Skip to main content
Contacted Chanchal. Wasn't sure of his id. So tried all logical domains. Sure enough, one of them hit the target. Chanchal was one of my close friends in Skytech Solutions. What would I have done without guys like him and Subhasish!

Comments

Sebastian said…
Prevent span visit
http://help.blogger.com/bin/answer.py?answer=1203
Deepanjan said…
Sabu, that was a great help. Thanks!
Anonymous said…
Sittu: Sabu, that was a great help. Thanks!
Deepanjan said…
It's a pity that my innocent annotators are being coerced into extra keystrokes. Spamsters should be hanged by the neck till death.
Sebastian said…
Dips there are no keystrokes involved in spaming. Its just programming brilliance.
Deepanjan said…
I was talking about the keystrokes that genuine annotators are now being forced to type in order to be able to send me their comments.

Popular posts from this blog

This is what Bertrand Russell said about religion...

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. ... A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still