tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35942321235689670852024-02-19T21:27:45.450+05:30SWAPNIL NARENDRA'DAYDREAMER FOR HIRE'Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-86968361306226594892020-06-18T11:54:00.000+05:302020-06-18T11:55:00.313+05:30Ishq E Dilli: The show at the Old Fort<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipt4qnehNGbVfhRRDyT277pD5G5eTtjZz3gEoIGKGArcv-ajfidihhDntgX9sjrReCFMbYipO1f2MvKp7ekePHr9mYYgH6-m2a3AWIuZd0e5S_D74nCssOAfQElh5X3dCc_UyJbZ0Av7I4/s1600/ied-04b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipt4qnehNGbVfhRRDyT277pD5G5eTtjZz3gEoIGKGArcv-ajfidihhDntgX9sjrReCFMbYipO1f2MvKp7ekePHr9mYYgH6-m2a3AWIuZd0e5S_D74nCssOAfQElh5X3dCc_UyJbZ0Av7I4/s640/ied-04b.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Ishq E Dilli is a light & sound show at the Old Fort. The show tells the history of the national capital mainly from the end of Prithviraj Chauhan's era.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(127, 127, 127); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; text-align: left;"><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><i>Words cannot describe how much I love Delhi, and in order to understand my love for it you need to read (or know) '<a href="http://zenpencils.com/comic/131-c-p-cavafy-ithaka/" target="_blank">Ithaka</a>'; a poem by Constantine P. Cavafy (you can read the beautiful comic on the poem by <a href="http://zenpencils.com/about/" target="_blank">Gavin Aung</a> on <a href="http://zenpencils.com/comic/131-c-p-cavafy-ithaka/" target="_blank">this link</a>).</i></span></blockquote></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">My father was born in this city, and he spent his childhood here until he moved to a small town in Uttar Pradesh called Khurja. And as I was growing up, my father used to tell me stories about this city; the national capital. Hence, to me this city has been a dream since my childhood. I remember travelling to Delhi as a child and staring all around in constant awe of this city. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now I have been living here for almost 10 years, and to tell you honestly I am living one of my childhood dreams. As I said earlier, words cannot describe how much I love this city. But it turned out as I am not the only crazy lover this city has had. There have been several paramours in the history of this mistress of a city. You can read so many history books (like me) in order to find out about all of them, or if you are not into reading, do not worry, I have got you covered.</span></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #444444; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">ISHQ E DILLI (इश्क़ ए दिल्ली -- Love for Delhi) is a magical Light and Sound show that retells the history of the national capital. The show takes place in the Old Fort premises every evening, except Fridays. There are two shows, first in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hindustani_language" target="_blank">Hindustani</a> and then in English.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The show uses high end equipment for lights and sound, and is projected over the walls of the Old Fort. Written and directed by Himanshu Sabharwal, the show runs 50 minutes long and consists of two full length songs (just like Bollywood, pure entertainment).</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(127, 127, 127); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The show begins from the time of Prithviraj Chauhan's death but also takes a flashback into the time of Ved Vyas' epic </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(127, 127, 127);">Mahabharata</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(127, 127, 127); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">. From Khiljis to Mughals and British to Modern India, it covers almost every time period of the city, providing you with some really interesting anecdotes about the city and the kings who once ruled here.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(127, 127, 127); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have been more than 10 times to this show, but I am still ready to go there any day. I never feel bored while watching this show and trust me, I am a really harsh critic when it comes to storytelling. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(127, 127, 127); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">So if you are free any evening (except Fridays), do watch this show and learn about this city and the rulers who fell in love with it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(127, 127, 127); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The show plays in an open space so do take the weather in consideration. If it rains, the administration refunds the ticket money. Also, the show's timing changes according to the seasons. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Sept. to Oct. 7.00 – 8.00 PM (Hindi), 8.30 – 9.30 PM (English)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Nov. to Jan. 6.00 – 7.00 PM (Hindi), 7.30 – 8.30 PM (English)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Feb. to April 7.00 – 8.00 PM (Hindi), 8.30 – 9.30 PM (English)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">May to Aug. 7.30 – 8.30 PM (Hindi), 9.00 – 10.00 PM (English)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Entry fee is INR 100 for Adults, and INR 50 for Children below 14, Senior Citizens and Students. </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Remember, Fridays are off !</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The nearest metro station is Pragati Maidan (Blue Line), but there is ample parking space, do take your vehicle if you'd like to.</span></div>
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Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-40960472680123916622016-08-28T04:23:00.003+05:302020-06-18T11:56:47.807+05:30Trip to Kankwari Fort 4: The Extraction<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We had conquered the hike to Kankwari Fort, and now it was time to go back home. But first we needed to get out from Sariska and reach Tehla. Yaadav Ji gave us an idea.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">The Forest Ranger Post, Kankwari</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was well over 8 AM when we started descending from the fort. Yaadav Ji had told us that the our ride would be here by 8:30 and so we hurried on our way to the village.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span></span><span><a name='more'></a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Read the <a href="http://swapnilnarendra.blogspot.in/2016/08/trip-to-kankwari-fort-3.html" target="_blank">previous part of this post here</a>.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yaadav Ji was sitting in one of the houses (from where he spotted us last night), and so we went straight to that house. Yaadav Ji was lounging on the cot. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><a href="http://www.peasantautonomy.org/living-for-generations.html" target="_blank">Kankwari used to be a small village. But after the Tiger resurrection program in 2008, government shifted the residents from the core area to the outskirts of Sariska</a>. The Google Map image (year 2013) shows around 7 - 13 houses around the fort. There were only 3 left when we were there. Yaadav Ji told us that their migration is in process as well, and they will be moved out too.</i></span></blockquote>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">The house Yaadav Ji spends his time at. Belongs to a guy named Kishore Gujjar.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have no idea with whom Yaadav Ji will spend his time when there will be nobody there. But Yaadav Ji didnt seem to care much. We were served tea at the house. Sahaj didn't like it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yaadav Ji then lead us back to the ranger post.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">At the post, we checked our bags to ensure that we are not leaving anything here accidentally. We were all set by 8:30, but our ride was late. My shoes were still wet and I was dying to get out of them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yaadav Ji gave us some 'instructions'; such as .. "dont show your camera to the Jeep driver.. I have told him that you were my friends visiting me and not tourists.." it was because the park was legally closed. I dont know how much trouble it could have brought on us, but we didnt pay much attention and just pocketed my cameras (battery was almost dead anyways). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>The Jeep wasn't free. Yaadav Ji told us that the Jeep costs a standard fee, but I doubt that money would ever go to the pockets of the National Forest's bank account. Yaadav Ji got a little richer that day.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We passed our time chatting with Yaadav Ji for some more time when we saw a Jeep coming our way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was a 4x4 Safari Jeep that stopped before the Ranger Post. Excited, we started depositing our bags in the Jeep. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Our driver Mr Ghaansi Raam was a fun guy who unlike Yaadav Ji had mastered the art of talking to people. He told us all about Tehla. We promised to bring him a bottle of good liquor on our next trip to Kankwari. Yaadav Ji told us that he abhorred booze and so we did not dare to take out our stash anytime.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">We didn't see this temple in the dark.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">For some strange reason Yaadav Ji kept trying to establish that all of us were drunk when we arrived at Kankwari. Perhaps he confused our exhaustion with drunkenness. And now to thought of it, some traits of both the conditions are similar. Our feet were stumbling in a zagged manner while following him to the post in the night, and my tongue was all slurry and a dry throat did not help me communicate effectively. At night, he told us about his brother who was an alcoholic and how it ruined his life. We didnt even bring the matter of the booze in our bags after that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was another thing that seemed odd to all of us. When Yaadav Ji took us to his post in the night, the first question that came our way was, "Kaun jaat ho aap log?" (What caste do you all belong to?).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Living in Delhi, we are not used to being asked about our caste or origins. But being born and raised in rural UP I had certainly heard this question a lot many times. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Read about <a href="http://swapnilnarendra.blogspot.in/2016/08/trip-to-kankwari-2-hike_25.html" target="_blank">the night we met Yaadav Ji</a></i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I laughed at the question, and it made the old ranger a little confused. But when we realised that he needed an answer, we all told him our backgrounds. He seemed quite satisfied with the caste of the people he was hosting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">When we asked him why he asked our caste, Yaadav ji told us, "There are mostly two kinds of people who come here and kill endangered species." he took a pause and then said, "Muslims and khateeks."</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJa9eC8DTT5tnuiY0d6XaXxjD69-vpH9tRJY3CkCHSFTIHWiAz3QAP7jE9x7gfxT2IwjE3pizPRcuwXHjJnvsHhVMvt1dL4DvbXYEU1XXUWsPAuuQ40PAMonFBa0_6dnq7HUiSFixPD1X_/s1600/DSC_4206.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJa9eC8DTT5tnuiY0d6XaXxjD69-vpH9tRJY3CkCHSFTIHWiAz3QAP7jE9x7gfxT2IwjE3pizPRcuwXHjJnvsHhVMvt1dL4DvbXYEU1XXUWsPAuuQ40PAMonFBa0_6dnq7HUiSFixPD1X_/w530-h800/DSC_4206.jpg" width="530" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">"Who goes there?.. and also what is your caste?"</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Piyush and Abhay did not even know what the word 'khateek' meant and so they asked when we were at the fort. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khateek" target="_blank">Sahaj and I explained it to them</a>. All the time we were with him, Yaadav ji called us by our last names. We told him our full names, but he only took the last names in his database. He still calls me sometimes and perhaps is the only person in the world who calls me 'Sharma' (</span><i style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I don't use Sharma as my last name</i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">).</span><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>I wasn't surprised that a man asked me and my friends about our caste, especially a man like Yaadav Ji. What made me laugh was the fact that we were in the middle of nowhere, where people were as scarce as job opportunities in the area. And Yaadav Ji needed to know what caste we were. He had only one family to be with at Kankwari and I dont know what their caste was (though Yaadav Ji told us that they were tribals).</i></span></blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-THhoK1R7whcLqglrxomSirKska7GnZa8Y8ATYGJpHVEcH6AMgfpj7s5H7bJkQ49ygODqw0GTVZVrGAsiNjJmICjftLQhOfy4IMV8aE1Kyzxdw5i9yLIhMNCfKgVUxwOek_SqhDONTts/s1600/100_0807.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-THhoK1R7whcLqglrxomSirKska7GnZa8Y8ATYGJpHVEcH6AMgfpj7s5H7bJkQ49ygODqw0GTVZVrGAsiNjJmICjftLQhOfy4IMV8aE1Kyzxdw5i9yLIhMNCfKgVUxwOek_SqhDONTts/s640/100_0807.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Yaadav Ji didnt like our cameras. This is the only shot that we have of him.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">After setting our stuff in the Jeep we bid our goodbye to Yaadav Ji who took me in a corner and smiled, "Trip..." he said with a sheepish smile.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was utterly confused, "Trip?" I repeated the word, and then it hit me, that smile was the universal sign for the word "Tip". I called Abhay (he was the only one who had cash by that time on him) and he tipped Yaadav Ji (generously). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We got out of his hair after that.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikYz6sMfGqyena-KP96QYwbx1pK_TL7Bu9KTKPXnakSAaF7LSaDNUkjXXjpGsvPqses9dn5yDPPJ1YD3fpJyanpUAeiZgmkJplgxBQAcslXZnoNgwbtf_6B_ocn_L1qjgp0zYGb9o7vO6S/s1600/DSC_4216.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikYz6sMfGqyena-KP96QYwbx1pK_TL7Bu9KTKPXnakSAaF7LSaDNUkjXXjpGsvPqses9dn5yDPPJ1YD3fpJyanpUAeiZgmkJplgxBQAcslXZnoNgwbtf_6B_ocn_L1qjgp0zYGb9o7vO6S/s640/DSC_4216.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Bye bye Kankwari, you beauty !</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Jeep drove away and we took one last look at the fort on the hill. I dont know about the others, but I didnt want to leave. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The jeep rode over the terrain like it was no big deal. The river was still raging when we reached, but the Jeep cleared it like it was a damn puddle. It was my (and maybe the guys' too) first time in a 4x4 or a Safari Jeep. And if you haven't been in a 4x4 on a difficult terrain, you are missing something in your life. It give you a feel of flying.</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxW8oIUBJU5mHcHPV5sFnQEJT1Ah6VuV-WSuCNvPZQcb8Rh2r0d8SLsWP6dlvfuKWmWq5rpvhkw5NSIf2C65g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The Jeep crossed the BIG SWAMP like it was nothing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The ride back was like a recap of our hike in reverse. The people, villages, houses and faces we encountered yesterday were still there and staring at us. But now we were like some celebrities. <a href="http://swapnilnarendra.blogspot.in/2016/08/trip-to-kankwari-2-hike_25.html" target="_blank">Being in the jeep made me remember my condition just a day before</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The trail that took us around 10 hours to complete on foot, took less than 45 minutes in that Jeep. Where we were enjoying the ride, it also made us feel that our whole hike was so frivolous. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeW3s3P2lMfux0Fn8C1tu1nymBiUrd6L9WLVux3z7NqhIqhbpj4fW5_uCEMG85juAfbN0wwvLd8gMnnzjNh8BeZ943XMy2_9GUGfn_b7zUR1eJEZ2_iieZPlyEqDSEO5vzNO22PDDZMG7-/s1600/P_20160815_093255_1_BF_p.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeW3s3P2lMfux0Fn8C1tu1nymBiUrd6L9WLVux3z7NqhIqhbpj4fW5_uCEMG85juAfbN0wwvLd8gMnnzjNh8BeZ943XMy2_9GUGfn_b7zUR1eJEZ2_iieZPlyEqDSEO5vzNO22PDDZMG7-/s640/P_20160815_093255_1_BF_p.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Kankwari in the background, us in the 4x4.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ghaansi Ram ji took us to Neelkanth Temple where Sahaj decided to stay in the jeep. Piyush, Abhay and I checked out the temple (I had been there before).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We reached Tehla before 11 and had some breakfast. Sahaj went back to the police station to get his car. We thanked Ghaansi Ram ji for his service and left for Delhi.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ghaansi Ram ji was amazed to know that we hiked our way from Tehla to Kankwari. He said, "<i>In my service of 16 years, I haven't seen anyone doing this.</i>"</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2FcNiRbGvYfcHz8nBRsqcvuo6hsgN_el4V49Ql97GgTqPHPdzDVcNg44AOZZYHpdT0enyV2Fcbm6FmheAlqhBQiHVh735RHT33FqnaHh6lOWcAzf9BgAsWZqsjgALE7vkNRqo1hSVmwIJ/s1600/IMG_20160814_130806623_BURST005-01.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2FcNiRbGvYfcHz8nBRsqcvuo6hsgN_el4V49Ql97GgTqPHPdzDVcNg44AOZZYHpdT0enyV2Fcbm6FmheAlqhBQiHVh735RHT33FqnaHh6lOWcAzf9BgAsWZqsjgALE7vkNRqo1hSVmwIJ/s640/IMG_20160814_130806623_BURST005-01.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">At the beginning of the hike.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span><a href="http://swapnilnarendra.blogspot.in/2016/08/trip-to-kankwari-1-arrival-in-tehla.html" target="_blank">And so we became the first group who hiked from Tehla to <b style="color: #134f5c;">Kankwari</b></a></span></i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">After our adventure we highly recommend not hiking to Kankwari. Sariska National Park provides Safari Jeeps for tourists. You can visit their website and book a tour.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">And if you get to meet Yaadav Ji, tell him <i>Sharma from Delhi</i> said Hi.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">End.</span><br />
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Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-7404641389719245042016-08-26T03:38:00.002+05:302020-06-18T11:57:22.984+05:30Trip to Kankwari Fort 3: The Payoff<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "\"trebuchet ms\"", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Kankwari Fort</b>, is a great example of how <b>Karma</b> works. It's past contains a message of '<i><b>you reap what you sow</b></i>' in a wonderful story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4MiStmz99WUbCzwi2Xi08PhEDugsK373dmehffymEEwSBEDgxI11JMYJk8DKlH2TNAwlvyaB__1J8Q3X4mogw-OzUR9N6UM8cMKGFn7JbpCYO8ELfF8KsL-A85v0obBpGh2xyhfO1ySJ6/s1600/DSC_4222A.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4MiStmz99WUbCzwi2Xi08PhEDugsK373dmehffymEEwSBEDgxI11JMYJk8DKlH2TNAwlvyaB__1J8Q3X4mogw-OzUR9N6UM8cMKGFn7JbpCYO8ELfF8KsL-A85v0obBpGh2xyhfO1ySJ6/s640/DSC_4222A.jpg" /></a></span><br />
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<div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">'Its right there.' we kept saying as we trudged towards the hill in front of us. The majestic silhouette of the fort was clear and we could even see a few details in the moonlight.</span></div><div><span><a name='more'></a></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A new energy filled our cramped legs and we picked an unnatural pace for our exhausted bodies. The plans to set our tent inside the fort and enjoying the view were occupying my mind. All of us were discussing the first thing we are going to do after reaching the fort.</span></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Read the <a href="http://swapnilnarendra.blogspot.in/2016/08/trip-to-kankwari-2-hike_25.html" target="_blank">Previous Part of this trip here</a>.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But as we were about to reach the foot of the fort-hill, a</span><span style="font-size: large;"> loud voice called out for us, "Re Kaun Hai Re?" (Who Goes There?)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This was our introduction to <b>Atar Kumar Yaadav</b>, the forest ranger posted in Kankwari. We greeted <b>Yaadav Ji</b> and told him that we were here to see the fort and spend the night here.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We were hoping the man will be impressed on knowing that we hiked all the way from Tehla, but to our surprise, he almost lashed out at us, calling this whole adventure "foolish".</span><span style="font-size: large;"> Yaadav Ji gave us several reasons why our mere presence in this area in the given time period was illegal. "The park remains closed for tourists from Aug - Oct. And you need permission to visit this fort from the Forest Office or some kind of local authority.", Yaadav Ji told us in a clear non friendly tone.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Dropping our bagpacks right on the ground, we told Yaadav Ji that we were in no shape to go back and needed a place to spend the night. After pausing for a moment, he stood up, grabbed his small laathi and ordered us to follow him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">"<i>Where are we going?</i>" Abhay asked me. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"I dont know." I said while picking up my bag over my shoulders. Abhay stayed with me for a moment and waited till everybody else was a little further from us. He then whispered in my ear, "Do you know how to wield a knife?"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: medium;"><i>(Abhay had been quite paranoid about the village people mugging or even murdering us since we crossed a few shady characters in the villages on our way).</i></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Confused at first, I nodded positively. </span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">To which Abhay took out his swiss knife (that we usually use to open beer bottles and such), and said, "<i>Alright, then keep this</i>." </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">My body was shutting down, but I laughed so hard, "<i>This is not a knife.</i>" I said to Abhay, wishing to have a real knife and quote Crocodile Dundee "THIS is a knife."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Yaadav Ji informed us that</span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"> since camping in the Fort or anywhere in Sariska is not allowed, the only place for us to spend the night is the Forest Ranger Post. "I have a few cots there. You boys can sleep on them." Yaadav Ji said walking steadily.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;">When Piyush told him that we had our sleeping bags and could sleep on the ground, he replied, "No you can't. There are cobras here. Sleep on the cots."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I looked at Sahaj who smiled playfully. At that time we thought this old man was trying to scare us. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">We were wrong!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We reached the Forest Ranger Post and Yaadav Ji graciously opened the doors of his abode for us. He then went on to his radio set, and informed the Forest HQ about our presence. We took off our shoes and settled in.</span></span><br />
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<i><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Yaadav Ji was not friendly at all in his manner of talking and we could understand why. Cut off from the civilisation, Kankwari is a place that doesnt see many visitors, let alone people to have a casual conversation with. "He is not used to be around people." Abhay rightly concurred whispering to me.</span></i></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After catching our breath and chatting with Yaadav Ji for sometime, we ate our dinner, spread our sleeping bags on the cots and fell asleep.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Around 2AM my gall bladder woke me up. I was not feeling like wearing my shoes and so I just walked out of the post with my headlamp (now I admit that it was utterly foolish of me). I peed behind the building and came back quickly. Before going back to the cot, I grabbed my camera and took some night time shots of the fort and around. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Kankwari at 2AM (long exposure).</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">After a few shots, and taking in the beautiful view of the place, I went back to my cot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Laying in my sleeping bag I closed my eyes when I heard some noise from the floor. I turned the headlamp on and the sight on the floor made every hair on the back of neck stand like a patriot during the national anthem.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">There was a thick dark brown snake messing around with my bagpack on the floor. Stupidly, I had left my bag opened after taking my dinner out, and now the Nagraj was trying to find a grub inside it. I wanted to wake Abhay up, but my mind had stopped working. As I focussed the headlamp on the Cobra, it hissed angrily, making me almost shit my pants.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I turned off the lamp and crawled back into my sleeping bag. The idea of that cobra coming on my bed was giving me the shivers but then I realised even Yaadav Ji was sleeping on a cot like us. It must be safe !</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I dont remember when I fell asleep.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Yaadav Ji's shrill voice was calling my name. I woke up and found it was 6:30AM. "Get up!" Yaadav Ji yelled near my head and ran out. I got up and found Piyush and Sahaj were already up in the porch. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I asked Sahaj to check the bag, and he poked it with my monopod. Nagraj had left the building.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Piyush and I went number two in the forest, while Sahaj and Abhay decided to hold it in. After washing our faces and brushing out teeth, we saw the Sun rising from behind the hills. We were ready to go to the fort.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yaadav Ji had told us that he could call us a Safari Jeep that could take us back to Tehla. We didnt waste any time and asked him to arrange for it. After that we started our hike to the fort. Without any bags on our shoulders, we were feeling free and light. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">10 more minutes of hike, and we were at the main gates of Kankwari.</span></td></tr>
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<i><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: medium;">ORIGINALLY I HAD UPLOADED OVER 25 IMAGES IN THIS BLOG POST, BUT FOR SOME REASON MY BLOG STARTED MESSING UP DUE TO SO MANY OF THEM. AFTER I TRIED REMOVING SEVERAL IMAGES, THE BLOG REGAINED ITS SANITY BACK. HENCE I AM UNABLE TO UPLOAD ALL OF THE PICTURES I INTENDED TO SHOW YOU HERE. <b><a href="https://goo.gl/photos/umTWowuMwj5wtQMe8" target="_blank">BUT YOU CAN CLICK HERE TO SEE ALL THOSE BEAUTIFUL IMAGES</a>.</b></span></span></i></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The fort is just an enclosure surrounding a small palace. There was no requirement to build a fort here, but Sawai Jai Singh did it to provide work for his subjects when the region was hit by a famine.</span><br />
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<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jai_Singh_I" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Sawai Jai Singh</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"> was a 'Mirza Raja' (Senior General) of the Mughal Emperor Shah Jehaan (Taj Mahal waale) and aided him during many raids and battles (especially the ones where Jai Singh fought for him in Afghanistan). Dara Shikoh, the secular crown prince was quite liberal in his views, but was a terrible general and strategist. And when Jai Singh pointed out flaws in </span><span style="font-family: "\"trebuchet ms\"", sans-serif; font-size: large;">his </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">battle strategies, he grew bitter towards him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Dara Shikoh used to taunt and humiliate Jai Singh at any given opportunity, but the Rajput King never said a word back (I think it was mostly because Dara Shikoh was the crown prince and fav son of Jai Singh's boss). But the irony bit Dara in the posterior when Aurangzeb imprisoned him in Kankwari Fort; the fort built by Jai Singh.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In a way, Karma had planned to add insult to Dara's injury long ago when Jai Singh started this fort. The fate had planned this to pay Dara for his bitterness towards a great king, and it worked out beautifully like Clockwork! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was Jai Singh's payoff for silently bearing the humiliation from an inferior general.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">But now it was time for our payoff. We remained in the fort for around an hour. It was a beautiful morning, and a lovely weather. We were able to see our last night's entry point in the valley.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The fort is mesmerising, not because of its architecture, but its location. The view from the bastions is simply amazing. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Its a quite small fort, but what it lacks in area, it makes up with its wonderful view. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The palace inside is quite small and symmetrically messed up. The structure had clear signs of renovations, but it was a botched up job. The original paintings were painted upon with lime powder and white paint. Weed as tall as 5 feet was all over the fort, telling us that this fort is seriously lagging in maintenance. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">A little history of the fort, and the Mahadeo Temple mentioned in the text. (From "Gazzetter of Ulwar" by Maj Powlette 1878).</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;">The fort was almost usurped by the resort mafia a few years ago. They did some repair jobs inside the fort, which completely ruined the fort's original beauty. But a few reports in the local media forced the government to take action and the mafia was kicked out of the fort. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">However the shitty renovations have destroyed the fort's interiors now. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There is not much to see or do in the fort, but the place just doesnt let you make you mind to leave. In that moment, I remembered the lowest points of yesterday's hike and realised that the reward was well worth all the troubles. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I plan to go there again, but this time in a Safari Jeep.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk7h6hnjq0lMfg4AOyrhspe16frpE-XM2bl9SS8cOgK8DwuxYZVeCzvhCEERMRzAJ0c3zGdYu1jDrCDobe7BWW87CGaDfUN6cIGt0ZPD1u3wxMAsCaeZsFEiwtdDc1F-QA5q-HVKovzi5V/s1600/DSC_4181.jpg" style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk7h6hnjq0lMfg4AOyrhspe16frpE-XM2bl9SS8cOgK8DwuxYZVeCzvhCEERMRzAJ0c3zGdYu1jDrCDobe7BWW87CGaDfUN6cIGt0ZPD1u3wxMAsCaeZsFEiwtdDc1F-QA5q-HVKovzi5V/s640/DSC_4181.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Took this while descending</span></td></tr>
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<i><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Another reminder: <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/umTWowuMwj5wtQMe8" target="_blank">You can view the images of the fort by clicking here.</a></span></span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>In the final part, we get out of Sariska in <b>style</b>!</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><i style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://swapnilnarendra.blogspot.in/2016/08/trip-to-kankwari-fort-4-extraction.html" target="_blank">Read the CONCLUSION of this trip here.</a></span></i></span></div>
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Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com0Kankwari Fort, SH 29A, Rundh Kankwari, Rajasthan 301410, India27.332325 76.36525899999992419.968623 66.038110499999931 34.696027 86.692407499999916tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-31859620874393711012016-08-25T02:46:00.002+05:302020-06-18T11:57:43.088+05:30Trip to Kankwari Fort 2: The Hike<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We began our hike for the <b>Kankwari Fort</b> after arriving in <b>Tehla</b>. Little did we know that it was going to challenge our bodies and will.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span><a name='more'></a></span>We began our hike around 12:50. After walking through Tehla, we took a narrow road to the right and crossed a village or two until we started hearing a loud gurgling sound at a distance. It was the water from the Mangalsar Dam falling into a river. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Dam Son! (The Mangalsar Dam) Photos: Piyush</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">People had gathered there to take pictures and getting their feet wet. Some locals were even swimming. We wanted to stay but decided to come back the next day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Read <a href="http://swapnilnarendra.blogspot.in/2016/08/trip-to-kankwari-1-arrival-in-tehla.html" target="_blank">Part 1 of this trip here</a>.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We learned from a local that this was the heaviest rainfall recorded in years, and the river was overflowing after many years. Good news right? NO. I will tell you later why.</span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">On our way we found several spots where the river was overflowing the road. The water was deep enough to submerge our ankles and any hiker can tell you that its not a good thing to have wet feet. We crossed several of these overflowing rivers on our way.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><i><b>I SHOT VIDEOS OF US WALKING THROUGH THOSE OVERFLOWING ROADS, BUT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THOSE.</b></i></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">After we reached Dabkan (the last village on the ground level), the good road had left us behind and now it was a monstrosity of patchworks that was riddled by random holes and rocks all over the place. The climb to the Neelkanth temple was ahead of us. Sahaj decided to climb the rocks instead of walking on the road. Due to my leg injury and ‘<i>a few extra pounds</i>’ I was lagging behind. Abhay was kind enough to keep me company, while Sahaj and Piyush continued their rock climbing. After an hour or so, we were at the top of the mountain. My lungs were on fire, but the view from the top was breathtaking. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">(Top) View from the mountain, (Bottom) The imposing gate of Sariska Tiger Reserve.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We spent some time resting and chit chatted with a few locals. Throughout our hike, the locals were astonished upon knowing that we were hiking to Kankwari, all the way from Tehla. Maybe this was something that was either very bold or ridiculously stupid. I believe it was a little bit of both. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">On our way, Piyush lost his glasses. My prescription sunglasses gave him some relief, but I doubt he was able to clearly see the beauty of the place. Poor guy!</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><i><span style="color: #0b5394;">To understand the topography of Sariska, you will have to imagine it as a valley. Surrounded by the Aravali mountains, Sariska is a valley in the middle of a series of hills that act as natural walls. To enter the Sariska Tiger Reserve, you have to climb a hill and then descend. The local authorities provide safari jeeps on rentals, and guest houses to the tourists</span>. </i></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">On our way, we kept asking locals about Kankwari and whether we would be able to camp in the fort for the night. We got different answers from everybody we met. Some told us that the fort has a big lock, some told us the place was haunted and so we should turn back, a few told us it wont be possible to camp inside the fort, while a majority of people told us there would be no problem. </span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Many a times we were stopped by the locals and got the offer to stay at their place but we politely refused. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><i><span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>Sariska Tiger Reserve is a wildlife sanctuary and so there are no utilities available; which means no electricity or even cellphone reception. Our phones were blank with no bars. But since we have dowloaded the Sariska’s map, we were able to track our movement</b></span>.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then came the part where our wet feet started creating problems. Since our shoes were soaking wet, they lost their rigidity and our toes and ankle started cramping out. We took a break after 5 or so kilometres and Abhay pointed out that I had a blister on my let foot. That was the first to come. We rested for around 10 minutes and continued.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">As the sun started setting we grew worried, because the map and locals told us that we were still around 8-9 kilometres away from Kankwari. Our legs were cramping and the weight on our backs was making it even worse. And so we ended up taking small breaks at small distances, which only delayed us. And then, we saw a house with A JEEP parked in its porch. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Quickly, we all entered the dwelling and asked for the Jeep Owner. The idea was to hitch a ride to Kankwari Fort, because by that time </span><span style="font-family: "\"trebuchet ms\"", sans-serif; font-size: large;">we were feeling no shame in admitting that our bodies were in quite a bad shape.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "\"trebuchet ms\"", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The owner was away, but his wife graciously invited us into her home. The woman’s mother in law came first to see us, then the kids and some neighbours. While we were on a display on their cot, they treated us with tea and local berries.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">After around 15 minutes or so the Jeep Owner arrived and we asked him if he could drop us to Kankwari. But the man told us that there is no road after his village. Though he was ready to take us back to Tehla.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Without any means of transport to Kankwari, we decided to continue on foot. But we asked the man if he would be available to drop us to Tehla the next day. The man agreed and we promised to come back around 10-11 AM the next day.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We continued our hike, and realised why the man refused. The road soon ended after we exited his village and suddenly, even the trail ended. We were standing before a large pond filled with algae and god knows what. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I checked the map on my phone and found a small trail around the pond. The weed was as tall as us and the mud was quite shallow. Jumping over potholes we finally flanked the pond and got back to the trail that was quite muddy. We were entering another village and the Sun was already down.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">At that point, the map seemed to be messing with us. No matter how far we walked</span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">, it showed almost the same remaining distance as earlier. It was like those moments in office when you are just waiting for the time to be over, but it crawls at a snail’s pace.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Soon, it was dark and we found another local who graciously invited us to spend the night at his dwelling. We again politely refused and continued. Another gurgling sound was heard at a distance, and soon we were standing at the bank of a raging river in darkness.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">That moment, all of us had given up. We took down our bags and sat. Except for Sahaj and Abhay, who found two locals crossing the river from the other side. They observed how they crossed the river and suggested we follow their tracks. It was time to bring out my lights. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />For the trip, I had brought a headlamp and a flashlight with me. Apparently, nobody else in the group had an idea to take any illumination device. We again divided into two teams; this time I was with Sahaj and Piyush was with Abhay. We marked two spots to cross the river. Sahaj and I started from our spot while Piyush and Abhay were still busy taking off their shoes. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Imagine crossing this water. Only we did in the darkness of the night.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sahaj was behind me and the raging water made him panic. The water that was ankle deep near the shore, was above our knees in the middle. Besides the riverbed was filled with jagged rocks. It was difficult to find proper footing in the river, and I was using my monopod as a hiking pole. Abhay and Piyush were struggling because their spot was filled with thorny weeds under water. And suddenly Sahaj lost his footing in the strong current and grabbed my shoulder, but in panic, he pushed me. I fell into the river, and noticed my phone and camera going in the water. It was my mistake that I did not secure my devices by putting them in the bagpack.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I quickly got up and yelled at him for freaking out, but then realised he was still in panic mode. I asked him to grab my monopod and follow me. We reached the other side and collapsed. Abhay and Piyush were struggling on their way to our side. As they crossed the river, we come to know that Piyush had hurt his leg and was going to take some time, so Sahaj and I started on our own. Abhay stayed with Piyush.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><i>The river intersecting the Access road to Kankwari.</i></span></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I checked my camera, and was relieved to see that it was working. However, my phone was gone. I was in a pretty bad mood and was blaming Sahaj (who was walking beside me). But then it hit me, I was in the middle of nowhere after dark with my friends. We had no idea where we were going to spend the night, or what was waiting for us at the end of this hike. And suddenly, I realised that the waterlogged phone was the least of my worries. As we looked around, we were still surrounded by tall hills. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was beautiful !</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn6fNAFKvIUgzibS1kMkggg-lze75VXLh8LeV-NeyjbYDrCKlNNiEx62pGtqsmNm22A4a_UtELiq8q9G5Y8bzHYLgWn5MZsqJ8To_bsaNPFbVJPL7-akifVZwcDpHFUFL_D5q743nlCzbu/s1600/DSC_4088.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn6fNAFKvIUgzibS1kMkggg-lze75VXLh8LeV-NeyjbYDrCKlNNiEx62pGtqsmNm22A4a_UtELiq8q9G5Y8bzHYLgWn5MZsqJ8To_bsaNPFbVJPL7-akifVZwcDpHFUFL_D5q743nlCzbu/s640/DSC_4088.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Our view at the night.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Sahaj and I met a local, who told us that a few kilometers ahead of us was a small village called 'Kaaniyawaas'; where a milk carriage arrives every morning and goes back to Tehla. It filled our feet with a new energy and we decided to check the place out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">After around 40 more minutes, Sahaj and I reached Kaaniyawaas and the men there happily agreed to take us back to Tehla. We were asked to be there by 9:30 in the morning, after which they were to leave without us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We crossed the last village and were standing in the Kankwari valley. But now no trail was visible. A shepherd earlier suggested us to follow the cattle, but the buffalos were only interested in going to small ponds. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">While Sahaj and I looked around for a trail, Abhay and Piyush joined us. Abhay used his phone to check the GPS and we got back on the route.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">After we crossed two more water crossings, we were looking at a</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"> big hill with a Fort atop ahead of us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>We were there !</i></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ21Z2S9u94TaruD0utxi3nB_j9Em7Q-FFEjmJUslqNxCnMfZxnxFPeIpCpcz7uCayBx_ClEUMhcgKWcjvRAX11C_sVSGnPy8T51fw0JkpzzDOSdc7Wo0yDR5QOwKEaM0448T8yFYf2dZ7/s1600/DSC_4101.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ21Z2S9u94TaruD0utxi3nB_j9Em7Q-FFEjmJUslqNxCnMfZxnxFPeIpCpcz7uCayBx_ClEUMhcgKWcjvRAX11C_sVSGnPy8T51fw0JkpzzDOSdc7Wo0yDR5QOwKEaM0448T8yFYf2dZ7/s640/DSC_4101.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">And there it was, for our taking</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>In the next part, we meet Yadav Jee (the forest ranger), who deny us the permission to go to the fort, a cobra enters my bagpack, and we get the sweet reward of the trip.</b></i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Read <a href="http://swapnilnarendra.blogspot.in/2016/08/trip-to-kankwari-fort-3.html" target="_blank">Part 3 of this trip here</a>.</i></span><br />
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Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-45644278834593303772016-08-24T05:25:00.001+05:302020-06-18T11:57:58.216+05:30Trip to Kankwari Fort 1: Arrival in Tehla<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Kankwari Fort</b> is a small hill fort in the <b>Alwar</b> district.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheNvHmeDetJX5BUrVe8Q6umGPI0-ZGHmmE0f5Xy456SQ-6zFHAX_bdHznDG922eEf0Yugpx-xaFjNOXCjgClK_qZPqLdpU1jPv6ufDcbAan-UhopJPzjxdyhxkFR_k31M6azeqH_yagtc1/s1600/DSC_4215B.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheNvHmeDetJX5BUrVe8Q6umGPI0-ZGHmmE0f5Xy456SQ-6zFHAX_bdHznDG922eEf0Yugpx-xaFjNOXCjgClK_qZPqLdpU1jPv6ufDcbAan-UhopJPzjxdyhxkFR_k31M6azeqH_yagtc1/s640/DSC_4215B.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Situated in the core area of </span><b style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Sariska Tiger Reserve</b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">, this fort is located literally in the middle of nowhere. Not many people know about it and that is what makes it so beautiful.</span></div><div><span><a name='more'></a></span></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">In July 2016, I got a chance to visit the ancient Neelkanth Temple near a village called Tehla. After I returned, I was adding pictures to the Google Map when I noticed something. The map showed a road going from the temple to a fort named Kankwari. I instantly googled the fort and obsession took me over.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><i>The fort was built by the Rajput King <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jai_Singh_I">Sawai Jai Singh I</a> as a famine work. The year of the construction is not known, but it must have been sometimes between the years 1625 - 1650. After Aurangzeb fought his brothers over the Mughal throne, he briefly imprisoned his brother Dara Shikoh in this fort before transferring him to Delhi (where he was eventually executed).</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the next few days I gathered as much information I could on Kankwari Fort and put together a plan with a few friends to visit this place. With a group of 4 people, we decided to hike to this fort after reaching Tehla.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">On 14th August, our group started from Delhi around 5AM. I was accompanied by my friends <b>Sahaj</b>, <b>Abhay</b> and <b>Piyush</b>. We had a 4 people tent, sleeping bags, and rations to last a full day. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgny0iJaBtDZk1-ygbINxVuS_J2vzRE-lr_G_YZAVRhtXT6Wm-3J9k5ssf_i22_lSwxJZFLSE-Su0nSfenE_ba81fvPIk_8lrUgdBq3EQpq2TTcaaQNJ_e7vlnoHo4xN_reErEveXM5A1vW/s1600/PicMonkey+Image.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgny0iJaBtDZk1-ygbINxVuS_J2vzRE-lr_G_YZAVRhtXT6Wm-3J9k5ssf_i22_lSwxJZFLSE-Su0nSfenE_ba81fvPIk_8lrUgdBq3EQpq2TTcaaQNJ_e7vlnoHo4xN_reErEveXM5A1vW/s640/PicMonkey+Image.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">The Team: <b>Sahaj, Abhay, I, Piyush</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We stopped at Manesar for breakfast and then resumed our journey. But instead of taking the straight NH48 I proposed that we take a different road to enjoy the scenic route. The guys agreed and it turned out to be a good choice as there was almost no traffic.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>The road less travelled is often filled with gigantic potholes. Making it the road less travelled.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The marks of rainfall were all over and lush green fields welcomed us on both sides of the road. And then we reached a small village called Bibipur. I remember the name of this village because this was where the road ended. Instead of smooth open road, now we had giant potholes filled with rainwater. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">This is the Good Road</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We were in a Maruti Suzuki Swift that was used to be driven on the beautiful roads of Delhi. But somehow Sahaj managed to take us out of this mess and as we crossed Naya Gaaon (the village), the road was visible again. It took us around two more hours to reach Alwar. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Around 11 AM we entered the Sariska National Park and suddenly the whole view changed. The distant hills of Aravali suddenly came a lot closer and grew taller. We were driving inside the valley and the smooth road was a surprised.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;"><i>Welcome to Sariska Wildlife Sanctuary,<br />Where the life is simple and the view is pretty!</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">As we reached Tehla, we took a break to buy water and eat something. </span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">But before we could begin the hike, we realised there was a problem; our car needed a parking space for the night. Some local folk suggested that we park the car in the Police Station. Our hobnobbing and pandering didnt yield any result, but then we told them that one of us belonged to the family of a Police Officer from UP. And suddenly everything was sorted out. The car was safely parked, and we started on our hike.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We were falling back on our initial plan to hike to Kankwari, but according to the locals, the route we chose was closed. Google Map showed us a trail of 15 KMs from Tehla to Kankwari. We came to know that this route goes through the infamous Kaali Ghaati and was cut off due to heavy rainfall. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VpBd6UzgVl6SRHisuUFp_8KKCdqsajEvcJbU52F5GzzEpHiZLbxixC1OM0Wk4TXVT43P5RSpJtmoE7jzGTmZmmqY67IxOcHd4YXkwEz1y5qNfEw2LvRSHzQSRCQAK-KOSelxcoduqu2_/s1600/Hike.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VpBd6UzgVl6SRHisuUFp_8KKCdqsajEvcJbU52F5GzzEpHiZLbxixC1OM0Wk4TXVT43P5RSpJtmoE7jzGTmZmmqY67IxOcHd4YXkwEz1y5qNfEw2LvRSHzQSRCQAK-KOSelxcoduqu2_/s640/Hike.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">(L) Hike trail we planned, (R) Hike trail we took.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now we had only one route; to go to the famous Neelkanth Temple (that I visited last month with my family) and hike to Kankwari from there. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Kaali Ghaati route was 15 KMs in total from Tehla to Kankwari Fort. And this new route had added another 6-7 KMs to our route. We discussed it and decided to hike instead of hiring a jeep until Neelkanth Temple. The first thing we did was to buy loads of water that made our bags quite heavy. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOqbmPgW6enPI41aWN_NGjAZzrh8eMhr3DCxITT-Cu7LcylL3ags8eNSDlYU5oMin0G27Uek6OPY8akN6sslcD8PqyvZNBuuo9XlMUVWjzmTHtooCh_7WTO-PhuZUj1YC2HZF7Lvn1wmyn/s1600/DSC_3836-COLLAGE.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOqbmPgW6enPI41aWN_NGjAZzrh8eMhr3DCxITT-Cu7LcylL3ags8eNSDlYU5oMin0G27Uek6OPY8akN6sslcD8PqyvZNBuuo9XlMUVWjzmTHtooCh_7WTO-PhuZUj1YC2HZF7Lvn1wmyn/s640/DSC_3836-COLLAGE.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: small;">Scenes from Tehla </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiquxvzxOEBR2qljnrvrix6WetAUe6HkTkFPdmOFtGL_gMLRXmljpT14jVj6crWvVlrgMFowcEW8c-5wZWNUF4OIbUw6B_lpJsOgf-07RGcQbjhS0wFYJZO1kMyl1pJ5fyJN_qyv3QFzoYr/s1600/DSC_3830.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiquxvzxOEBR2qljnrvrix6WetAUe6HkTkFPdmOFtGL_gMLRXmljpT14jVj6crWvVlrgMFowcEW8c-5wZWNUF4OIbUw6B_lpJsOgf-07RGcQbjhS0wFYJZO1kMyl1pJ5fyJN_qyv3QFzoYr/s640/DSC_3830.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">The Tehla Fort (we left it unexplored)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Each of us was carrying 3 litres of Water. We had also brought a bottle of whiskey and vodka with us (for obvious reasons), and nobody thought of transferring the liquor into plastic bottles to reduce the weight of the glass bottles. </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">But we continued.</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">We begin our hike around 12:50. After walking through Tehla, we took a narrow road to the right and crossed a village or two until we started hearing a loud gurgling sound at a distance. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>In the next part, we meet the beautiful views and people, cross a raging river, loose our trail in darkness and almost give up on the hike</b>.</i></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Read <a href="http://swapnilnarendra.blogspot.in/2016/08/trip-to-kankwari-2-hike_25.html" target="_blank">Part 2 of this trip here</a>.</i></span></div>
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Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-55013113275647414852015-06-15T22:29:00.003+05:302020-06-18T12:04:35.742+05:30Shadow of the Colossus: The Bamiyaan Buddha<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Recently, the people of Bamiyan valley in Afghanistan saw something that they never imagined would be possible. On 14th June, a group of 3D Laser technicians projected the image of Bamiyan Buddha over the demolished cliff where it used to be. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: -webkit-standard; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrwLEXGkTm5yH5wueD0wpHleWP3LkL0NGBZm4GJHO0s61wZUZwdNK9-4D15XMQ3iY9OOVQ85KBjE9LPs5-kxhYKIT00qPsG5WEJpLQYJOfyEaSTWS_vDuW73rCwmyh6_ivXPLnHIqOFlM/s1600/Buddhas_of_Bamiyan_1885.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrwLEXGkTm5yH5wueD0wpHleWP3LkL0NGBZm4GJHO0s61wZUZwdNK9-4D15XMQ3iY9OOVQ85KBjE9LPs5-kxhYKIT00qPsG5WEJpLQYJOfyEaSTWS_vDuW73rCwmyh6_ivXPLnHIqOFlM/s1600/Buddhas_of_Bamiyan_1885.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Colossal Giants in 1832</span><br /><div><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a name='more'></a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddhas_of_Bamiyan" style="font-family: "\"helvetica neue\"", "\"arial\"", "\"helvetica\"", sans-serif;" target="_blank">Bamiyan Buddhas</a><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "\"helvetica neue\"", "\"arial\"", "\"helvetica\"", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "\"helvetica neue\"", "\"arial\"", "\"helvetica\"", sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">were two 6th-century</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "\"helvetica neue\"", "\"arial\"", "\"helvetica\"", sans-serif; line-height: 22px;"> monumental statues of standing </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "\"helvetica neue\"", "\"arial\"", "\"helvetica\"", sans-serif;">Buddhas</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "\"helvetica neue\"", "\"arial\"", "\"helvetica\"", sans-serif; line-height: 22px;"> carved into the side of a cliff in the </span><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "\"helvetica neue\"", "\"arial\"", "\"helvetica\"", sans-serif;">Bamiyan</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "\"helvetica neue\"", "\"arial\"", "\"helvetica\"", sans-serif; line-height: 22px;"> valley in Afghanistan. These statues held the world record of being the tallest statues of standing Buddha, until they were demolished by the Taliban in 2001. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">FLASHBACK.</span></h3>
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<b style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">YEAR 507 AD</span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">It has been over 2 centuries since the fall of the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kushan_Empire" style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;" target="_blank">Kushan Empire</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;"> in Afghanistan, and now it is ruled by the </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hephthalite_Empire" style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;" target="_blank">White Huns</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">. Islam is yet to invade this land and several communities of different ethnicities reside here. Buddhism however is the most prevalent of all the religions right now. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">Located on the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silk_Road" target="_blank">Silk Road</a>, Bamiyan is a much travelled route, with several caravans of traders and monks passing through. The White Huns and many monks living here decide to pay a tribute to their god with their grand offering -- A colossal idol of their Lord; Buddha.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">The first idol is carved in the year 507 AD, while an even bigger one is carved in the year 554 AD. And suddenly, this small valley becomes a pilgrimage for thousands of people traveling to pay their respects to Lord Buddha.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">In 629 AD, Chinese traveller <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xuanzang" target="_blank">Xuanzang</a> described Bamiyan as a bustling centre with tens of thousand of monks. <a href="http://judithweingarten.blogspot.in/2012/11/lady-sale-and-buddhas-of-bamiyan.html" target="_blank">Even an earlier Muslim visitor was impressed</a>;</span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 25px;"><i>"The people of India [i.e. non-Muslims] go on pilgrimages to these two idols, bearing with them offerings, incense and fragrant woods. If the eye should fall upon them from a distance, a man would be obliged to lower his eyes, overawed by them."</i></span></blockquote>
<h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 25px;"><br /></span></h3><h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 25px;">FAST FORWARD.</span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;"><b>YEAR 2001 AD</b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="http://media.vocativ.com/photos/2014/11/Blew-Up-Buddhas_03286890739.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="432" src="https://media.vocativ.com/photos/2014/11/Blew-Up-Buddhas_03286890739.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Giants in the back with the Bandits in the front.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">February.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">The Soviet Russia has fallen apart, and Taliban controls Afghanistan now. 9/11 is yet to happen in 7 months. According to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mohammed_Omar" target="_blank">Mullah Mohammad Omar</a>, a group of historians approached him, proposing a grant to repair the Idols that were vandalised by an Afghan king Abdul Rahman Khan. When Omar asks them to use the money for other causes like feeding the poor, the group refused and left. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">Mullah Omar declares that the idols would be demolished as a protest to the outside world who neglect Afghanistan's humanitarian causes. The whole world tries to convince Omar to not go ahead with this. Where Japan is ready to pay as much as money, and India proposes to buy the idols and transport them into New Delhi, many other countries come up with a solution. But Taliban is not listening.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">On March 2, 2001, Mullah Omar ordes the demolition of both idols. The idols are rigged with explosives, mines and fired upon by anti tank and aircraft guns. It took Taliban around a month to completely demolish the idols. As a Taliban leader stated;</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;">"</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;">This work of destruction is not as simple as people might think. You can't knock down the statues by shelling as both are carved into a cliff; they are firmly attached to the mountain.</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;">"</span></span></i></blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">Nevertheless, the idols are gone and now Afghanistan is a target of a global outcry. Now Omar changes his stance and tells the world that the idols were demolished because they were anti islamic;</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;">"Muslims should be proud of smashing idols. It has given praise to Allah that we have destroyed them. </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;">We are destroying the statues in accordance with Islamic law and it is purely a religious issue</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;">"</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;"> </span></span></i></blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/624/media/images/81577000/jpg/_81577467_buddhas_pair.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/624/media/images/81577000/jpg/_81577467_buddhas_pair.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Before and After.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">BACK TO THE PRESENT.</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>YEAR 2015 </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">JUNE 14</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">A Chinese couple Janson and Liyan Hu take permission from the Afghanistan Government and UNESCO to use the site for a light and sound show ONLY FOR ONE NIGHT.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The event is not publicised yet around 150 people are gathered at the Bamiyan valley. The evening grows darker and the imported 3D Laser projector starts. The empty cave that housed the giant Buddha once suddenly lights up and people see the Colossal Buddha in his full glory. The event goes on for about an hour and people celebrate right at the spot.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">THE SHADOW OF THE COLOSSUS.</span></h3>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">YEAR 2001</span></b> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">The dust from the explosion settled and the Talibans cheered with joy as the Buddhas were completely demolished. Their month long hard work had finally paid off. "Praise the all mighty Allah!" they all yelled in unison.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">But there was something odd about those empty caves that housed the Buddhas. What was it? Or, what were those things?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">Turned out, there were many hidden caves behind those idols inside the mountains. After counting, the number went over 50. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">Yes, over FIFTY ancient caves were discovered, thanks to that demolition. Explorers found beautiful wall paintings in those caves, dating back from 6th to 9th century. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;">It is believed that they are the oldest known surviving examples of </span>oil painting<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;">, predating oil painting in Europe by as much as six centuries.</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;"> The discovery may lead to a reassessment of works in ancient ruins in </span>Iran<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;">, China, Pakistan, </span>Turkey<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;"> and India.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">The Hidden Treasure</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">The giants were hiding an even more valuable treasure behind them.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;">In those caves, the explorers also found </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;">the translation of the beginning section of the original </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanskrit" style="background-image: none; line-height: 22px; text-decoration: none;" title="Sanskrit">Sanskrit</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prat%C4%ABtyasamutp%C4%81da" style="background-image: none; line-height: 22px; text-decoration: none;" title="Pratītyasamutpāda">Pratītyasamutpāda</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;"> Sutra translated by </span>Xuanzang<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22px;"> that spelled out the basic belief of Buddhism and said <b><i><u>all things are transient</u></i></b>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 22px;">As if the Colossuses knew their fate.</span></div>
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Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-34923183249923171512015-06-05T20:21:00.001+05:302020-06-18T11:59:46.183+05:30Rampur: A Faded Chapter in History<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: #666666;">Rampur is a hidden gem stowed quietly in the chaotic realms of Uttar Pradesh.</span></i> </span></blockquote>
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<span><font face="verdana">Being a history buff, Rampur had always been in my 'to go to' list, <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">and finally I saw a chance. Though the route to Lucknow didn’t necessarily goes through Rampur, in order to get there I 'informed' my friends that it would be a shortcut. </span></font></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(127, 127, 127); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span><span><font face="verdana"><a name='more'></a></font></span></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(127, 127, 127); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(127, 127, 127); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span><font face="verdana">It was a road trip to Lucknow with some friends when I was acting as the navigator in the car. This is when <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">something in the map (Google Maps) caught my attention. </span></font></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><font face="verdana">It turned out that we were quite close to Rampur. </font></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><font face="verdana">This detour cost us 3 more hours (and some choicest of abuses by my friends) along with a bumpy ride, but I dont have anything to complain.</font></span></div>
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<span><font face="verdana">We arrived Rampur in the afternoon and started navigating our way towards the famous Rampur Raza Library. </font></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i style="color: #666666;">Fun fact: Rampur is also called <b>Mustafabad</b>. It was the name given to it by its first Nawaab, but Rampur is the popular one. In the medieval period, it was a part of Delhi and was called <b>Kather</b>. But after the great war of 1774, the Nawaab of Oudh laid the first stone of the Rampur fort in 1775.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">The city is quite small like most of the small towns, but what surprised me was the cleanliness of the roads and how well maintained the public areas were. Another thing I noticed was the significant lack of Hindi on local signboards. English and Urdu were the prominent languages.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>"Hindi is the national language, sir!"</i> - <span style="color: #990000;">"Not here, kid!"</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the gates of the Rampur Fort. <br />Just another neglected chapter of a glorious history.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Navigating our way, by asking the locals we finally reached the Rampur Fort. Most of the fort has been turned into Government establishments but they have kept the Library open for the public. The library is a unique amalgamation of Indian, Persian and European architecture, and is one of its kind in India and perhaps the world.</span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://throughthelanes.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/the-glory.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://throughthelanes.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/the-glory.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Look at this magnificent piece of architectural beauty!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">One thing that I didn't understand was the prohibition of camera. I was asked to deposit my camera in a locker before going inside the library. However, inside they were cool with everyone taking pictures with their cellphones. I guess, they have a beef just with the high quality pictures of the interior.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">(I did take a few pictures using my phone, but it was too dark and the pictures were blurry and underexposed. I might put them here in the future.)</span></i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">But nagging aside, the library was a piece of art. It was astoundingly beautiful! </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">European style halls and galleries welcome you as you enter the building. Several Roman styled sculptures adored the walls leading to a big hall with a high ceiling. This hall has been turned into a small museum where a small collection of melee arms and platters are on display from the time of the Nawaabs.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">What disappointed me though was the lack of any reading material or any history of the Nawaab clan that ruled this town for centuries.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since we were on an unscheduled detour, I was reminded that we were on a tight schedule and so we drove off towards Lucknow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Cant wait to go there again!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNwJL0WKs1DpnKnpcykr7R2puZE0eZ4X0c5ZB2v1H9TyKQYMtTcYhDdAnjXNJxuuHUFfA5_71jEW8wUsfolNnDCYKLvqa-9e4l2mX4ZlDaYdTsDZSb-b0icO8Rw4knegVzLlobFgZ-0KGL/w471-h708-no/DSC_0547.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNwJL0WKs1DpnKnpcykr7R2puZE0eZ4X0c5ZB2v1H9TyKQYMtTcYhDdAnjXNJxuuHUFfA5_71jEW8wUsfolNnDCYKLvqa-9e4l2mX4ZlDaYdTsDZSb-b0icO8Rw4knegVzLlobFgZ-0KGL/w471-h708-no/DSC_0547.jpg" width="424" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif; font-size: large;">"I will be back." I said to this city.</span></i></td></tr>
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Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com0Rampur, Uttar Pradesh, India28.786918085420226 79.0274047851562528.675594085420226 78.866043285156252 28.898242085420225 79.188766285156248tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-35403573650529367882013-06-12T18:25:00.002+05:302020-06-18T12:00:27.152+05:30GURGAON or (GUR)GOBARGAON ??<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5u2BJtqI6icnueXhtR8XgFCq6NA2wEYg97EPs-ENy3BMieJypQ-ChPZA2k1ncnbw-RpIM1GCusyQ9XriR8p229vGsjrMpLpU0GXhI3lnsU9sM3VJi52pF7NY9yKvVOyP7P8v7V-QkpjXZ/s1600/GGN.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><font face="trebuchet"><img border="0" height="443" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5u2BJtqI6icnueXhtR8XgFCq6NA2wEYg97EPs-ENy3BMieJypQ-ChPZA2k1ncnbw-RpIM1GCusyQ9XriR8p229vGsjrMpLpU0GXhI3lnsU9sM3VJi52pF7NY9yKvVOyP7P8v7V-QkpjXZ/s640/GGN.jpg" width="640" /></font></a></div>
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<span>Gurgaon has been famous for its hospitality... NOT!</span></font></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span><a name='more'></a></span><font face="trebuchet"><span>As a frequent wanderer in this city, with my wife for a few years now, if there is one thing I have learned about this system forsaken concrete forest is this;</span><br />
<span><br />
"<i>You are never safe in this city.</i>"</span><br />
<span><br />
Remember, the <a href="http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2011-10-29/gurgaon/30336400_1_metallica-show-venue-gurgaon" target="_blank">Metallica Fiasco back in October 2011</a>? </span><br />
<span><br />
However, the unfortunate thing is that the majority of Delhi NCR's youth spends most of their daily hours here. Be it for work or leisure.</span><br />
<span><br />
I have had my fair share of bad experiences in this city and thus I will
prefer ANY restaurant/pub/store/market in proper Delhi over Gurgaon any
day. This town makes NOIDA look like a paradise. And I am talking about the same Noida where constant supply of electricity is still a privilege. </span><br />
<span><br />
This city has more Beer and Wine shops than drug stores. Many addresses in Gurgaon use their nearest '<i>Daaru Ka Theka</i>' as a landmark.</span><br />
<span><br />
Also, this is the only city in India, where the administration (instead of providing security for its women) ordered all the commercial institutions to close at 8PM. So that women should not be out in the city after dark. </span><br />
<b><span>TAKE THAT FEMINISM !</span></b><br />
<span><br />
<br />
<br />
Now for past couple of days, there has been a specific restaurant/pub from Gurgaon that has been in news for all the wrong reasons. Though, I had never reviewed or experienced the service of the said restaurant, I can assume how it might had been for all those poor patrons. I have been exposed to horrible service from many so called elegant restaurants of this city, but it was nothing compared to what these unfortunate kids went through.</span><br />
<span><br />
So here is the scoop; <b>Lemp Brewpub and Kitchen</b>, in Gurgaon is going viral these days on social media because of its bad food and worse (read: <b>life threatening</b>) service. I mean, where else could you expect you brunch to end at a police station, pleading to take any amount of money and just let you go?</span><br />
<span><br />
When I first saw the post shared by one of my friends on facebook, I thought of it as just another case of a meal went bad. But this link didnt stop from popping up all over my twitter and facebook by my various friends.</span><br />
<span><br />
So one day I decided to check it out, and to my surprise the said post (along with Blog) had been taken down. THERE WAS NOTHING TO READ.</span><br />
<span><br />
And so I wondered, howcome a viral link ends up being a blank page, saying, "Sorry, the page you were looking for in this blog does not exist.". The owners or anybody who made that post disappear, they should understand that by erasing that post, they just confirmed that everything mentioned there was TRUE! But this is how things work in India, we believe all the revolutions and oppositions can be squished with a heavy boot.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrLDUfdudX00f6Xkw2gR_fUds-YROyVL9GY9QHxYkWDMALnBxzErAizC_tVsyfmiZYCgdUiIKX-nQjsHq-Ihn-222wAn_O-zB3xvBrIPVpl5w-8bfmkV2drCZJ2GGb47rAEaJkKkFQYKw/s1600/Lemp.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span><font face="trebuchet"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrLDUfdudX00f6Xkw2gR_fUds-YROyVL9GY9QHxYkWDMALnBxzErAizC_tVsyfmiZYCgdUiIKX-nQjsHq-Ihn-222wAn_O-zB3xvBrIPVpl5w-8bfmkV2drCZJ2GGb47rAEaJkKkFQYKw/s640/Lemp.jpg" width="640" /></font></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span><font face="trebuchet">This is how that famous blog post looks like now!</font></span></td></tr>
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So after I was unable to read the post on the now empty blog (lempexperience.blogspot.in), I began sniffing around the internet. </span><br />
<span><br />
I went through all the reviews on Zomato and other websites, but again, that post was nowhere to be seen except for <a href="http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/lempbrew-pub-lempbrewpub-&-kitchen-gurgaon/1/279716.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
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Now what I dont understand is this, if you read the reviews at Zomato, after painstakingly scrolling down to the very early reviews, you will find some really good reviews of the place. Also, the author of the famous post mentioned having visited the restaurant before.</span><br />
<span><br />
My question is, what changed in that restaurant between those good reviews and that nightmarish blog post (that now has been erased) ?</span><br />
<span><br />
I would bet my money on 'Management'. Because all the earlier good reviews (even the bad and average ones) have been replied and signed by a name that didnt appear anywhere among so many others in the blog post. So I am guessing it was the then manager who was making this place a delight for its patrons. </span><br />
<span><br />
I dont know why the manager was changed (or if its just my theory), but this place has turned into a ill-reputed freak house since then. Every review since the changed signature of that manager has been getting worse.</span><br />
<span><br />
We also see the police involvement only because the owner of the restaurant knew how to throw his weight around. And its not the case just with this restaurant, its the whole city.</span><br />
<span><br />
And there is nothing, me or any other person who visits Gurgaon in search for a decent meal or experience can do about it. Nobody is ever safe in Gurgaon.</span><br />
<span><br />
People are complaining about this one restaurant now, while I have been whining about this whole city ever since I had started coming here. Call me a cynic or whatever suits your vocabulary, but I had never felt safe here. Especially when I witnessed the grand <a href="http://indiatoday.intoday.in/video/gurgaon-girl-molested-by-reveller/1/166768.html" target="_blank">New Year's Eve disaster</a> (2011) happening right in front of my eyes (my wife and her younger sister were with me then). </span><br />
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Imagine having a front row seat to this freak show with your wife and a young girl.</span><br />
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This city is a paradox in itself; a singularity that is being haunted by an uneven distribution of resources and power, brought upon by itself. This is a perfect example of a city where the rich keep getting richer, and the underprivileged go to any length to join the big clubs. </span><br />
<span><br />
And cities like these cant be salvaged.</span><br />
<b><span>Even Batman can never save Gotham!</span></b></font></div>
Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-91718047482596127132012-03-30T12:45:00.002+05:302020-06-18T12:00:41.986+05:30I OWE YOU.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRyZa2b43GLTzeSUAf0Eatjadr2PwVQ5k4ujIjSOwX6lMvidnlg33BC_ErOlTxWGmftCDmKI17olH2DnZoKP4us_s4-GBAewKJ77-RduIkfh1LP0HkxVnkzm6jfM2H2bHxOOQKd_HLhSO_/s1600/Sherlock+Fall.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRyZa2b43GLTzeSUAf0Eatjadr2PwVQ5k4ujIjSOwX6lMvidnlg33BC_ErOlTxWGmftCDmKI17olH2DnZoKP4us_s4-GBAewKJ77-RduIkfh1LP0HkxVnkzm6jfM2H2bHxOOQKd_HLhSO_/s640/Sherlock+Fall.png" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">I had this whole theory in my head for a long time but didnt have time or the courage to take some time out to publish it. But today, I finally decided to do so. So here is my theory on how Sherlock Holmes survived the fall.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a name='more'></a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;"><b>"I OWE YOU !"</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">The most basic clue which everyone seems to have forgotten/overlooked is Moriarty telling Sherlock that he '<b>owed</b>' him. Now what was it that he owed him?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;"><br />As we all know, Sherlock in spite of being praised did not like to be celebrated as an icon and that too especially by the tabloid media; and he certainly didnt like his pictures in the tabloids with that silly hat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">That was a life he never wanted and it was forced upon him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">But how did it all come to that??</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;"><br />The answer is, Jim Moriarty. Moriarty was the man who perpetrated all the crimes which brought Sherlock to his 'fame'. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">So what was it that Moriarty owed him, besides making him famous? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">Now with this <b>'I Owe You!'</b> thought in our mind, lets see how Sherlock's fall happened. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">Remember the scene when Sherlock meets Molly in the lab; what did Sherlock say to Molly? He said, <b><i>"Molly! I think I am going to die."</i></b><br /><br />How did Sherlock knew he was going to die? Did he know what was going to happen? My theory is; <b>YES!</b><br /><br />Sherlock knew how the whole game was going to be played and he knew what he needed. And that is why he asked Molly for her help.<br /><br />So Sherlock tells Molly that he is about to die and after that Dr. Watson is sent home after he receives a fake phone call informing him that Mrs Hudson has been shot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">Now as we all are aware of, <b>Sherlock and Dr. Watson were hiding in the hospital because they were running away from the police</b>. And when Dr. Watson reaches home, Mrs Watson informs him that she heard that Sherlock sorted all the things out with Police. <u><b>How did that happen?</b></u><br /><br />Now back in the hospital, as soon as Dr. Watson is gone, Sherlock receives a text from Moriarty that he is waiting. Sherlock goes to the rooftop and there he meets a bored Moriarty who was sick and tired of just <i><b>'staying'</b></i> alive.<br /><br />The conversation takes place and Holmes is now left with no other choice to jump when Moriarty suddenly takes out a gun and shoots himself. Sherlock stands on the rooftop and waits for Dr. Watson to come back. And as soon as he leaves his 'note' with Dr. Watson, Holmes bids farewell and takes the fall.<br /><br />Now Dr. Watson was placed in such a position by Holmes that he was not able to see Holmes hitting the curb. So technically, <b>Watson never saw Holmes hitting the ground. </b><br /><br />And now lets come to a few<b> technicalities of the fall.</b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">As we all saw, when he jumped from the rooftop, <b>Holmes was perpendicular to the building while falling.</b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVYTo6fIaIr4DOM-VbnLRC4P6G60t6FFpVO4DAbyDuRdjoI8DitovBxvAo3GyQU3qACv1RAkimAPINPEBkoYs95WndB_d043buwWXImkd8CAplFDu9qiAqBNS8bHpO8O1tVsoygNDpYIN/s1600/A.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVYTo6fIaIr4DOM-VbnLRC4P6G60t6FFpVO4DAbyDuRdjoI8DitovBxvAo3GyQU3qACv1RAkimAPINPEBkoYs95WndB_d043buwWXImkd8CAplFDu9qiAqBNS8bHpO8O1tVsoygNDpYIN/s400/A.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">GERONIMO! Holmes is perpendicular to the building during his fall.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">But when we see his body lying on the curb, we see that <b>Holmes is lying
parallel to the building and the garbage truck parked by the curb.</b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGoGPa7MgBZO5Aw66CucyqRKimsWa-eQ-aU1_WixYyqAec5TJgUoCvq-tw2ux_fg5IoR0geYdDd04mUixgg100F2u21VkrdVFpDL47atkImkleu83q3WD0eq4shA7MCxO9vGSMa6hk5Rm/s1600/B.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjGoGPa7MgBZO5Aw66CucyqRKimsWa-eQ-aU1_WixYyqAec5TJgUoCvq-tw2ux_fg5IoR0geYdDd04mUixgg100F2u21VkrdVFpDL47atkImkleu83q3WD0eq4shA7MCxO9vGSMa6hk5Rm/s400/B.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">So was it a SWITCHAROO or Holmes jumped into the garbage truck and then on the curb?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">How did he change his position in the air?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">Also, just before Watson's arrival to the spot, we see the garbage truck
driving away (which was parked there prior to Holmes fall). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;"><b>Now the Cyclist Angle; </b>Dr. Watson was fixed when he saw Sherlock jumping from the roof and came to his senses when the fall was finished. He then started running towards the curb and was hit by a cyclist. I believe we all speculate that this accident was pre-planned. But Sherlock didn't have time to plan this whole thing as he was busy running away from the Police (remember?). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">So who planned all this for him? Who paid the cyclist to hit Dr. Watson who was frantically running to check on his best friend?<br /><br />It could be Moriarty and maybe that's what he meant when he said, he owed him. It wasn't Sherlock but Moriarty who planned it all for him. Moriarty even says to Sherlock when he was standing on the ledge, <i><b>"I told you how it ends." </b></i> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">Because it was Moriarty who brought Sherlock to fame and so he owed Sherlock a life where he wasn't being chased by the media, a life which was most congenial to him; a quiet life. So I believe it was a game played between Sherlock and Moriarty with a mutual consent.<br /><br />But why did that cyclist hit Dr. Watson?<br />Remember, the 2nd episode of this season; 'The Hound of Baskervilles'?<br />In that episode, we were introduced to a drug which makes people hallucinate. Isn't it possible that the cyclist injected the same drug in Dr. Watson? Making it the 2nd time when the same drug was used on him.<br /><br />That is why when Dr. Watson went to check on Sherlock he was not able to detect if he was really alive or dead. Or maybe it had something to do with the rubber ball Sherlock was seen playing in the lab. I am not too sure about this whole angle. But there could be a lot of explanations on how Sherlock was declared dead.<br /><br />So coming back to the main theory, I believe that it was a pre-planned mutually agreed act, played both by Moriarty and Sherlock.<br /><br />And why do I seem to be the only one who is so concerned of <b>what happened to Moriarty's dead body on the roof?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;"><br />No newspaper covered that a man named <b>'Jim Moriarty'</b> or <b>'Rich Brook'</b> was also found dead on the rooftop of St. Bartholomew Hospital. Finding his body on the rooftop could have given the case a whole new angle, and<b> I WILL NOT BELIEVE</b> that Steven Moffat just forgot about Moriarty's dead body while writing the rest of the script.<br /><br />So what happened to his dead body? Did Moriarty fake his death too?<br />Remember, if Sherlock can do it, so can Moriarty. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">After all, he <b>'owed'</b> him!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;"><b>EDIT:</b> So after the Series 3, we all can say that the creators decided to skip over this whole theory thing. This proves;</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">1. either the writers were not able to come up with a believable explanation, or;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">2. after all the hoopla after this thing, they decided, "To hell with it." and followed the 'Lost Finale' fashion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">Whatever the case may be, now there is no official theory from the creators of the show about how Sherlock survived this fall. So please leave a comment, telling me what you think of my theory and do let me know if you have one of your own.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">And <a href="http://www.cartoonsidrew.com/2012/01/my-sherlock-ending-theory.html?showComment=1333089165886#c1196371999079126236" target="_blank">here is the second most accurate theory</a> I have seen on Sherlock's fall. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Title Image from </span><a href="http://godtiss.tumblr.com/post/16152100100/inspector-radio-and-my-heart-ached-he" style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;" target="_blank">Skip's blog</a><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">. I do not own this image or its right.</span></div>
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Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-91780747588362048942012-02-18T02:10:00.003+05:302020-06-18T12:00:59.939+05:30Medanta: Dedicated to Money<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHg-HD0VlHyTMQDf_2YP1vLcAeJYpP25vCfqN6V28bW8SE7xaArLOBcpJKla8fJiZLB3Z3qKgAciOXqo5ac1t5kMXdWseLzVFOGURq4OFENUm8O1nZyRHPW1Dx_OzUSvUihfSNfPwoLQV/s1600/Money-Health-Insurance-6072942.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHg-HD0VlHyTMQDf_2YP1vLcAeJYpP25vCfqN6V28bW8SE7xaArLOBcpJKla8fJiZLB3Z3qKgAciOXqo5ac1t5kMXdWseLzVFOGURq4OFENUm8O1nZyRHPW1Dx_OzUSvUihfSNfPwoLQV/s320/Money-Health-Insurance-6072942.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Till You've Got Money To Pay Us, WE CARE !</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">
I had heard a lot about this hospital in Gurgaon, called '<b>Medanta-The Medicity</b>'. Especially from my fiancé who seems to be a big fan of this hospital's founder and chairman Dr. Naresh Trehan. And so my image of Dr Trehan and his so called Medicity was of a pioneer and an institute dedicated towards better healthcare to Indians and whoever coming from any other country. But sadly, we had our moment of truth when my fiancé had to be admitted in this hospital for a minor surgery.</div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br />
My fiance was suffering from something called '<b>Sebaceous Syst</b>' and since her beloved Dr Trehan's hospital was in Gurgaon (where she works and resides) she instantly decided to go for it. However, we heard a few things (both good and bad) from a friend (who is being treated at Medanta for a long time) about how this hospital charges almost twice for all the services than any other medical institure in Delhi-NCR. But still we decided to go for it and at the reception, we were told that the whole process will cost us <b>35,000 INR</b> (for just one day). We paid for all the expenses (surgery+doc-fee+room expenses) in advanced around<b> 6:00 AM</b> while checking in and we opted for a twin sharing room which cost us <b>3500 INR</b> per day. The Doctor who was going to operate my fiance asked us to report at the hospital early in the morning because she wanted to operate her around <b>7AM</b> and so we were filling up the forms at the hospital at 6AM. However, after waiting for 3 hours in the 'Day Care' lobby, my fiance was called in for her surgery at <b>9AM</b> and the reason for the same told by a security guard (and my friend) was 'that all the doctors live in Delhi and so they dont come here before 8:30AM). However, the surgery ended around <b>12 AM</b> and the day care staff asked us to go to the admission desk and to check for the room where my fiancé was supposed to be shifted. The staff at the day care gave us a tip "<i>to keep poking the admission desk if we want to get a room, because this is how things work in this hospital</i>". And so started our wild goose chase for a room in the so called 'Medicity'.<br />
<br />
We reached the admission desk and asked for our room and the person behind the desk casually told us that he doesnt have a vacant room and that 'the scene doesnt look good either'. And it was, because all the rooms were occupied (<b>reminds you of some lodge, doesnt it?</b>) and that there is no vacant room in the staff's vicinity (now you should know that this so called Medicity is a <b>14 story building</b> + one more floor which is not accessible for the common people). We asked him when the room will be vacant so that the patient would be shifted to a room from a daycare and his answer was, "<i>I dont know!</i>".<br />
<br />
We came back to the daycare and saw that another family who had booked a single room (cost: <b>6000INR</b> per day) were moving their patient in the room because the surgery just finished. So we thought maybe, a single room is available. We went back to the admission desk and asked the guy to check for a single room. He told us that it will cost us extra and the 'Whole Package' will be changed and so he directed us towards the finance department. We went to the finance department and were told that if we will opt for a single room, all our expenses will go up. This included the room fee+meal plan+doctor visit fee along with the fee for the surgery which had already been done. I was amazed to know that the price for the surgery which had been performed over a patient would upgrade itself just because the patient will then be shifted to a single room. But hey! Its 'The Medicity' how can you complain?<br />
<br />
So we discussed it and thought of paying the rest of the <b>10,000 INR</b> but then we asked, "So we will get the room, right". But again, we got the answer, "<i>We will try our best!</i>"<br />
<br />
Now the thing is, my fiancé was still in the ward as I wrote this note and since that was a daycare facility, my freshly operated fiancé would not be able to stay there for the night. And since we are also availing medical insurance (of my finace), we need to stay here for at least 24 hours, but the hospital is blatantly saying that they dont have any vacant room and the things dont look good either.<br />
<br />
But I knew that they were not going to throw my fiance on the road and wont stop treating her. In fact around <b>7:00 PM</b>, she was shifted in a room (after me and my father-in-law kept poking the admission desk).</div>
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So finally we got the room somehow, but I have some questions;<br />
<br />
<b>1</b>. If they knew that they didnt have any vacant room and that 'things arent looking good' either, why did they charge us for the room in advance and didnt inform us about the situation then?<br />
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<b>2</b>. Isnt this hospital supposed to be one of the biggest (both in reputation and the number of beds) hospital in India, which is running out of beds on a patients who came here<b> AFTER </b>paying for their room?<br />
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<b>3</b>. Howcome the price of a procedure, which has been already performed can go higher just because the related person now wants to upgrade his/her room?<br />
<br />
If these are the things which I mentioned and noticed, I am sure there are many other issues which I didnt even touch or come to know about. As my friend said, "Medicity just knows how to charge you extra for nothing.", now I believe, she and her views about Dr. Trehan and his medical institute are right. Medanta has its tagline; 'Dedicated to Life' but all I could see was that it should be 'Dedicated to Money'.<br />
<br />
Also, now my fiance's (who is now my wife BTW) views have totally changed (and not in a good way) about his ex-beloved Dr. Trehan and his so called Medicity. After all, she wasnt given a room after her surgery; the room for which her hard earned money and insurance (later) paid for in advanced even before she was admitted.<br />
<br />
<b>HAIL DR. TREHAN AND HIS MEDICITY !!</b></div>
</div>
Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com2Gurgaon, Haryana, India28.4594965 77.026638328.3478185 76.8687098 28.5711745 77.1845668tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-73018701142726746432010-11-27T04:37:00.004+05:302020-06-24T16:29:02.857+05:30The Decision<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0K4rMVTW-WWT3Vd2hTlDxMPGba0lbfKV9HfyHg1l9wb79UF9kjYLJ2Unt5IsHYVbgLg9bTzrRdIt2ohLn70LVEqjGr-qQCkdCTYcR7QnJcA_Ejh7abrny-H9-Gl7rYueZmogwQDJx1Wkj/s1600/DSC_3561B.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0K4rMVTW-WWT3Vd2hTlDxMPGba0lbfKV9HfyHg1l9wb79UF9kjYLJ2Unt5IsHYVbgLg9bTzrRdIt2ohLn70LVEqjGr-qQCkdCTYcR7QnJcA_Ejh7abrny-H9-Gl7rYueZmogwQDJx1Wkj/s400/DSC_3561B.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The following story is based on an actual incident.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span><font face="georgia" size="5">I felt a little chilly on my legs, it was cold enough to wake me up.</font></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><font face="georgia" size="5"><br /></font></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span>I raised my sleepy head trying to open my eyes but was able to open only one. My left leg was out of the blanket. I tried to get it under the cover by throwing it inside the blanket. After I was done, I again tried to sleep when I looked at my wife's face. How beautiful and innocent she looks while she sleeps. I was awake now and looking at her sleepy face, didnt want to anymore. </span><br />
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<span>I was lost and was thinking if I should just keep staring or should go ahead and kiss her when suddenly I heard, “Go ahead, kiss her.”</span><br />
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<span>Quickly, I rolled myself on my back and was met with a shock.</span><br />
<span>Who wont after seeing a 7 year old kid in your bedroom in the middle of the night?</span><br />
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<span>“OH SHIT !!!”, I almost screamed and slipped inside the bed.</span><br />
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<span>My sudden outburst failed to get any reaction from him and he stood there calmly. He shifted his glances from me to my sleeping wife and said, “Relax! I am no stranger. You know who I am.” </span><br />
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<span>I seriously had no clue who he was and what he was talking about.</span><br />
<span>“You have always wanted to meet me and when I am here, you look like you are about to wet your bed.”, he said sarcastically.</span><br />
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<span>ZOOP! --He vanished from my side and re-appeared near the bed where my legs were. He looked at me from there and smiled, “You have always wished for this meeting, havent you? But now you dont recognize me. Its me! Death!”, He made a dramatical hand gesture while saying this. How much I hated that.</span><br />
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<span>That kid was right, I had always wanted to meet the death, but just a meeting and nothing else and especially not in my bedroom.</span><br />
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<span>In my childhood I heard a lot of stories where a few people accidentally bumped into death and it told them that there time hasn't come yet and they lived to tell the tale. Even I wanted to meet Death and to hear that the meeting was just an accident and to live. But believe me, I was about to piss in my underwear right now. Besides, I always pictured death like a beautiful woman with long silver hair and a glowing white skin with a charm that no living female on this planet can match. But a 7 year old kid, please! My head was filled with so many things now, what my grandma told me about death and the other stuff I read on internet about death but nothing seemed helpful at the time. </span><br />
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<span>Suddenly, I felt him coming a little bit closer to my legs and I shrunk myself under the blanket.</span><br />
<span>The first words that came out of my mouth were, “What do you want?”</span><br />
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<span>“I guess I have a bad news for you.”, he said like a doctor who was about to tell a patient that he is terminally ill.</span><br />
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<span>“I gathered all my courage and vocal chords together and said, “I am about to die.”. It came out more like a statement, but I wanted to ask a question. My tone failed me.</span><br />
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<span>He looked at me like I was a student who has given the right answer to his teacher's question. He stood up took a dramatic pause and said, “Oh you know, good. So shall we?”</span><br />
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<span>"I dont want to die, I have to do so many things.”, I pleaded. He threw his neck aside in exhaustion and sighed, “You dont understand. Its time and we have to go. So come on, be quick.”. He was clearly losing his patience.</span><br />
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<span>“Isnt there a way to avoid it? Please! There has to be something. Anything!”, I was bitching out.</span><br />
<span>He stared into my eyes and I felt like my heart and lungs were made of ice-cubes. With those cold eyes, he thought for a second and replied, </span><br />
<span>“You know what? There is a way. I think I can spare your soul but this involves a deal.”</span><br />
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<span>"Really?”, I dont remember if I was happy or terrified at the moment.</span><br />
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<span>“Yes! You can live, but since I wont be able to take your soul, YOU have to give me another one.”, he pointed his finger to my face while saying this.</span><br />
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<span>I was amazed at the responsibility and was in no mood to take it. “How can I give you a soul? You can take anyone you want, so why are you asking me?”, I tried to shrug it off my shoulders like I do with all the other responsibilities.</span><br />
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<span>He smirked and came a bit more closer, “Oh its not that simple. See, there are rules, which we all have to follow.”</span><br />
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<span>He settled down comfortably in the bed and continued, “This doesnt work this way. There is a system, a pattern for this process. All the things are related to each other. Like tonight, I am here to take your soul but you expressed a wish to make a deal here. So the replaced soul has to be chosen by you, because though it will spare your life but will effect you in a great manner.”</span><br />
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<span>I didnt understand a single word he said and he got me with my expression. He sighed again, “In short, the soul which I have to take instead of yours has to be connected to you in some way and the death of that person has to be your wish. So in a nutshell, 'You get to chose who is going to die in your place.'”. </span><br />
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<span>He finished this and looked at me like he expected a big 'Oh Yeah!' from me. I didnt react, how was I supposed to and it totally ticked him off. He disappeared and re-appeared by my wife's side and clapped his hands like he was in a real hurry. “Listen, I dont have time for this, I am on a very tight schedule so let me make this short and simple for you.”</span><br />
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<span>“... If you want to live, better give me somebody else to kill!"</span><br />
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<span>Still there was no reaction and I was staring at him. I realized that I was drooling with my open mouth. </span><br />
<span>But he seemed more dumbfounded than me by my reactions. And so he started again,</span><br />
<span>“Alright, let me make it easier for you. I am gonna make some suggestions. How about... your wife?”, he pointed towards my sleeping wife like he is pointing to a prize I am about to win and this was enough to kill my awe.</span><br />
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<span>“NO! NOT HER. NOT HER. PLEASE!”, I moved towards him trying to hold his hands.</span><br />
<span>ZOOP! --He disappeared again. “Hey, just maintain the distance, dont try to come close alright.”.</span><br />
<span>The voice came from my back. I turned around and saw him sitting over the cupboard now.</span><br />
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<span>“Listen, I cant give you my soul but please try to understand you cant have her either.”. I tried to make it up for my silence. The kid looked at me, and suggested again, “Alright, how about your enemies? I know there are a lot of people you dont like. Tell me the name of just one person and thats it. I will be gone.”</span><br />
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<span>I can swear on anything how hard I tried not to think of him. </span><br />
<span>A name did come in my head but I didnt speak it out. But the kid was looking at me like he was reading my mind.</span><br />
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<span>“Cmon! Just say it. I know you dont like him.”, I found him staring at me. </span><br />
<span>This kid was inside my head and I didnt like it a bit. But besides the fact how much I hated that person I just tought of, I didnt want to kill him. And so I stayed mum but that was the time when he lost it, </span><br />
<span>“I cant take you and I cant take your wife and you wont give me a name. FINE!” He bend forward to jump off the cupboard but vanished.</span><br />
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<span>The funny thing was, he was not that scary now to me like he was before. Right now, he was like a little kid throwing tantrums. ZOOP! He again appeared before my bed.</span><br />
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<span>“Thats it!”, he said. “You want to play it hard. I will show you what hard is.” he walked into a wall with all his anger.</span><br />
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<span>I was watching the wall like it was a TV. The room felt a little warm now and I felt a few drops of sweat on my whole body. My limbs were shaking and my eyes and mouth were wide open. I looked at my wife and she was still sleeping, no movement. I wanted to go the bathroom but the thought of going in the other room with the wall in which he walked, made me slip under the blanket and I dont remember when I fell asleep.</span><br />
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<span>“Wake up!” I hear my wife screaming. I got up like a dog who had his tail stepped over and looked at her. She had the phone in her hand and was constantly screaming. I did not understand a single word of what she was saying. Suddenly it all started making sense after she shook me. “Ashish had an accident. He is being hospitalized.”, she yelled.</span><br />
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<span>Ashish is one of my friends and fellow writer who lives by himself. His family lives in another state. We both dont go along very well but my wife thinks of him like her brother. That is why she was all worked up. He even had her listed as his emergency contact. And he was the guy I was thinking of when that kid asked me of one name.</span><br />
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<span>“Are you even listening, Ashish is serious. We have to go now.”, she was still screaming.</span><br />
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<span>But it didnt make any sense. He said, I HAVE TO say the name of the person if I want to live. But since I didnt give him any name, was he going to take my soul? Is this all a plan to get me out in the open and killed??</span><br />
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<span>My thoughts were jumbled by my wife, “Lets go. Wake up. His condition is serious.”, she was out of the bed and was dressing herself up to go. Suddenly I remember 'him' pointing towards her when she was sleeping and I yelled, “No, you stay at home. I will go.”</span><br />
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<span>She looked at me and said, “But I want to go and want to see him.”.</span><br />
<span>I said firmly, “Listen to me, you stay at home. I am going. I will let you know if you will be needed. So just stop.”.</span><br />
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<span>One good thing about my wife is that she doesnt contest my decisions. So when I asked her to stay at home she did. I got up and got dressed.</span><br />
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<span>I took my bike-keys and helmet, and went to the bedroom. There she was, looking at me with soaked eyes. She stood up and I hugged her with all my strength. I didnt want to go but I had to. After like a minute, I let her go and paced towards to the door. Left the apartment, reached the parking started my bike and in 15 minutes I was on the road.</span><br />
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<span>I was trying to focus on the road but was not able to. I was scared; what if that kid would do something to my wife in my absence? I was relying on the honor of the Death's words. He was after me and not anyone else, unless I make a choice. But how can I be so selfish to deliberately let someone else die just to save my life? Well it sounds pretty obvious but I am telling you, at that time, it felt both like a power and a burden.</span><br />
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<span>I was now on the highway and the images from the earlier moments of the night were still processing in my head. Suddenly I felt something on my right and there he was. He was grinning while cruising on the roof of a car. The car passed me and he was looking at me all the time with that creepy grin on his face. Suddenly he signalled me to look forwards and vanished. When I looked ahead, I realized I had jumped a red light and was in the middle of an intersection. Also, there was a man on the cycle trying to cross the road (my right to left, perpendicular to me). </span><br />
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<span>My bike was in inertia and the light for my left had turned green. The traffic started coming in from my right, and the man on the cycle was still trying to control his cycle just like me.</span><br />
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<span>It was a time to make a quick decision.</span><br />
<span>"If I stop now, the guy on the cycle would cross and the cars coming from the left would hit me. But if I keep going, the cycle-man has to stop and he will get his behind whacked by the cars coming behind him." I was thinking rapidly.</span><br />
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<span>There are moments in your life when right and wrong dont matter at all. These moments dont give you any time to think and decide, these are the moments when you have to make a decision in a split second. And what you do in those moments, decides the rest of your life.</span><br />
<span>THAT was my moment. I had to decide either to run and save myself, leaving that guy on the cycle on his fate or to do the 'right' thing and stop right there to get run over by the incomin traffic on my left.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>But none of these options gave me a guarantee of saving the either of the lives. So I made a quick calculation, based on my moral and rational thinking.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<b><i><span>"Better him than me! I am not ready to die."</span></i></b><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>I clutched the accelerator of my bike and leaned forward to race out of this mess, I didnt want to think about the fate of the man on the cycle. But it is impossible for a man to escape his guilt. And so I locked eyes with mine. My eyes met the eyes of that guy on the cycle and suddenly my right leg and hand automatically hit the brakes. My bike paused in the middle and I was still looking in the eyes of the cycle guy and he was looking in mine. Now, we both were about to get hit.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>And all of this happened in a split of seconds but that second, I tell you, felt like a frozen moment.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>I felt like someone lifted my bike from behind and I was flying in the air. The push was sudden and I was able to see my bike falling on the road and sliding. It was a truck that hit my bike's rear. I was flying towards my North-West.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>They say when you are about to die; either you whole life flashes in front of your eyes or you just see the things or people you love. Take my words, nothing like that happened. The only thing which flashed before my eyes were the massive blinding headlights of the truck that hit me. </span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Now, I am a person who calculates everything and is right most of the time, and believe it or not but at that time I was calculating where and when I was about to hit the ground.</span><br />
<span>And 'Voila', I was right with my calculations yet again.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>My right shoulder hit the road and then the right side of my head. The helmet took the toll and I saw and felt the pieces of it shattering on the road. I took a few descent rolls on the road and dragged for about 5 feet or so. During my final roll, back of my head hit the road and I was lying on my back. I could see the headlights of the same truck but my eyes wanted to shut and I didnt stop them.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Well, if you would say that I am telling you this story because 'obviously' I survived and people only tell their survival stories to others because they are alive. Well, I would say, "Stop being a smart ass!"</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>I was alive. But I was in no condition to move my body. I remember being dragged. Someone was holding me under my arms and was dragging me to the side of the road. “I am alive.”, I said to myself in amazement. </span><br />
<span>I really was amazed.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>The guy dragging me heard me and said, “Yes you are, but a man got hit by a car. His leg got trapped in his cycle wheel.”. </span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>“Is he ok?”, I asked with no expression or intention.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>“I dont think so.” he placed me on the pavement. "I will be back.” He said and ran towards the crowd.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>I was not able to see what the situation was because there was a crowd at the traffic signal and to be honest, I really didnt even care!</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>“Nice choice.”, I recognized the voice and it was enough to give me goosebumps even when I was immobilized. There he was, smiling at me. But this time I wasnt scared of him and was looking him right in the eyes. He was looking at me and we both were in a staring standoff.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Suddenly, the guy who dragged me came back, "That poor fellow on the cycle. He couldnt make it. You are lucky my friend. Praise the lord."</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>The kid was looking me at me but his eyes were not cold this time. </span><br />
<span>He gave me a final warm smile and vanished into the crowd. </span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>I placed my head back and closed my eyes.</span></font></div>
Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-79170520619187992052010-06-20T20:47:00.005+05:302020-06-18T12:05:25.107+05:30Keep Calm and Play On<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">I dont want to discourage anyone. I mean, I dont want to stop people from what they want to do with their lives or what they want to be. But somebody needs to say this.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Believe it or not, but I have a good taste in music.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span><a name='more'></a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">This specific rant is about some kids, who are let loose to publicly rape all the songs that most of us loved. These kids kill the music, pleasure and melody in all those lovely songs, and nobody says or do anything. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Anyone who is a regular at DT MEGAMALL, Gurgaon, would know that on the 3rd floor, they have their food court and DT Cinema. Now, on the same floor they have this stage where 2 young punks used to sing 90's english love songs on that stage. No one liked it, no one gave a shit, me included. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">But then, things change and suddenly there were 3 of them. DT Megamall was a frequent spot for me and my girlfriend to hang out. And so when we heard them for the first time, they were raping our all time fav song, 'Pehla Nasha Pehla Khumaar'. And it wasn't a sweet rendition where you would go "Awww !!", like looking at a bunch of puppies who suddenly start clinging onto your legs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Dont know about you, but we were not feeling great.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">We thought they would improve after sometime and so we let it go. But around a month passed, and they were still playing the vikings to the stage (the kind of vikings after they land into a city). Me and my girlfriend heard them murdering some more of our favourite songs. It was sacrilege. But I knew this day was coming.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Last night, we were there and we both were in a shock to see that they have recruited a girl. It was like a shitty rendition of '<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0110222/" target="_blank">Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa</a>'. That girl choke-slammed 2 of our favourite songs right there --</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"> 1.Jaiye Huzoor Aap Kahan Jayenge.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"> 2.Aajkal Paaon Zameen Per Nahi Padte Mere.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">And MAN !! My girl was pissed at</span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"> 'their' girl. I was laughing (in my heart) on her helplessness. But after that, one of those bastards started singing the rock version of 'Tum Mile', which is originally sung by 'Shafaqat Amanat Ali'. Maybe it was Karma for laughing at my girlfriend.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Now if you are one of those kids, and are reading this, I want to say something to you. I dont want to discourage you kids or to ask you to stop doing this... because definitely you are hip and cool in your group, but just because you can, doesnt mean you should. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">I mean me and my girlfriend stopped going there, and we left just because of those songs. My girlfriend started having migraines.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">So while leaving, I tried to give those kids a stink eye. You know to remember me or something like that. But as I tried to do that, I saw the eyes of the singing girl and I saw something that I would never forget -- there was a childlike joy, a pride and a feeling of accomplishment. And when I looked carefully at the rest of them, I was surprised to find all of them beaming with the same joy, pride and accomplishment</span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">These kids didnt care if a couple didnt like their music, or were leaving because of them, they were up there doing their thing, making themselves happy. It made me feel sad about my life at that time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">So if one of you nagging kids is still reading this article, YES! I dissed you, but I also ask you to keep doing it. Dont worry if people would not like your music and would not come to DT MEGAMALL's food court just because of you (dont worry, it wont happen, no one gives a shit about your music). Even if you will be playing to an empty food court, just play it for yourself, and not for anybody else.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">So you guys keep playing, but PLEASE at least learnt to sing in the first place.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">God bless you.</span><br />
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Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-57780522475759380622010-05-13T14:18:00.002+05:302020-06-18T12:02:11.798+05:30Con Your Parents to Let You Marry the Person You Like in 10 Simple Steps<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">"OH YEAH!"</span></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">Finding trouble in persuading your parents to let you marry the girl/guy you like? </span></b></div>
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<span><a name='more'></a></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, just follow these simple steps and make sure that the girl/guy you like also wants to get married to you and you will be married. It's really easy, you dont have to do any crying or throw tantrums. Just read the following tips and it will all works out like magic. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am telling you this thing works like a charm (TRUST ME).<br />
So here is what you have to do:<br /><br /><b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>1.</b> <b>NEVER LET YOUR PARENTS KNOW ABOUT THE GUY/GIRL YOU LIKE</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is the most important step. They must not know about the person you like and want to be with. So if you are past this step, please stop reading this. But if they still dont know who that lucky one is, just introduce that person as a friend (that they dont know). So basically, just dont let them know.</span>
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<b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>2.</b> <b>NEVER TALK ABOUT GETTING MARRIED</b> (THE SETUP)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just wait till your parents start throwing hints at you that they want you to get hitched and they start showing you around to someone's daughters/sons. Also, just act like you have got no interest in the institution of marriage whatsoever. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">You know, "Whatevs!" that kind of attitude.</span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />
<b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>3.</b> <b>THE MOST IMPORTANT STEP </b>(THE BUILD UP)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">(WHAT? I SAID #1 WAS MOST IMPORTANT? NO I DID NOT!)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">So for this step, start acting as if you are...ummm (how should I put it gently?) <b>GAY</b>. </span></span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">Yes, stop showing interest in opposite sex and start taking interest in your same sex. Start throwing subtle hints, like praising the body of a same sex friend or actor. Neighbour's kids were never so handy. That's right, now you know where this whole things is going, don't you?</span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
<b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>4.</b> <b>COME OUT </b>(DISTRACTION)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tell your parents that <i>you dont 'feel that way' for opposite sex</i> and so you dont want to marry someone. They might freak out, also might get your brain checked, or shipped you to a <u>Baba Ramdev's 'Yoga Away the Gay' Camp</u>, but you become a really nice kid and try to keep them happy with every other thing you can.</span>
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<b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>5.</b> <b>TIME TO PLANT THE THE CONFIDENT </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Congratulations! You are half way through now. So after showing interest in same sex people, now introduce the girl/guy you want to marry, and tell your parents that he/she is<b> 'just a friend'</b>. Remember, you still have to fake that homosexual thing. But now I can guarantee that your parents will like the guy/girl you want.</span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />
<b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>6.</b> <b>AND YOU ARE STRAIGHT AGAIN </b></span></span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">(THE CONVINCER)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now since your 'friend' is in the picture, start acting as if your 'gayness' is suddenly evaporating. Parents would eat that like a puppy eating treat out of a 10 years old. But remember, be subtle. Also, if they try to show you pictures of random prospects, go back to step #3. Some parents take more than normal time to understand.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">And after some more time, start showing your parents that your </span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">'friend'</span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"> makes you happy and you also like him/her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>IMPORTANT:</b> Make sure that your so called 'friend' is already showing that he/she likes you. Hints are important.</span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><b><br /><br />
</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>7.</b> <b>THE FRIEND MAKES THEIR MOVE</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now its time for your girlfriend/boyfriend to play their part. Now they have to persuade their parents to ask your parents if you both can be get married.</span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />
<b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>8.</b> <b>THE PARENT APPROACH</b> (THE HURRAH)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Your parents will ask you all by themselves, if you want to marry your 'friend or colleague'? And if they wont, your 'friend' needs to be more convincing. And so once your parents ask you if you'd like to be hitched with your friend, t</span></span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: small;">ell them that you need sometime to think.</span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"></span><br />
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<b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>9.</b> <b>BAM, WEDDING !</b> (THE STING)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">Finally give up to your same sex love feelings and obey what your parents are asking you to do.</span> Which obviously means saying yes to marrying your friend.<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />
<b><br /></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>10.</b> Congratulations! You are done. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: small;">And you are welcome.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>DISCLAIMER:</b> WE DO NOT GUARANTEE THIS METHOD WILL WORK, AND SO ANY REPERCUSSION, GRIEVANCE OR INJURY WHILE ESCAPING HONOUR KILLING CANNOT AND WILL NOT BE LINKED TO US OR THIS SITE. YES, THE METHOD IS OURS, BUT EVEN WE HAVE NOT TRIED IT. OUR PARENTS WERE SENSIBLE ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND THAT WE WOULD LIKE TO MARRY THE PERSON OF OUR CHOICE. NOT ALL PARENTS ARE COOL AND YOU SHOULD UNDERSTAND THAT. AND BEFORE SAYING OR DOING ANYTHING BAD TO YOUR PARENTS, REMEMBER, ONE DAY EVEN YOU WILL BECOME A PARENT, YOU UNGRATEFUL OFFSPRING ! </span></div>
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Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-28493802861641078622010-04-21T13:54:00.006+05:302020-06-18T12:02:42.959+05:30How To Be A Writer ?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Write the most magnificent screenplay the world will ever see.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Hi, my name is Swapnil Narendra and since you are reading a post written by me, on my blog I guess it answers your burning question, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">"What qualifies this guy to give advice to aspiring writers?"</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><a name='more'></a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">So with that doubt out of the way, lets get back to the topic here. Trust me, this method has helped many aspiring writers (including myself), and now I am sharing this promiscuous pearl of wisdom with you for no price or reward. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">At least say "Thank You!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">So without wasting anymore time, let me tell you what you should do to become a writer:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 1: ASK YOURSELF</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Ask the following questions to yourself.</span></div>
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<i style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">"Is there anything else I can do?"</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><i>"Can I live with myself if I do not become a writer?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><i>"Will the taunts/demeaning comments of your family and friends make you feel horrible ?"</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">If, the answer to any of the questions asked above is ''Yes,'' then abandon ship and get a real job. Writing is not for you. A writer must have a thick skin like a cockroach. And a dignity of a goldfish. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">But if the answer to all is ''No'', proceed to Step #2.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 2: BREAK THE NEWS</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Tell your family and friends about your decision and they will ask you to get your head examined. Dont worry and go ahead. And if you are diagnosed with an OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVE with MASOCHISTIC TENDENCIES (which in English means that you are a psychopath or a really crazy person), that's a good sign. You should be happy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 3: READ, READ, READ, READ, AND READ</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Read any and as many books as you can on writing. Done? Good!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Now forget 99 percent of</span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"> what you have read. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 4: PICK YOUR FIRST TOPIC TO WRITE</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Pick any three subjects that are really close to your heart and, under the tutelage of someone who knows how to write, write scripts on them. Give your everything in those scripts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 5: ---</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Done with those scripts? Good! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Now throw those scripts away; they're terrible. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">But at least now you know the format and structure of scripts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 6: BACK TO THE DOCTOR</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Keep checking with your doctor again and again, and get a prescription for your hallucinations and depression. And if you are sure that you dont hallucinate, wait. Soon you will, those visions and sounds are just around the corner. Waiting!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 7: WRITE AGAIN</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Now write 3 scripts about the 3 more things that are most important to you. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Make sure you put your heart, blood, and sweat into those scripts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 8: --- (Part 2)</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Whew! Good thing you got those subjects out of your system! Now throw those scripts out, they are also terrible.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 9: WRITE AGAIN, AGAIN</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Now write another script, this time focusing not on what you want to say but on what will entertain, emotionally move and take an audience to a new world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 10: START SPAMMING</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Send out 50 letters of inquiry to publication or production houses. You will never hear from 40 of the publication or production houses. Five of them will return your letter unread, saying that for legal reasons they do not accept unsolicited inquiries. Three will write back and thank you for your inquiry but say they are not looking for any scripts at the moment. Two will ask you to send your script.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 11: STOP SPAMMING</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Send your script to the two companies and spend the time waiting for a response rehearsing your acceptance speech for the Award® for Best Script/Novel/Screenplay etc.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 12: HEARTBREAK AND DISAPPOINTMENT</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">One of the companies will write back and tell you your script has great potential and that they will be happy to rewrite it for you for INR5,000. You will never hear from the other company, but at least NOW YOU ARE IN SHOW BUSINESS!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 13: TIME MANAGEMENT</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Try to limit the amount of time you spend sitting alone in the bathroom banging your head against the wall to three days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 14: REGIME</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Try some interesting new combinations of drugs and alcohol to see if that helps you become more creative or maybe fall in love with a girl (even a guy would do) who definitely would not love you back so that you can get all dull and creative (remember the movie 'Rockstar' starring Ranbir Kapoor?).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 15: REGRET</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Well, the previous step didn't make you any more creative, did it?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 16: WRITER AGAIN, AGAIN, AGAIN</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Find someone with an interesting story to tell, and write a story based upon his/her story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 17: REVISION</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">See steps 10 through 13.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 18: EXPLORE OTHER OPTIONS</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Start writing a suicide note but halfway through the note, you suddenly get an idea for a story about a person who is obsessed with writing suicide letters or maybe wants to adapt it as a profession.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 19: LAMENTATION</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">See a lot of movies (and tv series) and read stories/novels to remind yourself why you wanted to become a writer in the first place. Only now you can't enjoy any of the movie or tv series, because you spend the whole time thinking about how the screenplay for the film would look on paper, and after the film is over, you realise you could never write anything as good as that. (Alternately, you could realise that the movie was terrible, and you can't figure out why anyone bought that piece of crap when you can't even get your phone calls returned.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 20: YOU LYING SON OF A GUN</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">With the money you have saved from your day-job start seeing a therapist (I knew you didn't give up your day job, YOU LIAR!). The therapist will try to convince you that it is/you are crazy to keep pursuing a career in writing. If you agree with the therapist, give up on your dream.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">If, however, you think the therapist is a boring son of a bitch who is just jealous that you are doing what you really want to do and is secretly being paid by your parents to crush your dream and is probably writing a screenplay himself anyway, and that, no matter what anybody says, you are not going to give up that dream, then you are ready to become a writer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><b>STEP 21: WRITE AGAIN, AGAIN, AGAIN, AGAIN</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Tear open your heart and write the script you find there! (Of course, you won't sell it, but who cares ?)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">During all these steps, never stop writing. You must writer something or the other every day. And remember,</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">"</span><b style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">A failed writer is not a terrible writer, but the one who gives up!"</b></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">So this concludes this tutorial and now you are ready to be a writer. But dont worry if you still find yourself living on your parent's/sibling's/spouse's money and with no writing gig.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">YOU ARE A WRITER NOW AND SO YOU KICK ASS !!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;">Now go out and shine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: xx-small;"><b>***DISCLAIMER:</b> THE ABOVE MENTIONED STEPS ARE TO BE FOLLOWED UNDER YOUR OWN RISK AND TRIAL CONDITIONS. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace; font-size: xx-small;">THE WRITER OR THE PUBLISHER WILL NOT (AND CANNOT) BE HOLD RESPONSIBLE.</span></div>
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Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-84652410425818714762009-10-31T19:23:00.007+05:302020-06-24T16:26:50.061+05:30My School & College Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvebtjqdSp05tTW7kwrdadGCF8VTmX0fzZLOEZSjOyFCTgvKo8f0xlURuwFLj4ilXaJvGVuPzzOCIMlcgpOtcKDUoJnJPFDgmQM8BbG8mi6__alziyVEMV28VzXB5na0AfwYY6I5AnbOAu/s1600/Khurja+Cropped2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><font face="verdana"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvebtjqdSp05tTW7kwrdadGCF8VTmX0fzZLOEZSjOyFCTgvKo8f0xlURuwFLj4ilXaJvGVuPzzOCIMlcgpOtcKDUoJnJPFDgmQM8BbG8mi6__alziyVEMV28VzXB5na0AfwYY6I5AnbOAu/s640/Khurja+Cropped2.jpg" width="640" /></font></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font face="verdana">The Glorious Town of Khurja</font></td></tr>
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<span><font face="verdana"><br /></font></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><font face="georgia" size="5"><br /></font></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><font face="georgia" size="5">You probably don’t know about this, but in the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh there is a small town named ‘<b>KHURJA</b>’. People who hail from that town never get tired of saying that Khurja is world famous; but the best part is that only they know what it is famous for. So, if you are not from Khurja and don’t know why Khurja is world famous, you don’t have to worry about that (Who gives a shit anyway, right?).</font></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><font face="georgia" size="5"><span><a name='more'></a></span><span>But that town means a lot to me, because its the town where I am from (spending the first 19 years of my life there). Though I don’t care what it’s famous for but I love it anyway, it’s in my blood (and it shows).<br /><br />Now, Khurja has so many schools but it has only one real college. People say that it’s enough for a small town like Khurja, but I say then <b>why not just one school or just one shop for all the commodities or just one doctor?</b><br /><br />When I ask these kinds of questions, people tell me that I am not making any sense and that I am an idiot. Well maybe I am an idiot, but at least tell me WHY ITS NOT making any sense to you. I deserve to know.<br /><br />When I was a little kid I used to watch my big-brother going to school and that made me want to go to school too. But little I knew that when my day will come, I will be screaming and running back home like a little bitch. </span><br />
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<span>And one day I was thrown into a dark and damp section of that school, filled with other crying little bitches like me. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCWnm2U2UN3LOZAKlkla5k1Byg35mm1_v_imEeWq6DxxJncum7oLWSpgtEg-ik1DFmIN5foxZdl8IVNFNbAEVUbIRLmfGNugRs4T6yevDUxI_d9TVFw5bWFZhDEH3eKxCoMe0X_20XkXp/s1600/KP+Kids+to+School.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><font face="georgia" size="5"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCWnm2U2UN3LOZAKlkla5k1Byg35mm1_v_imEeWq6DxxJncum7oLWSpgtEg-ik1DFmIN5foxZdl8IVNFNbAEVUbIRLmfGNugRs4T6yevDUxI_d9TVFw5bWFZhDEH3eKxCoMe0X_20XkXp/s320/KP+Kids+to+School.jpg" width="320" /></font></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font face="georgia">Kids being taken to KP Montessori School</font></td></tr>
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<span>This school was called ‘K.P. Montessori School’ and all of the kids in that school were entitled for a beating whenever the teachers would feel right. Especially us, the Prep Class. We used to get beaten up by our class teacher Miss Kshama (मिस क्षमा); <b>IRONY IS A BITCH, ISNT IT? </b></span><br />
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<span><br />And all that beating scarred me for life so much that I never wanted to go to school. I especially thank my <b>3rd grade class-teacher Deepak Sharma</b> and his tight slaps for the fact that <b>I am almost deaf from my right ear</b> (this is real, no fake story) and also my <b>11th-12th class teacher Bhuvanesh Gupta</b> to make sure that all the kids in his class would know how the prisoners of The Cellular Jail would feel when they were beaten up in an open courtyard.<br /><br />I was disappointed to know that students in this town can be beaten up by teachers/professors at any stage of their academic life. I somehow crawled through my high school life but the junior college (10+2) was the time when the things got really ugly.<br /><br />As said earlier, the experience of beating in my junior college was the same as the inmates getting beaten in the Cellular Jail. We used to get beaten up in the assembly ground. I will describe the beating process in some other article (it needs a totally dedicated article and I am sure you will like it). So, two things which scared the shit out of me were the beating and some BAD things that happened to some boys in NCC (the "<u><i>kind of things</i></u>" which happen in prison, wink-wink!).<br /><br />Well, this whole thing was going and one day, I was in college! And the funny thing was that my junior college and college were on the opposite sides of the same road and both of their main gates were merely 20ft. away from each other. So it didn’t feel like I am going to some other place. I mean I was 'literally on the same street and in the same place. Totally like, ‘<i><b>Same Shit, Different People</b></i>’!<br /><br />I used to hear a lot from my dad and other old-timers about how great and excellent this college was in their days, but, I was again in for a shock. </span><span><b>THAT COLLEGE TOTALLY SUCKED (AND STILL DOES)!!!</b></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrfnwP6BSOvi8f8_u9eAIufOlyLd2Lxxwe8S3o7JGexCqZ3FdIb7aBHyRIRZWfBNr6vUTlxPhi-BHNvZlAWRXnBTA-JgAln4QHj6_P4Vp6l3yR4deRQcseCnBM3szluUy1fOxD6epR8kWo/s1600/NREC+Lib+++Hindi+Dept.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><font face="georgia" size="5"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrfnwP6BSOvi8f8_u9eAIufOlyLd2Lxxwe8S3o7JGexCqZ3FdIb7aBHyRIRZWfBNr6vUTlxPhi-BHNvZlAWRXnBTA-JgAln4QHj6_P4Vp6l3yR4deRQcseCnBM3szluUy1fOxD6epR8kWo/s320/NREC+Lib+++Hindi+Dept.jpg" width="320" /></font></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><font face="georgia">This college looks more like a museum</font><font face="georgia" size="5">.</font></td></tr>
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<b>There were no professors in the classes, the furniture of that college has been the same since it was installed.</b>
Imagine yourself sitting in a class where the furniture is from the
1930’s and is in the shape of probably the same guy who built it. Even
the books in the library were also the same which my dad and his friends
read. <br />
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One thing that I can tell you about the facility (the building) is that it’s so antique that it needs preservation efforts because its on the brim of extinction (literally, you should see that place).<br /><br />Now, <u><b>ABOUT THE PROFESSORS</b></u>; that college is the reason why I HATE professors. What most of them used to do was just sit together and bitch about each other behind their backs. From one of my reliable sources among the professors I came to know that in one ‘<b>Professors Only Party</b>’ two of the senior professors were discussing how there were not enough hot chiks in the college and how the current girls with no hot qualities were making the college look miserable. Now the only professors who were sincere and cared about the student were limited to the count of 3. Also, you should keep in mind that studying in that college didnt mean that any professor wont beat you up (yes they will).<br /><br />The most interesting thing of that college for me was ‘The Lab Practical’. To give you an idea about how the practical used to be in that college, I will give you a personal experience from my final year of the college. <br />
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The practical in the corresponding subject carries <b>30 marks</b> (out of a total of 130). Now I had 2 practical subjects, 1.Physics and 2.Chemistry... <b>AND MAN I SUCK AT CHEMISTRY!!!</b> I suck so much that the only chemical equation I know correctly is <b>H2+O=H2O</b>.<br /><br />So I had this chemistry practical exam and had no idea what I would do in there. After some time-wasting (putting something on fire and then putting the same thing off fire), they called me in for <b>‘Viva-Voce’ </b>(which was the key for the marks). <br />
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When I went in there was this guest examiner sitting with the H.O.D. of the Chemistry Department (who was my Dad’s buddy). I was preparing myself to explain why I didn’t know the answers of any of the questions asked and the first and the only question that guest examiner asked me was, <br />
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- <b>“What does your Dad do?”</b><br />
- “He is a Lawyer.”, I said.<br /><br />And that was it, I was done with my Viva-Voce. I was moving out of the room and I saw my Dad’s buddy (the HOD) whispering something into the Lab Assistant's ear. The lab-assistant followed me and when I reached my station, he asked me to show him my record sheet (which was blank BTW). He then said, “<b><i>Write anything in your record sheet. Anything, just don’t leave it blank. Got it?</i></b>”<br /><br />He left and I still had no idea about what to write in my record sheet. But I filled with something and I got 29/30 in that practical.<br /><br />I should have been happy for those marks but I knew some of my class mates who didn’t have anyone who knew the professors and so they were not so lucky with the marks in the practicals. Want to know how much they got? The most brilliant one of them got 19/30.<br /><br />And a jerk (who sucks in Chemistry more than me) from my class who had this rich dad who knew everyone in the town got 28/30. He is still a jerk but his practical marks are as rich as his dad's bank account. But all of my (good-student) classmate-friends covered that difference in the exams and scored way better than that jerk (and me of course). But now I ask you,"<b>Is it a good system where you are marked on how well someone represented you?</b>".<br /><br />And the best part about that college is, things are still the same as they were in my days or my dad's. Now would please answer my question which I asked in the beginning of this article;<br />
“<b>Why don’t we need other college in this town?</b>”<br /><br /><i>But I still make no sense to anyone and I believe I never will!</i><br /><br /><br /><br /><i><b>P.S.: </b>Want to know, what did I write in my record sheet of that Chemistry Practical ?</i><i><b><span> -</span>- </b>My <a href="http://tinyurl.com/myveryfirstmoviescene" target="_blank">very first movie scene</a>.</i></font><br />
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Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3594232123568967085.post-13569903382993640522009-06-17T23:38:00.004+05:302020-06-24T16:24:11.416+05:30Titles & Designations<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ67vhbn_zg0YSC-E4KvqWrcUbEJHCaQTRU7Ce4vkiECjaFzpVrD6wD9aa6kAUM2mgGTPt2XvdkzuTZhu8OMiggbGs6yXVKLA9_DVLfnUtPcSlIhmgX1-tX5Tfm1FJvDmykAVbdWd9qGOY/s1600/doctors+and+engineers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="624" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ67vhbn_zg0YSC-E4KvqWrcUbEJHCaQTRU7Ce4vkiECjaFzpVrD6wD9aa6kAUM2mgGTPt2XvdkzuTZhu8OMiggbGs6yXVKLA9_DVLfnUtPcSlIhmgX1-tX5Tfm1FJvDmykAVbdWd9qGOY/s640/doctors+and+engineers.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "courier new", courier, monospace;"><br /></span><font face="georgia" size="5">I have always observed that many youngsters are using some new salutations or titles before their names on social networking sites. These salutations consist (but not limited to) of; Er (Engineer), DJ (is that even a title), Dgr (Designer) and some more.<br />At first I was totally confused, because to me ER always meant Emergency Room and so seeing a name beginning with ER made me wondered what it could be until I figured out that the person was an Engineering Student. Also, 'Der' had me gone totally bonkers unless some wise guys on the internet told me that they were fashion designers.<br /> <br /> Honestly, I dont blame these kids. Our society tends to treat people with a title or designation with more respect. Even if that title doesnt mean anything. But again, being an engineer is not the big of a deal in my opinion.<br /> <br /> And maybe, that was one of the reasons why these poor kids are so desperate to tell the world that they are studying engineering. All the doctors get to add 'Dr' before their name, so why not Engineers?<br /> <br /> But its not just these kids, its a very old trick played by our society to manipulate the masses.<br /> These kids think they are doing something new, but sadly it has been an age old tradition to add a useless title before somebody's name, only to make them feel that they actually matter.<br /> <br /> The funny thing is, they even use a fancy term for 'Title' now. The corporate world came up with this hokum. This new thing is called DESIGNATION. And most of us are ready to do anything to get that useless title to be added with our name. It doesnt matter what work you do, unless you can have a fancy designation to add with your name. <br /> <br /> "My husband is a network engineer." <br /> It means the mentioned chap is a technician who looks after somebody's network configuration. <br /> <br /> -- "I am a Sr TSO (Senior Tech Support Officer)."<br /> -- "I just cleared the IJP for a SME." (Internal Job Posting -- Subject Matter Expert)<br /> -- "He promised he will get me into T2." (Tier 2)<br /> <br /> These are some examples how some ordinary jobs (especially in BPOs) being glorified by fancy designations. You would be surprised to know that these so called designations dont increase your payscale. There is a different classification system for that.<br /> <br /> Its with almost every company nowadays. People are promised average money and a fancy title. That is how our society has molded us. A person's title is more important than the work they do. And we all are working to get that desired designation. <br /> <br /> Its just like those fancy number plates on many Indian cars, where the owners/drivers want to show that their vehicle belongs to somebody of importance. However, in reality, nobody cares.</font></div>
Swapnil N.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14150306954466698524noreply@blogger.com1