"They don't understand why we do it.
They don't understand it's about the man next to you. "
War. It is never about heroics or glory. Neither is it a game for the boys in us men.
War is messy, relentless and brutal. And very much unforgiving. You do not decide who live or die. People die when they die. No one can choose. That is war. There are no heros in wars. Only survivors.
Why do we then fight?
War is about fighting for our rights to believe. To believe what we hold true in our hearts. It is about the sacrifices we make for people we care about and love so dearly. It is about the man fighting along side with you.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
Digging pictures from the past...
[Barobushna villagers performance - The performace marked the end of our 2 weeks stay at the village. In that 2 weeks, we helped with the construction of the communal hall and helped the healthcare workers go around checking on the health of the villager's new born baby]
[Sunset over country side - This was taken on the rooftop of the place we stayed during our stint in the village. The 3 story building is called "pallisathi".]
[this shot needs to be setup one okie - one of the temples that we visited in Kolkata. We had purposely waited for the gluttony pigeons to settle down eating the grains off the floor before my friends intentionally ran across it, creating this furore of feathered wings and smiling faces. ]
[some tomb... - I remembered this place was called the hymmi someting something tomb. Anyway, i like this shot quite a bit. ]
[Sunset over India's railway line - This was day 2 of 3 during our trip back to Kolkata from Agra. I risked my head to take a photo of the setting sun while a cargo train whizzed by. ]
[Onion looking temple - This picture never fails to remind me of onions!]
[sunset - Barobushna village. Just took this picture for the fun of it. And digital photos is free!]
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Maserati GranTurismo Coupe
A certain fudgy creature requested for this pocket burner. Sigh. Anyhow, the new GT will sport a 4.2L , 8 cylinder, vee-configuration with 405bhp on tap. This will be mated to a flappy paddle gear box. (similar to the one found in the quattroporte). I'm guessing front/mid engine layout plus rear wheel drive. I guess we will know more come september.
Actually, in all honesty, I think the GT looks like an evil (and not to mention hungry looking) catfish with it's mouth wide open. Mmmm, gluttony car. Now I can appreciate the reason why the blob of fudge likes this car.
Now, the above is what I call a great-looking car. The Aston Martin Rapide Concept. Longer but sleeker than the existing DB9, it whizzes 4 persons in total comfort unlike the GT which you have to literally stuff 2 persons into the cramped rear seats. And that only happens if any unfortunate soul is even willing to accept your offer of being a rear passenger.
Let's just hope the production car in 2009 will be an exact replica of the concept. Now, that is something worth slogging for! =p
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Bolster
My bolster.
Soft and comfortable.
To hug. To hold.
Your smell lingers on it.
A sweet, pleasant scent.
Of love and sacrifices.
The night. A vessel of solitude.
A desolate quietness.
Suffocating me.
Clinging the bolster close.
I feel you beside me.
Embracing me.
Solitary is no more.
Soft and comfortable.
To hug. To hold.
Your smell lingers on it.
A sweet, pleasant scent.
Of love and sacrifices.
The night. A vessel of solitude.
A desolate quietness.
Suffocating me.
Clinging the bolster close.
I feel you beside me.
Embracing me.
Solitary is no more.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
*hiakz hiakz II*
I think if I don't stop coughing soon, my lungs will come out for sure...I concur, seriously, dry coughing is definately worse than suffering from fever,sore throat and flu combo.
got to go...my left lung just popped out of my mouth
got to go...my left lung just popped out of my mouth
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
*hiakz hiakz*
This is the second night in a row where my cough is disrupting my sleep. After waking for the second time from my coughing performance this morning, I decided that maybe, just maybe, having a dry hacking cough is worse than having a fever, sore throat and running nose combo. At least you do not sneeze when you are asleep.
Strangely, after going back to sleep (since it was only 7 am), I had a weird dream. I dreamt that I was in an execution chamber with clear glass panels for others to view in. There were rows of seats, like those you find in a Lecture Theater. In my dream, there were only 7 people, of which 5 of them is from the band 五月天. And in the execution chamber, they have this machine, which was white in color. I was seating on a black chair attached to the machine.
This machine has an extended arm ending in a thick metallic rod from which lethal liquid can be introduced. A control unit controls the amount of fluid to be used. The executioner sets the number to 120 (I have no idea what unit of measurement that is) and he proceeded to place the thick metal rod at the back of my neck. Apparently there is a device attached to the back of my neck which you can insert the rod in. I ask the executioner if I could request for五月天 to sing 天堂 for me. (天堂 is not even sung by them! Haha…but I got to admit that it was a good crappy choice for a last song) After which, they proceeded to inject the lethal liquid into me (the control unit numbers was running from 0 to 120 at this point in time). And the sensation feels similar to receiving an injection; A slight numbing pain from the pressure of the liquid going in.
The funny thing in this dream was, I never get to hear 五月天 singing 天堂 for me. Hahaha.
Strangely, after going back to sleep (since it was only 7 am), I had a weird dream. I dreamt that I was in an execution chamber with clear glass panels for others to view in. There were rows of seats, like those you find in a Lecture Theater. In my dream, there were only 7 people, of which 5 of them is from the band 五月天. And in the execution chamber, they have this machine, which was white in color. I was seating on a black chair attached to the machine.
This machine has an extended arm ending in a thick metallic rod from which lethal liquid can be introduced. A control unit controls the amount of fluid to be used. The executioner sets the number to 120 (I have no idea what unit of measurement that is) and he proceeded to place the thick metal rod at the back of my neck. Apparently there is a device attached to the back of my neck which you can insert the rod in. I ask the executioner if I could request for五月天 to sing 天堂 for me. (天堂 is not even sung by them! Haha…but I got to admit that it was a good crappy choice for a last song) After which, they proceeded to inject the lethal liquid into me (the control unit numbers was running from 0 to 120 at this point in time). And the sensation feels similar to receiving an injection; A slight numbing pain from the pressure of the liquid going in.
The funny thing in this dream was, I never get to hear 五月天 singing 天堂 for me. Hahaha.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
My heart kept silent
*knock knock*
"Auntie, 送饭!" Slowly but steadily, she inched her way to the door where I was waiting to give her this evening dinner packed in a comparmentised plastic box with curry chicken in one corner and vegetables on the other. Rice was served with 2 pieces of golden breaded scallop.
"你今天还好吗？" , i asked.
"aiyah, 还不是一样，活到九十一岁了，不知道为什么还没死，好辛苦。。。"
I didn't know what to reply when she said that. All I did was to give a little pat on her hand and tell her not to feel doleful. I vaguely remembered that I was struggling to contain my emotions. Grown men don't cry, I was told.
Till now, I can not forget what the old granny said. Is it scary to grow old alone? No friends. No family. No one to talk to while you wait for death to take you in your old, damp and dark apartment while feeling useless as your body deteriorates. I wonder if they keep a calendar to cross away the days, one number at a time, to mark the passing of another day of suffering? Can life be reduced to a number cancelling exercise?
How many more of these people are out there, deteriorating under obscurity, forgotten by the mainstreamers? Just how many?
"Auntie, 送饭!" Slowly but steadily, she inched her way to the door where I was waiting to give her this evening dinner packed in a comparmentised plastic box with curry chicken in one corner and vegetables on the other. Rice was served with 2 pieces of golden breaded scallop.
"你今天还好吗？" , i asked.
"aiyah, 还不是一样，活到九十一岁了，不知道为什么还没死，好辛苦。。。"
I didn't know what to reply when she said that. All I did was to give a little pat on her hand and tell her not to feel doleful. I vaguely remembered that I was struggling to contain my emotions. Grown men don't cry, I was told.
Till now, I can not forget what the old granny said. Is it scary to grow old alone? No friends. No family. No one to talk to while you wait for death to take you in your old, damp and dark apartment while feeling useless as your body deteriorates. I wonder if they keep a calendar to cross away the days, one number at a time, to mark the passing of another day of suffering? Can life be reduced to a number cancelling exercise?
How many more of these people are out there, deteriorating under obscurity, forgotten by the mainstreamers? Just how many?
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