<?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-24508074</id><updated>2012-03-06T23:49:37.309-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kaleidoscope</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>534</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7538371802482361423</id><published>2012-03-06T23:49:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-03-06T23:49:37.318-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pink Honda Civic</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;There is a community college veryclose to my house. Each day on my way to office or on my back home from office(that’s four times a day considering I come home for lunch), I have to pass bythis college in my car. There is no compound or partition that separates the parkinglot from the road and hence there is complete visibility of all cars in theparking lot.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;On couple of instances when Iwas passing through the college, I noticed a pink Honda Civic car entering intothe college campus. The striking color boggled me because I had not seen a pinkcar before in my life. As can be guessed, there were few gals in the car and nodoubt the car belonged to one of them. I was intrigued about the obsession ofthe color pink with gals. In fact, I happened to see this particular car enterthe campus a couple of times at the same time I was passing through the collegecampus.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;After this incident, perhaps becauseit was easy to distinguish it amongst 100 visible cars or perhaps because i wantedto humor myself daily, each time I passed through the college I gave a quickglance over all the cars in the parking lot and searched for that pink Hondacivic. Usually I found it within a few seconds. This became a game of sorts. Iwould only get about 4-5 seconds for scanning through the parking lot, and I wouldbe driving at about 25 mph on a single-lane two-way road. So, with these slightchallenges, it was a quirky self-made game with no gain no loss, and yet thistiny desire to win. Something to make life interesting, that wee bit more.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;As it happened, it was notthis quest for pink Honda Civic that eventually gave me joy. This search for avehicle-in-the-parking-lot, in fact, brought back memories from a distant past.During my college days, I had a crush on a girl. I was too shy to talk to heranyways but I knew the two-wheeler in which she used to come to college. She wasn’tin my class so the only way I knew if she had come to college or not was toquickly glance through the parking lot once a day to check if her two-wheelerwas present. Seeing her vehicle in the parking lot was almost as good as seeingher, some kind of an assurance that the day might turn favorably so for me toget a glimpse of her. It was like a hope, daily. Something that made me lookforward to in life. It was a special moment – this searching through theparking lot. It was a tense moment too. No vehicle meant she either hadn’t yetcome to college or would not come. Which meant there was no hope of seeing herthat day. Which meant, it was a boring day!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Now, when I search for thispink car, I am remembered of all this teenage emotions and how strange it all feltthen. I don’t get all that excited now when my eyes finally latch on to the car inthe parking lot but I surely feel nice remembering those good old days backin college when my eyes latched on to that two-wheeler!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7538371802482361423?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7538371802482361423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7538371802482361423&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7538371802482361423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7538371802482361423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2012/03/pink-honda-civic.html' title='The Pink Honda Civic'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-4980603396127993733</id><published>2012-02-26T23:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-26T23:31:41.922-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sharing</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paavani was in great hunger. She kept repeating 'Mommom, mommom'. So, my wife got some snacks for all three of us. We all sat down. Paavani was in utter excitement. She kept reaching towards the snacks, and not taking her eyes off it. My wife and I asked her to wait till the snacks were placed in the plate. She waited impatiently, all through jumping and trying to grab the eateries. Finally, we gave her the plate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First thing she did was to take what she could in her tiny fingers and put it in my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;My wife and I realized that she has already grown enough to reciprocate feelings such as love and sharing.&lt;br /&gt;We were speechless.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-4980603396127993733?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/4980603396127993733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=4980603396127993733&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4980603396127993733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4980603396127993733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2012/02/sharing.html' title='Sharing'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-9061914819149891985</id><published>2012-02-15T21:28:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-15T21:28:55.191-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Day Thought</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;A spouse can either make a life or break a life.&lt;br /&gt;I am glad my valentine made my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-9061914819149891985?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/9061914819149891985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=9061914819149891985&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/9061914819149891985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/9061914819149891985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2012/02/valentines-day-thought.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day Thought'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-215948744960579585</id><published>2012-02-06T00:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-06T00:13:55.505-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More or Less...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I got my first salary over nine years ago. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I could not figure out what to do with so much moneysuddenly.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;It covered up an entire year of my four-year Engineering coursefees.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;It amazed me that within a year of employment, &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I could repay back my parents financially whatever they hadspent on me for 22 years of my life.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;My salary gave me immense happiness and amazement.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;My salary now is pretty much the same as my first salary,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;But in a currency that is almost fifty times more than myfirst salary’s currency.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;But after filling in the EMI, family maintenance andother expenses,&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I ponder if my savings can satisfy my child’s complete educationand&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;If I can lead a comfortable post-retirement life withgrowing inflation.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;My salary now makes me think and ponder.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Less was More then...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;More is Less now...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Strange, &lt;a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/more%20or%20less" target="_blank"&gt;more or less&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-215948744960579585?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/215948744960579585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=215948744960579585&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/215948744960579585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/215948744960579585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2012/02/more-or-less.html' title='More or Less...'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-2669441950381555670</id><published>2012-02-05T23:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T23:34:33.317-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Universal" Relationships</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Astrophysics explains &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Bang_cosmology" target="_blank"&gt;Big Bang&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metric_expansion_of_space" target="_blank"&gt;Metric expansion of space&lt;/a&gt;in clearer detail (but wiki will do for now!). The concept, anyways, if I understandcorrectly, is that each particle in the universe is moving away from oneanother constantly. The phrase ‘moving away from one another’ somehow struck meas something that can be related to our lives too.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;When we are infants, we are so close to our parents. So muchso that they are our everything. Then there are siblings with whom we startsharing. Right then, our universe has expanded. Couple of years later when westart going to school, we make new relationships. We get to know our teachers,we make friends. Our universe has further expanded. We share secrets with ourfriends and hence parents have got distanced. When we change schools or whenour friends change schools, that’s when our universe expands further. True, weare still friends, but the common ground (school, in this case) is no longercommon. We go to college and make more new friends. The ‘school’ friends becamea past while the ‘college’ friends became closer. Then we go to work. Our day-to-dayinteraction with colleagues makes them as our new friends and the ‘college’friends are now a past. Colleagues quit, people join other companies, more andmore new relationships, at the cost of old relationships distancing itself – verymuch like the Universe and its expansion theory. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;What starts as physical distance becomes inherently a cosmicdistance too. Well, I guess, nothing can be done about it, and it’s the way oflife. The Universe is just mirroring our relationships. However, thanks to the onset ofSocial Networks, everyone whom we know (or knew in the past) has come a tad mentallycloser. Surprisingly, there is a hypothesis about Universe shrinking too – and itscalled &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Crunch" target="_blank"&gt;Big Crunch&lt;/a&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-2669441950381555670?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/2669441950381555670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=2669441950381555670&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2669441950381555670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2669441950381555670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2012/02/universal-relationships.html' title='&quot;Universal&quot; Relationships'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-9109512408299554045</id><published>2012-01-22T12:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-22T12:17:47.545-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jun 16, 1987 - Jan 21, 2012</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;My cousin &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/pradyumnap" target="_blank"&gt;Pradyumna&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n71wZauRsaI/TxxDRhCqEXI/AAAAAAAAFAY/-cSbrOf0JnU/s1600/390988_10150533919107518_789477517_10648043_1320671336_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n71wZauRsaI/TxxDRhCqEXI/AAAAAAAAFAY/-cSbrOf0JnU/s320/390988_10150533919107518_789477517_10648043_1320671336_n.jpg" width="304" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;:'-(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-9109512408299554045?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/9109512408299554045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=9109512408299554045&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/9109512408299554045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/9109512408299554045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2012/01/jun-16-1987-jan-21-2012_22.html' title='Jun 16, 1987 - Jan 21, 2012'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n71wZauRsaI/TxxDRhCqEXI/AAAAAAAAFAY/-cSbrOf0JnU/s72-c/390988_10150533919107518_789477517_10648043_1320671336_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-2878043784299191622</id><published>2012-01-14T23:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-14T23:32:41.012-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ajji - Paavani - Suprabhatam</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;My maternal grandma was a big devotee of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Venkateswara" target="_blank"&gt;Lord Venkateshwara&lt;/a&gt;.One of the celebrated slokas on His Highness is &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6Mr7J-Zxow" target="_blank"&gt;Shri Venkateshwara Suprabhatam&lt;/a&gt;.As I have already indicated in one of my &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/05/sri-venkateshwara-suprabhatam.html" target="_blank"&gt;previous posts&lt;/a&gt;, it was a daily ritualto hear this sloka in her house, while being busy with morning tasks. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;As if by a strange cosmic connection, my daughter loves thissloka too. Although she is none too aware of the spirituality and divinity associatedwith the sloka, she is spellbound when she starts hearing it.Midway, the &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPrcBuWG9ns&amp;amp;feature=endscreen&amp;amp;NR=1" target="_blank"&gt;sloka changes its tone&lt;/a&gt;. At this, my daughter starts dancing in herown animated way.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I can’t help remembering &lt;i&gt;ajji&lt;/i&gt;. &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2007/04/tribute-to-ajji-thatha.html" target="_blank"&gt;If only she had lived a few more years&lt;/a&gt;, she would have been so happy seeing this spectacle. Perhaps sheis seeing even now...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-2878043784299191622?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/2878043784299191622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=2878043784299191622&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2878043784299191622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2878043784299191622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2012/01/ajji-paavani-suprabhatam.html' title='Ajji - Paavani - Suprabhatam'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7508287023735177307</id><published>2012-01-11T11:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T11:37:53.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blame it on 2012?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;As 2011 neared its end,&lt;br /&gt;Workload reduced,&lt;br /&gt;Morale raised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As 2012 started,&lt;br /&gt;Workload increased,&lt;br /&gt;Morale dipped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope Workload and Morale&lt;br /&gt;Stop trapezing between&lt;br /&gt;Zenith and Nadir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want a better 2012 &lt;br /&gt;Than the way it has started.&lt;br /&gt;Amen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7508287023735177307?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7508287023735177307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7508287023735177307&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7508287023735177307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7508287023735177307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2012/01/blame-it-on-2012.html' title='Blame it on 2012?'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-6352074155707010446</id><published>2012-01-04T23:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-04T23:34:03.747-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The 5 Minutes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I left my office cubicle today at about 7 pm to head home, the impending encounter with weather outside filled up my mind. Then, as I was walking towards the building exit, I realized that whatever is the weather outside (which was about 10-20 degrees Fahrenheit), the office temperature inside should always be around 70-75 degrees Fahrenheit even at 7 pm. Perhaps all through 24 hrs. Then I remembered someone rightly had pointed out that the colder regions are cons to the Global Warming because the thermostats have to up the temperature by about average 50 degrees during winter whereas in warmer regions, the air conditioners have to bring down the temperature down by average 30 degrees during summer. So, in all the colder regions, the energy utilization is more by average 20 degrees, which is bad for Global Warming. Meaning, if one has to fight for Global Warming, one has to move to a warmer region!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had come out of the building now and was walking towards my car. The office where I work is really huge. It hosts about 1000 folks which roughly translate to over 900 cars. So the car park is much, much bigger than the office space. There are lots upon lots of parking and one can walk miles together just through the multitude of car parks. Whenever I am driving towards or leaving office, I can see one particular car which is parked right at the end of the last parking lot. Perhaps the reason why this person parks the car at the very end is to have an extra bit of walking. Me? I try to find the closest possible parking space just so that my time in the open air is as less as possible in this teeth-chattering chill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This made me realize one more thing. As I finally started driving towards home, I recollected that my last few posts in the blog are all more or less talking about weather. But, in reality, the only time I experience the weather is from home to car, car to office, office to car and car to home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a 24 hour time period, this is less than 5 minutes...!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-6352074155707010446?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/6352074155707010446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=6352074155707010446&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6352074155707010446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6352074155707010446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2012/01/5-minutes.html' title='The 5 Minutes'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1199481416521355562</id><published>2012-01-04T09:53:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-04T09:56:07.371-05:00</updated><title type='text'>:-(</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y_tbuPkqwf8/TwRnsL1QC1I/AAAAAAAAFAE/5uTriU6IzPw/s1600/Weather.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="270" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y_tbuPkqwf8/TwRnsL1QC1I/AAAAAAAAFAE/5uTriU6IzPw/s400/Weather.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;My location? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;Search for second lowest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1199481416521355562?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1199481416521355562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1199481416521355562&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1199481416521355562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1199481416521355562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2012/01/blog-post.html' title=':-('/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y_tbuPkqwf8/TwRnsL1QC1I/AAAAAAAAFAE/5uTriU6IzPw/s72-c/Weather.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-5636615664898881563</id><published>2012-01-02T00:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T09:59:43.845-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year 2012</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Time is like a juggernaut. It stops at none. It neither slows nor speeds. It goes on its steady manner. It is man-made. But for time, each day would have been, well, just a day. Thanks to time, each day has a unique identity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Days bundle up into months and months bundle up into an year. As each year ends and a new year dawns, people rejoice. Sometimes I wonder why we rejoice on the new year’s eve. After all, it is just another night, just another day. It is purely statistical. But Statistics and Numbers have a way of bringing joy to Man. And sadness and other emotions too. &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donald_Bradman" target="_blank"&gt;Bradman’s average&lt;/a&gt; being a jiffy short of 100 always gnaws. Sachin’s current long stint (how much more should we wait?!) at 99 international centuries keeps us on edge of the seat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Yet, there is a sense of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joie_de_vivre" target="_blank"&gt;joie-di-vivre&lt;/a&gt; when the clock approaches midnight on the 31st of December. There is a sense of accomplishment, of having lived through one more year successfully. It brings out the bonhomie amongst one and all. Strangers wish one another ‘Happy New Year’ and flash a bright smile. Why is it that we do not smile at one another every single day? Wouldn’t this world be a great place if such camaraderie existed all 365 days a year! But then, I guess, it would have robbed the uniqueness of a New Year’s Day!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;There are many days in a year that Man celebrates but it is only on the New Year’s Eve when the clock’s countdown is anticipated with such animation. And when the clock strikes twelve, there is hugging and kissing all around. People clap and laugh and sing and dance as if something great happened. But nothing really happens in this physical, practical world to cause any significant change. No one does anything spectacular. The world doesn’t achieve anything great. The clock ticks on just like on any other day. It has no feelings. It does not know the significance nor does it know that it is the one and only agent for this Earthly Nirvana. It does not even stop to celebrate. It goes on and by the time the festivities end, it would have already completed the first few hours of the New Year.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Although nothing spectacular happens, the number in the year - a man-made counter - &amp;nbsp;gets incremented by one and this simple change gives so much joy to so many people. Many flock to metropolitan places to catch a glimpse of the city’s New Year’s Eve attractions such as Fireworks, concerts, parties, etc. Many go to special resorts or to parties to celebrate in small social gatherings. Many stay up at night till the clock strikes twelve enjoying the number of entertainment shows telecasted on the television or just plain news of the happenings across the world.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I wish I could remember each of my 31 New Year’s Eves. For many years, it always was a party at my father’s office. After my father retired, it was mostly sitting in front of the TV and watching the world enjoy – many times sitting alone too with none to rejoice or walking around the block to see the festivities. Perhaps an occasional phone call or an sms to whosoever was nearest and dearest at that time of the year. But some occasions - especially the last few - are memorable. When the year turned 2007, I was 36000 feet above the world! I wanted to wish my neighbor in the Singapore Airlines but she was fast asleep. I was&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2008/01/2008.html" target="_blank"&gt;very cynical&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;in 2008.&amp;nbsp;2009 was with wife in the midst of an unruly crowd in Brigade Road, Bangalore.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/01/happy-new-year-2010.html" target="_blank"&gt;I slept in 2010&lt;/a&gt;! 2011 was a very nice, warm gathering with my school friends and their families. And of course, my daughter’s first. 2006 and 2012 are those spent in US and both have been very special. 2006 was with friends in New York Times Square to see the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Times_Square_Ball" target="_blank"&gt;ball drop&lt;/a&gt;. It was an unforgettable experience. 2012 was awesome too, with wife and daughter, in the &lt;a href="http://harsha-locus.blogspot.com/2012/01/north-conway-nh-in-white-mountain.html" target="_blank"&gt;White Mountain Region&lt;/a&gt; in New Hampshire amidst snow-covered mountains.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;All in all, it is a time of universal happiness. It is the only day that gives immense joy to humanity and brings smile to one and all, regardless of caste, religion, sex, age and innumerous other man-made distinctions.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;It is like a new chapter in each person’s life. A brand new set of blank pages that one can author in one’s own way as one wishes.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Here’s me wishing 2012 to be filled with joy, happiness, health and prosperity.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Happy New Year!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;:-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-5636615664898881563?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/5636615664898881563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=5636615664898881563&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5636615664898881563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5636615664898881563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2012/01/happy-new-year-2012.html' title='Happy New Year 2012'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-4593208329489709117</id><published>2011-12-10T00:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T01:08:40.680-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Perfect Place on Earth</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;This Earth, we are told, is 70% water and 30% land. Out of this 30% land, I guess 70% of it is uninhabitable, what with it being a desert or a forest or a mountain range. That makes this Earth only 9% habitable. In this 9% habitat, I guess 70% of the people live in countries with more than half a year in the cold. Which means, in this Earth, only 2% - 3% are "perfect" places to stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a blessing it must be to stay in places where one doesn't have to think about "weather.com" (or equivalent) and then choose the attire - just to grab something from the neighboring store or to throw the garbage out. What a blessing it must be to open the windows everyday all year round to let the fresh air in. However, this 'blessing' is so easily taken for granted that it's true significance comes only when staying in the extreme climate for month after month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be fair to the climate, the 'cold' isn't as cold as it was back in 1800s. Thanks to Man (and Global Warming), the average cold temperature during winters are reducing. True that it will melt more and more ice and hence water occupancy on Earth will perhaps increase and a big bane to those near the shore but this is a true boon for those situated in extreme cold climate areas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If water occupancy increases, then going by the same percentages theory, the "perfect places&amp;nbsp;to stay"&amp;nbsp;percentage will reduce even further. Considering its "perfect", the population density (especially &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/03/population.html" target="_blank"&gt;at the rate at which we are going&lt;/a&gt;) is more and this automatically leads to several negative points for the non-climatic attributes (such as lack of cleanliness, unemployment, traffic, politics, Governmental apathy, etc) which makes it "Imperfect".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence, Man is left to choose between {Weather and Population Density} and compromise on the derivative benefits or drawbacks to make the chosen "place to stay" as perfect to Him as possible. So, in effect, there is no real 100% perfect place on this Earth. And there will never be one either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-4593208329489709117?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/4593208329489709117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=4593208329489709117&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4593208329489709117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4593208329489709117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/12/perfect-place-on-earth.html' title='The Perfect Place on Earth'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-6828464907180120550</id><published>2011-12-10T00:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T00:09:39.221-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Consumerism</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Ok. So it was a Friday and we wanted to ensure the grocery shopping was all done on Friday so that the weekend can be kept free. We did our shopping and came home only to realize that we had missed to get diapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went out again to get the diaper. It just so happened to have a deal. $18 for 2 and $10 for 1. So I took 2. It also said purchase of $30 of specially marked items would lead to a $10 gift card. Since I had come as far as $18, I shopped even more to reach $30 just to get the gift card!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I came home after almost an hour although all I needed was just a diaper. Next day morning, we realized there is no banana. So off we went again to the market. There we spent even more time and got even more stuff than just banana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realized that if diaper and banana was not missed in the first round itself on Friday, then the 'extra consumerism' would not have ensued...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-6828464907180120550?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/6828464907180120550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=6828464907180120550&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6828464907180120550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6828464907180120550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/12/consumerism.html' title='Consumerism'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7554233454822694304</id><published>2011-12-09T23:47:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-09T23:57:57.162-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Pokey Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;From the morning today, I felt I was being poked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got a call early in the morning regarding a 'High Impact' issue but it turned out few hours later that it was not an issue at all. Even before this got resolved, another issue cropped up. Few more hours of investigation and it too turned out to be a non issue. Meanwhile another guy mailed about something not being right, and while I was trying to break my head on it, someone else thankfully responded that I wasn't the right person to be contacted. Then, another person sent a big mail to all senior management that my install had broken some other project whereas my install had not yet taken place!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt like being poked at from all sides. As if some guy Up There wanted sadistic pleasure out my discomfort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, in the end, it was a zero-issue and a successful install. Hopefully, the last one for 2011.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7554233454822694304?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7554233454822694304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7554233454822694304&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7554233454822694304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7554233454822694304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/12/pokey-day.html' title='A Pokey Day'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1382882661394960187</id><published>2011-11-27T01:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-27T01:53:27.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The First 12 Months</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;The memory of cradling &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/10/father-of-baby-girl.html" target="_blank"&gt;my newborn&lt;/a&gt; in my arms just after shecame out of the womb is still fresh. When the nurse asked me to hold her and Iheld her, I could sense her looking at me –although biological facts suggestthat newborns cannot see or focus on anything. Its been a whirlwind of a timesince then. Time goes so fast and time goes so slow. There were times when weall wanted her to turn over in the bed and there were times when we felt shestarted walking too early and crawled too less. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;But each month and each day has been a great and fun filled experience.Not a day passes without her giving us something to laugh about. Her innocenceis so fresh. The other night, I was sitting on the sofa watching her run fromone end of the wall to the other end where there is a glass partition thatseparates the living room and the balcony. She does this stretch about 100times a day – tirelessly and with great gusto. This particular night as shewent near the glass partition, she saw the headlights of a car on the drivewaythat faces our second floor balcony. Sensing the car to be coming near her, shecame running to me in fear with outstretched hands! She used to do the same for a longtime when the cooker started to whistle but she has grown out of it. She usedto laugh whenever I yawned but she has grown out of that too. Such pureinnocence! &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;I wonder what makes her categorize actions as ‘Something tobe scared about’, ‘Something to laugh about’, ‘Something to cry about’. Ifthere are raised voices, it makes her cry. Even if you are telling loving wordsin a raised angry voice. If you laugh looking at some comic scene on the TV, shelooks at you and laughs with you. No one teaches her this – yet she is able to recognizeThe Good and The Bad. Seeing this itself is such a marvel. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Looking at one’s child grow makes parents realize how theywere during their own initial days of life – and of course how much trouble andjoy that they would have given to their parents! Its never boring and its nevertiresome. Perhaps it is because of the immense love that the child entrusts theparents with. The way she comes running to parents calling with just-learntsyllables “amma”, “papa” filled with such &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2008/09/unconditional-love.html" target="_blank"&gt;unconditional love&lt;/a&gt; – a love that isnot based on looks which is common amongst college-goers. Whatever be thephysical appearance of mother and father, a child will always love her parents.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;In 2005, my first year in an alien country, I saw many newthings. Now, I am experiencing some of those things – all thanks to my daughter.&lt;br /&gt;-In Ashland temple, I had seen the priest taking infants inside the sanctumsanctorum to the idol for the Lord’s blessings. Few months ago, the priest tookmy daughter inside the sanctum sanctorum, and I felt blessed.&lt;br /&gt;-I had seen infants sitting on theshopping carts while the parents shopped. Now I play with my daughter, sittingon the shopping cart, zooming through the aisles while my wife shops.&lt;br /&gt;-I hadonce sat in a colleague’s car after clearing the colleague’s child’s toys fromthe passenger seat. The other day, a colleague who sat in my car had to clearmy daughter’s toys from the passenger seat!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Always wanting to be tickled, wanting to laugh, wanting toplay peekaboo, wanting to run in that tiny legs away from mom’s feeding hands(although hungry and want to eat), wanting to be read books, wanting to be toldrhymes, wanting to hear songs, wanting to go outdoors, wanting to know and do somany things in life which adults think is monotonous. She adds such freshness, such a desire of ‘I-want-more’. I realized that all human beings are created with such desire, such "wantingness"! So much is talked about in religious themes about "desire" being a bad thing and to be happy with what one has, but how can this be achieved when the basic DNA of human beings itself is created in such fashion to keep desiring more and more!!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Each action of hers necessitates a snap or a video. The &lt;a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/HarshaGouri" target="_blank"&gt;11&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; of every month&lt;/a&gt; had become a milestone activity formy wife and me to share her development and progress. It was fun to pickamongst thousands of snaps and write captions. It was fun to share the joy andread the comments. Its been a year (and more than a month) already and so much happened – with so muchto happen yet in her life.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Here’s wishing a very Happy Birthday to my little one, andbest wishes for many, many more fun-filled years to come! Love you, Tontu!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;:-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1382882661394960187?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1382882661394960187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1382882661394960187&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1382882661394960187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1382882661394960187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/11/first-12-months.html' title='The First 12 Months'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-8705556994105099023</id><published>2011-11-26T11:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-26T22:50:00.196-05:00</updated><title type='text'>9</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;The maximum years I had ever been in any one institution was Good Shepherd School - from LKG to 7th standard: That's 9 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Nov 18th 2011, GSS lost its post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-8705556994105099023?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/8705556994105099023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=8705556994105099023&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8705556994105099023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8705556994105099023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/11/9.html' title='9'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-2240018404518560528</id><published>2011-11-13T21:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-13T21:20:31.248-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Candlelight Dinner</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;For Husband and Wife&lt;br /&gt;A Candlelight Dinner is Romantic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Husband, Wife and a Toddler&lt;br /&gt;A Candlelight Dinner is Dangerous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-2240018404518560528?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/2240018404518560528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=2240018404518560528&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2240018404518560528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2240018404518560528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/11/candlelight-dinner.html' title='Candlelight Dinner'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1486642563735588307</id><published>2011-10-27T23:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-27T23:34:50.123-04:00</updated><title type='text'>First Snow of 2011!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;A sign of good times...&lt;br /&gt;A sign of bad times...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A time for a smile...&lt;br /&gt;A time for a sigh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Snow of 2011...&lt;br /&gt;First Snow for Tontu...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1486642563735588307?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1486642563735588307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1486642563735588307&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1486642563735588307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1486642563735588307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/10/first-snow-of-2011.html' title='First Snow of 2011!'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-8500645048316969389</id><published>2011-10-25T23:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-25T23:21:42.066-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dumb</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Mother: "What &lt;i&gt;do&lt;/i&gt; you want?" Voice filled with exasperation, hearing the daughter's continuous wailing.&lt;br /&gt;Daughter: "Ilchik." She pointed a crooked arm at an angle of 100 degrees, pointing sometimes at the main door and sometimes at the shelf. She looked where she was pointing and looked back at the mother hoping mother understood.&lt;br /&gt;Mother thought daughter wanted her (mother) to take her (daughter) outside through the main door. But it was 10 pm.&lt;br /&gt;Mother: "I can't take you out now. It is 10 pm and it is cold outside."&lt;br /&gt;Daughter repeated whatever she had done earlier, and wailed once more laboriously.&lt;br /&gt;Mother: "What do you &lt;i&gt;want&lt;/i&gt;?" She then looked at some books on the shelf and asked the daughter, "Do you want me to read you a book?"&lt;br /&gt;Daughter gave a bright smile and&amp;nbsp;started dancing, glad that mom finally understood what she wanted.&lt;br /&gt;Mother: "Oh you wanted me to read you a book?!" She got up to get the book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;For the mother, the baby is literally dumb.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;For the baby, the mother is figuratively dumb.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Just goes to show that at some point of time in each of our lives we were all dumb in a way...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-8500645048316969389?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/8500645048316969389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=8500645048316969389&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8500645048316969389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8500645048316969389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/10/dumb.html' title='Dumb'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1340308544984838656</id><published>2011-10-25T22:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2012-02-26T23:35:31.011-05:00</updated><title type='text'>6 in 12</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;In the last 12 months of our stay in US (starting from 2009 May and with a break of 1.5 years), my wife and I have stayed in 6 houses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1340308544984838656?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1340308544984838656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1340308544984838656&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1340308544984838656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1340308544984838656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/10/6-in-12.html' title='6 in 12'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-8994618784338732421</id><published>2011-09-11T13:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T13:38:45.287-04:00</updated><title type='text'>9.11.11</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;It has been 10 years since the fateful day.&lt;br /&gt;Each year I get to hear a new story.&lt;br /&gt;Each year I get to see a video and feel as if it is the first time I am seeing it.&lt;br /&gt;Each story and each video moves me.&lt;br /&gt;Each year I cry.&lt;br /&gt;It was a day when many, many ordinary men became heroes and then became immortal forever.&lt;br /&gt;I salute them all...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-8994618784338732421?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/8994618784338732421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=8994618784338732421&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8994618784338732421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8994618784338732421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/09/91111.html' title='9.11.11'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-3470292619027392390</id><published>2011-09-10T23:55:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-10T23:55:53.884-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Commonality in Nursery Rhymes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;There is one common element between the following four nursery rhymes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ring_a_Ring_o'_Roses#Early_attestation"&gt;Ring a Ring o' Roses&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_Bridge_Is_Falling_Down#Lyrics"&gt;London Bridge&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Humpty_Dumpty#Lyrics"&gt;Humpty Dumpty&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_and_Jill_(nursery_rhyme)#Lyrics"&gt;Jack and Jill&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It all talks about 'Falling Down'!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-3470292619027392390?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/3470292619027392390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=3470292619027392390&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/3470292619027392390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/3470292619027392390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/09/commonality-in-nursery-rhymes.html' title='Commonality in Nursery Rhymes'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-5272533586620333470</id><published>2011-09-08T00:08:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-08T14:42:08.647-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Name-Value Pair</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;In my current project - as in most software projects - we have a robust&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attribute-value_pair"&gt;name-value map configuration&lt;/a&gt;. For the lay man, this basically means that if the calling program specifies a name to the configuration, a value is returned back to the program for further processing. Like if a door bell button is pressed, the door bell makes a sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing my daughter grow (she is now almost 11 months old), I made a startling discovery that our brain is wired with full of such name-value maps. Majority of our brain is like an enormous configuration which keeps storing information and making an "index" (like yellow pages index), which is akin to "name". When this name is invoked, it responds back with a "value" which is carried out by the nervous system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, the first thing which I remember my daughter learned was reacting to the phrase &lt;a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/108549658936033065757/Month6#5604329414215833298"&gt;"Smile, please!"&lt;/a&gt; - thanks to my wife's mother who taught her this. When someone said "Smile, please!", my daughter smiled back in response. I was initially perplexed as to how she can understand English at such an age (6th month) and dismissed it as an one-off event. But the fact was that she kept repeating it. Which meant there was some science behind it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The discovery was simple. She really did not know what "Smile, please!" meant. She was just doing what the person who was asking was doing. Note the exclamation everywhere. "Smile, please&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;" Each time this phrase was uttered, the person who used to utter this was smiling and, this in turn, made the brain register that "Smile, please!" meant smiling. So, there we have it! Utterance of "Smile, please!" is the name and smiling is the value.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learning continues for the infants whether it is intentionally taught or not as long as it is oft repeated. For example, my wife keeps talking to the baby explaining what she is doing. She talks about bathing, about putting on the diaper, about food that she is feeding, etc. Such oft-repeated conversations (and even actions) register in the child, even though it was not really meant as a learning. This could be because children at this age have a tremendous amount of grasping power. Think of it as a brand new computer which does everything (like booting!) so fast. It is only with age that worries and thoughts occupy the brain more; add natural wear and tear of the body and we get a PC that takes over 5 mins to boot! :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So one fine day, when we simply asked our daughter to get diaper (heretofore she was never explicitly shown what a diaper is), she promptly crawled on all fours to the place where we keep diapers. This shocked us! Her brain had mapped the word "diaper" to diaper automatically. Similarly, "Twinkle, twinkle, little star" meant &amp;nbsp;making an action like twinkling stars using fingers, "Tummy" meant patting her tiny stomach, "Shake hand" meant putting out her hand to be shaken, "High-Five" meant , well, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/High_five"&gt;High Five&lt;/a&gt;, "Nose" meant &lt;a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/108549658936033065757/Month9#5632661227614168418"&gt;showing her nose in her own unique way&lt;/a&gt;, "Head" meant patting her head, "Teeth" meant baring her mouth to show the 2 teeth (!), "Kiss" meant opening mouth and coming near the face of the asker(!), "Frock" meant showing her dress, "Hi" ("bye" and "tata" too) meant spreading the palms of her hand and shaking, "Water" meant looking at her water bottle and expecting someone to put it in her mouth, "Poojyaya Raghavendraya" ("Vittala, Vittala, Govinda" too) meant clasping palms together and looking at the idols, "Clap, clap, clap" meant &lt;a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/108549658936033065757/Month8#5619784070527748978"&gt;bringing the palms together&lt;/a&gt;, "Aeroplane" meant seeing something high up in the air, "Gubbacchi" meant seeing birds, "Moon" meant seeing that bright thing in the sky, "&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thaalam"&gt;Thaala&lt;/a&gt;" means bringing her hand down to her thighs imitating Carnatic Classical music pundits(!), "Dance" meant shaking her body, "Amma" meant seeing mother, "Pappa" meant seeing father, "Paavani" meant seeing herself in the mirror, so on and so forth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't intend this post to show case Paavani's development but it looks like it has just become just that! So be it. I couldn't stop myself! But coming back to the nub of it, it just goes to show how our brain stores all the information as name-value pairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking more on these lines, it becomes slightly complicated later on. Take English for example. The word "Lead" will first mean the pencil-end for school-goers. Then, couple of grades later, this will take another meaning of &lt;a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/lead"&gt;guiding&lt;/a&gt;. Couple of grades later, this will take another meaning of a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lead"&gt;chemical substance&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;[No, pencil lead and chemical lead are two different things]. This kind of complicates the brain. That is perhaps why it is often said that English is a funny language! Now how can indexing work when we cannot define a &lt;a href="http://databases.about.com/cs/administration/g/primarykey.htm"&gt;primary key&lt;/a&gt;?! Once indexing is broken, the brain starts slowing down. So we humans have ourselves to blame for our own brain degeneration! Why couldn't we invent new words instead of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Function_overloading"&gt;overloading&lt;/a&gt; same words?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I have said all that I wished to say in this post. I only wish that my Tontu's brain continues to be as sharp and grasping as ever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-5272533586620333470?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/5272533586620333470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=5272533586620333470&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5272533586620333470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5272533586620333470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/09/name-value-pair.html' title='Name-Value Pair'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-5576274780698347946</id><published>2011-09-04T23:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-04T23:28:49.790-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Cubicle Hang-out</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During my first US visit between 2005 and 2006, I did not have an office cubicle of my own. I was sitting in a lab-turned cubicle which hosted from 2 to more than 10 people at one time depending on the projects that came and went. Although I felt 'left-out' of having a cubicle of my own, I grew fond of my lab-like office setting. It was nice to share the place with others - to talk of this and that when work became monotonous, although it sometimes felt congested and difficult to concentrate when you can hear every single syllable of your neighbors despite their efforts to be soft. Apart from this, my place was a 'hangout' for lot of people. Perhaps it was because I was in a lab and not in a cubicle where one has to talk in whispers, people used to stop by and have chit-chat for some time everyday. When one person has stopped by, others used to join and before long, there were a swarm of people gossipping, making plans for the long weekend and yapping in general. I liked this setting although at times it was annoying when I had lot of work to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then in 2007 and 2008, when I was in India, I was amongst a relatively new team of about 20 folks amongst which I was one of the seniors. So most folks used to look up to me for resolutions, for guidance and when they became closer, started stopping by for general passing of time. It was not long before my cubicle became very much akin to my US cubicle. My cubicle became the favorite hang-out place for planning weekend getaways, for parties and for general chit-chat. We spent lot of time talking about getting away from software engineering and taking up other kinds of businesses such as agriculture, mining, schooling and we were all in the same frequency of discussion and hence it was enjoyable taking absolute rot knowing fully well that we were all building castles in the air. But it was fun. I enjoyed the adhoc gatherings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After being so used to this position of 'center of attention' (literally) for last 4.5 years, it came as a quite a jolt to experience the pre-2005 era when I was all by myself in my own cubicle and immersed completely in work from start of day to end of day. From mid-2009 till date, I have not had the opportunity to experience this bonhomieness. I was in US again for about 7 months in 2009 and my cubicle (again a lab-turned cubicle) was in an isolated location. &amp;nbsp;When I was back in India in 2010, &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/01/history-repeats.html"&gt;I got the same cubicle&lt;/a&gt; I had in 2007 and 2008 but it was a new team and it did not gel as well as the 2007 team. Now, back in US, my first 'real' cubicle in US (finally) is conveniently located but, again, it is a new team and not many know me well enough nor have time to hang out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, just the other day, for the briefest of the periods during the day, when about 4-5 people were over at my cubicle yapping in general, talking of this and that, I had this nostalgia of the good old days between 2005 and 2008. Sigh. How I miss those days...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-5576274780698347946?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/5576274780698347946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=5576274780698347946&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5576274780698347946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5576274780698347946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/09/during-my-first-us-visit-between-2005.html' title='Cubicle Hang-out'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-3280164412195635627</id><published>2011-08-22T22:38:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-22T22:48:30.647-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing the Sign-Board</title><content type='html'>To exit out of the Boston airport’s Terminal E, international passengers ought to cross an inner door, bear slight right to cross an outer door to reach the waiting family members, and from there, the exit is but a few steps. If positioned correctly, waiting family members can see through the outer door up until the inner door, and the steady stream of passengers flowing through the inner and outer doors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so positioned that I had this exact view as detailed above. I was waiting for my mom. This was her third visit to US but it was her first alone. So I was slightly tensed. Plus I was blaming myself for having reached the airport late lest I had missed her and she had gone wandering in search of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That being my state of mind, I saw an elderly Indian couple cross the inner door and stand hesitantly wondering what to do next. A few steps to their right was the outer door – the correct one – but if they took left instead of bearing right, there was another exit at the end of the corridor – an infrequently used exit but an exit nevertheless which did not lead to waiting family members.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started wondering how dumb can one be. I mean there they were standing few feet from a door clearly marked as ‘Exit’, and they were standing there dumbly wondering whether to go right or left. This elderly Indian couple’s decision was crucial because if they took left and took the infrequently used exit, then passengers behind them will blindly follow them. Quite a chump the waiting family members will look if the relatives come up from behind and start thumping on their backs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, few impatient passengers rushed past them, took the right outer door and ran to waiting kith and kin. Seeing this, the couple – now assured of the trodden path – came out too. I was glad that now there was no confusion created.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few moments later, I saw my mom come out of the exit and after the usual chit-chat of how the security guards in Paris had thrown her home-made masala powders, we made way to the airport exit. Just before we exited, I expressed my desire to visit the rest room. Not to miss the moment of seeing my mater coming through unscathed after a ghastly 24 hour air journey and also to allow her to experience the joy of seeing a waiting son, I had held up the urge to relieve myself however tough it may have been. Now that the goals having been achieved and the rest room being a few feet away, the Nature exerted Herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asking mom to stay put, I entered the nearest rest room entrance. Imagine my surprise when I saw an elderly lady walking in the opposite direction! Such a simple action as a person of the opposite gender walking in the opposite direction while I am entering a supposedly gentleman’s haven fired up a million questions. The brain and nervous system – being as it is – is not used to react heretofore to such a situation in its past 3 decades of operation, and it was at a total loss. Brain said “What’s going on here?!” and Nervous system replied “I am damned if I know!” At a situation like this, when brain and nervous system were looking at one another, the Ego raised its ugly head and started laughing at the lady. It started spreading the message that the lady had inadvertently entered into gentleman’s room and was hence retreating back. But a moment later Reason raised its hand and thumped the Ego’s head and split it into two. I was, in fact, in the lady’s room!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Assuming wrongly that the door nearest to me was Men’s room, I had sauntered in without even seeing the signboard. I murmured to the lady who was seeing me perplexedly that I was sorry I had entered the Lady’s room by mistake and I too retreated along with her. I was not sure if I heard a few folks giggling at me but the thing that was on my mind when I headed towards Men’s room was the incident that had occurred a few minutes ago of me critically thinking of the elderly Indian couple’s hesitation at the outer door:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How dumb can one be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-3280164412195635627?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/3280164412195635627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=3280164412195635627&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/3280164412195635627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/3280164412195635627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/08/missing-sign-board.html' title='Missing the Sign-Board'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-6497289993633382092</id><published>2011-08-14T22:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-14T22:39:49.226-04:00</updated><title type='text'>B to 6</title><content type='html'>So, I got on this elevator at the Basement.&lt;br /&gt;There were 2 guys with me. &lt;br /&gt;I pressed the button 6 - the top floor of the building where I stay.&lt;br /&gt;One guy pressed 2 while the other guy pressed 5.&lt;br /&gt;The doors closed and the elevator started.&lt;br /&gt;It stopped at Level 1 and 3 more people got in.&lt;br /&gt;They pressed buttons 3 and 4.&lt;br /&gt;As the elevator made its way towards Level 6, stopping at every level of the floor, one thing dawned to me.&lt;br /&gt;For the first time in my life, and perhaps the only time ever, I traveled in an elevator that stopped at 5 Levels before I could get off. &lt;br /&gt;It is not everyday one sees 5 out of 7 buttons pressed in an elevator and the elevator stopping at the remaining 2 levels too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-6497289993633382092?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/6497289993633382092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=6497289993633382092&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6497289993633382092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6497289993633382092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/08/b-to-6.html' title='B to 6'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7465075101904292406</id><published>2011-08-04T20:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-04T20:42:09.615-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Minority Report</title><content type='html'>I am a Kannadiga in Bangalore.&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;I am an Indian in United States of America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, I belong to the minority.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7465075101904292406?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7465075101904292406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7465075101904292406&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7465075101904292406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7465075101904292406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/08/minority-report.html' title='Minority Report'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-4568444760520670028</id><published>2011-07-21T22:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T22:37:19.393-04:00</updated><title type='text'>No Dodds &amp; No Chikks</title><content type='html'>Father’s elder brother(s) are called Doddappa(s) in Kannada. Figuratively this means Senior Dad(s).&lt;br /&gt;Father’s younger brother(s) are called Chikkappa(s) in Kannada. Figuratively this means Junior Dad(s).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother’s elder sister(s) are called Doddamma(s) in Kannada. Figuratively this means Senior Mom(s).&lt;br /&gt;Mother’s younger sister(s) are called Chikkamma(s) in Kannada. Figuratively this means Junior Mom(s).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father has 3 sisters.&lt;br /&gt;My mother has 3 brothers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have neither Senior Dad nor Junior Dad.&lt;br /&gt;I have neither Senior Mom nor Junior Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have only one Main Dad and one Main Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-4568444760520670028?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/4568444760520670028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=4568444760520670028&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4568444760520670028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4568444760520670028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/07/no-dodds-no-chikks.html' title='No Dodds &amp; No Chikks'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-6206711406011436716</id><published>2011-06-20T10:54:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T11:00:12.244-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Laceless</title><content type='html'>I got a laceless formal shoes on my wedding in 2008.&lt;br /&gt;I got a laceless strap-on sneakers in 2009.&lt;br /&gt;The 2008 shoes wore out and being now addicted to laceless, got one more in 2010.&lt;br /&gt;Which means, I just realized, for the last 2 years, I have not tied lace!&lt;br /&gt;My! Laceless is such a relief! Why did I not try before!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: This thought occurred when I saw a man tying his lace in the pavement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-6206711406011436716?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/6206711406011436716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=6206711406011436716&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6206711406011436716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6206711406011436716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/06/laceless.html' title='Laceless'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1725644705144012635</id><published>2011-06-05T16:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-05T16:46:47.239-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Jondig</title><content type='html'>I was walking in the busy tunnel at Downtown Crossing in Boston to catch the Red Line subway train to South Station when I noticed a cockroach on the wall. Such a sight is very uncommon and it attracted a lot of attention. I was amused by its presence but kept walking. At about the same time, I saw an American lady walking in the opposite direction and she too noticed the cockroach. Her reaction was noteworthy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She stopped in her tracks, pointed to the cockroach and made an ugly face. She said something like ‘Ugh’ and finally, after exhausting all her reactions to the innocent animal, continued on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could not help remembering my after-dinner 10 pm walks with my pregnant wife in my hometown in Bangalore. My wife who calls cockroaches as &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Jondgya&lt;/span&gt; (due to which I call them as &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Jondig&lt;/span&gt;, just for fun!) has a very alert eye for such pests and jumps at the very sight of it. Many a time, we had to see twice before stepping to ensure we were not squashing any crawling cockroaches on the road. They were that many in number. Some even used to fly around causing that much more thrill in a simple boring activity like walking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, as I saw my Red Line train approaching, I could not decide what was more amusing. The cockroach or the lady’s reactions. Or the lady’s reaction if ever she took an after-dinner 10 pm walk in Bangalore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1725644705144012635?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1725644705144012635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1725644705144012635&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1725644705144012635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1725644705144012635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/06/jondig_06.html' title='Jondig'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-6126211714251536674</id><published>2011-05-28T13:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-28T13:43:50.273-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shri Venkateshwara Suprabhatam</title><content type='html'>Late 1980s. Time: 8 am in the morning. Place: Bangalore, India. Summer holidays. Me –a school-going boy - drowsily sleeping in the makeshift mattress placed in the middle of small living room. I could hear my maternal grandma in the kitchen, busy cooking breakfast for the entire household. She would have been already 3 hours into the day. I could hear my grandpa vigorously moving – he would have called it ‘exercising’ - his oiled body before heading to bath. Somebody else in the household would be busy sweeping the house. I knew that I will be woken up soon and the makeshift mattress had to be folded too so as to complete the sweeping process. Amdist all these, M S Subbulakshmi chanted the celebrated &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6Mr7J-Zxow"&gt;Shri Venkateshwara Suprabhatam&lt;/a&gt; in the dilapidated tape recorder. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I liked the setting. &lt;br /&gt;I liked Subbulakshmi’s rendition of the Suprabhatam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mid 2011. Time: 8 am in the morning. Place: Boston, USA. Summer. Me - a 31-year-old employee in a prestigious firm - walking on Federal Street in crisp blue blazer and Raymonds trouser, amongst hundred other people in equally if not better attire. Some are running to catch the connecting transport - be it bus or train. Some are tourists – carrying in their hands Boston map and tourist guide, drinking in the history all around them. Positive energy all around, strangers smiling at one another and commenting on what a fine day it is. Tall buildings on either side of the street making a canopy of comfortable shadow. The breeze from the Atlantic Ocean causing a tingling but nice chill. In my ears are the headphones from ipod. M S Subbulakshmi chanting the same celebrated Shri Venkateshwara Suprabhatam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I liked this setting too.&lt;br /&gt;I still liked Subbulakshmi’s rendition of the Suprabhatam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things change so drastically.&lt;br /&gt;Some things never change.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-6126211714251536674?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/6126211714251536674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=6126211714251536674&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6126211714251536674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6126211714251536674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/05/sri-venkateshwara-suprabhatam.html' title='Shri Venkateshwara Suprabhatam'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-8481133159322856788</id><published>2011-05-22T22:55:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-22T23:01:26.291-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Bundle of Joy</title><content type='html'>‘Bundle of Joy’ is the right phrase for a baby. For they bring much joy and make life an endearing prospect. I guess even at the very end of life, when one has almost renounced all worldly pleasures, a baby brings so much joy into the spectrum of life that one does not want to get out of the life and death cycle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paavani is now 7 months old and she is very much a bundle of joy. She spreads happiness everywhere she goes. Her very presence made people walk up the stairs to our house in Bangalore when before not many relatives ventured. Decade long neighbors visited us for the first time just to see her. When we used to take her for walks in the road, people used to stop us and talk to her. Strangers in the road started smiling at her. Some even commented on her cute appearance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is fascinating how an infant can change the face of the world. Without Paavani, the world was different altogether. Neighbors were just there to be smiled at, strangers remained strangers, relatives remained far and so on and so forth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever Paavani is with her great grandparents, there is much joy in their lives. As my grandma points out, she and her hubby will be in a big argument and shouting at one another – which she says is a daily affair after one is married to a person for 70 years – but the moment they see Paavani being brought in, their fight will melt away and both start instantaneously enjoying the precious moment with her by cuddling her and cooing with her to which she responds with grateful bursts of joy much to their delight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the time came for me to leave to US, I was feeling a little sorry to be taking the joy out of so many lives. When relatives came to know of the departure, their first reaction was to repent the fact that Paavani will not be amongst them. It was as if the news broke their hearts. I felt like giving a toy (Paavani) to a child (relatives) and taking the toy away. It is amazing what infants can do. It can turn a strict septuagenarian into an imitation elephant (on all fours), it can turn a lethargic octogenarian into an enthusiastic superwoman and a nonagenarian into a dancing doll.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once in US, the human interactions which Paavani had as compared to before have lessened. She can now only connect to her septua-, octo- and nona-genarian friends only through electronic medium – a microcosm of being physically with the person. Alas, nothing much can be done about that but appreciate technology for allowing at least this microcosmic interaction. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, a walk in the streets of US brings its own set of joy to fellow pedestrians. People here are far more expressive about their compliments and appreciations than in India. Many a time, we have been stopped and told how beautiful or how pretty or how cute she looks. We have to go through the entire routine of telling her name, her age and thanking on her behalf for all her own compliments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our neighbor in US was so full of words upon seeing her that she said she wanted to clone her. She mentioned that Paavani (she pronounced it right) is the cutest person she had ever seen and how much of a doll she resembled. Of course, the ear ring and the anklet add more to the conversation and prettiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a parent, it feels nice to hear this. It feels nice to bring smiles into lives. It feels nice to make this world a better place of smiling individuals. To an extent, this even reduces the guilt of taking the joy out of some Bangaloreans:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all, even folks in US need some joy! :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-8481133159322856788?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/8481133159322856788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=8481133159322856788&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8481133159322856788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8481133159322856788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/05/bundle-of-joy.html' title='Bundle of Joy'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-3297333338013726224</id><published>2011-05-18T20:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-18T20:10:27.900-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Duration in USA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Myth&lt;/strong&gt;: For some reason, perhaps because I have traveled four times, it is a myth amongst many who know me that I have been in USA for about 4-5 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Fact&lt;/strong&gt;: My total stay in US, as of today, is 2 years and 5 months.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-3297333338013726224?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/3297333338013726224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=3297333338013726224&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/3297333338013726224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/3297333338013726224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/05/duration-in-usa.html' title='Duration in USA'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-8735204493499234950</id><published>2011-05-11T22:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T16:27:12.131-04:00</updated><title type='text'>America: Fourth Innings</title><content type='html'>Its been 8 working days in US for me, and I was involved in 6 installs - with one of them being an emergency production ticket!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this is not a sign of things to come…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-8735204493499234950?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/8735204493499234950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=8735204493499234950&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8735204493499234950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8735204493499234950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/05/america-fourth-innings.html' title='America: Fourth Innings'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-4957478766304552453</id><published>2011-04-21T01:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-14T22:44:06.233-04:00</updated><title type='text'>500</title><content type='html'>I was more of a novel writer in the mid 1990s. In fact, I have written 2 novels (the Hardy Boys type) on paper in an unintelligible handwriting so typical of the teenage boy. On the advice of my High School English teacher, I started thinking on the lines of short stories and smaller articles suited for newspaper publications.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was strangely difficult to adapt to the shorter version after writing 150+ page novels. But once I got the hang of it, I started enjoying it (but I lost the novel-writing skill on the way). Couple of them got published too in the national newspaper. But it was hard work to get it published. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To not see the article after multiple follow-ups was disheartening. And those that did get published had been edited the way I did not want them to. All this was very disappointing. It was very typical of an author on the doorsteps of a publisher. So I ended up writing what came to my head in pieces of paper and stopped bothering about asking newspapers to publish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blogspot – which was free! – came like a haven for freedom of thought and penmanship. No more begging, no more follow-ups, no more edits – just pure unadulterated content exactly the way I want it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first post on this blog was on March 21st 2006. This is the 500th post which has come after 5 years and a month. On the way, seven more blogs were born under the same banner which specialized in a theme of its own. In all, there are now 1118 posts across all blogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The idea of seeing my own words on the internet the way I want it gives me joy. I can reminisce on the years gone by, by going through my posts, by re-living my own life and musings. It gives an outlet for my thoughts and adds meaning to my life. It stays on even when I have departed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may not be much, but for me, it is an achievement.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-4957478766304552453?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/4957478766304552453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=4957478766304552453&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4957478766304552453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4957478766304552453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/04/500.html' title='500'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-2499816133388163321</id><published>2011-04-20T23:31:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-21T00:05:59.041-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The sad state of human affairs</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"I wish I was never born in my parent's house."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The above remark from a female friend of mine caused me to think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parents undergo a lot to bring up their children. Initially, the children are totally dependent on the parents and bask in their love. As children grow from tiny tots to teenage, a shift in the love quotient occurs and parents are no longer the favoured best. Job gives a heretofore unknown independence. Money and location of work further distances the parents. Marriage brings in a totally different wave of life-issues - for both parents and the new entrant. Its almost like a tsunami :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other side of the spectrum, while their children get married and have kids of their own, parents are ageing and would like more to be with children for support and grandchildren for basking in forgotten child's love. Pitfalls occur. Spouses die. Children neither near nor want to be near. Grandchildren do not recognise you. Finally its time to bid adieu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the participants change in this life cycle. Children become parents. Grandchildren become children. And the whole gamut of human emotions come into play once more. And so, life goes on and on and on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty sad state of human affairs, actually.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-2499816133388163321?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/2499816133388163321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=2499816133388163321&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2499816133388163321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2499816133388163321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/04/sad-state-of-human-affairs.html' title='The sad state of human affairs'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-3855828657350813634</id><published>2011-04-20T04:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-20T04:49:59.616-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Beautiful Memory</title><content type='html'>She and I were sitting in the busy Jayanagar 4th block complex. &lt;br /&gt;She was sitting on my lap and I had completely embraced her. &lt;br /&gt;She looked beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without a care in the world, I kept kissing her.&lt;br /&gt;And she gave me one cheek after the other, for she too was enjoying.&lt;br /&gt;She looked beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sang to her and danced with her.&lt;br /&gt;She too sang with lyrics of her own and enjoyed the gyrations.&lt;br /&gt;She looked beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone who passed us by, looked at us and smiled.&lt;br /&gt;If they were a part of family, they whispered amongst themselves about us.&lt;br /&gt;We looked beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Father and daughter.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-3855828657350813634?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/3855828657350813634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=3855828657350813634&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/3855828657350813634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/3855828657350813634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/04/beautiful-memory.html' title='A Beautiful Memory'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-5791717456532828521</id><published>2011-04-17T01:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-17T01:05:17.325-04:00</updated><title type='text'>31 and 28</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Happy Birthday to you!&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday to your wife too!!&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday, Dear Harsha and Gouri!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Special day today as we celebrated our first birthday with daughter in Sharjah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-5791717456532828521?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/5791717456532828521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=5791717456532828521&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5791717456532828521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5791717456532828521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/04/31-and-28.html' title='31 and 28'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-72014586467217024</id><published>2011-04-09T00:48:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T00:51:07.237-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Life is Calling</title><content type='html'>If I am sitting in my room (say, working on the laptop) in Bangalore, I am actually traveling at a speed of &lt;a href="http://imagine.gsfc.nasa.gov/docs/ask_astro/answers/970401c.html"&gt;1015 miles per hour&lt;/a&gt;. And this is just around Earth’s axis. I am also actually traveling at a speed of 66,676 miles per hour around the Sun. I am not an expert in astrophysics to go further on speed in which my galaxy is traveling, so I will leave it at that but suffice it to say that its like being in a revolve-rotate roller coaster ride that turns around the axis as well as moves this way and that, giving the general feeling that you have no idea where you are at a given point of time. This gives great joy to majority of the population but the feeling I get is one that of nausea because my insides just can’t take it. Don’t get me wrong. The nausea is when I am in the roller coaster ride, not when I am sitting in my room in Bangalore working on the laptop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Add to this Facebook, LinkedIn and Orkut where I get to see multiple updates on the multitude group of friends in each of these networking sites. One friend is traveling from India to Australia for a job, one friend is traveling from Australia to London for studies, one friend is traveling from London to Switzerland for honeymoon, one friend is traveling from Switzerland to India for settling down in life, one friend is traveling from India to US to join husband and many friends traveling within US during the long weekend. It is as if you are in the midst of a huge inter-networking set of cables that are hovering all over you all the time – the way &lt;a href="http://www.airlineroutemaps.com/"&gt;airline industries advertise&lt;/a&gt; their routes on a magazines around the world – and you are just a spectator being bewildered by the increasing dynamics of what is happening as we speak in and around you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 6 month old daughter, who spends most of her time on her back, pedaling her legs on an imaginative cycle, flapping her hands in utter joy and squeaking away to glory when she has had her night’s sleep and morning milk suddenly stops all of her activities when I take her for my weekend morning walk. Cradled against my shoulder, she looks here and there at the moving vehicles, she looks at the morning walkers and joggers in the park, she looks at the moving branches of the tree, she looks at the birds and she is all agog. She is literally dumb struck. No voice comes from her. She forgets she has hands and legs to flap about. Her eyes capture everything. It is a new world out there for her. Not just the roof and fan which she is accustomed to. So much so that she doesn’t even respond to her name Paavani or her pet name Tontu. She doesn’t want her parents, doesn’t even want her Mother - who is her constant companion since birth – when she is in the open air. Life, in fact, is beckoning her, and she is bewildered by the enormity of it, and the possibilities it beholds. She, who is the queen of the bed and the room, suddenly feels small looking at the magnitude of World beyond her house. The &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r1KdGHM5X38"&gt;Smirnoff commercial&lt;/a&gt; aptly describes the situation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Life is Calling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-72014586467217024?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/72014586467217024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=72014586467217024&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/72014586467217024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/72014586467217024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/04/life-is-calling.html' title='Life is Calling'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1620179774285922871</id><published>2011-04-08T14:03:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-08T14:15:05.722-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Neonatal Phototherapy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Within the first week of &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/04/pet-names.html"&gt;Tontu’s&lt;/a&gt; birth, she had jaundice as most newborns do. To treat jaundice for newborns, the infants are kept under a source of blue light. This process is called &lt;a href="http://hubpages.com/hub/phototherapy"&gt;Neonatal Phototherapy&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurse informed that the infant’s eyes should be protected from the blue light. So whenever we placed the baby in the crib under the phototherapy, one of us always had to hold a folded longish cloth (like a shawl) over the eyes to act as a shield.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, the baby had to undergo the phototherapy for over 10 hrs. If the baby slept for the entire 10 hr duration, then all is well. But newborns being newborns, they wake up every once in an hour or whenever they feel its time to bother the people around! And if they wake up at a time when no one is around, lo and behold, they start gazing into the Blue World and no parent wants the eyes of their just born to stare into intense wavelength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we (whosoever in the ward donning the role of attendants) took turns to provide this shield to the eyes by manually standing over the crib and holding the folded cloth over the eyes. It was on one such occasion, when I was bending over the crib, holding the cloth taut over either sides of the crib, thereby shielding the eyes, that the attending sister saw me. She didn’t say anything but I could see that she was appreciative of the Fatherly Love, of the Father taking pains to protect his daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost an hour passed by and relentlessly I stayed put in the same position: bent over the crib, folded cloth taut over sides of the crib, shielding the baby’s eyes. Again, the same sister popped into the ward. She saw me in the same position she had seen me almost an hour ago. She asked me to move aside. She looked around. She found couple of cloths lying hither and thither. She took both of them and neatly folded both into brick like formations. She kept the two brick-like folded cloths on either side of the infant’s head. She took the folded cloth (which I was using as the shield) from me and tucked either ends of it over and underneath the two brick-like folded cloths. This automatically acted as a shield over the infant’s eyes. This done, she walked away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gWooD9EWyhQ/TZ9PeI4-SuI/AAAAAAAAE7s/gc3oZkh0Ank/s1600/Baby%2B011.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gWooD9EWyhQ/TZ9PeI4-SuI/AAAAAAAAE7s/gc3oZkh0Ank/s200/Baby%2B011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593276641418562274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Imagine my state. I felt stupid. It showed absolute zero ‘Apply Thought’ process from me. I work for one of the esteemed companies who recruits associates testing only keen intelligence and here I was making a mockery of myself in front of attending nurses. The nurse having showed me how to automate a tedious menial task had deflated me completely, and suddenly, with nothing to be done, I sat down. It took a moment for me to digest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I realized that perhaps if the exercise had seemed boring to me, I too would have thought a way out of it. But the fact was, it didn’t seem boring. It didn’t seem tedious. It was nice to be there, near my daughter, sharing her treatment (my hands were undergoing phototherapy too!), being sorry for her to have to feel the emitted heat, staring at her small features, admiring them, being fascinated by them – and it was as if I was enjoying every moment of it and the fact that it had been almost an hour hadn’t even struck me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s what happens when we become parents.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1620179774285922871?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1620179774285922871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1620179774285922871&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1620179774285922871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1620179774285922871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/04/neonatal-phototherapy.html' title='Neonatal Phototherapy'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gWooD9EWyhQ/TZ9PeI4-SuI/AAAAAAAAE7s/gc3oZkh0Ank/s72-c/Baby%2B011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-416619278531157703</id><published>2011-04-07T13:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T13:47:22.676-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pet Names</title><content type='html'>Calling babies by pet names comes naturally to me. I am not sure how it happens or what makes me decide on a particular pet name but I end up with one pet name per baby after spending some time with her (or him, as the case may be).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the pet names I have given to my younger cousins are &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Koli &lt;/span&gt;(mid 1990s), &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Pammu &lt;/span&gt;(late 1990s), &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kuttamma &lt;/span&gt;(mid 2000s) [yes, there was one new cousin every once in few years!] and most recently, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Gundamma &lt;/span&gt;(2010) for my neighbour. Now these pet names are despite these little wonders having a name of their own. Somehow, just spending some time with these bundles of joy, leads me to a name which sticks to my mind and I can’t help calling them the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my daughter was born, I hadn’t thought of a pet name for her. My mother-in-law started from day one to call her as &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sonu&lt;/span&gt;. She informed that &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sonu&lt;/span&gt; means gold and hence she equated my daughter to the value of gold. But in my case, the pet names did not have meanings. It just was a free expression, a name that had no meaning and yet contained pots of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was only after a month or so that I accidentally hit onto my daughter’s pet name. It just so happens that infants need talking to which mothers and the mothers-in-law are good at but the fathers are not so. Give an infant a silent father and it starts shrieking to glory. But make the father speak and the infant starts getting interested and listens to the strange sound. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one fine morning in November 2010, when my daughter was about one month old, I was watching the TV and my mother-in-law was handling her and my wife was trying to catch up on lost sleep of the previous night. My MIL got busy and hence deposited the baby on my lap and went to attend her chores. Within a minute or so, the baby started crying (while heretofore she was fine with the MIL). So my MIL asked me to talk to her and keep her engaged. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, this is not an easy task – to talk to a person who does not understand a thing you are saying, and also not to expect back a response. So, you got to keep rambling on and kind of speak out loud whatever is in your mind on a real-time basis just so that sound waves get transmitted from your mouth to the person’s ears which stop the person from crying out loud out of pure ennui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was at this juncture – when I was babbling some gibberish much to my MIL’s silent laughter - that I looked at her cheeks and uttered the words &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Tontu Moli&lt;/span&gt; (pronounced with a drag of the second ‘o’). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Tontu Moli&lt;/span&gt; ended up being my pet name for my daughter. And now, 5 months later, I can’t help calling her &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Tontu &lt;/span&gt;over a hundred times a day and I love it every time I do!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-416619278531157703?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/416619278531157703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=416619278531157703&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/416619278531157703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/416619278531157703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/04/pet-names.html' title='Pet Names'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-868445449221216009</id><published>2011-04-05T13:38:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T13:39:26.393-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Novels</title><content type='html'>Way back in mid 1990s when I started reading novels (thanks to Hardy Boys), I noticed that novels can be mainly classified into two categories: Old and New. The differentiation being in print and appearance and style of writing and even in smell! The rummy thing was that Old always won against New in my preference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were New novels and Old novels and I invariably enjoyed reading the Old ones more than the New ones. This feeling has not changed even now. There is something about an antique novel, which has withstood the passage of time that makes the novel most cherished and enjoyable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just the other day, I chanced upon a couple of Wodehouse novels. While one seemed new with nice paperback, the other had some pages torn. I chose the latter without hesitation. The desire of choosing the Old novels is still afire within me even now. And yes, many a time I have smelt the charm in the old book!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-868445449221216009?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/868445449221216009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=868445449221216009&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/868445449221216009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/868445449221216009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/04/old-novels.html' title='Old Novels'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-5567009194612513124</id><published>2011-04-03T13:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T13:57:17.904-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Indian Victories in Cricket World Cup</title><content type='html'>Cricket World Cup takes place once in four years and its first edition was in 1975.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was born on April 16th 1980. My wife was born on April 16th 1983. The first Cricket World Cup that took place after both me and my wife’s birth was held in the year 1983 from June 9 to June 25. As it turned out, India won its first Cricket World Cup in this 1983 tournament.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daughter was born on October 11th 2010. The first Cricket World Cup that took place after her birth was held in the year 2011 from Feb 19 to Apr 2. As it turned out, India won its second Cricket World Cup in this 2011 tournament (after a 28 year drought).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While me and my wife became the lucky charm and influenced (in our own astral way) a victory for India in 1983, our daughter has become the lucky charm and influenced (in her own astral way) a victory for India in 2011. The three of us feel important to have played a role in India’s World Cup victories ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for India to win the 2015 World Cup, me and my wife have to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-5567009194612513124?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/5567009194612513124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=5567009194612513124&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5567009194612513124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5567009194612513124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/04/indian-victories-in-cricket-world-cup.html' title='Indian Victories in Cricket World Cup'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7140865007003654546</id><published>2011-03-31T13:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T13:59:39.938-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mysterious Chill</title><content type='html'>On one winter night of 2010, I was driving from Jalahalli (my in-laws place) to Jayanagar (my place) at about 9 pm in my two wheeler. It was still early for the night and hence I did not expect it to be chilly. Therefore I refused to wear jacket when offered by my wife who was then staying at her mother’s place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine my surprise when – after about 10 minutes drive - I suddenly felt real chilly. I started regretting having refused the jacket. I was astonished about the ferocity of the winter even at 9 pm and I reflected that I had underestimated the wind factor combined with the wintry cold. However, there was nothing much that I could do and hence I drove on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten minutes later, the chill was gone and it remained so for the rest of the journey. The temperature was normal, average and bearable – something that Bangalore is so famous for. This too surprised me. How can the winter night increase and decrease its temperature in a matter of minutes? Common sense tells that the temperature drops as dusk turns to night and increases as dawn turns to day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, while I was still driving, I started thinking that perhaps it was the environment that was causing the temperature fluctuations. The road where I felt most chill was BEL road, the stretch between M S Ramaiah Hospital and C V Raman Road. This particular stretch is one of the best roads in Bangalore. It still has the old Bangalore charm with its arching canopy of massive trees covering the complete road for over a mile. Its like being in the middle of a forest!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I passed this stretch, it was pretty much a tree-free zone (thanks to road widening projects which have axed so many trees in Bangalore) and I was amidst the traffic for miles together. So, the chilly effect in BEL Road was accentuated by the trees and the chill in the tree-free zone was offset by the traffic pollution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once more, like so many times in the past, I rued trees getting axed in Bangalore due to its burgeoning population. The above episode is a classic example of global warming. More people means more vehicles which mean less space on road which leads to trees getting axed which leads to an overall increase in temperature which melts the ice in Arctic and Antarctic Poles which increases the overall sea water which will then start swallowing coastal cities and the population therein which spells disaster. Sigh. The vicious circle. Hopefully the Metro will stop the tree felling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I reached Jayanagar and my musings stopped. Well, something to occupy the mind for the hour long drive…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7140865007003654546?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7140865007003654546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7140865007003654546&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7140865007003654546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7140865007003654546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/03/mysterious-chill.html' title='The Mysterious Chill'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7749481558681303649</id><published>2011-03-22T09:26:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T13:58:56.632-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Which is Better?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;To drink:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Use a re-usable paper cup (that would mean loss of bamboo trees)?&lt;br /&gt;OR &lt;br /&gt;Use a steel tumbler but wash it with water that will be recycled (that would still reduce the already depleted fresh water) ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;To save electricity:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remind people to switch off lights by pasting print outs on backs of doors (that would mean loss of bamboo trees)?&lt;br /&gt;OR&lt;br /&gt;Allow the light to be wasted and save trees (that would mean loss of electricity)?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7749481558681303649?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7749481558681303649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7749481558681303649&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7749481558681303649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7749481558681303649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/03/which-is-better.html' title='Which is Better?'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1609631607714928530</id><published>2011-03-11T13:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-11T13:59:23.089-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Population</title><content type='html'>Due to expensive cost of living, many urban families now opt for ‘We Two, Ours One’ policy of having a single kid. Some &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One-child_policy"&gt;countries&lt;/a&gt; are also popularizing having one child in a family to reduce population explosion by way of giving tax exemptions. If the trend continues, the terms ‘sibling’,‘brother’ and ‘sister’ are in danger of becoming extinct.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To understand how the ‘Single-child’ policy assists in controlling the population explosion, let us take an example:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say, in 1975, two couples got married. Lets call them Family A and Family B. So we have 4 people in 1975.&lt;br /&gt;Say, in 1980, these two couples bore one child each. Family A bore a boy and Family B bore a girl. So, we have 6 people in 1980.&lt;br /&gt;Say, in 2005, the boy and girl met and married one another. So, Families A and B now got combined and now consist of 6 people.&lt;br /&gt;Say, in 2008, the boy and girl bore a child. Hence, in 2008, Families A and B now are 7 people in total.&lt;br /&gt;Say, in 2010, the boy and the girl’s parents died. So, Families A and B now are 3 people in total.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, what do we get? In 1975, the total strength of Families A and B combined was 4 and 25 years later, the total strength of Families A and B combined is 3. That’s a reduction of 1 in the population in a span of 25 years from 2 families. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets extrapolate this to actual figures. &lt;a href="http://www.google.com/publicdata?ds=wb-wdi&amp;met=sp_pop_totl&amp;idim=country:IND&amp;dl=en&amp;hl=en&amp;q=population#met=sp_pop_totl&amp;idim=country:IND&amp;tdim=true"&gt;Population of the world&lt;/a&gt; in 1960 was 3031720298 and 3071626008 in 1961. So 39905710 took birth between 1960 and 1961. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The male-female ratio tips in favour of both parties across decades. Also, one man does not bear children with only woman and one woman does not bear children with only one man. So, for the sake of a simple argument, lets ignore all that and consider that out of 39905710, half were men and half were women and the former half married the latter half in 1975 and they all lost their parents due to some natural calamity and hence, the total population of the world then would have been 39905710. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now lets suppose each couple bore one child in the year 1980. So we have 39905710 + 19952855 = 59858565 as the total population off the world in 1980 and 19952855 (which is 39905710/2) new people added in 1980 alone. To continue the argument in the same vein, we need the number to be even, so lets suppose one child died immediately after birth. Hence, the new population added in 1980 now is 19952854 and half of them are boys and half of them are girls who get married to one another in 2005 and bear one child each in 2008. So, the new population added in 2008 is (19952854/2) = 9976427 and the total population in 2008 is 59858565 + 9976427 = 69834992.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2010, the folks who were present in 1975 all died and hence the world’s population in 2010 would now be = 69834992 – 39905710 = 29929282. This is a reduction of (39905710 – 29929282) = 9976428 people in the world in a span of 25 years. That’s almost a 10 million people less!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In reality, between 1975 and 2010, the population grew by over 2.5 Billion people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1609631607714928530?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1609631607714928530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1609631607714928530&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1609631607714928530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1609631607714928530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/03/population.html' title='Population'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-391847121263076267</id><published>2011-03-10T12:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T12:50:04.849-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The 3 Hs</title><content type='html'>I visit &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raghavendra_Swami"&gt;Sri Raghavendra Swamy&lt;/a&gt; Mutt (a place of worship) on &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2007/10/thursday.html"&gt;Thursdays&lt;/a&gt;. I have a habit to thank Him for mainly 3 Hs: House, Health and Harmony. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;House &lt;/span&gt;is for providing shelter and for enabling me to own property of my own.&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Health &lt;/span&gt;is for keeping away the illness and keeping the physical body fit.&lt;br /&gt;3. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Harmony &lt;/span&gt;is for mental peace and a tensionless “I have all I want” life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have a habit of assessing my current state of affairs in a binary manner: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. Either I am like an infant comfortably sleeping on Swamy’s lap without a care in the world&lt;br /&gt;b. Or I am falling down a bottomless well and waiting for the inevitable end to hit me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most Thursdays, all of the above are satisfied and I thank Him for all the Hs.&lt;br /&gt;-So the position of affairs is that of an infant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some Thursdays, one of the above is not satisfied and the grouse against it will be occupying my mind and I thank for the remaining 2 Hs. &lt;br /&gt;-So the position of affairs is that of a bottomless well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Few Thursdays, two of the above are not satisfied and the grouse against it will be occupying my mind and I thank for the remaining 1 H. &lt;br /&gt;-So the position of affairs is that of a bottomless well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Thursday, for the first time, all of the above were not satisfied…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-391847121263076267?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/391847121263076267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=391847121263076267&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/391847121263076267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/391847121263076267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/03/3-hs.html' title='The 3 Hs'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7610049815725275586</id><published>2011-03-01T12:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-01T12:24:17.468-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Good and Bad</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sometimes if something happens that we think is for good, it might well turn out that it is for bad.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes if something happens that we think is for bad, it might well turn out that it is for good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nature's way of playing a joke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7610049815725275586?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7610049815725275586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7610049815725275586&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7610049815725275586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7610049815725275586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/03/good-and-bad.html' title='Good and Bad'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-4048895756360440561</id><published>2011-02-28T08:55:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-28T10:14:27.305-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The (Food) Weekend That Was</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Friday Evening snacks:&lt;/span&gt; Road-side Capsicum Bhajji and Aloo Bonda; Bhel Puri at Shanti Upahar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Saturday Breakfast:&lt;/span&gt; Idly with Sambar at Shanti Upahar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Saturday Lunch:&lt;/span&gt; Veg Dragon Noodles parcel from Chungs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Saturday Dinner:&lt;/span&gt; Pani Puri, Masala Puri, Mirchi, Phulka with ennegai, champakali. All home made. Topped off with Gold Label whisky on the rocks. Get together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sunday Morning:&lt;/span&gt; Home made coffee at road side on the way to Paaparapatti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sunday Lunch:&lt;/span&gt; Thali at Ananthalakshmi Hotel in Palacode. Boasts itself as High Class but... :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sunday Dinner:&lt;/span&gt; Sambar made of Lady's finger and rice. Topped off with another brand of whisky and Ambode! Another get-together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-4048895756360440561?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/4048895756360440561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=4048895756360440561&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4048895756360440561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4048895756360440561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/02/food-weekend-that-was.html' title='The (Food) Weekend That Was'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-5357073396908617150</id><published>2011-02-23T12:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T12:37:09.011-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Debates</title><content type='html'>I hate debates. These days, there are a lot of debates shown on TV. Pundits of the language and great orators come on stage and battle it out. It is in fact amazing. But the thing I hate about debates is that the guy who is for “pro” can talk equally well when he suddenly finds himself in the “con” team and the “con” guy can bring up equally better points when asked to promote the “pro” debate. The guys are so good in talking that they just need a forum to speak and it doesn’t matter if they are “pro” or they are “con”. Their real feelings are actually masked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-5357073396908617150?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/5357073396908617150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=5357073396908617150&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5357073396908617150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5357073396908617150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/02/debates.html' title='Debates'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-61261361050097775</id><published>2011-02-23T12:36:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T12:36:53.427-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Looks and Skills</title><content type='html'>Looks and Skills are somehow related. There are occasions when I have made some kind of impression on seeing a new person but this impression undergoes a drastic change a few months later when I realize the person’s potential or lack of it. For instance, there was this new guy in my team who looked like an alien with beaked nose and adam’s apple. But a few months later I realized the guy was really good at his work. I came to realize that I was no longer considering him as an odd looking person but in fact I started respecting him and preferred his company. Ditto with one good looking gal in my team. She seemed nice and looked nice and seemed as a nice company to have in the team but after working with her for a few months, realized that she was not good and not a preferred person to have in the team.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-61261361050097775?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/61261361050097775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=61261361050097775&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/61261361050097775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/61261361050097775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/02/looks-and-skills.html' title='Looks and Skills'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1569767664199809528</id><published>2011-02-23T12:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T12:36:33.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Women and Footwear</title><content type='html'>There is something about Women and Footwear. I have seen many of my female colleagues and colleagues’ female colleagues being crazy about footwear. There is this person who has a wardrobe full of footwear – enough for her to wear one pair once in a year. There is another person who takes so much care of her feet that she wears socks if there is sunlight to ensure it doesn’t tan! I knew couple of my (gal) friends who would pass their time in a mall looking at men’s footwear and rate their personality! Strange!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1569767664199809528?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1569767664199809528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1569767664199809528&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1569767664199809528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1569767664199809528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/02/women-and-footwear.html' title='Women and Footwear'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-8094553814441356335</id><published>2011-02-23T12:36:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T12:36:15.441-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hindus and Muslims and Moon</title><content type='html'>In 2010, Ganesha festival for Hindus and Ramzan festival for Muslims fell on same day. I guess (I may be wrong here) Muslim folks had to see Moon and (this I know for sure) Hindu folks had to avoid seeing Moon. If the belief is for goodness to prevail on Earth, then Muslim folks would want all Hindus to see Moon too and Hindus would want all Muslim folks to avoid seeing Moon. How exactly opposite!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-8094553814441356335?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/8094553814441356335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=8094553814441356335&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8094553814441356335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8094553814441356335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/02/hindus-and-muslims-and-moon.html' title='Hindus and Muslims and Moon'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-5635251879111403973</id><published>2011-02-23T12:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T12:35:31.435-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Job: Bread or Joy</title><content type='html'>I sometimes wonder what is more important. A job that brings home the bread (or bacon as the case may be) or a job that gives joy? Bread is a necessity; joy is optional. So we have four main classifications: No bread, no joy (unemployed and doing nothing); Only bread, no joy (a grocery shop owner working over 12 hours a day seven days a week to make ends meet); No bread, only joy (unemployed but volunteering); Bread and joy (sportsperson). Of course, the two important variations are “Little Bread; More Joy”, “More Bread; Little Joy” amongst which the majority of the middle class get into.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-5635251879111403973?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/5635251879111403973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=5635251879111403973&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5635251879111403973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5635251879111403973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/02/job-bread-or-joy.html' title='Job: Bread or Joy'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-6319249774286559978</id><published>2011-02-23T12:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T12:30:04.891-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunlight</title><content type='html'>Sunlight is important to a certain extent. It enriches the human body with Vitamin D. But the current craze of the modern women to be fair depletes the essential vitamin in their body resulting in future complications. Even for a short walk from the office cubicle to the canteen, from the bus to the office cubicle, young women nowadays open up the umbrella. Fairness, after all, is not everything. Health is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-6319249774286559978?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/6319249774286559978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=6319249774286559978&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6319249774286559978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6319249774286559978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/02/sunlight.html' title='Sunlight'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1342457396604616973</id><published>2011-02-23T12:29:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T12:29:47.027-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Americans in India</title><content type='html'>When in America, the pleasant thing to notice is that Americans look you in the eye and say “Hello” or something to that effect and sometimes even go so far as to comment on a topic of mutual interest. But when an American is in India, they act like Indians and act as if you do not even exist. So unfortunate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1342457396604616973?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1342457396604616973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1342457396604616973&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1342457396604616973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1342457396604616973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/02/americans-in-india.html' title='Americans in India'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7410261920579772900</id><published>2011-02-23T12:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-23T12:27:36.902-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The AC Service Boy</title><content type='html'>In an AC compartment, the service boy – the person who provides the bedspread and the pillows and manages the air conditioner – is made to sleep just outside the AC zone. That is so miserly. How much more AC will another few feet take up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7410261920579772900?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7410261920579772900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7410261920579772900&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7410261920579772900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7410261920579772900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/02/ac-service-boy.html' title='The AC Service Boy'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-548825603621856193</id><published>2011-02-11T13:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-11T13:15:49.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One Day in a Meeting...</title><content type='html'>We once had a meeting with some important dignitaries. The dignitaries were in location A and we were in location B. We were about a 100 of us in location B and the dignitaries in location A could see us through videoconference. For almost entire duration of the meeting, the camera in location B was focused on the powerpoint which the dignitaries were referring to and for that duration, the dignitaries never looked at location B’s video. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just at the very end of the hour’s meeting, a guy in location B pressed the switch corresponding to his seat (there is a switch in everyone’s desk used to enable the microphone so as to ask questions). What happens when the switch is switched on is that the camera starts to focus on the person who pressed the switch because the camera expects him to speak. But the person who pressed the switch had no intention of speaking. He merely pressed the switch out of boredom but was now suddenly shown on big screen visible to everyone in location A and location B instead of the powerpoint. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just so happened that in the frame that the camera focused on the person, two ladies were also visible who were sitting in the prior row and these two ladies were dozing away to glory. They were dozing in such style that one could easily make out they were sleeping for the entire duration of the meeting. Their near-horizontal orientation in their seats gave evidence to the fact that they had not been hearing a word of what the dignitaries were saying since beginning. Safe in assumption that the location B’s camera was focused on the powerpoint and would not be wandering across the room, these two ladies had compromised on their vigil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Murphy’s Law. For the duration of the meeting, the dignitaries never even saw location B’s video but at the exact juncture when the camera was focusing on the person (and the two sleeping ladies in the background), the dignitaries turned to location B’s video and asked ‘Any Questions?’ They saw the sleeping ladies on the screen and gave a wry smile while the audience in location A giggled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another person in location B had quick presence of mind. He immediately realized the gravity of the situation and pressed his own switch so that the camera shifted its focus onto him although he too had nothing to speak. A non-speaking attentive person is better than two sleeping ladies. Alas, this switch to the new person was not seen by the dignitaries. Someone in location A had asked a question and they got busy answering that question.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole incident was profound in several ways. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ There were 90 odd people really attentive for the entire duration of the meeting in location B but still an impression would have been created in the dignitaries’ minds that attendees in location A were sleeping. What an irony. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ The two ladies became a laughing stock of location A and a big embarrassment for location B just because some guy near them pressed a small red button out of curiosity and boredom! Butterfly effect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ Only one guy out of 100 had the presence of mind to act quickly; to press his own red button to save the entire location B’s reputation although in vain. And this person did not belong to senior management nor was employed as highly skilled. In all probability, his pay scale belonged to the lowest slabs in comparison to everyone in that meeting hall. And yet he did what 100 of us so-called 'skilled employees' never thought of doing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-548825603621856193?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/548825603621856193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=548825603621856193&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/548825603621856193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/548825603621856193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/02/one-day-in-meeting.html' title='One Day in a Meeting...'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-5635564450640068321</id><published>2011-02-09T10:14:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T10:14:54.753-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ear"shot"</title><content type='html'>On my way back from office today in bus, I was sitting next to a woman who was sitting next to another woman and although I wanted to sleep desperately I couldn’t because these two women were talking in not-so-hushed voice all the way from office to my destination. And it was not just “talk” talk but it was filled with venom against their respective husbands, about how their husbands were spend thrift, how horribly they managed the home, how stupidly they bought groceries, etc. Each person was giving one example after the other and it was as if they were trying to better the previous example. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I reflected the same thing happening to my life and I couldn’t imagine a minute of it. None of the grouse points the women complained I did – so I cannot imagine my wife saying the same against me. And even if I did, I doubt if my wife would rant about them all in an hour’s dialogue with her friend in a public place. Its imperative that husband and wife stand together as a wall in a marriage instead of speaking behind each other’s back negatively else its no longer a happy married life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be fair to the women, some of the complaints they had against their men were in some ways valid and the hubbies seemed nutty to behave the way the women said they did. I wonder why some hubbies are so nutty. I guess the ego factor kicks in when they suddenly find themselves married! I pitied the women that they were leading such terrible lives. And perhaps they were talking (in local dialect) so easily assuming the I was not a localite. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like software projects, I feel there should be a family auditing process once in a year to ensure that families run smoothly! After all it is important not to pile huge amount of garbage every day, not to waste water, electricity unnecessarily, etc. too. [Some of the grouse points included these!] Have cameras in the house for a week or so to monitor the workings in the house! Like a reality show! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t have the guts to stand up and ask them not to discuss about their personal grouses in public places but I guess it was etiquette that stopped me. After all, I should mind my own business. There was so much negative energy in that one hour that by the time I got out of the bus, I was feeling sick of it all. If this is what I felt for one hour, imagine their whole lives filled with it! No wonder divorces are on the rise!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I should take cotton to plug my ears shut next time I want to sleep in bus…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-5635564450640068321?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/5635564450640068321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=5635564450640068321&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5635564450640068321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5635564450640068321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/02/earshot.html' title='Ear&quot;shot&quot;'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-164614715426492713</id><published>2011-02-03T10:25:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T10:25:53.331-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hope</title><content type='html'>When I was leaving office to home today, I passed a cubicle where a client interview was going on. The interviewee was telling about himself. He mentioned a product based company from where he had had his previous experience as a Test Lead. In my brisk pace, I moved on and did not hear the rest of it. But it made me wonder why anyone would want to come to a service based company from a product based company especially in the Testing Domain. While I walked on, I mused. The answer came soon enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The United States of America. A Hope.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continued to walk and then wondered why some of my ex-colleagues who were also Test Leads moved to a product based company. Strangely enough, in most cases, the reason was still the same, but twisted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The United States of America. A Hope Shattered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-164614715426492713?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/164614715426492713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=164614715426492713&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/164614715426492713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/164614715426492713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/02/hope.html' title='The Hope'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-2879546608453749819</id><published>2011-01-26T00:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T00:50:13.237-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back-to-Back 'Never-Before's</title><content type='html'>Immediately after graduation (more than eight years ago), I searched for a job. I saw an ad in the newspaper for fresher recruitment for a call center job and I attended it. I scraped through the written test and was asked to undergo a second round of interview. This interview was conducted by an external agency which concentrated more on everything that was related to audio - like voice modulation, accent, grammatical correctness, etc. Prior to this interview, there was a brief 10 minute presentation given by one of the members in this external agency for all those who were about to undergo the audio interview. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This presentation was mind blowing. It was like a ‘never-before’ experience for me. From the beginning till the end, the presenter kept us all in rapt attention at the same time cracking sufficient jokes to diffuse our tension. The way he spoke, the way he moved his hands, the way he smiled – it was like a live performance on stage. He was basically giving us the heads-up on the interview and all the necessary instructions. But each such instruction was filled with wit and hence it stayed in the memory. At the end of the presentation, I was in awe of him and admired his profession and the way he was executing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It just so happened that I flunked in that second round. But within a week the same call center company visited my college for recruitment. Again I cleared the first round and again I was asked to attend the second “audio” round in the same external agency. Again there was a presentation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my shock, the same presenter said the same sentences, the same words, the same jokes with the same body language! It was indeed a stage play! He was like an actor. I initially had presumed that all he was saying was impromptu but in reality it was more like a practiced enactment! Then I figured that he would be giving the same presentation about 20 odd times during the day five days a week all through the year for different batches. That was his job!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, how boring can that be! My whole perception of him and his profession underwent a complete turn around! I was no longer in awe of him or his profession! In fact I was feeling a trifle disappointed and even sorry for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny. What enthralled me in the first time disappointed me the next time. It was something I had not experienced before. So, it was again a ‘never-before’ experience!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: This time I cleared the second 'audio' round and after one more round of interview, I got my first job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-2879546608453749819?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/2879546608453749819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=2879546608453749819&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2879546608453749819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2879546608453749819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/01/back-to-back-never-befores.html' title='Back-to-Back &apos;Never-Before&apos;s'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-6494283079254635296</id><published>2011-01-17T10:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T10:20:18.635-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Thank You Note</title><content type='html'>There are multiple theories and stories and names regarding '&lt;a href="http://www.google.co.in/search?sourceid=chrome&amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;q=who+invented+diaper"&gt;Who invented the first diaper&lt;/a&gt;?' but whoever it is, bless his/her soul! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What an invention! A BIG thank you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-6494283079254635296?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/6494283079254635296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=6494283079254635296&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6494283079254635296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6494283079254635296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/01/thank-you-note.html' title='A Thank You Note'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-2487810843015453827</id><published>2011-01-17T10:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T10:10:34.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Home and Work</title><content type='html'>During childhood "Home Work" is such a dreaded phrase.&lt;br /&gt;During adulthood "Working from home" is such a welcome phrase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-2487810843015453827?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/2487810843015453827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=2487810843015453827&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2487810843015453827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2487810843015453827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/01/home-and-work.html' title='Home and Work'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-4417595980501929841</id><published>2011-01-05T10:36:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-05T10:50:58.847-05:00</updated><title type='text'>On "Wings of Fire"</title><content type='html'>I recently finished reading the celebrated book ‘&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wings_of_Fire"&gt;Wings of Fire&lt;/a&gt;’ depicted on the life and works of Dr APJ Abdul Kalam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a wonderful book that made me think a lot. To imagine that a person who hailed from such a small house (picture depicted in the book) rising to such an extent as to become the President of India is simply unimaginable. After having read that book, I was not sure if I was inspired or demotivated. Inspired because he has brought the country to forefront in Defence Technology; Demotivated because I feel as if I have achieved nothing till date. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part about the book is it gives life to many eminent personalities which were but just names in the history. Vikram Sarabhai is someone I had just read about in the books but never gave a thought but after reading this book, I realized what a great personality he was. I was personally very touched when I heard about his death in the book. Ditto with Prof Brahm Prakash. Like wise, the book showcases and appreciates so many great personalities that at one point you feel as if you are reading about the Leading Scientists of India rather than just about Dr APJ Abdul Kalam! (Footnote: Apart from Mrs Indira Gandhi, there is no notable mention of any eminent lady-personalities / female-scientists in the book – a food for thought on it’s own!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the post-Independence era, it is possible that one had thoughts of improving one’s country. But somehow I feel that we are now living in an era when we want the world to be a better place and not just country. Look at &lt;a href="http://www.earthhour.org/"&gt;Earth Hour&lt;/a&gt;. Likewise, so many countries are working in harmony to churn out new products in shorter span of time making best use of the daylight across the globe due to the Earth’s rotation. As they say, the world is flat now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there were sections in the book which miffed me. At one point, Dr Kalam mentions that professionals going abroad and settling down in foreign countries is not a thing to be proud of (not same words but that’s the gist). Well, I don’t know about that. Doesn’t it speak volumes for Indians to compete in the global arena and not just compete, but come out successful to such an extent that it jitters &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/09/compliments-from-president-of-usa.html"&gt;prominent World Leaders to ask their countries’ younger generation to buck up&lt;/a&gt;?! Isn’t that an achievement? To view the fact that one goes abroad and settles down for a comfortable life is just an aesthetic outlook. The effort and struggle that has gone into competing in the Global Workforce is something to be noticed and appreciated. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about me (and millions like me)? It is not without struggle that I have managed to be what I am. It is not without effort that I have managed to get accolades from professionals across the continents, to work in and amongst professionals across the world and still be appreciated (I am speaking on behalf of millions of Indians here). Isn’t that an achievement? Or is it an achievement only if we get Bharat Ratna? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about family life? It is not easy to have a family life and a professional life. Each demands a significant section of life and to come out successful in both is an achievement on its own. Again, to view marriage life as a walk in the park holding hands is just an aesthetic outlook. The effort and struggle that goes on to walk the tight rope of family life as well as continue to excel in work is a challenge in itself which perhaps Dr Kalam never experienced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To think about rockets and missiles 20 hours a day, 365 days a year is indeed laudable. But is that all life is about? We get only one life. Should we not experience every bit of it instead of working up ourselves to such turmoil as to deliver the goods and achieve great heights? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I guess it is such thoughts as these that differ me from great personalities! If we have people just like me, and we never had people like Dr Kalam, we wouldn’t have been safe from enemies and leading such a peaceful life as we are now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frankly, a big Thank You to Dr APJ Abdul Kalam for highlighting the progress of Indian Space Research Program and for his efforts in making India what it is. The thought that came to my mind repeatedly when I read the book was the thought that always comes to my mind:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://whenthoughtscease.blogspot.com/2009/02/endaro-mahanubhavuluandariki.html"&gt;Endaro Mahanubhavulu Andariki Vandanamulu&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Janani, a good friend of mine, after reading the book asked Dr Kalam a question that is common to every reader. The question and Dr Kalam’s answer is reproduced [with permission from Janani] below to stop further readers asking same question to Dr Kalam! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On 7/15/08, Janani Krishnan &lt;krishnan.janani@gmail.com&gt; wrote: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Dear Sir,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just finished reading the book "Wings of fire". I found it very interesting and inspiring. The thoughts expressed in the book are profound and your personality is very motivating, the characteristic that stands out among many, is your simplicity. However, towards the end of the book a question started taking shape and i could not come up with a convincing reply. At this point, i decided to write to you. I would consider myself very lucky, if you would clarify this nagging doubt of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is no denying the fact that its the effort of all the scientists working ardently towards the technological advances which has put India on the global map. Like you have said in the book, this proved to the world India's capability and capacity to develop and successfully implement many an indigenous techniques and inventions, to be able to be on par with developed nations. The term "Missile man", as you are fondly known to us, indeed does complete justice to your dedication and devotion to work. Thank you for setting such high standards for us and being the personality whom we can look up to!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question that is troubling me is this - Missiles, the main objective of one is destruction! If in future there is an outbreak of war (God forbid), then wouldn't these missiles be put into use? Wouldn't millions of people die in the process? Of course, that would be only to defend ourselves, But, ultimately it is used for destruction! I have read somewhere (I am not sure how much of truth is in this piece of information)  that Alfred Nobel, was disillusioned and depressed because he felt guilty that his invention - the dynamite - was responsible for the death of numerous lives. The reason for him to have donated his fortune towards the Nobel Foundation was to appease this guilt. Sir, my question to you is, would you also feel the same if a scenario like this should occur? If one devotes one's entire life and energy towards a goal which may ultimately serve the purpose of destruction, is it justified? Can you please give me your view point on this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have put down my questions and doubts as they occurred to me. Please do forgive me if there is anything offensive in the content of this email.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanking you&lt;br /&gt;Janani&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Wed, Jul 16, 2008 at 2:52 PM, Abdulkalam APJ &lt;apj@abdulkalam.com&gt; wrote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Dear Janani,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Thank you for your mail. Technology is double edged weapon. It can be used for societal upliftment and also for destruction. Technology basically is innocent. It is how the political system use as the technology. If there is an enlightened user, there is no damage to the society. We always hope, we will have enlightened uses. My association with missile is purely scientific. In that science process I have no regrets. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Greetings and best wishes &lt;br /&gt;Kalam &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-4417595980501929841?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/4417595980501929841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=4417595980501929841&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4417595980501929841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4417595980501929841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/01/on-wings-of-fire.html' title='On &quot;Wings of Fire&quot;'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-4985456401333659543</id><published>2011-01-01T12:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T12:54:07.049-05:00</updated><title type='text'>On Track</title><content type='html'>Start Date : 1-Oct-10&lt;br /&gt;End Date : 31-Dec-10&lt;br /&gt;Number of working days : 64&lt;br /&gt;Number of days worked : 46&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/10/earned-leaves.html"&gt;4-day week&lt;/a&gt; still looks tempting for 3 more quarters!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-4985456401333659543?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/4985456401333659543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=4985456401333659543&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4985456401333659543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4985456401333659543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2011/01/on-track.html' title='On Track'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7223780857706584672</id><published>2010-12-31T07:59:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-31T08:03:49.382-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2010 - 2011</title><content type='html'>Today is the end of a week.&lt;br /&gt;Today is the end of a month.&lt;br /&gt;Today is the end of a year.&lt;br /&gt;Today is the end of a decade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2010 - what a year it has been!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's welcoming 2011.&lt;br /&gt;A year that starts with 1.1.11 should surely be special!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A very happy new year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7223780857706584672?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7223780857706584672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7223780857706584672&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7223780857706584672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7223780857706584672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/12/2010-2011.html' title='2010 - 2011'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1731547049756741443</id><published>2010-12-20T12:43:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T12:43:36.175-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Being Samaritan Vs Getting Mugged</title><content type='html'>At about midnight, couple of days ago, I was driving in my car near BEL circle when I noticed a girl in her twenties wearing an exquisite western dress which was very catchy. It was dark and she was standing near a pole. I could not see her face. Anyone could see that she was not a prostitute because Indian prostitutes do not wear dress like that. It was neither the time nor the place for a girl to be out on the streets let alone in such captivating attire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when I was thinking so, I saw her stagger. It became clear to me then that she was drunk. She was hopelessly drunk and on the verge of falling in the ditch. Doubtless, she belonged to the affluent category that could not just afford an expensive dress but also soak oneself in the spirits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was speeding and I zoomed away thinking how unfortunate that she was in such a state. Any one can use her at such a night to one’s own means and her life will be virtually smeared forever. Such a pity. Well, to be fair, she would have brought it on herself if she is so senseless as to roam around drunk at midnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then wondered if it was right on my part to speed away instead of assisting her and taking her to a safe place until she regained her senses or at least inform the cops about her. But who knows what her true intentions were? Perhaps she was just acting just to catch some gullible men and then mug them at gun point with the help of a hidden accomplice as soon as the car stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only this world was devoid of bad elements, it is so easy to decide and offer help. But for this small-but-powerful percentage of criminals, many a needy go helpless even from the large-but-fearful percentage of Samaritans.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1731547049756741443?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1731547049756741443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1731547049756741443&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1731547049756741443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1731547049756741443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/12/being-samaritan-vs-getting-mugged.html' title='Being Samaritan Vs Getting Mugged'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7628716893064417699</id><published>2010-12-20T11:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T11:52:22.720-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Quote of the day</title><content type='html'>"What man is a man who does not make this world a better place?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kingdom of Heaven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7628716893064417699?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7628716893064417699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7628716893064417699&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7628716893064417699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7628716893064417699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/12/quote-of-day.html' title='Quote of the day'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-3110454125533143084</id><published>2010-12-18T12:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T12:37:02.635-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Welcome Note</title><content type='html'>When we went to &lt;a href="http://harsha-locus.blogspot.com/2010/01/paparapatti.html"&gt;Paaparapatti&lt;/a&gt; (also called Dakshina Manthralaya) in January this year as part of a routine weekend outing, the priest blessed us thus: “&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Santhaana praapthi rasthu&lt;/span&gt;” roughly translating to “&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;May you have an offspring&lt;/span&gt;”. Soon after, my wife had to attend a naming ceremony in Haveri. In such ceremonies, elders bless newly married women with a glass of milk to bear children. My wife was the newest married women in the group and hence was asked to drink the glass of milk. A belief perhaps but it definitely made my wife special!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feb 17th was &lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/02/special-day.html"&gt;a special day&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; not just because it was 2 years since me and my wife met but also because we came to know that we were going to become parents. She woke up that day at 5 am puking and we knew the reason even before the pregnancy test showed the ultimatum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What followed the next couple of weeks was a nightmare. Her nausea worsened to such an extent that even few drops of water would not stay for more than few minutes. Many people scared us saying that it will continue for all the remaining eight months for some women. Needless to say, she became dehydrated and was hospitalized. I had done enough google research to know that she was admitted for “&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hyperemesis_gravidarum"&gt;Hyperemesis Gravidarum&lt;/a&gt;.” Miraculously, three bottles of IV drops and other medication she received for one full day completely cured her nausea. She then had her first scan and the baby’s heart beat was exciting and exhilarating, going lub-dub lub-dub…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came the “Information Gathering” part. We got hooked on to &lt;a href="http://www.babycenter.com/"&gt;babycenter&lt;/a&gt;. This is one of the most useful websites I have ever come across in my life. It also has an &lt;a href="http://www.babycenter.in"&gt;Indian version&lt;/a&gt;. It has A to Z of information on pregnancy and childbirth. It also has some awesome 3 min &lt;a href="http://www.babycenter.com/video"&gt;videos&lt;/a&gt; of how the egg is penetrated, how an embryo is formed, how male and female foetus develop, how the foetus develops through the nine months, how it comes through the birth canal, how the cesarean operation is conducted, etc. It has week by week update and it became a ritual for us to sit in front of the website every Sunday to understand completely what was going on in the womb and how we could make baby’s life easy. Babycenter bridges the common man to the complicated gynecological medical world in a beautiful, seamless manner and makes it enjoyable and entertaining. It definitely was a ‘look-forward-to’ throughout the nine months. It was like driving on a highway looking forward to the milestones that come up every mile! It also made me realize that a woman’s body is biologically mind-blowing!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mid trimester (May to Jun) was uneventful and comfortable except that we &lt;a href="http://harsha-locus.blogspot.com/2010/06/kalhalli.html"&gt;drove&lt;/a&gt; once on a 100 km stretch on a two-wheeler much to many a chagrin! Every last Saturday of the month was booked for Doctor visit and it became a nice pattern, especially &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/06/weighing-machine.html"&gt;checking the weight part&lt;/a&gt;. Our gynaecologist Dr. Latha Venkataram was simply amazing. Just her presence was soothing. She was oozing with energy and efficiency. Her words were like a balm. We had couple of ante-natal classes to listen about the dos and donts, and to discuss everything under the sun with our team of reassuring five doctors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/06/first-half-of-2010.html"&gt;I mentioned&lt;/a&gt; about “Many gave good news”, my wife was one of them! In July, we celebrated our &lt;a href="http://harsha-locus.blogspot.com/2010/11/chikmagalur.html"&gt;second wedding anniversary&lt;/a&gt; (plus “Babymoon”) in Chikmagalur. What was supposed to be a relaxing getaway became adventurous trip because of unprecedented hill-climbing and steep roads. Nevertheless it was worth it. [PS: I didn't post the Chikmagalur trip details until the baby was safely born lest be scolded for undertaking such a dangerous trip at such a time of life!]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking at my wives’ “baby bump”, some said “its gonna be a boy” and some said “its gonna be a girl” and each had their own proving evidences but its not a thing to be believed. In the ninth month, a week before delivery, a relative asked if we were in the sixth month! That indicates how much the “bump” was! Keeping track of the bump progress was also interesting! Pregnancy which was ‘normal’ all through suddenly became slightly complicated in the 38th week with amniotic fluid becoming less. With kid being in the ‘breech’ (head up) position, a cesarean was inevitable. Alas, all those exercises and yoga meant for natural delivery went for a toss!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C-section had its pros. We could be prepared, we could give a date and time of our convenience and practically no labour pain. Only flip part was that I was not allowed inside the OT. So, couple of days before the operation, we went to a number of famous eating joints so that the would-be mother could enjoy the best of the best cuisines prior to the months of post-childbirth eating-restrictions. As it occurred, C-section was a blessing in disguise because the doctors found a minor fibroid after removing the baby. So, if the baby had come through the natural birth canal, my wife had to undergo a surgery anyways - after months of excruciating pain - to get the fibroid extracted. So, our daughter, by turning upside down wrongly on the 38th week, assisted us indirectly in identifying and removal of the fibroid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally the baby landed on my arms on &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/10/father-of-baby-girl.html"&gt;Oct 11, 2010&lt;/a&gt; – exactly 2 years and 3 months after we got married. She was born at 1059 hrs and weighed 2.7 kgs. Many people asked me if I felt happy about having become a dad but my only emotion was a huge relief that things had gone well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I was happy for another reason: Even before my wife went inside the OT, I had informed her that that day being a special day (because of the birth of our daughter!), Sachin will hit a century (when he was still in 44) and after her delivery, sure enough, I was told that he had hit his 49th Test century! For me, this was almost expected, after the phenomenal &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/02/200.html"&gt;200*&lt;/a&gt; he hit a week after the news of conception! Surely our daughter has brought good luck to Sachin! :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next couple of weeks was grueling. The once-in-two-hours feed was very tiring for the mother. Added to that, there is child bath, medicine, diaper-changing. It was a 24 * 7 activity that became slightly better only after a couple of months when the baby could withstand without milk for about 4-5 hrs at night. Right about then, it started smiling and it’s smile, &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/11/first-smile.html"&gt;as I already said&lt;/a&gt;, melted the annoyance of sleepless nights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Choosing a name for our daughter was not very difficult. My wife and I didn’t have to pore over books or internet. It was a name that we both liked - since almost a year. Whenever we discussed about having kids, I kind of had a feeling that we were going to have a daughter, and this name was the most preferred. But it got officialized only two months later at the naming ceremony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The name has a tangential reference in Vishnu Sahasra Naama [which both of us are devoted to] (&lt;a href="http://srivaishnavam.com/stotras/vishnu_itrans.htm"&gt;verse 32&lt;/a&gt;). The name is one of the 72 Melakartha Raagas [&lt;a href="http://harsha-s-rao.blogspot.com/2008/05/melakarta-katapayadi-mathematics.html"&gt;41st&lt;/a&gt;]. The name is part of the pallavi of &lt;a href="http://harsha-s-rao.blogspot.com/2009/06/song-of-month.html"&gt;Paalinthu Kaamaskhi song&lt;/a&gt; which we both like. The &lt;a href="http://babynamesworld.parentsconnect.com/meaning_of_Paavani.html"&gt;name means&lt;/a&gt; Purifying, or The Great Purifier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The name is Paavani.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With this, I welcome my daughter to this best of best worlds and sincerely wish all the very best in her life to achieve great heights. I just hope my wife and I can give her the right momentum and platform for her to soar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-3110454125533143084?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/3110454125533143084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=3110454125533143084&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/3110454125533143084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/3110454125533143084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/12/welcome-note.html' title='A Welcome Note'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-284918961501516358</id><published>2010-12-16T21:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T21:16:44.940-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Quotes of the day for "Abroad"</title><content type='html'>A friend: "Why live like an orphan abroad when we can live amongst family in our native land?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wodehouse's &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Coming of Bill&lt;/span&gt;: "Why go abroad when you have not yet seen the wonders of your native land?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm, food for thought...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-284918961501516358?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/284918961501516358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=284918961501516358&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/284918961501516358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/284918961501516358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/12/quotes-of-day-for-abroad.html' title='Quotes of the day for &quot;Abroad&quot;'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-4643948374526782257</id><published>2010-12-05T10:43:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T11:43:25.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It is not always what it seems</title><content type='html'>I could not understand why there are so many ads to World Cup Cricket starting Feb 2011. There are huge hoardings put in most parts of the city highlighting 2011 Cricket World Cup to be broadcast by a few Sports Channels. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could not imagine why anyone would want to spend lakhs of rupees on advertising an event which will be a mega success anyways even without any advertisement. Then I realized that the real motto of the advertisement is not to woo the already-cricket-frenzy-public to watching cricket on their channels: it is to save tax under the bracket of Advertisements and Marketing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A person is in ground floor. He wants to use the elevator. The display shows that the elevator is currently in Floor 2. He presses the button. The display starts descending: it reads 1 and then 0. As the door opens, he moves forward to enter the elevator only to find that there are people in the elevator who want to exit. So he gives way, a little taken aback to find people in the elevator. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was taken aback because he was under the impression that the elevator descended because he had pressed the button. But, without his knowledge, there were people filtering into the elevator in Floor 2 at the exact same time and they had pressed the Level 0 button. So the elevator had descended from Level 2 to Level 0 not because he had pressed the button but because the folks at Level 2 inside the elevator had pressed the Level 0 button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Just goes to show there is more to this world than that meets the eye...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-4643948374526782257?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/4643948374526782257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=4643948374526782257&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4643948374526782257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4643948374526782257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/12/it-is-not-always-what-it-seems.html' title='It is not always what it seems'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1648598316927795003</id><published>2010-11-30T12:13:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-30T12:43:12.113-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Private Work Room</title><content type='html'>For the last couple of days, my PC in the cubicle has conked out. As an alternative, I am given a PC in a big conference room which is generally used for meetings. Such same conf rooms are also used as work-areas by the big bosses of the industry. Since it is not a common practice to use large conf rooms for project teams to discuss projects on a day-to-day basis at offshore, I am hardly bothered and I get to sit in the conf room without any disturbance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After being used to the din of the surroundings, it comes as a pleasant surprise to sit in a very quiet place and work. Concentration is easy. With no one to stop by in the cubicle for idle chat, work gets done faster. The fan is all mine and not shared by my cubicle mate. The electrical switch for fan and light is just a few feet away and not across the floor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had read in many novels how important men stood in front of the window and gazed out with deep thought. I sometimes feel like doing the same. When in deep thought, I just walk across the conf room and stand looking out the window. The greenery beyond the window is pleasant to stare at intervals. The rush of the winds could be seen in the trees. At times, the howl of the wind could be heard too. The hue of the November sky has always been my favorite color. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a big board which I can use to discuss complex logic with my team. There is a phone which can be put on speaker and many more options. There are number of chairs in the room – so everybody in the team can have a seat if all of them come at once, as against being crowded in the small cubicle where my conked out PC resides.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, it robs me of the laughter and jest that is usually present in the neighboring cubicles or heard in the corridors. I also miss the short unadvertised snacks in the nearby cubicles. But, for a change, it is a nice feeling to sit in a big room and have the whole room to oneself. It is as if living a life of the future, for perhaps such a work place can be obtained in not less than half a decade. A strange feeling of ‘importance’!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1648598316927795003?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1648598316927795003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1648598316927795003&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1648598316927795003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1648598316927795003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/11/private-work-room.html' title='Private Work Room'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7361049640903748458</id><published>2010-11-28T12:24:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T12:32:30.980-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Smile</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/TPKR3NqBONI/AAAAAAAAE3A/fZgQxindfws/s1600/20101121%2B038.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/TPKR3NqBONI/AAAAAAAAE3A/fZgQxindfws/s400/20101121%2B038.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544654468991236306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She smiled at us for the first time!&lt;br /&gt;The struggle for the last 10 months was completely worth it for just this one second smile!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7361049640903748458?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7361049640903748458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7361049640903748458&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7361049640903748458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7361049640903748458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/11/first-smile.html' title='The First Smile'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/TPKR3NqBONI/AAAAAAAAE3A/fZgQxindfws/s72-c/20101121%2B038.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-2983683212086322079</id><published>2010-11-18T12:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T13:20:35.865-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleuthing</title><content type='html'>When I was a teen, I thought Franklin W. Dixon was the greatest author ever. He had churned out truly captivating books by narrating the adventures of Frank and Joe Hardy, also known as Hardy Boys. To write in such a way that a particular age group of the population laps up the literature is indeed an amazing art. I have read over 100 Hardy Boys books and it always intrigued me how one person can write so many novels at such a rapid pace. The answer came a good decade later. There really was no one called &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franklin_W._Dixon"&gt;Franklin W. Dixon&lt;/a&gt;. It was just a pen name used by many authors! No wonder the writing style differed across books!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny, huh?! A fictitious author who writes really good fiction! But then I guess the majority of the success of Hardy Boys should really go to &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leslie_McFarlane"&gt;Leslie McFarlane&lt;/a&gt; who started the series, and without doubt, it is the first few books in the series that were really fascinating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess teenage is the age when solving puzzles becomes a craze. It is ‘the thing to do’. And why not? It is fun, it is fulfilling and it is exhilarating. &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hardy_Boys"&gt;Hardy Boys&lt;/a&gt; introduced me to nice and simple literature on sleuthing. Just about the same time, I used to see &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Remington_Steele"&gt;Remington Steele&lt;/a&gt;, but being new to the US accent, I couldn’t understand half the cases nor how it was solved. &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0101068/"&gt;Cluedo&lt;/a&gt; was very interesting. So was &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karamchand"&gt;Kharamchand&lt;/a&gt;. And &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Derrick_(TV_series)"&gt;Derrick&lt;/a&gt;. And &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tehkikaat"&gt;Tehkikaat&lt;/a&gt;. But more than the soap, I liked the smell of the book as I flicked page after page of murder mysteries. There was something about “investigation”, of “finding clues”, of “solving a case” that seemed enchanting, like a world of its own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I never dreamt of becoming a detective. It was good only in TV and books. Little did I know that I would almost end up becoming like a ‘detective’!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For, most of what I do in my day-to-day life is finding resolutions to issues, which can be roughly translated to ‘detecting’ and ‘investigating’! I rummage through hundreds of thousands of software code to find that problem statement which is causing havoc. True, it is not a matter of life and death, but it sure is a matter of bread and butter! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the joke goes, 99% of the money is to identify where the fix should be and 1% of the money is for the actual fix. In most cases, the actual fix is very minor in software. Once, after 2 days of struggle, I found the fix for a critical issue was just addition of one single enter character! Such is the nature of the work! So, the crux of the work is in ‘debugging’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But to think in a broader sense, I guess this is common in all fields of work. In every job lies a problem of sorts, an issue. Be it medical or engineering. And the nature of the job is to find the resolution, to investigate the matter and solve the case. In each job, as I have said &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2009/10/work-and-pay.html"&gt;before&lt;/a&gt;, there shall always lie, temporarily, the feeling of helplessness and the matter of ‘I don’t know’ which is so annoying and frustrating…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;…but only until the case is solved and makes one say “&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Q.E.D."&gt;Quod Erat Demonstrandum&lt;/a&gt;”.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-2983683212086322079?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/2983683212086322079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=2983683212086322079&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2983683212086322079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2983683212086322079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/11/sleuthing.html' title='Sleuthing'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-779992012088561507</id><published>2010-11-17T13:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-17T13:37:01.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>8</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2009/11/7-blankets.html"&gt;Eight&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am neither happy nor sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I am not sure if it is an achievement or if it is a sign of failure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-|&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-779992012088561507?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/779992012088561507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=779992012088561507&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/779992012088561507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/779992012088561507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/11/8.html' title='8'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1095189587122947424</id><published>2010-11-17T13:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-17T13:25:26.968-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It only takes a little to save a lot</title><content type='html'>There is a gasoline station near my house. Very near to the gasoline station, there was a water leakage a month ago. A pipe underneath the asphalted road had broken and the water was gushing out onto the pavement in great gusto. It was like a mini-stream. The water traversed through the length of the gasoline station and – due to the dip in the road – went all the way to the residential area and stagnated in front of many houses, before getting into drainage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am usually very prompt in reporting such issues to the concerned officials – be it in my locality or in my house or in my office. On couple of occasions I have even approached strangers’ houses to inform them of water leakages and overflowing overhead tanks. Somehow I just cannot stand water being wasted. My blood starts boiling if I see water getting wasted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this time I wanted to take a back seat and see how the situation unfolded. So on day one when I saw this, I kept quiet. I thought perhaps the BWSSB was aware of it and was working on it. Surely water wastage is of prime importance now, is it not? There are &lt;a href="http://ngopost.org/story/ignorance-sure-bliss"&gt;campaigns&lt;/a&gt; everywhere of conserving water, of harvesting rain water and of our nearness to the day when there will be no potable water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On day two, I noticed that water was still gushing out in the same gusto. I went to the folks at the gasoline station and asked them if they had informed the BWSSB officials about it. The folks responded very derogatorily about the BWSSB officials. “&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;This is a common occurrence. In the past, we have complained several times but no one took notice.&lt;/span&gt;” Half-resembles the “Wolf! Wolf!” story. Now who is to be blamed? The BWSSB or the gasoline officials? Due to pervious negligence displayed by the former, the latter is discouraged. Discouragement apart, who will suffer if one day there is no water to drink? Both the BWSSB officials and the gasoline officials. I thought I will give it one more day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On day three, when I came home from office at 10 pm, the water was still leaking. I couldn’t believe that nobody was taking action about it. Hundreds of educated people were walking on this road daily which had now become a stream of sorts and no one bothered to complain. Forget complaining, they were not even bothered to see water getting wasted. The gasoline station folks were not bothered although the stream was right in front of them and causing them and their clients a distress. The people who stayed in the houses in front of whom the water was now stagnating were not doing anything about it. It was good drinking water that could have served hundreds of people for days together that was getting into drainage and no one was bothered about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough was enough. I went online and googled “BWSSB complaint”. The first link gave the number 22238888 and said it was monitored round the clock. I couldn’t believe Indian government officials working round the clock. Nevertheless, I called at 11 pm. It was answered in the second ring and the voice was not sleepy. He took my complaint, asked the location and land mark and thanked me for the input. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, the water leakage had stopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was dumbfounded. All one had to do was call the BWSSB hotline number. All one had to do get the BWSSB hotline number was to go to google. I couldn’t believe that at an era when communication is at its peak and information is available in fingertips, people are not using it for their betterment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People are ignorant of the fact that if we don’t help the Government in making this world a better place to live, the Government cannot make this world a better place to live. It is perhaps the Government’s negative track record which stops the common man to approach the Government to fix an issue which only the Government can fix. But having said so, it should not stop the common man from raising the issue to the Government, especially when it is the common man who will be the victim in the long run. When the Government has made strides to open up channels of communication, of various ways of receiving feedback and addressing grievances, it is the duty of the general public to utilize such forums and create a positive impact to the environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conserving water is synonymous to conserving electric energy. The more we save now, the more we can enjoy later and the more our kids can enjoy later. Like switching off our computer before leaving office for the day. Like switching off the fan and electric light of our cubicle before leaving office for the day. Like switching the lights off of vacant water closets even though not switched on by us. Like calling 22238888 to stop water leakages. Like calling 7760991399 to report BMTC buses that are polluting the city. Surely switching off, making a phone call are ‘little’ acts? But these have ‘high’ impact on the world in which we live in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;It only takes a little to save a lot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1095189587122947424?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1095189587122947424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1095189587122947424&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1095189587122947424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1095189587122947424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/11/it-only-takes-little-to-save-lot.html' title='It only takes a little to save a lot'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-5824702177810386980</id><published>2010-11-16T12:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T12:36:21.091-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thought for the day</title><content type='html'>It is interesting to note that although each of us live through childhood, teen-hood, adulthood and senility, the photo that hangs in our next generation’s residence when we depart is not the photo when we were in our prime but one that has us in wrinkles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-5824702177810386980?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/5824702177810386980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=5824702177810386980&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5824702177810386980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5824702177810386980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/11/thought-for-day.html' title='Thought for the day'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-2700512351377673957</id><published>2010-11-16T09:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-16T09:50:06.337-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Frozen Moments</title><content type='html'>Have you ever felt the air or heard something, and remembered a past moment? It has happened to me several times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first few days in Engineering way back in October-November 1998 were very exciting. It was filled with joy of being with great pals and fear of being ragged. It was filled with the burden of eight semesters and long vacant hours during many days when there were no classes. Somehow, every time it is October or November, I can still feel it all in my bones. I can sense that same feeling, that same sensation which throws my mind back to 1998. Some years, I get this nostalgia first only to realize later that it is that part of the year (October or November)! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Same thing happens when I hear music. If during a particular phase of life, I hear a song repeatedly, this phase of life comes right back to my mind whenever I hear the same song again irrespective of the time gap. In 2005, when I used to drive my car from home to office, I used to have my radio switched on and in the driving duration of 10 minutes between 0830 hrs and 0840 hrs, a particular radio channel always played Dido’s &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;White Flag&lt;/span&gt;. Now, in 2010, if I hear this song again, I can sense my life in 2005, the feel of the Volvo, the drive…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It kind of proves that some moments are forever frozen on the mind and they come right back up at the slightest invocation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-2700512351377673957?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/2700512351377673957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=2700512351377673957&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2700512351377673957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2700512351377673957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/11/frozen-moments.html' title='Frozen Moments'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-4413880135974026099</id><published>2010-11-07T11:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-07T11:33:54.523-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Product-Based Vs Service-Oriented</title><content type='html'>People who work in specialized domains or product based companies are so restricted to their own domain and products that they will know very less of anything outside. People who work in service based companies mainly work in any one project for a specified period of time and once the project is over, get on with another project which is on a totally different technology and domain. This is somewhat interesting and gives ‘looking-forward-to-the-change’ attitude as against the folks who continue to work on the same technology and domain for their entire lives. But then, since product based employees are working on the same technology and domain for years, it makes them experts in one field rather than employees of service based companies who belong to the category of “Jack of all trades, master of none.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-4413880135974026099?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/4413880135974026099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=4413880135974026099&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4413880135974026099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4413880135974026099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/11/product-based-vs-service-oriented.html' title='Product-Based Vs Service-Oriented'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-6630560498135918329</id><published>2010-11-01T13:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T13:32:34.571-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Current Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Milk, Urine, Sleep.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Milk, Urine, Sleep.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Milk, Urine, Sleep.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;...&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/10/father-of-baby-girl.html"&gt;Phew&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-6630560498135918329?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/6630560498135918329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=6630560498135918329&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6630560498135918329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6630560498135918329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/11/current-life.html' title='Current Life'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-5233545340818437916</id><published>2010-10-28T22:07:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T22:12:54.192-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Clerk</title><content type='html'>I like having many notebooks on my desk.&lt;div&gt;I like taking different notebooks from the stack and making corresponding entries in them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its like being a clerk who has different account books, each pertaining to a particular transaction.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess I would have liked it very much if I had become a clerk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But for the pay, of course.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-5233545340818437916?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/5233545340818437916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=5233545340818437916&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5233545340818437916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5233545340818437916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/10/clerk.html' title='Clerk'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-2285437961596305200</id><published>2010-10-20T13:36:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T13:46:41.111-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Right and Wrong</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Long time ago, I remember seeing a scene in a movie (don't remember the name) where a bunch of students get caught for cheating in exam. The students are severely interrogated by cops and during one such interrogation, a cop asks them thus:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;"You do know what is right and what is wrong, don't you?"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Somehow, I never forgot this line. It makes so much sense. We all know what is right and what is wrong. All we need to do is just do the right thing always and life will be good. The moment we do anything we &lt;i&gt;know &lt;/i&gt;is wrong, then we are in deep trouble. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of late, I realized one more thing. It is really dangerous if you think what you are doing is right while actually what you are doing is wrong.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Phrase of the day&lt;/i&gt;: Dressing Down.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:-(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-2285437961596305200?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/2285437961596305200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=2285437961596305200&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2285437961596305200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2285437961596305200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/10/right-and-wrong.html' title='Right and Wrong'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-6792932360460370219</id><published>2010-10-11T12:52:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T13:02:58.515-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Father of a baby girl!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/TLNCCups-XI/AAAAAAAAE0c/hyCde8W26WA/s1600/Misc+027.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/TLNCCups-XI/AAAAAAAAE0c/hyCde8W26WA/s320/Misc+027.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526833782363847026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/TLNCCups-XI/AAAAAAAAE0c/hyCde8W26WA/s1600/Misc+027.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/TLNCCL_bbLI/AAAAAAAAE0U/StxcpJFant0/s1600/Misc+035.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/TLNCCL_bbLI/AAAAAAAAE0U/StxcpJFant0/s320/Misc+035.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526833773059730610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/TLNBPfaJwcI/AAAAAAAAE0E/NGgrFIxcLLs/s1600/Misc+037.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-6792932360460370219?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/6792932360460370219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=6792932360460370219&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6792932360460370219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6792932360460370219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/10/father-of-baby-girl.html' title='Father of a baby girl!'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/TLNCCups-XI/AAAAAAAAE0c/hyCde8W26WA/s72-c/Misc+027.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-5567989743422454453</id><published>2010-10-07T12:04:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T12:06:11.161-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Earned Leaves</title><content type='html'>As of date, I have so many earned leaves that, if I want, I can work for four days a week for one full year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG. It is too tempting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-5567989743422454453?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/5567989743422454453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=5567989743422454453&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5567989743422454453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5567989743422454453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/10/earned-leaves.html' title='Earned Leaves'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-5594752663831600484</id><published>2010-10-05T13:04:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T13:21:49.214-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Office Campus</title><content type='html'>The campus in which I work has about 50 odd buildings. All the buildings belong to the same company and same organisation. But, to a large extent, each building is an entity by itself. For e.g., say if I am in building 13 and I am walking near building 18, if there is an event or a social gathering underway in building 18, then I will have no clue about what it is all about. It is as if each building is a company of its own and they are having their own parties. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Thought for the day:&lt;/span&gt; So, it really isn’t one company, any more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Flip-thought:&lt;/span&gt; But then, it will be hardly feasible to involve all employees in all 50 buildings for all events held within the campus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-5594752663831600484?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/5594752663831600484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=5594752663831600484&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5594752663831600484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/5594752663831600484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/10/office-campus.html' title='Office Campus'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-2888010957031402181</id><published>2010-10-04T13:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T13:11:32.048-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Soda</title><content type='html'>If Western food is just about bread and butter and toast and egg and pizza and chicken and steak and et cetera, then it is pretty dry stuff all around. With such a diet, the stomach ought to get stuck similar to what happens to the concrete-making machine if enough water is not provided. But water alone is not enough for such food. One needs coke or cola to wash it all down. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Thought for the day: &lt;/span&gt;Without coke or cola, the Western world could not survive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-2888010957031402181?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/2888010957031402181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=2888010957031402181&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2888010957031402181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/2888010957031402181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/10/soda.html' title='Soda'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7842636339813996229</id><published>2010-09-30T10:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T11:00:35.086-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Integration</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Wheels. Two wheels. Carriage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Axle. Steering Wheel. Four wheels. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rubber. Air. Pressure. Tube. Tyre. Radial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sound waves. Bell. Whistle. Honk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuel. Piston. Combustion. Engine. Lever. Acceleration. Cruise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friction. Kinetic energy. Brake disc. Brake drum. Brake Shoes. ABS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Machine. Teeth. Cogs. Torque. Gear. Clutch. Automatic Transmission.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sand. Heat. High temperature. Glass. Mirror. Windshield. Windows. Moon roof.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Element. Compound. Alloy. Metal. Body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rubber blade. Motor. Wiper. Adjustable speed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Electrons. Light waves. Bulbs. Headlights. Dip. Dim. Yellow. Directional (Indicator).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cushion. Leather. Luxury. Seats. Power Seats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fire. Heat. Cigarette lighter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cold. Coolant. Fan. Refrigeration. Air Conditioner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Safety. Seat belts. Air bags. Door locks. Power locks. Burglar alarms. Sleep detector.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sound notes. Music. Equalizer. Audio CD. iPod. Radio. Stereo. Speakers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pixels. Video. Motion picture. VCD and DVD Player. Reverse-Camera. Reverse-Sensor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frequency. Waves. Integrated chips. DVD Player and Stereo Remote Control.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. How Man has progressed! Such a marvelous conglomeration of inventions and miracles! Such a wonderful display of human brain’s application of thought! Such a fascinating integration of different fields of engineering! It is truly spectacular to note the exponential growth in Man’s development!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7842636339813996229?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7842636339813996229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7842636339813996229&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7842636339813996229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7842636339813996229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/09/integration.html' title='Integration'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7279181627837255944</id><published>2010-09-19T12:46:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-19T13:04:06.629-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Speed</title><content type='html'>Realized one thing today when I was driving all-alone back from Jalahalli to Jayanagar, a 20 km inter-city once-in-a-week to-and-fro car commute which I have now mastered in an average 45 mins after trying many possible routes: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, it doesn't matter if you are driving a Maruti Alto or a Honda Civic. If you don't know when to shift which gear, when to lurch ahead and when to press the brakes, you might as well not participate in a race just because you have a high-powered car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7279181627837255944?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7279181627837255944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7279181627837255944&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7279181627837255944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7279181627837255944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/09/speed.html' title='Speed'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-6989940336595294494</id><published>2010-09-16T13:25:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T13:35:40.971-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Compliments from the President of USA</title><content type='html'>Somehow, reading &lt;a href="http://www.dnaindia.com/bangalore/report_good-news-for-bangalore-kids-obama-is-worried_1438722"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; felt good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;“At a time when other countries are competing with us like never before, when students around the world in Bangalore or Beijing are working harder than ever, and doing better than ever, your success in school is not just going to determine your success, it’s going to determine America’s success in the 21st century,” Obama said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This means, that two decades ago, when we were "children of Bangalore", we worked hard, we toiled hard, we did better than our American counterparts, and have shaped India's growth in our own way to such an extent that we are now competing with world and winning too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be openly acknowledged by the President of USA that kids of developing countries are surging much faster than kids of developed countries and running away with jobs, is a great pride, especially for the 'Beijing' and 'Bangalore' kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what if our own President does not compliment us for the hard work we have put in the last couple of decades? The President of USA just complimented us!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-6989940336595294494?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/6989940336595294494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=6989940336595294494&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6989940336595294494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6989940336595294494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/09/compliments-from-president-of-usa.html' title='Compliments from the President of USA'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-907349695160863048</id><published>2010-09-15T13:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T13:34:08.752-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Living on the edge</title><content type='html'>Sitting on the pillion with no helmet.&lt;br /&gt;Zooming at 80 kmph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wind whizzes past so fiercely that a mere twist of the head &lt;br /&gt;Will dislocate the spectacles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vehicles zooming at 100 kmph – left and right, &lt;br /&gt;Very close to the bike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totally depending on the rider &lt;br /&gt;Not to make a single mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a single mistake, a single skid, a single misjudgment &lt;br /&gt;Is all it takes to end this precious life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-907349695160863048?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/907349695160863048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=907349695160863048&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/907349695160863048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/907349695160863048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/09/living-on-edge.html' title='Living on the edge'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-6587440214404332184</id><published>2010-09-13T13:17:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T13:20:22.585-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thought for the Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;More the pay...&lt;br /&gt;More the pain...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-6587440214404332184?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/6587440214404332184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=6587440214404332184&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6587440214404332184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6587440214404332184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/09/thought-for-day.html' title='Thought for the Day'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-7478768785102955251</id><published>2010-09-12T13:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T14:06:14.875-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Watch</title><content type='html'>Way back in 1990, my mom gave me a digital watch which cost about Rs 15 then. I was overwhelmed and overjoyed. It even had a button to switch on light to see time at night. I would proudly show off the watch to one and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, in 1992, my dad’s office staff presented me a Titan Aqura watch during my Upanayanam ceremony. I fell in love with that watch at first sight. I stored the watch within its casing and would stare at it for hours together. But I wouldn’t wear it because I didn’t want to spoil it by wearing. So I still wore my digital watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About three years later, I realized that if I didn’t wear the Titan Aqura, I would never ever wear it and it will continue to be in its neat Titan case. So, with difficulty, for I liked my digital watch too, I switched on to Titan Aqura and somewhere down the line, I lost (or I threw off because it stopped working – not sure what) the digital watch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Titan Aqura was my undisputed watch for the next decade. I wore it daily 23 hours and 50 minutes – removing 10 mins only for bath. I never felt the need for any other watch. It didn’t give me any trouble whatsoever. I had to change the strap exactly once in 6 months and the battery perhaps once in 2 years. I liked going to the Titan service center because it was nice and clean and it had AC!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2004, I got another digital watch. This Titan watch was presented as a gift to all employees of the company where I work. This was a sophisticated watch. It had time zones across the world – meaning, we could see the time anywhere in the country at any point of time. It had timer, 3 alarm clocks, stop watch and a host of other things. The watch also came with a uniquely shaped CD which had an excellent video about the watch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then in 2008, I got 3 watches: a Timex (again from the company where I work but this time from the sub-unit where I belong), another Titan (an official wedding gift from the bride’s side but the watch was chosen together by my bride and myself – although I insisted I didn’t need a watch because I already had 3 then) and a Quartz (from my colleague who had returned from onsite – not a wrist watch but a hanging pop-out watch which I could hardly use because of its very nature).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then in 2010, I got 2 more watches (as of date): a swashbuckling Cruiser (from my brother-in-law in Dubai) and an MS Dhoni-signed Reebok (an FD got automatically renewed in ICICI bank at a particular time when ICICI bank had promised all its customers an MS Dhoni-signed watch for those who open FD! Imagine my surprise when I got the watch!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now I have all of the above watches except the first Rs 15 digital watch and the 2008 Timex (which I gave to my dad as his watch was in a dilapidated state). That comes up to 6 watches out of which I cannot wear the Quartz. So that’s 5 wrist watches. I can wear one per day to office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still love my Titan Aqura and wear it whenever I want. I don’t like the Reebok but its dial is good. I thought the Cruiser was much too big for me but I am beginning to use it more often these days as it looks cool. The wedding Titan wrist watch is stately and elegant and I wear it during important occasions. I like the digital Titan watch too but I liked it better with its original strap. I like the Quartz but I cannot wear it because it is not a wrist watch. I liked the Timex very much and at one point was wearing it daily but I had to give it away to my dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noticed the strangest part?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;In my entire life, I have never ever bought a single watch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-7478768785102955251?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/7478768785102955251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=7478768785102955251&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7478768785102955251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/7478768785102955251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/09/watch.html' title='Watch'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1533318510083268386</id><published>2010-09-11T05:35:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T05:38:23.628-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Coding and Gender</title><content type='html'>I have had many guys in my team who code and write software programs exceptionally well. They breath and live code day in and day out. They are easily the most sought after in the entire team. They spend more time assisting the not-so-talented software programmers but the tribe of talented-coders really do not mind helping people by churning out a 5-line code that does everything that the not-so-talented-coders want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the thought that struck me was, in the last 8 years of being in the software industry, I have never seen such a trait in any female member in my team nor with any of the other teams with whom I have worked, including the team in US when I was in US. I have not seen any female member who churn out code for the needy, who are most sought after in the team, who breath and live code. At most, four girls come to my mind who come close to such a technical competency level but were not really up there. However I have seen couple of female trainers who could write really good code and teach how to code. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing code is synonymous to writing logic. A logic can be written only when it is understood and designed. It is not a simple task to design a software system when all the business scenarios are laid down on paper. It needs a huge amount of acumen and mental marbles to write a defect-free code that handles all use-cases and scenarios mixed with sufficient amount of buffering enforced in code for negative test cases. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does the fact that I have not had the privilege of working with such female folks imply that there are no female folks capable of such a feat? Or is it that I am just plain unlucky to have not crossed roads with such womenfolk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when I was wondering about the above question, a code competition was held in our company in different software languages such as C++, Java, DotNet, etc. After multiple rounds, the winners in each language were finally announced. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were all men.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1533318510083268386?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1533318510083268386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1533318510083268386&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1533318510083268386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1533318510083268386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/09/coding-and-gender.html' title='Coding and Gender'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1114715888826753798</id><published>2010-09-01T12:21:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T12:30:11.604-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Nice Gesture</title><content type='html'>One day, a Government office in Eastern India received a letter from the Great Britain informing that one of the buildings constructed by East India company in Calcutta had attained 100 years and hence needed re-modeling. This came as a surprise to everyone in the Indian Government office that the Great Britain still had records of the buildings that Great Britain had constructed and, moreover, were monitoring their age to ensure they wont collapse. Such a nice gesture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. No one in the Indian Government paid heed to the notice from Great Britain and the buildings over 100 years old continue to live on as-is.&lt;br /&gt;2. This is a true story as told to me by my friend whose father works in a Government office in Eastern India.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1114715888826753798?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1114715888826753798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1114715888826753798&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1114715888826753798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1114715888826753798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/09/nice-gesture.html' title='A Nice Gesture'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-3999364727220995230</id><published>2010-09-01T11:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T11:19:27.654-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The X chromosome</title><content type='html'>"Welcome home!"&lt;br /&gt;"Boy, it was a tough day in office today."&lt;br /&gt;"I will get ready in half an hour."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh the wedding reception. I had totally forgotten about it. You know, we do not &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;have &lt;/span&gt;to go. He is not a very close friend of mine, and I have hardly spoken to him in the last so many years."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh. But I want to go."&lt;br /&gt;"Eh?! Why? He is my friend and it is his wedding and you will hardly know anyone there. I thought you will get bored in the wedding reception and you wanted to come with me only because I wanted to go."&lt;br /&gt;"All thats true, but I don't want to miss the opportunity to put on make-up and dress myself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boink.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-3999364727220995230?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/3999364727220995230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=3999364727220995230&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/3999364727220995230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/3999364727220995230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/09/x-chromosome.html' title='The X chromosome'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-6955019949073278566</id><published>2010-08-30T11:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T11:35:58.668-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Here and There</title><content type='html'>It seems like one day we are shouting 'Drought! Drought!' and the next day, we are shouting 'Flood! Flood!' &lt;br /&gt;Something doesn't seem right in governance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in a meeting the other day when the Quality Analyst was expressing her concern to some of the project managers about their respective projects' CMM levels (check the random rant section under this &lt;a href="http://samratbhattacharjee.blogspot.com/2010/08/quantum-model-of-software-development.html"&gt;post&lt;/a&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't help feeling that it is indeed a sad life to lead in your mid-30s if you are to be beaten about the bush on things like CMM and Six Sigma. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have heard so many stories of people cribbing about their jobs (me included) despite hefty pay packets that it came as a surprise one day to me to see the security guard (who is paid less than 10,000 per month) starting off his 12-hour shift at 6 pm by bowing to the floor and entering the building.&lt;br /&gt;The dedication and commitment and respect to his work and his organisation that provides him the bread and butter despite the &lt;a href="http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/08/nobody-is-spared.html"&gt;irritants&lt;/a&gt; was commendable and thought-provoking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I walk into my office campus in the morning, I hear the birds chirping, I see the mist everywhere and I can't help feeling happy how beautiful the world is.&lt;br /&gt;When I walk back to my house in the evening, I see pollution everywhere, I hear loud blares and I can't help feeling sad how Man has contaminated this beautiful world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-6955019949073278566?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/6955019949073278566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=6955019949073278566&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6955019949073278566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/6955019949073278566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/08/here-and-there.html' title='Here and There'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-1864188525708300293</id><published>2010-08-30T10:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T10:45:24.360-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Weekend That Was</title><content type='html'>If I had an appointment book like the way doctors have, then my weekend slots would have been booked by Friday noon:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday eve: Concert&lt;br /&gt;Friday night: Movie&lt;br /&gt;Saturday morn: H1N1 Vaccination in the office campus and campus visit&lt;br /&gt;Saturday eve: Doctor visit&lt;br /&gt;Saturday night: Movie&lt;br /&gt;Sunday morn: Attend friend's Gruhapravesham function&lt;br /&gt;Sunday noon: Siesta!&lt;br /&gt;Sunday eve: Family get-together&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that I am complaining. Its always nice to be booked but I would rather prefer to have my weekends free so that I can plan anything I want and execute on-the-fly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, it was a pretty good weekend barring the two bad movies that I saw. The drive to the Gruhapravesham function was nice and scenic. The doctor visit was highly impressive. Played carrom after almost a decade. Played two fast-paced table tennis games. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. The weekend came in a jiffy and went in a jiffy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-1864188525708300293?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/1864188525708300293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=1864188525708300293&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1864188525708300293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/1864188525708300293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/08/weekend-that-was.html' title='The Weekend That Was'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-8974772660738808018</id><published>2010-08-29T14:02:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T14:04:06.839-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Nobody is spared</title><content type='html'>Couple of days back, we had an audit in the office. Not only were we subject to irritating pre-audit checks and made to answer some tough questions but the security guards too had to go through the rigmarole of memorizing the answers to about 50 odd what-if scenarios regarding information security and disaster management and what-not. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It made me realize that there are annoying irritants in every level of occupation. Nobody is spared.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-8974772660738808018?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/8974772660738808018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=8974772660738808018&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8974772660738808018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8974772660738808018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/08/nobody-is-spared.html' title='Nobody is spared'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-4905870217918040284</id><published>2010-08-29T13:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T14:02:27.062-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Driving while on cell phone</title><content type='html'>The other day I was driving alone in car and I had a stiff target (read time) to meet as I was already about half an hour late. So I was driving in quite a bit of speed amidst slow-moving traffic. At times like this, we get caught up in self-centered and egoistic web, and suddenly, before we realize, we are in a race track and all the neighbouring cars and cars coming fast behind us become our competitors and one tends to overcome the other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was in one such setting, when I was gaining up on my so-called competitors, I got a call on my cell. I was tempted to ignore it - not because I was a conscientious driver who does not want to drive while on mobile phone but because I did not want to lose my concentration especially when I was on the verge of self-proclaimed victory (road was coming to an end!)! But then, the call was from the office, and I being more of a conscientious worker than a conscientious driver, I picked up the call. Even with the call, I was able to manage my good lead while at the same time ensuring that I was answering the queries on the call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing that fascinated me was the human mind and body. Here I am on a virtual race-track, with shifting gears on left hand, steering the vehicle with my right, pressing on the clutch pedal with my left leg, shifting between brake and accelerator pedals with my right leg, my eyes darting between the road and the main-rear-view mirror and the right-window-rear-view mirror and at the same time, my brain was understanding the questions that I was being asked through my ear, processing the responses and sending the right response to my mouth which was then passed on to the cell phone which was craned between my tilted head and shoulders! Multi-tasking at its very best! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, it was more like I was on auto-pilot and I was concentrating more on the phone. Because, my hands and legs and eyes were working on its own with minimal concentration. It is perhaps because of decades of driving that has gotten so in-built in this body and mind that, even with little relaxation of the mind, the body can handle itself - it knows when to brake automatically, when to change gears, when to accelerate, where to look out for road bumps, etc without really applying the mind and one need not specifically think about all these when driving because it all comes automatically with experience and age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Agreed, it is not the safest thing to do in the world nor its a matter to boast nor an action to encourage others from doing but the very fact that the human mind and body is capable to handle such a situation in such a manner is just fascinating...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-4905870217918040284?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/4905870217918040284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=4905870217918040284&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4905870217918040284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/4905870217918040284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/08/driving-while-on-cell-phone.html' title='Driving while on cell phone'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24508074.post-8381528722649385975</id><published>2010-08-22T14:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T14:10:09.514-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Higher Studies</title><content type='html'>If there is one thing that I perhaps repent in life, it is that I did not do my higher studies. I graduated with bachelors and then, I thought, I was done with all the education that I ever wanted. But when my peers, my cousins, my colleagues and my juniors went in for higher studies, it touched a nerve. Perhaps I should have done my Masters too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not that its too late. Its just that I end up weighing too many pros and cons and find that I can manage just as well without any further studies. Of course, another major dilemma is that I have no clue on what I need to do Masters on, even if I wanted too! I don’t want to do Masters on what I am working because I know what its like in this industry now. I feel like doing something different, like being a doctor or something, but then life is too short to be a professional in two totally different occupations. Talk about confused mind!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its not that I abhor studying; its always fun to learn new things. When I learnt the &lt;a href="http://harsha-s-rao.blogspot.com/2008/05/melakarta-katapayadi-mathematics.html"&gt;Katapayadi Sankhya&lt;/a&gt;, I was fascinated. But when learning has to be metamorphosed into a permanent storage location within the memory, that’s when it gets me. Why memorise when we have Google now! I feel its too much time and effort to get Masters, starting from the entrance exam (be it GMAT or GRE or CAT) itself. Not to mention money, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it comes to money, education suddenly becomes more of an investment option. The higher you pay to get into a famous institution, the higher the returns because of the campus recruitment. But I have heard of various stories that I have become skeptical. Not all get into high profile jobs. Not all want high profile jobs. Some end up being entrepreneurs. Some end up being philanthropists. Some end up thinking: was this all worth it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to think a while ago that just Bachelors is not good because half the time you do not end up working on what you had actually studied. That’s because I saw many who had done their Masters truly worked on what they had studied in their Masters. But then I came across all this IITians and IIMs and PhDs and found that, it’s the same case everywhere. People who did their PhDs in Electrical Engineering are in the Board of Directors for a software company which has got nothing to do with electricity! People who studied in IIMs are in a dotcom business which has got nothing to do with management! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, how come a guy, who is strong in Electrical Engineering, get into a totally new domain and excel in it? When I pondered more over this, I realized that the Masters and PhDs are perhaps not just to excel in one particular field and to end up in one particular profession. It is perhaps to open up the mind to encompass the numerous things that Man can actually do and enjoy and excel. It is like the gateway to be an all-rounder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or is it? I know this maternal grandfather on my wife’s side who has worked in industries ranging from Chemical to Construction, from Mechanical to Railways, so on and so forth without so much having as a formal education in any one field. So, formal education is then just a tag. It’s the adaptability of the human mind to apply to a situation, coupled of course with a bit of luck, to excel and be confident in any given working environment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I have known people who have done Masters only to end up working exactly the way Bachelors do, perhaps with a bit more dough. That’s really sad. That really is demotivating for higher studies. So, in this case, higher studies is not even an investment option. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be that as it may, it is very important for highly capable students to get into higher studies which can be used as a spring board to invent new things like, for e.g., this laptop on which I am writing, the wordpad which automatically corrects my grammatical mistakes and this blogger where I can share my thoughts. Invention, white papers, patents and what not. Its all awe-inspiring. One needs people like &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji5_MqicxSo"&gt;Randy Pausch&lt;/a&gt; to be around you to encourage the thinking mind to wander and conquer without thoughts of education loans and family and future. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I somehow feel I might like to be amidst highly intellectual people talking about heavy-duty stuff such as the applicability of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laplace_transform"&gt;Laplace Transformation&lt;/a&gt; to daily life or &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chaos_theory"&gt;Chaos Theory&lt;/a&gt; although I myself might not be able to make any contribution to such interesting and mind-numbing discussions. I get attracted mentally to people who talk in such a way that it just doesn’t make any sense, and yet, there is deep sense in what they are actually talking. They will be talking in such a way because, for them, it is difficult to come down to the plane where normal human beings converse. This, again, might be because of their exposure to higher studies where, no doubt, they have to work hard on assignments and projects and what-not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again, it might not be. It might just be because of what they are. Its all very confusing. At the end of the day, I am what I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24508074-8381528722649385975?l=harshasrao.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/feeds/8381528722649385975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=24508074&amp;postID=8381528722649385975&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8381528722649385975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24508074/posts/default/8381528722649385975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://harshasrao.blogspot.com/2010/08/higher-studies.html' title='Higher Studies'/><author><name>Harsha S Rao</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18173003640280727675</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-IFYxulPEVk/R5jEBxPlKaI/AAAAAAAAAlw/oJCQYcEktSE/S220/DSC00352_edited.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
