hard that you no longer need to take a shit.
Oh Shit! Shit
You shit so much and wipe your ass so furiously you run out of toilet paper and you say OH SHIT!
The Never Ending Shit
It's the shit that keeps running out of your ass like pea, and just when you start wiping your ass your stomach gargles and splash, more shit runs out. This always happens after eating at Kentucky Fried Chicken.
Ouch That Hurt Shit
The type of shit that leaves you feeling like you just hoped onto a bicycle without a seat. Sensation usually lasts hours.
Hahahaha...
Pisceans Rule!!!
November 14, 2005
Naming Tropical Storms and Hurricanes
This is what I came to know about how the hurricanes and tropical storms are named...
To tell the truth, I have no personal interest in them... it was Meenakshi didi who got me all interested in them... THANx!!! ;-) It sure was enlightening (pun intended)
Since a hurricane can last for a week or more, and there can be more than one storm at a time, weather forecasters give each storm a name so there is no confusion when talking about a particular storm. Each year, the first tropical storm of the season is given a name that starts with A; the second storm is given a name that starts with a B, and so on. Women's and men's names are alternated. The name lists are made up by meteorologists at the World Meteorological Organization.
There are different name lists for Atlantic and eastern Pacific tropical storms. Storms are named as soon as the winds are 39 mph or more. The names of very destructive storms (like Andrew, Camille, and Hugo) are retired (they are never used again).
Until late in the 1940s, hurricanes were not officially named (hurricane forecasting was then in its infancy). Only the most severe hurricanes were given names, and they were often named for the place they did the most damage (like the Galveston Hurricane of 1900) or the time they hit (like the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935). US meteorologists working in the Pacific Ocean began naming tropical cyclones during World War 2, when they often had to track multiple storms. They gave each storm a name in order to distinguish the cyclones more quickly than listing their positions. The first US named hurricane (unofficially named) was George, which hit in 1947. The next one given a name was Hurricane Bess (named for the First Lady of the USA, Bess Truman, in 1949). Various naming conventions were used until the use of women's names was adopted in 1953; the names used that year were: Alice, Barbara, Carol, Dolly, Edna, Florence, Gilda, Hazel, Irene, Jill, Katherine, Lucy, Mabel, Norma, Orpha, Patsy, Queen, Rachel, Susie, Tina, Una, Vicky, and Wallis.
Between 1953 and 1979, only women's names were used to name tropical storms. Since 1979, men's and women's names are alternated as names.
Hurricane Center May Run Out of Names
Before the 2005 hurricane season is done, you might read about Hurricane Alpha.
Each year, 21 common names are reserved for Atlantic Basin hurricanes, with the list arranged alphabetically and skipping certain letters. Rita is the 17th named storm in the Atlantic Basin this year. There are only four left.
So what will officials do after tropical storm Wilma develops, assuming it does?
"We go to the Greek alphabet," said Frank Lepore, spokesman for the National Hurricane Center.
This gives the World Meteorological Organization (WMO), the United Nations agency responsible for choosing hurricane names, 24 more names to work with, from Alpha to Omega, and including such names as Omicron and Upsilon.
Could happen
This season started out as the busiest ever, with 4 named storms by July 5. It never really let up.
"The August update to Atlantic hurricane season outlook called for 18 to 21, so I would hope it doesn't go any higher than that, but it's a possibility," Lepore said.
The naming of Hurricanes has a long and interesting history. For many centuries, hurricanes in the West Indies were named after particular Catholic saint's days on which they occurred. Hurricane "San Felipe" struck Puerto Rico on September 13, 1876. When another hurricane struck Puerto Rico on the same day more than fifty years later, it was christianed "San Felipe the second."
Later, latitude-longitude positions were used, but this method quickly proved cumbersome.
Military weather forecasters began giving women's names to significant storms during WWII, then in 1950 the WMO agreed to an alphabetical naming system, using the military's radio code. The first named Atlantic hurricane was Able in 1950.
Name change
Officials soon realized the naming convention would cause problems in the history books if more than one powerful Hurricane Able made landfall. So, in 1953 the organization adopted a rotating series of women's names, planning to retire names of significant storms.
Feminists urged the WMO to add men's names, which was done in 1979. The boy-girl-boy-girl naming convention evolved to include French and Spanish names in the Atlantic system, reflecting the languages of the nations affected by Caribbean hurricanes.
The twenty-one names reserved each year (the letters q, u, x, y and z are not used) are recycled every six years, minus those retired (such as Hugo and Andrew and, you can bet, Katrina). When a name is retired, the WMO chooses a new name to replace it.The year with the most documented tropical storms was 1933, when there were 21 in the Atlantic Basin, but this was before hurricanes were routinely named. Activity is known to wax and wane in cycles that last decades. But some studies have suggested that global warming may be causing increases in hurricane intensity and frequency. Many scientists are skeptical.
Any comments are appreciated... nw that they have a comments column!!!
Pisceans Rule!!!
To tell the truth, I have no personal interest in them... it was Meenakshi didi who got me all interested in them... THANx!!! ;-) It sure was enlightening (pun intended)
Since a hurricane can last for a week or more, and there can be more than one storm at a time, weather forecasters give each storm a name so there is no confusion when talking about a particular storm. Each year, the first tropical storm of the season is given a name that starts with A; the second storm is given a name that starts with a B, and so on. Women's and men's names are alternated. The name lists are made up by meteorologists at the World Meteorological Organization.
There are different name lists for Atlantic and eastern Pacific tropical storms. Storms are named as soon as the winds are 39 mph or more. The names of very destructive storms (like Andrew, Camille, and Hugo) are retired (they are never used again).
Until late in the 1940s, hurricanes were not officially named (hurricane forecasting was then in its infancy). Only the most severe hurricanes were given names, and they were often named for the place they did the most damage (like the Galveston Hurricane of 1900) or the time they hit (like the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935). US meteorologists working in the Pacific Ocean began naming tropical cyclones during World War 2, when they often had to track multiple storms. They gave each storm a name in order to distinguish the cyclones more quickly than listing their positions. The first US named hurricane (unofficially named) was George, which hit in 1947. The next one given a name was Hurricane Bess (named for the First Lady of the USA, Bess Truman, in 1949). Various naming conventions were used until the use of women's names was adopted in 1953; the names used that year were: Alice, Barbara, Carol, Dolly, Edna, Florence, Gilda, Hazel, Irene, Jill, Katherine, Lucy, Mabel, Norma, Orpha, Patsy, Queen, Rachel, Susie, Tina, Una, Vicky, and Wallis.
Between 1953 and 1979, only women's names were used to name tropical storms. Since 1979, men's and women's names are alternated as names.
Hurricane Center May Run Out of Names
Before the 2005 hurricane season is done, you might read about Hurricane Alpha.
Each year, 21 common names are reserved for Atlantic Basin hurricanes, with the list arranged alphabetically and skipping certain letters. Rita is the 17th named storm in the Atlantic Basin this year. There are only four left.
So what will officials do after tropical storm Wilma develops, assuming it does?
"We go to the Greek alphabet," said Frank Lepore, spokesman for the National Hurricane Center.
This gives the World Meteorological Organization (WMO), the United Nations agency responsible for choosing hurricane names, 24 more names to work with, from Alpha to Omega, and including such names as Omicron and Upsilon.
Could happen
This season started out as the busiest ever, with 4 named storms by July 5. It never really let up.
"The August update to Atlantic hurricane season outlook called for 18 to 21, so I would hope it doesn't go any higher than that, but it's a possibility," Lepore said.
The naming of Hurricanes has a long and interesting history. For many centuries, hurricanes in the West Indies were named after particular Catholic saint's days on which they occurred. Hurricane "San Felipe" struck Puerto Rico on September 13, 1876. When another hurricane struck Puerto Rico on the same day more than fifty years later, it was christianed "San Felipe the second."
Later, latitude-longitude positions were used, but this method quickly proved cumbersome.
Military weather forecasters began giving women's names to significant storms during WWII, then in 1950 the WMO agreed to an alphabetical naming system, using the military's radio code. The first named Atlantic hurricane was Able in 1950.
Name change
Officials soon realized the naming convention would cause problems in the history books if more than one powerful Hurricane Able made landfall. So, in 1953 the organization adopted a rotating series of women's names, planning to retire names of significant storms.
Feminists urged the WMO to add men's names, which was done in 1979. The boy-girl-boy-girl naming convention evolved to include French and Spanish names in the Atlantic system, reflecting the languages of the nations affected by Caribbean hurricanes.
The twenty-one names reserved each year (the letters q, u, x, y and z are not used) are recycled every six years, minus those retired (such as Hugo and Andrew and, you can bet, Katrina). When a name is retired, the WMO chooses a new name to replace it.The year with the most documented tropical storms was 1933, when there were 21 in the Atlantic Basin, but this was before hurricanes were routinely named. Activity is known to wax and wane in cycles that last decades. But some studies have suggested that global warming may be causing increases in hurricane intensity and frequency. Many scientists are skeptical.
Any comments are appreciated... nw that they have a comments column!!!
Pisceans Rule!!!
November 12, 2005
One Night @ the call center
Prologue
The night train ride from Kanpur to Delhi was the most memorable journey of my life. For one, it gave me my second book. And two, it is not everyday you sit in an empty compartment and a young, pretty girl walks in.Yes, you see it in the movies, you hear about it from friends' friends but it never happens to you. When I was younger, I used to check the reservation chart stuck outside a train bogie to see all the female passengers near my seat (F-17 to F-25 is what I'd look for most). Yet, it never happened. In most cases, I shared my compartment with talkative women, snoring men and wailing infants. But this night was different. Firstly, my compartment was empty. The railways had just started this new summer train and nobody knew about it. Secondly, I was unable to sleep.I had come to IIT Kanpur for a talk. Before leaving, I drank four cups of coffee in the canteen chatting with the students. Bad idea, given it was going to be boring to spend eight insomniac hours in an empty compartment. I had no magazines or books to read. I could hardly see anything out of the window in the darkness. I prepared myself for a silent and dull night. Of course, it was anything but that.She walked in five minutes after the train had left the station. She opened the curtains of my enclosure and looked puzzled."Is coach A4, seat 63 here?” she said.The yellow lightbulb in my compartment had a mood of its own. It flickered as I looked up to see her."Huh..,” I said as I saw her face. It was difficult to withdraw from the gaze of her eyes. "Actually it is. My seat is right in front of you,” she said and heaved her heavy suitcase on the upper berth . She sat down on the lower berth opposite to me, and gave out a sigh of relief."I climbed on the wrong coach. Luckily this train is connected,” she said, adjusting her long hair that ended in countless ringlets. From the corner of my eye I tried to see her. She was young, maybe early to mid twenties. Her waist length hair had a life of its own, a strand falling on her forehead repeatedly. I could not see her face closely, but I could tell one thing - she was pretty. And her eyes - once you looked into them, you could not turn away. I kept my gaze down.She re-arranged stuff in her handbag. I tried to look out of the window. It was completely dark."So, pretty empty train,” she said after ten minutes."Yes, I said. It is the new holiday special. They just started it, without telling people about it.”"No wonder. Otherwise, trains are always full at this time.”"It will get full. Don't worry. Just give it a few days,” I said and leaned forward, " Hi. I am Chetan by the way, Chetan Bhagat.”"Hi,” she said and looked at me for a few seconds, "Chetan as in...I don't know, your name sounds familiar."Now this was cool. It meant she had heard of my first book. I am recognized rarely. And of course, it had never happened with a girl on a night train."You might have heard of my book - Five Point Someone. I am the author,” I said."Oh yes,” she said and paused, "Oh yes, of course. I have read your book. The three underperformers and the prof's daughter one, right?” she said."Yes,” I said, "So how did you like it?""It was all right,” she said.I was taken aback. Man, I could have done with a little more of a compliment here."Just all right?” I said, obviously fishing a bit too hard."Well,” she said and paused."Well what?” I said after ten seconds."Well. Yeah, just all right...ok ok types,” she said.I kept quiet. She noticed my facial expression of mild disappointment."Anyway, nice to meet you Chetan. Where are you coming from? IIT Kanpur?""Yes,” I said, my voice less friendly than a few moments ago, "I gave a talk there.”"Oh really? About what?""About my book - you know the just ok-ok type one. Some people do want to hear about it,” I said, keeping a sweet tone to sugar-coat my sarcasm filled words."Interesting,” she said and turned quiet again.I was quiet too. I didn't want to speak to her anymore. I wanted my empty compartment back.The flickering yellow light above was irritating me. I wondered if I should just shut it off, but it was not that late yet."What's the next station? Is it a non-stop train,” she said after five minutes, obviously to make conversation."I don't know,” I said and turned to look at the windows again. I couldn’t see anything in the darkness."Is everything ok?” she asked softly."Yes, why?” I said. The tone of my ‘why' gave away that everything was not ok." Nothing. You upset about what I said about your book right?""Not really,” I said.She laughed. I looked at her. Just like her gaze, her smile was arresting too. I knew she was laughing at me, but I wanted her to keep smiling. I pulled my eyes away again."Listen. I know your book did well. You are like this youth writer and everything. But at one level...just forget it.”"What?” I said."At one level, you are hardly a youth writer.”I turned silent and looked at her for a few seconds. Her magnetic eyes had a soft but insistent gaze. "I thought I wrote a book about college kids. That isn't youth?" I said."Yeah right. So, you wrote a book on IIT. A place where so few people get to go. You think that represents the entire youth?” she said and took out a box of mints from her bag. She offered me one, but I declined. I wanted to get this straight."So what are you trying to say? I had to start somewhere, so I wrote about my college experiences. And you know the story is not so IIT specific. It could have happened anywhere. I mean, just for that you are trashing my book.”"I am not trashing it. I am just saying it hardly represents the Indian youth,” she said and closed back the box of mints."Oh really..,” I said but was interrupted by the noise as the train passed over a long river bridge. We didn’t speak for the next three minutes, until the train returned to smoother tracks. "What represents the youth?” I said."I don't know. You are the writer. You figure it out.,” she said, and brushed aside a few curls that had fallen on her forehead."That's not fair,” I said, "that is so not fair.” I sounded like a five year old throwing a tantrum. She smiled as she saw me grumbling to myself. A few seconds later, she spoke again."Are you going to write more books?” she said."I'll try to,” I said. I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to talk to her again."So what is going to be? IIMs this time?” she said."No.”"Why not?""Because it does not represent the country's youth,” I said.She started laughing. "See I am taking feedback. And now you laugh at me,” I said."No, no,” she said, "I am not laughing at you. Can you stop being so over-sensitive?""I am not over-sensitive. I just want to take feedback,” I said and turned my face away."Well, well now. Let me explain. See I just felt the whole IITian thing is cool and all, but what does it all mean in the broader sense. Yes, the book sells and you get to go to IIT Kanpur. But is that what it is all about?” she said."Well, then what is it about?""If you want to write about the youth, shouldn't you talk about young people who really face challenges? I mean yes, IITians face challenges, but what about the hundreds and thousands of other youth?""Like whom.”"Just look around you. What is the biggest segment of youth facing challenges in modern India?""I don't know. Students?""Not those Mr. Writer. Get out of the student-campus of your first book now? Anything else you see that you find strange and interesting? I mean, what is the subject of your second novel?” she said.I turned up to look at her carefully for the first time. Maybe it was the time of the night - but I kid you not, she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Everything about her was perfect.Her face was like that of a child. She wore a little bindi, which was hard to focus on as her eyes came in the way.I went back to her question."Second novel? No, haven't thought of a subject yet,” I said."Really? Don't you have any ideas?""I do. But nothing I am sure about.""Inte….resting,” she drawled, "Well, just bask in your first book then.”We kept quiet for the next half an hour. I took out the contents of my overnight bag and rearranged them for no particular reason. I wondered if it even made sense to change into a nightsuit. I was not going to fall asleep anyway. Another train noisily trundled past us in the opposite direction, leaving silence behind."I might have a story idea for you,” she said, almost startling me."Huh?” I was wary of what she was going to say. For no matter what her idea was, I had to appear interested. "What is it?""It is a story about a call center.”"Really?” I said," Call centers as in business process outsourcing centers or BPOs?""Yes, do you know anything about them?"I thought about it. I did know about call centers, mostly from my cousins who worked there."Yes, I know a little bit,” I said, "Some 300,000 people work in the industry. They help US companies in sales, service and maintenance of their operations. Usually younger people work there in night shifts. Quite interesting, actually.”"Just interesting? Have you ever thought of what all they have to face?” she said, her voice turning firm again."No,” I said."Why? They aren't the youth? You don't want to cover them?” she said, almost scolding me."Listen, let's not start arguing again...""I am not. I told you that I have a call center story for you.”I looked at my watch. It was 12.30 a.m. A story would not be such a bad idea to kill time, I thought."Let's hear it then,” I said."I can tell you. But I have a condition,” she said.Condition? I was puzzled. How can you have conditions in storytelling?"What condition? That I don’t tell it to anyone else?”"No. Just the opposite, in fact. You have to promise me to write it as your second book.”"What?” I said and almost jumped from my seat.Wow! Now that was something. OK, so I meet a girl who appears interesting and had a pair of nice eyes and looks like she can tell me a story to kill time. However, it does not mean I will listen to it and spend two years of my life turning it into a book."Like a full book? Are you kidding? I cannot promise that. It is a lot of work,” I said."Up to you,” she said and turned silent.I waited for ten seconds. She did not speak."Can't I decide on that after you tell me the story?” I said, "If it is interesting, I may even do it. But how can I decide without listening to it.""No. It is not about choice. If I tell you, you have to write it,” she said."Like write a whole book on it?” I said."Yes. Like it is your own story. In first person - just as your first book. I’ll give you the contacts of people in the story. You can meet them, do your research, whatever it takes, but make it your second book.”"Well then I think it is better if you don't tell me,” I said."Up to you,” she said and became quiet. She turned around to spread a bedsheet on her berth, and arranged the pillows and blankets. I guess she was planning to go to sleep.I checked my watch again. It was 01:00 a.m., and I was still wide awake. This was a non-stop train, and there were no stations to look forward to until Delhi in the morning. She switched off the flickering yellow light. A mysterious blue light bulb was the only night light in the compartment.It felt strange, like we were the only two people in the universe. As she was sliding under her blanket, I asked, "What is the story about? At least tell me a little bit more.”"Will you do it then?"I shrugged in the semi-darkness. "Can't say. Do not tell me the story yet. But at least tell me what it is about.”She nodded and came out of her blanket. She sat cross-legged opposite me as she began talking."Allright,” she said, "It is a story about six people in a call center on one night.""Just one night? Like this one?” I interrupted."Yes, one night. One night at the call center.”"You sure that can be a full book? I mean, what is so special about this night?”She heaved a sigh and took a sip from her bottle of mineral water."You see,” she said, "It wasn't like any other night. It was a night there was a phone call.”"What?” I said and burst out laughing, "So a call center gets a phone call. That is the special part?"She did not smile back. She waited for my amusement to end."You see,” she continued, "It wasn't an ordinary phone call. It was the night...it was the night there was a phone call from God.”Her words had me spring to attention. "What?”."You heard me. That night there was a phone call from God,” she said."What exactly are you talking about?”"I just told you what the story was about. You asked, remember?” she said."And then.. how...I mean…”"I am not telling you anymore. You know what the story is about. If you want to hear the story, you know my condition.”"That is a tough condition,” I said."I know. Up to you,” she said and lifted her blanket again. She lay down and closed her eyes.Six people. One night. Call Center. Call from God. The phrases kept repeating in my head as another hour passed. At 2:00 a.m., she woke up to have a sip of water."Not sleeping?,” she asked with eyes only half open.Maybe there was a voltage problem, but this time even the blue light started flickering in the compartment."No, not sleepy at all,” I said."OK, goodnight anyway,” she said, as she was about to lie down again."Listen,” I said, "Get up. Sit down again.”"Huh?” she said, rubbing her eyes, "Why? What happened?""Nothing. You tell me what happened. Tell me the story,” I said."So you will write it?""Yes,” I said, with a bit of hesitation."Good,” she said, and sat up again. The cross-legged position was back.Over the rest of the night, she told me the story that begins from the next page. It is a story about six people, three guys and three girls who worked at the Connexions Call Center. I chose to tell the story through Shyam's eyes. This is because after I met him, I found him closest to me as a person. The rest of the people and what happened that night - well, I will let Shyam tell you that.
The night train ride from Kanpur to Delhi was the most memorable journey of my life. For one, it gave me my second book. And two, it is not everyday you sit in an empty compartment and a young, pretty girl walks in.Yes, you see it in the movies, you hear about it from friends' friends but it never happens to you. When I was younger, I used to check the reservation chart stuck outside a train bogie to see all the female passengers near my seat (F-17 to F-25 is what I'd look for most). Yet, it never happened. In most cases, I shared my compartment with talkative women, snoring men and wailing infants. But this night was different. Firstly, my compartment was empty. The railways had just started this new summer train and nobody knew about it. Secondly, I was unable to sleep.I had come to IIT Kanpur for a talk. Before leaving, I drank four cups of coffee in the canteen chatting with the students. Bad idea, given it was going to be boring to spend eight insomniac hours in an empty compartment. I had no magazines or books to read. I could hardly see anything out of the window in the darkness. I prepared myself for a silent and dull night. Of course, it was anything but that.She walked in five minutes after the train had left the station. She opened the curtains of my enclosure and looked puzzled."Is coach A4, seat 63 here?” she said.The yellow lightbulb in my compartment had a mood of its own. It flickered as I looked up to see her."Huh..,” I said as I saw her face. It was difficult to withdraw from the gaze of her eyes. "Actually it is. My seat is right in front of you,” she said and heaved her heavy suitcase on the upper berth . She sat down on the lower berth opposite to me, and gave out a sigh of relief."I climbed on the wrong coach. Luckily this train is connected,” she said, adjusting her long hair that ended in countless ringlets. From the corner of my eye I tried to see her. She was young, maybe early to mid twenties. Her waist length hair had a life of its own, a strand falling on her forehead repeatedly. I could not see her face closely, but I could tell one thing - she was pretty. And her eyes - once you looked into them, you could not turn away. I kept my gaze down.She re-arranged stuff in her handbag. I tried to look out of the window. It was completely dark."So, pretty empty train,” she said after ten minutes."Yes, I said. It is the new holiday special. They just started it, without telling people about it.”"No wonder. Otherwise, trains are always full at this time.”"It will get full. Don't worry. Just give it a few days,” I said and leaned forward, " Hi. I am Chetan by the way, Chetan Bhagat.”"Hi,” she said and looked at me for a few seconds, "Chetan as in...I don't know, your name sounds familiar."Now this was cool. It meant she had heard of my first book. I am recognized rarely. And of course, it had never happened with a girl on a night train."You might have heard of my book - Five Point Someone. I am the author,” I said."Oh yes,” she said and paused, "Oh yes, of course. I have read your book. The three underperformers and the prof's daughter one, right?” she said."Yes,” I said, "So how did you like it?""It was all right,” she said.I was taken aback. Man, I could have done with a little more of a compliment here."Just all right?” I said, obviously fishing a bit too hard."Well,” she said and paused."Well what?” I said after ten seconds."Well. Yeah, just all right...ok ok types,” she said.I kept quiet. She noticed my facial expression of mild disappointment."Anyway, nice to meet you Chetan. Where are you coming from? IIT Kanpur?""Yes,” I said, my voice less friendly than a few moments ago, "I gave a talk there.”"Oh really? About what?""About my book - you know the just ok-ok type one. Some people do want to hear about it,” I said, keeping a sweet tone to sugar-coat my sarcasm filled words."Interesting,” she said and turned quiet again.I was quiet too. I didn't want to speak to her anymore. I wanted my empty compartment back.The flickering yellow light above was irritating me. I wondered if I should just shut it off, but it was not that late yet."What's the next station? Is it a non-stop train,” she said after five minutes, obviously to make conversation."I don't know,” I said and turned to look at the windows again. I couldn’t see anything in the darkness."Is everything ok?” she asked softly."Yes, why?” I said. The tone of my ‘why' gave away that everything was not ok." Nothing. You upset about what I said about your book right?""Not really,” I said.She laughed. I looked at her. Just like her gaze, her smile was arresting too. I knew she was laughing at me, but I wanted her to keep smiling. I pulled my eyes away again."Listen. I know your book did well. You are like this youth writer and everything. But at one level...just forget it.”"What?” I said."At one level, you are hardly a youth writer.”I turned silent and looked at her for a few seconds. Her magnetic eyes had a soft but insistent gaze. "I thought I wrote a book about college kids. That isn't youth?" I said."Yeah right. So, you wrote a book on IIT. A place where so few people get to go. You think that represents the entire youth?” she said and took out a box of mints from her bag. She offered me one, but I declined. I wanted to get this straight."So what are you trying to say? I had to start somewhere, so I wrote about my college experiences. And you know the story is not so IIT specific. It could have happened anywhere. I mean, just for that you are trashing my book.”"I am not trashing it. I am just saying it hardly represents the Indian youth,” she said and closed back the box of mints."Oh really..,” I said but was interrupted by the noise as the train passed over a long river bridge. We didn’t speak for the next three minutes, until the train returned to smoother tracks. "What represents the youth?” I said."I don't know. You are the writer. You figure it out.,” she said, and brushed aside a few curls that had fallen on her forehead."That's not fair,” I said, "that is so not fair.” I sounded like a five year old throwing a tantrum. She smiled as she saw me grumbling to myself. A few seconds later, she spoke again."Are you going to write more books?” she said."I'll try to,” I said. I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to talk to her again."So what is going to be? IIMs this time?” she said."No.”"Why not?""Because it does not represent the country's youth,” I said.She started laughing. "See I am taking feedback. And now you laugh at me,” I said."No, no,” she said, "I am not laughing at you. Can you stop being so over-sensitive?""I am not over-sensitive. I just want to take feedback,” I said and turned my face away."Well, well now. Let me explain. See I just felt the whole IITian thing is cool and all, but what does it all mean in the broader sense. Yes, the book sells and you get to go to IIT Kanpur. But is that what it is all about?” she said."Well, then what is it about?""If you want to write about the youth, shouldn't you talk about young people who really face challenges? I mean yes, IITians face challenges, but what about the hundreds and thousands of other youth?""Like whom.”"Just look around you. What is the biggest segment of youth facing challenges in modern India?""I don't know. Students?""Not those Mr. Writer. Get out of the student-campus of your first book now? Anything else you see that you find strange and interesting? I mean, what is the subject of your second novel?” she said.I turned up to look at her carefully for the first time. Maybe it was the time of the night - but I kid you not, she was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Everything about her was perfect.Her face was like that of a child. She wore a little bindi, which was hard to focus on as her eyes came in the way.I went back to her question."Second novel? No, haven't thought of a subject yet,” I said."Really? Don't you have any ideas?""I do. But nothing I am sure about.""Inte….resting,” she drawled, "Well, just bask in your first book then.”We kept quiet for the next half an hour. I took out the contents of my overnight bag and rearranged them for no particular reason. I wondered if it even made sense to change into a nightsuit. I was not going to fall asleep anyway. Another train noisily trundled past us in the opposite direction, leaving silence behind."I might have a story idea for you,” she said, almost startling me."Huh?” I was wary of what she was going to say. For no matter what her idea was, I had to appear interested. "What is it?""It is a story about a call center.”"Really?” I said," Call centers as in business process outsourcing centers or BPOs?""Yes, do you know anything about them?"I thought about it. I did know about call centers, mostly from my cousins who worked there."Yes, I know a little bit,” I said, "Some 300,000 people work in the industry. They help US companies in sales, service and maintenance of their operations. Usually younger people work there in night shifts. Quite interesting, actually.”"Just interesting? Have you ever thought of what all they have to face?” she said, her voice turning firm again."No,” I said."Why? They aren't the youth? You don't want to cover them?” she said, almost scolding me."Listen, let's not start arguing again...""I am not. I told you that I have a call center story for you.”I looked at my watch. It was 12.30 a.m. A story would not be such a bad idea to kill time, I thought."Let's hear it then,” I said."I can tell you. But I have a condition,” she said.Condition? I was puzzled. How can you have conditions in storytelling?"What condition? That I don’t tell it to anyone else?”"No. Just the opposite, in fact. You have to promise me to write it as your second book.”"What?” I said and almost jumped from my seat.Wow! Now that was something. OK, so I meet a girl who appears interesting and had a pair of nice eyes and looks like she can tell me a story to kill time. However, it does not mean I will listen to it and spend two years of my life turning it into a book."Like a full book? Are you kidding? I cannot promise that. It is a lot of work,” I said."Up to you,” she said and turned silent.I waited for ten seconds. She did not speak."Can't I decide on that after you tell me the story?” I said, "If it is interesting, I may even do it. But how can I decide without listening to it.""No. It is not about choice. If I tell you, you have to write it,” she said."Like write a whole book on it?” I said."Yes. Like it is your own story. In first person - just as your first book. I’ll give you the contacts of people in the story. You can meet them, do your research, whatever it takes, but make it your second book.”"Well then I think it is better if you don't tell me,” I said."Up to you,” she said and became quiet. She turned around to spread a bedsheet on her berth, and arranged the pillows and blankets. I guess she was planning to go to sleep.I checked my watch again. It was 01:00 a.m., and I was still wide awake. This was a non-stop train, and there were no stations to look forward to until Delhi in the morning. She switched off the flickering yellow light. A mysterious blue light bulb was the only night light in the compartment.It felt strange, like we were the only two people in the universe. As she was sliding under her blanket, I asked, "What is the story about? At least tell me a little bit more.”"Will you do it then?"I shrugged in the semi-darkness. "Can't say. Do not tell me the story yet. But at least tell me what it is about.”She nodded and came out of her blanket. She sat cross-legged opposite me as she began talking."Allright,” she said, "It is a story about six people in a call center on one night.""Just one night? Like this one?” I interrupted."Yes, one night. One night at the call center.”"You sure that can be a full book? I mean, what is so special about this night?”She heaved a sigh and took a sip from her bottle of mineral water."You see,” she said, "It wasn't like any other night. It was a night there was a phone call.”"What?” I said and burst out laughing, "So a call center gets a phone call. That is the special part?"She did not smile back. She waited for my amusement to end."You see,” she continued, "It wasn't an ordinary phone call. It was the night...it was the night there was a phone call from God.”Her words had me spring to attention. "What?”."You heard me. That night there was a phone call from God,” she said."What exactly are you talking about?”"I just told you what the story was about. You asked, remember?” she said."And then.. how...I mean…”"I am not telling you anymore. You know what the story is about. If you want to hear the story, you know my condition.”"That is a tough condition,” I said."I know. Up to you,” she said and lifted her blanket again. She lay down and closed her eyes.Six people. One night. Call Center. Call from God. The phrases kept repeating in my head as another hour passed. At 2:00 a.m., she woke up to have a sip of water."Not sleeping?,” she asked with eyes only half open.Maybe there was a voltage problem, but this time even the blue light started flickering in the compartment."No, not sleepy at all,” I said."OK, goodnight anyway,” she said, as she was about to lie down again."Listen,” I said, "Get up. Sit down again.”"Huh?” she said, rubbing her eyes, "Why? What happened?""Nothing. You tell me what happened. Tell me the story,” I said."So you will write it?""Yes,” I said, with a bit of hesitation."Good,” she said, and sat up again. The cross-legged position was back.Over the rest of the night, she told me the story that begins from the next page. It is a story about six people, three guys and three girls who worked at the Connexions Call Center. I chose to tell the story through Shyam's eyes. This is because after I met him, I found him closest to me as a person. The rest of the people and what happened that night - well, I will let Shyam tell you that.
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