F.R.I.E.N.D.S Online

If you think that this has anything to do with any link/URL from where you can freely download FRIENDS episodes, then I think I just was successful in tricking ya into getting some interest in my post. *Things ppl do to get noticed*

I have started to patronise this series in POGO called 'Noah and Saskia' ['You got mail' for aussie/brit preteens and teens] about two 14yr olds who have a internet based 'friendship' across the oceans and hemispheres which as any intelligent viewer would know will get complicated into 'something more deeper' by the season finale. Although the latter deeping part is the stuff that sells cheap, trashy books and movies, I am here to talk about the first part- making friends with some person online.

FACTS:
1]You've never seen the person
Ok so some ppl may argue with two basic points; You can always share photos if it comes to that and Looks are not important in a friendship. Fair Enough. Anything in this world can be twisted out of its inherent goodness. I could send a photo of Bips and say its me to some guy from Poland. As for looks not being important, the first judgement you make of a person, initial impression has to do with the physical aspect only [unless you had your third eye activated after intensive tantric and yogic pratices in the outer reaches of the Himalayas]. So in this scenario, You are taking a shot in the dark while committing to something as sacred as friendship and the implicit trust and dependance that comes with it.

2]You scratch the surface of the lies to find more lies, exaggerations, stretches and some truth
Why do we not present a proper picture of ourselves when we are sure the person can't know the reality? two-fold mainly- one is that if we reveal to them the truth about themselves, we make ourselves vulnerable and instinct screams against it; and the next is the more common factor- we are not happy with what we are and will employ some stretches of half-truths or plainly resort to lies and project ourselves as those we might consider ideal or perfect.
There is always that 3rd possibility, I will explain briefly as the next heading

3]The ol friend(s) could be creeps, pervs and in general anti-social elements
Not something I need to dwell upon, all will know of the horror stories associated with this. All they do is lie. Their intention is to harm. They will be the most perfect ol friends and earn your trust before they utterly ruin a life cheerfully.

4] You are too shy/ have problems making regular friends
So ol friends become the escape route? Nothing can replace a flesh-and-blood tangible friend in real-life. More well-adjusted people swear on this. This factor might lead to a normal, if a little shy, person turning into the creatures discussed in #3.

PROS
Opens up your mind
With the global boundaries disappearing in the cyber world one realises that there are just some people distributed geographically or more accessible ol who share common interests.

Similarity
Its funny how people not connected can have eerily similar tastes and ideas. Or even better when people connect and complement each other's theories and concepts.
They might introduce one to newer topics, rehash old ideas and in general be good friends in that regard. I don't know 90% of the people in my blogroll, but I visit their blogs daily and feel admiration or kinship for their ideas and work. Same goes for people who meet in regulated specialised Forums (I didnt say chat rooms). There is an occasional creep to handle but mostly its ok.

They are available
Starting from tips to cracking CAT to the review of the latest movie, ol friends are just a IM or post away. Your offline friends might not be this easily available for you.

Conclusion is
Dont lie. If you dont want to reveal, say 'I'm not comfortable giving this info out. Sorry'
Stay sharp and aware
Set limits and boundaries and stick to them
Maintain healthy intentions and ensure the same from the other
Continue to nurture and expand your offline friends circle. Nothing can replace them.
Look for intellectual company and not love [that would put you in desparate category unless You are Tom Hanks or Meg Ryan.]
Move away when it gets weird. RUN.

Now you can enjoy the virtual company of some of the great minds, who think the same as you!!
Ciao Friends,
Rain

A whole lot of nothing

I've had nothing to say for a very long time now. Its been nearly 2 weeks. There are many people who could have had normal BP and sanity levels if this had been my usual behavior.
But its not.
Have I been too busy?
Yes. But that has not silenced me ever before, so why now?
Is it that I dont have any contribution to the universe?
*GASP. SHUDDERS*
very true. I dont believe anything I write here will change the world (for the better).
Have I taken up other activites?
If you count 3 days & nights spanning 10 movies, Yes.
Have I lost interest in blogging?
Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

I believe that I should write standard stuff, not cater to timetables. So only and if imagination strikes me, creativity flows out and passion stirs up bright ideas; I shall post. Otherwise, I just read others blogs and comment on them.

BTW, its gotten way too hot lately. And its only March.
Brinda, HAPPY RETURNS OF YESTERDAY. *small internet calamity at home.plz dont mind*

Wishing herself in a very cool place,
Rain

On Automation

I am a child of the popular culture; my essays are supplemented by quotes from songs rather than long dead greek philosophers, I believe in anything that is incredible, I live more at home with machinery than the organic lifestyle that I know is good for me.

Crichton has a great profile: he is a MD, a research biologist, a science fiction writer and movie screen player writer. He brought real-live dinosaurs into our 20th century fantasy-less lives. In 1972, he wrote ‘The Terminal Man’. Maybe in the distant future our descendants might consider his writing to be ‘prophetic’ like we do with H.G.Wells or Jules Verne. And if we want only rosy futures for our children to be, we will hope he is hopelessly wrong.

Animax is a view into the very warped Japanese popular culture, obsessed with the AI, robots and the next step that humanity will take. ‘Ghost in the shell: Stand Alone Complex’ is one example program, who’s protagonist is a disturbing mix of human and machine parts. She is capable of driving on the roads, physically and parallely participating in an online discussion from her mind. She receives instructions as data from her boss and peers, has add-ons that can make her invisible and she enjoys an occasional fine wine. She can’t be called android or humanoid. In fact the tagline of this program is ‘in the future, when the distinction between the digital and the physical is blurred’. It’s a popular show, as are many others of the same genre.

Which brings me to the point I am pondering on;
are we as an entire species being desensitized enough to ignore our alarming dependence on independent machinery?
Are we like the starving people of under-developed countries who sweat out in production of Nike shoes that they will never use?
Are we contributing to the creation of this massive intelligence that will eventually take over?
A move we’ll not notice as we live out our lab rat like life where we get food for all our senses on time and therefore don’t notice ‘reality’.

Automation is the key word in my profession. Like digging deep pits for our measurements, we are being paid and maintained to make the systems that will work with minimum human interference. Like Neumann would have dismissed the almost instantaneous growth that has lead to micro computers as fiction, we are quite at ease watching AI run rampant in our television screens and gaming consoles as we feel they would be functional and a threat to someone else in the future, not now, not us.
What if the future is now?
Is it wise to give autonomy to systems and let them control us at our most intimate level?
Banking and money transfer is completely automated now. And the various systems that operated are all interconnected. If one fine day we don’t have out ATMs working and the bank records are not retrievable, all hell will break loose.
Rich are so proud of their state-of the art security systems that keep the intruders out, to see it from the other way, they are just building fancy jails for themselves, from where they’ll need machine acceptance to come out of.
Medicine and surgery is now completely dependant on monitoring systems and stat charts, without these, our doctors can only give out bandages and hand out morphine; the very stage medicine was at during the American civil war.

What is most disturbing is the automation in people; we lead robotic lives. Our movements, eating, sleeping, thinking and behavior are all regulated. We crave for expensive under wear which is like any other normally priced version, except that it sports the words ‘calvin klein’ in it. Why not use a marker and get your kicks cheaper?
Women world-wide cultivate bulimia in order to look ‘right’ which is synonymous with-emaciation, simultaneously scarring their psyche forever; men pump their body with steroids to get the ‘strong’ look, while they get weaker and more dependant on chemicals.

Any deviance is termed abnormal and is abhorred and mitigated. Our education weeds out freethinkers as ‘problem-children’ and lateral processing as ‘idling away’ and encourages those who have been mind-controlled best by their parents, society and the trends. If all the early men had gone about hunting and gathering and dying in the cold, we wouldn’t have come about, but for that one abnormal guy who wanted to rub two sticks together while the others laughed at him.

Evolution is occurring in present tense, as it has been from the start of life on this planet.
We will change into the beings of the future, but they shouldn’t be part mechanical. Our minds should evolve, enlarge, integrate and our evolution should be spiritual.

I don’t pretend to have the solutions. I just think there are some problems that have not been recognized.

Let ‘Dystopian’ not describe our futures,
Rain.

The Perils Of The Published Poet

Swetha gave it a two thumbs up and even went as far as recommending it to her husband as a way of introducing me and he seemed to take it pretty well too. Raj gave it a one thumb up another thumb down. I admit its not my best, but given the one evening I had (and wiled away) and the 15 minutes of the next day morning I spent on this (hastily summoning all muses),I should say its not bad.so lets not sit around twiddling thumbs,all ye stout hearted lads and lassies, lets get with the poem:

A Journey in a Life…

Like the first colonists in a new world at bay,
We stepped onto the campus one fateful day.

In just a little less than half a decade, we emerged,
as seeds, from the tree, with greatness in us, preserved.

Our journey here was by no means smooth or easy, as it shouldn't, you see,
for each of us is now a skillful sailor, we set out to be.

Life here taught us to be humble and proud,
to learn and teach, alternatively and loud.

To fight best when pushed the hardest, a measure;
Diamonds are the coal that performed under pressure.

Sometimes it was as normal as college life would get,
and sometimes quite the antithesis of standards that were set.

We lived and laughed, till there came a time to go,
Things will move on, that would always be so.

Deep in the distant future, when great many things would end and begin,
some things would always have to remain- our source, our origin.

Plz take time to throw some praise/brickbats my way.
When times comes, you know I'll do the same for you :)
Rain

I am Poet and I know it…

Sometimes its difficult to choose in life; which is more humiliating- the pathetic attempt at poetry which was generated at the last minute from the moral obligation one feels for her alma mater even though that fine institution does not give the person a convocation, or being questioned by the Manager that leaves him and the rest of the team laughing with quite a lot of unintended amusement at the ‘answers’.
Which brings us to the main point- I am a published poet.
An unwilling one at that, nevertheless, a published one.
My fling with poetry started, funnily enough, with my tendency to come late especially on Mondays when the first period, which would be in full swing when I land, was English.
My Teacher Mrs.Rani Jeyasanker has a sense of humor that can perhaps be described, even if a little understatedly as, ironic. She would usually let me stay outside until her class concluded, not producing any effect on me other than the increase of Vitamin D in my skin and circulation of fresh air in my lungs.
Our little arrangement suited me fine. It let me cool off from the hectic cycling I did to get to school anyway. I guess if anything is too good for you, it will not last long, so it wasn’t very surprising when our keen teacher caught a whiff of the fact that her ‘outstanding’ student was actually enjoying her punishment, which was, in a nutshell the antithesis of the very purpose of punishment.
So she set about making a very devious plan to make me squirm and also made sure it would give her an idea as to why this student(me) had the feeling that she was supposed to report at school at 9 while the others correctly knew that the time was actually 8.40 am.
One fine Monday (if ever there is such a thing), I landed at my class, late, happy, perspiring and oblivious to my impending doom, in the same order. Rani ma’am didn’t look up for my
”Excuse me, Ma’am” bleat, instead she responded while her eyes still kept their vigil over a precious attendance book.
“Yes, Remya (me). Come in.”
The class was stunned. It was one of those ‘tension in the air could’ve been cut with a knife’ sort of circumstances. My eyes as wide as really wide and spherical objects, I came in with faltering steps that betrayed my surprise and took my seat at the backbench (predictably).
Having finished her intensive work with the above-mentioned book, Rani Ma’am walked up to the center of the class from where she usually tries her level best to stop us from saying ‘yaar’ as the suffix of every sentence and other such fruitless pursuits.
Raditating from the unblinking stare from each of the souls that haunted the class, she said, “I want you to bring tomorrow, without fail, a poem on why you always come late”.
My fate as the laughing stock of the class was sealed when she innocuously mentioned ‘without’ and ‘fail’ consecutively. Only suicidal people would dare to challenge those softly spoken words.

The long and short of it was I did write one and Shalini, who was wandering around with her senses alive and looking for kill from her position as editor of the girls school magazine, pounced on it as ‘a certified hoot’ and published it, causing most of my alma mater to always remember me as ‘the-girl-who-wrote-that-latecoming-poem’. Hardly a compliment for a serious poetess, but for me it was Olympic praise.

Today I wrote another poem describing my college life, which I sent not only to my HOD, for who’s eyes alone it was strictly intended, but to the entire ex-class from college (big mistake), hereby ensuring that they will each be having moments of mirth at my expense or will shudder at the very though that they were ever acquainted to me and how best they can bury that ignominy. Maybe both in any order.
I stay… infamous.
Rain
PS: would I ever want it any other way??

Pendulum Strikes

I have a tendency to be affected by books. Some people cry at the movies, I get depressed after reading depressing books. If that alone was not enough, a small failure relating to my standing in office and the sudden disappearance of my wallet contributed to the foul shade of my blues last weekend.
But predominantly it was ‘Focault’s Pendulum’

Three guys go about taking in and processing and spewing out the million-gazillion useless facts on the broad and connected subjects of Templars, Masons, Rosicruxians, Celtic Black Virgins, Illuminati, Assasins, Comte St. Germain, William Shakespeare, Francis Bacon, Hitler, you-name-the-crap-and-its-there.
Then one dies of Cancer, one is killed by people who think he knows something but does not and the third narrates everything and waits for the killers to finish him off.
There, I said it in 2 sentences, Eco (the author) decides to drag the reader (me) through sulphur and hell-fire baiting me with the carrot hung from a stick ( a crude pendulum, don’t you think? *drools* ) only to push the person into a sewer that says, everything they postulated was false but the deranged occult maniacs believe it and are trying to kill the protagonists in a pathetic attempt to know more about their ‘secret club’.
Sad, sad, sad story of nothing. It promised me the heaven and earth and dunked my head under a tap of lukewarm water.
So all that came to the forefront from all those pages was not the wonder and mystery of cabbala that turned Madonna into Esther, it was just the very pathetic vein that humans have to know about the happenings of the exclusive ‘cool kids club’ that will not accept them.

So the legends say about this ultimate secret society that exists where only world famous scientists, writers and artists can join. Why wont they accept common folk? Obviously, because they are planning something big, like changing the world. Also they don’t want you to know that we live in the subterranean earth and that there is a level above us and there is one below. They don’t want you to know that Shakespeare was the Virgin Queen’s illegitimate child.
One major doubt, why is it that virgins can only be women. By default, do we have to assume all men are born corrupted?
Just a point I am pondering on…
Rain

*frustration alert*

The yearly audit of just how far you have come in life in that all-important first year of your entry into the real world (“Buckle up, Dorothy, cos Kansas is going bye-bye”)
from the selfishly young life on college campus comes when you receive a mail that goes:
Dear student,
We are pleased to invite you for the convocation on so-and-so date at such-and-such time….blah blah blah
It’s a fit tough case for young Lamentine because my set of the cursed 42 souls that spent 4 and change frustrating years at so ungrateful an institution on which we showered our money and work (the million meetings and functions I was MOC for and organized, swept the halls, arranged prizes, designed invitations, ran around for…all meaningless) have not been considered important enough to be given a ceremonial convocation and handing over of our degrees.
Instead, the first ever convocation of our fledgling department that we, with our combined grit and work brought up to the formidable stand it is in today, will start from our Juniors’ batch. Thus we have been overstepped entirely.
As far as anyone is concerned, we don’t exist.
I rant from my blog, perhaps the only impractical hoot from the entire class to feel angry that I am not being made to drop a day’s work to trudge through the impossibly long way to that very end of the universe where college stands and wear the gauchiest, brightest, yellowest, unwashed, sars-infected set of rental robes that ever made its way from the telugu film industry wardrobe; to be forced to listen to some droning eminent personality who is thinking why he got himself into this sitch…
But it still doesn’t change the fact that we were not invited and given our convocation.
We faced all the horrors of being raw in a campus without the protective shadow of seniors or department staff in our very first year. We lived through it and fought all the way to be taken seriously and that process was filled with any cuts, scratches and bruises for us.
Don’t even want a medal for the courageous feats we performed while being trodden by each and every person on campus, they could’ve just treated us normally.
Its one thing to say that we might’ve been too busy make it or that we simply didn’t want to go back there when all our friends are across the Atlantic, because it makes it our choice to not go. There simply was no scope for even a trace of choice here.
I am feeling mad as hell. *in case this subtle point has escaped anyone’s notice*
Rain.

PS: here is something that I wanted to read out on our Farewell Day, but since I was too wet…(another sordid tale) here it is now. Dedicated to the first batch of IT 99-03, a bunch of mixed nuts.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of 99...

Wear Sunscreen

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experienceI will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years youll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you cant grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.You're not as fat as you imagine.

Dont worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing everyday that scares you

Sing

Dont be reckless with other peoples hearts, dont put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss

Dont waste your time on jealousy; sometimes youre ahead, sometimes youre behind the race is long, and in the end, its only with yourself.

Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch

Dont feel guilty if you dont know what you want to do with your life the most interesting people I know didnt know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds know still dont.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees, youll miss them when theyre gone.

Maybe youll marry, maybe you wont, maybe youll have children, maybe you wont, maybe youll divorce at 40, maybe youll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary what ever you do, dont congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either your choices are half chance, so are everybody elses. Enjoy your body, use it every way you can, dont be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, its the greatest instrument youll ever own..

Dance even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you dont follow them.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents, you never know when theyll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography in lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do youll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Dont expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Dont mess too much with your hair, or by the time its 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than its worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen...

To what purpose…

There are some truly humbling experiences in life. Some really unnecessary ones.
Just when you begin to get the complacent warm feeling of being needed at work, when you are being asked to learn things, do things and discuss things, suddenly from the blue, pops out a sitch that demands that you draw up a marketing strategy to sell yourself (in a very legal sense of the phrase).
A statement of purpose asks you questions that cannot be given researched or tabulated readings or straight answers, like-
Describe your job responsibilities and accomplishments
Why you want further education?

There is no right or wrong answer here.
Just ones that leave you feeling happy and those that require some help from St.Lamentine or the angels from the Bacardi company or both.

If I could really write what I want to on the statement of purpose…I am sure that I will not even be considered for originality, still, if I could do it, this is what I would say:
Accomplishments?
Can consume up to 4 liters of legally addictive stimulants (read coffee) per day and have the sobriety to carry on routine tasks without needing to regurgitate.
Can laugh as much at self as at other people.
Can reel out every dialogue of the Matrix and Godfather.
Has read the Lord of the rings trilogy atleast 45 times and will continue to re-read them.

Responsibilities…
How about saving the world? Then I have to change, in time for office, to my alter ego of a meek, mild mannered girl engineer who is:
In-charge of keeping Xeroxed printouts in each place before each meeting and also sharpening the entire team’s pencils,
supplying Sardarji jokes to all those down and out,
Contributing prominently to the discussion forum on books and movies,
Deleting the zillion forwards that come in and make that one all important mail from boss to bounce due to lack of space…(isn’t it ironic?…don’t you think?)
Playing the sarali tunes on flute to ensure movement of people away from the place of performance…etc.

Why do you want to study?
Why the hell not?
Why go to the moon or climb mountains…how about, I want to do it…because I want to? That is my honest answer.

If anyone thinks that they can judge me by my answers to three very pointless questions, they had better have another think coming, real fast.
Oh, it'll take a little time,
Might take a little crime
To come undone now
We'll try to stay blind
To the hope and fear outside
Hey child, stay wilder than the wind
And blow me in to cry
Who do you need, who do you love
When you come undone?
Rain

PS: USA, get ready to welcome Mrs.B, who in all probability will rock your world ;)

The Block

St. Lamentine’s phone has been ringing non-stop and there is a good reason why she would be worked to exhaustion today. I complained that I got bloggers block, little did I know that I shouldn’t have used the word ‘block’ so lightly.
The exact magnitude of the word was explained to me by the set of events that has left the most brilliant resources of the Chennai IT industry sun tanning themselves just a few yards away from the office….
A ROAD BLOCK
Tsunami formed a very persuasive reason for the slum dwellers of the marina coast to shift to the slum clearance board flats in thoraipakkam which is the start of the stretch of OMR (Ol’ Mahabalipuram Road) that houses software giants and pygmies one after the other all the way up to pondicherry.
But these city workers get just 2 buses going away from their present location back into the city…. a pittance for a force of 20000 people that have moved here.
Also for this last week, there has been no water or electricity for them. So they did what any desperate mob would do, hit where it hurts most.
As a result the artery to the IT offices has been blocked and the buses and vans stand paralyzed. The sardonic crowd says that this problem of getting to work and schools on time is something they are being made to face everyday and that they want the ‘upper classes’ (us IT guys) to walk in their shoes for just a day and see their pain.
Facing the undercurrent of the riots breaking out anytime many stayed back in the buses, venturing out only to the roadside shops to buy soft drinks and biscuits. But the plucky ones (like me) took the alternate route by the small alleyways that run parallel to the main road and reach the office now. The crowd of the protesters has now marked even that and I count myself as being lucky to have escaped the intimidation of a physical assault from the mob if anyone tries to get past them on the way to office.
“Call the collector to talk to us and we’ll let you pass”, they say,
“Call the Chief Minister to hear our case”.
All the administrative offices of the IT companies are no doubt in touch with the secretariat for a long time since the day broke. Mission Accomplished.
In all, if I were a protestor, I would call this a very clever and efficient way to attract attention to my cause.
The ‘sit-in’s were very much the 70s way to get things done in America and I am thinking, just like the 70s bell bottoms and the psychedelic colors that are making their way back into current fashion, may be the protesting styles are making a comeback too.
Meanwhile irate IT professionals have been giving St.Lamentine many earfuls since 8 AM, I think she needs resuscitation.
Time to get back to work (worship)
Rain

Introducing St.Lamentine

I am going to adhere to a new patron saint of cribbers, St.Lamentine.
She (yes, she is female, as would be anyone with more emotional spectrum than a teacup should be) will feature from time to time, whenever I wish to or anyone with affiliation to my blog wants to, bellyache, cry, scream and protest. She is a average looking girl of average IQ and is unique in between just about average in everything.
Her three miracles are:
She is a bad job and still gets up and goes for it everyday without fuss.
She has no social life and yet has never thought of suicide.
She can listen to other people’s problems and not try to commit homicide.
St.L can be invoked by any sad souls as they like it, and as with all saints, she will get the credit for the ‘miracle’ when the cribbing stops (at least for that specific topic)

I propose this concept around the valentine’s week mainly considering the fact that this kind of celebration is only for those who have love; these people form hardly 1% of the total population under consideration (got after carefully removing the dead, the comatose and the software engineers from the total population).
For the rest, 99% of the social active people, the dead, the comatose and the S/W junta, this week is the melancholy week where the predominant feelings are :
‘Nobody loves me’, ‘where can I find an un-registered gun?’ and ‘please god let me not have to go for the Valentines party with my cousin again…’
There is also a second group of predominant thoughts like:
‘Am I dead?’ ‘Am I comatose’ and ‘Am I closing all the internal loops before I compile the program?’
But these, we shall not take up for now, as they are hardly relevant, except to maybe help identify the schema of people who have them.

Whenever you want to cry out a 20 stanza ballad on the diminishing rainforest, or sing out Alanis Morisette/Sting lines like :
’Its like meeting the man of your dreams and then meeting his Beautiful wife..isn’t it ironic’ or
‘I am always hoping I wont end this way or is it my destiny to be the King of pain’ &
‘Why should I cry for you’
If you leave singing to those who can manage it outside the bathroom, you can go for the plain ol’ ‘whats he got that I aint got ‘ routine when you read the article about the forthcoming Aish-Vivek wedding or even ‘How come ugly ol’ Prince charles gets romance in his life although he is so ancient that Sotheby ought to auction him’ and other such ‘rain-on-the-parade’ train of thoughts.
St Lovey Lamentine is here to spiritually support you through your blue moods. She works with her gentle motto of: Nothing helps a bad mood better than spreading it around. A mantra learnt from that Ultimate Guru-Calvin.
She is the invisible force that sends happy signals to your brain when you enter into a diatribe against the other road users in a huge bout of Road Rage. She is the inner glow you have when you send Hate mails to your friend’s beloved from your friend’s email id or IM chat window. She is that feeling of calm after you have after you dump your trash in the lawn of that annoying neighbor.
She isn’t responsible for the consequences (of course) but she will let you come back to her with a new set of accusations, bitter curses and tears anytime, anywhere.
In the meanwhile, I am doing pretty well. I should too; considering I just invented the most perfect saint for the imperfect.
Rain.

Bridesmaid Diaries

We were 16 when we decided that when she’d be married, I’d be her bridesmaid.
She did not ask for a vice versa decision because even back then, she had an inkling of the non-nubile single girl I was to become.
Time Passed, she grew up, I remained the same. We went to the same science course at Ethiraj where she topped subjects made notes (that I borrowed) when I was lounging around in the cricket ground (and Boy was I fit then!!)
We both jointly chose to quit that and move on to the professional course in the engineering college. There she topped classes, won scholarships and prizes (sports and extra-curricular) and I made my own notes (an improvement from the previous state).
We laughed, cursed, fought, made up, ran around, won, lost and did the same things in sequences repeatedly. In the end, we had lost a little of the bosom-buddies tag we used to wear. People started to get the fact that we weren’t Twiddle-Dee and Twiddle-Dum and that we weren’t joined at the waist.
We kept in touch though.
And she decided to get married on fine day in December. I couldn’t quite comprehend how generous of heart Brinda was to ask me to return to the fold implicitly. I was so touched that she wanted to share her happiest moments with me.
Knowing that she was to fly off soon to America where her groom was working, I wanted to make best use of the limited time we had together. You know they say that you wont realize the importance of the things you have until they are gone, but you just don’t get it until it actually happens to you.
Yesterday, the most beautiful bride in the whole wide world was married to her Prince Charming. I was a small part of this magnificent occasion.
Thank you for everything, Brinda. You are one very cool babe.
God Bless you.
Rain

The Lion is King

Yesterday was the impromptu Movie Marathon Night!!
I landed some DVDs and the timelimit till today morning, and boy if my DVD player could talk...it would sue me for overworking it!!!
The movies were JURASSIC PARK III , GoDZILLA and THE LION KING.
And this is in the ascending order of Watchability, maintainance of Viewer sanity and net worth.

The Lion emerged the King for a variety of reasons.
First it was a cartoon, so that fact notches it up by a few points automatically in my opinion; second, the Songs...each one lovable and each one so relevant.
Sample :
"Hakuna Matata...what a wonderful phrase"- also the great motto; as in, "what the motto with ya..." ok so its funny only for Timon.
"Circle of Life" - A lesson for humans as well as cubs that are about to be Kings.
"And I just cant wait to be king" - just what every kid feels.
and the closing strains of "can you feel the love tonight.." :
Timon (Muskrat)-"And if he falls in love tonight, he may leave us soon. His Happy days with us all history... in short our friend is Dooooooooooooomedd!!"
- self-explanatory. :p
Each and every small and great character is so finely tuned and made unforgettable:
Timon, Pumba, Rafiki, Zazu...these guys are the side kicks, but boy do they have some niche scenes!!
I could re-collect Zazu's mornful song as he is imprisoned by Simba's mean Uncle Scar:
" Nooo body knows the trouble I see....Noooo body knows my sorrow"
it tickles me to death!
The Lion King is for kids of all ages.
and I am a kid for all age...
Rain

International Treasure

Ordinarily, I would be the last human in the world to ever recommend a movie starring Nick Cage. The last as in, the aliens-came-and-blasted-everybody-but-spared-me-because I-am-quite-alien-myself, kinda last.
But if that big issue has been sidelined, and so also the other big issue of my blog starting to look like a Philum-review blog, then there must be a good enough reason for it;
THE NATIONAL TREASURE


It’s a fast paced Da-Vinci like enterprise taken by Ben Franklin Gates(Cage) aided voluntarily by the Computer nerd Riley (who doesn’t get the girl) and not-so-voluntarily by the Director of the National Archives, Dr.Chase (as if they let twenty somethings be that) , in his endeavor.
The quest is to save the Declaration of Independence, which doubles as the invisible treasure map, from falling into the hands of the nefarious (but foxy) Ian Howe (Sean Bean, Boromir of the LOTR, fame).
There is the dollar bills, American national monuments, loads of trivia, the unfinished pyramid with the all seeing eye, gunshots, car chases, hoodlums and the rest of the stuff that makes giving Rs50/- to a theatre, worthwhile.
And the ending is really surprising, the people find the largest treasure ever, the Hero gets the girl and a big house, the nerd gets a Ferrari. No, I was just kidding, its ending not surprising at all.
What is surprising is an old hag like Cage coming out with justice done to this movie. By making it believable that he is a cool guy obsessed with a apparent lost cause.
If you liked Da Vinci Code. Watch this.
(No I am not getting paid for promotion.)
Rain

Geriatric

You know you are old when…
· All your favorite songs come under “Golden Oldies” compilations.
· When the son/daughter of the actor you had a crush on is in the film industry now.
· Young children everywhere call you aunty.
· People look at you strangely if you walk with a balloon in hand and no child accompanying you.
· You used to play outside with other children after school and not go for tuitions and abacus classes until high school.
· People everywhere call you “Amma” or “madam” when you can remember they used to call you “Paapaa” before.
· Sometimes you can’t remember what it is you are supposed to be remembering.
· Cousins look around in your closet to find “retro” clothing.
· You are not allowed to go on the caterpillar ride or climb onto the swings in the park.
· All of your sentences to younger people start with “when I was ….” Or “In my time…”
· You worry about the future of your country.
· You don’t get a hat on your birthday party and your mom won’t allow “Harry Potter” theme.
· You best friend is married and other friends have children.
· Latest heartthrob of the masses is young enough to be a kid-brother.
· Your parents are at the sans eyes, sans teeth…condition.
· You take sick leave when you are actually sick.
· All the characters in the cartoons are old enough to be your kids.
· You love giving advice.
· People never listen to your advice
· You start to use the aphorisms and maxims that you parents used to drive you crazy with.
· You dress like your mother.
· You wonder about the topic: when do I know that I am old?
· You call yourself 23 years young.
· You get jealous of the fact that school kids have cell phones now but you never got it when you were in school. [same goes for DVD players, sony play station and short kurtas]
· You like to say “Children nowadays…” with a disappointed expression and sigh.
· You were alive during the gulf war
· You’ve seen Pope John Paul when he could still move.
· Bridget Jones seems to make sense to you.
· All the best fun you’ve had, happened atleast half a decade ago.
· You are not allowed inside Cul Fests.
· Cops never ask to see your license.
· You wish they would.
YOU KNOW YOU ARE OLD WHEN YOU DON’T FEEL YOUNG ANYMORE.

The World of Tomorrow

Yesterday began well enough, with an upsurge of patriotism in my heart, as me and my father watched the republic day parade. All that build-up went bust as soon as the following program showed some citizens, who were at Rajpath, expressing their feelings. Not that they didn’t say “patriotic, proud, happy”.etc. only thing being, they had no idea that we have a separate day called Independence Day during which time we thank our freedom fighters for getting us our country back. No one seemed to realize we were supposed to be celebrating the declaration of us being a republic and us having our own constitution.
Then I got cynical to the vein of patriotism that seemed to run through all the special programs that day and went for the movie for which I could manage to get decent tickets at the last possible moment. I thought I was lucky to get to go for a movie starring Jude Law, the added bonus being Angelina Jolie. I think that girl Rocks!!!

If the fate of the world depended on a guy like Joe Sullivan (Jude Law), the Sky Captain, in the “Sky Captain and the world of tomorrow”…there wouldn’t be a day after tomorrow. His taste in women, for one thing, is enough to spell doom. For god’s sake Gwenyth Palthrow [Who I thought I couldn’t hate enough after “Shakespeare in Love”, for which she even got a goddamn Oscar!!] is the nosy girl reporter ( a la Lois Lane) the ex-flame of our Sky Doofus who in his wooden way tries to hide how much she means to him. Painfully enough the intelligent viewer (me) is forced to sit through scenes where in the upside down reflection of the hero’s plane make hllod reads polly (the name of the heroine. Just say it out loud “Polly Perkins”-I break into hives), surely anyone who is not 13 years old and in the throes of his first infatuation will not find their supposed romantic banter in any way...romantic. Jude’s English accent, I mean Brit accent is so funny that the intelligent viewer cant take Joe Sullivan for the dashing adventurer he is supposed to be…I mean..”Ppawlee” and “taukeeng” are being said and we are supposed to hear “polly” and “talking”!!!
He is on his way to find the villain Totenkoff who with the use of his nepali girl and robots( straight out of 1960 sci-fi movies) manages to kidnap (among others) Dex [what else do they name boy geniuses?] the right hand scientific innovator. Polly wants (among other things) the story, so she hooks up with him. He and she do a “Hum-Tum” every now and then and reach a point when there is no fuel, just then they reach the abode of Capt. Frankie Cook( Jolie), who should be the Sky captain, in my opinion.
When She sets her eyes on the Perkins specimen, Frankie says “What is that?”. No truer words were ever spoken. Then there are some robot fights and then the hero and the heroine save the day.

So I was made cynical about the world of tomorrow. Then my neighbor Trup, who works for an NGO, gave me the CDs of “Guess who’s coming to Dinner?”. I have a lot to say about that one too. But for the maintenance of my reader’s sanity, my new concern, I will keep my views on that for the next post.

So don’t ever see “Sky Captain…” unless you want to commit suicide by killing your brain.
On that bright note,
Rain

Fwd:

A Fwd
There comes a time when even the most maligned form of communication called a forward starts to make sense to you. It is a symbol of just how lifeless a person can get.
Ordinarily, I would say that fwds have saved me from certain insanity that comes from paid unemployment. Lately however I have begun to understand the importance of pretending to give importance to dignity [whatever that is…]. So one should not enjoy the experience of receiving a mail not written by the sender, which is sent to a million others apart from you showing just how much of a priority you are given and which will no doubt be sent to you repeatedly by all your acquaintances who get it themselves.
So I will be politically correct and say I hate fwds- they are stupid, impersonal and annoying. So are most of the people you are forced to live around, however, we shall pretend that it doesn’t bother us. [Phoney alert]
Having strayed from the main path of just introducing this post, I will try and redeem myself. This fwd I got today morning. I think it’s a sad story of the certain clan of young people who have sold off their right to have a life apart from office to the MNCs they work for.
Cyber Age Movie Story
Hero is a software engineer. He does not have a life worth speaking of. He spends eighteen hours a day in the office working and browsing the net.
Heroine is a software engineer in the same company. She does not have a life either. She spends eight hours in front of her PC, thirteen hours in front of the TV and the remaining, sleeping.

One day, Hero meets Heroine in a staff meeting. They argue endlessly about the insanity of Microsoft applications.. especially Outlook 2003. Couple of such fights later, Heroine is found drinking coffee with Hero in Office canteen.
"What is life?" asks the Hero looking at the vacuum right above her head.
"I've been wondering too." sighs the heroine.
"Why are we fighting over Outlook 2003?" Hero drinks his black coffee.
"And why are we not talking about Lotus NOtes" Heroine sips her Latte.
Hero shakes his head.
"It's not about software products. It is about life. I guess life is much bigger than OUtlook 2003."
Heroine nods. "I think it is. I am not sure though. Do you know that Microsoft has come up with a fix to that bug you've been using to prove Outlook is a worthless piece of garbage?"
"Heroine," Hero is now determined, "From this moment onwards, I am not discussing anything remotely related to software."
"Fine Hero," says Heroine, "Good bye then."

Hero then returns all the Sybase manuals to the library and rents out "how to live a life?"
Heroine meanwhile gets into an altercation with the villain during a conversation on Sharepoint server. Villain vows to format the hard disk of the heroine.

Heroine takes her PC and runs away from the cubicle trying to escape from the villain's evil intentions. Since it is night shift, no one comes to her rescue.
Hero, who has been reading "how to live a life" very seriously, suddenly finds out that he loves the heroine as much as he used to love Tetris. So hero messages Heroine on Yahoo Instant messenger. But there is no reply. Hero does not understand it. He knows that the heroine is supposed to be in night shift. What is she doing in Night shift if not on Yahoo Instant Messenger? As far as he know that is what people are supposed to do in night shift.

Hero senses trouble. He runs barefooted on the InformationSuperhighway and reaches office just in time to see the villain snatch the PC out of heroine's hands and type the command "Format C:\". When his fingers get to the "Enter" key, hero delivers the killer punch on villain's face. Villain is thrown back. But in the process he manages to press the Enter key...

The world comes to a standstill. The sky roars. The Rain pours.Heroine breaks down. Villain is on cloud nine. But our Hero isn't sad.He is smiling. Villain cannot understand. Hero then says, "Villain, You should learn DOS properly. Your grave mistake...".
He shows the monitor to Villain. The DOS command prompt says "Are you sure?".
It is waiting for a "Y" to commence the formatting operation.
Hero then simply presses "N".Villain cries in frustration "Nooooooo" and charges like a bull. Then follows a lengthy fight. Heroine meanwhile calls the police and they come right after hero beats the villain to pulp. Without asking any questions, the police understand who is hero and who is villain andtake him into custody.

Heroine, tears in her eyes, takes her PC, switches it on and jumps with joy when she finds her favorite Calvin and Hobbs collection in tact in her C drive.
"You saved my data" she exclaims.
"No, you saved it yourself." hero says.
"No.. Jesus saves. I don't" she cries.
"Nothing happened na." Hero consoles.
"Let us get married" heroine sheds some more tears, "I want someone by my side to protect the Calvin and Hobbs collection on my PC".
"I love you Heroine" says the hero.
"I love you Hero" says the heroine.
"So you agree that Outlook 2003 is a bad product".
"No I don't. Why not we talk about Lotus nOtes?"
The End.

Ordinarily, I would never post anything I didn’t write myself, but just that, I couldn’t have written a more heart wrenchingly true account of the lives we s/w junta lead myself.
Lets just hope this is the first and last Fwd: Post
Rain

New Kid on the Block

Its tough being the new one in a set crowd.
Remember starting day at the new school? Of course you do; things like that you never forget. College was another thing, everyone was the new kid so everyone started on equal footing. But in office especially if you shift departments and projects you get placed among people who have been with each other ever since creation.
You don’t match in a million things- food preferences, personality compatibility, technical expertise, understanding and rapport. A grey alien would be more comfortable in your seat than you in that circumstance.
It takes time to fix your routine into the team’s and no part of that inclusion is bound to be seamless, in other , less kind words, you’ll stick out like a sore thumb.
People don’t smile at you or greeting comes your way, no banter and lots of stiff formality.
Worst comes to worst when, more often than not, the new one commits a big momma blunder as an unintended part of an exercise meant to illustrate the spirit of creativity and innovation. That is, no one asked you to do it, but you did it, and you screwed up-big time.
That is fine. Anything that doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.
Bloopers are just the after effects of the self-induced stress and the self-propagated pressure of trying to win over everyone instantaneously.
You’re no Princess Di. Deal with it.
Settling into a new group is a time-consuming process and is equally painful to all in the group. There’s always that optimistic thought that says –“ hey, who knows? I may be the best thing to ever happen to these people. They’d probably like to welcome me with open arms. Once I stop being on the defensive.”
Deep breathe. Remove self doubt. There is never going to be a “World’s greatest klutz” event at the Olympics, so to speculate if you would be the hands down winner at such a competition is , as it will always be, a fruitless exercise [ an exercise where there is no scope of weight loss]. Also there will always be quite a number of people are more pathetic than you.
Live to fight another day.
Or live till a even newer kid shows up on the block making you the veteran.

Where the Eagles dare..

hey all, happy pongal, sakranthi or whatever it is that is relevant to you that marks the start of spring.
I went on a mahabalipuram drive with my family on saturday that got extended into a pilgrimage when we landed at a place 18km from the resort beach front called "Thirukazukundram" loosely translated as " the blessed place of the eagles".
It was bad enough that my uncle forced us into visiting the croc bank on the way to Mahabs (where I had lost the massive appetite I am famous for) and that 5 super-sized adult homo sapiens sapiens were packed into one wagon-r along with a growing child of 9; but the cream was that this temple was on top of a hill, entirely to be covered on foot... needless to say, no one was prepared for it.
My uncle goaded the younger lot, that is , me (yaay , I am still young and restless)
my sister and my cousin (the 9 yr old aishwarya ) by telling us about the pair of jumbo sized golden eagles that would make a trip all the way from Kasi to come here by noon exactly every day and partake the offerings left for them in cups at a certain side in the hill. They were supposed to be Siva and Parvati themselves making an appearance for the benefit of the devotees. Eagles are a symbol of this divine strength, Romans, Americans, Sumerians, you name any country or civilization that was ruling the roost in their day and you’ll find eagle symbology in them. I am totally in love with the eagles for their beauty and their embodying all that is good and great. So I was desparate to catch sight of these show-stoppers.
My aunt, who everyone says I will look like when I reach her age, bravely managed to puff her way up even if it did take her a full 30 minutes more than it took the men (uncle and dad) and the young.
It was nearly sun-down when we reached the top and went in to pray to the mula moorthi (main deity). There the pujari (who spoke 3 languages) assured us that the eagles that had been coming for centuaries or to be exact, as long as anyone can remember, had stopped their appearances 5-6 years ago, but that very day we had come, they too had come and hovered around the temple in circles, but not landed to take the offerings.
He was not sure if the birds that had come that day were the very same representatives of the godly couple that had made this temple famous, for there were some speculations that the visits ad stopped because the eagles could've died and that the returners were new-comers.
I was certainly disappointed to have missed the old birds of the legends as well as the new comers (who we missed by some 4 hours)but the hike up and down the picturesque hill and the sunset view from the top more than made up for all of it.
Mahabalipuram is more somber than I remember it to have been, maybe because, of the near destruction it faced a month back. Also East Coast Road is dotted with the temporary relief tents and stranded people of the each front. So there is nothing much to say about it.
I spent some 200 bucks more on books (2 new-are you afraid of the dark, Prodigal daughter, 2 very very old- Jaws and 13 ghost stories). had Pizza over the weekend and almost bought new sport shoes. Is this mindless-money spender the new me?
I believe in Evolution,
Rain
PS: until I am settled, the posts will be sporadic. plz adjust.

A non-typical weekend

I cleaned, hooked up with Jai, entertained my relatives, broke my spectacles after nearly tearing up my lenses, missed going out to meet Lavy, went out to book fair, bought some ‘unusual’ books. All this in the 2 days reserved for lazing and more lazing!!
Read on.
These afore mentioned activities either rarely occur individually or never happen at all.
First and foremost, I cleaned up the house. My parents nearly had heart attacks and my sister was struck dumb (ah..those few moments of peace) because of this, so I have decided to forego the opportunity to repeat this act again. Sacrifice for the family. That is my motto.

Why did I clean? Jai came over with her mom. Havent seen Jai in more than 2 years. I was so glad to receive her that I would have even gone on to the extent of cooking myself, but she wisely declined a potential health hazard, for I am all good intentions but I am no Yan (who can cook…remember the cheerful Chinese guy who used to chop things really fast?).
She had some great presents for me- a collector’s Library Edition of ‘Pride and Prejudice’
And the eternal favorites- chocolates!!
We talked like we’ve seen each other a lot, more about the current life and related topics. "Remember when we were…..” sort of reminiscences are usually associated with meeting friends made in school, a healthy dose of which serves to revive some pleasant moments, but if that is the sole sentence starter it means the people have out-grown each other and are just clinging to nostalgia. We, however, are still relevant to each other; we do interact regularly even though I am still India-bound. Jai Internet!!
Appa took me to their temp place of stay so we could talk some more. Which we did at length, and that is a nice experience.
Sunday dawned, I was looking forward to Lavy’s call as she landed in Chennai from the land of rasogullas on her way to her native to spend some days with her family. She called at noon and we made plans to meet in the evening. That plan was thwarted by the unfortunate tendency of my glasses to escape the confines of my spectacles frame which snapped a joint open. I was left blind. [my lens had been damaged the day before as the result of an accident concerning it falling on the ground ]
By the time my father got the errant spectacles corrected by the optician, she was well on her way to her home. Hopefully, I’ll get to meet her before she flies back to the land of gangully worshippers.
My vision was restored in time to make it to the book fair that evening. I enjoyed browsing the second hand pavement shops that thronged the outer boundaries of the fair grounds than the main exhibition itself mainly due to the variety, topics of interest and a point to consider – I could afford those.
Also, I stretched my boundaries by procuring, in good condition, A james bond novel [Gold Finger, I am sure it will be a novel experience] , 1984 [need anything be said? ], a collection of short stories picked by Alfred hitch cock [Sis’s pick, she seemed unhappy with that later], a self-help book [I’m ok, You’re OK. Really??] , the 3rd book of the Blade Runner series[I’ve only seen the movie and never knew of the books] and Ramana Maharishi’s very brief answers to “Who am I?”[that doesn’t come under fiction though].

The pavement book gods assured my sister of a ‘Prodigal Daughter’ in good condition in a few days time, so I think I will be going back there to uncover more treasures.
The weekend rounded off with watching ‘meet the fockers’- a really bad advice. You definitely don’t want to meet the burnses or the fockers. Ever.

Apoorv just gave me a very bright idea. Think I’ll just go with it.

Change is my middle name,
Rain

Who is Ramya?

I think that everyone at many points in time would've just asked themselves, "Who (or What )am I?"
Not like the bollywood routine with amnesia patients or Sachin's World Cup ad [mein kaun hoon?, mein kahan hoon?], but more like Bulla Shah's musical contemplation about him not knowing who he is, in a very theological or even spiritual sense.
More often than not, the answers will not please the questioner.

Googlism is a cool tool, to find what the www thinks of the keyword, in this case your name.
I present, the heavily censored version of "Who is ramya?", by Google. Afterall, its the internet, and it has more crap than good stuff. Having a namesake who is known for item numbers in the South Film industry does not help much either.
***the laughs may start here****
ramya is concerned about communication throughout akla and about communication from akla to people outside the
ramya is far from being solved
ramya is the theme of the film
ramya is the one of the first bharata natyam dancers to be included in the touring artists roster of the california arts council
ramya is good at ?"
ramya is not one of your part
ramya is presently undergoing intense dance training under prof jayalakshmi for greater finesse
ramya is his wife
ramya is waiting to kill karan when there is no "bottu" in kousalya's fore head
ramya is associated with the american model yachting association
ramya is more natural in her treatment of everyone around her
ramya is my rider
ramya is groomed in the illegal trade by narayan keni an ambitious fellow who slowly paves his way into active politics
ramya is a sadist
ramya is stunning
ramya is luckier
ramya is cool
ramya is writing a case study focusing more in depth on how differing discourses and practices of ramya is doing her m
ramya is pursuing a phd at mit
ramya is avoidable in role not worth writing home
ramya is a biomedical engineer
ramya is currently working in client side
ramya is now 12 years old and plans to go to the us and become an astronaut
ramya is not suitable
ramya is a different fish
ramya is not at all a bad move
ramya is willing to do light housework
ramya is the surprise element in the film
ramya is confident that by learning a lot of things in this program she'll understand the manager's role better given the opportunity [ROTFL!!!]
ramya is making food
ramya is inside israel
ramya is willing to bring her music system and jay will bring an extension chord
ramya is from the hebrew
ramya is working with denise milhorn and kara with michelle ardell; both professors are from the department of pharmacology
ramya is out
ramya is seen as an ultimate hero
ramya is there to help
ramya is currently at my house and we have been online for the past couple hours unsuccesfully looking for quizzes
ramya is the coolest
ramya is her good friend
ramya is currently finishing her ms in computer science at boston
ramya is from dubai
ramya is sure to provide voltas the same big push with the masses that she did to padayyapa
ramya is a rare chess player who is humble and unaware of her achievements
ramya is not
ramya is seemingly in deep thought on the ponderous subject of which dish to choose
ramya is my name
ramya is currently a senior at princeton university and continues to be an active volunteer with manavi
ramya is from bangalore
ramya is the most recent case in point
ramya is to star in a heroine
ramya is looking for
ramya is playing a junior to balaiah

There is also the "What is" and "Where is" options to playing around in Googlism. Although this exercise was bit fun at times (especially the results made bold), I don't think we've managed to find a satisfactory answer to the main question...

Scully, some questions were never meant to be answered, [I heart Mulder]
Rain