#RaiseYourOneBlade
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
Philips Norelco Oneblade Usage & Review
#RaiseYourOneBlade
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Understanding how change becomes differences
When I think of my childhood, I remember people less vividly than I remember things. I remember scented erasers topped with a strip of translucent green. Also a cheaper eraser enigmatically called Sandow. And soap - the history of Indian homes in the 1960s and 1970s can be written in soap and detergent.
Lifebuoy was the soap you washed your hands with afterwards. Hamam or Cinthol was the bar to bathe with except for people with aspirations who bought Moti, a fat round of soap too large for small hands, or Pears. But Pears was posh; any household that routinely used Pears was the sort of place that bought crates of Coca Cola instead of bottles of Kissan orange squash, where the children went to boarding school and owned complete sets of comics.
The only detergent that seems to have survived as a brand is Surf. Not that anyone used the word 'detergent' in the 1960s. Surf was detergent: it was the generic word for any powdered soap that came in a box and was used to wash clothes. Nobody had heard of Rin or Nirma; a cheap yellow cake of washing soap called Sunlight was widely used, but it was an inferior thing, used off-stage by the hired help, not the housewife.
There was a soap to wash woollens with called Lux Flakes, which smelt nice, but disappeared from the market early on. I think our parents liked the thought of collecting petrol-perfumed woollens in giant brown paper bags so much that they were willing to pay Novex, Snowhite or Bandbox a bit extra for that privilege. Dry-cleaning was a way of being modern, smart and confidently good class.
Nearly everybody used Colgate and that hasn't changed, but for a while Binaca Green was a real contender. We were pioneering ecological puritans: we brushed our teeth with a horrible non-foaming toothpaste that left us with a bad taste in the mouth entirely because it claimed to be made up of chlorophyll. The only good thing to be said for Binaca Green was that it sponsored the Radio Ceylon programmes "The Binaca Hit Parade" and, later, of filmi songs called Binaca Geet Mala.
There was a short-lived star in the toothpaste stakes, though, called Signal, which came in white and red stripes. Even a child my age who could barely recognize a polysyllabic word knew that the red stripes were made of a magical substance called hexachlorophene. Not that we cared: our interest was limited to our scientific curiosity about how the toothpaste worm came out continuously striped. It was later that I learnt that hexachlorophene caused fits and paralysis and was especially bad for children.
Summer was announced by the ganeriwala or the sugar-cane man who stationed his cart outside the house and ran giant sticks of sugar-cane, six at a time, through his hand-cranked press. Then he'd double the husked sticks and run them through again - and again and again. The juice ran through a sieve filled with broken ice into an aluminium jug. Before he gave you the glass, he mixed in a patented powder that was nine parts kala nimak, a kind of rock salt. The juice, the 'ganne ka ras', was nectar and no one really minded about the dirt or the germs or the deep black of his fingernails for the same reason as no one boiled water at home or bought water outside except from vendors who sold it for two paise a glass: because we were stupid and didn't mind dying young.
The cotton-carder and the sugar-cane man are nearly extinct. When I was a child in Kashmeri Gate, the chuskiwala would visit once a week with his brown wooden box lined with a kind of woolen felt. He would then shape for us roughly conical lumps of shaved ice and colour them with radioactive liquids. They were horrible, unnatural colours; I ate the ice lollies because all my older cousins did. I later became an enthusiastic patron of the four-anna orange bar peddled by the Kwality Ice Cream man in the neighbourhood.
But because my childhood happened in an autarkic India, committed to the twin gods of self-sufficiency and high tariff barriers, it was the things that we didn't have that I remember better than the ones that we did. Orange bars, HMV records, Godrej refrigerators, bond paper, Cadbury's Fruit & Nut, Naga shawls, Phantom peppermint cigarettes and ugly walnut tables from Kashmir were nice but they were available (if your parents had the money to spare) and therefore not nearly as desirable as the things you couldn't have except from that supermarket in the sky called "foreign".
Wrigley's Spearmint, Quality Street and (for unknowable reasons) Kraft cheese was the toll that foreign returners routinely paid for going abroad without their families, but these were perishable things from an inferior heaven. The real loot, or maal, was impossibly rare consumer durables.
Seiko watches, for example, with 17 jewels and radium dials. Not one of us knew what jewels were doing inside a watch but they were precious and the number gave us a way of measuring value in the same way as 17 gun salutes told you something about the standing of a princely state.
The thing in question didn't have to be expensive: it merely had to be foreign and better in some real or imagined way than its Indian equivalent.
So if you played table tennis you craved Japanese Nittaku balls instead of the deceptively foreign-sounding but actually desi, Montana. Later the Chinese came up with cheap, virtually indestructible balls called Shield but those were never as fetishized as the Nittaku balls because they became increasingly available in India and where was the romance in that?
But nothing was as glamorous as a can of Dunlop tennis balls. Unlike Indian tennis balls, these were sealed in pressurized containers and when you pulled the metal tab, there was a little whoosh and you breathed in a compressed burst of scientific-smelling foreign air.
So geometry boxes by Staedtler, table tennis bats called Butterfly, Bic ballpoint pens, little flat torches that dangled off key-chains, and Parker 45 pens with impossible-to-buy-in-India ink cartridges - these were a few of our favourite and much desired things. We almost never got them, but when we did, we experienced a gloating fulfillment that only scarcity can induce.
Pundits sniff disapprovingly about the consumerism that the liberalisation of the economy has encouraged. This would seem to suggest that before 1991, Indians, willy-nilly, lived in a state of non-consuming grace. This is just not true; the children of the 1960s loved things much more intensely than their children do simply because they didn't have them.
You can spot us at a distance in airport terminals: we're the grey-haired men who can't tear themselves away from the cigarette cartons even though we stopped smoking three years ago and won't part with money to buy any for our friends. We are that odd cohort, a Duty-Free generation that never went abroad in its youth -
connoisseurs, therefore, of the unavailable.
Lifebuoy was the soap you washed your hands with afterwards. Hamam or Cinthol was the bar to bathe with except for people with aspirations who bought Moti, a fat round of soap too large for small hands, or Pears. But Pears was posh; any household that routinely used Pears was the sort of place that bought crates of Coca Cola instead of bottles of Kissan orange squash, where the children went to boarding school and owned complete sets of comics.
The only detergent that seems to have survived as a brand is Surf. Not that anyone used the word 'detergent' in the 1960s. Surf was detergent: it was the generic word for any powdered soap that came in a box and was used to wash clothes. Nobody had heard of Rin or Nirma; a cheap yellow cake of washing soap called Sunlight was widely used, but it was an inferior thing, used off-stage by the hired help, not the housewife.
There was a soap to wash woollens with called Lux Flakes, which smelt nice, but disappeared from the market early on. I think our parents liked the thought of collecting petrol-perfumed woollens in giant brown paper bags so much that they were willing to pay Novex, Snowhite or Bandbox a bit extra for that privilege. Dry-cleaning was a way of being modern, smart and confidently good class.
Nearly everybody used Colgate and that hasn't changed, but for a while Binaca Green was a real contender. We were pioneering ecological puritans: we brushed our teeth with a horrible non-foaming toothpaste that left us with a bad taste in the mouth entirely because it claimed to be made up of chlorophyll. The only good thing to be said for Binaca Green was that it sponsored the Radio Ceylon programmes "The Binaca Hit Parade" and, later, of filmi songs called Binaca Geet Mala.
There was a short-lived star in the toothpaste stakes, though, called Signal, which came in white and red stripes. Even a child my age who could barely recognize a polysyllabic word knew that the red stripes were made of a magical substance called hexachlorophene. Not that we cared: our interest was limited to our scientific curiosity about how the toothpaste worm came out continuously striped. It was later that I learnt that hexachlorophene caused fits and paralysis and was especially bad for children.
Summer was announced by the ganeriwala or the sugar-cane man who stationed his cart outside the house and ran giant sticks of sugar-cane, six at a time, through his hand-cranked press. Then he'd double the husked sticks and run them through again - and again and again. The juice ran through a sieve filled with broken ice into an aluminium jug. Before he gave you the glass, he mixed in a patented powder that was nine parts kala nimak, a kind of rock salt. The juice, the 'ganne ka ras', was nectar and no one really minded about the dirt or the germs or the deep black of his fingernails for the same reason as no one boiled water at home or bought water outside except from vendors who sold it for two paise a glass: because we were stupid and didn't mind dying young.
The cotton-carder and the sugar-cane man are nearly extinct. When I was a child in Kashmeri Gate, the chuskiwala would visit once a week with his brown wooden box lined with a kind of woolen felt. He would then shape for us roughly conical lumps of shaved ice and colour them with radioactive liquids. They were horrible, unnatural colours; I ate the ice lollies because all my older cousins did. I later became an enthusiastic patron of the four-anna orange bar peddled by the Kwality Ice Cream man in the neighbourhood.
But because my childhood happened in an autarkic India, committed to the twin gods of self-sufficiency and high tariff barriers, it was the things that we didn't have that I remember better than the ones that we did. Orange bars, HMV records, Godrej refrigerators, bond paper, Cadbury's Fruit & Nut, Naga shawls, Phantom peppermint cigarettes and ugly walnut tables from Kashmir were nice but they were available (if your parents had the money to spare) and therefore not nearly as desirable as the things you couldn't have except from that supermarket in the sky called "foreign".
Wrigley's Spearmint, Quality Street and (for unknowable reasons) Kraft cheese was the toll that foreign returners routinely paid for going abroad without their families, but these were perishable things from an inferior heaven. The real loot, or maal, was impossibly rare consumer durables.
Seiko watches, for example, with 17 jewels and radium dials. Not one of us knew what jewels were doing inside a watch but they were precious and the number gave us a way of measuring value in the same way as 17 gun salutes told you something about the standing of a princely state.
The thing in question didn't have to be expensive: it merely had to be foreign and better in some real or imagined way than its Indian equivalent.
So if you played table tennis you craved Japanese Nittaku balls instead of the deceptively foreign-sounding but actually desi, Montana. Later the Chinese came up with cheap, virtually indestructible balls called Shield but those were never as fetishized as the Nittaku balls because they became increasingly available in India and where was the romance in that?
But nothing was as glamorous as a can of Dunlop tennis balls. Unlike Indian tennis balls, these were sealed in pressurized containers and when you pulled the metal tab, there was a little whoosh and you breathed in a compressed burst of scientific-smelling foreign air.
So geometry boxes by Staedtler, table tennis bats called Butterfly, Bic ballpoint pens, little flat torches that dangled off key-chains, and Parker 45 pens with impossible-to-buy-in-India ink cartridges - these were a few of our favourite and much desired things. We almost never got them, but when we did, we experienced a gloating fulfillment that only scarcity can induce.
Pundits sniff disapprovingly about the consumerism that the liberalisation of the economy has encouraged. This would seem to suggest that before 1991, Indians, willy-nilly, lived in a state of non-consuming grace. This is just not true; the children of the 1960s loved things much more intensely than their children do simply because they didn't have them.
You can spot us at a distance in airport terminals: we're the grey-haired men who can't tear themselves away from the cigarette cartons even though we stopped smoking three years ago and won't part with money to buy any for our friends. We are that odd cohort, a Duty-Free generation that never went abroad in its youth -
connoisseurs, therefore, of the unavailable.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Kareena Kapoor Holi uncensored pics !!!
There is nothing to censor in this pic :)
Sunday, March 4, 2012
HomeFood Vs HomePage
My Mom asked me how can I share this lovely food prepared just for you ??
O Mom!! Its so simple. Share button is right there on your screen !!
O Wow !! said my mom.. Then she asked me "How do I get to know whether you find it tasty or not ??"
Hmmmm.... I paused !! Then i said "Hey its very simple... You'll get a notification from Facebook that your son like your home made food !!"
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Protecting Taj Mahal
This was how the Taj Mahal was protected from bomber jets in 1942 during world war.
It was covered with huge scaffold, to make it look like a stockpile of bamboo and misguide bombers.
I think the covering is still incomplete in this photo. It seems the whole of Taj Mahal was covered but this picture shows only the main dome covered. Maybe the govt didnt allow any photographers later to shoot the final scaffold cover.
During the India-Pakistan war in 1971, it was protected by covering it with a green cloth and making it almost invisible i.e camouflaged within the greenery around it.
Even in 2001, after the Sep 11 attack, Archaeological Survey of India took up the precautionary measure to cover it with cloth and it took them more than 20 days to do that!!
It was covered with huge scaffold, to make it look like a stockpile of bamboo and misguide bombers.
I think the covering is still incomplete in this photo. It seems the whole of Taj Mahal was covered but this picture shows only the main dome covered. Maybe the govt didnt allow any photographers later to shoot the final scaffold cover.
During the India-Pakistan war in 1971, it was protected by covering it with a green cloth and making it almost invisible i.e camouflaged within the greenery around it.
Even in 2001, after the Sep 11 attack, Archaeological Survey of India took up the precautionary measure to cover it with cloth and it took them more than 20 days to do that!!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
A R Rehman's Very rare interview
This is one of the oldest interviews of A R Rehman , see him when he was just a growing star.iOS 5 (Android Rip-Off?)
Recommended for Apple lovers and Apple haters..
Humanity in Animals
When... they were unable to operate the tap, this mother monkey opened the tap for them, allowed them to drink water, drank some water herself and then closed the tap before leaving the scene
PS: Do share this pic with your friends. It is proof that humanity does exist - even if we humans have forgotten it ourselves...!!!
Monday, October 3, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Truth about Raul Vinci (Rahul Gandhi)
A daring letter by an IIT'an to Rahul Gandhi. Plz read and SHARE .
A REPLY LETTER WRITTEN BY:
NITIN GUPTA (RIVALDO)
B. Tech, IIT Bombay
ON Rahul Gandhi: "I feel ashamed to call myself an INDIAN after seeing what has happened here in UP".
Dear Rahul,
YOU REALLY WANT TO FEEL ASHAMED???????
But don't be disappointed, I would give you ample reasons to feel ashamed... You really want to feel Ashamed..?
* First Ask Pranav Mukherjee, Why isn't he giving the details of the account holders in the Swiss Banks.
* Ask your Mother, Who is impeding the Investigation against Hasan Ali?
* Ask her, Who got 60% Kickbacks in the 2G Scam ?
* Kalamadi is accused of a Few hundred Crores, Who Pocketed the Rest in the Common Wealth Games?
* Ask Praful Patel what he did to the Indian Airlines? Why did Air India let go of the Profitable Routes ?
* Why should the Tax Payer pay for the Air India losses, when you intend to eventually DIVEST IT ANYWAY!!!
* Also, You People can't run an Airline Properly. How can we expect you to run the Nation?
* Ask Manmohan Singh. Why/What kept him quiet for so long?
* Are Kalmadi and A Raja are Scapegoats to save Big Names like Harshad Mehta was in the 1992 Stock Market Scandal ?
* Who let the BHOPAL GAS TRAGEDY Accused go Scot Free? (20,000 People died in that Tragedy)
* Who ordered the State Sponsored Massacre of SIKHS in 84?
* Please read more about, How Indira Gandhi pushed the Nation
Under Emergency in 76-77, after the HC declared her election to Lok Sabha Void!
* WHY ONLY HIGHLIGHT THIS ARREST?
Dear Rahul, to refresh your memory, you were arrested/detained by the FBI the BOSTON Airport in September 2001.
You were carrying with you $ 1,60,000 in Cash. You couldn't explain why you were carrying so much Cash.
(Incidentally He was with his Columbian girlfriend Veronique Cartelli, ALLEGEDLY, the Daughter of Drug Mafia. 9 HOURS he was kept at the Airport. Later then freed on the intervention of the then Prime Minister Mr. Vajpayee.. FBI filed an equivalent of an FIR in US and released him.
When FBI was asked to divulge the information, by Right/Freedom to Information Activists about the reasons Rahul was arrested ...
FBI asked for a NO OBJECTION CERTIFICATE from Rahul Gandhi.
So Subramaniyam Swami wrote a Letter to Rahul Gandhi, " If you have NOTHING to HIDE, Give us the Permission" HE NEVER REPLIED!)
Why did that arrest not make Headlines Rahul? You could have gone to the Media and told, "I am ashamed to call myself an INDIAN?".
Or is it that, you only do like to highlight Symbolic Arrests (like in UP) and not Actual Arrests (In BOSTON)
Kindly Clarify.....In any case, you want to feel ashamed, Read Along...
YOUR MOTHER'S SO CALLED SACRIFICE OF GIVING UP PRIME MINISTERSHIP in 2004.
According to a Provision in the Citizenship Act, A Foreign National who
becomes a Citizen of India, is bounded by the same restrictions, which an Indian would face, If he/she were to become a Citizen of Italy.
(Condition based on principle of reciprocity)
Now Since you can't become a PM in Italy, Unless you are born there.
Likewise an Italian Citizen can't become Indian PM, unless He/She is not born here!
Dr. SUBRAMANIYAM SWAMI (The Man who Exposed the 2G Scam) sent a letter to the PRESIDENT OF INDIA bringing the same to his Notice.
PRESIDENT OF INDIA sent a letter to Sonia Gandhi to this effect, 3:30 PM, May 17th, 2004.
Swearing Ceremony was scheduled for 5 PM the same Day. Manmohan Singh was brought in the Picture at the last moment to Save Face!!
Rest of the SACRIFICE DRAMA which she choreographed was an EYE WASH!!!
In fact Sonia Gandhi had sent, 340 letters, each signed by different MP to the PRESIDENT KALAM, supporting her candidacy for PM.
One of those letters read, "I Sonia Gandhi, elected Member from Rai Bareli, hereby propose Sonia Gandhi as Prime Minister."
So SHE was Pretty INTERESTED! Until She came to know the Facts! She didn't make any Sacrifice, It so happens that SONIA GANDHI
couldn't have become the PM of INDIA that time.
You could be Ashamed about that Dear Rahul!! One Credential Sonia G had, Even that was a HOAX!
THINK ABOUT YOURSELF.
You go to Harvard on Donation Quota. ( Hindujas Gave HARVARD 11 million dollars the same year, when Rajiv Gandhi was in Power)
Then you are expelled in 3 Months/ You Dropped out in 3 Months.... (Sadly Manmohan Singh wasn't the Dean of Harvard that time, else
you might have had a chance... Too Bad, there is only one Manmohan Singh!)
Then Why did you go about lying about being Masters in Economics from Harvard .. before finally taking it off your Resume upon questioning by Dr. SUBRAMANIYAM SWAMI (The Gentlemen who exposed the 2G Scam)
At St. Stephens.. You Fail the Hindi Exam. Hindi Exam!!!
And you are representing the Biggest Hindi Speaking State of the Country?
SONIA GANDHI's EDUCATIONAL QUALIFICATIONS
Sonia G gave a sworn affidavit as a Candidate that She Studied English at University of Cambridge According to Cambridge University, there is no such Student EVER! Upon a Case by Dr. Subramaniyam Swami filed against her, She subsequently Dropped the CAMBRIDGE CREDENTIAL from her Affidavit.
Sonia Gandhi didn't even pass High School. She is just 5th class Pass!
In this sense, She shares a common Educational Background with her 2G Partner
In Crime, Karunanidhi.
You Fake your Educational Degree, Your Mother Fakes her Educational Degree. And then you go out saying, " We want Educated Youth into Politics!" WHY LIE ABOUT EDUCATIONAL CREDENTIALS?
Not that Education is a Prerequisite for being a great Leader, but then you shouldn't have lied about your qualifications!
You could feel a little ashamed about Lying about your Educational Qualifications. You had your reasons I know, Because in India, WE
EDUCATION!
But who cares about Education, When you are a Youth Icon!!
YOUTH ICON
You traveled in the Local Train for the first time at the Age of 38.
You went to some Villages as a part of Election Campaign. And You won a Youth Icon!! ... That's why You are my Youth Icon.
For 25 Million People travel by Train Every day. You are the First
Person to win a Youth Icon for boarding a Train.
Thousands of Postmen go to remotest of Villages. None of them have yet gotten a Youth Icon. You were neither YOUNG Nor ICONIC!
Still You became a Youth Icon beating Iconic and Younger Contenders like
RAHUL DRAVID.
SURNAME
Shakespeare said, What's in a Name?
Little did he knew, It's all in the Name, Especially the Surname!
Speaking of Surname, Sir DO YOU REALLY RESPECT GANDHI, OR IS IT JUST TO
CASH IN ON THE GOODWILL OF MAHATMA?
Because the Name on your Passport is RAUL VINCI. Not RAHUL GANDHI..
May be if you wrote your Surname as Gandhi, you would have experienced, what Gandhi feels like, LITERALLY ( Pun Intended)
You People don't seem to use Gandhi much, except when you are fighting
Elections. ( There it makes complete sense).
Imagine fighting elections by the Name Raul Vinci...
You use the name GANDHI at will and then say, " Mujhe yeh YUVRAJ shabd
Insulting lagta hai! Kyonki aaj Hindustan mein Democracy hai, aur is shabd ka koi matlab nahin hai! YUVRAJ, Itna hi Insulting lagta hai, to lad lo
RAUL VINCI ke Naam se!!! Jin Kisano ke saath photo khinchate ho woh bhi isliye entertain karte hain ki GANDHI ho.. RAUL VINCI bol ke Jao... Ghar mein nahin ghusaenge!!!
You could feel ashamed for your Double Standards.
YOUTH INTO POLITICS.
Now You want Youth to Join Politics.
I say First you Join Politics. Because you haven't Joined Politics. You have Joined a Family Business.
First you Join Politics. Win an Election fighting as RAUL VINCI and Not Rahul Gandhi, then come and ask the youth and the Educated Brass for more involvement in Politics.
Also till then, Please don't give me examples of Sachin Pilot and Milind Deora and Naveen Jindal as youth who have joined Politics. They are not Politicians. They Just happen to be Politicians.
Much Like Abhishek Bachchan and other Star Sons are not Actors. They just happen to be Actors (For Obvious Reasons)
So, We would appreciate if you stop requesting the Youth to Join
Politics till you establish your credentials...
WHY WE CAN'T JOIN POLITICS!
Rahul Baba, Please understand, Your Father had a lot of money in your Family account ( in Swiss Bank) when he died.
Ordinary Youth has to WORK FOR A LIVING. YOUR FAMILY just needs to NETWORK FOR A LIVING
If our Father had left thousands of Crores with us, We might consider doing the same. But we have to Work. Not just for ourselves.
But also for you. So that we can pay 30% of our Income to the Govt. which can then be channelized to the Swiss Banks and your Personal Accounts under some Pseudo Names.
So Rahul, Please don't mind If the Youth doesn't Join Politics.
We are doing our best to fund your Election Campaigns and your Chopper Trips to the Villages.
Somebody has to Earn the Money that Politicians Feed On.
NO WONDER YOU ARE NOT GANDHIs. YOU ARE SO CALLED GANDHIs!!
Air India, KG Gas Division, 2G, CWG, SWISS BANK Account Details... Hasan
Ali, KGB., FBI Arrest..
You want to feel ashamed..?
Feel Ashamed for what the First Family of Politics has been reduced to... A Money Laundering Enterprise.
NO WONDER YOU ARE NOT GANDHI'S BY BLOOD. GANDHI is an adopted Name. For Indira didn't marry Mahatma Gandhi's Son.
For even if you had one GENE OF GANDHI JI in your DNA. YOU WOULDN'T HAVE
BEEN PLAGUED BY SUCH 'POVERTY OF AMBITION'
(Ambition of only EARNING MONEY)
You really want to feel Ashamed?
Feel Ashamed for what you ' SO CALLED GANDHI'S' have done to MAHATMA'S Legacy..
I so wish GANDHI JI had Copyrighted his Name!
Meanwhile, I would request Sonia Gandhi to change her name to $ONIA
GANDHI, and you could replace the 'R' in RAHUL/RAUL by the New Rupee Symbol!!!
RAUL VINCI : I am ashamed to call myself an Indian.
Even we are ashamed to call you so!
P.S: Popular Media is either bought or blackmailed, controlled to Manufacture Consent! My Guess is Social Media is still a Democratic
Platform. (Now they are trying to put legislations to censor that too!!).
Meanwhile, Let's ask these questions, for we deserve some Answers.
YOURS SINCERELY
NITIN GUPTA ( RIVALDO)
B. Tech, IIT Bombay
Friday, September 30, 2011
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