<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764</id><updated>2011-07-29T00:18:20.711-07:00</updated><category term='LifeBlog'/><category term='Chelsea'/><category term='lessons'/><category term='cricket'/><category term='thoughts'/><title type='text'>niyad speaks</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-7266270895161234967</id><published>2009-12-11T10:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T10:38:38.482-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Clocks ticking... the giant clock above my head&lt;br /&gt;Times up!!! It says.....times up my little friend&lt;br /&gt;Don count your numerals...don’t count your sheep&lt;br /&gt;Fuck em all... the clock says...fuck em all and go to sleep!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-7266270895161234967?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/7266270895161234967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=7266270895161234967' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/7266270895161234967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/7266270895161234967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2009/12/clocks-ticking.html' title=''/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-8035237818905909003</id><published>2009-04-12T13:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T04:40:21.822-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Live...lest you die...</title><content type='html'>I woke up early this morning..&lt;br /&gt;Feeling kinda weird…&lt;br /&gt;What’s up with this morning.. I wondered&lt;br /&gt;Scratching my sloppy beard &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The walls …once… were grey&lt;br /&gt;Now …is a shade of cream&lt;br /&gt;Are these feelings for real?&lt;br /&gt;Or is this ….just a dream??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me get out of bed, I thought&lt;br /&gt;N wash these feelings away..&lt;br /&gt;But why would I do that? I thought&lt;br /&gt;I kinda like it this way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why are things so different&lt;br /&gt;from what it used to be???&lt;br /&gt;Why do I feel the world&lt;br /&gt;is smiling back at me??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will this last the distance??&lt;br /&gt;Will I feel the same??&lt;br /&gt;It’d be sad to lose all this&lt;br /&gt;It’d be such a shame&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me not think, lest it be a crime&lt;br /&gt;let me live life for now, until... it is time…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-8035237818905909003?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/8035237818905909003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=8035237818905909003' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/8035237818905909003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/8035237818905909003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2009/04/livelest-you-die.html' title='Live...lest you die...'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-9108385550396365394</id><published>2009-03-18T17:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T17:33:21.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Picture</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/ScGSD97x0JI/AAAAAAAAAEs/wmYgz3V8zWI/s1600-h/FatherAndSonFishingCleaned.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 263px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/ScGSD97x0JI/AAAAAAAAAEs/wmYgz3V8zWI/s320/FatherAndSonFishingCleaned.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314689632136450194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PART ONE – FATHER TO SON...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look into my eyes, my son, don’t you look away&lt;br /&gt;Come out from that shadow, come into the ray&lt;br /&gt;Its been a hard life for you, you know I understand&lt;br /&gt;You were in the sea out there, lets get you back to land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is it with your eyes, my son, why are they so red?&lt;br /&gt;Is it the hate that you carry, or the tears that you’ve shed?&lt;br /&gt;You don’t need either, because neither of them, is you&lt;br /&gt;Leave them all behind, my son, and start over new&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at the picture over there, hanging on your wall&lt;br /&gt;Lets walk into the picture, and walk beyond the wall&lt;br /&gt;Breathe in all the blue, my son, and sit on all the green&lt;br /&gt;It is not just a picture, this is where you had been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before the day you left my hand, and went away from sight&lt;br /&gt;And ran beyond the picture, ran beyond the light&lt;br /&gt;I do not care about that, now that you are here&lt;br /&gt;Back into the picture, long way away from fear&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-9108385550396365394?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/9108385550396365394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=9108385550396365394' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/9108385550396365394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/9108385550396365394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2009/03/picture.html' title='The Picture'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/ScGSD97x0JI/AAAAAAAAAEs/wmYgz3V8zWI/s72-c/FatherAndSonFishingCleaned.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-5821947715196857455</id><published>2008-11-11T07:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T06:08:22.035-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thoughts'/><title type='text'>Fade Away….</title><content type='html'>Drops pelting down a broken pane&lt;br /&gt;Leaves falling down an empty lane        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Green fading away, Black creeping in&lt;br /&gt;Good wilting away, doors open to sin&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Empty stomach, makes no sound&lt;br /&gt;The hungry heart cries out loud&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Cry no more, these walls don’t hear&lt;br /&gt;Shout no more, No one’s near&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A drop of water, a sea of blood&lt;br /&gt;The smell of sweat, the taste of mud&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Soul searching within a crowd? Don’t&lt;br /&gt;There’s no music, there’s just sound.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;People moving fast, out of sight&lt;br /&gt;Days drowning away into night&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Yes, there will come the day I fear.&lt;br /&gt;Yet I don’t move, I stay right here &lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Tears pouring down withered eyes&lt;br /&gt;Body lives on, soul dies...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-5821947715196857455?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/5821947715196857455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=5821947715196857455' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/5821947715196857455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/5821947715196857455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2008/11/fade-away.html' title='Fade Away….'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-2352667930080306511</id><published>2008-11-05T05:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T05:48:49.537-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cricket and I …</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SRGkMOZ67yI/AAAAAAAAADY/Y2CNonDGSog/s1600-h/cricket.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SRGkMOZ67yI/AAAAAAAAADY/Y2CNonDGSog/s200/cricket.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265169969305022242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Fahd and I sat down for our usual late night chat. We were discussing Kumble’s retirement. I started thinking about cricket on the whole and what meant for me. There was a time when cricket was all we lived for. Kumble’s retirement has left yet another big hole in my ever depreciating love for the game. Two names I’ve been hearing since the very word “cricket”, Sachin and Kumble. Yes, it might be time for them to hang up their shoes, but with their retirement, they also take away what I felt for the game.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I slowly realized that these heroes are what bound me to the game, rather than the game itself. That explains my change of feelings from fanatic to just a watcher.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I know the day is not far away when Sachin, Dravid and Laxman would call it quits, they ideally should, but then they are the only ones left who never fail to take me back to my fanatic days.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;There are many glorious moments of the game that still lingers in my mind. It takes me back to my school days when I used to walk, talk, eat and sleep cricket. I hope Dhoni’s boys manage to re create the magic that I used to associate with Indian cricket some time ago. I wish I could get back to those crazy days.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The days when:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Sachin      murdered each person who challenged him verbally or with provocative      antics, examples being Henry Olonga, Michael Kasprovich, Andy Caddick,      Azhar Mahmood and numerous others. Don’t ever challenge Sachin if you      don’t want to see your bowls in the parking lot, as Caddick found out in      the ’99 World Cup.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;    &lt;ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Venkatesh      Prasad got back at Aamir Sohail’s smirk by showing him the way to the      pavilion after clean bowling him in the Quarter Final of the ’96 World      Cup.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;    &lt;ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Ajay      Jadeja blasted 40 runs of&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;2 Waqar      Younis overs.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;    &lt;ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Saurav      Ganguly and Rahul Dravid made a mockery of Sri Lankan Bowling attack in      the ’99 World Cup. Ganguly scored 183 and Dravid 145. I ended up feeling      sorry for the Lankans.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;    &lt;ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Warne      looked down in despair at being mercilessly thrashed by Sachin and Co. The      Masters of Spin.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;    &lt;ul style="margin-top: 0in;" type="disc"&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Kumble      was hailed as the one among the greatest after scalping a perfect 10      against &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Pakistan&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;These were the golden days of Indian cricket for me. We may have lost a lot, but there were victories which made us all forget them and forgive our heroes.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;For now, all I can say is that I wish the guys all the best and that someday I’ll get back my lost love for cricket. Until then, let me go watch the good ole days on You tube…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-2352667930080306511?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/2352667930080306511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=2352667930080306511' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/2352667930080306511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/2352667930080306511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2008/11/cricket-and-i.html' title='Cricket and I …'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SRGkMOZ67yI/AAAAAAAAADY/Y2CNonDGSog/s72-c/cricket.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-6062666351971222792</id><published>2008-10-22T02:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T04:27:06.282-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cricket'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LifeBlog'/><title type='text'>A TEST TO REMEMBER..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SP70wvj_gQI/AAAAAAAAADI/VG74MxIMd78/s1600-h/photo.cms.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SP70wvj_gQI/AAAAAAAAADI/VG74MxIMd78/s200/photo.cms.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259910533053645058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Yesterday was a historic day for Indian cricket. &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; posted their biggest test win against the Aussies. Even better, Aussies are sulking real bad. Ponting seems to think Indians crossed the fine sledging line. This statement is coming from Aussie Captain Ricky Ponting. I mean Aussies are the inventors of sledging and yesterday Ponting invented the fine line too.&lt;/p&gt;A lot of good things to note…    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ganguly, playing his last series, scored a century making his exit worth remembering. He will be missed. Atta boy Dada..&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sachin surpassed Lara’s record to become the highest run scorer in Tests.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Zaheer is back to his old swinging days, taking wickets at will.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Dhoni leading the way with good scores in both innings and an awesome attitude as captain. Well done sir.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Contributions from Gambhir, Sehwag, Bajji, Ishant, Mishra…&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Anyways, the media is all over the men in blue again. Showering praises for Dhoni’s lot like never before. Haven’t we seen this before? &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am posting this coz I wanna see how long it takes for the next one. Hope it doesn’t take too long. As of now…congrats guys…keep it going…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-6062666351971222792?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/6062666351971222792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=6062666351971222792' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/6062666351971222792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/6062666351971222792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2008/10/test-to-remember.html' title='A TEST TO REMEMBER..'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SP70wvj_gQI/AAAAAAAAADI/VG74MxIMd78/s72-c/photo.cms.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-6267915095958788180</id><published>2008-10-21T05:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T04:26:38.596-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LifeBlog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chelsea'/><title type='text'>October 18th 2008</title><content type='html'>Dark Chocolate Cake…&lt;br /&gt;Snaps with the gang…&lt;br /&gt;Calls…&lt;br /&gt;Unboxing the Xbox…&lt;br /&gt;Chicken biriyani…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Chelsea&lt;/st1:city&gt; beating &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Middlesbrough&lt;/st1:place&gt; 5 – 0…&lt;br /&gt;“Welcome to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Stamford&lt;/st1:placename&gt;  &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Bridge&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;” T shirt…&lt;br /&gt;Sleep…    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Perfect…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Happy Birthday to me…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-6267915095958788180?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/6267915095958788180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=6267915095958788180' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/6267915095958788180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/6267915095958788180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2008/10/october-18th-2008.html' title='October 18th 2008'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-8011234393563459421</id><published>2008-10-10T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T06:09:48.314-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><title type='text'>LESSONS – 2</title><content type='html'>You know your way. You are happy.&lt;br /&gt;People, for some reason, think you are not.&lt;br /&gt;They make you believe you’re wrong.&lt;br /&gt;But you listen to them. After all, it’s for your own good right?      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You decide on taking the way they show you.&lt;br /&gt;You manage to be happy, yet again. Good for you.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Not so fast sucker.&lt;br /&gt;People aren’t done yet.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“What’s the rush?”, they ask.“Have you thought about it? “ (The nerve)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Guess what??? They don’t think it’s such a good idea.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Let me analyze then.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You have one leg in the path you used to love (not so much anymore)&lt;br /&gt;You have the other leg in the path you wanna take (not so much anymore)&lt;br /&gt;And they are movin further away.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And you my friend, are fucked nice and clean.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Life’s valuable lesson: when you know where you are going, don’t look sideways. You’ll come across people holding the Weapon Of Ass Destruction…ADVICE….&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Wish it wasn’t free. Life would’ve been a stroll. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-8011234393563459421?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/8011234393563459421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=8011234393563459421' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/8011234393563459421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/8011234393563459421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2008/10/lessons-that-life-teaches-you-2.html' title='LESSONS – 2'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-188645635194887442</id><published>2008-09-24T07:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T04:27:35.786-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thoughts'/><title type='text'>LIGHTS FROM HEAVEN</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SNpQMPlNzeI/AAAAAAAAACY/-MMV9OISWT0/s1600-h/1157379333.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SNpQMPlNzeI/AAAAAAAAACY/-MMV9OISWT0/s320/1157379333.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249596486925012450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I remember almost breaking my nose falling from our giant mango tree. Well, I deserved to fall...coz I was stupid enough to climb tree trunks in the dark. My explanation – chasing fireflies!!! To be frank I wouldn't mind falling all over again if it meant catching hold of one of those beauties. As a kid the fascination I had for fireflies was beyond my fascination for anything I want to acquire today.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The giant mango tree we have in our house used to be a treat for the eyes at night with hundreds of fireflies decorating it. I would chase them till I hurt myself or till my mother hurt me (the latter was more common). On one of the lucky days I would even see them in my room. When I would eventually catch one of them I would close my palms on it and just admire the beauty of God's tiny little creation. As a kid, I always thought that fireflies popped out of heaven...how else would you explain the light??&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The other day I was reading an article about fireflies being on the road to extinction, thanks to unfavorable habitat. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The article explained why the mango tree remained dark the last time I looked at it. There I was, standing beneath the massive trunk. My eyes craving for fluorescence, my heart aching for re living memories...re living the Good ole' days...three words that never cease to bring a smile on my face. &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;Alas.&lt;/st1:state&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;..All that met my eyes were darkness of the darkest kind... &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Thoughts and memories can be reflected in writing...depth of these feelings cannot...intensity of these emotions cannot...&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Maybe this is the way of life for our generation...witnessing the loss of everything around us...everything... but us...This isn’t about fireflies...This is about every little thing that is the very essence of life...we lose these... We lose the essence...&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I hope to open my eyes one day to the sight of fireflies greeting me...telling me they were not done yet.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Something tells me my hope is in vain...&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;For now, I can see the day when I’ll tell my kids stories about little flies that glowed with light illuminating everything around them...They would surely ask where the fireflies went.. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;"Well, they went back to heaven...right where they came from", would be my answer.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-188645635194887442?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/188645635194887442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=188645635194887442' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/188645635194887442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/188645635194887442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2008/09/lights-from-heaven.html' title='LIGHTS FROM HEAVEN'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SNpQMPlNzeI/AAAAAAAAACY/-MMV9OISWT0/s72-c/1157379333.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-1631807752866879081</id><published>2008-09-24T03:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T06:09:23.439-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lessons'/><title type='text'>LESSONS – 1</title><content type='html'>DRIFTS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drift into modes….&lt;br /&gt;I drift into thoughts…&lt;br /&gt;I sit back… Aaahhh…comfort….&lt;br /&gt;I smile…thinking I’ve hit jack pot…I lie down…&lt;br /&gt;let the pleasure of knowing I’ve got it all planned sink in…&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm….my eyes close …(please don’t!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drift…yet again…&lt;br /&gt;OMG…not the thoughts again…&lt;br /&gt;Never the less….lemme think …&lt;br /&gt;Where was I??..Oh ya…I’ve hit jackpot…or…have I???&lt;br /&gt;Is it piss? Pouring down my pants??? Ha….I wish…&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;It’s the pleasure of knowing I’ve got it all planned…&lt;br /&gt;I sit back… yet again… minus the comfort&lt;br /&gt;And learn yet another of life’s valuable lessons…    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When you hit jack pot…STOP FRICKIN THINKIN!!!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-1631807752866879081?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/1631807752866879081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=1631807752866879081' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/1631807752866879081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/1631807752866879081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2008/09/drifts.html' title='LESSONS – 1'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-1491889636708419313</id><published>2008-06-26T08:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T10:01:51.663-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thoughts'/><title type='text'>COME...WALK WITH ME</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SGjfcOpJXFI/AAAAAAAAAAo/EIGsa960tYE/s1600-h/oldbench1600wl0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SGjfcOpJXFI/AAAAAAAAAAo/EIGsa960tYE/s320/oldbench1600wl0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217665844368727122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Come along, take a walk with me&lt;br /&gt;a walk down a trodden lane&lt;br /&gt;this walk may give me the answers&lt;br /&gt;this walk may break the chain          &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I dare not take this walk alone&lt;br /&gt;I dare not, lest I get scared&lt;br /&gt;I've never taken walks alone&lt;br /&gt;I've never ever dared&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I know I've been there before&lt;br /&gt;coz it’s all coming back&lt;br /&gt;I can see the pandemonium&lt;br /&gt;like darkness through a crack&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Help me with these first steps&lt;br /&gt;The trip ahead is long&lt;br /&gt;Talk me thru these first steps&lt;br /&gt;or maybe... sing me a song&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What do you see round the corner?&lt;br /&gt;coz I think I see light&lt;br /&gt;Just can’t wait to get there&lt;br /&gt;It’s been a really long night&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I'm feeling a lot better now&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I took this walk&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for all your songs&lt;br /&gt;and thanks for all the talk&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You've been there through the dark&lt;br /&gt;Now stay with me while it’s bright&lt;br /&gt;Then I'd know your not leaving&lt;br /&gt;coz then it'd never be night..&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Now that we've reached this place&lt;br /&gt;Please… don’t let go of me&lt;br /&gt;Coz I've walked right into your heart&lt;br /&gt;Right where I want to be.. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-1491889636708419313?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/1491889636708419313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=1491889636708419313' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/1491889636708419313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/1491889636708419313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2008/06/comewalk-with-me.html' title='COME...WALK WITH ME'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SGjfcOpJXFI/AAAAAAAAAAo/EIGsa960tYE/s72-c/oldbench1600wl0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-4682837110268757642</id><published>2008-06-20T07:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T10:01:51.875-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thoughts'/><title type='text'>WHERE ARE THE KIDS?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SGjkuqZhPBI/AAAAAAAAAA4/nO_uwcSFliM/s1600-h/772409055.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SGjkuqZhPBI/AAAAAAAAAA4/nO_uwcSFliM/s320/772409055.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217671658615159826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I remember feeling restless in class. Looking at my watch every other second, cursing at the hands that told me there was still time.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I would run the instant the bell rang. Smelling the air of freedom at last, running to catch the first bus I could. The conductor never liked me, or any other kid who used student concessions, but I dint care. The hate was mutual. I’d jump down the bus, run home, throw my bag and run to the place I loved. The lush green ground that spread far and wide, the dark brown pitch in the center, the guys sitting on the neighboring fence (this was the fence to my house by the way...my mom never appreciated this...I could never understand what the fuss was about)...&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I would be tensed as to whether I’d get a chance to play. The first twenty two lucky ones could play. I remember not being that good, cutting any chances of reservation in the team. The joy if I got to play, the dejection if I didn’t. Emotion in either case was strong for the 14 year old in me. The little kid who was tired of the bag of books that was just a little less heavy than him, the prick who loathed special classes (and normal classes for that matter) , the clean bath's, the homework and everything his mom thought was good for him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Today I miss the nasty prick. I wish I cud meet him again. Maybe I could find him in the kids who have taken over.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I was back home after 5 years of college. I had my evening tea and walked out, seeing if I fall upon anything interesting to pass time. I walk through the ground once again. This time, there was not a soul in sight.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Where were the kids?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I saw them in the end.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I was wrong about finding myself in them after all. There they were, fiddling with their fancy gadgets; hi end mobile phones and mp3 players, all the joys of the world in the palm of their hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What went wrong? What changed them?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;They do not know the joys hidden in the heavenly green ground that is waiting for their running feet …or they just choose to ignore.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What ever the reason, I pray for them, I pray for their lost innocence. I pray for us.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Most of all… I pray for the little boy in me....the boy who wants to play.&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-4682837110268757642?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/4682837110268757642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=4682837110268757642' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/4682837110268757642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/4682837110268757642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2008/06/where-are-kids.html' title='WHERE ARE THE KIDS?'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SGjkuqZhPBI/AAAAAAAAAA4/nO_uwcSFliM/s72-c/772409055.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4722865148580733764.post-1356618748178478522</id><published>2008-06-18T06:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T10:01:52.206-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thoughts'/><title type='text'>EMPTY SPACES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SGjmqwtTFdI/AAAAAAAAABA/coV12NRAEG8/s1600-h/1774581939.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SGjmqwtTFdI/AAAAAAAAABA/coV12NRAEG8/s320/1774581939.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217673790612510162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Why do we use spaces on the World Wide Web to unleash our thoughts? Why do we shed all our inhibitions here? The good in us, the bad in us, the never ending nothingness that covers the best years of our lives. It’s all dumped here...on the black, green and blue pages we call blogs.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Why do we prefer these spaces to people?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I say it’s because it’s too damn easy...&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The complexity we've gotten ourselves into...the world we've made for us...the fake plastic faces we've mastered...the immensely talented actors in us...we are the architects of our world where we seem to think we care. But do we? We do not mind the tear drops that finds its way onto the l's m's and o's of the keyboard. But even one drop gets heavy when it comes in vicinity of people. People who supposedly understand....we still think we do...we know the truth. We all do. Yet we do not stop. Ultimately we realize it. Then we turn to these blank spaces.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;These spaces do not understand us. These spaces do not care...but at least these spaces listen.&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;We write...with the faint hope that maybe we'll find the understanding that we crave for...after all...these spaces are common to people. People we are scared of. May these spaces bridge the distance between us...and leave no spaces. Amen.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And thus I am turning to the World Wide Web with my trash...because I’m no different...we are all the same…&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4722865148580733764-1356618748178478522?l=niyadspeaks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/feeds/1356618748178478522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4722865148580733764&amp;postID=1356618748178478522' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/1356618748178478522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4722865148580733764/posts/default/1356618748178478522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://niyadspeaks.blogspot.com/2008/06/empty-spaces.html' title='EMPTY SPACES'/><author><name>Niyad</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07529025664770652264</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SEVnHB7rWII/AAAAAAAAAAM/DRM0G5XU4Og/S220/ATgAAAC1P5r4imYq9Z09vk9KqeYsqRQS5sh7SFqPp8KHmtFNYA2Qj6RLHYwF0QpNabT2Pjyn_IPoh0_w3J8A5ASpsIa0AJtU9VBGC_ZD1Oflx4fvvxmVwCEhanAs8Q.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MggJnhwxrs/SGjmqwtTFdI/AAAAAAAAABA/coV12NRAEG8/s72-c/1774581939.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
