tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8111459969403502362012-01-03T05:19:20.172-08:00rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.comBlogger231100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-59766028684469204222011-02-13T07:29:00.000-08:002011-02-14T10:24:35.971-08:00

When I was a small kid, I was in awe of my grandparents, for one main reason - my parents were not the boss with them. Their ability of talking back without getting sent to their rooms was almost God-like. Equally impressive was my grandfather's ability to conjure incredible tales of his adventures, like the time he came across a 10m long cobra or when he went to a village and drove away a tiger

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-89744858420365128212010-10-23T10:46:00.000-07:002010-11-15T15:57:59.458-08:00

पीपल के एक पेड़ पे थी नन्ही सी इक caterpillarसिमटी सी उसकी ज़िन्दगी थी अपने रेशमी कोष की गर्माहट में फिर एक सुबह टूटा ककूनगिरा पर्दा पलकों से चौंधया गयी आँखें उसकी सूरज की तीखी धूप सेनज़रें घुमायीं तो दिखा एक जहांअनजाना अज्ञात सा घबराई caterpillar लगी कराहने बचपन का वो गर्भ जब बिछड़ापाँव कुछ बड़े तो हुआ एहसास एक नए हल्केपन का पंखो का फड़फड़ाना लगा कुछ उन पहले कदमो जैसा लेने लगी है उड़ान वो अब

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-84636372439292794192010-10-08T08:09:00.000-07:002010-10-12T09:29:10.597-07:00

"Atleast take an autorickshaw", mom yells. A bit despairingly."I'll see", I murmur and lunge out of the house quickly. We both know I won't.Now no longer possessing the stomach of steel, a reputation effectively washed away during the numerous trips to the WC on my first day here, it was my only chance to prove that after spending two years in Netherlands, I still had it in me to go through the

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-58020920867684760922010-10-04T07:50:00.000-07:002010-10-10T03:56:22.044-07:00

As a child, I remember watching the night sky for hours (rather hour, sigh...early bedtimes), and knew that one day I would become an astronaut and see the extremes of the universe unaided by a telescope. Every distant light twinkled with opportunity and every passing night brought me one-day closer to my dream.As fate had it, this dream was soon dashed by the realities of growing up in a middle

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-88976963997186625682009-09-25T00:48:00.000-07:002009-10-13T00:50:02.283-07:00

You wake up with panic written all over your face, as you stare at the alarm clock which failed to go off after you snoozed it the 10th time. You are clearly gonna get a stink-eye from your manager when, being a lowly intern, you reach the office an hour later than everyone else. You rush through the ablutions, and are running on the street with hair still unkempt and shirt still untucked, when

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-22986835091920228312009-06-12T14:41:00.001-07:002009-06-12T14:50:34.871-07:00

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-60813514149340430362009-03-29T02:39:00.001-07:002009-03-29T05:22:04.295-07:00

Sometimes all you need for the world to seem alright is a ride on a bicycle, with sunlight playfully blinding your eyes, gentle wind stealing the sweat from your forehead, while Rabbi is singing about Bullah's identity crisis.And then you reach the class to find that the professor didn't show up.

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-29836243266535659832009-02-26T13:54:00.000-08:002009-02-28T03:41:20.489-08:00

The clock reads 8.30 AM, and the room is filled with the jarring noise of the alarm. In the following few minutes, I am supposed to wake up, hit the snooze, steal a few more minutes of sleep, and then finally surrender to my daily schedule. IF I was asleep in the first place, that is.I flick off the alarm, while hastily typing, trying to piece together something that makes sense, atleast

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-32458080180632279992008-08-14T10:56:00.000-07:002008-08-14T11:06:33.173-07:00

From oblivion to experienceFrom permanence to transienceFrom the shed to the openFrom the familiar to the foreignFrom plans to actionFrom summer affairs to separationFrom existence to verveFrom a straight road to a swerveFrom hope to ambitionFrom dreams to realizationFrom mundane to adventureFrom an old August to a new September From one world to another It seems to be such a long journey

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-79506170295677605202008-07-30T07:33:00.000-07:002008-07-30T11:16:51.622-07:00

The wind is rustling violently through the trees, the heavens lightening up repeatedly accompanied every time by a very familiar sounding thunder. A distant, incessant ringing of a bell fills the air already leaden with gloom. Half-eaten chapattis and sabzi watch idly from the sidelines, as the family is huddled closely together, rapt in attention. I take a look at the clock and yawn, rather

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-84261838753869331302008-07-08T12:10:00.000-07:002008-07-30T11:07:00.841-07:00

A Few excerpts from my diary while on the move. Most of them were recorded while traveling in a bus, my handwriting transporting me temporarily to those blissful, ignorant (and shaky) times of 2nd grade - In India, whenever someone is going abroad for a long time, there are quite a few rituals to be followed during the last few months at home. One has to earn up some last-minute good karma by

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-70604849676204977352008-03-24T10:01:00.000-07:002008-07-30T11:14:02.798-07:00

Like in past, my present halat is best summarized by this beautiful song. Except the part about driving a car, fast and far, because I'm still not allowed to!Lemon TreeBy Fool's GardenI'm sitting here in the boring roomIt's just another rainy sunday afternoonI'm wasting my timeI got nothing to doI'm hanging aroundI'm waiting for youBut nothing ever happens and I wonderI'm driving around in my

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-24429630363474118272008-02-03T08:12:00.000-08:002008-07-30T11:07:00.841-07:00

* This was written on a round trip from Delhi to Gwalior last year.** The guy in the photo is not me.Train journeys are all about possibilities. I take one, towards the end of December last year from Delhi to Gwalior. My train, Bhopal Shatabdi, is scheduled to leave at 7.10 on a wintry morning and I leave from home at 6.30, running late as usual. During the ride from home to station on an

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-4930483495524979632007-10-27T11:23:00.001-07:002008-07-30T11:10:52.610-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a chicken who lived in a dusty little pen with his family. The chicken was very inquisitive by nature and, though he was very proud of his pen, he always wanted to take flight and reach beyond the fence, to see the entire farm with his eyes.One day, the chicken woke up to find all the birds and animals gathered in the field. On going closer, he saw a duck called "

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-60999746261021154522007-09-01T02:54:00.000-07:002008-07-30T11:10:52.610-07:00

Its 2 o clock in the night, and I am up writing this stupid post for a group of vella people to enjoy it the next morning. But I can't help it. A bloody mosquito has been buzzing his ass off, making short work of my sleep. A sudden thought: if I was granted a magical wish, I'd wish for this mosquito to be larger, so that I could snap its beak or whatever and stick it into its ass. But then I

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-62310266651431004352007-08-17T05:48:00.000-07:002008-07-30T11:05:47.910-07:00

The previous two posts were reportedly a bit solemn and against the spirit of the blog, so I am writing this one just to "wash" away the sobering effect.Though I had been anticipating it, the gravity of this issue "pressed" on me when I woke up to my first morning in Delft. I pondered hard about this while brushing my teeth, and a realization zipped past me that millions of people must have

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-16735598249190158402007-08-14T08:42:00.000-07:002008-07-30T11:14:02.798-07:00

For my next entry, I will just be copy-pasting the lyrics of a song. I dont think any other group of lines could summarize my feelings these days, more beautifully.Supermanby Lazlo BaneSoundtrack - ScrubsOut the door just in timeHead down the 405Gotta meet the new boss by 8 amThe phone rings in the carThe wife is working hardShe's running late tonight againWellI know what I've been toldYou gotta

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-38559678635100266952007-08-10T15:08:00.000-07:002008-07-30T11:07:00.842-07:00

Hmm... So two weeks up in Netherlands. Time for another entry.The calender says its been 15 days in Delft. I can't really tell. Time is such a funny thing, sometimes it just flashes past you, and sometimes just refuses to budge, like now...During these two weeks, I've come to know the pleasant and the not-so-pleasant aspects of life here. Firstly, all this cycling presented too much exercise for

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-45189391221949713212007-07-28T02:15:00.000-07:002008-07-30T11:07:00.843-07:00

A part of Delft as seen from my LabSo after much deliberations, I reached Delft. I had to carry more than 40 kgs of luggage in different forms from the airport to the railway station, board a train, change trains from Hague, and then get down at Delft. It was f**king tiring!!I'll be living at 51, Casper Fagelstraat. Its one of the

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-37708096483824270402007-07-25T23:22:00.000-07:002008-07-30T11:07:00.843-07:00

Its 4.15 in the morning.On my right, Sun was making a sheepish appearance, rising from a blanket of clouds, probably to steal a last glance. The sky was blushing pink, and if you tried you could hear a faint chirping. Passengers were slowly filling up the plane, lugging at their bags wistfully, drowsiness creeping from the corners of their eyes. They somewhat resembled the last benchers sitting

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-12307394288444320852007-07-03T11:20:00.000-07:002008-07-30T11:07:00.844-07:00

Though I ranted about a very desolate existance till now, there have been a few bright spots here and there. The last one happened in Dec, 2006. The Adventure of the Missed FlightStarring - Nihit Bajaj, some nameless Indian Airlines official, a couple of extras and yours truly.Location - Kuala Lumpur International AirportI was lying at a beach along with a beautiful chinki bandi. A gentle breeze

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-61591811271853317322007-07-03T03:35:00.000-07:002007-07-03T04:00:08.294-07:00

While people around me were getting crazy about blogs, I fought the temptation to take the leap. And the result is that after spending half an hour, feverishly typing and pressing check repeatedly, I found to my dismay that all cool names were taken. Apparently, individuality is overrated.

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811145996940350236.post-65177848924075947052007-07-02T23:04:00.000-07:002008-07-30T11:10:52.611-07:00

For reasons unknown, i resisted starting a blog for quite some time. And for reasons unknown, I finally gave in...Everybody around me started posting their day-to-day musing & millings online and felt very smug about it. I wondered why?? I wondered what needs of a human being, tangible or intangible, were being satiated by a thread-bare, public online journal. And when I couldnt come with any "

rider of rohanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05776295606545107178noreply@blogger.com3