<?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-1206347424642263252</id><updated>2012-02-16T15:00:43.919+05:30</updated><category term='Random'/><category term='Childhood'/><category term='Laugh'/><category term='Moscow'/><category term='Freedom'/><category term='Manchester United'/><category term='Wannabe Writer'/><category term='Cinema'/><category term='Fatima Bhutto'/><category term='Geek'/><category term='Chetan Bhagat'/><category term='LASIK'/><category term='Metal'/><category term='Loser'/><category term='Nightmare'/><category term='Forrest Gump'/><category term='Two Disgusting 19 Year Old Males'/><category term='Pride'/><category term='CET'/><category term='Champions League'/><category term='Tom Hanks'/><category term='Love'/><category term='Escape'/><category term='Indo-Pak Friendship'/><category term='Routine'/><category term='Marriage etc etc'/><category term='Rant'/><category term='Letter.'/><category term='Plantfuckers'/><category term='Idiots'/><category term='Movies'/><category term='time table'/><category term='Closet'/><category term='Old Friend'/><title type='text'>The Creaky Staircase</title><subtitle type='html'>I am not Funny. Funny is not me. I am not Sarcastic Either.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>34</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-1843160154908781871</id><published>2010-06-08T07:01:00.011+05:30</published><updated>2010-11-01T20:20:56.886+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Escape'/><title type='text'>Drunk Journeyman</title><content type='html'>Its almost dusk and my eyes wanders on in the evergreen wilderness looking for nothing in particular. I absently run my fingers down my almost bare scalp with one hand and hold on to the metallic cold of the balcony railings with the other as I watch the evening sky illuminated by the last embers of the brilliant red sun progressively devoured by the ample horizon. In the background, Kurt Cobain croons about a love gone wrong. Like sour milk whose unpleasant taste lingers on your tongue long after it has been spit out. Like the residues of human emotion that might have cunningly managed to find a secret crevice in the soul to hide in and surrender itself only when copious amounts of alcohol has flooded your heart completely and forced them out of their hiding place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as random and abstract thoughts manifest themselves in my mind, I realize that I have grown tired of a lot of things. I am tired of long drawn out semesters. I am tired of the demanding exams, the bland lifestyle and the mundane routine. I am tired to being confined by chains of obligation and duty to everyone and everything around me. My misplaced sense of generosity coupled with the quest for a secure future has led me to give up everything that defines the very essence of life. I am tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clichéd as it may sound, I just want my life back. I want the boring drone of continual routine to go away to be replaced forever by the voice of Ronnie James Dio. Man ! Listening to his voice gets me high and I haven’t felt that sort of high for quite sometime. I sometimes wonder if I could just summon up the courage to leave everything and go traveling. And every time out of the sometime, a voice in my head tells me to do the sensible thing. That is why the voice of reason is like a nagging wife. And Alcohol is divorce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there I was three hours later, deep into my divorce with reason when everything came together in one very clear moment. And it was this moment of clarity where it all played out in front of me and in my state of gross intoxication I understood that all I wanted at this point of time was to go on a journey. The Rum was strong but the desire stronger still. I don’t want my life to go as it was supposed to go. In some ways I wanted to be the like the young Ernesto Guevara who kept his graduation on hold, to traverse along the length of South America on his La Poderosa. I want to have that courage and that belief to go all the way through with it. I want to script my own Motorcycle Diaries and I don’t want my life to come to a point when i have just about run out of emotions and desperate to feel something, anything that i keep falling into someone and fucking our way to the end of days. I dont know what happened to the grand plans which consisted of phrases like 'wind in my hair' ,'adrenalin rush' and 'nomadic life'. I guess they are dead and buried deep under the colossal weight of everyday life. Like it never existed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe its just the Rum talking. Maybe its the voices in my head. Maybe its Kurt Cobain.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe another drink will make it clear.&lt;br /&gt;"Bhaiyya, Glass Refill Karo."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-1843160154908781871?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/1843160154908781871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=1843160154908781871' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/1843160154908781871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/1843160154908781871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2010/06/journeyman.html' title='Drunk Journeyman'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-3313596846520857468</id><published>2010-06-01T16:34:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-11-01T20:18:43.148+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wannabe Writer'/><title type='text'>The Creaky Staircase</title><content type='html'>BEFORE IT BEGAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Rohit Saha. I am 18 years old, with no clear idea of my future, or indeed much of anything else. After 2 idle and slightly bookish years in a modern and well developed part of suberbian Bombay, I had developed an aversion to the world of careers and jobs which, I was destined to join. As I left my carefree high school days behind me, a plethora of endless questions stared me in the face .Each one more unsettling than the other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My high school days were not the greatest. Particularly due to the fact that it overflowed with bespectacled nerds and unlike what the insane number of mediocre, predictable and mind numbing chick flicks would tell you, it’s the ‘Cool’ people who were among the minority. I personally found it to be a strange strange place. The liberty given in the same place a year ago was cruelly snatched away and probably remained chained in some dusty old dungeon for the whole of the two years that we were there. I always hoped that it would do an ‘Edmond Dantes’ but that never happened. The playful chatter of the corridor was replaced forever by an eerie stillness broken only by the dull grumbling drone of overworked students. They told us that it was time to get serious and do something with your life. I never listened. My delusions had me convinced that life always unfolds like a Tarantino movie, chapter by chapter and at the end when everything goes to shit, things miraculously fall into place. I would later realize that life is not as primitive as seen through the eyes of an overindulgent, pop culture obsessed and twisted American filmmaker .Far from it actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My personal expectations of high school had been of freedom, merriment and living life on the edge. Clichéd as they may seem, it seemed a natural progression into the forbidden world which I had been long since denied entry by means of an impassive voice in my head telling me that ‘ you are not old enough, wait till you are in high school.’ After you enter high school , the impassive voice continued to haunt me but the words had changed to ‘Time to build a future.’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe these well meaning voices did not resonate too loudly in my head as it did with most others but not unlike millions of other slightly better than average Indian students, who go out through revolving door of uncertainty each year, I was unknowingly dragged into the mindless rat race of Engineering Entrance Exams . It was one of those things my febrile mind was always unable to comprehend .All around me people were one by one giving up everything that made living worthwhile, for a BTech degree on their future resumes, which would apparently pull their families out of their relatively meaningless lives of middle class obscurity and have their future mother-in-laws and her bitchy gossip mongering mates in bouts of multiple orgasms. The whole dynamic mechanism of thinking made me really curious but I guess all ‘their’ curiousity was duly exercised in seemingly pointless things which had something to do with stuff like Schrödinger’s Equation and Planck’s constant. It wouldn’t be an understatement to say that , those days in my class, a Second Order Differential Equation could give more guys a hard-on than Pamela Anderson bouncing along the beach in her customary red swimsuit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as Engineering was concerned, I couldn’t give two shits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life as an eighteen year old did not revolve around Study Time Tables, Early morning revision, or making furious mechanical notes in classrooms to the extent that a sneeze from the Teacher would duly be jotted down as ‘Acchoo’ in those well manicured notebooks. Life back then was all about being the quintessential teenager. It was about doing things your own way. It was about being different and standing out from the crowd. It was about being your own master. It was about showing the finger to anyone who disagreed to that. It was about wearing ripped jeans, having outrageous hair and getting at people’s faces. It was about wanting to smoke pot and quoting Bob Dylan’s lyrics in every other sentence. It was about talking like Jules Winnfield and dancing like John Travolta. It was about playing Children of Bodom in full volume and watching the neighbours freak out. It was about thinking that the sun shined out of your arsehole and how every creature in this planet were the functions of a single variable called ‘my whims and fancies’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then all of a sudden you grow up and all the little myths that your naïve and deluded teenage mind had created vanish faster than blow in a Kurt Cobain concert. This growing up, is also called ‘point of realization’ in several cultures and this symbolic rock hit me with the force of a fusion bomb knocking me unconscious into the grimy and slippery world of repentance and all I could tell myself was , “Fuck ! I should have started studying a couple of months ago.” It was January, and the immense course of ISC was staring at me like a Spider stares at its entangled prey, though my Biology teacher would love to point out that the above expression is not entirely correct on the account of Spiders having ‘compound’ eyes hence its viewing power is limited only to looking at mosaics and then using its highly evil brain to figure out the rest. But that again is a totally different matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there I was, a month from the Board exams, blissfully clueless of everything. One day later, I was quite literally shitting bricks. I did not think it was humanely possible to finish the course of an academic year in a month. The impossibility of it all reminded me of the plot in Tom Cruise’s highly mediocre and mind numbing popcorn flick which had become a raging success all over the world. All that the fucker had to do aside from looking pretty, was to kill these highly dangerous evil agents and in the process, save the world. I had a harder task at hand. It was called Organic Chemistry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man in his life sometimes encounters certain things which seemingly possess a curious power of making his balls shrivel up and die. Obviously this much fabled ‘thing’ depends on a lot of variables ranging from his age to his mental state of mind and this generally changes from person to person. I believe that in Organic Chemistry, I had met my maker. Already a couple of months behind schedule, the various permutation and combinations of bonded carbon and hydrogen had well and truly made me their bitch. Add a bit of nitrogen to all that and you have the human brain going tits up and human heart wanting nothing but sweet release.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now began to look upto all these people who I had secretly laughed at for so long. I laughed at them for spending the best years of their life amidst books. I had laughed at them for not knowing what it was to get high to Jim Morrison’s voice. I sneered at their bad luck for not having chanced upon the intoxicating combination of Vodka and Pink Floyd. I pitied them for not having the balls to experience the wonderful tricks that Marijuana could play with the nervous system. I grinned to myself as I spotted their school pants pulled up almost to their nipples and wondered if these dudes would one day go on to make it big and then buy out some big fashion house and then proceed to finance a whole new geekosexual ‘low chest’ revolution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Great Bengali Philosopher had once spoken of the equal proportions of laughter and tears in life. The Buddhists essentially say the same thing but have renamed it ‘Karma’. Whatever it was, it was behaving like an epic bitch with me. It now became clear to as why the geeks never retaliated. Oppressed for centuries it would seem rather odd that they have not yet given up their pens and taken up pick-axes. I was always of the belief that the Apocalypse that they spoke of, was nothing but the time when the normal population would suander past the elastic limit of the geek community, causing a great power struggle and finally resulting in a epic Mordor-like battle leading to the end of the world as we know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks later as I sat wriggling in my seat, writing the paper in the hot sultry afternoon air, my condition worsened with every passing question and I was no longer able to dodge the volley of never ending bullets shooting out from the Chemistry exam paper. I now started to realize why the geeks would never retaliate. I now began to understand as to why my half baked theory of Apocalypse was nothing but an epic failure. It was in these unsuspecting places like examination halls that they have their revenge. As I stumbled out, physically injured and mentally mortified at the cruel torture that was so remorselessly bestowed upon me, I doubted if I would last the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hit the bed, closed my eyes and the last sounds that resonated in my ears were slow and measured chanting in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“His name was Robert Paulson.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-3313596846520857468?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/3313596846520857468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=3313596846520857468' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/3313596846520857468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/3313596846520857468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2010/01/creaky-staircase-chapter-1.html' title='The Creaky Staircase'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-3423192494552472386</id><published>2010-04-11T08:43:00.019+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-12T18:16:25.857+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Indo-Pak Friendship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage etc etc'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fatima Bhutto'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>Current Affairs</title><content type='html'>Okay, i am not much of a current affairs guy.I do not enjoy writing about them and I have figured that there are enough morons in blogsphere to do that anyway. Most of them are stupid, droll and take themselves too seriously. They go on and on about some self righteous issue based garbage that no one reads except like minded thickos . They are football's equivalent to Liverpool. As much fun as watching shit dry on a stick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the past week or so, the rags and the idiot box have been incessantly informing the world that an exceedingly dumb cricketer and an exceedingly busty tennis player from neighbouring 'enemy' countries are getting married. I called the man 'dumb' because he wanted to get married to some random chick in a photograph and that too at the ripe old age of 21. Dude, seriously ? 1950s got over a long time ago. Times have changed. Most people of the generation who believed that they were marrying a human being solely on the base of photographic evidence have long since left for their heavenly abode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, After the initial announcement was made, the skeletons in the closet had something of a huge drinking session in broad daylight. Accusation and counter accusations flew around like a Tennis ball in a Wimbledon final of Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi and it all culminated with the 'Ex' (who weighs approximately 2 Tonnes) grabbing the bowler by his balls and with a grip so strong that it had the former Pakistan Skipper squealing like a little girl. The Tennis player with her ample bosom, fake accent and ever-growing love handles could only watch as her man conceded advantage and match point to who can best be described as the Queen Latifah of celebrity scandals. As Rio Ferdinand would say, He well and truly got Merk'd"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The press had a field day and maybe it was kinda fun to follow the whole case in the newspapers but In the words of a man much more 'awesome' than me,&lt;br /&gt;"It was toilet bound paper."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S- Marry me Fatima Bhutto!&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-3423192494552472386?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/3423192494552472386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=3423192494552472386' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/3423192494552472386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/3423192494552472386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2010/04/current-affairs.html' title='Current Affairs'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-999179946110323045</id><published>2010-03-09T18:06:00.009+05:30</published><updated>2010-03-09T18:46:09.311+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Things You Will Never Say When You Are Drunk</title><content type='html'>1. No thanks, I'm already seeing someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Nope, no more alcohol for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Sorry, but you're not really my type.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I am a horrible horrible singer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. We can't have sex now because i forgot the condoms at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Where is the nearest bathroom? I refuse to pee on the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Sir, I'm not looking to pick a fight with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. When it comes to women, i have standards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. You drive. I am drunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I must be getting home now, I have college tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-999179946110323045?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/999179946110323045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=999179946110323045' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/999179946110323045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/999179946110323045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2010/03/things-you-will-never-say-when-you-are.html' title='Things You Will Never Say When You Are Drunk'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-6647466387134332401</id><published>2010-02-28T13:20:00.013+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-28T18:01:27.602+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>Just My Thoughts.</title><content type='html'>I have recently found myself in company with loads of free time. Aside from gawking at hot females on the street and solving intergalactic space crime, life has been pretty uneventful. I have hence retreated back to the shadowy unknown where i chanced upon the scantily clad Cohen sisters dancing around the eight armed Albino Goddess. They sensed my eyes all over their gyrating bodies and invited me over by means of a slow and periodic curling motion of their index fingers. I was startled and offered to show them my book collection and thats when the cruel laughter began. Everything started to dissolve and I woke up drenched in my own sweat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="status-body"&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;Its a great day. Sunny and everything. Birds are happy and doing it furiously against the A/C. I am sure you are here for your customary pearls of wisdom and with great difficulty i resist the temptation of free early morning feather porn , and talk to about you issues that are currently going on in this head of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;I have just discovered that i am a bit shite at  posing for photo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="UIStory_Message"&gt;graphs .Can never get the balance right between cheesy  grin and comical expression of faked astonishment. End up looking  borderline retarded and it happens every fucking time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="status-body"&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I think Porn gives us men lots of unrealistic expectations. For starters you cannot be ugly as pig shit and have women as hot as that sleep with you in every position imaginable ! I really had no idea knew that a Pizza delivery uniform can evoke that much feminine passion. Also, women have to lower their expectations and come around to the fac&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="status-body"&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;t that not every naked man has dragon tattoos on his back and an organ the size of Chile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The Earth is millions of years old and it seems rather silly to celebrate one year. Bit like having a countdown every time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; i go to for a piss. And making resolutions is just plain retarded. "I will get a girlfriend,  i will get laid , i will get a job and i will cut my nails regularly." Fuck off ! You are the same person and nothing has changed except a digit on the date. If you were incompetent, lazy, fat, stupid or ugly, chances are that the changing digit on the date wont change any of that. Either get a brain or a personality transplant or simply quit it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- People who continuously and compulsively apologize for trivial mistakes piss me off. You are sorry , he gets it. For God's sake you spilled a glass of water, not fucked his mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- If I were gay, I would ask out Al Pacino. If i were gay and retarded, i would cheat on Cheryl Tweedy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-6647466387134332401?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/6647466387134332401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=6647466387134332401' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/6647466387134332401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/6647466387134332401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2010/02/just-my-thoughts.html' title='Just My Thoughts.'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-1778128349465782922</id><published>2010-02-11T11:07:00.022+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-12T13:48:42.154+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Geek'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Closet'/><title type='text'>Coming Out Of The Closet</title><content type='html'>'Geek' is not a word people would generally associate me with. I am highly certain if people i went to high school with, were questioned , they would probably raise their eyebrows, give you an incredulous look and between loud snorts of derision, tell you that you are a 'fucking idiot' and point out to you the error of your ways . Most would prefer remembering me by adjectives like 'rebel' or 'wierdo' but a few lowlives who still bear a misplaced sense of animosity would label me with various uncomplimentary names like a 'Hairy Assbandit'. I kindly request you to ignore them and push them off a mountain cliff. Or better, Set their Irodov textbooks on fire. That would anyways have them jumping off the cliffs voluntarily, Hee hee .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after much thought and much less action, i have decided to let this be the day that i come out of the closet . I am tempted to deliver a Bill Pullman's Independence Day like speech but i shall refrain for the sake of your sanity  and in an attempt to banish your growing sense of disbelief, i shall list to you, things that you barely know about me thus establishing without a shadow of doubt, the extreme levels of geekosterone in my being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I read the first 4 Harry Potter books, like 20 times each. I used to steal broomsticks from the house and take them to a secret place. I would then sit on one of them , constantly kicking the ground like an stupid retard . Mom was confused when she saw ' Firebolt' engraved in one of the brooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Wanted to enact the part of 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' in some shitty play in class, when a female ( now a very good friend) looked at me with disdain and said , "Excuse me ? But wasnt Tom Riddle supposed to be good looking ?" ( Still hurts btw)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Used to trade Pokemon cards with like minded people and i remember telling people off from stealing other people's cards because its not a good thing to do morally and how cards were exactly like Pokemon and you cannot engineer a healty level of mutual trust, admiration and love with stolen cards. Apparently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Once, my anger caused me to curse one of my fellow classmates. I lost control as i picked up my pen, shouting at the top of my lungs " You will pay for this, you bastard." and then pointed the pen at his chest and cried, ' Petrificus Totalus'. Nothing happened and i felt like an idiot . Cried myself to sleep that night because this incident had well and try proved that i was nothing but a fucking Muggle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I once weighed myself before and after taking a dump. The only conclusion i came to was that i needed an instrument with a much lesser 'least count'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Whenever alone, used to borrow the leg of some broken chair, strutting around like Gandalf the Grey complete with his staff . Scared the shit out of my brother once , when i duplicated the epic ' You shall not pass ! ' with the leg of a wooden chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Thought i was as cool as Samuel L Jackson, when i scratched out the ' DO NOT' in the 'Please Do Not Scratch, Scribble Or By Any Other Means, Spoil The Lift.' Got caught the next day trying to add some finishing touches to my 'work' and my dad had to pay the fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Half created a Marauder's map of Singhania and spent more than a month searching for a Chamber Of Secrets in the school. Went to every basin in the school and made hissing noises. People thought i was retarded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Wanted to do a Gollum and address my first love letter as ' My Preciousssss.' Thought better of it. Fortunately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Choke Slammed a very good friend ( who was an bellend back then) on the teacher's table because he described 'Chris Jericho's entry music as 'tripe'. " Take that you prick !" I remember screaming after i slammed the poor motherfucker, "And you dont say shit about Jericho. Like Ever !"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Some snake obsessed black magic practising classmate made voodoos of me ( No kidding) because i had apparently pissed him off in some way . One day, i felt his highly evil gaze on me and my stomach started paining real bad. I was convinced that i was completely under his 'spell' and so i tore a paper and wrote my will, donating my books to the charity and making my brother the rightful heir to my epic collection of Pokemon Cards, Tazos and Video games . The pain increased with every passing moment till i got home and took a dump.&lt;br /&gt;My brother was not best pleased.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I once celebrated scoring a decent goal by doing a Jack Sparrow impersonation of 'Where is all the Rum gone ?' . My team mates asked me if i was on my period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Threatened to actually skin a person alive and eat his liver with pineapple jam, when he mentioned something along the lines of Samwise Gamgee and Frodo harbouring sexual feelings for each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Duplicated Ruud Van Nistelrooy's hairdo but couldnt score a penalty to save my life . Duplicated David Beckham's hairdo and couldnt score, no matter how 'Loos' the girls were. Duplicated Jimi Hendrix and got called a rapist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Once saw a used condom fallen on the ground and I thought it was a balloon. I was going to blow it up before one of my friends told me exactly what it was used for and the places the rubbery fucker may have visted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The first time I was contemplating asking a girl out, I was the confident Marlon Brando in front of the guy friends telling them stuff like ' I shall make her an offer she cannnot refuse' and other similar things. But when it was time to walk the walk,&lt;br /&gt;Rohit- Hi&lt;br /&gt;Girl - Hey Rohit, you wanted to see me ?&lt;br /&gt;Rohit - Er yeah.&lt;br /&gt;Girl - Yeah, what happened ?&lt;br /&gt;Rohit - I was just wondering...&lt;br /&gt;Girl - Yeah..&lt;br /&gt;Rohit - Well, i was just..&lt;br /&gt;Girl - Yeah..&lt;br /&gt;Rohit - Er, i was..&lt;br /&gt;Girl - * Beautiful Smile*&lt;br /&gt;Rohit - What toothpaste you use ?&lt;br /&gt;Girl - Huh ?&lt;br /&gt;Rohit - Yeah, er ! Toothpaste ?&lt;br /&gt;Girl - Er Pepsodent , why ?&lt;br /&gt;Rohit - No, nothing. That was exactly what i was wondering.&lt;br /&gt;Girl - Huh ?&lt;br /&gt;Rohit - Never mind. I was just kinda curious.&lt;br /&gt;Girl - Huh ? Why ?&lt;br /&gt;Rohit - Its er..nothing, really. I am doing like a er...a survey.&lt;br /&gt;Girl - Erm okay. * Fucking wierdo*&lt;br /&gt;That night, Rohit Saha slept with the fishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Was a Self Appointed Sex councillor back in std 6th. Explained to a guy (Code name - Dixcy) that you cannot get pregnant by kissing. To which he said, "Arre Baba , i heard that some glands in the mouth produce semen as well and if this semen gets transferred from my mouth to hers and through her entire digestive tract and into her ovaries , phir to waat hai na ? ". I narrowed my eyes, put a hand on my chin and with a sombre expression said. " Man ! That is something i have never thought about."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Have seen Fight Club so many times that i rattled out Tyler Durden's entire 'Middle Children Of History' speech, sloshed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many such incidents but i cannot remember them all. So, i think its time to conclude the in depth 'Cribbs' like tour of my closet. The shower of skeletons falling from all directions just goes to show that behind the visage of a Rebellious Metalhead, lies a true Geek . I dont let him come out too often, for this world is not a safe place for him. He will stay locked up in the closet and bide his time. One day, the Earth will become a better place , and he will be free to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blah, i am getting sentimental now, so signing off seems the only logical thing to do . Cheers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P. S - Watch Francis Ford Copolla's Vietnam War Epic 'Apocalypse Now' whilst stoned. Takes it to a whole new level. :-D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-1778128349465782922?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/1778128349465782922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=1778128349465782922' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/1778128349465782922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/1778128349465782922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2010/02/coming-out-of-closet.html' title='Coming Out Of The Closet'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-3725004186344904731</id><published>2010-02-07T06:32:00.032+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-07T12:46:48.895+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Two Disgusting 19 Year Old Males'/><title type='text'>Toilet Chronicles</title><content type='html'>We are in Goa, standing outside a car hiring station where I recall having this wierd conversation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden &lt;/strong&gt;- Dude, nature calls. Anyone want to come with me ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Jaideep &lt;/strong&gt;- To watch you pee ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden &lt;/strong&gt;- No, no. We can go ask the car guy if there is any place nearby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit &lt;/strong&gt;- Where the fuck do you think we are ? Fucking Singapore ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Saagar &lt;/strong&gt;- Ha ha, place to pee for fuck's sake ! This is India, man. Unzip, Hold and Shoot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden &lt;/strong&gt;- Whatever happened to good old Hygiene ?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit &lt;/strong&gt;- I will go with you. I need to deballast myself. Lets ask this guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden &lt;/strong&gt;- Dude, is there a toilet nearby ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Car Dude &lt;/strong&gt;- Yeah mate, go right ahead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit and Elden &lt;/strong&gt;- Thanks man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;*Goes straight in*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit &lt;/strong&gt;- Man this place smells like Satan took an epic dump. And there is just one shitpot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden &lt;/strong&gt;- Dude, some perspective okay. A minute ago we were contemplating relieving ourselves on Bipasha Basu's poster, on the wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit &lt;/strong&gt;- Dude, She is the best thing to come out my motherland after Sushmita Sen and Egg Roll. I wouldnt pee on her poster even if they held me at gunpoint. Voluntarily atleast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - Okay okay. Give me some space man. I really need to go in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Okay. Remember the keywords. Latch and Flush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;*Elden goes in and closes the door while I wait outside*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt;- Motherfucker ! This shit door wont latch. Just dont come inside !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Oh absolutely ! Watching you pee wasnt really on my list of things to do before I die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - Dude, dont you love the feeling of relief after holding back for so long ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Er, be specific man. That sounded like one of those sweet nothings you tell a chick after sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - I am talking about peeing, okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Okay, whatever. Yeah, maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - Motherfucker !!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Now what ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - The fucking flush does not work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Motherfucker !!! Thats another thing i will have to strike out from the things to do before you die list. 'Pee on another man's pee.' Thats just fucking sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - Dude, i am done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Rohit&lt;/span&gt; - This place fills me with as much confidence as recovering sexaholic Russell Brand telling poor, unsuspecting Katy Perry: "You’re the only one for me, luv"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;* Elden comes out, I go in. I close the door, he waits for me outside while i go in*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Fuuuuuckkkk. Ooooh, Aaaaah....... I have waited soo long for this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - Dude, please stop having an oral orgasm in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Fuck off man ! Not every moan has to symbolize sexual liberation. Do yourself a favour and cut down the 'Naughty America' for a few days. Maybe then, you can distinguish a 'relief' moan from a 'BJ' moan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - Now, some perspective here. An All-Guys hostel and No Naughty America is like Metallica without Cliff Burton.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - True that. Metallica turned a bit shite after he died.Bless the great man's soul ! FYI , My Reynold's number now above 4000.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - If i remember Juggy D's ramblings correctly in Fluid Mech class, you are clearly experiencing Turbulent Fluid Flow. Ha ha, they should put a miniature airhostess inside your tract. "Ladies and Gentlemen, fasten your seatbelts, we are expecting turbulence."&lt;br /&gt;Ha ha ha Ha ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; -You Sir, are a disgusting little motherfucker. But tell me, why on earth do you call him Juggy D ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - Well, if i had a name like Jagdeeshwaran, i would have sued my parents for every freaking penny they got.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Not that you have a great name anyway. When i first heard your name i thought you were Elton and Gay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - I would rather be Gay, than have the name of the hairy protagonist in every second pseudo-homo bollywood flick .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Whatever rocks your boat, man ! By the way, there is some graffiti written here above the flush. You read ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - I saw it but i dont really like to multitask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Its in Hindi, it says - "&lt;em&gt;नन्हे मुन्ने बच्चे तेरे मुट्ठी में क्या है &lt;/em&gt;? "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - Ha ha ha ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Some imagination to come up with that ! Jesus Christ !!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden&lt;/strong&gt; - Dont take the Lord's name with the Weener in your hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;*I finish with my thing and go out*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Elden - &lt;/strong&gt;This conversation never happened and no one needs to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rohit&lt;/strong&gt; - Seriously dude.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S248WKTM3zI/AAAAAAAAAl4/qJ83CCE05wc/s1600-h/r545.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S248zuwY6JI/AAAAAAAAAmA/3ebAtfeqGY0/s1600-h/untitledER.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435348659704752274" style="width: 400px; height: 300px;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S248zuwY6JI/AAAAAAAAAmA/3ebAtfeqGY0/s400/untitledER.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In seemingly happier times.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-3725004186344904731?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/3725004186344904731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=3725004186344904731' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/3725004186344904731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/3725004186344904731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2010/02/toilet-chronicles.html' title='Toilet Chronicles'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S248zuwY6JI/AAAAAAAAAmA/3ebAtfeqGY0/s72-c/untitledER.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-5322862323246280415</id><published>2009-08-06T23:50:00.027+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-17T12:49:16.423+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cinema'/><title type='text'>Cinema Junkie.</title><content type='html'>As i have nothing noteworthy to do, i have spent the best part of two days making a list of the 100 best movies that i have seen. Its much much harder than you would think but here goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://mymoviebanners.com/pics/scarface/scarface-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 300px; cursor: pointer; height: 464px;" alt="" src="http://mymoviebanners.com/pics/scarface/scarface-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 Fight Club&lt;br /&gt;2 The Godfather: Part 2&lt;br /&gt;3 Pulp Fiction&lt;br /&gt;4 The Godfather&lt;br /&gt;5 Shawshank Redemption&lt;br /&gt;6 Scarface&lt;br /&gt;7 Seven Samurai&lt;br /&gt;8 Lord Of The Rings - Return Of The King&lt;br /&gt;9 Ran&lt;br /&gt;10 The Usual Suspects&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11 The Good, The Bad And The Ugly&lt;br /&gt;12 Schindler's List&lt;br /&gt;13 12 Angry Men&lt;br /&gt;14 Silence of the Lambs&lt;br /&gt;15 Braveheart&lt;br /&gt;16 Taxi Driver&lt;br /&gt;17 Cidade de Deus&lt;br /&gt;18 Goodfellas&lt;br /&gt;19 Memento&lt;br /&gt;20 Lord Of The Rings - The Two Towers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21 Raging Bull&lt;br /&gt;22 No Country For Old Men&lt;br /&gt;23 Apocalypse Now&lt;br /&gt;24 Lord Of The Rings - Fellowship Of The Ring&lt;br /&gt;25 The Dark Knight&lt;br /&gt;26 Sin City&lt;br /&gt;27 Blade Runner&lt;br /&gt;28 Star Wars - The Empire Strikes Back&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.musicweb-international.com/film/2006/jun06/v4vendetta.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 300px; cursor: pointer; height: 300px;" alt="" src="http://www.musicweb-international.com/film/2006/jun06/v4vendetta.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29 Se7en&lt;br /&gt;30 A Clockwork Orange&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31 Psycho&lt;br /&gt;32 Gladiator&lt;br /&gt;33 Dr Strangelove&lt;br /&gt;34 V For Vendetta&lt;br /&gt;35 Trainspotting&lt;br /&gt;36 The Prestige&lt;br /&gt;37 Requim For A Dream&lt;br /&gt;38 Das Boot&lt;br /&gt;39 Reservior Dogs&lt;br /&gt;40 The Shining&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41 Saving Private Ryan&lt;br /&gt;42 One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest&lt;br /&gt;43 Forrest Gump&lt;br /&gt;44 L.A Confidential&lt;br /&gt;45 Full Metal Jacket&lt;br /&gt;46 The Lives Of Others&lt;br /&gt;47 Oldboy&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://stupidand.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/oldboy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 295px; cursor: pointer; height: 421px;" alt="" src="http://stupidand.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/oldboy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48 Yojimbo&lt;br /&gt;49 Terminator 2&lt;br /&gt;50 Jaws&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;51 Inglorious Basterds&lt;br /&gt;52 Lock Stock And Two Smoking Barrels&lt;br /&gt;53 Amelie&lt;br /&gt;54 Infernal Affairs&lt;br /&gt;55 Raiders Of The Lost Ark&lt;br /&gt;56 Casino&lt;br /&gt;57 Batman Begins&lt;br /&gt;58 La Haine&lt;br /&gt;59 American Beauty&lt;br /&gt;60 Der Untergang&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61 Pan's Labrynth&lt;br /&gt;62 The Last Samurai&lt;br /&gt;63 Donnie Darko&lt;br /&gt;64 A Beautiful Mind&lt;br /&gt;65 The Matrix&lt;br /&gt;66 The Seventh Seal&lt;br /&gt;67 Mulholland Drive&lt;br /&gt;68 There Will Be Blood&lt;br /&gt;69 Audition&lt;br /&gt;70 Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;71 The Pianist&lt;br /&gt;72 American Psycho&lt;br /&gt;73 Star Wars: Return of the Jedi&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://idreamedmovies.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/kane1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 295px; cursor: pointer; height: 411px;" alt="" src="http://idreamedmovies.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/kane1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;74 Scent Of A Woman&lt;br /&gt;75 Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind&lt;br /&gt;76 Kill Bill&lt;br /&gt;77 Heat&lt;br /&gt;78 Citizen Kane&lt;br /&gt;79 Unforgiven&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;80 Battle Royale&lt;br /&gt;81 Die Hard&lt;br /&gt;82 Fargo&lt;br /&gt;83 The Last Emperor&lt;br /&gt;84 In The Mood For Love&lt;br /&gt;85 Y Tu Mama Tambien&lt;br /&gt;86 Hotel Rwanda&lt;br /&gt;87 Leon&lt;br /&gt;88 The Big Lebowski&lt;br /&gt;89 Snatch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90 American History X&lt;br /&gt;91 The Exorcist&lt;br /&gt;92 Motorcycle Diaries&lt;br /&gt;93 Rane&lt;br /&gt;94 In Bruges&lt;br /&gt;95 Ichi The Killer&lt;br /&gt;96 Au Revoir, Les Enfants&lt;br /&gt;97 300&lt;br /&gt;98 Road To Perdition&lt;br /&gt;99 Sympathy For Mr Vengeance&lt;br /&gt;100 Into The Wild&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dont kill me if i havnt mentioned your favourite movie in here. This list is based purely on my opinion and i understand if you happen to think of my opinion as wank.Also, I know i watch too many movies and as a result i will be making changes to the list from time to time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last updated - 17th December, 2009.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-5322862323246280415?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/5322862323246280415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=5322862323246280415' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/5322862323246280415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/5322862323246280415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2009/08/cinema-junkie.html' title='Cinema Junkie.'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-8615139894149501792</id><published>2009-02-07T10:27:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-07T11:48:13.219+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Metal'/><title type='text'>Music And Me</title><content type='html'>I was never that much into music in my childhood. I was much into cartoons and books. And Girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, i am not too proud of my musical beginnings. The first band that i heard and liked, and was anything remotely close to Rock was Linkin Park.I am not ashamed to admit it now, but i went two whole years thinking in my mind that LP was the best band in the world. A classic case of the 'Frog in the Well' Syndrome. Then Metallica happened to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SYh5ylWY3iI/AAAAAAAAAcI/57HYaW0v7aE/s1600-h/02_JamesHetfield_KirkHammet_small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 185px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SYh5ylWY3iI/AAAAAAAAAcI/57HYaW0v7aE/s200/02_JamesHetfield_KirkHammet_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298618871527824930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Credit goes my old friend Cyril. Then straight out of London with the cockney accent in place, he asked me one day after class if i had heard of Metallica. It was a time when MI:2 had just come out and they were constantly showing its OST (I Disappear) on the music channels. So i told him that i had. Even though it was just one song(which i didnt tell him then),the fact that i heard about Metallica impressed him enough to be friends with me. Another weird thing about the whole affair was that i had the whole of Metallica's discography on my hard disk, but was never arsed to listen to them, and i needed this new friend of mine to wax lyricals about them 24-7 to inspire me to listen to them. Thank God for that !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unlike my Linkin Park phase, The Metallica phase was never going to end. Even to this very day, when upset or angry, its 'Master Of The Puppets' or 'Seek and Destroy' which helps me regain myself. Never gets old this routine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After i started listening to Metallica, there opened a lot many&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SYiFJJc-dUI/AAAAAAAAAc4/v9DziOYKK0U/s1600-h/album12_bnw_a_small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SYiFJJc-dUI/AAAAAAAAAc4/v9DziOYKK0U/s200/album12_bnw_a_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298631353804158274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; metaphorical windows in me and before i knew it i was listening to all of 80s Thrash/Heavy Metal. Maiden, Anthrax,Pantera, Testament,Kreator,Megadeth and Slayer. I was awe inspired when i heard Maiden for the first time.Orgasmic almost. 'Hallowed Be Thy Name' was the song in question. Couldnt sleep that night, with THAT famous riff going on and on in my mind . I was bloody counting Dickinsons before i slept that night. One Bruce, Two Bruces, Three...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My romance with 80s Thrash went on as i listened to every album i could lay my hands on. From 'Reign In Blood','Rust In Peace', 'Master Of The Puppets' to 'Among The Living' and 'Extreme Aggression', i bloody listened to them all. And I loved them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During this extreme Thrash infatuation period, i was made to listen to a bit of Punk Rock by some of my friends in high school. No offense guys, but the likes of Good Charlotte, New Found Glory,Simple Plan and All American Rejects just dont do it for me. After listening to their music i was absolutely convinced that the people who listened to their music are probably either men with extreme levels of bodily estrogen who wear pink frilly panties in private or EMOs of the highest order. The topic and subtopic of every song is the same. The girl has left me. So i will pen down my emotions so that i can croon about my feelings to a bunch of prepubescent EMOs whose girls have left them as well. We can then cry together and with a bit of luck turn the whole thing into wild gay orgy and in the process make the world a better place to live in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SYh-WDh42cI/AAAAAAAAAco/rEapAqmLaWo/s1600-h/product4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SYh-WDh42cI/AAAAAAAAAco/rEapAqmLaWo/s320/product4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298623878971054530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After the whole unfortunate and utterly avoidable punk mini phase, i was introduced to the world of Black Metal, and like every newbie i was shocked beyond my wits when i heard  Dimmu Borgir  for the first time.  'Progenies  of the Great Apocalypse' was the song.  The heavy riffs, fast drumming and guttural vocals surprised the intestines out of me. But slowly Shagrath and his awesome band grew on me and with the passage of time, i could come to terms with their brilliance and consequently fall in love with their music. This started of a phase of obsession for me in terms of anything closely related to Scandinavian and Black Metal.Again, i listened to stuff from every band that i could find. After Dimmu, i listened to Dark Funeral, Emperor,Marduk, Fintroll, Graveworm, Catamenia and Satyricon, just to mention a few. I read up about the legendary pioneers like Mercyful Fate,Venom and Bathory. And then about Barzum and Varg's Church Arsons. I thought it was barbaric and disgraceful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Discovered Melodeath and Power Metal almost around the same time. Children Of Bodom and Kalmah . What bands they are ! Its bloody unbelievable the amount of depth in some of the Kalmah songs.Their bass guitarist seems insanely talented to pull off some of the stuff that he does. That said, even some of Bodom's riffs are absolutely out of the world. Alexi Laiho ! What a man you are !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around the same time, i discovered the Grand Daddy Of Metal. Black Sabbath. That would prove be one band that almost came close to influencing my life as much as Metallica had done. There really isnt much to say about them except they singlehandedly created Metal. Its not without reason that its said that these 4 dudes from Birmingham are directly or indirectly responsible for every metal riff that you will ever hear. All that said and done, most of my free time these days is spent on air guitaring to Crazy Train's solo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Dad is a big fan of Classical Rock and he introduced me to it . He did this when i was hooked to LP for good and my old man decided that his son ought to have better musical taste than the current trash he was listening to. So he introduced me to the world of Led Zep,Pink Floyd, AC/DC, The Beatles, Deep Purple, Eagles,Springsteen,The Doors, Bob Dylan and the like.Nothing really there to say about the legends that each of them were except....&lt;br /&gt;What a man you are Daddy :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently, i am going through a  Progressive Metal phase, listening to a  lot of Dream Theater. In fact i am listening to the Metropolis album as i type my longest ever entry on the blog. Protnoy and Petrucci are Gods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adios. And if you actually read up till here, Muchos Gracias ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-8615139894149501792?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/8615139894149501792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=8615139894149501792' title='284 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/8615139894149501792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/8615139894149501792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2009/02/music-and-me.html' title='Music And Me'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SYh5ylWY3iI/AAAAAAAAAcI/57HYaW0v7aE/s72-c/02_JamesHetfield_KirkHammet_small.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>284</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-6032836974358704414</id><published>2008-11-07T17:22:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-08T06:47:01.064+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Routine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='time table'/><title type='text'>Time Table</title><content type='html'>0445: Waking up to the 'Stairway To Heaven' solo.&lt;br /&gt;0455: Brush and make Tea.&lt;br /&gt;0500-0530 :Get my tracksuits and shoes on, gulp the tea,wake up my roomie (which requires considerable effort from both sides)&lt;br /&gt;0545: Morning Muster&lt;br /&gt;0600-0700: Physical conditioning (not pleasant)&lt;br /&gt;0700-0800: Breakfast,bath and getting ready(includes housewife jobs like ironing the uniform and polishing shoes)&lt;br /&gt;0830:Annex muster&lt;br /&gt;0900-16:30 - In the classroom.&lt;br /&gt;1700 - Back to the room (Read Home Sweet Home)&lt;br /&gt;1700-1900 - Check orkut scraps, wash socks and other important jobs.&lt;br /&gt;1900-1915- Getting ready for dinner&lt;br /&gt;1915-2000: Dinner&lt;br /&gt;2015- Night Muster&lt;br /&gt;2030 - 2200: Time usually spent in academic pursuits&lt;br /&gt;2200-2300 : Complete the remaining levels in Max Payne or call up friends. Call up mom. When i skip dinner, i usually prepare noodles and then proceed to devour it at this time.&lt;br /&gt;2300 - Lights off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S - Started reading Paul McGrath's autobiography, 'Back From The Brink'. Brilliant read thus far.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-6032836974358704414?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/6032836974358704414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=6032836974358704414' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/6032836974358704414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/6032836974358704414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/11/0445-stairway-to-heaven-guitar-solo.html' title='Time Table'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-5010861349776010300</id><published>2008-08-23T00:13:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2008-08-23T00:53:02.964+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Dark Knight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SK8PpaveIAI/AAAAAAAAAVg/dJO39EBuX0A/s1600-h/JokerFinal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SK8PpaveIAI/AAAAAAAAAVg/dJO39EBuX0A/s320/JokerFinal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237422095882657794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well, what can be said that hasn't already been said. Just a great, great film. Everything about it was 'right' if you ask me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heath Ledger, now I was a little concerned that after all &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; hype about his performance that actually seeing it would have been a natural anti climax. It was far from that, his performance was just mesmerising, you couldn't physically take your eyes of him it was that intense, without a doubt his role was &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; show stealer, every scene he was in was amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From what i could make out that there were conscious efforts from the filmmakers to make a serious and adult movie. By doing that they were then able to lose &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; traditional camp jester style acting of normal comic book films. &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;The&lt;/span&gt; complexity of &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; story reminded me more of a crime thriller than a comic book, it was like watching a game of chess unfold. Just when you thought &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; good guys were starting to win &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; Joker pulls an ace out of his sleeve and results in &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; breakdown of many of &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; main characters in &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; film.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I particularly enjoyed &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; clash of philosophies, &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; added complexity of &lt;span class="highlight"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; characters and a distinct lack of CGI.  Cain, Freeman, Bale and Eckhart were all excellent.Batman could do with a couple of strepsils though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the best movies that i have seen for a long long time. Heath Ledger has well and truly nailed it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-5010861349776010300?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/5010861349776010300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=5010861349776010300' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/5010861349776010300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/5010861349776010300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/08/dark-knight.html' title='The Dark Knight'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SK8PpaveIAI/AAAAAAAAAVg/dJO39EBuX0A/s72-c/JokerFinal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-8277160625173973308</id><published>2008-05-31T18:21:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-05-31T18:26:27.450+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nightmare'/><title type='text'>Wierd Dream</title><content type='html'>I had this very wierd dream yesterday,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I somehow managed to be playing for the Indian National Football Team and we were up against Afghanistan's national team, who had come over to Mumbai for a friendly. All fucking match I couldn't get a touch, every pass was mere inches away from my feet. Totally frustrating. After the game, the whole opposition team wanted to defect and we were all scared that the Taliban were going to come and kill us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, the whole thing was one terrible nightmare, and for me, the fact that in my dreams I couldn't even get a touch was beyond infuriating. For some reason i was playing on the left wing, which happens to be a position i have never played before. Bastard coach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a seemingly unrelated note, I hear that being bored and jobless all the time leads you to have the most crazy arsed dreams of your life. Sad but true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-8277160625173973308?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/8277160625173973308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=8277160625173973308' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/8277160625173973308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/8277160625173973308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/05/wierd-dream.html' title='Wierd Dream'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-7362487829071057744</id><published>2008-05-21T04:03:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-13T22:42:18.485+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Manchester United'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Champions League'/><title type='text'>Kings Of Europe</title><content type='html'>I distinctly remember the day we were knocked out of the First round of the Champions League by Benfica. I remember lying down on my bed and looking at the dark ceiling and wondering if it would ever come back again. At that time , we had gone two years without the Premierleague and with almost no hope of winning it that year as well. The mediocrity was painful and watching our ineptitude in Europe tore my soul. But with Sir Alex at the helm, i knew that his third great team would come, sooner or later.Fast forward  one year, and we are again beginning to play football expected of Manchester United. We were back to tearing apart teams without breaking sweat and scoring a bucketful of goals. Most importantly, the swagger was back. I knew we had turned a corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three years after that heart shattering defeat at Benfica,i have experienced the most surreal night in my life. The whole game just passed me by as a dream and when Edwin saved Anelka's shot, we had reached the promise land, again. I remembered all those hollow promises i made to God during those dark days in order to make us win it again, and couldnt help but cry as they all celebrated the glorious triumph. I watched Ronnie sobbing on the floor and i am convinced that he is here to stay. He is going nowhere. Ramon Calderon, Bernt Schuster and all you Madrid fucks, he is ours. You can take your grub and shove it up where the sun dont shine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I felt an immense sense of pride , just so proud of the way that they played the game, ,so proud of their determination, doggedness,skill, courage and desire . They have displayed all the characters which epitomises Manchester United. It was wonderful to see the youngsters enjoying themselves and now that they have tasted this kind of glory, they'll want to drink from the well of it a lot more often. For players like Paul Scholes,Edwin Van Der Sar and Ryan Giggs, what a fitting achievement as sun begins to set on their playing careers - but let's not forget the inspiration that they have given to all those young kids around them. The ghosts of Leverkusen, Madrid, Porto,Benfica and Milan  are finally put to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it was a fitting tribute to the Busby Babes,and i am sure that they are having a party up there as i write this. Them along with Sir Matt and George Best. Thank you for watching over the lads and enjoy the party. I knew that you would have never let us lose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SDZttbE0qUI/AAAAAAAAATo/l2jZyt2p9ZI/s1600-h/2994189450103265676S600x600Q85.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SDZttbE0qUI/AAAAAAAAATo/l2jZyt2p9ZI/s320/2994189450103265676S600x600Q85.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203467046602713410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manchester United - Champions of England, Kings of Europe. The First Double after Cantona and the kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-7362487829071057744?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/7362487829071057744/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=7362487829071057744' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/7362487829071057744'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/7362487829071057744'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/05/kings-of-europe.html' title='Kings Of Europe'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SDZttbE0qUI/AAAAAAAAATo/l2jZyt2p9ZI/s72-c/2994189450103265676S600x600Q85.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-8003495988740598301</id><published>2008-05-12T10:45:00.012+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-13T22:42:18.956+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Routine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Chetan Bhagat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Manchester United'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LASIK'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CET'/><title type='text'>Freebird And All That.</title><content type='html'>Been a very eventful last 5 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had CET on Friday. I hadnt studied much for it and as far as i am concerned i dont give two hoots for Engineering. One of my friends made a point about Engineers being mass produced in the country today and i think she was spot on ! Anyways, enough of the propaganda. My CET center was some Marathi medium school not very near my house. It looked in a desperate state of disrepair from the outside and a tad like those rundown buildings which have a high probability of ghastly spirits farting out loud. The invigilators were 'marathis' of the highest order. They gave the instructions in chaste marathi and derived sadistic pleasure as some of us looked around, trying to decipher the  seemingly alien tongue. The fan rotated so slowly that even Liverpool could have won the premier league before it completed one complete revolution.In this sweltering heat i committed the cardinal sin of forgetting to apply the deo and if the person sitting behind me could not do too well in his exam, he isnt entirely at fault. Anyways,I did the best i could .No more exams for atleast a month now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next day, i had Laser Surgery of the eye. Merchant navy supposedly have this criteria of a 6/6 vision. Maybe it has to something with the fact that spectacles and navy suits look hideous together. Anyways, the surgery took just about 10 minutes but the experience was quite intense. Certainly, not for the faint hearted.After the surgury,  I wasnt allowed to watch TV, sit of the PC  and read books for a day , so i called up a few old friends begging them to talk to me ,  as i sat in bed with new found vision and my boredom for company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my vision turned from blurry to clear and with the subsequet decrease in the levels of  paranoia in my parents, i started reading the cult book 'Five Point Someone'. It has been two years of people telling me how i absolutely cannot afford to not read it , but i was too into John Grisham and Frederic Forsyth to give a fuck about some IIT mugger talking about his nerdy friends and strict professors and how he bumbled about in front of hot females (all supposed characteristics of students of the famed institute). Anyways, i loved the book and i could not help but not help but admire the work put in . I loved the author's cynical outlook towards life, which reminded me a bit of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manchester United have retained the Premier League title.  It feels heavenly. Take a blow , lads. Been a fantastic season. Alex Ferguson, I fucking love you, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SCgr0T4vgZI/AAAAAAAAATQ/ds7mw5E4s-c/s1600-h/ATgAAADV4G9RwtEHRcT7YP44xxjOpd8ItrRc0rfqqIwxwYkGUHNfHb6SYNfv-VL42jci9mLFQ8blUjuskikGytMTH69QAJtU9VCeeYhPWv_gNmn7C7NaIoREP97Hlw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SCgr0T4vgZI/AAAAAAAAATQ/ds7mw5E4s-c/s400/ATgAAADV4G9RwtEHRcT7YP44xxjOpd8ItrRc0rfqqIwxwYkGUHNfHb6SYNfv-VL42jci9mLFQ8blUjuskikGytMTH69QAJtU9VCeeYhPWv_gNmn7C7NaIoREP97Hlw.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199453947490697618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S - Just announced, ISC results out on the May 17th. The worms in the stomach are starting to squirm and wriggle out. Shit !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-8003495988740598301?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/8003495988740598301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=8003495988740598301' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/8003495988740598301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/8003495988740598301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/05/freebird-and-all-that.html' title='Freebird And All That.'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SCgr0T4vgZI/AAAAAAAAATQ/ds7mw5E4s-c/s72-c/ATgAAADV4G9RwtEHRcT7YP44xxjOpd8ItrRc0rfqqIwxwYkGUHNfHb6SYNfv-VL42jci9mLFQ8blUjuskikGytMTH69QAJtU9VCeeYhPWv_gNmn7C7NaIoREP97Hlw.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-6371260321861328319</id><published>2008-05-02T12:46:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-05-02T20:06:06.928+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Idiots'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Letter.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Plantfuckers'/><title type='text'>An Open Letter</title><content type='html'>To Whomsoever It May Concern,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that i am nearing the culmination of my High School days, its only natural that i do this. Firstly my apologies to every gimp that i have wound up. I am clearly in love with you lot and thanks for being a neverending source of entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secondly, a big thank you to all my teachers for putting up with my nonsense all this time. Hope you enjoy your remaining teaching days and a sincere prayer from my side,that you do not have to meet a boisterous prick like me again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirdly to all the people that i have hurt unknowingly, i am very sorry and i will always wish that i could take my words and actions back. Kindly remember and associate me with the laughter,whilst ignoring the loud "sonovabitch" shriek that continuously resonates from the back of your head at the very mention of my name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last but not the least , for the ones i have knowingly pissed off.You are like a bunch of bitchy prepubescent girls in the playground, rather than a collection of intelligent, genuinely sensitive and articulate human beings. Its imperative that most of you have the intellect of a gnat and the culmination of this scenario will be your demise in a slow and agonizing manner leading to you losing your mind.I politely register my astonishment at how the fuck did some of you gain access to a supposedly beautiful place called 'World' which you now go on defacing with your vileness. You are so desperate that i am in no doubt, that you will experience the joys of copulation for the first time in the sole companionship of a mahogany Tree. Fucking plantfuckers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That will be all.&lt;br /&gt;Night Night Children.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-6371260321861328319?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/6371260321861328319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=6371260321861328319' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/6371260321861328319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/6371260321861328319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/05/open-letter.html' title='An Open Letter'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-8067562795200482076</id><published>2008-04-29T03:45:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-13T22:42:19.578+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Moscow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Manchester United'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pride'/><title type='text'>We Are Going To Moscow</title><content type='html'>The adrenalin is still pumping after experiencing another magical European night at Old Trafford, a night which is sure of a special place in the history of this great club. The crowd was immense and the atmosphere electric. I am fucking proud the way we performed.The wonder goal by Scholesy, the tireless running by Nani, Park and Tevez, the resilience of Evra, Brown and Hargreaves and the fantastic leadership by Rio. We have done everyone proud ,from the spirits of the Busby Babes, George Best , Sir Matt Busby and every other person who is connected to this great club of ours. Manchester United , I love you more than anything i have ever loved. I write this with tears in my eyes and pride in my heart, go ahead and win the cup for us !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We Shall Not Be Moved !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SBjAp0_DoeI/AAAAAAAAASI/j35EeTklLTs/s1600-h/utdbarca9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SBjAp0_DoeI/AAAAAAAAASI/j35EeTklLTs/s400/utdbarca9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195113995002159586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-8067562795200482076?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/8067562795200482076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=8067562795200482076' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/8067562795200482076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/8067562795200482076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/04/we-are-going-to-moscow.html' title='We Are Going To Moscow'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/SBjAp0_DoeI/AAAAAAAAASI/j35EeTklLTs/s72-c/utdbarca9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-5819323978275202503</id><published>2008-04-22T13:43:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-22T14:03:40.576+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Loser'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Old Friend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Laugh'/><title type='text'>Memoirs Of An Old Friend</title><content type='html'>I met this very old friend from school,this evening. He was a good lad but wierdly i dont really remember much about him, though one very funny incident came back to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it was the 6th standard, when we were about 12-13, this old friend of mine liked this girl. He was a bit of a tard and we were just kids. He came up with a sure-fire plan that could not go wrong for him. He ended up proposing to her on one-knee in the middle of the football ground, with a fake plastic ring you get free with Poppins, and asked her if she would do him the honor of making him complete. She laughed in his face, everyone else laughed, he ran away to the toilet and someone stole his pokemon cards.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-5819323978275202503?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/5819323978275202503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=5819323978275202503' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/5819323978275202503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/5819323978275202503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/04/memoirs-of-old-friend.html' title='Memoirs Of An Old Friend'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-7779000619559722930</id><published>2008-04-14T19:38:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-15T21:16:21.242+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tom Hanks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Forrest Gump'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Freedom'/><title type='text'>Momentary Respite And Tom Hanks</title><content type='html'>It was a wonderful day yesterday, i am freed of the ghastly chains of JEE and United tore the Gooners a new arsehole. Owen Hargreaves - I fucking love you, sir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had just one day, to nurse the hangover of the very eventful day previously,and warm myself in the embers of freedom before i get my head down to start my AIEEE preparations.I thought of giving myself a treat and took out the "Forrest Gump" DVD from the now scarcely touched video library in my room. It was battling with the other half of me which wanted to see "The Other Boleyn Girl" in the nearest theater, but i guess my laziness triumphed over my desire of seeing Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson on the same screen. I have always loved those two and i have always loved period films but i just couldnt inspire myself to move out of the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end i think i made a good choice. I couldnt believe i had the DVD for so long and could not be arsed to watch it. Honestly, I've never felt that emotion for a good few years, I was getting worried that I might have been transformed into a robot devoid of any emotion. It was the part when Forest started to break down talking to Jenny's grave and I must admit it brought a tear to my eye , not many films have done that ! The only movie i remember Tom Hanks was better was probably "The Green Mile".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later on,I was a bit annoyed that i wet myself over a movie . Fucking Hell !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-7779000619559722930?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/7779000619559722930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=7779000619559722930' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/7779000619559722930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/7779000619559722930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/04/forresthargo-and-jee.html' title='Momentary Respite And Tom Hanks'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-366579874982816450</id><published>2008-04-11T08:31:00.013+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-11T18:48:30.803+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A Nocturnal Tryst With Halliday</title><content type='html'>IITJEE is just a mere 48 hours away and I havnt slept a wink since day before yesterday. I feel knackered, weak and hopeless.Its 8 in the morning and keeping awake is a struggle, but i know i have to go on. Giving up is not an option and never will be.However, my eyes feel heavy and they rebel against my wishes to study further. Alphabets appear as a collective blur of dancing neon lights and the warm cozy bed is as tempting as Salma Hayek in "Desperado". I have studied a mere 15 days for an exam which people fail to crack after 2 whole years but Miracles do happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am off to bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-366579874982816450?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/366579874982816450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=366579874982816450' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/366579874982816450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/366579874982816450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/04/sleepless-night-with-halliday_11.html' title='A Nocturnal Tryst With Halliday'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-3298557616724036578</id><published>2008-04-04T09:42:00.010+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-05T12:02:36.353+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Confessions Of An Eccentric Loner</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I am amongst those silent brooding guys that middle aged women frown at, marking us down as a "potential rapists". So its needless to say that I am not exactly the type of person you would come upto and start talking about the weather. I very well know of the fact that people find me intimidating and I like to play along with the myth and project a very serious face which is supposed to convey that "if you come anywhere near me, i will abduct you and then torture you with corkscrews." Not that i am a mushy bastard who writes poetry in his free time, but i am pretty much normal like everyone, almost. Though,I admit to having bouts of eccentricity wherin i enjoy getting rid of all my bodily sensations and accessories, but let me warn you of the fact that it isnt a pretty sight and that it has the potential to haunt you for the rest of your life.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Over the past year i have learnt that the thing i treasure the most in my life is privacy and i hate it when people attempt to rob me off it, though i have an immense arsenal of explecitives that i employ and use with distinction , telling them exactly what i want them to do. I have not turned antisocial all of a sudden,but i enjoy the peace and quiet. I have lots of friends but its just that i am too lazy to call them regularly and this has pissed quite a few who in turn have labelled me with various uncomplimentary names as an "Insensitive Prick". My brother is so outgoing that he makes Paris Hilton look like a nun and he is constantly telling me to "go get a life." But i guess staying at home and spending sometime with myself feels as good as anything.I think i am done with my days of being a wildchild.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I guess, this is what they mean when they talk of growing up.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-3298557616724036578?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/3298557616724036578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=3298557616724036578' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/3298557616724036578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/3298557616724036578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/04/confessions-of-eccentricity.html' title='Confessions Of An Eccentric Loner'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-1351042341449524223</id><published>2008-04-03T10:00:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-03T10:47:47.941+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Fall And Fall Of The Italian Football League</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://img.thesun.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00014/italy_football_riots_14295a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://img.thesun.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00014/italy_football_riots_14295a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was going through a few articles and blogs that day and came across quite a few Italian fans/pundits who still feel that their league is the best. Honestly speaking as an English football loyalist, Italian football was superior, miles ahead of England in the nineties during the days of Baggio, Maldini, Baresi,Costacurta,Del Piero and Dino Baggio .Most Italian Second Division teams could give the top Premier League teams a run for thier money, and top Italian teams would dominate Europe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All that seems a distant memory with the huge money poured into the English game reading to the rise of the influx of foreign talent . The flair players of Latin America did not think England were worthy of their talents, and in that respect they were a distant third behind Italy and Spain and hence the talent pool of continents like South America and Africa were completely isolated from the english leagues. The tactical know how was severly limited and this owed to their uselessness in the European Cup.Though all that has changed ten years on, with English clubs doing so well in Europe, and murdering Italian clubs in their own backyard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Italian fans may not agree with me, but Italian football has been in a state of slow and steady decline. With the off-field controveries, lack of funds and poor attendence in games taking a toll on the Italians. The biggest mistake they have done is that they have resisted the commercialisation of their club and their league , proud feckers that they are this has done them more harm than good. Lack of funds equal to lack of quality, and surely the standard is dipping. Attendances in grounds have fallen drastically with some midtable games having a mere 8 to 10 thousand spectators. Also, the Italians prided themselves of never playing for any other league except thier own !Cannavaro,Zambrotta, Luca Toni, Lucarelli and Grosso among are some players who are playing in other leagues and i think that the Seria A has long lost its charm. Italian Football fanatics all over the world wait for another renaissance in the Italian shores, but its more in hope than expectation.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-1351042341449524223?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/1351042341449524223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=1351042341449524223' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/1351042341449524223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/1351042341449524223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/04/fall-and-fall-of-italian-football.html' title='The Fall And Fall Of The Italian Football League'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-6991115159651610042</id><published>2008-04-03T01:00:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-03T20:32:30.687+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Facebook</title><content type='html'>After conciously staying away from the much talked about website, Facebook ,i finally decided to take a plunge and see for myself what all the hype was about. I have spent a good three days on Facebook before writing this , and very bluntly putting it ,i think Facebook is the gayest thing to come out since Men's thongs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From what i gathered, the website is designed for mindless bimbos, desperate single men and sluts. There are no proper discussions in the communities to speak off, and there is this annoying function which enables people to know every godammed thing that you are doing in there. Some of the applications are downright stupid and i fail to understand the purpose of most. I mean, who the fuck wants to know "If you were a drink, what drink would you be ? " or "What colour is your heart."  There are lots of annoying features, which make the whole thing so much more cumbersom and the design is pathetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a way , its a great tool for "Show Offs" and i prefer the subtleties of Orkut, which in my opinion is a much better way to keep in touch with old friends with thousand times less baggage and complications .Facebook is so much more voyeurism and its a perfect website for people who have loads of spare time on their hands and narcissists who fancy themselves in a big way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont like it one bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-6991115159651610042?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/6991115159651610042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=6991115159651610042' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/6991115159651610042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/6991115159651610042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/04/facebook.html' title='Facebook'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-1488439445216589454</id><published>2008-04-02T03:45:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-13T22:42:20.542+05:30</updated><title type='text'>United Away Fans Take A Bow !</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/R_SUYKB3DdI/AAAAAAAAAQI/hVk7XdCf1t8/s1600-h/ATYAAAB4v5aeHQBtYnZzX5lzjmefxdMMNvCvD0Yef4HwZGgHH7vrSJz_EVr_-khdVzeC1RxpCitYRZnm4TmC5m2whdOEAJtU9VCu77dJUAAX335bWllEEI72iAEU_g.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184932213740211666" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/R_SUYKB3DdI/AAAAAAAAAQI/hVk7XdCf1t8/s400/ATYAAAB4v5aeHQBtYnZzX5lzjmefxdMMNvCvD0Yef4HwZGgHH7vrSJz_EVr_-khdVzeC1RxpCitYRZnm4TmC5m2whdOEAJtU9VCu77dJUAAX335bWllEEI72iAEU_g.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; After all the nonsense that happened last year and this , it was awfully brave of the United fans to make the trip to Rome.Italy has always had law and order problems with regards to football clubs and supporters , with the likes of Lazio (Nazio) and Roma heading the pack.The stabbing of 18 United supporters, the police brutalities coupled with stabbing of Leeds, Boro and Liverpool fans over the past few years in Rome have raised concerns with hooliganism rearing its ugly head time and again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;However what warmed my heart was the fact that a mere 4,000 Mancs outsung the 60 odd thousand fascist barbarians at the Stadio Olimpico."Glory Glory Manutd" resonated all around the stadium as the shellshocked Italians didnt know what hit them. It was one of those awesome European nights and I wish i could get drunk .Its illegal for anyone to be this happy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Viva Ronaldo,&lt;br /&gt;Viva Ronaldo,&lt;br /&gt;Running down the wing,&lt;br /&gt;Hear United Sing,&lt;br /&gt;Viva Ronaldo.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-1488439445216589454?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/1488439445216589454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=1488439445216589454' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/1488439445216589454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/1488439445216589454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2006/04/united-away-fans-take-bow.html' title='United Away Fans Take A Bow !'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/R_SUYKB3DdI/AAAAAAAAAQI/hVk7XdCf1t8/s72-c/ATYAAAB4v5aeHQBtYnZzX5lzjmefxdMMNvCvD0Yef4HwZGgHH7vrSJz_EVr_-khdVzeC1RxpCitYRZnm4TmC5m2whdOEAJtU9VCu77dJUAAX335bWllEEI72iAEU_g.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-9071382478601270095</id><published>2008-04-01T11:24:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-01T12:00:27.747+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Che Guevara - A 17 Year Old's Perception.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/10_01/CheGuerevaL_468x507.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/10_01/CheGuerevaL_468x507.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The first encounter i had with Che was when i was 11. There was this big bully in our building who more often than not , wore a Red T-Shirt of a long hair, unshaven man staring out at eternity. Just like the bully i percieved Guevara to be evil who beat up innocent kids when he was bored.However, for some or the other reason he stopped wearing that T-shirt and Che was gradually rubbed off my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Three years later, i met this girl in a party. She was fairly attractive and wore a White "Che" T-shirt. Old memories came flooding back and i asked the girl who this particular man was . "Dunno,dude. Some Rockstar,maybe. He looks kool, doesnt he ?" Was the reply that i got and i thought the girl was trying to act funny. I didnt pursue the topic.Two years later when i became active on orkut, the famous pictures of Guevara showed up again in many display pictures all over the website. Thats when i thought that i have had enough and that i had to know about this man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The initial research confirmed my belief that this man was indeed remarkable.The more and more i read about him, the deeper my admiration grew. Riding around the whole of Latin America on a bike, his involvment in the Social Revolution in Guetamala under Guzman,the stupendous overthrowing of Batista in Cuba, his brilliant military tactics, his fearless attitude towards death and his tireless efforts in Congo. Remarkable is an understatement for this man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He was never blessed with a strong army boasting huge numbers and relied mainly on terrain, intelligence and guerilla warfare. Another very important facet of his personality is that he never gave up. In Congo, Guevara was sorrounded by all sides and his army consisted of a paltry sum of 100 soldiers. He very well knew that it was a matter of time that we would be defeated and probably killed, but he did not desert the principles in which he had believed all his life. Yankees and their pals can call him a "Mindless Commie" and "Murderer" and this is as ironic as it gets. You dont have a revolution with handshakes, hugs and kisses least of all when you have America on the other side of the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He is an icon, loved and remembered my millions of people across the globe and deserves to go down in history as an extraordinary visionary, a fearless warrior, an astute tactician and a constant pain up the backside for the strongest country in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall."&lt;/em&gt; - Che Ernesto Guevara.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-9071382478601270095?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/9071382478601270095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=9071382478601270095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/9071382478601270095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/9071382478601270095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/04/che-guevara-17-year-olds-perception.html' title='Che Guevara - A 17 Year Old&apos;s Perception.'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-6000633408586978735</id><published>2008-03-31T09:15:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-31T12:39:24.417+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Weird Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.suckatlife.com/images/fullBadDream.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://www.suckatlife.com/images/fullBadDream.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I one used to have a recurring dream of me being chased around this supermarket by a man who was about 8 or 9 foot tall, and he was chasing me with an oversized drawing pin, And I used to hide and he always used to find me, and took a swipe at me with this drawing pin, eventually he would get me and hit me, at this point I'd wake up and sit bolt up right almost pissing myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is another one which i consistently used to have: a turtle, a snake and a bird, as to which they were sat talking on the side of a cliff edge, and then they all moved to this rock in the middle of the sea about 20ft up, which had a cave in it, and they sat there talking again and then all of a sudden they all departed at once, the turtle went back into the sea, the snake went underwater to go back to land and the bird flew off. Still confuses me that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;These days, when i cant get sleep i have this visions of Cristiano Ronaldo jumping over fences, i finally fall asleep counting Ronaldos, One Ronaldo, Two Ronaldos, Three Ronaldos... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-6000633408586978735?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/6000633408586978735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=6000633408586978735' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/6000633408586978735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/6000633408586978735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-one-used-to-have-recurring-dream-of.html' title='Weird Dreams'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-8198169726388298474</id><published>2008-03-30T23:45:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-31T23:56:36.195+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Celebrity Obsessed People</title><content type='html'>I was sitting alone in Cafe Coffee Day this evening enjoying the solitude and minding my own business, when two teenage females walked in. They sat in a sofa behind me and being the sad bastard that I am I listened intently to their conversation. Firstly they talked about Heath Ledger and what a tragedy it was that he died, then they talked about Ranbir Kapoor and Deepika Padukone and how heartbroken poor Yuvraj Singh would be at this point of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they talked at length about Britney Spears.Then one female told the other that she has eyes on this new guy in her building. The other female said, "What does he look like". The first female replied "He's kinda like a good looking, tough Bruce Willis type". The other female then said, "I prefer clean cut, handsome Keano Reeves types personally".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously why on earth can people not frame a sentance without mentioning a celebrity ? Bloody Hell !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-8198169726388298474?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/8198169726388298474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=8198169726388298474' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/8198169726388298474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/8198169726388298474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/03/celebrity-obsessed-people.html' title='Celebrity Obsessed People'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-2430049073921394119</id><published>2008-03-30T14:08:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-31T13:30:52.304+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Without Glasses</title><content type='html'>Yeah, i know this is bound to surprise a few but i actually have a number, (-1.5 and -2). Surprised because i never wear my spectacles. I have always had problems looking a far away objects and i often identified people by their body shape because the face always appeared blurred. It really wasnt much of a problem to be honest and i wasnt even concerned about it too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, the occupation of my preference demands eyesight of 6/6 , so its imperative that i get my LASIK done.I had an appointment today and the date is tentatively set to the second week of may.Apparently, the surgery takes just 15 minutes !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-2430049073921394119?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/2430049073921394119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=2430049073921394119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/2430049073921394119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/2430049073921394119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/03/without-glasses.html' title='Without Glasses'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-8516966905929454467</id><published>2008-03-29T12:41:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-13T22:42:20.745+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Coming Very Soon....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/R-3sQ6B3DQI/AAAAAAAAAL8/Ow1isZsU9FI/s1600-h/untitled.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183058521372429570" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/R-3sQ6B3DQI/AAAAAAAAAL8/Ow1isZsU9FI/s400/untitled.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/R-3rxKB3DPI/AAAAAAAAAL0/POL3_mXT-6w/s1600-h/untitled.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-8516966905929454467?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/8516966905929454467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=8516966905929454467' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/8516966905929454467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/8516966905929454467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/03/coming-very-soon.html' title='Coming Very Soon....'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/R-3sQ6B3DQI/AAAAAAAAAL8/Ow1isZsU9FI/s72-c/untitled.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-923849524120523113</id><published>2008-03-28T18:53:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-29T13:17:34.040+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Doubters And Bastards !</title><content type='html'>The last 2 years has been the steepest learning curve in my short life thus far. Before that i remember bragging stuff like "there is nothing more for me to learn" , kiddish and self absorbed arrogance with a tinge of insecurity was clearly reflected from the boasts whilst little did i know that the man upstairs was looking down with a sadistic grin lighting up his wise face. "You aint seen nothing yet, laddie."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An honest opinion of myself would see me labelled as a good guy. I am likeable and polite, i like to make people happy and am rarely rude to anyone. Needless to say, i have had loads and loads of friends in the 9th and 10th. Yes, having so many friends did give me a feeling of satisfaction, and a feeling of being wanted and liked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though, with the passage of time i realised that the so called friendships were just a combination of parasatic companionship, hollow convinience and symbiotic indifference. ISC was filled with such experiences of being let down by the people you trusted.Jealousy is a key word and most of the time , its people's insecurity which makes them do things they normally wouldnt do. I think that was the case with many of the idiots i have had to encounter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, talking about the worse breed of idiots, the ones who would smile sweetly when you looked but as soon as the back is turned, the knives are out and sharpened and you are the one they are aiming at.Dont, get me wrong , i have always welcomed constructive criticism but the criticism which is borne out of idle gossip with a view of being vindictive really hurts . But the matter of the fact is that ,you dont need hashish, cocaine or marijuana if you can prove your doubters wrong,cause its as much a drug as the other three are, its addictive and it feels wonderful . I vividly remember scoring my first goal after my long injury lay-off, i had played 3 matches before that and honestly i was rubbish. And having listened to so many snide remarks like "he is finished" , scoring that diving header and looking them in the eye was just priceless !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its just that you have to look at yourself and the mirror and ask yourself , "Are you good enough to prove them wrong ?" The day, when the answer is in the negative would be the day that i stop respecting myself, not for knowing that i am not good enough anymore,but just for thinking that i could be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-923849524120523113?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/923849524120523113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=923849524120523113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/923849524120523113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/923849524120523113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/03/doubters-and-bastards.html' title='Doubters And Bastards !'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-5609291811563274325</id><published>2008-03-28T17:54:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2008-11-13T22:42:20.904+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/R-zj_aB3DEI/AAAAAAAAAJw/bZ45xbYLzBM/s1600-h/hxasdsds.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182767949654985794" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/R-zj_aB3DEI/AAAAAAAAAJw/bZ45xbYLzBM/s400/hxasdsds.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is vaguely how the writer of this blog looks like. Ha ha.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-5609291811563274325?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/5609291811563274325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=5609291811563274325' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/5609291811563274325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/5609291811563274325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/03/just-to-start-this-thing-up.html' title=''/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/R-zj_aB3DEI/AAAAAAAAAJw/bZ45xbYLzBM/s72-c/hxasdsds.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-6211719348120875653</id><published>2008-02-24T01:51:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2008-04-12T01:59:18.829+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Get Well Soon Eduardo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/06_03/EduardoDaSilva_468x631.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/06_03/EduardoDaSilva_468x631.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Speaking from a personal experience i had an identical injury on Oct 2006,Judging from the pics its a sure case of ankle dislocation, but the scans will tell if there is a fracture along with the dislocation or not. No fracture would mean he can be back within 6 months. Also dislocations causes a lot of damage to the tissues,blood vessels and nerves which are pressurised by the dislocated bone and the skin, causing a lot of damage, and those things usually take a long time to regenerate.Nerve tissues wont, they simply die causing loss of sensation in that area.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know all this biological shite because i have had the exact same injury, i had a couple of operations, takes around 6-8 months, to even start walking normally, they might even insert steel plates so training and running is a complete no-no. I am telling you, it will be atleast a year and half till you see the best of Eduardo again, if there is a case of fracture along with the dislocation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Get well soon lad, you will need all the wishes ! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-6211719348120875653?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/6211719348120875653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=6211719348120875653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/6211719348120875653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/6211719348120875653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2008/02/get-well-soon-eduardo.html' title='Get Well Soon Eduardo'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-1452583165069096177</id><published>2006-12-06T18:58:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-30T18:34:12.108+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Problem With Modern Day Footballers</title><content type='html'>I recieved this in an email and its fucking hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm feeling all angry about these modern day footballers, I know why they have gone all soft - It's because of poncy names. That's what it is. Remember in the old days, when foot players kicked a fucking ball made out of ten pound of clay stitched inside a steel-reinforced leather shell with laces made out of piano wire?Well, in them days players could only survive the rigors of the game because they were called things like Albert, Arthur, Bert, Harry, Bill, Eddie, Bob, Jack and Tommy. Fucking tough names for tough men, them were. And what do we have now? Jason, Wayne, Dean, Ryan, Jamie, Robbie. Fucking tarts' names, they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great big fucking puffs. No wonder the ball's like a fucking balloon and shin pads is like slices of bread. In the old days you never saw a Len Shackleton or a Billy Wright with a puffy little Sondico piece of paper down his little thin socks. Fucking shin pads in them days was made out of library books, and socks was like sackcloth.Same with the jerseys. Fucking shirts with holes in now so they can breathe. Yes, so that little Jody's hairless chest can breathe and he doesn't get a chill. Fuck off. Stanley Matthews used to dribble round Europe's finest wearing a fucking tent and shorts cobbled together from the jacket of his de-mob suit. Aye, he fucking did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No wonder players fall over all the time whenever an opponent comes anywhere near them. And they never used to show their arses at one another either. Can you imagine what might have happened if Don Revie had flashed his ring at Nat Lofthouse during a City-Bolton Wanderers game? He'd have got one of them size 10 hobnail fuckers up his bastard chuff.Fucking therapy for stress my arse! Stan Collymore slaps his missus about and he takes three seasons off with stress counseling. What the fuck is that all about? In the old days it was expected for footballers to belt the old sow about a bit, specially after a bad defeat. And the women used to expect it, and so they should have. They were lucky to be married to footballers. Ha! Trevor Morley got a kitchen knife in his back off his wife and was out of action for three month. Soft twat. Archie McShitt of Port Vale got run over with horse and cart one Friday night and he still turned out against Bradford the following day. And he scored two goals. That's cos his name wasn't "Trevor".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good old Archie. Broke his hip, both his legs, murdered his wife and buried her under the patio and still made the England team for the Home Internationals. Did he have any "stress counselling"? Did he bollocks!And drugs? There was none of that in the old days. Oh, no. In them days it was a quick shot of morphine before kick-off and you were lucky if you got that. By half time it had all but wore off so they pumped you full of laudanum. None of this cocaine sniffing and shooting up class A narcotics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goal celebrations? Don't talk to me about goal celebrations. Crawling on the floor and thrusting their hips at the crowd. Huh! I'd like to have seen Cliff Bastin do that after a run down the left flank and crossing for Alex James to fire home a winner. Handshakes,and that was all you got. That and a wank in the showers afterwards. But it was a proper wank,all man stuff. None of these puffy wanks between blokes that you get nowadays with players like Greame Le Saux and Stephen Gerrard. Allegedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; In them days, there was nowt wrong with it cos it didn't mean nowt. They used to say there was a "gay atmosphere" in the dressing room after the match. But it didn't mean owt mucky. Just a bit of harmless spanking the plank among healthy young sportsmen. Aye. I know. Me dad told me.Sixty grand a fucking week! Ha! I wouldn't pay 'em tuppence. Two bob Tommy Lawton used to get a month! And Tom Finney still worked as a plumber four days a week when he was playing for England. It's true, you know.Fucking is. Players had to work them days just to make up their money. Not like today. Stan Pearson had to clean sewers and doubled up as Old Trafford shithouse cleaner. He had to go off during one game because some cunt had built a log cabin and blocked the U-bend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that Eddie Hapgood was a male model,though he never liked to talk about it.So I say we start calling kids real male names again. If you're having a kid, don't even consider puffy names and shite names like what people call their kids these days. Otherwise what we gonna get in twenty years' time? The England team full of players called Keanu, Ronan, Ashley and fucking Chesney. Fuck that! Call your kids Alf, Herbert, Len, Frank, Fred and Wilf. And let's get the puffs out of the game once and for all !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-1452583165069096177?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/1452583165069096177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=1452583165069096177' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/1452583165069096177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/1452583165069096177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2006/12/problem-with-modern-day-footballers.html' title='The Problem With Modern Day Footballers'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-5226498480904536864</id><published>2006-11-30T12:42:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2008-03-29T19:10:32.545+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Memories Of The Hospital...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/2260/147259207109651/1600/364497/Andy%20Cole%205.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/2260/147259207109651/320/580791/Andy%20Cole%205.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Plz Dont Try This At Home Or In Your School Grounds....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umm Well,It all started when we had this 11th vs 12th match in our school the other day.The match was scheduled after school,12th were really strong but we wernt bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The match started and predictably 12th had the upper hand.We preferred to play on the counter-attack like fucking Manchester City and i had to play in a very familiar role of a lone striker and our strategy was to play on the break and long balls where my strength and aeriel ability could be employed to set up quick counter attacks ,However we really were unable to get a foothold into the game my in my desperation i remember tackling the opposition defender (quite a few times).Few words were exchanged and nothing more.We couldnt have much poccession simply because we wernt good enough and needless to say, 12th were dominating.I did my share of running and tackling and chances were few and far and the game was congested in midfield as we put lots of bodies behind the ball.We did have a break-on once or twice but nothing really materialised,we were getting desperate because we knew that it was a matter of time before they score and after that it would a question of how many.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hoped a tackle or a run by anyone would spur the team on,but i could see shoulders drooping and then came a chance.Utkarsh played a glorious 1-2 with Vignesh and the ball was passed to Sagnik who crossed the ball to the near post.I gave the ball back to him and continued my run and he crossed again.The cross was deflected and it came wierdly at me.I tried an overhead bicycle kick but the space was limited because there was a defender very near me which gave me very less space to fee my legs hence i had to fold my left leg in mid-air.I landed on my ankle which had twisted and i heard a sickening crack like a dry twig getting snapped.&lt;br /&gt;Everything was a blur from then on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wont talk bout the physical pain cause thats all too obvious,the physical pain was undoubtedly unbearable but people often underestimate the mental trauma associated with the injury like this .You feel empty with a feeling of hopelessness sorrounding you.There was uncertainity over if i would ever walk or play football again and the thought of the impending operation scared the shit out of me and all you do to kill time is look at the fan going round and round, till the end of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a feeling of guilt for doin the stupid stupid bicycle thing and feeling of the reality which shrieked out that even a single mistake and your life can be fucked beyond repair.Feelings of insecurity and helplessness were pretty evident and you feel distanced from the so called "normal" people.You also live that horrible moment again and again and and hear the sound of your bone snapping into two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day is saw Eduardo suffer an identical injury as me.My heart goes all out for him, and hope you recover soon !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-5226498480904536864?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/5226498480904536864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=5226498480904536864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/5226498480904536864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/5226498480904536864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2006/11/memories-of-hospital.html' title='Memories Of The Hospital...'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1206347424642263252.post-2767314295150092105</id><published>2006-11-29T13:47:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2006-11-29T13:51:27.719+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My First Post....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/2260/147259207109651/1600/66041/8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/2260/147259207109651/320/656490/8.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is my first post.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1206347424642263252-2767314295150092105?l=rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/feeds/2767314295150092105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1206347424642263252&amp;postID=2767314295150092105' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/2767314295150092105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1206347424642263252/posts/default/2767314295150092105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rohitsahakeane.blogspot.com/2006/11/my-first-post_29.html' title='My First Post....'/><author><name>Rohit Saha</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16919147673981874762</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Zs23qDBqC_c/S20Ut-Da4aI/AAAAAAAAAlY/MVj3YOabEoU/S220/fdfd.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
