<?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-26302403</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:35:25.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>it_just_happened</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramashares.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26302403/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramashares.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>it_just_happened</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12072684791749166607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26302403.post-115554461169228178</id><published>2006-08-14T01:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-14T01:36:51.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The thought of it</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/1600/DSC00213.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#000000;"&gt;It was still a good 7 days to go but the excitement was no less to if Diwali was just a day away. It must be accepted that it is not just Diwali the reason for the buzz. The excitement should be attributed to the very thought of stepping into our Native&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/1600/000018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/320/000018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Place, a solid 90 minutes’ drive away from here. All of us had our own plans and were completely enthralled about it. If I were to catch up with my cricketing habits and friends there, my brothers wanted to be amidst the other boys of their age whom they miss so intensely. Mom had a very different plan of going to the temple as the first obligation after reaching there and that is no surprise given her spiritual interests. To be frank, that plan had always looked thick to me. It’s not that I’m a nonconformist but the very idea of going to temple when you have so many to meet has always remained enigmatic to me.&lt;br /&gt;I’m still trying hard to fathom any reasoning behind it, if at all there’s any.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took so long for every day to die out as we started questioning time’s benign nature and I personally concluded that there’s no such once the ‘common’ plan was announced. The plan appeared so rude to me personally as everyone would start a day earlier and I had to stay till the very day before Diwali. Reason-I had my official duties to be attended to. ‘Why can’t they wait for me?’ mumbled I within myself unable to stop them from starting as planned. I was all alone that night and was already complaining all that I could muster against my fate. The first light next morning had nothing to improve anything in me. Oddly, I found an aversion towards office. I somehow tried to put things behind and walked towards office as reluctant as a Shakespeare’s schoolboy would on a Monday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was already thinking about the mad rush that I might have to encounter that evening in the bus. There were no reservations done and it being Diwali at the crack of the dawn, no fool would venture a travel now. But I had no option! The evening arrived. People were wishing for Diwali but I was already rushing towards the gate not bothering to wish them back. All that I had in mind was to be there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow, I managed to get into a bus and to no wonder of mine there was no room for me to even shift my balance. But everyone inside was too excited to think of all these. All they had in mind was the very thought of being there. It was a motley crowd with people from all classes inside, the reason being obvious as the road is the only means to reach there. If there was a spruce looking gentleman and his family, there was this vociferous bevy of people whose voices thrived into the drums of everyone in. The kind of noise and the deep rooting pungent smell would have inflicted vertigo any day but not on this day! My deep felt agony all the while was slowly getting mitigated with every inch the bus moved towards its destination. Was feeling keyed up within as the bus meandered through the serpentine road. And there it reached the busiest street of the town, which also hosted the bus-stand. The haughty driver blew the horn so loud as though he is about to land an aircraft in the mid of the road. Finally, we are here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stepping out of bus, the first thing that caught my eyes was the neatly lit tower of the temple, which stood fascinatingly bright in the looming dark behind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/1600/DSC00213.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/1600/DSC00213.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/1600/DSC00213.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/1600/DSC00213.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 209px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 281px" height="225" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/320/DSC00213.0.jpg" width="240" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;color:#000000;"&gt;That was a sight worth treasuring for the lifetime for I always shared an inexplicable bond with it. Our residence was just a street away from there. But it took me an hour to reach there for I had to meet all the relatives on my way home. There was rarely a building that did not house a relative in the two adjacent streets, also called the ‘Maada Veedhi’. And there they stood, all my childhood friends, at the separation between two streets, waving briskly at me. I did not even think before my hand responded. My mom was already awaiting my arrival at the verandah of our house and I had to quickly conspire with them about when and where to meet and stepped into my house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing that greeted me was the smell of Gulab-jamun getting fried. That was enough announcement proclaiming ‘It’s Diwali next morning’! I was at my rapturous best. My mom and my brothers whom I loathed so much that morning appeared to be the largess gifts I could think of. After all, human mind is the fastest changing on earth. After quickly refreshing myself I was hurrying through the dinner. All the while, my mom was throwing furtive looks at me. And there entered my dad looking evidently busy and annoyed. To make matters worse, my mom stopped me when I tried to slip away silently. The presence of my dad invigorated her as she trammeled my plans for the night. I felt as though my basic rights were under threat. Why shouldn’t I go out and meet my friends after so many months? What under the heaven is bothering them even after my promise that I would get up early in the morning the next day? I could sense an implacable hatred towards this practice of celebrating Diwali so early in the day. I had to be there among them tonight else my absence would go down as a dastardly act in the history of our team. I did not want that to happen. But after minutes of confrontation I was able to win over my dad’s confidence and flew straight to the place where we had earlier conspired to meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There they were as prompt as they had always been. It took some time for them to accept my penitence. From then on, it rolled, rolled and rolled till it was as late as 2 hours past midnight. But 5 hours was no time for us to discuss everyone’s fortunes in the recent past, decide on which team to play against the next day and of course, how to make the Diwali more memorable. This is the moment I was longing for all these days. To discuss about our Cricket team and to plan our strategy for the next match is something that I would pay anything for. I had never been an imperious captain but I would always be very serious about the job in hand, at the same time. All said and decided, we thought it’s high time we broke for the night. Was thrilled about the match to be played the next day and that meant I cared not even a puny for what my mom had to say for being so late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was shaken so wildly that I felt as if falling from the greatest of heights. It was my brother trying to wake me for he had no time to waste on me. I was pushed hard all along during my oil-bath till I was ready in the ‘Pooja’ room, which I felt was wearing a new look what with new dresses and crackers adorning it. After the bursting of crackers with the initial enthusiasm, our attention turned to the varieties of sweets prepared. What followed is of course, our usual visit to all our relatives’ houses and distribution of sweets. After a couple of hours we realized that all the houses have been covered. That was the moment I was waiting for. Now I’m free for the day!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest of the day was exciting as expected. A cricket match with an opponent who is far low in resources compared to us is always a cakewalk. But we always wanted to play against them as our team had a policy of not losing on such an auspicious day as Diwali. The result as it had to be was in our favour and it was achieved with such an ease that any international team would like to lay hands on. It has been an un-written rule in our club that the money won in the match should not last till we reach home. As though to facilitate this precept of our team, there was one small shop in that God-Forsaken land near the Cricket ground which is a good 2 miles from the town. We had all that we could manage in that small ransom we won and of course, it had always been ‘first-come-first-serve’ basis. Whoever had left ground early and reached here would get the bulk of the purchase. And as it should be, the Man-Of-the-Match has to pool in his win for the day too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the evening as it had always been, we met at the temple. It always had a maudlin ambience or at least it did with us. &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/1600/000029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="176" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/320/000029.jpg" width="272" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;That’s the place where we always part our ways at the end of the day. After a long eventful day, it was time for us to bid good-bye and wish luck to each other. Heart was as heavy as it could get. I have always wondered how it turns out to be as heavy as a Cudgel, which was just like fledgling minutes back. Yes, I have friends a myriad away from here but this feeling that mounts up every time when I’m here is completely strange. No! Let me not call it strange for who would not be down when he had to part ways with the kith with whom he has grown up; whom he regards as his; whom he feels he could turn to any day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘You are not drowned my boy’, I told myself. After all, this break is not eternal and there’s Diwali every year! Then I heard the haughty driver blowing his horn as I crawled my way towards it muttering ‘365’, the number of days left for the next Diwali...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Ramanujam Achan (Ever Yearning).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26302403-115554461169228178?l=ramashares.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramashares.blogspot.com/feeds/115554461169228178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26302403&amp;postID=115554461169228178' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26302403/posts/default/115554461169228178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26302403/posts/default/115554461169228178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramashares.blogspot.com/2006/08/thought-of-it.html' title='The thought of it'/><author><name>it_just_happened</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12072684791749166607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26302403.post-114888527475958114</id><published>2006-05-28T23:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-28T23:47:54.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wild, Untamed and Free-Spirited</title><content type='html'>[The sweet lil’ kid I met at the college on graduation day]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Echoes slowly diminishing,&lt;br /&gt;dust settling down.&lt;br /&gt;An evening of importance,&lt;br /&gt;for I graduated from a sophomore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arrayed in black,&lt;br /&gt;was so common a sight.&lt;br /&gt;There amidst of it,&lt;br /&gt;was this awesome kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WILD at her feet,&lt;br /&gt;was at rapturous best.&lt;br /&gt;Her 'hind' legs a pair,&lt;br /&gt;meant wings are here at par.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waddled through the crowd,&lt;br /&gt;floundering all the way,&lt;br /&gt;but never she weaned,&lt;br /&gt;for this sweet lil' soul is UNTAMED.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joy that was so obvious...&lt;br /&gt;the radiance in her visage...&lt;br /&gt;the freedom she tasted...&lt;br /&gt;oh! Is this called visceral?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ephemeral was her (our) joy,&lt;br /&gt;the FREE-SPIRITED got apprehended.&lt;br /&gt;The epitome of verve,&lt;br /&gt;was made not to move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The quail she made,&lt;br /&gt;that rings still...&lt;br /&gt;The tryst was for minutes,&lt;br /&gt;but feel, know her for eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ramanujam Achan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26302403-114888527475958114?l=ramashares.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramashares.blogspot.com/feeds/114888527475958114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26302403&amp;postID=114888527475958114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26302403/posts/default/114888527475958114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26302403/posts/default/114888527475958114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramashares.blogspot.com/2006/05/wild-untamed-and-free-spirited.html' title='Wild, Untamed and Free-Spirited'/><author><name>it_just_happened</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12072684791749166607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26302403.post-114872227343919532</id><published>2006-05-27T02:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-13T02:32:27.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>30 Minutes in Train</title><content type='html'>There I stood in the deserted railway station waving at my friend. It appeared to me as though we both started off together from my home to the temple just a minute before but in actual it was four hours before! Now it is time to part ways as we had to travel opposite to reach our respective homes. Her train arrived first and she got into it in the last minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I’m alone wondering how to kill the time till I reach home. It took another 5 minutes for a train to emerge in the direction opposite to which her train had faded away in the looming dark. The train came to a halt at the station with a loud thud. There were only 4 of us waiting for the train in the station. There weren’t many getting down either. I almost ran through the length of the train searching for a compartment that could welcome me with an empty seat. Lucky me! Found one. ‘Just 30 more minutes at the maximum’, consoled myself looking at my wristwatch which promptly showed 9.01 pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving inside the compartment, I just browsed through it. It was a typical ‘late evening’ crowd inside with office goers forming the majority of it. No it wasn’t to be. I was camouflaged by my first look. On a second look, I confirmed that it was a motley crowd inside and only few of them appeared to be office goers. I settled myself in the seat, which I had located from outside the compartment. The train started tugging its way with a loud horn (I felt it to be too loud for I was in the second compartment from the start).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘What next?’ asked I restlessly as my eyes did another round of survey. I suddenly felt some sort of interest surging in. Why but? Answer unraveled yet! It interested me to know what everyone is up to. Whom to start with? That was the billion-dollar question that night for me. I looked around again but very seriously this time. I had a mission. My eyes got fixed on a pretty looking girl in a red t-shirt sitting in the seat diagonal to mine. She wasn’t cheerful, I was sure. ‘Beep beep’, screamed her mobile. She was so quick to cut it off before it went full. Probably she was expecting a message, I construed. She read it with such eagerness that only a student checking his result could portray. Her face went blank. That must have been disappointing news for sure. She got a call the next second. She started bickering with the person at the other end. But it was a chide full of love, full of concern, full of caring. Slowly, it all melted away and she started to smile. Good that her boyfriend was successful in placating her at last. She has mended her way with her boy friend. Cool!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I moved on to the man sitting next to her. He was a complete misfit to be seated next to that girl. He had not shaved for ages and that was very much palpable. He had not buttoned his shirt and cared the least for his appearance in public. He must be in his early 40’s, I guessed. He was completely lost in the book, which he held in his hand. The magazine’s name read ‘Thuklak’, a popular one in Tamil. Never did he appear bothered to know what was happening around. No reaction what so ever! Fanatic behind politics is what I could deduce of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seated in the seat opposite to him were two natty gentlemen. They both were involved in some serious talk. I thought it wouldn’t be a crime to give an ear to their harangue. It was actually about investing in shares. One of them was completely against the idea of shares. They held a ‘Business World’ each in their hands and were debating on the best time to embark on shares. ‘Not my cup of tea’ told I as my eyes rolled further.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next in sight were the four rugged young men, two on each side, sitting in the seats parallel to me. The eyes of the two, who were facing the direction I was, as though no exception to the fantasies of teenagers, were fixed on that pretty girl who was now in harmony with her boyfriend. Chatting and commenting loudly they proved how glib mouthed they are when it comes to an oration of ‘this’ kind. That sight for a moment took me back to my college days. Oh boy! What a miscreant I had been!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanking them for the ‘flashback’, I checked on my mobile though there was no invitation from it. I thus carefully avoided the ruthless sight of one of those boys who had noticed that I’ve been watching them for quite sometime. Needless to say, I was the subject of their caricature from then on. I was then forced to look outside the window for reasons obvious. I HAD to ignore their conversation or at least pretend to be so. The train was doing a good 90Kmph tearing the black ahead. For sometime, I stayed put watching the beauty of Chennai by night through a train window. Hey, there was definite sarcasm there in that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was not long before I found it difficult to continue with, with so many ‘interesting’ personalities around. I immediately realized that I’m not done yet with the men near me. The one at the window opposite to me looked visibly exhausted. Must have been a demanding day at work. He had just loosened his knot; should have been too tired to remove the tie. It was wafting around his neck in the slow, gentle zephyr that also undid his neatly done hair. He was half asleep already with his hands holding on to his briefcase very tightly even at this state of his. He must have got used to this, I thought. People work so late even during weekends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My focus next turned to the old man next to him. He must be a septuagenarian, if I was right. His forehead was resplendent with the straight line of saffron. He was deeply immersed in a Sanskrit version of Ramayana reciting few lines from it every now and then. The sight of Ramayana reminded me of my friend whom I just saw off at the station. She was such a fervent admirer of ‘Sri Ram’ and ‘Hanuman’. Her depiction of scenes of Ramayana was so freshly etched in my memory that I at times, wondered if Valmiki would have been so thriving at it with me. I was so curious to know which chapter he was at. Of course, as usual, knew I not the reason. Was a bit reluctant in asking him about it for I felt he would consider it sacrilegious to disturb him in his recital. I didn’t succeed till the end though, as he closed it and was busy pushing it inside the small bag that dangled from his shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of a sudden, my eyeballs rolled towards the figure in red moving past me. Yeah, it was she; that pretty girl. Where is she getting down? I wanted to know. As I looked outside the window to know which station it was, I got to see the ‘lover boy’ in my imagination turn into life. Yes, her man was there to receive her. She gave him a gentle push once she reached him. Then both joined hands and started walking, whispering into each other’s ears in turn. What a lovely sight it makes to see them vanish with ecstasy unbound!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I slowly turned my attention back to my compartment and to my astonishment none of ‘my’ people was there seated. I swept past the entire compartment again hoping to see at least one of them. Most of them had got down and a few in queue to get down. Now again I looked outside the window to check which station it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘TAMBARAM’, the board read! Oh boy! I had to get down too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was thanking all ‘my’ characters for making my evening memorable, the pretty girl, the enigmatic unkempt man, the business minded duo, the teenagers, the workaholic, the religious old man and of course my friend, as I climbed my way up the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘21:31’ read the Railway clock. ‘The train in the platform one would go to shed’ was the announcement. More than the driver himself, I felt a real sense of satisfaction for the train having done its duty for the day. Need I explain why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ramanujam Achan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26302403-114872227343919532?l=ramashares.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramashares.blogspot.com/feeds/114872227343919532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26302403&amp;postID=114872227343919532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26302403/posts/default/114872227343919532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26302403/posts/default/114872227343919532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramashares.blogspot.com/2006/05/30-minutes-in-train.html' title='30 Minutes in Train'/><author><name>it_just_happened</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12072684791749166607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26302403.post-114526991760463112</id><published>2006-04-17T03:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-17T00:40:50.820-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Formula 1 Fever!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/1600/3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 149px" height="185" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/320/3.jpg" width="256" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After being captivated for ages by the vintage strokes and rattling of timber, this nation is slowly recognizing the plethora of talents in other sports too. People are slowly emerging out of the spellbound of the ‘Sachins’ and ‘Sehwags’ though a thought of cricket being usurped by any other sport from the top spot would be farfetched at this minute. From the raucous ambience that prevails over the Eden Gardens, the focus is now slowly moving towards the fast tracks of ‘Formula 1’ too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to the world of Ferraris’ and McLarens’. Oh! Did I miss out the most important? Yep! I have. Welcome to the world of Jordans’ too. This is a sport that holds the world mesmerized from the moment the three lights go off. What a joy it brings to watch the ‘Red thing’ vanish in jiff before your eyes! What a feeling it creates when the cars disappear in no time leaving behind only the roar of their engines! The 200 minutes and odd battle on the road, involving the arguably world’s top 20 drivers who brave their life for their passion nets me at a loss of words to describe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crowd involvement here is restricted to nothing beyond sporting clothes of same colour as their favorite team. Such is the intensity of this sport for their driving heroes cannot afford to lose a moment’s concentration on them nor they get to hear a decibel of what their fans shout about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/1600/schumi1.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 199px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px" height="184" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/320/schumi1.0.jpg" width="253" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This sport is mind-boggling! This is demanding! This is enthralling!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/1600/Ralf.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It keeps its audience involved right from the flag off to the chequered flag. Of course, cricket has its own charm and aura. A tightly fought India-Pakistan tie can never even be thought for comparison with any other but still this motor sport promises something alike. It is a fascinating sight to watch the Prancing horses called Ferraris, the McLarens, the Williams’, the emerging Renaults and BARs pushing their wheels as hard as they could, risking their lives, to claim the top spot on the Podium! The sight of cars racing wheel-to-wheel is worth a dozen of Wasim Akram’s searing Yorkers or a hat trick of scorching straight hits to the fence from the blade of the ‘Little Master’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/1600/fiscichella.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 127px" height="183" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/169/2753/320/fiscichella.jpg" width="245" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The seeds of interest on this breathtaking sport have just been sowed on this soil, yet the response has already been phenomenal. But this is just a start to a sport that would definitely be an unparalleled crowd puller in the days to come. Awaiting the day when India stages a Formula One race, the day when Schumi blazes his way past the laps, the day when the ‘Red Thing’ goes past the eyes like a distant mirage. The day doesn’t seem too far. Wish it weren’t a mirage too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Ramanujam Achan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: Written after Narain's impressive debut in the F1 circuit!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/26302403-114526991760463112?l=ramashares.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ramashares.blogspot.com/feeds/114526991760463112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=26302403&amp;postID=114526991760463112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26302403/posts/default/114526991760463112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/26302403/posts/default/114526991760463112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ramashares.blogspot.com/2006/04/formula-1-fever.html' title='Formula 1 Fever!'/><author><name>it_just_happened</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12072684791749166607</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
