tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5826746896252066022024-03-19T10:37:05.579+05:30bluemoondreamRajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.comBlogger116125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-81877236142118871372023-09-30T18:11:00.002+05:302023-10-01T09:57:48.430+05:30പാതാള പൂന്താരകൻ ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><br /><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7xmAbmCHUqWlDQSjTmLS7PSjJg_sATu5vX6vRXhNvd41dufE77U59v8iUWsUqQOjbU2_BmYUo5IwOaOc-lH4_rGF_8GxSos4fwUy-83k-EGOytLd73oCBjusuRXw-yMN_yKyN4nlwjULFnolAk9NaD7UZnd2OE3RfQII0buOF41OqbQ5MisV8UvUtpWN/s640/PathalaPoontharakan.png" style="background: rgb(0, 0, 0); border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px;" /><br /></td></tr><tr><td><i>Pangio Pathala; a magnificent fish that lives way deep in the underground acquifers ...</i></td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;">നീ പാതാള പൂന്താരകനെ പറ്റി കേട്ടിട്ടുണ്ടോ ഷാജീവാ?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;">ആരും കാണാത്ത ആഴത്തിൽ പതുങ്ങിയിരിക്കുന്ന ഒരു ഭയങ്കരനാ.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;">ഒരു ദിവസം ഒരു യക്ഷി അവനെ കണ്ടു പിടിക്കാൻ തീരുമാനിച്ചു. കാട്ടിൽ കൂടെ ഒരു കൊട്ടേം തലയിൽ വെച്ചാണു യക്ഷിയുടെ പോക്ക്. നല്ല ഭംഗിയുള്ള കാട്ടിൽ കൂടെയാ പോക്ക്.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;">ചുറ്റും എങ്ങും കാണാത്ത ജീവികളാ.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;">ഒരു കുഴപ്പം. യക്ഷിക്ക് വഴി അറിയില്ല.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;">പക്ഷെ കാട്ടിലെ മരങ്ങളും മൃഗങ്ങളും പക്ഷികളും എല്ലാം യക്ഷിയെ കണ്ട് അങ്ങോട്ടും ഇങ്ങോട്ടും കണ്ണിറുക്കി. അവർക്ക് യക്ഷിയെ അറിയാം.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;">കുറേ ദൂരം ചെന്നപ്പോ, വഴിയിൽ ഒരു പന്ത് കിടക്കുന്നു. യക്ഷി അതെടുത്ത് കൊട്ടയിൽ ഇട്ടു. അത് അവളുടെ കൊട്ടയിൽ ചുരുണ്ടു കിടന്നു. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;">പിന്നെയും കുറേ ദൂരം ചെന്നപ്പോ യക്ഷിക്ക് തോന്നി - ആ വഴി പോയി നോക്കാം? പിന്നെയും കുറച്ചു ചെന്നപ്പോ തോന്നി - ഈ വഴി പോയി നോക്കാം? അല്ലെങ്കി വേണ്ട, മറ്റേ വഴി?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;">അങ്ങനെ യക്ഷി നടപ്പു തന്നെ.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;">പക്ഷെ പൂന്താരകൻ എവിടെയാ ഇരുന്നതെന്നറിയാമോ?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><br />
<div style="border: 1px solid; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 80%;"><div style="text-align: left;"><blockquote><br />Bruce Banner: <i>You found me.</i><br />
Betty Ross: <i>You weren't that hard to find.</i><br />
Bruce Banner: <i>Yes, I was.</i><br />
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-- The Hulk, 2003.<br /></blockquote><br /></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">Story seed courtesy: The trailer of - ചുരുളി, 2021.</span></div>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-83306450170056477532014-03-17T17:36:00.001+05:302014-03-19T10:01:11.695+05:30.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0Lq4WLVffYiMhBl1SOMcuwdSVoUxFHW74TnIPZRg-IJY9mJegWhyphenhyphen3FzF0ZohmKyod1nX7XewkK3aBAM5ErEgacYOJfJzFOGJ71SkPGKPRBC36CLcHsgXufQxAC3iAoRTcSGtvDB8ksG5/s982/IMG_7112.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="" class="aligncenter bordered" height="800" id="blogsy-1395058498625.835" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0Lq4WLVffYiMhBl1SOMcuwdSVoUxFHW74TnIPZRg-IJY9mJegWhyphenhyphen3FzF0ZohmKyod1nX7XewkK3aBAM5ErEgacYOJfJzFOGJ71SkPGKPRBC36CLcHsgXufQxAC3iAoRTcSGtvDB8ksG5/s800/IMG_7112.jpg" width="556" /></a><span style="line-height: 1.3em;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 1.3em;">The boy looked inside,</span><br />
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The land was brimming with greenery. Thin blades of grass sprouted from everywhere, many of them ending in bright little dots of cheerful flowers. An occasional butterfly rested on some, spreading and flapping its patterned wings to catch the bright sun.<br />
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He gently parted the grass with his hands and peered in.<br />
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The wet dark earth was covered with green moss, glistening with drops of dew. A few red ants walked past, murmuring behind each others backs. A bright spotted lady bug paused; and crawled back inside the leaf bed.<br />
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The boy hesitated.<br />
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He stayed still for a few moments. Then he extended his hand and gingerly touched the earth with his index finger. <br />
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The earth creaked and gave way. It began to part.<br />
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The boy looked inside.<br />
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It was there, red and wet and pulsing in its relaxed rhythmic beat.<br />
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He touched it.<br />
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It had become tender with love.</div>
Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-10429434939942751272012-09-10T16:01:00.001+05:302012-09-10T16:10:46.133+05:30In the moment ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnnPd-tjs6ZePvhukxdJz1KQnhee1ZyJNhSso0lX63mZWsledz-_JRsZFk47w8nvnHcJFXPiWx0ceBRUkfgOyPAkPION1HUc68UG5rgc3KJMfItuGRLkSNZTKzoLjWz0dSrZcik2cHsS-Q/s640/20120910_inthemoment.jpg" id="blogsy-1347273597148.0408" class="aligncenter bordered" alt="" width="640" height="380"><br></div>The internal monologue.<br/><br/>All of us have that feature; one feature that takes up a major percentage of our minds. It is the pseudo conversation like thought stream that goes on inside you. It runs in a constant thread in your brain most of the time, sometimes sharp and strong and at other times a little feeble, maybe.<br/><br/>The internal monologue remembers and analyses your past, imagines and plans stuff that you want to do - today, tomorrow, next week and far in the future, it ponders whether what you are doing is really the best thing to do etc. etc. <br/><br/>But, as you can realise if you observe it, rarely does it nestle about in the present; the immediate present, right now, in the moment.<br/><br/>'In the moment' is an altogether different sensation plane. <br/><br/>Its something you will experience when your internal monologue is mostly suspended, but all your senses are awake, and actively attended upon. How can one slide oneself into that state?<br/><br/>Well, you can do it the next time when you take a walk.<br/><br/>Consciously stop immersing yourself in thoughts, and keep walking. <br/><br/>Look at the colour of the ground; the colour of the ground is different from that of the stone lying nearby; look at the grey dark texture on the stone; don't think, just look.<br/><br/>Look at the leaves, see how one bends in the passing breeze but the next one shakes and vibrates instead. <br/><br/>See the ants and insects crawling on the leaves, watch how their legs move in perfect sync. <br/><br/>Listen to the tones in the next bird's call or dog's barking or an engine revving. Hear the twigs crackle under your feat.<br/><br/>Watch how the sky and trees are reflected in the next muddy puddle.<br/><br/>See how the world moves past when you walk forward, changes in perspective and angles and watch how things move into your field of view.<br/><br/>Keep yourself immersed in the sensory world; do not think; just see everything you can watch, listen to everything you can hear, smell every waft of air and observe everything that moves and everything that stands still.<br/><br/>Feel the breeze on your skin, and in every hair strand.<br/><br/>Now when your internal monologue kicks back in, pause a bit; <br/><br/>You were 'in the moment' for a brief while and are now back.Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-29530770648947475412012-08-21T12:28:00.001+05:302012-09-10T16:08:03.886+05:30Thought rewinding ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijd9LqbUa3sM55CzjPXV-WmhrFO777QpmMh5oulAqlhRbf9P8NSqdQVhFt8oElfEITT-MAUk4jm45z09P0BtsbDchvFJQZbLgPDyT8o1-kswUN51gHTcVcwXeq79_Flzr7Sygi-u7FJabv/s640/20120821_thoughtrewinding.JPG" id="blogsy-1347273470793.9822" class="aligncenter bordered" alt="" width="640" height="482"></div>Try to arrest your constantly flowing thoughts for a moment,<br/><br/>Its like you have been trekking down a heavily wooded hillside and have suddenly come out into a clearing; a grassy clearing with a large something in the middle. The something would be the image of your mind's last thought. That image is very clear in your mind, and mostly the image of the just previous thought also. You may also remember the image of a thought that occurred sometime back; like say when you started the trek, to fit it into this scene.<br/><br/>But can you bring forth into your mind the images of every big stone, huge tree and colorful flower on the path that you just trekked down? <br/><br/>Translating; can you remember all the thoughts, or images of thoughts, that occurred between that old thought whose image is clear to you and the very last thought thats crisp on your mind?<br/><br/>Mostly not, unless you are aregular practioner of the art of thought rewinding.<br/><br/>Thought rewinding should begin, obviously, from the very last thought. Mostly, the image of the just previous thought would also be clear in your mind or you could rather easily recall it. But the image of the one prior to that may not be visible. Do not lose heart, its surely hiding somewhere remote in your neuron circuits. With some effort and a few trials you should succeed in bringing it back. Now look for the previous one, it may get harder as you go back. Sometimes, surprisingly, chunks of thought links may present themselves all in a flash. <br/><br/>This way, slowly, one by one you can complete all the links till the initial one; and you have successfully done what I call thought rewinding. You may also start from the initial thought or explore from both ends and meet in the middle or fit chunks in the middle etc.<br/><br/>And,<br/><br/>You are said to have attained 'Thought Nirvana' when you can rewind all the way back to very first thought that occurred to you when you woke up today!<br/><br/>:-)Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-74767598737693553392012-08-18T10:05:00.001+05:302023-07-30T17:08:34.793+05:30Languages, a wandering species of living beings ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="aligncenter bordered" height="427" id="blogsy-1345265419086.8232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpad2D2yjokCSKfu_oVhn6ldrDNbE7OPeoj1xnMj6kA4Ju-k-V6LiZtI56fUH_kzewT54sSxSC1uDKXadr7SQ5x9kEK_SQdN1uK8Egc0hsbsQY6x6WBnCwr4uuso2u-nQdKq9_yWPSrw/s640/IMG_4057.jpg" width="640" /><br /></div>Ever considered your mother tongue as a living being? A throbbing, pulsing organism that lives in the evanescent spoken words of its people, sleeping in all the inscribed letters if it has a script, swaying about in the phrases, idioms, sayings, songs and stories, leaving its footprints with the written novels, books and poems; ever growing and expanding.<br /><br />A language thus viewed more than qualifies to be considered as a species of living being. A species that senses the world around it and processes the inputs through its people, the manifesting extensions, expressing its reactions through them as those spoken words, inscribed letters, songs and stories and such.<br /><br />How about the evolution of languages? could it be similar to the evolution of other flora and fauna? Maybe; The first type of language that came came into existence might be the sign language, the lean, low-fat, no frills form probably equivalent to single cell organisms which are the forebearers of all living beings today. Then they must have evolved depending upon their environment.<br /><br />Consider languages in geographically and or otherwise separated regions; germinating, incubating and taking birth in unconnected worlds. They evolve in different environments, adding different organs; extenders, antennae, long necks and jumping legs, suited for that environment. They develop a vocabulary, grammar and other arsenal to express complex concepts. Separately they grow into completely different unconnected organisms, but living in the very same universe.<br /><br />What happens when two unconnected and different species of languages come into contact? How would they interact? Can we compare that with with way two previously unknown biological species interact?<br /><br />Could they be staring at each other intently at the beginning? They may growl at each other, uttering different sounds mostly meaning the same thing. They may just turn around and go on each others way. But what could they do if the circumstances demand them to interact? Would they then circle around? watching and observing, forming an impression of the other? trying to learn what the other is doing? <br /><br />They might have to try and find a common ground, any common ground, a basis to start reconciling with each other. They may have to resort to sign language itself, the most basic common ground, to make one meaningful to the other.<br /><br />Then it may progress, words for the different signs, pointing to the same things and uttering words for them in each others tongue, connecting them and understanding sentences, comparing alphabets, vowels, consonants and more and more ...<br /><br />:-)<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img alt="" class="aligncenter" height="194" id="blogsy-1345265419025.4866" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDxdP-Ey5TBjRSoiECW3RYILkTFkhv6SjsUx52eqw3JxafuMbw6T7WFJqQoxvn2lyFj_GQJwrqZ0LkEgrIeIRtEqTUiVIxzkzVD5J7XEWOPenfxiAnHgyFMZy2_74c3Hg9gH2dFaNYx4/s600/snippid.jpg" width="600" /><img alt="" class="aligncenter" height="191" id="blogsy-1345265419101.0466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzh8a2H9xG_Msh59eveutLxCoZH1mkPPnEqt-BtCW7aaoH8AwXnLnTuY3EsalpCiyCyuC3OaBKDSOuXbEqt_ZGXJND5T24AtdYcJAOVPuBPVU-NK74uQ5gHV1QmpveAfXfeSKArF5XC7g/s600/IMAGE_222FBE5F-9A4E-4BBE-92CF-728A941C41D5.jpg" width="600" /></div>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-23715024039191857182012-08-14T10:07:00.000+05:302012-08-14T10:09:47.806+05:30Are all your love songs in the same key?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2-bbM6tmCttL_brlv_XeugbWZm7MgwCTcAnn4iO9GgJDNK_UyT5nzOmoCHjDanlhMfCsaSbynwgrjAc17fiuw-BjqluZLn-6hRA8hGhsUlkGFj02LKOS4Fyf2HTqES7ZkmgZrmISPHG9/s640/2012-814_allyourlovesongs.JPG" id="blogsy-1344919160031.1824" class="aligncenter bordered" alt="" width="640" height="353"></div> Are all your love songs in the same key?<br/><br/>maybe ... :-)<br/><br/>It nevertheless might mostly be true that nobody acts in the exact same manner in any life situation if it chooses to repeat itself after some time.<br/><br/>So why would all love songs of one be in the same key?<br/><br/>Firstly, what is the meaning of that hypothesis?<br/><br/>It means exactly the same as in the music realm. Two songs in the same key can sound and feel very different, but one is able to extract an underlying theme that connects them.<br/><br/>Along the same lines, a common theme could probably be extracted from the various apparently unconnected amorous exertions of any personality. The self's intangible amorphous 'definition' of 'love' would be that common theme. All those amorous exertions probably can be linked as different songs composed in the key of this particular amorphous definition.<br/><br/>One could postulate that some extensive introspection would be needed on the person's part to decipher this common key. Individuals who would not want to bother with this would mostly keep singing all their love songs in the same key. The key itself probably might change a little with time, but solidifies more and more as life progresses.<br/><br/>But, as any learned musician can, an enlightened self can consciously keep altering the key once in a while, giving the songs different feels, spice and variation.<br/><br/>Also, do remember that a myriad of wonderful songs can be composed in the same key itself.<br/><br/>... :-)Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-29361462997165361652012-08-12T08:36:00.000+05:302012-08-13T07:33:35.988+05:30Imagination and Improbability Drive ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwMPdZ9WdtDulquOyF8RMjGNM08baWUOoZice38fIU_hHTEKLNJn6F6NKTiZ-Bi9VvmJEnwViD11gz3Q6IqkkTJcpzThvD8UGu5h-VCJC8LH1hTcE5aBL2MG7GGviR0Hbs67huKPxtI8A/s800/IMAGE_86C9DF85-39CD-450F-A506-C9E85C8707F5.JPG" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0); border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px;" /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
The Infinite Improbability Drive, in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, is a wonderful new method of crossing vast intersteller distances in a mere nothingth of a second without all that tedious mucking about in hyperspace.
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It is based on a particular perception of quantum theory: a subatomic particle is most likely to be in a particular place, such as near the nucleus of an atom, but there is also a small probability of it being found very far from its point of origin (for example close to a distant star). Thus, a body could travel from place to place without passing through the intervening space (or hyperspace, for that matter), if you had sufficient control of probability. This way the drive “passes through every conceivable point in every conceivable universe almost simultaneously,” meaning the traveller is “never sure where they’ll end up or even what species they’ll be when they get there” and therefore it’s important to dress accordingly.
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In essence it is nothing but a <a href="http://www.earthstar.co.uk/drive.htm" target="_blank">contraption</a> that attempts to create a probability field of infinite improbability. This field can make things happen; things that have the remotest, minutest, infinitesimal chances of happening in normalcy. As said before, the travellers of the infinite improbability drive can have no idea what they will be holding when the drive is turned off.
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A point worth deliberating at this juncture is that the human brain, through the travails of evolution, is already capable of employing such a drive.
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Imagination.
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Think of that micro moment at which you had the stellar idea that lead you to the Nobel prize, or, mm, your girlfriend's undulant adoration would also do. At that very fine, thin moment, your brain clamps to something that previously was not anywhere in the remotest realms of your consciousness.
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It can be said that in such moments the brain micro momentarily switches to near infinite improbability drive and comes out with something unknown before, something un-conceived and completely new, something that only had the remotest, minutest, infinitesimal chance of residing in your thought-space.
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Think of the micro instant; instant when Newton thought why the apple should fall down, when Einstein thought that light's velocity should be constant, when Michelangelo thought that Monalisa should contra-smile, or, rather, something very recent,
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when me postulated that the human brain has an improbability drive,
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:-)
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and such, and such ...Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-53231482411835253012012-08-09T08:26:00.001+05:302023-07-30T16:58:25.543+05:30The most vital ingredient in cooking ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Cooking is an art, at the very least.
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The art of picking and selecting, preaparing and processing, and serving up the most wholesome and succulent recipes; which are, in other words, a harmonious mix; of ingredients.
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Ingredients play a vital role in determining the palatability of the product of the cooking act. They have to be carefully chosen, pre-processed and mixed in proper proportions so that the recipe under making attains its full vitality.
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What is, or could be, the most vital ingredient in cooking? The one which can, by it's sheer magic, turn even an under average product into a tasty dish? The silver bullet in the chef's arsenal?
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What could it be? pepper? garlic? parseley? cloves? ... na, nothing of the sort.
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<br />
It is, love.
<br />
<br />
Love, for her who is gonna taste the dish. Love, that wants to make her go 'mmm...' with the first mouthful. Love, that likes her to lick her fingers in total satisfaction. Love, that yearns to make her smile.
<br />
<br />
Love tenders the spices, adjusts the thickness, restores the flavour and heals the recipe.
<br />
<br />
The silver bullet in the chef's arsenal that, by its sheer magic, can turn an under average product into a tasty dish.
<br />
<br />
That love, is the most vital ingredient in cooking.
<br /><br />
:-)<br />
<br /><br />
<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody>
<tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGpOugWaYlj4nUGAWRrjzqdbdgPkFP7CJUk9voVBzvMoMQCjjYQE80KNrLWwjDq7inf_uhhUeBMJg_4TND3BS19iobbjx7KtXsDtLLA361Z8iy985HT0YTSYPSnqElDW8XUdViw6mdQzk/s800/MonkeyHeadStew.gif" style="background: none 0% 0% repeat scroll rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></td></tr>
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<br />
</div>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-78693257769364611642012-08-08T16:30:00.000+05:302012-08-08T16:30:00.967+05:30why? why? why?<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody>
<tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5U5d3zsVehVJRcNjkhfjY5p0QgvicRB5yKDiQ0AgLTlU7_q44Uc_ToJWYREkawjOYoohvBD-Q8n1lfLIzA9Wvqx4cUk_jpbzWOTfkAkp6wm3IYbYYztzZGRnP7XT5hbghL1nTsYj04M/s800/20120808_whywhywhy.jpg" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0); border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px;" /></td></tr>
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<tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZJkAkzoTOnUQary8xHz0ciuMgdpnTmYA2mkzxZPGUmpcxOasdoG64mqhcS62AtWvILWNjHhhgYOuCcQRSMYGcfTZ91wmXni_GgQH3lkIW2mneRQYNwSB2mBbw0pmA8P_eA-PFKgqwGc/s800/whywhywhy.png" /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-54321232223748967692012-08-07T18:28:00.000+05:302012-08-13T07:21:54.702+05:30Wheels of change and relics ...<div>
<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody>
<tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCLRkvxbL_9RXZ_2XCatIdEihb1WHsFv1ng8od5Q5PbIUC9SMKrr74U8Nk2G55e5E6SHKktoJeimmpk5705u6iT5ZaK6VHBSE3DlTyj9QyN8vfYo0BqJ-w7PhL1KmqikhaXVsQaYMRDLQ/s800/IMAGE_352C7511-B721-4A62-B099-93383E8FA150.JPG
" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0); border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px;" /></td></tr>
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<br />
Jalahalli is an area about 30 kms from the centre of Bangalore, or so to speak.
<br />
<br />
Kenneth Anderson, the famous Irish hunter-writer who lived in British India before the 70's writes about an incident in Jalahalli. This must have happened somewhere in the 60's. He talks about a Jalahalli that is a mildly forested area with lots of wastelands and areca nut plantations. Large areas of scrubbed thorny land merging into the forests. There, he tells the story of a leapord who strayed into one of those plantations, and the story of the people who try to get rid of it. The leapord fights valiantly and mauls and kills a number of people though he himself gets badly shot, incarcerated and injured, and dies of blood loss and fatigue.
<br />
<br />
Turn forward for just about fifty or so years, which is well within the range of an average person's life, and look at Jalahalli now.
<br />
<br />
Now Jalahalli is a bustling suburb, buildings and shops and broad roads, apartments and maddening crowds. Not even a remote sign of shrub lands and such. Leapords live only in children's stories and the Discovery channel.
<br />
<br />
The turning wheels of change have rolled them far back and away. They are now old, forgotten;
<br />
<br />
They have been made relics.
<br />
<br />
<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody>
<tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yCultnqTJDZZ_3PcBm2QEXIWUDhQ2bDPF25qMynnKV8-9oGvlV9zFRuF1wDDzfNXxqif1g_46iNRe-GeA8KlBfTu9dFp7H4lE058_EEpK8KXfEOUl9MV8fG6JozhW3gSWbmjKzgXVAw/s800/EscalatorMemories.jpg" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
and yet, in this turning wheels of change, something remains the same, constant, immutable throughout;
<br/><br/>
which is, open your mind, and see, the land, the canvas, the earth ...
<br/><br/>
and one Malayalam poem snippet,
<br />
<br />
<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody>
<tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB04NJ7PhWwltpFVQQGFsqmdfw9tTGcHq-TjmluugOBkAhydxADWpDVHjihEgrpe_iaH6Ww47s3a-IuqCJXBQQGkFC4HXQzXgjW7vZUUjJswD1k7kXoXbfvcw_q4q3mzJb2tei6sZXR-I/s800/kunjunnikavitha.png" style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px;" /></td></tr>
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</div>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-62429684313991464822012-08-06T10:04:00.000+05:302012-08-13T07:18:04.132+05:30Physical reminders ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><table style="text-align: center;" width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvo4njdz0cp77LRsAGwjeLX08DGLl_TvnqtfW2_CociWVXfpuU-Hpx4MUSD7Jw0dJkzG2THxPRmdhyphenhyphen1frTs4jy4vzDHz392U1kKmZHYQ4WPXD3JaDBmIgi07Y6kaFfUYX5soAhGRXo39I/s800/20120806_physicalreminders.jpg" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0); border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px;" /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
There are many devices and schems people use to remind them of things to be remembered, done, despatched etc.<br /><br />When thinking about reminders, I am reminded of some particular sort them that I often use, and I think most people do in one form or another, which I call 'physical reminders' ...
<br /><br />
Now what in the very milky way is a physical reminder? Let me explain with an example ...
<br /><br />
Sunday morning, I have washed clothes in the washing machine and have put them in the clothesline on the terrace. Now they have to be taken back in the evening or else they might get wet again in a chance rain in the night or from the certain dew of the next morning. Now I could certainly set an alarm in my mobile phone at say like 5.30 in the evening or so to ring me and remind me to tackle the clothes. Instead, I do something else; I keep the washing machine lid open.<br /><br />Now, an open washing machine lid is an abnormal thing, an anomaly in The Matrix. Whenever I see the open lid, I am reminded that the clothes are on top, and to decide whether I want to take them in now! I, then think, how was the amount of sun today, was it cloudy etc. etc. and whenever I feel that the clothes would be dry enough, I go up and take them back and close the lid.
<br /><br />
That's what I mean by a physical reminder; a physical unusualness, abnormality, or anomaly, to remind you of something. Since its an anomaly, you are certain to remember what its supposed to remind you of.
<br /><br />
Another one; When am in bed in the night, about to doze off, I remember that tomorrow I have to take two passport size photos of me to office. Now, I dont want to get up and put the photos in the backpack then, instead I throw my purse which is sitting on the bed side stand to the center of the floor. That's certainly an anomaly! When I get up in the morning, the first thing I see is the purse lying on the center of the floor and am immediately reminded to put the photos in the backpack. Purpose achieved!
<br /><br />
And I have a bunch of such contrivances in my repertoire.
<br /><br />
One antagonist anecdote here; in the film 'The Day I Became a Woman' by Marzieh Makhmalbaf, the third part, a rich elderly widow who inherited a lot of money decides to buy and get everything that was denied to her in her youth and her childhood by the rules of the society and religion. She ties many colored ribbons to every one of her fingers to remind her of the multiple things she wanted. She hires many boys to help her, take her to the market, carry the things for her etc. She goes about buying and getting everything, ribbon by ribbon ...
<br /><br />
till one last ribbon remains ... but for the life of her, she can't remember what it was supposed to remind her of.
<br/><br/>
:-)
</div>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-83054863772754794022012-08-04T17:25:00.001+05:302023-07-30T16:54:50.456+05:30Entertainment for the kid ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
The middle aged man sat in the train trying to engross himself in the day's edition of The Economic Times. His head, where baldness had started making its very slow ascend, did not have many of the grey strands yet. His family sat around and across him which included his middle aged wife, who was herself buried in some kind of magazine; a teenage daughter, elder one, busy herself with a book, and two boy kids - one probably has just started to go to school, and the still younger one maybe is of three or four years of age.</div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
He is immersed in reading. The two kids are quarrelsome, a rather obvious case of sibling rivalry. He gets irritated at times by the ruckus the kids are making - and shouts at them to behave. He goes back to his reading, jumping from one article to another one. He is probably aware of me squinting at him and the whole scene intermittently but clearly has no difficulty in ignoring me.</div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
One could postulate that he, his adult self rather, is trying to provide itself with 'entertainment' by the reading that he is performing. This may sound like an injustice to the conventional sense of the word - 'entertainment' - but deep down the psychological purpose probably is the same. The adult self is getting entertained. He is completely in control of himself, prim and proper; no emotional surf breaking the placid sea of his face.</div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
The scene changes after some time. The two kids start playing the game of cricket using their fingers. One is the batsman and the other the bowler. Both have to show, at the same instant, a number, using the fingers of one arm only. Thats one ball. If the bowler manages to show the same number as the batsman's, then the batsman is out. If they are different the batsman gets a number of runs equivalent to the number he has shown. One bats till he gets out, then the other bats and tries to outscore him. They shout, the younger one sometimes screams, with a raw pleasure in each show of fingers.</div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
The father looks up at times on this game. He seems to be slowly picking up the rules, without any conscious trying, from the ongoing exchanges. The elder kid is psychologically advanced, and often cheats the yonger one by employing a very minute delay in showing his fingers. The younger one wants Daddy as the referee and prods and pulls him into their middle. The father, having almost finished his Economic Times, obliges rather gingerly. Now frequently during balls where he loses out, the younger one looks at Daddy and questions, "Papa, late show?". Papa thinks for a a few seconds, and acknowledges sometimes, othertimes rejects vociferously with a vigorous shake of head. Couple of cliffhanger matches and the Papa is soon engrossed in the whole thing.</div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
Now the younger one wants to play against Papa. The elder one takes up the referee role. The game ends up being a close contest - Papa is batting to outscore the kid. Now all three of them are excited and make noise at each ball. The kid hits Papa out just when he needed couple more runs and wins the game! Ha!</div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
As he was slowly recovering himself from the excited state he catches a glimpse of me squinting at him and sheepishly tries to hide an automatically creeping smile from his lips. </div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
Now its the kid in him, the child self, that is getting entertained. The difference is stark - his self is more prone to surging emotional waves. His whole being is at instants catapulted to exalted states of consciousness. His face is no more placid.</div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
A joyous state, this is - one very mellow, plesant, sparkling and bubbling inside with laughter - from my own experiences of this.
<br /><br />
...
</div>
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody>
<tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUkPaKu1f7yLTtPM58OfuWBuChv61hS1JTaRY_8b5hyphenhyphenH17cyZStGJYtVppaFx0fQmssVncYsZ8fY5VnxSgfwXp8gQVvtVTC52Zwp47seUH478CHx_wPdonzv_9ZilAq2CZSGT1r7p39M/s800/20120804_entertainmentforthekid.gif" style="background: none 0% 0% repeat scroll rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></td></tr>
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</div>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-15092455445591825742012-08-03T20:00:00.000+05:302012-08-13T07:03:42.698+05:30Pace of life ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQdJODMbHE-hWHw4sqtf2OZcxdyN1B4-F2q-gBwAINndrEbYrf1L17D5YwlqQwNtK95tgj5kIIXSZOdS69guplTOlhavilseEfTOCULxUrJCxvDdl3wW5BQ0YO9TsUwQTs2PBT0eItxs/s800/paceoflife.JPG" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0); border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px;" /></td></tr><br /></tbody></table>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
pace of life ...<br />
<br />
its a very volatile thing ... every night when you sleep, really sleep, it almost diminishes to zero as much as you can sense it ... then in the morning it starts again ...<br />
<br />
and among the metro dwellers, its not uncommon for the pace of life to accelerate dizzyingly, just after waking up ... engines revving, rubber screeching on the asphalt ... the surroundings whirring past ... fast, blazing .. as randomly errupting emotions try to cling on to the speeding apparition in vain but steadfast ...<br />
<br />
this might go on ... sometimes slowing down a bit, other times at max rotations per minute ... till you hit bed again ... common, very common ...<br />
<br />
but then there is the other side ... when you really get a chance ... a break for a week or so ... in some idyllic .. or just relaxing, soothing place ... no violent noises ... no constant interrupts to process ... slow breath ... feeling the sips of a cool drink in the mouth ... expecting the next salubrious meal with a tingling tongue ... softly purring happy stomach ... slow turning sun ... breeze .. shades, glades ... and trees soaked in light ... blue sky and cushy puffs of clouds ... sound of flowing water ...<br />
<br />
now this is slow pace ... which quite obviously is more regenerating ... detoxing, calming ...<br />
<br />
but is there a natural fequency to life?<br />
<br />
and if there is, if our pace of life accidently matches it, will there be a resonance?<br />
<br />
and if it contiues for long enough .. will life shatter like a shiny champange glass?<br />
<br />
... into a thousand glinting randomly shaped pieces??<br />
</div>
<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkBqqTx_TFze8uNgxZWnUaRawhB_nns7Yp5hLcwi7d-oifhMA9G_sj7yBO9M6MYMX-qDJOOxfHzDuZ6NJauDZIBB1WUbzJzEzjuSNYTBe_RDR1t2LVAIfWKdWMTw97NMtslqI_CDG6IU/s800/paceoflife-calvinhobbes-scientificexperiment.gif" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0);" /></td></tr><br /></tbody></table>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-52167692027328351772011-10-29T15:34:00.005+05:302011-11-29T11:10:31.046+05:30enlightened ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7OvsVhPqWPNksDXO_IsE0TBBx37Xt2ifLKA2yAxqHLAwJ6_Lah2ztItYOde4LoSyYqCAP-_2AC2ZSQA3RDrBMY3puU4RDRcn8VYKRVC_fiwrpcxhSWJGPul4dW1FYbn0aVoR6Iz-MCKc/s800/mohabbat.JPG" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0); border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px;" /></td></tr><br /></tbody></table><table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsB46GZz1e3u_Q_mAES86NYawknPOUDonVjbPiOaDkc_3O037E6Sght8FuGR_0dodKvcaNqo_EvfXHlG5jrdOdN-GR5T40E771V2i_sOwbyZwBbypRWpzmoLwrqLa9bgTTGDv69-ZRIM/s800/kaunkehtahai.png"/></td></tr><br /></tbody></table>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-41060625533192672922011-10-21T08:38:00.007+05:302011-10-21T08:46:01.017+05:30Knowing that you are happy ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><img alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLEIvdz5hYH-vcliYOytZO3laJ7CQn-rB-yflfnSfceEazbqRbZL6mZyoKBvYZV1JdawuqOHwkx5kOiaXLFz57-Qzlts9QUNYhU3lz1N7t7t_K3EwIO4-L87rmrLc5EsTNWG26nsBF1RE/s800/knowingthatyouarehappy.jpg" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0); border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px;" /></td></tr><br /></tbody></table><br />Do we always know it when we are happy?<br /><br />Maybe not;<br /><br />Sometimes when we are experiencing happiness, we may not actually be very conscious about it. We go on through the phase, unawares. Later, sometimes, we look back at time that has flown past, and suddenly, probably with a bit of amazement, realise how happy we had been. <br /><br />It's great to be happy, and be conscious about it as well, at the same time.<br /><br />Probably the brain can be trained, and be equipped with happiness sensors, not to miss out on the consciousness. <br /><br />:-)Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-40413749246775143132011-10-13T09:21:00.003+05:302011-10-13T09:39:29.605+05:30Engineering a surprise ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBJmMeRXVcHXc2kIWS25ybqu03ApD8-D0uYw3TSoVJfO0wcCrGf4TBB2ns4uEPpksMuz8NmVyqxYdy4t8p6yUoLV11MfuWshrLDTbt13ArIaK9myWk6qJ_5JOQNrqmv78JRouecktUYyg/s800/engineeringasuprise.jpg" alt="" style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0);" /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />scene finale:<br /><br />You hear footsteps outside approaching the door. Languid, lazy setps. She has been moody through the whole day. The thud of a bag being put down on the parapet, riff raff noises of foraging inside it, mettalic rattle of a key.<br /><br />The key starts clicking inside the door lock.<br /><br />The music starts flowing, mellow and feeble as it starts.<br /><br />Slowly the door opens, she enters with tired but suspicious eyes; she has detected the music, feeble though it is, now.<br /><br />Time stands still for some immeasurable parts of a second.<br /><br />Her mouth opens wide. Shes trying to take in the whole scene and interpret it, overwhlemed.<br /><br />Yellow light seeping in through the blinds flooding the room, reflecting off the walls and the hanging ribbons and confetti; balloons on the floor flip flopping in the gentle wandering wind; you standing with a mesmerising smile; the huge blossoming flower basket ... the cake ... the music ...<br /><br />The music, it starts building up, slowly rising through the crescendos ...<br /><br />You can see emotion rising inside her, like transparent bubbles from a champagne bottle when its about to be opened. Her eyes are shining brightly, beaming, bubbles, rising ...<br /><br />And it bursts out.<br /><br />You sense the incredible ripeness, a ripe and mellow thing you feel inside the orange vapory warmth engulfing you.<br /><br />---<br /><br />well now, rewinding ...<br /><br />You start planning days in advance, forecasting and trying to pick the suitable day when it can work. You also have to make sure that not a hint slips out even by chance at any circumstances about your devious plans. Things change dynamically and you doubt if the day you have picked would work or not, but then you decide to go ahead with it anyway. Its difficult to buy stuff and hide them at home, so you have to wait till the very day to get everything required. All this while you keep speculating whether it will work or bomb.<br /><br />The day arrives. You see her off on her way to office. <br /><br />Download the music. Mmm, iPod file system has some errors, google, fix, does not work, google, fix, ah, works. Download to iPod, test, yeah works. Phew!<br /><br />Now there is a chance that she might come back early and direct to where you work; so you think up some excuse, call her up and tell her that you have to go on an important off-site stuff and would be a little late from work. You plot the plan to sneak out of office and get everything and set up the show before she comes in the evening. <br /><br />Oops, midway through the day she calls and says some big problem at her work and she feels all moody, mmm, ...<br /><br />But you stick on with the plan, hoping things would be fine ...<br /><br />Again, she calls at noon and says she's going home early! Awh! You are almost out of time to do everything now!!<br /><br />Get out of office; run around; order the flowers; run around; order the cake; run around; get the ribbon, confetti, balloons, candles ... almost there, run home.<br /><br />Plan, plan time efficiently, oh yeah.<br /><br />Mmm, you can't park the car in front of the house. She will see that something's not right. Get all the stuff out, take the car to some bylane and leave it there. <br /><br />Stitch and stick up the ribbons, one by one; Oh! only half an hour left.<br /><br />Balloons, oh, balloons ... after a few, your lungs are just not able to cope up with the will of the mind and you have to give up and say, enough! should be.<br /><br />Bring everything together, iPod for music, set up cake and candles ... stand there ... and wait, for footsteps outside the door.<br /><br />Oh almost forgot!! lock the door from inside with key and don't bolt it!! and yeah, remove the key from the hole ...<br /><br />and wait, for footsteps outside the door.<br /><br />A minute ... nothing happened .. a few minutes ... and then quite a large number of minutes .. nothing continued to happen .. mmmm ...<br /><br />Text her, say just checking whether you're home, I might also be able to come back early!<br /><br />Ayyo! She says she can leave only in the evening! <br /><br />Grrr!<br /><br />Now what, hmm .. put the cake back in the fridge .. stand around, sit down .. read something .. time seems to be going extermely slow, ah, curse general relativity and speed of light .. continue reading.<br /><br />After a large amount of text has been read, it would appear that time seems to have caught up ... <br /><br />wake up, wake up! .. now.<br /><br />Bring everything together, iPod for music, set up cake and candles ... stand there ... and wait, for footsteps outside the door.<br /><br />and then,<br /><br />You hear footsteps outside approaching the door. Languid, lazy setps. She has been moody through the whole day. The thud of a bag being put down on the parapet, riff raff noises of foraging inside it, mettalic rattle of a key.Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-87437351605455772352011-04-29T07:50:00.002+05:302011-04-29T07:53:26.438+05:30Touch Another Life ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MAysZmHRiHmiOatd47FkmbnMlOJOClu_AsDKTlrCVFY8VXwHIqP_vKzjp9EZ8MVLrP2dC4HPkdeBXgk1ouvl9ADE0iRhtbhyphenhyphen7HmL0V0wGos1Xpjy6UtUz-fy3t46xrAaGWdnD6Pxrgw/s800/TouchAnotherLife.JPG" alt="" style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0);" ><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Next time when a grass hopper accidentally flies into you and sits on your forearms, do not shriek and violently shake it away.<br /><br />Look at it.<br /><br />Look at its legs. Slender legs. Tiny horns on the legs. Legs, green and bent, moving at the will of the grass hoppers brain. Look at its antennae waving in the air, feeding its brain with a plethora of sensory inputs probably unfamiliar to you. Look at its compound eyes, a thousand tiny eyes, and the grass hopper looking into the world through the thousand of them. Look at its filmy wings, that gives it flight, so that it can move from one point to another without touching the earth.<br /><br />See how all these fit together into it, see it moving slowly on your skin; as a whole being.<br /><br />Its another life.Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-28962802780335732842011-04-07T08:37:00.010+05:302011-04-08T11:59:42.097+05:30The Universality of Logic ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Xte4wmsKRVkMsn5FJlqZdsksAV3fQ1pIthmnWJRZsPz1CspvyC4wBqtZ2mH_ojJh3Gwcb21kLlqeidrjkUJMstCsTY1JuqLLginXG-Rr-dpBDCBFbpM8Jrt7O0hSZfWB2Cgf_Ars4Nk/s800/UniversalityOfLogic.jpg" alt="" style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0);" ><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Stephen Hawking in his book, 'A Brief History of Time' writes,<br /><br />"Now, if you believe that the universe is not arbitrary, but is governed by definite laws, you ultimately have to combine the partial theories into a complete unified theory that will describe everything in the universe. But there is a fundamental paradox in the search for such a complete unified theory. The ideas about scientific theories outlined above assume we are rational beings who are free to observe the universe as we want and to draw logical deductions from what we see.<br /><br />In such a scheme it is reasonable to suppose that we might progress ever closer toward the laws that govern our universe. Yet if there really is a complete unified theory, it would also presumably determine our actions. And so the theory itself would determine the outcome of our search for it! And why should it determine that we come to the right conclusions from the evidence? Might it not equally well determine that we draw the wrong conclusion? Or no conclusion at all?<br /><br />The only answer that I can give to this problem is based on Darwin’s principle of natural selection. The idea is that in any population of self-reproducing organisms, there will be variations in the genetic material and upbringing that different individuals have. These differences will mean that some individuals are better able than others to draw the right conclusions about the world around them and to act accordingly. These individuals will be more likely to survive and reproduce and so their pattern of behavior and thought will come to dominate. It has certainly been true in the past that what we call intelligence and scientific discovery have conveyed a survival advantage. It is not so clear that this is still the case: our scientific discoveries may well destroy us all, and even if they don’t, a complete unified theory may not make much difference to our chances of survival. However, provided the universe has evolved in a regular way, we might expect that the reasoning abilities that natural selection has given us would be valid also in our search for a complete unified theory, and so would not lead us to the wrong conclusions."<br /><br />Richard Dawkins in his book, 'The Selfish Gene' gives a thorough analysis of the theory of evolution and how evolution functions to create better surviving organisms. He emphasizes the completely relative nature of evolution, and survival,<br /><br />"For example, a number of attributes are desirable in an efficient carnivore's body, among them sharp cutting teeth, the right kind of intestine for digesting meat, and many other things. An efficient herbivore, on the other hand, needs flat grinding teeth, and a much longer intestine with a different kind of digestive chemistry. In a herbivore gene pool, any new gene that conferred on its possessors sharp meat-eating teeth would not be very successful. <span style="font-style:italic;">This is not because meat-eating is universally a bad idea</span>, but because you can not efficiently eat meat unless you also have the right sort of intestine, and all the other attributes of a meat-eating way of life. <span style="font-style:italic;">Genes for a sharp, meat-eating teeth are not inherently bad genes. They are only bad genes in a gene pool that is dominated by genes for herbivorous qualities</span>."<br /><br />This leads to a question,<br /><br />Is the way of logic, which mostly is considered a universally applicable method of interpreting things, really universal and absolute?<br /><br />Can't it be just a product of evolution, evolved in accordance with the ways in which we sense our environment, so that it fits us, suitably, like the sharp cutting teeth in a carnivores body? Other possibly un-relatable logic can exist? and be good for survival? like flat grinding teeth, that look like an incredibly stupid way of approaching food, for us carnivores? <br /><br />Can nitrogen breathing alien organisms that sense the universe not through electro magnetic waves think that 1+1=3?<br /><br />... :-)<br /><table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-YFviOwYW-7KP3VG0ppAnYMPeIzw2zsrRUBl3IfVeKA8DAc5hfp3we0_r4Nzvehg_Umhgxcj9eUs1D3wOXB1JO_vr7NyHfn2YdfvIABxs9UyQbyusLsW4EppoeXZX-1kXKl682dnAZc/s800/MathsAtheist.gif" alt="" ></td></tr></tbody></table>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-27551984894444401672011-03-29T18:58:00.010+05:302011-03-30T13:57:42.581+05:30Brutal Lack of Love ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAPvm3kw6sdoAomg8Ikl6TnUELxShuc5nGpuDbJQGPx05_ELlxqoPvyVdnKEk2xELx0USsra4dOL_lh-wXtJosZfLICMud_a3XRQ_e1Sc1qj5QM8sMZT1UlOIjD-_BZeX6CMHYEaA-QqQ/s800/BrutalLackOfLove.JPG" alt="" style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0);" ><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />The backhoe excavator growled like a savage demon. It flexed its muscles. It extended the yellow girth of its trunk and shook it, dropping sticking mud and debris from past exertions. From its throbbing engines it let out dark black puffs of smoke occasionally. It rode on huge black tyres, crushing stone and grass beneath. <br /><br />Land trembled. The growling yellow demon rolled into the field scattered with bushes and pale grass. Great toe like projections extended from its underbelly. The machine sunk its toes firmly into the land and stood on them, raising itself.<br /><br />The pale grass bush rattled in the breeze, as if from the great fear evoked by the massive machine. The breeze kept on, trying in vain to calm everything down.<br /><br />The huge yellow machine extended its trunk, and brought it crushing down on the pale grass bush. <br /><br />A rock lying nearby splintered with a soft thud.<br /><br />The machine dug its large sharp teeth, on the trunk, deep into the red soil. It mercilessly and effortlessly uprooted the grass bush. It carelessly swept the carcass wide, and pushed it across.<br /><br />Great toe projections rolled back in. The machine thumped its yellow gnawing trunk hard into the ground, and stood on the backhoe trunk and the loader. It pulled itself yanking against the sunken trunk. It did not use its tyres. It swayed to the side and descended near the next pale grass bush; like a huge menacing mechanical spider.<br /><br />Again, its long yellow trunk started going up.<br /><br />The breeze kept on. But it could not help me from being hit hard by this,<br /><br />brutal lack of love.Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-83112565145545100102011-03-27T09:16:00.001+05:302011-03-27T09:18:17.359+05:30Soldiers Killing Each Other ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquw9g217YLEOo9Vh6HaCRjOICN_uUk2g-LNVhdiPkcMrQUH3CO2yAQXZ1VVRpZpMXuMuDU1suJodnlhvA4KfhyeWSfnQ8_JxM5Ck4zjWW8iRh7l3LKgKPyzQf3-iOlwstjixAHuu7z8c/s800/SoldiersKillingEachOther.gif" alt="" ><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="margin-left:8%"><br />... <br /></div>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-66370922815576063402011-03-23T09:09:00.003+05:302011-03-23T09:14:38.060+05:30The Surf ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKy5Sg8m5KeBnlG6X4CMcVK6wve6ckGjYDWOtJXLecV6Zrc1SGUS9C5N1K7DTpYeetO7Hs9o7ge-0TENWLQ-xzf2elIpbyyu-GShf4OV3EpXM4K_3Rez3EuRC1PyajP0LPiuCgNrSLDNs/s800/thesurf.jpg" alt="" style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0);" ><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />We walked, hand in hand, into the brightly lit sea, towards a warm genial sun, that was starting to set, slowly turning itself crimson red. <br /><br />We felt the sand, under our feet, soft and squishy, <br />We felt our toes, digging into the kindness of the sand,<br /><br />The sea scrubbed us, with her gentle waves,<br />Salting our lips at times, splashing her playful froth at us.<br /><br />We walked, deeper and deeper, into the surf,<br />The sea throbbed around us, giggling, laughing, gently rocking our bodies.<br /><br />And when we felt like looking, the sun beamed at us,<br />Now red, and orange, and red, and almost drowning into the embrace of the waves.<br /><br />The surf started from far, gently holding on to the hands of the wind,<br />shapeless at first, rolling, rising, creaking and gathering mass.<br />The wind pulled it on, the surf rose, like a newborn baby,<br />turned its head around and round, looked at the sun, in wonder.<br /><br />The surf rose, in a large column of throbbing sea,<br />rolling into us, from far, coming near, around us.<br />The surf towered in front us, drooping down,<br />It looked into our eyes, hands held together,<br />eyes, in awe and delight.<br /><br />The surf jumped down onto us, from the sky.<br />dwarfing our jumping bodies,<br />rolling us over with it, embracing us,<br />covering us with salt, and froth, and a blanket of sea.<br /><br />We fell, we kicked, we felt its fingers running,<br />across our bodies, its waves, throbbing our hearts,<br />We rolled, under the sea, as it pushed us.<br /><br />...<br /><br />The surf returned.<br />I looked at her.<br />She was smiling, scared and full of glee.<br />I looked at the sun.<br />He was smiling, kind and amused.Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-67817053504481929842011-03-07T08:21:00.008+05:302011-03-07T08:32:26.636+05:30The April Witch ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTiXB6Ii9xB2Cv-Ply-M2DTMvmGtKkLh8sSBDc0WWhoNnCMvU73zhGKJ7__QNustqgqeW5aNNiU8xOdNmjjdiksK3Zneed8XIocY1pj5_5IgerORaHDFtVaFco2Ru2jlOEGwzRPtZeVb8/s800/TheAprilWitch.jpg" alt="" style="border: 1px solid rgb(0,0,0); padding: 2px; background: rgb(0,0,0);"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="margin-left: 19.5%"><br />like the girl who twists and twists the swing ropes ... <br />to let go ... <br />and swirl and scream ...<br /></div>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-2343737999731966752011-02-28T19:46:00.009+05:302011-02-28T20:34:27.017+05:30The Totem ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhbGSCms3esX8W99AtwMNrsD1U9qSv68r7H51rzUu8MyMrDraJoKs0bYgrwzxujXCI2___yeMeIK5ZkE8R0jb6tmHZI9bDBe-mflfE58i-3LNOKq6ThLzRZBKRbhp3q4qtHnIohoBKEE/s800/husbandAndWife.gif" alt="" ><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Suppose you are fighting.<br /><br />At many a point in the fight, one party might feel: "Oh, God, this is all wrong! this is unnecessary, I want to stop this fighting!"<br /><br />And he blurts out a common place: "I'm sorry, lets talk this through?"<br /><br />But does it get through? No, it goes like: "What do you mean you are sorry?! you were supposed to ... "<br /><br />What is happening? The common place message does not have anything on it to differentiate it from the countless rigmarole that is being exchanged back and forth in the fight. The mundane sound packet carrying the message takes a direct hit on the now charged up firewalls of the Ego that is fighting and is destroyed to pieces before making an inch of progress into the Self hiding behind it.<br /><br />How to deal with this?<br /><br />Enter the 'code word of truce'. Which should be a minimal, quirky, absurd sounding word, that has nothing to do with being sorry, or fighting, or listening to each other. But it should be unique, to you, something you can feel, but others can't, something to help you get back to reality, which is the real you hiding, behind the fighting Ego.<br /><br />Like a <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1375666/">Totem</a>.<br /><br />'Open Sesame'.<br /><br />Now you know that when that word is uttered, all the charged up personal firewalls of the fighting Ego are supposed to let that sound packet through, unaltered, directly to the Self. The message means,<br /><br />"I'm dropping my fighting Ego. I'm ready to listen to you, the real you. Let's cancel the fight."<br /><br />And you are supposed to tell me what exactly you really felt or are feeling.<br /><br />And I'm supposed to listen to that, with 'brutal honesty'.<br /><br />It takes a certain level of conquest over the Ego to make this work :-)Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-11982994486848038512011-02-21T07:47:00.000+05:302011-02-21T07:48:38.641+05:30Importance of Reproducing ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgddaxpm7uUKgF1W3Qb300V_v_g5RzMV22mtkFf33RNnjFKtkIMl0kuuTSC8zZCOl2vwGJkbr7QDyl724E7qU93bgXVylJB2Hpaq7ZudwswIAwyowspoir_IyoM0nng36pEqRU6cMg2_D4/s800/ImportanceOfReproducing.gif" alt="" ><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="margin-left:8%"><br />... :-D<br /></div>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582674689625206602.post-83162163361370927512011-02-14T14:38:00.005+05:302011-02-14T14:53:12.360+05:30Dancing with the ...<table style="text-align: center; width: 100%;"><tbody><tr><td><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCcjmKAGArbWpDd_16-IJGCA0MOJg4GcQZs-7eBO0P_l9BZXhbX10eDOclSVbG7oFLgvygQctw2t6bcRpAbMgb7vUBrMWCWbWPgaLr6XtOH6ULYTFqb9JLcwpHl5NsB8EUaXFoe3QsiyQ/s800/dancingwiththe.png" alt="" style="border: 1px solid rgb(0, 0, 0); padding: 2px; background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% rgb(0, 0, 0);" width="640" /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="margin-left:33%"><br /> A soulmate is someone who<br /> has locks to fit our keys,<br /> and keys to fit our locks.<br /> When we feel safe enough to<br /> open the locks, our truest <br /> selves step out and we can<br /> be completely and honestly <br /> who we are; we can be loved<br /> for who we are and not for who <br /> we are pretending to be.<br /> Each unveils the best part <br /> of the other. No matter what<br /> else goes wrong around us,<br /> with that one person we're <br /> safe in our own paradise.<br /> When we are two balloons, and<br /> together our direction is up,<br /> chances are we've found <br /> the right person.<br /> Our soulmate is the one<br /> who makes life come to life.<br /><br /> -- Richard Bach<br /></div>Rajesh Kumar Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06246259610432352410noreply@blogger.com0