tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22435273624334699232024-02-21T12:08:17.156+05:30Just MeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-59581375669861878652010-06-17T01:08:00.001+05:302010-06-17T01:09:11.209+05:30FACE OF THE WEEK #4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6oRL1rqM52EOAFqpPJleTp-OFHqnrQMxKthP8yQsOIFRXSHI2LML16dfUX38oLaIZDcjgq_L0kl-GeHzjngckh9nLA6z5kvMRYFa2VqKbmZ91hkryPPfzWyke8hdFtP8F-pELxBOy9e84/s1600/P1110012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6oRL1rqM52EOAFqpPJleTp-OFHqnrQMxKthP8yQsOIFRXSHI2LML16dfUX38oLaIZDcjgq_L0kl-GeHzjngckh9nLA6z5kvMRYFa2VqKbmZ91hkryPPfzWyke8hdFtP8F-pELxBOy9e84/s320/P1110012.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<br />
<span style="color: #ffe599;">Terracotta</span> work depicting ‘<strong><em><span style="color: #38761d;">Man, Woman and Child’</span></em></strong>.<br />
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<span style="color: #fff2cc;">The faces are hand-carved, hand-painted and pasted on a backdrop of abstract art on canvas. </span><br />
<span style="color: #fff2cc;">This work was a gift from a friend on my husband’s birthday. I marvel at the artist’s ability to carve the lovely expressions on the three different faces so vividly. </span><br />
<span style="color: #fff2cc;">Could not really settle on which ones to leave out. So I decided on deviating a bit and have made them my ‘</span><span style="color: red;">Faces of the Week’</span><br />
<span style="color: #fff2cc;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: #fff2cc;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I am happy to have come across ’</span><a href="http://spacialpeepol.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">'SPACIAL PEEPOL"</span></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #e69138;">,</span> home to this exciting meme. Please do check it out. There’s a good chance you might like it too.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #fff2cc;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: #fff2cc;">Love,</span><br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/198/D633FBED2799CB51AF84E8C36A659066.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-56353193202135233212010-06-13T19:08:00.007+05:302010-06-14T21:41:02.173+05:30SHADOW SHOT SUNDAY #02<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOmIMgnp79yBPM8ci2yFGTiZU7DvFj9qf3txAW4H-kzoAISsjDE8wojSW9tGbqAT5Q7Z15LxwT2dnbpuWSZzmoHBJK0BzuU_nWUzM1RW2hOZFPrBxUAeO__BcJQffAYm-CERLK0h7wV9t0/s1600/guitar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOmIMgnp79yBPM8ci2yFGTiZU7DvFj9qf3txAW4H-kzoAISsjDE8wojSW9tGbqAT5Q7Z15LxwT2dnbpuWSZzmoHBJK0BzuU_nWUzM1RW2hOZFPrBxUAeO__BcJQffAYm-CERLK0h7wV9t0/s320/guitar.jpg" /></a></div><div style="clear: both; color: #f4cccc; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Every evening, the retiring sunlight casts this shadow of my husband's guitar, resting against a little bookshelf in a corner of our living room. It reminds me of how little time he finds these days to sturm on this instrument he so loves.</span></div><div style="color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">I enjoy this beautiful meme hosted by Tracy at</span> '<a href="http://heyharriet.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size: x-small;">'HEY HARRIET'</span></a>. <span style="font-size: x-small;">Thank you, Tracy</span>.</div><div style="color: #f4cccc;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #f4cccc;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-size: x-small;">Love</span>,<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/198/D633FBED2799CB51AF84E8C36A659066.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a></div><meta content="Word.Document" name="ProgId"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 11" name="Generator"></meta><meta content="Microsoft Word 11" name="Originator"></meta><link href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CPOOHAR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link><style>
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-13680577501981193752010-06-07T22:12:00.004+05:302010-06-14T21:47:26.299+05:30FACE OF THE WEEK #3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3mLMWWAE-xl6KfiZRtC1FINueA9o_eKuKeYYbFMa2VdSViuOjOVvG9hcbqm3dcP1i3TgRCTiEJi5fdf_HhF-VJwDveCzptAPfwN9e0iL9ZQ5WrvaR4Y5YiLIdWsZAiK9LwWsg4yGvnVBG/s1600/agathachristie.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3mLMWWAE-xl6KfiZRtC1FINueA9o_eKuKeYYbFMa2VdSViuOjOVvG9hcbqm3dcP1i3TgRCTiEJi5fdf_HhF-VJwDveCzptAPfwN9e0iL9ZQ5WrvaR4Y5YiLIdWsZAiK9LwWsg4yGvnVBG/s320/agathachristie.gif" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(<span style="color: #38761d;"><strong>Dame Agatha Christie</strong></span>: <span style="color: #a64d79;">Author & Playwright</span>)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigEDK0FULJWmwqhHFxbyoaKeYm9m6IObdaMNCZ_yRJYaGntVRKAXoOR3UQOzCG9mrmUWVpPOaZ3a3OZ48di9Uwa0_t1lly1muzV1J9wlzsHXlX-vc0I5TkBfawqjoijLsCh7Wv4hbneAQR/s1600/youngagatha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigEDK0FULJWmwqhHFxbyoaKeYm9m6IObdaMNCZ_yRJYaGntVRKAXoOR3UQOzCG9mrmUWVpPOaZ3a3OZ48di9Uwa0_t1lly1muzV1J9wlzsHXlX-vc0I5TkBfawqjoijLsCh7Wv4hbneAQR/s320/youngagatha.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIiDzCpPyM-VJQ7v1BYeoGaCThgivXYs28MSOiym_o0_0E9WSkgvAotQSljAoYmnEpevv6gULtRYHztNRtLB36U5BgRgz6bXRXKAzjA8zkd7amVPSE69iqkUuoA-UfAddwCdAgRzW8wfuO/s1600/1120330742_1715697918_bio-top250-agathachristie-mystery11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIiDzCpPyM-VJQ7v1BYeoGaCThgivXYs28MSOiym_o0_0E9WSkgvAotQSljAoYmnEpevv6gULtRYHztNRtLB36U5BgRgz6bXRXKAzjA8zkd7amVPSE69iqkUuoA-UfAddwCdAgRzW8wfuO/s320/1120330742_1715697918_bio-top250-agathachristie-mystery11.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">‘<strong><span style="color: #990000;">Nemesis</span></strong>’ <span style="color: #f4cccc;">was the first ever Christie that I read. I was about 11 years old and I had borrowed it from the school library. Now, each of us was allowed to keep the books for a week and every Tuesday afternoon, during the ‘library period’ we were to hand them over. I remember requesting Sister Rose,our library in-charge (I was in a convent school), to please allow me to keep ‘Nemesis’ for another week as I had not fully understand the book and wanted to re-read it. She let me keep it and thus began my long association with Agatha Christie.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
<span style="color: #f4cccc;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #f4cccc;">As a young girl, I read them mostly for the thrill of the plots and then, as I grew older, I was able to appreciate the intricate infusion of</span> <span style="color: #0b5394;">human psychology</span> <span style="color: #f4cccc;">in all her stories. That, and the very riveting, very elegant style of writing has me enthralled to this day. So much so that even after reading and re-reading all her works, I still cannot resist buying yet another re-printed Christie, in yet another cover!! </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #f4cccc;">(Which is what I did yesterday! I bought</span> ‘<span style="color: magenta;">Appointment with Death’</span> <span style="color: #f4cccc;">in a lovely</span> ‘<span style="color: #f1c232;">tea-stained’</span> <span style="color: #f4cccc;">matt-finish cover.)</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju4OImi2_YHDI3Y59akFBchlQ1X-YOqjbsi_yGevSA7kut9wNC_LpO_omQm1biKWXv3mUoFCf5P1aZowW2umTiSKrIDO9LeuUevntwUfCEM5bOJXMcI5_zmXL2h6UKbMozwENYSPV5KHv0/s1600/323860.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju4OImi2_YHDI3Y59akFBchlQ1X-YOqjbsi_yGevSA7kut9wNC_LpO_omQm1biKWXv3mUoFCf5P1aZowW2umTiSKrIDO9LeuUevntwUfCEM5bOJXMcI5_zmXL2h6UKbMozwENYSPV5KHv0/s320/323860.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #f4cccc;">She died on</span> <span style="color: #6aa84f;">12 Jan 1976</span>, <span style="color: #f4cccc;">just about five weeks before I was born. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f4cccc; font-size: x-small;">But she has been and shall remain, my favourite novelist of all times.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWbWvhdsaDPpglonG7wEO7Ikno9V6ceejNuc9R-sMGMRFKj5GojdQ4PFqtkkpz7eK9yAyFnCvyMk2woiBZcGjf0c56Bu0nXsYhR4MNEpoSQwO8W6UYVBv1DhJ1CJmiDYCDi5wtEzJ2xhm/s1600/476px-Agatha_christie's_grave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWbWvhdsaDPpglonG7wEO7Ikno9V6ceejNuc9R-sMGMRFKj5GojdQ4PFqtkkpz7eK9yAyFnCvyMk2woiBZcGjf0c56Bu0nXsYhR4MNEpoSQwO8W6UYVBv1DhJ1CJmiDYCDi5wtEzJ2xhm/s320/476px-Agatha_christie's_grave.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(<span style="font-size: x-small;">Picture courtesy: </span><a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Agatha_christie's_grave.jpg"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Wikipedia Commons</span></a>)</div><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f4cccc; font-size: x-small;">And that is why, she is today, my</span> <span style="color: red;">'Face of the Week'</span> <br />
<span style="color: #f4cccc;">(<span style="font-size: x-small;">Thank you very much, Sistertex at</span></span> <a href="http://spacialpeepol.blogspot.com/">Spacial Peepol</a> <span style="color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">for hosting this beautiful meme</span>.)</span><br />
<span style="color: #f4cccc;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Love</span>,</span><br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/198/D633FBED2799CB51AF84E8C36A659066.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-6601839645819289822010-05-30T22:26:00.003+05:302010-06-01T01:43:02.821+05:30SHADOW SHOT SUNDAY #01<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqTHjjugpJ7lCuT1M8zo1RJTtvHXinVsrh4w3Mqoa8p4Vf7pInCRU56dERqCQwGrMJ_5Frl0OziMZnBzoNRMnOwCP2JDSksj5KN_yh57DKgv65fQAeUJN_ROSoL_HWf0nbUhyphenhyphentjfBS_Es2/s1600/my+desk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqTHjjugpJ7lCuT1M8zo1RJTtvHXinVsrh4w3Mqoa8p4Vf7pInCRU56dERqCQwGrMJ_5Frl0OziMZnBzoNRMnOwCP2JDSksj5KN_yh57DKgv65fQAeUJN_ROSoL_HWf0nbUhyphenhyphentjfBS_Es2/s320/my+desk.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I stumbled into this lovely meme called <span style="color: red;">SHADOW SHOT SUNDAY</span> hosted by <a href="http://heyharriet.blogspot.com/2008/05/shadow-shot-sunday.html">'Hey Harriet'</a> via another blog I truly love and have been following for sometime now called <a href="http://jabblog-jabblog.blogspot.com/">'Jabblog'</a></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Shadow shots have always fascinated me. The pairing of a shadow with its parent object creates a kind of aura, a sense of mystery that adds to the beauty of the photograph.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">However, I have always felt that shadows are difficult to capture, though they are everywhere for the discerning eye. </span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">This is an attempt on my part to capture one. The composition was spontaneous. It is a shot of my reading table, taken one summer morning and I am submitting it as <span style="color: #38761d;">my first entry</span> into this fabulous SSS meme.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Hope you like it.</span><br />
Love,<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/108/0B0AD2417D67B6E3F6001E14E32DAAB2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-87830895752717373152010-05-26T22:11:00.001+05:302010-05-26T22:13:59.829+05:30FACE OF THE WEEK #2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGEc9ZgfWZGjetYtUoQDNVTMUzulcj4Po-h5V_Wj5LcmayCx0B22Yg8X9CW1YNBnlH3Om0uOFarkP5NSKwe9-9LWHMO5I_k9eZWJzlI0RgUis7OMctxUuYBYzaA_nzsY1-e94PsT1CZWg/s1600/P1100859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEGEc9ZgfWZGjetYtUoQDNVTMUzulcj4Po-h5V_Wj5LcmayCx0B22Yg8X9CW1YNBnlH3Om0uOFarkP5NSKwe9-9LWHMO5I_k9eZWJzlI0RgUis7OMctxUuYBYzaA_nzsY1-e94PsT1CZWg/s320/P1100859.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjssWeMS1cQNsiyusxxAb1Fvkd4yh4Q-NTGYJHgrez3QFblvs4M9INpmLfnGuSNtgZlyUKWtq5E-QCXE4zlTUrNxr_8x99ssCqpuuI7KtzRcuGj-whBRzLmQHeolhBgQxp4pSAMX6aAHr-b/s1600/P1100857.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjssWeMS1cQNsiyusxxAb1Fvkd4yh4Q-NTGYJHgrez3QFblvs4M9INpmLfnGuSNtgZlyUKWtq5E-QCXE4zlTUrNxr_8x99ssCqpuuI7KtzRcuGj-whBRzLmQHeolhBgQxp4pSAMX6aAHr-b/s320/P1100857.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">Brain Coral</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;">(Colpophyllia natans) </div><br />
The series of ridges and valleys common to this type of hard coral which resemble the sulci (grooves) and gyri(ridges) on the <span style="color: #0b5394;">surface of the Animal Brain</span>, gives rise to its name.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: blue;">Fascinating Facts</span></strong>: <br />
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1. <span style="font-size: x-small;">Brain corals are colonial animals and live in a symbiotic relationship with an algae.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">2. Collectively they are known as hermatypic corals (after the Greek god Hermes, speedy messenger). </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">3. They play an important role in reef formation, being the sturdiest of all corals due to their spherical structure.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">4. They can form colonies upto 6 feet in height!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">5. The largest Brain corals in the world today are 200 years old!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">6. They feed at night, mostly on drifiting sea lives, by extending their tentacles which they wrap around themselves during the day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Coral reefs around the world have seen vast destructive changes. Silt from the construction activities on the shoreline has been found to smother and suffocate the tender Coral population. Habitations near the shore mean more sewage, oil and chemicals in the water. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Coral harvesting for commerce has also added to the problem.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(<span style="color: blue;">I must confess here that I bought my Brain coral from a local fisherman on one of the beaches in the Eastern coast of my country. And that too, for a pathetically insignificant amount of money!)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Thankfully, recent studies have found that an unusual form of algae has evolved in the <span style="color: red;">Northern parts of the Indian Ocean</span> which is relatively resistant to the rising temperatures of the ocean.You can read about it</span> <a href="http://www.dnaindia.com/scitech/report_corals-and-algae-in-indian-ocean-may-survive-future-global-warming_1349203">here</a>.<br />
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Maybe nature always finds a way of conserving herself, in spite of Man’s insensitive and destructive activities.<br />
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love,<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/108/0B0AD2417D67B6E3F6001E14E32DAAB2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-59120789155141764402010-05-12T22:29:00.000+05:302010-05-12T22:29:22.712+05:30FACE OF THE WEEK #1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgraezO0mVhyphenhyphen3agqPOhaJLc5IfOZe_Fb7-BcWRMdUVFB9yDBSX6ihCJZSoKYHSOTRWRuiHTpte_r_J8MJSIDhXJg6mxjvjGSv1hB_twNqV7dzSrYTelGAHew-G4XOtLyOdzpRKCLXezKl0y/s1600/face+of+the+week.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgraezO0mVhyphenhyphen3agqPOhaJLc5IfOZe_Fb7-BcWRMdUVFB9yDBSX6ihCJZSoKYHSOTRWRuiHTpte_r_J8MJSIDhXJg6mxjvjGSv1hB_twNqV7dzSrYTelGAHew-G4XOtLyOdzpRKCLXezKl0y/s320/face+of+the+week.JPG" wt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #20124d;">This is the Indian Palm Squirrel (Funambulus palmarum) also known as Three-Striped Palm Squirrel, a species of rodent . </span></div><span style="color: #20124d;"></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">As the name suggests, it is found in India and Sri Lanka. Recently, the Palm Squirrel got accidentally introduced into Western Australia where it is said to have become a minor pest due to the lack of natural predators.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #20124d;">On their greyish-brown back, there are five conspicuous white stripes, three of which run from head to tail. The two outer stripes run from the forelegs to the hind legs. They have a pale white belly and a bushy tail with long black and white fur. </span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">They do not hibernate in the winters. They are often seem scampering around in search of food, mostly nuts and fruits, around afternoon in the bright sunlight.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="color: #20124d;">An interesting Hindu Mythological story is related to this animal. It is believed that this squirrel put in a helping hand when a Hindu Demi-God, Rama was building a bridge across the Ocean to rescue his kidnapped queen. Rama, in appreciation stroked its back and his finger marks remain till today in the form of the stripes on the squirrel’s back!!!</span><br />
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Love,<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/108/0B0AD2417D67B6E3F6001E14E32DAAB2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-24055317092421242302010-05-12T21:10:00.001+05:302010-05-12T21:14:25.267+05:30Reviving 'JUST ME'Hi People, <br />
It has been a while since I paid any attention to ‘Just Me’. When I started with this blog, I was pretty excited, motivated and convinced I’d post if not everyday, at least three times per week. The little workshop in my mind is always so busy conjuring up some story or the other. How hard can it be to put it into words?<br />
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And then I somehow stumbled into <span style="color: #bf9000;">Doggy-blogging</span>. It happened, I think due to my intense inner feeling that I need to write about <span style="color: #6aa84f;">Ginger and Buddy</span>. They are such wonderful souls I feel their lives cannot go un-chronicled. Each day every moment, I feel they have so much to tell the world. <br />
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And hence was born <a href="http://doggywisdom.blogspot.com/">http://doggywisdom.blogspot.com/</a>. <br />
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We started slowly, with tentative pawsteps. And now, we have discovered a whole world of cyber friends so much there in heart and spirit, to encourage you, to love you and to cheer you on.<br />
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‘Just Me’ took a backseat.<br />
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But of late, I have been feeling the need to revive it. A number of beautiful blogs I came across recently has woken up that romantic in me. Some of these blogs are about things really close to my heart, like<span style="color: #e06666;"> photography, paintings, food, hand-made beautiful things. </span><br />
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Some<span style="color: #3d85c6;"> memes</span> I came have across are wonderful, inspiring, refreshing. <br />
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So here I am, back to being me. And as of now, I am planning to post at least thrice a week. Surely Ginger and Buddy would grant me that time off from helping with their blog?<br />
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Love,<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/108/0B0AD2417D67B6E3F6001E14E32DAAB2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-61199167143768692042010-04-07T23:04:00.001+05:302010-04-07T23:06:35.307+05:30What in the name of Dog..err...God is this??A letter to the editor of The Times of India yesterday, caught my eye. <br />
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An unknown miscreant, evidently strewing around poisoned food, has managed to the mass kill dogs in the Osmania University Teacher’s colony, Hyderabad. (U can read about it <a href="http://tinyurl.com/yevyfur">here</a> on page 2)<br />
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The accompanying pictures were graphic and I could hardly believe what I saw.<br />
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I mean, it was like Ginger and Buddy ‘playing dead!’ <br />
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Couldn’t really believe this was for real. To what pathetic depths are people sinking to now? <br />
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Poor souls, survival against nature itself is such a struggle at this time of the year for homeless dogs, what with the mercury touching the roof, not to mention the acute water shortages. I think they can very well do without some fanatic out on this killing spree.<br />
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When you think about it, it’s eerie….<br />
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The man actually went and got the poison, mixed it deliberately with some food and left it on the roadside! That’s intent to kill. He (no gender bias here, just a figure of speech) definitely has a murderer’s psyche. Now, what extent can such a person go to? <br />
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I would like to believe it was the perverse psyche of one man behind this act rather than think it is a planned activity by some self styled Dog eradication group! <br />
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There is a general apathy and antagonism towards dogs, for that matter, for animals in general here in place. Many people would be offended by my words but I am speaking from my own experience in the last 5 years here. Many a times I’ve heard discussions about the need for mass culling of strays by the Government instead of the more humane alternative of mass sterilization. This according to most isn’t feasible and ‘isn’t happening in India’ and ‘only seen in the US’. <br />
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My experience has been different. Our colony in Delhi has a group a strays happily living in harmony. The females have one of their ears clipped. Reason? She had been neutered and vaccinated. And returned to her pack. Not by Govt organisations but on the initiative of the locals. <br />
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All my life, I’ve lived in different parts of Assam and Arunachal Pradesh in India’s north-east. I’ve travelled to almost all corners of our large country. And never until I landed in Hyderabad here 5 years back have I come across the kind of indifference, misconception, antipathy and insalubrious(or any other in/mis/un/anti word you can think of!) attitude towards animals in general. I tried to out-talk many but have now finally given up.<br />
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But today, when I read that letter, the least I felt I could do was write this blog. If only to assuage my feelings of guilt and sadness at what a human being had done.<br />
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I started writing this while still at the hospital. A colleague who happened by asked me what it was. As soon as he heard my very strongly voiced feelings about the incident, he immediately advised me not to write it!! <br />
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The reason he gave was it might create further unrest in the minds of dog lovers like me. It is, he said, unnecessary in these times when the world is already so disturbed. He said it wouldn’t change things if I protest.<br />
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And anyways, there were other people who could carry on such protests and stuff!! <br />
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I was stumped at first. Here was a senior colleague I kind of liked after all. But then, in as subtle terms as possible, I did tell him ‘I’m one of those others’. I’ve always been.<br />
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And, sometimes it does change things, small ways maybe, but it sure does.<br />
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Those who know me well would, I’m sure, concur…<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/108/0B0AD2417D67B6E3F6001E14E32DAAB2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-50254966146288884472010-04-04T00:22:00.000+05:302010-04-04T00:22:41.927+05:30Baarish...Wednesday brought the first real shower of the season here in Hyderabad. <br />
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The sky had been dark and overcast for at least 3 days adding humidity to the soaring temperature. It was just getting to be unbearable. <br />
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Buddy and Ginger would refuse to come out of the air-conditioned room, savour ice-cream and even plain ice-cubes and march straight to the bath-room after their 3-times-a-day walks demanding to be bathed!<br />
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Makes me always think about the hundreds of our Indian Dogs on the street. The usual ‘families’ in our neighbourhood have disappeared! Have they shifted to more conducive locales, with better supply of food and steady source of drinking water? Are they even alive, able to trounce this heat?<br />
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But then, not many of us really care. We chop down magnificent century old trees to make way for concrete habitations as if we humans own this earth, an earth which has no place for any other animal! <br />
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The road leading to the hospital I work in was always a respite from the routine city roads till just a year back. Huge trees lined the road on either sides, pretty flowers bloomed in spring and dogs, humans, cattle and birds alike could be seen under them, taking a breather.<br />
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Of late, the landscape has been reduced to rubbles in the name of road widening. Hasn’t anybody ever heard of relocation of trees? <br />
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Forget re-location, how much does it cost to plant a few saplings as the new roads are being built? Is it necessary to build concrete foot-paths on either side of a highway? Who’s gonna WALK on a highway anyways?<br />
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And as if that is not enough, they have gone and built a concrete footpath in the divider on that 6 lane highway! Can you get any dumber than this? <br />
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Breaks my heart, really. <br />
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No wonder Andhra Pradesh is the one of hottest states contributing to ‘Global Warming’ GENEROUSLY!!! Not to mention the draught and subsequent floods the state endured this year.<br />
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Coming home, this is the state of matters in our hospital. All greenery are rare now. This tiny little tree is struggling to survive till it is engulfed by the encroaching buildings.<br />
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And this poor little city squirrel!! Trying to adjust so hard to city life and food. For how long, I wonder!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZDahYmpovKcPZC80W_dXVoRFNikM6z_yIIfsgm7-kwemukthuzA03vVWnw2cnVYzwGQXGDZn2vak4t-qUkJ_2N0d4TI_Y3F7fDlcpkHG5rxjBdZzjKF1ISmmtdpZLcd8HHJJdHTEdV9Y/s1600/city+squir4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZDahYmpovKcPZC80W_dXVoRFNikM6z_yIIfsgm7-kwemukthuzA03vVWnw2cnVYzwGQXGDZn2vak4t-qUkJ_2N0d4TI_Y3F7fDlcpkHG5rxjBdZzjKF1ISmmtdpZLcd8HHJJdHTEdV9Y/s320/city+squir4.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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Definitely the Wednesday shower was a respite, even if it was for just a quarter of an hour. <br />
<br />
Everyone complained it was short and not heavy enough. Yes, showers came earlier, were frequent and heavier till a year back. And yes, we didn’t need to buy water from the tankers last year because the underground water dried up. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Hey, I thought Al Gore said climate change is subtle and took ages to manifest.<br />
<br />
And here I am talking in terms of a year?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
If this is not scary, what else is?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/108/0B0AD2417D67B6E3F6001E14E32DAAB2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-1044325670375734372010-03-31T01:20:00.003+05:302010-03-31T01:38:11.465+05:30ORANGE TendulkarKuddos 2 Sachin....highest score in IPL 2010! However much you may love the likes of Kallis, Hayden and Gilli, it <strong><span style="font-size: large;">always</span></strong> feels so much better to see an Indian at the top of the list.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGYw4l9moJmpTokVaAxkhkI_pc33pIdqISq_5LakuL0vg2YifwTT85GUO6o7ZEDrg3ZWKNTdaVNWg22dYgSuf2xnHVdQ39uJY_idaib79DMjVXYiCXZwcQXUtwpxuZK1_7ppXvU7CbL1Z/s1600/sachin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGYw4l9moJmpTokVaAxkhkI_pc33pIdqISq_5LakuL0vg2YifwTT85GUO6o7ZEDrg3ZWKNTdaVNWg22dYgSuf2xnHVdQ39uJY_idaib79DMjVXYiCXZwcQXUtwpxuZK1_7ppXvU7CbL1Z/s320/sachin.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Oh!heck...IPL is all about international solidarity etc etc. But <span style="font-size: large;">'phir bhi yeh dil hain Hindustani' .<span style="font-size: small;">Who cares? All is fair in</span> love <span style="font-size: small;">and</span> criket in India!!</span><br />
<br />
And by the way, Sehwag is no longer playing for my IPL 11. He is being replaced by dear old Bhajji!! Dilshan and Mascarenhas are out too. Kallis and Warner are in.<br />
<br />
Warney playing tomorow. PRAY PRAY PRAY<br />
<br />
(Refer: <a href="http://aksharaa-justme.blogspot.com/2010/03/of-sundaysipl-and-why-you-sleep.html#links">http://aksharaa-justme.blogspot.com/2010/03/of-sundaysipl-and-why-you-sleep.html#links</a>)<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/108/0B0AD2417D67B6E3F6001E14E32DAAB2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a><br />
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(Photo credit: Google search)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-61904948869798110572010-03-28T02:29:00.001+05:302010-03-28T02:37:20.779+05:30MANGOLICIOUS...!!!It's just March and 41 degrees already!!<br />
<br />
What better way to cool off than some chilled KOOL food?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Try this....I call it 'MANGO MOODS'<br />
<br />
<strong>Chilled Tangy Mangoes</strong> with a dash of salt, topped with ice-cream (I've used Litchi, but Vanilla works as well)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii53lt0KlzjVB6kZrY8DtmKdj6wzvrjk7dfvAZ4S8J7fGKRQezNdZgbL_ipDN5rosya798YaG_ETsRTytGjOr1gJC45W9eLZ2PFEfj4X8Y93DdW5cQ9sdLQTGshT4ooUtk_g3ggG_X1r_N/s1600/P1090854.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii53lt0KlzjVB6kZrY8DtmKdj6wzvrjk7dfvAZ4S8J7fGKRQezNdZgbL_ipDN5rosya798YaG_ETsRTytGjOr1gJC45W9eLZ2PFEfj4X8Y93DdW5cQ9sdLQTGshT4ooUtk_g3ggG_X1r_N/s320/P1090854.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<br />
Suggested Accompaniment: <span style="font-size: large;">Choco Cafe Latte with Cream</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3yDO4uJuBUTeNQvlodS-sCLi_nHe6W3LL7Xf8NEp4zJzK_f-7sw3KnNUeesJ4HoZwC4XN0VPkFhmraQ0BqhcchjvXP6rgyOr7j8O6i3X3xa_-qjc-EguQsakjZ3X0cpow8V2WF6RP_huN/s1600/chilled+cafe+cream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3yDO4uJuBUTeNQvlodS-sCLi_nHe6W3LL7Xf8NEp4zJzK_f-7sw3KnNUeesJ4HoZwC4XN0VPkFhmraQ0BqhcchjvXP6rgyOr7j8O6i3X3xa_-qjc-EguQsakjZ3X0cpow8V2WF6RP_huN/s320/chilled+cafe+cream.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
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<br />
<br />
Now, DON"T u miss the 'Coffee Art'!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXA74c1jmW1hm3Pf-F4YB8tieE_AsbtRjdjnlIc0XavKYTp9Db7YKG7B4GuDCFtYrZKTKsGAjQniYzBoXxL2BhMn3-ETxBCrfyGUmb0lpHzUkVTR9ZP3QZwyu6vTgh2EIKRgwY_zhh7vlk/s1600/coffee+art.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXA74c1jmW1hm3Pf-F4YB8tieE_AsbtRjdjnlIc0XavKYTp9Db7YKG7B4GuDCFtYrZKTKsGAjQniYzBoXxL2BhMn3-ETxBCrfyGUmb0lpHzUkVTR9ZP3QZwyu6vTgh2EIKRgwY_zhh7vlk/s320/coffee+art.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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CHILL FOLKS.....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/108/0B0AD2417D67B6E3F6001E14E32DAAB2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-72182560942137524132010-03-27T01:28:00.000+05:302010-03-27T01:28:16.716+05:30And We Eat!The Day wasn’t fruitful. Hot, Dry, Boring. Another one of those un-creative, monotonous, routine, busy days. <br />
<br />
And as usual, thought of GOOd FooD was the uppermost!!<br />
<br />
I came up with this to finish off dinner.<br />
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0LL6nCmgnHvRaTSJbc147CJ38kHVZCtds69VSUgLSz70qFshT8-6ijsx9nsfZ6W7LOFU0xVwPV_EiownxlKx77T_T0xmauSWz0HqOX67lzuTNamUHNZWPIT_DPHlWjltCAdAtoJLwgFr/s1600/P1090808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0LL6nCmgnHvRaTSJbc147CJ38kHVZCtds69VSUgLSz70qFshT8-6ijsx9nsfZ6W7LOFU0xVwPV_EiownxlKx77T_T0xmauSWz0HqOX67lzuTNamUHNZWPIT_DPHlWjltCAdAtoJLwgFr/s320/P1090808.JPG" /></a></div><br />
It’s called ‘APPLE DELIGHT’<br />
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<br />
<br />
Those of you out there who relish a crunchy, juicy, chewy pie will just savour this<br />
<br />
delicacy.<br />
<br />
The Cinnamon enhances the taste of the apple with butter here. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Serving suggestions:<br />
<br />
1. Vanilla ice-cream<br />
<br />
2. Bitter-Chocolate Sauce <br />
<br />
3. Just have it warm, STRAIGHT from the oven!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcepCTA4XdxFn4zVASwzy-S3cPyAqZIYrdc-d3Q9Z-wHsNJ0e0xZQdBMSBKiSg-E15r7TM244npxCgqwSrQoiOgLb9nE9SeUY9TzHq86uXcg_adGPd_iu6hOqHZrnujldg5q45NgqxAqQc/s1600/P1090810.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcepCTA4XdxFn4zVASwzy-S3cPyAqZIYrdc-d3Q9Z-wHsNJ0e0xZQdBMSBKiSg-E15r7TM244npxCgqwSrQoiOgLb9nE9SeUY9TzHq86uXcg_adGPd_iu6hOqHZrnujldg5q45NgqxAqQc/s320/P1090810.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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YUMMZZZ!!..MMM..<br />
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Oh!yes..I almost forgot. I finally had a wonderful day yesterday!!!<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/108/0B0AD2417D67B6E3F6001E14E32DAAB2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a><br />
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P.S.: Want d recipe? Watch out for my new ‘Kooking Blog’. Coming soon…Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-85935834693241723012010-03-24T00:24:00.000+05:302010-03-24T00:24:55.890+05:30Why I buy, store,sleep,breath and swear by books!!Of late, I have been resisting (rather, trying to resist) my insatiable urge to buy that ‘just one more’ book. Both <a href="http://www.landmarkonthenet.com/">Landmark</a> and <a href="http://www.crosswordbookstores.com/">Crossword bookstore</a>’ were offering discounts recently and inspite of two enticing visits, I came back with just a single book- ‘Where Eagles Dare by Alistair Maclean’. <br />
<br />
Now, that’s a HUGEly successful bout of Self-control, I tell you!!!<br />
And all this is because of the predicament I am in when it comes to storing my books. All cupboards are filled already and the house is filled with full cupboards! The alternative storage areas for these afore mentioned books, the cartons, are gathering undisturbed dust. And P keeps reminding me of the E-Books I am yet to start perusing!<br />
<br />
But then the other day, caught in another of those interminable traffic snarls mid afternoon, this little place by the roadside with just enough space to squeeze in the car, was altogether too enticing to pass by. <br />
Well, the place wasn’t as little as I had expected it to be, considering the shabby, dingy stairway that lead up from the nondescript sign-board. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMLenPIN-PdBm6hahIp1qnEMhcBwHMTqqrwfKJlBCaq9iMejy_2pEVjbf3wr-FV0-3kArrUld_sZwSe1HF-Vi7MFvynY-ss-9MEqm2fGtCRJ2Tn1H5C9G9Orcw0Fqfqenv8PqX0mTJ5jPt/s1600-h/BK+SHOP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMLenPIN-PdBm6hahIp1qnEMhcBwHMTqqrwfKJlBCaq9iMejy_2pEVjbf3wr-FV0-3kArrUld_sZwSe1HF-Vi7MFvynY-ss-9MEqm2fGtCRJ2Tn1H5C9G9Orcw0Fqfqenv8PqX0mTJ5jPt/s320/BK+SHOP.jpg" vt="true" /></a></div><br />
And I decidedly realised one thing that day, that I am a Bigger bibliomaniac than an Acrophobic!! <br />
<br />
It had a first-floor section that stored (ALAS!) the fictions. I had to go check, just Had To!! And there I climbed up the narrowest, steepest and the most dizzying staircase I have ever climbed. <br />
<br />
Now, climbing up is not the problem, you have to get down. And this stairway was just plain iron bars, uncovered and making you realise the depth you would fall to if u happened to slip!!<br />
<br />
But all for the love of books!!!<br />
<br />
<br />
I hypnotised myself to avoid feeling that sinking, bleary feeling i happen to feel each time I look down from even a first-floor terrace.And I also told myself to forget worrying about the risk of damage to my Most Beloved Pencil Shoes. (No, I somehow didn't concurrently think about damaging my legs or any other bone!! Though, I still cannot imagine the co-incidence. why on earth did I happen to wear those heels on that very day?) <br />
<br />
But i survived!! And here I am, back home with these!!!!!!!!!!!!! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIneNQSv8l2DTYJ6u0zO8v6WKs25Y63oXzjmLtpQyBPPZulm_7kgEHRh0TiMhHkSNItenG9mcb8blctyoXrAGlwRYdhvlsnntM08tkVs4dbGm3SaTKAFLI_daLF1ypCan_-jAJruwbMSb3/s1600-h/old+books2b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIneNQSv8l2DTYJ6u0zO8v6WKs25Y63oXzjmLtpQyBPPZulm_7kgEHRh0TiMhHkSNItenG9mcb8blctyoXrAGlwRYdhvlsnntM08tkVs4dbGm3SaTKAFLI_daLF1ypCan_-jAJruwbMSb3/s320/old+books2b.jpg" vt="true" /></a></div>And thankfully with an intact pair of precious heels!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEycGpe5OMnvTDvKwH_iPGmeLw_eg8PzJijte18Ve2XVeYCR7Opt6CV4mdMJ82PxUIqrniN09SUhgstrQEz8AJrkL5VYhg07EICJUgdKvV9x7-sWiKa4jZXBmygfzCy3pM_WwikqJZ5LNw/s1600-h/my+heels+b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEycGpe5OMnvTDvKwH_iPGmeLw_eg8PzJijte18Ve2XVeYCR7Opt6CV4mdMJ82PxUIqrniN09SUhgstrQEz8AJrkL5VYhg07EICJUgdKvV9x7-sWiKa4jZXBmygfzCy3pM_WwikqJZ5LNw/s320/my+heels+b.jpg" vt="true" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Now, doesn’t it make me eligible for a splurge at a proper place (Read book store with escalators)….?? <br />
<br />
Hmmmm…<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/108/0B0AD2417D67B6E3F6001E14E32DAAB2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-59825079114955839852010-03-21T00:11:00.003+05:302010-03-21T00:23:54.649+05:30When My Garden beckons….<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To walk barefoot on the grass, feeling the early morning dew…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To feel the soft, wet mud on your hands…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To smell the rain…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All very well, but I am, for all intents and purposes, a Pot-Gardener. And I truly do justice to my potted-plants. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is P who tends to the little patch we call ‘Our Garden’. And inspite of the dry, arid weather the plants have been forced to resist of late, they are in full bloom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A day in my Garden (both Potted and Otherwise), through my lenses….</span><br />
<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Hope the pictures bring you some Joy like they do me......</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/108/0B0AD2417D67B6E3F6001E14E32DAAB2.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-76915563743354373592010-03-16T22:32:00.003+05:302010-03-16T23:30:03.586+05:30Of Sundays,IPL and why you sleep...!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyJqnfkKZrraw1KXVMB_dDmcUAyPTSjavDA-D6QT1B93gc8GYJsoRwpZ1kUpOnzhZO6lb3zN-09O0YkfCBJTfKN6Xx9NVH-7QSYziBNmALz-kb0vj0GJYQ0YLT61wowkxgb7iiOPttm621/s1600-h/IPL_2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyJqnfkKZrraw1KXVMB_dDmcUAyPTSjavDA-D6QT1B93gc8GYJsoRwpZ1kUpOnzhZO6lb3zN-09O0YkfCBJTfKN6Xx9NVH-7QSYziBNmALz-kb0vj0GJYQ0YLT61wowkxgb7iiOPttm621/s200/IPL_2010.jpg" vt="true" width="130" /></a></div>The last three weeks disappeared into the past without even a breathing break. At last, a real Sunday in a very long time. In fact, a real break-from-everything, in a very long time. <br />
<br />
<br />
Meant to start writing yesterday. But it felt good to just while away the time, sleep, eat and catch some cricket. <br />
<br />
Talking of cricket, what is it with the IPL? This time I had meant not to get stuck to the TV. A lot of things take a back seat. Things that, anyway, have to be done and then I lose my sleep over them. But here I am getting caught into the hysteria again. <br />
<br />
There is something about these matches that you can’t simply ignore. <br />
<br />
This time however, I am not staunch in supporting just one team. Maybe it will help me cut down on the addiction. And I will carry on with a normal life!!<br />
<br />
So, I am supporting Shane Warne(FOREVER!), AB de Villiers, Mathew Hayden, Sachin, Gambhir, Dilshan, Gilchrist, Shaun Tait (WOW! what a fast bowler!!) Mascarenhas, Shehwag, Symonds.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEW7zqdtC6KpkafKE3F5NqVTvzxCPi02FnQVB-uxwtmGEOh6DPAANt9GXdyuYELefZuAEy3AYuG2BzaejPqbDkln_fZvorSZhxwWpRky3PVTXDxoORlk1NUp6wbwwpyi_BmjG03KU8dBi/s1600-h/M_Id_102608_Shane_Warne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEW7zqdtC6KpkafKE3F5NqVTvzxCPi02FnQVB-uxwtmGEOh6DPAANt9GXdyuYELefZuAEy3AYuG2BzaejPqbDkln_fZvorSZhxwWpRky3PVTXDxoORlk1NUp6wbwwpyi_BmjG03KU8dBi/s200/M_Id_102608_Shane_Warne.jpg" vt="true" width="200" /></a></div><br />
There…My IPL 11. Let’s see what they come up with this time…<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54488/108/0B0AD2417D67B6E3F6001E14E32DAAB2.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-79587560885411455252010-02-24T01:48:00.002+05:302010-02-24T01:57:21.576+05:30Tribute to 'Daddy' Today mummy told me about a human named Caesar Milan and his four leged furry friend named Daddy.<br />
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<br />
Daddy was a pit-bull. He died last week. <br />
Daddy’s daddy Caesar was a dog whisperer. <br />
<br />
Dog Whisperer’s are humans who can speak ‘wooflish’ which is the language we canines talk in. Of course there are different dialects. Like Ginger can speak Woof-Hindi, Woof-Assamese and Woof-English. I am learning these dialects from her. <br />
<br />
Because Dog whisperers can understand and talk in wooflish, we canines can easily tell them our problems.<br />
<br />
Caesar helps many dawgs who do not have a mom and dad or anyone to love them. He also helps those who are scared, angry and irritable. Daddy always helped him in his work.<br />
<br />
Caesar was from Mexico. Later on he settled in LA,USA and worked for us canines as a part of the National Geographic Channel. <a href="http://channel.nationalgeographic.com/series/dog-whisperer">The Dog Whisperer</a><br />
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Daddy was his beloved friend and son whom he had adopted from rapper Redman.<br />
<br />
Mummy tells me he was a very good dog. He was always gentle with other dogs smaller than him and was not at all dangerous or ferocious like the humans think pit-bulls usually are. <br />
He was very famous and widely loved.<br />
<br />
Caesar must be very sad that Daddy is dead. He was with him for a very long time…16 years. You can read about him <a href="http://www.peoplepets.com/news/dogs/cesar-millan-s-beloved-pit-bull-daddy-dies-at-16/1">here</a> .<br />
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Mummy was sad too when she read this news. But I told her not to be sad because daddy is now in Doggy heaven where there are lots of big bones to chew, cats to chase and plenty of mud to roll in. He will be happy there. <br />
<br />
From Buddy and Ginger here….MAY YOU ROLL IN PEACE.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMKjCQi5uf898t6IikQ334HdNNJ7YHtrAH8NbnEuTRhXZ_EJDB4Z6dhwOnKVM71oe9IKBnoXrN2Fk_iVLjxkQneK0wtKGsBfTbDK2S88JPLVZdQ2rQRgmRI5j-dLSvgCvTqkKEd4boFn_/s1600-h/daddy03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMKjCQi5uf898t6IikQ334HdNNJ7YHtrAH8NbnEuTRhXZ_EJDB4Z6dhwOnKVM71oe9IKBnoXrN2Fk_iVLjxkQneK0wtKGsBfTbDK2S88JPLVZdQ2rQRgmRI5j-dLSvgCvTqkKEd4boFn_/s320/daddy03.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Pic courtesy: <a href="http://www.cesarsway.com/">http://www.cesarsway.com/</a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-50506124085144592182010-02-24T00:56:00.001+05:302010-02-24T01:02:16.121+05:30Cakes,Chocolate and a Slice of Life....!!<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There is not a single sachet of liquid hand-wash anywhere in the 3 baskets in our store-room and Soap cakes are just so untidy!</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Not my fault. I usually buy 7 of them at a go. Buy 3 get 3 free. And 1 new brand that has just been launched.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This time they just had this buy 1 get 1 free scheme on! And there were no new brands.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Why is it that a few eggs, flour, oil and sugar baked together is just so much more tempting than an omelet and roti? The key word here is ‘baked’ I guess!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYfqZecpHjpX1ZBioejas1C94J-a2Sd-ukka00qNlHCfwGsJA6Za7uGHMZYFyXAgeSEQj15UkxEtcLyNmEZhhyphenhyphenH7yq1JwzS2V6TjxGq1k5MprrzFQNrx3S3Arh_8bz-OaVPDoi35zrSs4E/s1600-h/P1070951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYfqZecpHjpX1ZBioejas1C94J-a2Sd-ukka00qNlHCfwGsJA6Za7uGHMZYFyXAgeSEQj15UkxEtcLyNmEZhhyphenhyphenH7yq1JwzS2V6TjxGq1k5MprrzFQNrx3S3Arh_8bz-OaVPDoi35zrSs4E/s320/P1070951.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgRU83QhYUaMVzXMffpqohHSVAL04Xm_CkRWdP2GJMdeDwfmco5YFxVZvamUKxM8T2VaFZCwBoi24ePJ_3rPzHmU71IaXzSJAG1cBskKI_7hlj9CwfZkKouxYIG7BixM0w9mRx79LgDN0F/s1600-h/chocolate-cake1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgRU83QhYUaMVzXMffpqohHSVAL04Xm_CkRWdP2GJMdeDwfmco5YFxVZvamUKxM8T2VaFZCwBoi24ePJ_3rPzHmU71IaXzSJAG1cBskKI_7hlj9CwfZkKouxYIG7BixM0w9mRx79LgDN0F/s320/chocolate-cake1.jpg" width="249" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Now, there is this bakery with a HUGE advertisement hoarding your taste-buds just cannot miss. Their juice centre boasts of No-Sugar, purely natural fruit juices. The seats face the glass cupboard whish stores the choicest of pastries.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Well, the owner also owns the gym I go to, just above this bakery!! He lectures about the advantages of fresh fruit juices after a hard work-out!! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Ginger and Buddy have tails going thump-thump-thump, there eyes mirroring blissful joy! They are busy tearing down empty toothpaste cartons, fetching empty water bottles and chasing fire-flies in the garden. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Empty..? They redefine contentment, love and everyday happiness the way we humans never can hope to.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There is this Kashmiri patient of P’s who presented him a large basket full of Kashmiri apples that looks and tastes exactly like those that are abundantly sold all over Hyderabad, especially just outside P’s clinic!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Now, do you thank him for the Hyderabadi apples? Or reproach him for lying about the non-Kashmiri ones? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Come to think of it, Hyderabad doesn’t grow any apples!! For that matter, Andhra Pradesh doesn’t grow any apples at all!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8jUhhO_HllbVptszROPijxBZCza8DW1UT2QwuExfsLIWZk-Z7YdVey3GaWpbDwzbMowHrIPiO5OemNI_fnLPEtuALCDmuZkrfa_6kwhiCFKbUQ3agKw8lWwcMkZXFVPhy4j988q-Bp3b_/s1600-h/apples+edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8jUhhO_HllbVptszROPijxBZCza8DW1UT2QwuExfsLIWZk-Z7YdVey3GaWpbDwzbMowHrIPiO5OemNI_fnLPEtuALCDmuZkrfa_6kwhiCFKbUQ3agKw8lWwcMkZXFVPhy4j988q-Bp3b_/s320/apples+edited.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-67701794755491573512010-02-23T00:15:00.001+05:302010-02-23T00:22:20.805+05:30Daddy's Jeans Mummy has been asking me to write my story ever since she read Bo-Obama’s blog. She says I and Ginger are very special and we can tell beautiful stories too. So what if he is the first dog of the US of America and has a fleet of people to help him. Mummy will help us. <br />
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<br />
For the last two days I have been asking her to type this story for me. But she has hardly been talking. Now mummy not talking, that is SERIOUS! <br />
<br />
She has her nose buried in this book. Last night she was still reading after all the crickets, owls and bats had gone to sleep. <br />
I licked her twice, reminding her of the lateness of the hour. She just hugged me (arggh..as usual,she just hugs all the time) and told me to go to sleep. <br />
<br />
How can I sleep with that light shining and she crying into her book time and again? Finally, she slept. But it was already time for those noisy birds living in the right hand corner of our garden to be up. Somehow I tried to sleep, tucking my nose and ears deep under daddy’s feet.<br />
<br />
I think mummy is done with her book today because she has been following daddy all over the house talking as fast as I wag my tail. I also heard her saying she is going to help me and Ginger with our stories.<br />
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Now, promise me you won’t be angry with me. I chewed daddy’s jeans the other day.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhctthyOPyz68S29-e5k8ZIIlMh19MRhuWbxK35Ps92w4jAW6-HnMN1W84vLLrB4I64BWfpZDsCTxz8cD9QHA6dEqSghxM_-XKGKx8cXXGBz5gKqS5_L797oUfwyzj-LCmo2ZMwhBmJcqPT/s1600-h/jeans.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhctthyOPyz68S29-e5k8ZIIlMh19MRhuWbxK35Ps92w4jAW6-HnMN1W84vLLrB4I64BWfpZDsCTxz8cD9QHA6dEqSghxM_-XKGKx8cXXGBz5gKqS5_L797oUfwyzj-LCmo2ZMwhBmJcqPT/s200/jeans.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />
I know, I know. But I can explain..Plzzz?<br />
<br />
I was so bored. Daddy and Mummy had gone off hunting, though I cannot understand why they should go everyday. That big, cold box is full of so many goodies already.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I asked Ginger but she wouldn’t play. Said she has to catch up on her beauty sleep. Huh..GIRLS!!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcN1k7RK2bH3tzss5q9VD85ROGqyvxtYlWuMOFlbdewED8JEalJzO9SqZknHsOMM9O1oyDkJT3o-tw6OedtMwtLLRs7gv0PjBQPFnpMtAoDgyuYlNxYKrhRXHQwlc6tz-Mm68SjxR4RrP/s1600-h/P1080115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYcN1k7RK2bH3tzss5q9VD85ROGqyvxtYlWuMOFlbdewED8JEalJzO9SqZknHsOMM9O1oyDkJT3o-tw6OedtMwtLLRs7gv0PjBQPFnpMtAoDgyuYlNxYKrhRXHQwlc6tz-Mm68SjxR4RrP/s200/P1080115.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
I chewed on my toys for a while.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglyjwwZCHiY3O7R5SPZ_k5EOglkWaNNCGFyf5RIuevTOtFEM76Lkg5LxJaMQuJTDJglzfBcQ0CjHYtZGrMMOIyzQn7EGG1MJpnU_wC8t62UxcyOrqfjvE_2OvubPBJQOtTS8Q9C1afB_I0/s1600-h/bored+buddy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglyjwwZCHiY3O7R5SPZ_k5EOglkWaNNCGFyf5RIuevTOtFEM76Lkg5LxJaMQuJTDJglzfBcQ0CjHYtZGrMMOIyzQn7EGG1MJpnU_wC8t62UxcyOrqfjvE_2OvubPBJQOtTS8Q9C1afB_I0/s200/bored+buddy.JPG" width="200" /></a>But then there was that jeans on the bed. It smelled just so nice…reminded me of the thick bushes in the field that daddy takes us to for our morning play. It even had a little bit of the mud that I had splashed in that morning. <br />
<br />
Just how much can a Dawg resist? <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It was mummy who found the jeans. She shrieked, ‘look what Buddy has done!’ And then she started laughing. But daddy had the most severe look I had ever seen. He stared at me sternly and said I was a bad boy. So I didn’t jump up to lick his nose like I always do. And he wouldn’t hug me like he always does when he comes back from his hunting trips. I was really sad. I sat down and wanted to cry. But mummy came and hugged me tight and said it was alright. Then daddy started laughing too and said I looked real cute. CUTE! Calling a boy Cute? Oh ok, if it means I am forgiven, its ok I guess. <br />
<br />
Mummy said it was daddy’s fault, not mine. He shouldn’t have left the muddy jeans lying on the bed. How can a Dawg resist? Besides, that pair was getting old and should have been abandoned long back. <br />
<br />
Dog bless her! <br />
<br />
She said she will stitch a pair of patch-work shorts out of those jeans so daddy won’t be sad. And she cut out some parts and gave them to me. So I won’t chew any more whole clothes.<br />
<br />
But they no longer smell nice. They smell of that white powder mummy uses to dip all her clothes in from time to time. Yuckss!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-70535019004985006592010-02-15T03:09:00.002+05:302010-02-16T00:09:13.456+05:30Ramblings of a Nostalgic Mind‘I shall be back within minutes,’ said P for the umpteenth time. ‘Shall you both wait here?’<br />
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‘Minutes? We don’t think so, do we Ginger?’ And as P disappeared once more into the gadget maze of Nehru Place, I called after him,’Call us when u are done. We’ll be around’.<br />
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Ginger, of course, was ecstatic and immediately set off. <br />
<br />
It was a routine Delhi winter day and it certainly wasn’t hot. But Ginger had refused to stay in the car.<br />
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6Prgu_PcIcSD1kM2KZ86h-S_TyIlSDcL-oiWZt4LcIHetV0QaGWH9h6MhM-3PnWOSrSPpagc_NL5l3Vb2nM0ZLVFQKzjZk76Ta2u1iliJNd-luApwyxIDuGKwbvywQBnPumzh6JVyikJ/s1600-h/P1080192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6Prgu_PcIcSD1kM2KZ86h-S_TyIlSDcL-oiWZt4LcIHetV0QaGWH9h6MhM-3PnWOSrSPpagc_NL5l3Vb2nM0ZLVFQKzjZk76Ta2u1iliJNd-luApwyxIDuGKwbvywQBnPumzh6JVyikJ/s200/P1080192.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>The reader, by now, must be pretty intrigued and want to know who Ginger is. Well, she is my darling girl, the Most Adorable Labrador you have ever known, and I assure you, you’d fall in love with her within 30 seconds of meeting her! <br />
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<br />
Proud momma that I am, I like to believe that she is too pretty to pass by in an unlocked car in the jam-packed parking lot in the Canine-Lover’s Capital in the country. The valet (if you can call one that in Nehru Place) had assured me that she will be well taken care of. He is a huge dog lover,he said, and is used to taking care of all sizes and shapes of canines and felines who are tricked into believing they were to guard their cars as their owners (read parents) went gadget hunting.<br />
<br />
He came and hugged her as if to prove his point and Ginger licked the dust off his face.<br />
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Endearing, but no, thanks! I’d rather take her along.<br />
<br />
Now, there is this bookstall, an untidy road-side affair that I had discovered during my many visits to NP with P earlier when he invariably disappeared for hours looking for another God-forsaken gadget.<br />
<br />
How Ginger could have known this, I truly haven’t any inkling; but she bee-lined for it now as I struggled to keep pace with her.<br />
<br />
There are numerous such stalls all over CP, Palika and any other street you can think of in Delhi. Why then does this little place hold my fancy ?<strike>,and is the subject of my ramblings.</strike><br />
<br />
Many of us must have seen it. Just around the corner beyond the ICICI Bank, an old, bespectacled man with long silver hair ( and an equally long silvery beard, reminding you of M.F.Hussain!) sat with sacks full of books and hundred other strewn on the ground all around him.<br />
<br />
There were, of course, a number of pirated prints but most of them were battered old copies for re-sale. It had taken me just two visits to realise that he was no ordinary street-side businessman. The man spoke impeccable English, looked like an eccentric painter (due respects to MFH!) and definitely sounded like a crazy writer.<br />
<br />
Often, as I rummaged through his collection and picked up a book, he would offer an instant synopsis and dish out a generous literary analysis! Many books were rudely written off while other, very non-descript ones were highly recommended.<br />
<br />
One such book was ‘My Family and Other Animals’ by Gerald Durrell. I had suspiciously bought it (very battered old copy, rejected by the previous reader) at his persistence and promptly stacked it away at the forgotten depths of my bookshelf.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnjgPRQsKL8pq7nrult1n-sfA5HbNzQg9o7uMmwVoa4XT6LiQ5Vv8ZQsivuFxbmEhBNg1Vlz2xzXeVOVfH4qSCshpKU5sRH9CZkMZFZub1XifjJZ-ursEAMxkv7jp6i5gVjWv3mR1XmxK/s1600-h/P1080411.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnjgPRQsKL8pq7nrult1n-sfA5HbNzQg9o7uMmwVoa4XT6LiQ5Vv8ZQsivuFxbmEhBNg1Vlz2xzXeVOVfH4qSCshpKU5sRH9CZkMZFZub1XifjJZ-ursEAMxkv7jp6i5gVjWv3mR1XmxK/s320/P1080411.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>After about 4 months (a long time by the standards of someone who averages 3 books at any given time) I tentatively started reading it and instantly fell in love with it!<br />
<br />
Though I would love to go on about the book, I don’t think it is prudent to do it right now and bore the reader. Someone had once told me, ‘write shorter posts’. <br />
<br />
Anyway, I am still not done with the book after having read it for as many times as P has watched ‘Batman Returns’!<br />
<br />
And now, I invariably look out for other works by Gerald Durrell and proceed to label a store incomplete if it isn’t selling his works!Like Odyssey Leisure Store in Prasads Imax in Hyderabad!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmaORhaB8wPtt7TkTrS3E7WrjIU0PyZTFp8IKOsWCyl1tih7Ss1Sg_7MVv25L6GagJDaj9hnAiCLXZFnN0ECo9QeYylMLekr1TldbBzPyBdjDAkGhYAxIA4JqqfkRc2FhPvbF5VheoxTG/s1600-h/P1080412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmaORhaB8wPtt7TkTrS3E7WrjIU0PyZTFp8IKOsWCyl1tih7Ss1Sg_7MVv25L6GagJDaj9hnAiCLXZFnN0ECo9QeYylMLekr1TldbBzPyBdjDAkGhYAxIA4JqqfkRc2FhPvbF5VheoxTG/s200/P1080412.JPG" width="185" /></a></div><br />
By now, I had begun regarding my eccentric writer’s recommendations very seriously and added a number of hitherto unknown (to me) books to my collection.<br />
<br />
One such other book is ‘The Joy Luck Club’ by Amy Tan. The book beautifully takes you on a journey of exploring mother-daughter relationships and definitely leaves a mark on you.<br />
<br />
Then again, it is not always about the books themselves with this little book store. <br />
<br />
This place had old books that had once touched someone else’s lives. You can get a glimpse of another who had shared your joy or sorrow and had left a part of themselves in the books.<br />
<br />
This old man, somehow, knew and respected the individuality of these books. He had read each book that he put up for sale and yet had left the little bits of ‘life’ in them undisturbed. <br />
<br />
<br />
To me it is always intriguing! <br />
<br />
A little things-to-buy list, a prescription, dried leaves, a little butterfly wing and the last book I bought had these inside it pages.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDagneFTQ2nPWy-HSHHvtzHz_qbja7-8VacPxcau9h6dLij6vp5KOc6Ebvv1UmtalaSGmehDC5pD-UBHaYfAqzXad3ti5qJBMrwmriuRLYPW34ExKfRZIoUUDFuA45ACLqOcWGtjVxNCjg/s1600-h/P1080405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDagneFTQ2nPWy-HSHHvtzHz_qbja7-8VacPxcau9h6dLij6vp5KOc6Ebvv1UmtalaSGmehDC5pD-UBHaYfAqzXad3ti5qJBMrwmriuRLYPW34ExKfRZIoUUDFuA45ACLqOcWGtjVxNCjg/s200/P1080405.JPG" width="186" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Then one day, I found my MFH look-alike busy sketching on the dust covers of his books, quite oblivious to the crowd that had gathered around him.</div><br />
It was a girl, always the same girl everywhere. <br />
<br />
‘She’s lovely’, I gushed, ‘Aap artist ho?’ <br />
<br />
‘No’, he said<br />
<br />
'Toh aap kya writer ho?’, I persisted.<br />
<br />
His ‘no’ sounded much more cryptic this time. Always so ready to talk, he suddenly had withdrawn into his shell and refused to look up.<br />
<br />
‘I do some sketching too’, undeterred, I pushed through the crowd and sat down on the pavement beside him. <br />
Without a word he took out two pieces of black charcoal and handed them to me,<br />
<br />
’These are for you’, he said.<br />
<br />
I was touched. I sat there for sometime watching him sketch and by the time I left, the romantic in me had concluded, ‘He really was an artist with some melancholy past’.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiil1hMhdU8DTkUgihvagNX3hogDK-DB9mY-l2n5QOzjkRrO7Ti4fc8ikfQ8Pygj34Kndbo8TdS335_WsKwNn7_uzdogbbKFDmW4lO9YRkJHFp4DYBQVc_7JjAtmnK8eVspz1cuHKuchGSr/s1600-h/P1080404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; height: 200px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 152px;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiil1hMhdU8DTkUgihvagNX3hogDK-DB9mY-l2n5QOzjkRrO7Ti4fc8ikfQ8Pygj34Kndbo8TdS335_WsKwNn7_uzdogbbKFDmW4lO9YRkJHFp4DYBQVc_7JjAtmnK8eVspz1cuHKuchGSr/s200/P1080404.JPG" width="133" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgug0Rmd4-I1QL3o1c_1hGoi7LIKIUBzdAp5NhS9Bvb2EFFAyu-pWw3tEsOQauf1mesjoT_ZRh2Q6SE37RnM9P5jihZRHZKWl2mVDjcZFgmQt1DHf4W_YgtW1LajmJypOr_mhejPdg8M_Ox/s1600-h/P.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgug0Rmd4-I1QL3o1c_1hGoi7LIKIUBzdAp5NhS9Bvb2EFFAyu-pWw3tEsOQauf1mesjoT_ZRh2Q6SE37RnM9P5jihZRHZKWl2mVDjcZFgmQt1DHf4W_YgtW1LajmJypOr_mhejPdg8M_Ox/s200/P.JPG" width="156" /></a></div><br />
That was the last time I had met him and that was about 2 years ago.<br />
<br />
This time, even after looking all over the place and asking around, I could find no trace of my writer-artist. I was really disappointed since I was hoping Ginger could meet him and was sure he would come up with many stimulating things to say about her.<br />
<br />
What nagged me was that little voice that kept reminding me ‘He was old and smoked like a chimney. He may, very well, be dead.’<br />
<br />
P, by now, was back and absolutely refused to be taken in by this melodramatic (his words) idea of an eccentric lonely old artist who may have smoked himself to death on the streets of Delhi!<br />
<br />
‘He must have been shooed away in a police clearance and is merrily selling his wares elsewhere,’ he suggested firmly.<br />
<br />
And as the three of us walked away, I prayed that is the truth.<br />
<br />
I hope I find him once again someday and when (if??) I do, I MUST remember to ask him his name.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-65554754290631040392010-01-27T17:16:00.001+05:302010-01-28T11:16:03.539+05:30Aye Mere Watan Ke Logon…<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjke3O8y_XEqJjgBw5mkJub9-tmD9C7dwLMFjNfVuttHhI82BMpmR4TyjJ-aYhyphenhyphen2oB4n1_OnmYR7LMWgkNT3rlv2aUx5QqbZ9bHHC4CBhGuXONf9RtgFu2oLG4eX9E9d5EKelW7VJtvYlyH/s1600-h/P1060434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjke3O8y_XEqJjgBw5mkJub9-tmD9C7dwLMFjNfVuttHhI82BMpmR4TyjJ-aYhyphenhyphen2oB4n1_OnmYR7LMWgkNT3rlv2aUx5QqbZ9bHHC4CBhGuXONf9RtgFu2oLG4eX9E9d5EKelW7VJtvYlyH/s200/P1060434.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
</div><br />
<br />
‘Bharat Humko Jaan Se Pyaara Hain’ ( <a href="http://tinyurl.com/yefnzsu"><span style="color: #990000;">http://tinyurl.com/yefnzsu</span></a>) in Hariharan’s voice resonating from my friend’s car at 1:15 am reminded me that it was already India’s 61st Gantantra Diwas.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">‘Kal chutti hain, aur kuch der baith jao’ was what I had said when they were starting to leave at 12:30p.m.<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It is the truth. Republic day, for most of India’s billions today, is just another ‘chutti’. Late nights, late mornings, a lazy afternoon, a movie perhaps. <br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Thank God for a pukka Dilliwalla husband who woke me up with ‘Mera Rang de Basanti Chola’ ( <a href="http://www.raaga.com/play/?id=7081"><span style="color: #990000;">http://www.raaga.com/play/?id=7081</span></a>) playing loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to realise it was time to tune in to Doordarshan Kendra’s sidha prasaran of the Grand Parade!<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ClU07C426oR7c9DNL_3unn92odsdp9eG1VEGw0rKNzwazFMSfw4vq3b9tbPvu7L4Ho-_saf5f-F9AGWx3IBM6WqZvG5k4BR9qwsopNd2xSXdUVu7-1PmjiIjA9mkfnIstFgDgqexxM9l/s1600-h/P1060515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ClU07C426oR7c9DNL_3unn92odsdp9eG1VEGw0rKNzwazFMSfw4vq3b9tbPvu7L4Ho-_saf5f-F9AGWx3IBM6WqZvG5k4BR9qwsopNd2xSXdUVu7-1PmjiIjA9mkfnIstFgDgqexxM9l/s200/P1060515.JPG" width="186" /></a><br />
</div>It was foggy, foggier than it was last year. And as the commentator kept reminding you every 10 seconds, the fog was not in the least bit a deterrent to the hundreds who had gathered at Rajpath for the beautiful spectacle. It, infact, added a fairy tale effect to the whole event.<br />
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It never fails to fill my heart with a sense of pride…the jawans in their smart winter ceremonials, the magnificent India Gate with the Amar Jawan Jyoti burning consistently for the last 39 years, the floral rangolis, the padded children awaiting the Parade unmindful of the biting cold. Yes, for some, it is not after all just a ‘chutti’.<br />
</div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu671YiPnOC_7sRD-Wt4nqhqFggQwdWhMtdMZvoXG3oKw1no0V5i5ANoP3TNYQbPDMjIWVY3XfhKC7GVfJhMwNT-KsUCqfBs3UuA0pbbx407vo72YJUnhgId28Z8S6mgr9LXT1qobSZ_Vy/s1600-h/P1060520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu671YiPnOC_7sRD-Wt4nqhqFggQwdWhMtdMZvoXG3oKw1no0V5i5ANoP3TNYQbPDMjIWVY3XfhKC7GVfJhMwNT-KsUCqfBs3UuA0pbbx407vo72YJUnhgId28Z8S6mgr9LXT1qobSZ_Vy/s200/P1060520.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
</div>As I stood glued to the TV with my cup of steaming ginger tea, watching our PM paying tribute to those who had laid down their lives (so that we can watch TV sipping hot ginger tea), the poignant notes of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Last_Post">the last post </a>as always made my eyes grow moist. The customary 2 minutes silence isn’t so customary, I realised.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfcd_JrNeHL88dUKc_vwRbAwzh5gEuVivDOzdwAUYbqiRC4rIIAMlv8Gcw3-7pRbqKXo5-Ocv7CIFOM0AC8Ye9sCcYQOXhf2R9lm1sWUuHEaqHCvBkNJNwpHQTkWQTZKv-XeOiMQg8qnD/s1600-h/P1060527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfcd_JrNeHL88dUKc_vwRbAwzh5gEuVivDOzdwAUYbqiRC4rIIAMlv8Gcw3-7pRbqKXo5-Ocv7CIFOM0AC8Ye9sCcYQOXhf2R9lm1sWUuHEaqHCvBkNJNwpHQTkWQTZKv-XeOiMQg8qnD/s200/P1060527.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
</div>I tried to explain to my maid (who was equally glued to the TV!) why this day was different. <br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">She, a hyderabadi, who has never known winter as in ‘Delhi winter’ couldn’t for the life of her understand the excitement amidst the crowd in colourful overcoats, toupees and scarves. <br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">‘Transmission is so bad, didi’. <br />
</div>I realised she also didn’t understand the fairy tale effect!<br />
<br />
‘That’s dhund/kohra. Not bad transmission’<br />
<br />
‘Then why are all those people out there in the cold?’<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It was difficult but I tried to explain. I also tried to explain why early in the morning P stuck the tricolour miniatures on the dashboard of our car.<br />
</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">And why, as the National Anthem played in its full glory and the splendidly attired militia marched past, as P put it, it was worth the wait.<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Since 6 a.m. in the cold, dark morning, as he recounts, for the 9:35 a.m. parade. No complains because he had special keema sandwich and cups of hot tea to keep him going. <br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">That was 1982 and this is 2010. Though even a bottle of water is no longer allowed within 100 metres of Rajpath on D day, 10 year olds still choose to be out there rather than in their warm, air-conditioned, home theatre lounges.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-4rx1NdOx6rKDIkArHZUhp1iUOaUEltBfGagY1cLT4axVOi10twZFg3foZvPn_reTOtngEAWea3MAu4dpx1ltYqJvP6LdiGjXavfdrfQzmRRjLRI91H6b7xhC3FDtyD25md4XoLHAHt7v/s1600-h/P1060498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-4rx1NdOx6rKDIkArHZUhp1iUOaUEltBfGagY1cLT4axVOi10twZFg3foZvPn_reTOtngEAWea3MAu4dpx1ltYqJvP6LdiGjXavfdrfQzmRRjLRI91H6b7xhC3FDtyD25md4XoLHAHt7v/s200/P1060498.JPG" width="200" /></a>Any number of 26/11s or threats of para-gliding suicide bombers, cannot take away the pride and spirit of freedom from those who identify with it. <br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">As the dignitaries arrived, I realised one fact. Indian economy sure has leaped in bounds!!! Fleets of B7-level armored BMW 7 Series (Black for the PM and White for the VP) and stretched and armored Mercedes-Benz S-Class (for the President) screamed affluence.<br />
</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Despite the numerous TV viewings of the Republic Day parade on Rajpath (atleast 15 in my 30 odd years) the Armed Forces, in their glamorous march, never fail to take my breath away. Even as they showed off their newly acquired defence equipment, Lata Mangeshkar’s melodious notes echoed on Rajpath the song (<a href="http://tinyurl.com/ydfmy85"><span style="color: #990000;">http://tinyurl.com/ydfmy85</span></a>) that once had moved Pandit Nehru to tears.<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I no longer need to clear any General Knowledge exams, but like those days back in school, I had my ears tuned to pick up all the remarkable facts about our ‘shashastra sena bal’ as the commentator rattled them off in the emotion ridden, crystal clear ‘shudh Hindi’! <br />
</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The Khukri wielding Gurkhas from Nepal still are an integral part of Indian guerrilla warfare, the Jat Regiment, with their battle cry, adopted in 1955 जाट बलवान जय भगवान, has fought every battle for Indian soil since inception and now fights the foreign mercenaries in Kashmir, the Delhi Police stands tall (literally), with no relaxation in physical criteria for recruitment! <br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This Hindi of the Nalanda University lectures, of Javed Akhter’s lyrics and the chants of the Kumbh Mela further added to the aura of the Republic Day Parade. <br />
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</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">As we sat across the breakfast table awaiting the colourful tableaux, I could feel the jubilation in those gathered at Rajpath. <br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The fog had lifted slightly to make way for rays of sunshine as if to honour the event. <br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Faces, known and unknown were caught vividly by the roving camera eyes. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">‘That sure is an important man’, I said, as the camera caught P.Chidambaram.<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">‘Not anymore’, said P, ‘he is much more important’, referring to Pranab Mukherjee applauding as excitedly as a little girl in her yellow jacket, the tableau from Mijoram, playing S.D. Barman’s composition.’ He is going to decide how much money we shall be left with after the taxation!’ <br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Even before the serene notes of the santoor registered, Dr. Farooq Abdullah’s dignified image filled the screen. The tableau from our very own Switzerland passed by. <br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">A twinge of sadness never fails to touch my heart at any mention of this beautiful state. Those of us who has watched Tahaan ( <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1213928/synopsis"><span style="color: #990000;">http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1213928/synopsis</span></a>) would understand the vagaries that affect the simple but very beautiful people of Kashmir.<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Can we ever do anything to change things? Or will the likes of us be content with buying exotic kashmiri apples in air-conditioned malls, swoon over a Rohit Bal (million bucks worth) Pashmina shawl and just cry over a movie?<br />
</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I wondered what was going through Dr. Abdullah’s mind as he loudly cheered the handsome people of his homeland while the famous, romantic Kashmiri folklore "Walo mashooq myaaney" played in the background.<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The dabbawallas(<span style="color: #990000;"> </span><a href="http://www.mydabbawala.com/"><span style="color: #990000;">http://www.mydabbawala.com/</span></a> ) of Mumbai sure changed the mood. The Maharastrian in President Pratibha Patil couldn’t resist explaining excitedly to her South Korean counterpart Lee Myung-bak, the uniqueness of this ‘institution’.<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">By now, P had given me ample reminders of the lateness of the hour. What can be more incongruous than emergency duty at the hospital!<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The fairy tale parade had to be abandoned as I rushed off for a quick round of the patients, promising to myself, ‘I shall be back before the sukhois fly by’. <br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">But what I didn’t expect were the little tricolour badges on every hospital employee’s shirt! <br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Giri, our ward attendant wouldn’t probably be able to tell me what Republic Day means, but I was overwhelmed when he said ‘Happy Republic Day, madam’.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQiBGGoLCFxlsjtSpkaHqAap99ZLikO0pWvBdtNQOjy7nktjSNbTN9EzGPiSZnwmh-sZeeC1kOsjygUcQdxQqoXtBczALfDmuOXQSUp3S1HKvPEnw8XkWTW0bkHe4lXbsxXomeX77TwqKt/s1600-h/P1060509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQiBGGoLCFxlsjtSpkaHqAap99ZLikO0pWvBdtNQOjy7nktjSNbTN9EzGPiSZnwmh-sZeeC1kOsjygUcQdxQqoXtBczALfDmuOXQSUp3S1HKvPEnw8XkWTW0bkHe4lXbsxXomeX77TwqKt/s200/P1060509.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
</div>Though the Indian Airforce had gone on to end the parade with their grand ceremonial fly past without me cheering them on, my day was made.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Cheers to Us Indians and the spirit of Indian-ness!<br />
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</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2243527362433469923.post-41894764721736954362010-01-25T02:18:00.000+05:302010-01-27T14:24:38.335+05:30Me, Myself and a Blog<em>Every word leaves a memory in your heart – and it the sum of these memories that form sentences, paragraphs, books…’credits..Paulo coelho’s blog’</em><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This is the story of a girl who just wants to be herself. To love as she likes and to hate as she chooses to. To think and say and do as she likes.<br />And then, at the same time to do all this without offending.<br /><br />A contradiction she handles not to well!<br /><br />4 ½ times out of 5, one doesn’t really believe her when she speaks her mind. She usually says exactly what she thinks. Or worse still, they do believe her and conclude she is not exactly this angel.<br /><br />This blog isn’t about who will believe and who won’t. This isn’t about how anyone will think of you. This isn’t about who will or will not read it. In fact, this isn’t about anyone at all.<br /><br />How many of you have actually sat and written down your thoughts, uncaring about the implications? Forget writing, how many of us actually says all that we actually would like to say? Believe me, you owe it to yourself. To be yourself.<br /><br />That fine morning, when I announced across the breakfast table that I am starting a blog, P, without missing a beat, gave me his ‘we shall see’ look. Not without reason. The number of unfinished projects I have on hand range from stitching Buddy’s coat and Ginger’s belt, making their portrait to learning horse riding. Not to forget the three books I am currently reading. Undeterred, I persist. He makes way, clears the desk, brings in potted plants. Greenery helps, he says. Buddy and Ginger curl up near me, unflinching in their support. P decides to provide some background score, strumming away on the guitar. The atmosphere was too tempting to let pass…I promptly go back to my book!<br /><br />Now when you have so many things you want to talk about and live with someone as monosyllabilic as P, you got to do something about it. This blog idea was weighing very heavily on my mind. And thus passed 157 pages of my book.<br /><br />But this ‘Jane Austen Book Club’ is no ordinary book. The more I kept reading, the more I wanted to write.<br />The chronicling reminded me of those days back in school, when you write for school mags, arrange book clubs and stand up for numerous issues you think are afflicting this world. Always on the list of ‘those who talked in class’, I however, could never really ‘talk’ to anyone. ‘Dear diary’ was always my redeemer.<br />And then one day, I gave that up too. But then, that is another story, for some other day.<br /><br />Time has a sobering effect. You are not as belligerent as you once were. But deep down you remain the person that you are. Human behaviour changes, the person doesn’t.<br />I am a true ‘warrior of light’ ( <a href="http://warriorofthelight.com/engl/edi196_guerreiro.shtml">http://warriorofthelight.com/engl/edi196_guerreiro.shtml</a> ) and it’s only imperative that I remain so.<br /><br />My thoughts will be a part of numerous others afloat on the net, but for me, they will make a difference.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04910413735418121137noreply@blogger.com9