tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81723693002536199942012-01-31T13:40:26.752-08:00S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.comBlogger441100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-55095512134766045902011-08-17T08:02:00.000-07:002011-08-17T09:35:52.489-07:00

Adjective: corrupt1. Lacking in integrity2. Not straight; dishonest or immoral or evasiveVerb: corrupt1. Degrade morally or by intemperance 2. Make illegal payments to, in exchange of favors or influence3, Place under suspicion or cast doubt upon I find it imperative to clarify the meaning of 'corrupt' before I proceed with my diatribe. Now raise your hand if you have not been 'corrupt', in the

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-77679472776940126922011-07-17T13:47:00.000-07:002011-08-30T20:12:26.906-07:00

My aching body begs for sleep, I decide otherwise. A quick swim in the Heart Lake to cleanse myself of mud and dirt.  We spot the shimmering lake from a distance and smile. Stripped down to the bare minimum, I put my foot in the crystal clear water to judge its sting. Cold, but not freezing. We decide to endure a minute of torture to enjoy an hour of pure pleasure. I walk in, shivering at every

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-49801237284044422542011-05-20T22:50:00.000-07:002011-07-05T09:54:52.991-07:00

5 am buzzz. An open eye, some finger play, snooze. Another buzz at 5-30. I heaved my Philly-cheese-steak-stuffed body out of my newly bought & broken bed. Frowning at the Inamdars & Takles sound asleep, I began the ritual of scrubbing myself clean of all drowsiness & dirt while cursing the graduate school for arranging the ceremony so early on a Sunday morning. Attempting to fix my

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-76448450605937035612011-03-20T01:27:00.000-07:002012-01-31T13:36:50.100-08:00

It started with mysterious ink stains on my school uniform. They were as unavoidable as the sleazy news on TOI website these days. Probably the heydays for those fountain pens which otherwise fared miserably throughout the year. Small squirt-injections were smuggled in classrooms as preludes to the funky squirt guns being prepared for the actual event. The five minute walk to my house from

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-55113570661548734572011-03-06T15:53:00.000-08:002011-03-23T09:36:44.587-07:00

I lie on the bed spreadeagled, eager to enter the 'The chamber of secrets' in a cozy cottage overlooking the Lonavala dam. It's the end of May, and the long drive in the scorching sun has made me itchy all over. I look out the window lazily spotting the sunlit green hill in front of the lake. I read a few pages and glance out again. The hill is gone! Not a trace! I sprint to the balcony as I

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-61721776113870856712011-02-25T14:09:00.000-08:002011-02-25T14:09:05.176-08:00

I am ashamed of the fact that I hadn't heard of Uncle Pai until my facebook feed conglomerated of messages announcing his demise. Little respite lies in the fact that as a child we aren't used to keep track of the authors behind the wonderful world of fiction we engage ourselves in. Oh, wait a minute... Enid Blyton? Agatha Cristie? Now that I think of it, aren't foreign authors' names displayed

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-58500390216224661702010-12-25T16:24:00.000-08:002010-12-25T16:24:46.551-08:00

When US beckoned me by Siddharth Wagh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-471929584566883542010-12-23T10:17:00.000-08:002010-12-23T12:44:35.715-08:00

Desi Migration is the regular seasonal journey undertaken by the desi species of humans. The mass movement may include those made in response to depleting homemade food, changes in weather & daytime, dwindling financial resources or as an alternative to hibernation. But the prime reason for migration can be attributed to emotional upheavals resulting from long distant family relationships.

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-10200778999512335332010-11-25T11:40:00.000-08:002010-12-23T12:35:48.044-08:00

Atop a cliff. Facing a vast expanse of land, or water. The deep blue sea shimmers in the golden light scattered by the morning sun. I lie dressed in loose casuals on a thin cotton quilt spread over partly wilted grass, the warm earth massaging the sore muscles and the sunlight nourishing them. My eyes sparkle at the book held open by my fingers, narrating wondrous stories about seen or unseen

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-1308870229307760742010-10-11T17:42:00.000-07:002010-10-12T16:28:49.485-07:00

Koi nahi hai kamre mein,Kya haseen mila hai pal...Aaj Naruto dekhne do,Kaam baaki karenge kal... Jao baba jao,Guilty na feel karaao..Sushi leke aao,Milke khaaye hum aur tum... Naruto Shippuden Shippuden... Naruto Shippuden Shippuden..Naruto Shippuden Shippuden... Naruto Shippuden Shippuden.. Sakura kahe, Sasuke lauta do, Is tarah se na mujhko saza do... Naruto kahe, Jaane bhi do na, Hai kasam

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-57122074933760475522010-10-06T17:32:00.000-07:002010-12-23T12:37:02.934-08:00

This post is in active response to the recently circulating video, or in the words of the video-makers, a public service message issued in the interest of all indian males [Link]. It is definitely no more than a publicity gimmick by 'Haywards 5000' to instigate the "true men" into buying their product and I wouldn't have ordinarily cared to object to its meaningless sermons. But somehow it has

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-28839106543993937212010-07-07T14:56:00.000-07:002010-12-23T12:38:20.075-08:00

My furnace-like home threatened to roast me like a stuffed turkey on one fine hot Jersey day. I picked up Jay's steely Schwinn in one spontaneous thrust & climbed down the block to rouse my lethargic spirit. Setting my Woodland feet to pedals, I rode out under the stark sunlight racing to the shadows of Johnson Park. Down the Cedar slope, towards the River Road signal, I let the wind caress my

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-9369173946241376952010-07-05T07:28:00.000-07:002010-12-23T12:40:49.637-08:00

Racism is tricky business. There is a whole gray area between comments that are racist and ones which aren't, and it can be quite a task to separate the husk from the grains. At one time, you may withhold a statement as a truism, only to be later assailed by some thought or incident which negates your basic premise. For instance, there was a time when I used to take offense at someone calling an

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-19296436167471774372010-04-29T08:49:00.000-07:002010-12-23T12:44:01.842-08:00

Dear Recruiter, Thank you for your disinterest in my qualifications for the Software Engineer position at your company. I carefully reviewed your background and experience, and I regret to inform you that I am unable to accept your rejection letter at this time. This year, I have been inundated with offers of rejection from candidates spanning a wide range of software and financial firms. I

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-16888534109026987532010-01-28T21:04:00.001-08:002010-10-27T08:03:06.675-07:00

The song (YouTube link): Khel Mandala Tujhya paayarishi kuni saan thor nhai Saad sunya kaaljachi tujhya kaani jaai All are equal at your doorstep... Only you can listen to the elegy of a lonely heart Hey.. Tari deva sara na yo bhog kasha pai Haravali waat disha andharalya dhaai Then why doesn't the suffering end, my Lord? The path is lost, darkness engulfs all

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-54124575939055549592010-01-20T10:12:00.000-08:002010-01-20T10:56:43.020-08:00

It's been an year since we started seeing each other. We are 5 'dates' down now...She says '"I am fast on turns" and then cries about me being too slow and hesitant...She says "Your hands are all over the place!" and then reverts back to "Your hands are stiff on the wheel"She asks me if I have ever done this before, and then reprimands me for being too reckless...She wants me to signal my next

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-58746017577463238692010-01-16T05:10:00.000-08:002010-07-08T10:55:38.139-07:00

This post finds its voice in an anecdote that Atul (of the RDB/ChandniBar/Devrai fame) shared in a casual discussion to promote his latest film 'Natarang'. When asked about the metamorphosis he went through while portraying an effeminate Nachya, he talked about general public's narrow-minded outlook towards such characters. He had come across an opposition party leader who suggested that the

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-86600080963501795712009-11-19T07:56:00.000-08:002010-07-08T10:57:32.333-07:00

I open my eyes. My hands wander over the deep gash on the side of my stomach squirting a thick red fluid. Tall palm trees sway with the sea breeze casting sunny patterns over the ground. I raise my hand to shade my eyes only to shudder at a scream calling "JACK!"... Sound of two feet running towards me and a familiar brush of brown curly hair over my face... "Kate, where am I?" Her blue eyes ooze

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-42195870807745835462009-11-19T07:55:00.000-08:002010-02-19T17:48:09.205-08:00

Algorithm1:Processes: A, B, C, D1. A makes tea.2. B, C drink tea.3. D may or may not drink tea.4. A, B or C drink leftover tea.5. A washes the vessel.Algorithm 2:Processes: A, B, C, D, W1. A makes tea.2. W pours honey on bread.3. B, C drink tea.4. W talks; A, B, C listen.5. D drinks coffee in Boston.6. W eats bread and drinks tea.7. A washes vessel.Algorithm 3:Processes: A, B, C, D, X1. A makes

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-57084895550876272292009-11-15T08:28:00.000-08:002010-07-08T10:57:57.102-07:00

I can see all the desi ears prop up. Partly, because of the unusual title; and partly, because all of us have heard some version of this statement. May be at a family gathering, munching on Good Day biscuits and sipping on small cups of Taj Mahal tea. Or in a pre-nuptial-bride-skill-display ceremony on a fine Sunday morning. Or mostly when a chirpy neighbor dropped over at your house for a bowl

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-11205888185139427282009-10-16T23:14:00.000-07:002010-07-08T11:00:41.374-07:00

"Jay!! We cant eat only faral. Let's make some pohe." I start slicing the red onions and idaho potatoes. Thoughts drift...A blast. Damn those next door hooligans. Rassi bombs puncture my sleep at 5 am. I see the kitchen light on. The heavy thud in the head is taken over by the sweet realization of the occasion. I brush up quick, to wait in line for my turn at the ceremonial oil massage from Aai.

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-83447963913985478752009-09-20T19:40:00.000-07:002009-11-16T09:31:06.195-08:00

Birthdays grew a lot more interesting this season, with creativity hitting the high notes in the form of poems, menu cards, research papers and a video presentation. Here is an aggregation of the items produced in the honor of the birthday boys (Click on the links to view)...July 24 : Indraneel Kulkarni (InKu)Gift item: PoemAugust 18: Ankit SardaGift item: Menu CardSeptember 14: Prashant

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-83930016742052119932009-08-28T09:47:00.000-07:002010-07-08T11:02:32.432-07:00

You know her name, her age, her profession and her relationship status.You have participated virtually in every single activity she does; her frequent visits to the friendly neighborhood coffee house, her family get-togethers and her cheek-on-cheek outings at brightly lit pubs.You probably have an opinion on what dress looks good on her and what does not, what she loves eating and what she hates

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-63805773748286893702009-08-16T22:16:00.000-07:002009-08-16T22:19:05.439-07:00

The Ant Circus: It was a seasonal affair, organized with much gusto. The first rain always managed to flood the tiny homes of the black ants and they came out from all crevices in the courtyard with swift agility. There were always these half-an-inch deep puddles which made an ideal base to set up the circus. All he needed were construction materials: bricks, stones and bridges. Four or five

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-41172402240955351322009-08-06T18:29:00.000-07:002009-08-09T17:59:21.457-07:00

And so it happened that 4 gallon cans of milk in our refrigerator went bad at the same time. We were like, what the hell?? Milk cans bought from Indian stores at cheaper rates already had a bad reputation, and this catastrophe just confirmed it. While we toyed around with the ideas of throwing it away to throwing it in the face of the Patel C&C, I recalled a recipe my mom used to make when milk

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-44059336453921382732009-07-10T14:00:00.000-07:002010-07-08T11:12:43.506-07:00

Disclaimer: Not for the faint-hearted... i mean faint-humored.. in fact, faint-tummied.The ultra-liberal, shiny, open-aired, sparkling clean loo at the US Consulate Library at Mumbai enchanted me the minute I entered the restroom. By loo, I mean those set of cubicles with bare minimum walls and spacious pots with the 24 hour water and tissue supply. It served as a microcosm of the American

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-10768830266310502612009-06-11T18:09:00.000-07:002009-07-20T13:37:29.157-07:00

Some hilarious snippets from our Orkut community discussions. LMAO...=======================================================PLACEMENTS:Tripti: Do any one has any info regarding placements at rutgers in wireless/communications/DSP?? or any field in ECE ????Madhura: well the placement scenario in the field of vlsi is quite good..n the companies that come for placements...the info is there on the

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-68221564570954686332009-05-03T17:35:00.000-07:002009-05-04T19:28:27.842-07:00

*********The May Day race is a 25-mile relay race, run annually in early May. The primary teams competing are the mathematics departments of Rutgers and Princeton University. Begun in 1976 as the "Mathematicians May Day Relay", the name was changed in 1997 to the "Fred Almgren Memorial Relay Race," honoring one of the event's most active participants, Fred Almgren. A trophy, with the winners'

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-23940010347440829262009-04-20T13:50:00.000-07:002009-04-20T19:12:11.974-07:00

I see the train approaching Vile Parle at a modest speed, from the overhead bridge. "Paach saintaalis ki dheemi Borivali local, platform kramank ek par aa rahi hai" goes the announcement. I break into a run. 30 Steps to the platform, skipping one at a time. I see the hefty students of neighboring Mithibai, NM and Dahanu college mixing with Sathaye's skinny aspirants. Damn! Why do all colleges

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-41483734838045589092009-03-25T09:55:00.000-07:002012-01-30T12:57:24.303-08:00

It strikes 8-30 pm in the laptop clock. I switch off all the lights and put the laptop on battery mode. I can hear the sound of the refrigerator. It gives me the feeling of being airborne in an aeroplane. I look outside and see half a dozen lighted houses and I sigh. Jay wakes up and wonders why the house is plunged in darkness. I tell him. He cant say No. I plan to evaluate the meaning of

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-78764923632888732102008-12-07T06:10:00.000-08:002011-07-13T10:22:54.002-07:00

They change their gtalk/gmail/yahoo/orkut/facebook status messages... "Terror in -----" "Terrorist B******ds" "ABC thinks terrorists should be hanged and stoned in public" "XYZ salutes Indian Army" They start tweeting and blogging incessantly providing the most unverifiable news of the minute.. A post every hour... News links.. Video links... Snapshots of bloodshed and mayhem... They ping one

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-20794293104427936832008-11-26T11:58:00.000-08:002008-11-26T12:17:01.685-08:00

root: phy:/dev/hda1Error: root device does not existBuzz...??Her: Firing at Taj HotelMe: what?Her: firing and grenades at taj, oberoi, cstMe: Its happening now??Her: Yes (copy pastes News bulletin for my benefit)Me: ok, ya, achha...Her: Looks like these terrorists have a lot of time on their hands. They could do my assignment instead.I ignore the comment.State of alertness. My drowsiness is

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-73798296211831586242008-11-14T17:28:00.000-08:002012-01-30T12:53:13.519-08:00

"Hi, How are you?" Any reply that goes beyond the 3 words "I am good" will be ignored outright... "Wassup?" No reply expected at all. "Thank You" Must be followed by a "you are welcome" within 2 seconds, or considered rude... "Morning..." Silent "good"... "Beautiful weather..." Any random passerby might offer that to you with a big smile under blue skies, bright sunlight and temperatures

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-39439692596555217222008-10-23T18:27:00.000-07:002012-01-30T12:50:19.294-08:00

The 27th of November, 2007... It was a sunny lazy afternoon... But not lazy enough for me... for I was expecting him... for whom I waited so long... No one was at home. I was all alone. My pulse raced as I anticipated our meeting. How would he look like? Would he satisfy me? After all, we had met online just once. I had never done this before. Back in India, the need just wasn't strong enough.

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-35780651247609477362008-07-14T17:10:00.000-07:002009-02-10T17:46:02.373-08:00

There are some things that you can relate to so well that they have a profound impact on you... This piece on the Wikipedia saved me from hitting the rock bottom a few days back... Lucky me, i knew this phrase already and just had to google it out...It also brought out a stark reality about us. Fear of the Unknown. We fear something we do not understand. We fear strangers unless and until we talk

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-15142615136635922252008-06-05T16:00:00.000-07:002009-05-08T07:41:25.938-07:00

This secret has been well guarded for years... It's time for it to come out before everyone... I have a peculiar God's gift... I can listen to animals' talk... Yes, just like that man in his torn underpants running about in the woods with a pole tied to his back... What was his name again?? Darr, I guess...Animals in India just didn't hold any interesting conversations to listen to... It was the

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-35075071056945384152008-05-28T14:28:00.000-07:002012-01-30T12:39:32.404-08:00

At my workplace, they used to hand us a letter, call that a progress report, of our work at the dining hall. We needed to accumulate a certain number of points (20, wasn't it?) and have no more than a few absentees. Well, if at all they had any idea of the secret activities that went behind that spotless fabric, this is how the letter would have looked/sounded like... Reader discretion advised..

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-29274321513129241072008-05-28T13:59:00.000-07:002012-01-30T12:30:09.507-08:00

A special thanks to Miss Vaidehi for keeping this alive... This piece was written after my first semester when I spent 3 months working at a dining hall at college avenue campus 'Brower Commons' ... My first job, it gave me so much food for thought as it did for my belly... It was another thing that I hated with all my heart, but still could not bear to leave... It was in those intense moments

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-83112527050535458952008-05-25T22:33:00.000-07:002010-07-08T11:15:26.743-07:00

There was a time when I hated Facebook - the all-american social networking site... I still hate it with all my heart, but there are some addictions you can't really get rid off (unless you are dropped on a deserted island with a gorgeous blonde) ... This piece formed in my mind long back... I wish i had written it then, cos I was full of ideas about it... This might be a little bland, but does

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-59319875336836605432007-12-23T14:25:00.000-08:002009-02-17T18:08:29.413-08:00

I never really understood Einstein's theory of relativity, or the likes of it as understood by the commons. Not until now. As I bounce today on my seat listening to RHCP (suggested by a very dear friend of mine) without grasping a single word of the Zephyr song, I contemplate on the semester that passed by me like a storm raging in fiercely but leaving me unhurt. Except for an additional inch of

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-63692464023819669822007-11-04T07:46:00.000-08:002010-07-08T11:16:15.057-07:00

'It's 1 am and i am in my study room in the city that never sleeps... cars rush by my window... trucks that belong to state highways pass by the narrow lane of kastur park... a raunchy music plays nearby in some hut... noise and me, inseparable...''Traffic signal at borivli station... i hold lassi in my hand... chattering friends.. i dont hear them... vehicles honk... autos sputter amd fume...

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-68793340273759781652007-10-26T17:35:00.000-07:002009-06-03T22:00:54.732-07:00

"God, I do not want to die virgin... There is so much to see... i mean new places... damnn... new states and countries, new culture... I am just 22, it would be so unfairrrrr"I gulped down the huge bile of slime in my mouth as I struggled to find a polythene bag in the pouch. The thunder at esselworld is fine, but such an experience at an height of 15630 feet above sea level is no fun at all.

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-66501673834283107192007-10-14T12:56:00.000-07:002009-06-03T21:54:33.444-07:00

The hullabaloo outside the terminal contrasted sharply with the serenity of the airport... Through the security checks and trying to guess which of the pretty ladies was going to be our air hostess on Lufthansa, Jay and me settled down in our seats at the lounge... I was starting to wonder how I was going to spend the 3 hours before the flight when Jay forked out his cell and said 'Use up this

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8172369300253619994.post-24674237343243882092007-08-26T16:24:00.000-07:002009-11-16T09:33:53.500-08:00

'So, all set to fly?''Did you check the flight time properly? One of my friends missed his flight cos he reached the airport at 2:50 pm instead on 2:50 am..''So, both of you brothers are going abroad the same year. We will miss you...'"Siddharth, Tara aaji's on phone, come quickly..."I checked the clock. Quarter to eight, and this damn resume was still incomplete. I ran to the bedroom.'Hello aaji

S.Waghhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01097574294579507293noreply@blogger.com12