<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1224151909368165595</id><updated>2011-12-13T00:00:38.160-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wonder Ponder</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jijeesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18422195072119113246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1224151909368165595.post-522132475609103769</id><published>2011-12-12T23:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T00:00:38.173-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My name is Jijeesh</title><content type='html'>*Phone Rings*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hello&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unknown Person: Hello... I'm Mr.Blah Blah, your father's friend. You are his son right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes Uncle. I'm my father's son. He is not here. Can I take a message.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unknown Person: What is your name son ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: My name is Jijeesh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unknown Person: What ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Jijeeeeesh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unknown Person: What ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Ji-jeee-sh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unknown Person: Rajesh huh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: No uncle, J-I-J-E-E-S-H&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unknown Person: Oh...Jignesh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yes Uncle...My name is Jignesh and I like Dhokla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unknown Person: What ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: One kilowatt is equal to one thousand watts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unknown Person: Ok Jignesh... The line is not clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Ok Uncle... I'm off to Gujrat now. Will talk to you later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1224151909368165595-522132475609103769?l=jijeeshr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/feeds/522132475609103769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1224151909368165595&amp;postID=522132475609103769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/522132475609103769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/522132475609103769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/2011/12/my-name-is-jijeesh.html' title='My name is Jijeesh'/><author><name>Jijeesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18422195072119113246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1224151909368165595.post-5113902517486663535</id><published>2011-08-30T00:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T05:24:47.968-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Satellite Phone Call</title><content type='html'>Scene: My place...9 PM IST&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some good Chinese, Coke, Gtalk &amp; Westlife(Seasons in the Sun).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Chat Window*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;High intensity chat session&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: let me see if we can work things out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;X(Girl from far far away land): I know things will work out. Please give "us" another chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I don't want to get into anything now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;X: Where are you now ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;X: I'm in the middle of nowhere. I want to talk to you right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Do not call me now. (Meaning: Call me now)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;X: Please I need to hear your voice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: My voice ?? Why ??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;X: Please don't be funnny now. I'm serious&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Tring Tring...Tring Tring* (Yes my ringtone is also quite dramatic)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Satellite phone - Unknown number* (My first ever sat call)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intensity magnifies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It either one of the two below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A) Long lost love &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;B) Indian Intelligence calling me to Hire me (Bond... James Bond)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hello (Acting all cool)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voice: Hello&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: It's not clear...Can you speak up please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voice: Hello (Man's voice)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm pretty convinced that it's Indian Intelligence by now"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voice: Listen... I have 3 mins only. So hear out my instructions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Sir...Yes sir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voice: I need you to login to my email account and build a NFL team for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Who are you ??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Turns out I was expecting Mohini and Mohith Rao called. My first sat phone call down the drain".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#FML&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1224151909368165595-5113902517486663535?l=jijeeshr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/feeds/5113902517486663535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1224151909368165595&amp;postID=5113902517486663535' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/5113902517486663535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/5113902517486663535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-first-satellite-phone-call.html' title='My First Satellite Phone Call'/><author><name>Jijeesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18422195072119113246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1224151909368165595.post-1062088692078452373</id><published>2010-05-20T12:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T13:06:00.566-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aryan Dravidian Myth</title><content type='html'>Indians are descendents of two genetically diverse ancient populations, Ancestral South Indians and Ancestral North Indians, who respectively, came to the subcontinent 65,000 and 45,000 years ago. Ancestral North Indians, is closer to Middle Easterners, Central Asians, and Europeans. At some point in time these two groups, which don’t exist now, mixed and thus became Indian history. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZPNUyzYFqGg/S_WS9kDDGyI/AAAAAAAAAM4/yYBGqUn9IQU/s1600/India_map_HighlightsNorth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 318px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZPNUyzYFqGg/S_WS9kDDGyI/AAAAAAAAAM4/yYBGqUn9IQU/s320/India_map_HighlightsNorth.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473442508484844322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aryan invasion theory states that around the middle of the 4th millennium an “unknown disturbance” triggered Indo Europeans tribes in Central Asia on a trip across the continent. These nomadic people wandered around looking for a place where there is water,sun and food for their cattle. They reached India, around 1500 – 1200 BCE and during the journey “forgot” about their wanderings through Iran and central asia. These Indo Europeans mixed with the native Dravidians, but 3500 years later, those divisions are still exploited by politicians.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZPNUyzYFqGg/S_WTZFzdDFI/AAAAAAAAANA/VZYeEMqAK_A/s1600/2277306278_f9944b8e23.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZPNUyzYFqGg/S_WTZFzdDFI/AAAAAAAAANA/VZYeEMqAK_A/s320/2277306278_f9944b8e23.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473442981402709074" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are differences between caste groups and between Dravidian speakers and Indo European speaking population, but despite those differences, they are closer to each other than to outsiders like east asians or europeans. The cause being, after the intial event, only few external genes mixed into the Indian gene pool. Thus the Dravidian Jaylalitha and the Indo European Rani Mukherjee are not different genetically or in simple words: Aryan Dravidian divide did not happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1224151909368165595-1062088692078452373?l=jijeeshr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/feeds/1062088692078452373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1224151909368165595&amp;postID=1062088692078452373' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/1062088692078452373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/1062088692078452373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/2010/05/aryan-dravidian-myth.html' title='Aryan Dravidian Myth'/><author><name>Jijeesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18422195072119113246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZPNUyzYFqGg/S_WS9kDDGyI/AAAAAAAAAM4/yYBGqUn9IQU/s72-c/India_map_HighlightsNorth.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1224151909368165595.post-531994802661631099</id><published>2009-11-30T23:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T23:46:17.159-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Men Will Be Men</title><content type='html'>I have a friend who believes a guy and a girl can only be good friends if the guy or girl secretly nurtured a crush on either. Is this true?? This is not about opposite sex bonding…this is about the same sex bonding or ‘male bonding’, which has been dying a natural death. And this post meanders like a river. If you are a focused on anyone in life …stop reading. Other Neanderthals can read …&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my father was young, a man had many other men as friends. And one among them would be his best pal. He would be the one guy with whom everything would be discussed and shared – sometimes even that maroon, cotton undies bought each time he visited the city.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then those were the days. I was speaking to a 10 year old and he says he has a girl friend. “But you are a boy, why is your best friend a girl.” I asked the ten-year-old. He called me gay and ran away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was probably inspired by the Raymond ad in which every male model comes with a hot lady in his arms, and the punch line goes: Raymonds…For the Complete Man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Male-Male bonding which we would indulge in as younger beings is no longer available. And the art of learning the different uses of beer, cigarette playing cards has forever been lost. Men team up with women and form a bonding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wondering if I am being jealous here??… I am not at all jealous looking at those long-legged, curvy structured, tightly busted blondes that go around with handsome men like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know one super stud nicknamed Pra. Legend has it that he has never spent a paisa on any man, but has lost a fortune buying things for ladies and impressing them.&lt;br /&gt;I asked…. “Why can’t you have a man for a friend?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What would I get out of men? Some advice, some adult jokes, a pat on my back and some body odor. But this lady here hugs me (he put this up in a subtle way though I know what he meant) and consoles me whenever I am sad…and I am sad most of the time.” He smirks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I managed to pull his Girl friend across and asked her: “So, how is it having a Boy friend instead of a Girl friend?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“He keeps talking about vehicles. And when he is not talking abt them, he talks about sports. But it is fine till he takes me shopping and drops me back home.” She knew what she was up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Older men still believe a man needs another man for company.&lt;br /&gt;A standard reply is all I got for the question why??  Because men have balls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1224151909368165595-531994802661631099?l=jijeeshr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/feeds/531994802661631099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1224151909368165595&amp;postID=531994802661631099' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/531994802661631099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/531994802661631099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/2009/11/men-will-be-men.html' title='Men Will Be Men'/><author><name>Jijeesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18422195072119113246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1224151909368165595.post-699428391529843237</id><published>2008-11-03T09:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T11:05:33.648-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Desh Drohi</title><content type='html'>Raj Thackeray is the founder and president of Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (Maharashtra Renaissance Party), which is a regional party in the state of Maharashtra in India. He is the nephew of Shiv Sena chief Bal Thackeray. He recently became a controversial political figure in India due to his rhetorical speech against people from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar; this includes statements against actor Amitabh Bachchan and the Mumbai Police Officer .He blamed north Indians immigration into the state of Maharastra as the reason for a shortage of jobs for the local Maharashtrians. This probably is a major controversy which happened in the recent past. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The controversy doesn’t seem to die down anytime soon with Railway Minister Lalu Prasad Yadav  threatening resignations of his Mps, Mlas and Mlcs if  Raj Thackeray is not arrested. All I would like to say is that Mr.Lalu Prasad yadav is a wonderful Railway Minister and he should stick to being that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as his revolt against Raj Thackeray goes, I have a perfect replacement for Mr.Lalu Prasad Yadav. This man be warned is another yadav named Raj Kumar Singh Yadav aka Kamaal R Khan aka KRK(as in Shah Rukh Khan being SRK).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZPNUyzYFqGg/SQ9C_Wxr40I/AAAAAAAAAAc/jqBlAw9-Rqw/s1600-h/Kamaal+R+Khan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 318px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZPNUyzYFqGg/SQ9C_Wxr40I/AAAAAAAAAAc/jqBlAw9-Rqw/s320/Kamaal+R+Khan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264500145632568130" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raj Kumar Singh Yadav a graduate in the Hindi heartland, comes to Mumbai to earn his living.  But there he is exposed to the barefaced chauvinism of the local population who hold his poverty and his migrantness against him. After some “locals” attempt to beat him up (but end up on their backs instead) he thunders the following lines&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Jitne nafrat humhare liye tumhare  dil main  hain , usse zyada pyar tumhare liye humare  seene main hain. Kabhi UP Bihar aake dekhna, mehman ko bhagwan samajhte hain hum”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other words, the amount of hatred that the goons have for the Bhaiyyas is surpassed by the love that the Bhaiyyas have for the goons. That is evidenced by the fact that Bhaiyyas come to Mumbai out of their love for the locals and not the other way round. As our hero is framed for being a terrorist and a campaign of violent hatred is initiated, the essential question behind the headlines is framed simply.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aaj tumhare dar se Mumbai choroon. Kal kisi aur ke dar se Dilli chorun. Phir ek din kahoge Hindustan chor do"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-1207aaa98469986" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v14.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D01207aaa98469986%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331250060%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D11A226E6988C99345B6A208A119CB8202FD7636.5E962100E82EC4FEC320BC0FC8F5EB163FF1D479%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D1207aaa98469986%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DOch3-7y8dhlUp_0_MLoMFhRhfW4&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v14.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D01207aaa98469986%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331250060%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D11A226E6988C99345B6A208A119CB8202FD7636.5E962100E82EC4FEC320BC0FC8F5EB163FF1D479%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D1207aaa98469986%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DOch3-7y8dhlUp_0_MLoMFhRhfW4&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not just with world shaking dialogues like “Aye inspector, mera naam Raj Kumar Singh Yadav hain aur Yadav sirf raja hota hain, bhikari kabhi naheen banta” our hero also strikes back with flying fists, thundering kicks, shooting pistols and most importantly with the mind boggling “Bhaiya Thrust” wherein he gets down on his knees thus lulling his opponents into thinking he is surrendering, then slides forwards, delivering a bunker-busting to the adversary’s “vada pavs”. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZPNUyzYFqGg/SQ9INti-lcI/AAAAAAAAAAk/SFU_1VhOeSo/s1600-h/Bhaiya+Thrust.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 138px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZPNUyzYFqGg/SQ9INti-lcI/AAAAAAAAAAk/SFU_1VhOeSo/s320/Bhaiya+Thrust.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264505889821201858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be it Goonda Raj or any other Raj…. We  have only one “Maharaj” and that without any doubt is Mr. Raj Kumar Singh Yadav aka KRK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S:- Do not miss watching the video !!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1224151909368165595-699428391529843237?l=jijeeshr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=1207aaa98469986&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/feeds/699428391529843237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1224151909368165595&amp;postID=699428391529843237' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/699428391529843237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/699428391529843237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/2008/11/desh-drohi.html' title='Desh Drohi'/><author><name>Jijeesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18422195072119113246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZPNUyzYFqGg/SQ9C_Wxr40I/AAAAAAAAAAc/jqBlAw9-Rqw/s72-c/Kamaal+R+Khan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1224151909368165595.post-7090113426103255809</id><published>2008-09-13T16:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T17:01:31.848-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The White Saree</title><content type='html'>&lt;meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"&gt;&lt;meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"&gt;&lt;meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"&gt;&lt;link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CJijeesh%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"&gt;&lt;link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CJijeesh%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"&gt;&lt;link rel="colorSchemeMapping" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CJijeesh%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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&lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable 	{mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; 	mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; 	mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; 	mso-style-noshow:yes; 	mso-style-priority:99; 	mso-style-qformat:yes; 	mso-style-parent:""; 	mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; 	mso-para-margin-top:0in; 	mso-para-margin-right:0in; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	mso-para-margin-left:0in; 	line-height:115%; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;It’s been a while since I posted something new. It’s mainly because of this traumatic experience I went through, when I had been to Kerala recently. I never mentioned a word about this to anybody fearing what the consequence would be. Now that I cannot bear it anymore, I thought it would be better of sharing it with people. Most of you might have seen movies like Exorcist, Exorcism of Emily Rose etc. Have you ever imagined yourself being in one such story?&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was walking alone across the empty street one night. The wind was blowing hard. I could hear the rustling sounds of leaves. It was around 7:30, getting darker with no lights on the street. Strangely for some reason there was no soul on the road either. I was going by the fields when I heard a voice, a faint one. It was a woman's, asking for help. The voice had the sense of urgency. I wasn't sure whether to go ahead and provide help or to carry on with my work. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was determined to help. I went towards the direction of the voice. The voice became louder as I went deeper. It was coming from somewhere deep inside that field. The field was covered with lots of water. I entered the field, knee-deep into the mud, dragged my feet across the swamp not worrying about the clothes. It was totally dark by then. I could hardly see anything. After I pushed myself a little deeper into the field I could trace out something white in color, amidst the darkness. It was a woman, wearing a saree, lying down. She was lying beside someone, I could not see clearly whom. She saw me coming and rushed towards me. I was taken aback a little. She shouted " help me ... my husband ...he was bitten by a snake... please do something" I got the picture now. I rushed towards the man lying on the floor. He was wearing a shirt and pants and was lying with his belly touching the ground. I went near by to get a look and turned him so that he would face me. It was a mannequin, a stuffed one used to scare crows. On looking at that I was shocked beyond surprise. My heart was pounding. I was unable to turn back. I could hear a wicked laughter from behind. The laugh faded giving me enough courage to turn my head and look back. She was not seen anywhere. I turned back towards the dummy and there she was, lying on the floor at the place where the dummy used to be, with a cynical smile. She looked straight into my eyes, raising her eyebrows, which said, “were you searching for me?" My heart skipped a beat. I was frozen. Instinctively, took few steps back and someone laid their hand on me from behind. I shrieked out and turned back to find out that was the scare-crow-mannequin. It was moving, actually mocking me, laughing. I started to run away from the field. The crop, now looked like wild grass, was moving violently. The crop was trying to lock me as I was running across them. To my horror, my feet suddenly stopped moving. I did not know why. It was hard to move them. Though I had the urge to run as fast as an athlete, my feet weren't giving in. I wondered why this was happening and took a look at my feet. Somebody was holding them from behind! I was kicking hard and struggling to get my feet off those hands. I heard someone shouting in pain, actually scolding me, for something I have done. That voice seemed familiar. It was my cousin. I was wondering..."How I could hear him now?  Where am I?" I tried to look around. Nobody was holding my feet nor was it dark around. I wasn't standing either. It was then I realized my eyes were closed all this time and I'm opening them just now ... I was in my room, sleeping.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to explain that bizarre dream to my cousin, but he wouldn't listen to me. He still thinks I kicked him because he woke me up while I was sleeping. I continue to sleep and dream hoping that I would get another one, probably a better one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1224151909368165595-7090113426103255809?l=jijeeshr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/feeds/7090113426103255809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1224151909368165595&amp;postID=7090113426103255809' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/7090113426103255809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/7090113426103255809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/2008/09/white-saree.html' title='The White Saree'/><author><name>Jijeesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18422195072119113246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1224151909368165595.post-7996499944477215568</id><published>2008-08-24T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T10:32:43.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life= Karma Or Luck</title><content type='html'>Have you ever wondered about the statement “Life comes a full circle”. There are so many people who cheat, steal, betray, lie etc basically do things which aren’t considered virtuous, but they do not seem to be punished always. Sometimes, they are never punished at all. In fact, my observation has been that it has been the other way round with these people. They seem to be happy always &amp;amp; enjoy life to the fullest. Luck seems to be always in their favor &amp;amp; I really wonder “does every dog really have its day?” I still haven’t found the answer to these questions that haunt me so often.&lt;br /&gt;My mom often says, “Do good and it will come back to you”.&lt;br /&gt;Well, I am still waiting. I read somewhere that “what goes around, comes around”. I searched the Internet for definitions of karma &amp;amp; tried to understand the principle on which it functions. "The law of karma, it read, refers to the law of action and reaction, also called the law of cause and effect. This law states that what we sow we shall reap in this or future lives. Benevolent actions (punyakarma or sukarma) will bring loving reactions. Selfish, hateful acts (papakarma or kukarma) will bring suffering. Every action that we perform in life, every word we speak, even every thought that we think, has its reaction. I am still not convinced. I feel that many people get away with wrong doings of various kinds very easily. So then, should we call it destiny then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, an individual is really nasty to me, so I feel the impulse to retaliate and be nasty to him. But the law of karma &amp;amp; more importantly a lot of my elders say that if I follow that track I will create a new unseemly karma to face in the future. There is no need for me to be the instrument to return a karmic reaction to someone else. I think it’s better to let the law of karma take its own course without my intervention, which will generally happen through some other person with less self-control who does not understand this law of life.’&lt;br /&gt;But then that person is always happy. Irrespective of the fact that I do something to retaliate or not!&lt;br /&gt;How do you explain that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1224151909368165595-7996499944477215568?l=jijeeshr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/feeds/7996499944477215568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1224151909368165595&amp;postID=7996499944477215568' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/7996499944477215568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/7996499944477215568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/2008/08/life-karma-or-luck.html' title='Life= Karma Or Luck'/><author><name>Jijeesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18422195072119113246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1224151909368165595.post-1026068608324726368</id><published>2008-08-13T04:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T02:32:41.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;A long time back in Rome,Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and families. He outlawed marriage for young men. Saint Valentine, realizing the injustice defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret. When Valentine's actions were discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Every February, across the country, candy, flowers, and gifts are exchanged between loved ones, all in the name of Saint Valentine .14th February -Valentine's Day or rather Prem Divas as it should be called to suit the Indian culture (or is it to pacify the vagaries of Thackeray?) is celebrated to commemorate the anniversary of Valentine's death. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Half the guys having different ideas (mostly evil) end up celebrating Valentine’s Day without having a hint as to why it is celebrated. Girls usually have a high adrenaline flow on this particular day.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;They tend to get romantic right from the start of the day .They start dreaming about their loved ones running towards them in slow motion with hell loads of gifts and red roses. With all the evil ideas flowing through a guys mind and with the girls being dreamy, they end up doing things which cannot be mentioned.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;On one such Valentine’s Day I had been anxiously awaiting the evening when I would set forth from home to meet somebody-that somebody with whom I was destined to spend this beautiful day's evening. I had butterflies in my stomach. I had firmly decided that today I was going to leave a part of me with that person. And then, dekhte dekhte the shaam came to an end-the butterflies which had been fluttering in my stomach went to sleep. The evening's activities had left a dull ache on my lips :-)) and some small stains on my shirt. Wondered what mom would have to say when she saw my shirt. How the hell was I going to take that red color off? But all that was put to rest the moment I reached home. Mom fussed about with an ice-pack and I put my provogue shirt into a soap bath. I realized that I had lived through the wisdom tooth extraction successfully. As promised, a part of me is now lying in my dentist's basket.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1224151909368165595-1026068608324726368?l=jijeeshr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/feeds/1026068608324726368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1224151909368165595&amp;postID=1026068608324726368' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/1026068608324726368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/1026068608324726368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-first-time.html' title='My First Time'/><author><name>Jijeesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18422195072119113246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1224151909368165595.post-118175739920380855</id><published>2008-08-08T12:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T13:19:38.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Over-Friendly Telugu Giant</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’ am probably the most laziest person in this world. I’ am sure no one out there would wake up at 6 in the evening rather then 6 in the morning. I’ am used to all the advice i get from my dad about "Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise". I say i'am too young to be bothered about my health. I seriously don’t know how u'll get wise be waking up early....Probably it's all about the daily morning talks on TV which i miss of some old man(Semi nude) proclaiming his teachings are good which i give a damn about.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About the wealth I do save a lot. Especially when you’re dating someone. U get out of home only after 6. And usually gals have a Deathtime of getin back home by 7-7:30. So you don’t have to spend a lot during that time. But incase she stay's back you are dead. So the wealth is anyways the same.&lt;br /&gt;So basically i just continue sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways that was useless....I was just trying to express my feelings out there. In case u guys want to sleep till 6. I'am just encouraging u out here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geting back to what i came to post in here.I thought i'll write about some light hearted stuff. This incident happened in one of my classes in which we had a special guest lecturer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lecture was going on during one such class. Tina, a sweet, bubbly, ash eyed was yapping away to glory about the latest affair between two of our class mates, in the row just ahead of me. After requesting her to hush up a couple of times, she would not or probably could not stop. She was one of our gang mates, so I pulled her pony tail down, till she was looking up to me, horizontally; bringing her face real close to mine. I whispered in her ears “please shut up”. She got the message, smiled and kept quite for rest of the class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jakaiah, a six and a half foot, volley ball college team captain, was also attending the lecture. Every one used to call him affectionately “kaka”. As he belonged to a Andhra village, he knew only telugu. Jakaiah(I’am still wondering why his parents named him that) was very found of being called kaka. Little did he know that it also meant “crow” in Malayalam. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jakaiah must have noticed my pony tail pulling. He came and towered over me, and asked in telugu : “Neeku aa poori telusa?” (Do you know that girl?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said: “I met her in class here”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jakaiah: “Nuvvu aa poori tho dost yella ayyindi ?” (How did you make friends with her?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: “I said 'hello' to her.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jakaiah: “Hello chepute dost aavtunda ?” (Does saying hello make a friend ?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said yes and that was the end of the conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i came in the next day, my friends came running upto me, requesting me to skip the class and make myself invisible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They told me Jakaiah was furious and was looking out for me! I was jinxed, why would he be looking out for me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A firm hand grabbed my shoulder, sending a sharp spike of pain down my back. It was Jakaiah. He said: “nuvvu aypoyindi ra ayya&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;” (You are dead). All the friends started to giggle; angered he chased them, calling me to watch out my steps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was later told what happened in my absence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before the next class started, just after talking to me he had said hello to Tina. She had politely replied back and had smiled back good natured-ly at him. Jakaiah presumed that he was friends with her and soon afterwards had tugged at her pony tail!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had slapped him back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thus Jakaiah felt betrayed by me, taking that I had misguided him!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever we met he always said: “nuvvu aypoyindi ra ayya !”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;P.S:- If there are any jakaiah’s reading this I’ am really sorry.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I totally understand how it feels to have such a name. After all my name also starts with J and ends with H. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1224151909368165595-118175739920380855?l=jijeeshr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/feeds/118175739920380855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1224151909368165595&amp;postID=118175739920380855' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/118175739920380855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/118175739920380855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/2008/08/over-friendly-telugu-giant.html' title='The Over-Friendly Telugu Giant'/><author><name>Jijeesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18422195072119113246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1224151909368165595.post-7723982645216206827</id><published>2008-08-06T02:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T02:08:58.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Art of Attracting Girls</title><content type='html'>The art of attracting girls is interesting. I have always found it to be amusing for I have seen guys trying to do so many things the moment they see a girl! From quickly combing their hair to chewing fragrant bubble gums, there are many things that the guys do to get that ever-elusive attention of girls!&lt;br /&gt;One morning I missed my college bus so I immediately called up my friend(lets name him Mr.X)..Mr.X is a regular rtc(road transport corporation)  traveler who happens to assume that he’s a craze among girls. We caught our bus and we started traveling..The guy of our interest, was sweetly surprised to see some North Indian girls getting into the bus and his body language changed so much that one can't miss it, certainly I did not miss it.&lt;br /&gt;To his great happiness, some girls stood just near him. He was mightily pleased and felt like a hero. The result? He wanted to get the attention of a particular girl immediately! So quick was his reaction upon seeing a girl, he was fast becoming restless. The girl wanted to pass the money to get her ticket.Our hero immediately put his hand in front of her to get the money. The girl looked at him as if looking at a beggar seeking alms! Anyway, she gave the money and got the ticket. Our hero was so happy to have helped her.&lt;br /&gt;May be he was encouraged by the fact that the girl did not move away from his side! Eureka! He got a good idea, got up from his seat, and invited his heroine to take the seat. Reaction? Positive! She took the seat gleefully and gave a big and beautiful smile to him! Our hero by now was floating in the air. Assuming that the girl was head over heels for him he put his foot forward and started messing with the girl. The girl gave him a cold look. After that, whatever he tried to get her attention nothing came off it. At the end, our hero not only lost his heroine but also his valuable seat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1224151909368165595-7723982645216206827?l=jijeeshr.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/feeds/7723982645216206827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1224151909368165595&amp;postID=7723982645216206827' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/7723982645216206827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1224151909368165595/posts/default/7723982645216206827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jijeeshr.blogspot.com/2008/08/art-of-attracting-girls.html' title='The Art of Attracting Girls'/><author><name>Jijeesh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18422195072119113246</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>
