Yours Harshly...

So I was sipping coffee and watching an old cricket match on TV yesterday. And suddenly I started missing Harsha Bhogle a lot. I've always loved the man's ethics and placed him highest on the ladder of the world's best sport anchors. Although he's a lot more than just that.
So I googled his current whereabouts...going to the extent of hunting down his e-mail id and stuff!
I stumbled on several of his articles along the way and saved some for later reading.

I read this and for some reason, a lump formed in my throat and a tear flowed down my eye. You know when something like that happens, you're reading the works of a great man.
Its an ancient article, but every Harsha Bhogle fanatic must unabashedly go ahead and read it.

P.S: Its my 100th post. Its taken some time coming and its turned out to be a link redirecting you somewhere else! But no remorse, no regret.

Been a while!

You get onto your blog that stands unupdated since close to a month and embark upon another silent session of self-reproach. You convince yourself that its primarily because of an acute lack of time. And you foolishly hope to kid others with that. A couple of refreshing blogger meets later, there is suddenly an influx of time along with loads of renewed muse to write.
You promptly set things in such an order as to put your mental machinery in some gear..vis-a-vis Carly Simon on winamp, cold Appy and a new notepad file.

A vast radiant mindfield. Music and voices hovering all around us. Yellow tulips swaying in the warm afternoon breeze. Water spraying forth from an ivory-basined fountain, droplets dancing in the light and settling down on the green grass. Forms of life moving in blissful idyll, relaxed and dreamy. The west sky roseates, the sun drowning me slowly.
A beautiful woman comes riding a horse in through a wave of great fragrance. Black eyes with limpid whites, dreamy as in a post-coital state (from all the horse-riding). A graceful mouth and an elegant nose. Lusty build, full and firm. She descends with utmost elan, walks towards me in a gait laden with flair. I rise, out of libidinous respect.
"Stormeth my great longing to help thee. Cometh hither and speak unto me about thyself."
She flashes the sweetest smile ever and speaks thus through vermillion lips:
"Is it possible to build a P2P file-sharing application without bootstrapping nodes and multiple TCP connections?"

Thus began Zarathustra's down-going.
"Fucketh off, ye sassy biyatch! And ne'er showest your face unto me again."

Carly Simon, in the meanwhile ends "Nobody does it better" .


Exam time, ladies and gents. I really haven't had enough time to do too much else but cram and pick my nose while doing it. Ofcourse, there's the odd pleasant thought about women riding horses and other ideas about horsing. I recently claimed copyrights for a couple of horsey jokes I mailed to Readers Indigest. Get a barf bag.

What do you call a war horse with respiratory problems?: A wild broncho.
What do you call a race horse with a noose tied around its neck?: A well-hung stud.

Well I can get really bored with Client Server Computing ya know, and I have to come up with jokes to amuse myself to keep the mojo risin!
I'm studying these days with orange juice and junk food I prefer to call relaxatives. They catalyse the amusement process a bit.

So till next time,
Peas
And happy horsing!