Sunday, March 28, 2010

Colors of the G Spectrum

India saw the advent of the G spectrum which is a good sign. Considering our tax money paid for the extra commission for the king as well is... ahem...

Here is the simple commission formula

For 2G
2X 100 Crores = 200 Crores = Commission
For 3G
3X 100 Crores = 300 Crores = Commission
For 4G
4X 100 Crores = 400 Crores = Commission

Where 2, 3, 4,... are Generations,
And the commission is an accumulated figure of a Swiss Bank account.

The general representation becomes

For GenerationG
GenerationX 100 Crores = Amount = Commission

You are brainy enough to guess the rest of it.

Now that’s what I call a GenerationX spectral series.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Saving Stripey

What are these? Prized processions? Trophies? Or just a part of a cadaver scaring you to the core if seen in reality? Will you display this proudly in your home? No? I thought so. I don’t think we can accept what was once a magnificent life form to be killed and hung as a trophy to showcase man’s skill’s with a gun. Of course, I don’t think this has ever happened in the case of homosapiens.

But what of this?

The population of India in the last 10 years has increased by 15 crores. It’s not the same story when it comes to our national animal.
There are just 1411 Tigers left. Don’t let it become a fading portrait

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* all photos used here have been taken from Google Images.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Beasts of Destruction

Shadows of phantoms and nightmares for dreams
The cry of your soul in the midst of the screams.
The stairway to heaven now broken and scarred
The end as we feel it as words from the bard.

The crazy old man with just one eye to see
Foretold his time and the future to be.
The madness, the mayhem- a life’s conundrum
Begging the angel that’s blessed you to drown.

Red skies and lightning bolts taking on dawn
The hopes of survival all dead and forlorn.
Beasts of destruction emerge from the sky
Burning the ground as they’re watching you die.

The advent of blackness, a sacrilege tomb
Psychics and lunatics spelling this doom.
The Gods with their powers got nothing to do
To condemn the mortals, a prophecy true.

Living today is to postpone the end
The haggard man laughs and rebukes your defense.
Hallucinations thats chasing you fast
Run from the future and run from your past.

The wake of a man as he walks on four legs
The mortals bow down and for mercy they beg.
Deliverance to seek and Deliver the weak
So reload your guns and kill or be killed.

Thursday, March 04, 2010

Jolly Rogers

Based on a True Incident.

Hiding in the Dust
4:00 A.M.

It was long shadowy night. Dead silent. Not a sound, except the rattling buzz of the cicadas. None but the soldiers could feel the tension and the pressure mounting. Every pound of the heart as heavy as a quake in all its annihilating glory. Victory promised Honor and it wasn’t farfetched. They waited. A lone drop of sweat made its way in a defined path between the eyebrows to the chin like it knew where it was heading. It was slow. Just like its decision to let go or not because once it hits the ground, it could mean information for the opposition. Deafening silence.

The soldiers looked like positioned gargoyles in stealth. Not one movement. It was a tunnel with light at one end of it. Literally, as it was covered from far. Then the inevitable happened. A sound. It lasted for just a fraction of a small moment. Nothing thereafter. Sometimes even a whisper is all that’s needed. The Major looked at his comrade and motioned that he had heard a sound. He received a ‘roger’ in return for they knew that there was just that one left. The one could mean a battalion if he was heavily armed with both firepower and strategy.

The opposition was planning. Planning well.

The Showdown
4:13 A.M.

The Major slowly sent out command, ‘Location zeroed in. Repeat. Location zeroed in.’
No response from the fourth man. He was dead.
One down. Three to go. One left.
They had waited too long. It was time to finish it. Once and for all. The soldiers nudged a step forward.

Just then a grenade flew from a diversion of the tunnel, as the soldiers looked, having expected but not prepared for it. They knew it was over. But then most unlikely of things happened. It was like divine intervention. The grenade on its upward projectile, hit the nearby wall, deflected and went back home. There was nothing the opposition could have done.

A BIG Boom!

The soldiers walked towards the place where the explosion had taken place and confirmed the body of a dead terrorist.

And we all roared with laughter as the scoreboard read

And that’s how the terrorist known as $p@rrow killed himself in the final game that night in a session of hectic counter strike.

It was 5:00 A.M. We switched off the lights and went off to sleep while the early morning sky still carried the echoes of our laughter.


$p@rrow - Vivek

$c@rf@ce - Vibushan

P@dfoot - Sriraj

Dumb - Siddharth

H@ckO$ -Vijayakrishnan

IdOnTKnowHowtoPLY - Anandh

Shot - Prashanth Goel


Tuesday, March 02, 2010

Defiance, Illiteracy or plain Dumb

I know it's been a loooong time since I went blog-trotting and since I contributed something to my blog. The twins are sleeping still.

Anyway, I happened to stumble upon this in Chennai (a lot of my whereabouts are in Chennai of late. You'll soon know why :) ) and I just wanted to post this.

The board reads "Please DO NOT dump Garbage here".

Now you can actually compare my post to Garbage, saying "Hey, wasn't that the garbage post?", and the answer might be "Which one?"...