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Raizada Heritage Fund and Trip to Woodlands

I have a confession to make. We don’t have a sofa at home. We seriously don’t.. Over the last two years, whenever Vartika has broached the touchy topic of a Sofa buy, I have ended up doing rants on how the money saved on not buying a Sofa would be able to feed us for a month, in case startup went bust. (And no, I was not counting on dumb UPA government allowing Sharad Pawar to make billions running amok on the vegetable and cereals market and looting us. In that case, count that sum to last for mere 15 days. That rant is for a separate day) Imagine a 30-40k sofa and me eating it, like the borers mostly do. Tough to imagine and sad to think of. So I return to the sofa tales. Vartika knew I had make her do with those mattresses. You know how dumb I am, relentlessly pointless. Unfortunately I ran into an Ariean, and that too my Mom. She looked at me and the mattresses and then again at me, and I went ballistic. From the sensibility of an accountant, to the eruditeness of an economist (De
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Raizada Heritage Fund and Pimping it!

Inspired by the Bombay lines which come to because of Bombay Rains. "When its dry, you can fry It rains and you walk in drains" I am surprised why have I not been able to realize this fact. A fact that is infact, been staring at me with cold blue eyes. The true passion of modern Indian Generation seems not to be an innovator, a creator, a discoverer, an Ayn Rand person. Based on the happenings of late, as in the last Ten years, it seems so, it really seems so. But I tell you, every time you want some work done like a passport, driving license, construction permission, company registration ... they suck every ounce of blood, so I ask why should I pay taxes honestly. Look at the shitty roads, shitty trains, shitty power supply, shitty water supply, shitty governance. With all my sagacity, sometime I want to rip a few and want to see the blood flow. Lets begin. Starting from 1999, Kargil. The Coffin Scam. The Purchase Scam. The Admiral Gorshokov Scam. The IC 814 Debacle. and If

Raizada Heritage Fund and "Jai Bolo Baba Rai Kam - Kaam Zada Ki"

It has been a long time indeed. I feel the need to write overcome all my stiff resistance, resistance to spend (read waste) time on things that are not related to the venture. I put in all my waking hours into it. I babble about derivatives and algorithms or so, my wife claims. Thankfully I can’t hear myself talk when I am asleep. For the past twenty four hours, I have been itching to write, some voice inside of me (also insistence on part of wife) coaxes me to write this time. I don’t know if what I write is worth it, I have always had feelings of worthlessness of output; the feeling of murderous rage inhabits some part of me. So let’s get to what I was itching about. I realize that Life has no meaning. At least I can’t find one. All of us, at one time or other, try to commit that mistake. I do that often. Repeat Offender!! I had been in love with this book by Scott Adams – Gods Debris. I have recommended it to a number of people and it’s free. I can really feel that the guy can feel

Raizada Heritage Fund and Revenge of the Homework

Last couple of months have been incredibly tough. Not in terms of work, effort or anything similar. They have been tough for there has been no diversion. Not a move to move away. All my life has been characterized by bypassing the tough things when they got tougher. I had always been able to justify it with an excuse, a new vagrancy, a “valid” desire for solitude, for seeing things... innumerable things that can somehow instil in you a curiosity. And I had move in such a way for avoiding things when they got tougher. I have been very critical of myself, all this while... while the desires and efforts burned away the edges off me, thus rounding the square peg that I was. The inevitability of life, I would have called it. But now I think I have gotten round to a point where I know. That is an achievement. I know that I belong, that I have tried, that I have succeeded. The dilettante is gone. Here comes the scrapper who won’t give an inch, who won’t budge, who won’t blink. Something like

Darr

Aaj bahut akela lag rahaa thaa.. pataa nahin kyun... aaj lagaa ki darr hai ... zaroor hai.. aur rahega... kabhi woh tum pe haawi to kabhi tum uspe lekin zindagi rahegi... aur ... kya rahey zinda? Jo tahastha hain samay karega unke gunaah taye... Bas keh diyaa jo kehna thaa.. thoda sa

Raizada Heritage Fund - Call to Alms

am sitting here and its 11 in the night ... Well I have been sitting here since 8 in the morning. And I wonder what plays. An old Don Maclean Song. American Pie. I mean that was supposed to be 10 years back. I was listening to them in first year at IITK. Its a comedy, tragedy, rollercoaster, rollicking.. all those adjectives that you use for things which you can't even remember ... but in the past they look magnificent. They look like they should come back and when you really really remember hard, it just sounds that important. I mean, why is it so important. why will it ever be important. It won't even be a footnote in any book. So much for histrionics. When I was sixteen, I had drawn a plan. A complete plan. Some sort of Dummies Guide to Life and all things thereof. Now I know it was an incredible thing for me to do. Because everyone at that age does make a plan. But these is plenty that had not even accounted for, the grimy details, the listless days, the unanswered questi