tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77740749572947854782024-03-19T10:23:26.572+05:30My world as I see it .. an attempt to see a mirror image of me and my world...
Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-36276048254512702562020-08-23T22:48:00.000+05:302020-08-23T22:48:34.515+05:30Ganesha <p> As a young child, I had a close connect with Ganesha. The first introduction to him was through my mridangam master, and my grandmother - both devoted followers of the deity.</p><p><br /></p><p>I was told Ganesha plays mridangam and I always liked to worship him before I started playing it. It was a routine and when done as a routine by a young 10 year old, it becomes a habit and then infatuation. My connection continued for a very long time before I started questioning it one day.</p><p><br /></p><p>I questioned which father would cut his son's head off. And for what reason? Ganesha's mother asked him to stay put and keep watch. He did exactly that. </p><p><br /></p><p>This is child abuse at many levels. First, imagine the plight of the poor kid with an elephant's head. He would be the butt of all jokes all his life. Second, What was the fault of the poor elephant that it had to lose its life for the rage of someone who was in a hurry? One of the 3 main gods makes a blunder and the solution leads to life long suffering for a child, an elephant and its family, none of who were at fault in any way.</p><p><br /></p><p>Even if it is only a myth, or a story, the message it sends is dangerous. Whichever angle one views it from, I can only see a chauvinistic man who couldnt bear the thought of a child stopping him and had no qualms in cutting his head off on that pretext.</p><p><br /></p><p>From a hard core Ganesha fan,</p><p>Happy Ganesh Chathurthi.</p>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-67403967004510320982019-05-14T11:49:00.000+05:302019-05-14T11:49:03.778+05:30Competition ? There is none <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have been reading about this " Competitive World" syndrome off-late. Hence this post.</div>
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Competition is handled by understanding you opponent, his/her strengths, weaknesses. You then understand your strength/weakness. Work on your strengths that can win over your opponent's weaknesses, and if you succeed to beat that, you win !</div>
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Whom are you competing with ? With the 7 lac kids who wrote the exam together ? How can you compete with them, not even knowing who they are ?</div>
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When it comes to a job, you can't compete either. You are selected based on a test, an interview. What stands out is only you, against the benchmark set for that role. There is no opponent there.</div>
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We have over years, craft-fully fallen prey to the whole gimmick of the invisible competitor , who in reality doesn't exist.</div>
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85% of the jobs that exist today will become obsolete in a decade. 70% of are not doing the jobs that we got educated for . What are you preparing your kids to compete against ?</div>
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High time we teach ourselves and our kids that the world is big enough for everyone to co-exist and win our own bread. It need not be competed, because the one you are fighting with in disguise of competition is yourself ! And you will never win that battle.</div>
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Let the kids enjoy their childhood, without fear. Let them learn from mistakes, Let them choose their path. Just be the guiding angels.</div>
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</div>
Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-63132506316293904422019-05-14T11:47:00.001+05:302019-05-14T11:47:32.507+05:30Alternative Education - A testimonial <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This is not a testimonial for a school, this one is for a philosophy.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
I have been a fan of alternative education for long, and both my kids go to such a school. One common concern I have heard from parents against alternative education is that, the kids are not able to score marks. Though this has never concerned me or most of us who believed in the concept, Im happy that this time around, with personal experience, even that myth is busted. Children from the alternative space<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;">s have scored in excess of 97% and are at par with any conventional school where the only focus is academics.</span></div>
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So what have my kids done along with academics..</div>
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- They spend time preserving a lake<br />- They went for study tours , to far away villages, traveled in public transport, lived in minimal facilities, worked with the villagers, ate their food, and realised life is not as glossy as it sounds<br />- They learned that humility is the first lesson in life ,when they saw their aayas and sweeper ammas, light the lamp at their arts and sports meet<br />- The PTM meetings never discussed marks, we discussed children, their learning, their experiences, and their way of life.<br />- They learnt competition is not the way to survive, collaboration is ( As i write this they are not bothered who scored how much, who is the first in class etc etc )<br />- They are more than happy that the school is not even putting up their marks on display, let alone the pictures of their toppers all over social and print media<br />- They were calm and composed before and after the exams. We spend quality time watching a movie, or reading a book, or having an ice cream, and did not panic that exam is the next day.<br />- They had fun, and they also wrote their exams and came out in flying colors. It was just another day for them.</div>
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To all who still have worries on alternative education vs conventional, this is my answer .</div>
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And again, alternative is not for all . Each kid is different , each school is different. Choose what suits your kid, and not what suited you, your neighbor or your colleague !</div>
</div>
</div>
Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-67142112199382391792016-04-26T10:59:00.000+05:302016-04-26T11:00:20.374+05:30The lost fragrances <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It rained in Bangalore. After long days of record breaking heat,
the rain will bring some relief. I did not realise that it rained, till late.
The first rain, to me, always was associated with the fragrance of the soil.
Like lightning that precedes the thunder, this fragrance hits me before the
rain does. It is missing and I wondered where it had gone. Like everything else
in today’s digital world, I let my virtual friends in Facebook know of my
predicament and drove towards home. </div>
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As I drove, I recollected that there were three distinct
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three of them together. It was fresh, it was unique and it was still on the tip
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The soil was the first one. It had such an enchanting smell.
As the first rain drops would fall, some amazing chemical locha works and the
fragrance surrounds the place. As the rain poured on, the puddles of water on
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I stopped over in a fruit stall. I wanted to buy some
mangoes. They used to give me the second distinct fragrance. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would go to my Dads house during holidays,
and as I remember there were twelve different varieties of mangoes there. Dad
would tell us stories of him planting most of those saplings. As we would get
down from his scooter, I would be in the mystic world of the smell of the
mangoes. Each one had a distinct smell, but I had a favourite. I would run to climb
the tree and smell the mango from the tree, as it swayed in the wind, for me to
pluck and taste it. I smelled the mango in the fruit stall, and I felt I was in
my chemistry lab. Seeing my upset face, the shopkeeper tried convincing me, “sir,
organic mangoes will come tomorrow”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
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I turned around to walk out, and saw my third favourite
fragrance right in the corner. Books!!! I took one from the shelf, opened it
and took a deep breath. Goodness!! They still smell the same, well almost!! We
would go to the small bookstall opposite to the temple in Palghat town. We
would get to buy children’s comics. The bookstall had the fragrance of the
freshly opened books and it still lingers. I bought a book and walked out
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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As I tried to sleep, I felt a new smell. It was the Iblur Lake
stinking after the first rain. I sprayed the room freshener and went to sleep.
The fragrances were lost. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-71229619871907474252016-04-21T14:48:00.000+05:302016-04-21T14:48:29.716+05:30A Tribute to Motherhood<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<em><b><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">This is for all the fathers and
mothers to be, for you to appreciate the true beauty and warmth of a new baby
coming into this world, and a true appreciation of the motherhood.</span></b></em></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">It was a culmination of 37 weeks of excitement,
pain and restlessness. Kavitha got admitted on 4th Sept 2008, at 0630 am in Apollo
hospital, Bangalore..During
her last delivery, we had a traumatic experience of a normal delivery getting
converted in to a C section after Ammu’s head came out. So we were prepared for
a C section from day one. The delivery was postponed to 1030 am as some
emergency cases had come up. The wait outside the labor room is painful. I
managed to go in and check on Kavitha few times, as Ammu got close to the
nurses . The doctor came and said, that she
is being shifted to the Operation Theatre at 1st floor, and we accompanied her.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="apple-style-span">I went in to meet the doctor, and asked her, if I can join Kavi in the Labor
room. She wanted me to be very sure, and checked if I’m comfortable with seeing
blood and the procedure as such. Seeing my confidence, she agreed and sent me
to the change room. My Mom wasn’t aware that I’m going in. I went in then change room, and a
technician explained me what I’m supposed to do. I then realized, why the
doctor was reconfirming. In the previous surgery, the husband had a panic attack on seeing blood and had fainted in the
Operation theatre . I was asked to wait , as they prepared her for the surgery .
The technician told me that the monitors are being installed and then she would
be given a local anesthesia.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">When
Kavi had conceived, her blood tests had revealed Toxoplasma infection. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toxoplasmosis) . Almost
all such cases are aborted. We were informed about the risks involved in the
pregnancy and for the new born, if we go ahead with the delivery. We went
through every possible journal and paper on toxoplasmosis and consulted with
friends who were doctors and experts in the area. We had taken a brave and
risky call to go ahead with the pregnancy. We had made up our mind to face what
comes. The risks involved having a baby with serious medical conditions
including deformity and sensory issues. All this was running through my mind as
I waited. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">I was called into the labor room after few
minutes, and the doctors had started the procedure. I was made to sit beside
Kavitha, and a screen was put to conceal the surgery. I held on to her hand and
sat there. I could see through the screen as the lights on the other side were
bright. I could see doctor cutting open the wound and I knew it’s anytime now.
Kavi was calm and I think my presence was a surprising reassurance for her too.
The doctor told us that when the baby is to be taken out, they would be pushing
her stomach hard, to push the baby out. After a minute they asked me to stand
up, and I saw the amazing site of my baby’s head coming out of Kavi. They
pushed and in a flash the baby was out. The doctor said, “ It’s a Boy “ … Kavi
squeezed my hand in rejoice. I almost had a tear down my eye. The doctor cut
the placenta and showed me the baby.A nurse took the baby and asked me to
follow him. We went into another room, and he started cleaning the baby up. The
pediatrician joined him. He put a tube in the baby’s nostrils and squeezed out
some fluid with a syringe. Once they cleaned him they wrapped him in a towel.
The pediatrician looked at me and gave me a thumbs up. He knew about the
toxoplasmosis history. He was there to examine the child and ensure he was free
of any complication. His thumbs up relieved me of the last straw of doubt. We
had a healthy baby. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">We
took him back to the labor room. He showed the baby to Kavi and she gave him
the first kiss.I told her that the baby is healthy .I went back, changed and ran to give the news to my Mom, her mom
and Ammu who were waiting outside. My respect for mother hood had grown many folds.
I urge all would be fathers to join your spouse and see this amazing heart
touching sight. I urge all would be mothers to ensure your spouse joins you.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<strong><i><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">This is one day of your life, you will remember for
ever.</span></i></strong><span class="apple-converted-space"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"> A true tribute to motherhood.</span></i></b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US"></span></b></div>
</div>
Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-18368681812653790642016-04-04T00:30:00.002+05:302016-04-04T00:30:27.841+05:30Powercut<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
The power cut at middle of night,<br />
Brings the beauty of noise.<br />
No sound from the air conditioner,<br />
No screech from the fan,<br />
The fridge is silent,<br />
So is the television.<br />
Its all you and your inner voice,<br />
With karaoke from an outer world,<br />
You can't define.<br />
Peace</div>
Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-38984157742003758922016-03-15T10:57:00.000+05:302016-03-15T10:58:35.372+05:30A teenager is born today<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">13 years back, in a dimly lit hospital corridor, a tensed up
expecting dad walks his paces up and down. His wife has been in labour for more
than twelve hours. The doctor hasn’t come yet and there is no word from the nurses
on when he is expected. This doctor is the final word in gynaecology in that
town, so all he could do was to wait. All of a sudden there is activity around
the labour room, the delivery has started and the doctor is on his way. He
reaches, and goes swiftly in without talking to anyone. News comes out that the
baby’s head is out, but since the mother is tired, they are trying the suction
now. Suddenly the doctor rushes out, and tells the waiting man, that it has to
be a caesarean now, shift her to the operation theatre immediately. Even
through the utter disbelief and shock, he didn’t realise that he was about to
go through the most nerve racking few minutes of his life. There was no
attendant to move her to the operation theatre, so he and her cousins carried
the stretcher, with a semi conscious expecting mother in it. The biggest shock
was yet to come, the elevator of the popular hotel- turned hospital would not
fit the stretcher. They can’t move her in the wheelchair with the baby’s head
almost out. All they could do was run and hope they do not tumble, and make her
fall. They ran up 3 floors through the narrow staircase and moved her into the
operation theatre. There was anger despair and absolute helplessness. As they
gasped for air, the news came that a baby girl was born. I and Kavitha were
thus blessed with our baby girl Anandita. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Today as I remember those tense moments where we almost lost
our baby due to sheer non-competence, I have no anger. I realise today that we
have a fighter of a daughter, who would make her mark one day, fighting her way
up, as she did on that night. It makes her even special, and everything she
achieves on her grit and will, makes me feel special to be her dad. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Today, she turns a teenager, the next phase of her life. Yes, I miss her childhood, I miss her running
up my arms as I would reach home, I miss her sleeping on my chest, I miss her
crawling up to be cuddled on my tummy, I miss feeding her, I miss bathing her, I miss carrying
her in the middle of the night when she would refuse to sleep, I miss playing
insane childish games at two in the morning, I miss rushing back to home in the
mid of a work day when she refuses to go back home without me, I miss myself
crying when she would fall sick, I miss my baby . I realise, I may never be
able to do any of that with her again. Because, today she is a teenager.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Girls grow up differently, and I wonder why they grow up so
fast. Today she tells us to be mature, expects us to have more realistic
discussions with her. She writes her blogs about parenting. And I think, I have
not grown up beyond that nervous man outside the dimly lit hospital corridor,
but she has grown, and will continue to. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Happy Birthday to my teenage sweetheart. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Happy Birthday Ammu. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OqS6NGo9k1c/VuedAG_pj-I/AAAAAAAAPqk/Qi9lA3a49GoxStI09dxtQRanucK0Vkhrg/s1600/ammu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OqS6NGo9k1c/VuedAG_pj-I/AAAAAAAAPqk/Qi9lA3a49GoxStI09dxtQRanucK0Vkhrg/s320/ammu.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-37250466296114464962015-11-25T09:13:00.000+05:302015-11-25T09:13:34.849+05:30Aamir’s wife, Col Mahadik and the Tolerance meter !!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; line-height: 115%;">Aamir Khan tweeted that his
wife is scared for her kids safety seeing the levels of intolerance in this
country and wanted to move out. It's her view and has all rights to say so.</span>
Since then they have been targeted by the religious, nationalist and tolerant
hypocrites all over. Some comments are pure insane but some are sheer abusive.
One has the freedom to express their views in this country and no one has the
rights to abuse them for that. There has even been a PIL filed against him (?).
The saddest part is the comparison with Martyr Col Mahadik’s wife’s comments on
her kids being committed for a career in army vs Aamir’s wife’s comments. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; line-height: 115%;">I have huge respect for
Col Mahadik and his family.I have friends who are in border fighting the same
bastards who martyred him. But it’s totally wrong to compare Col Mahadik with Aamir.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; line-height: 115%;">Our hero concepts are
wrong. How many times have we discussed martyrs here?? Who was Aamir’s wife
till yesterday? A nobody!! But we have enough TV time, Print space and social
media activism to dissect and discuss what she said probably in a bedroom
conversation to her husband.</span> We will forget and move on, when another
nobody makes another remark, but we still won’t have time to discuss the real
heroes; the guys who fight the real enemies at minus 60 degree temperature to
give you and me the freedom to sit , sip a coffee and do this armchair activism.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Who is the most worried about Aamir and
family wanting to go out of India? Not the people who live here, but those who
left this country for what-so-ever reasons to make a life out of India. The NRI’s.
They are all over the place slamming Aamir. Why did they move out of India if
the love for the country paramount for them? He is the hypocrite who comes out
after taking the oath as an American citizen and spills his anger all over
Aamir and family for them wanting to move out of India.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">Is there intolerance??
Yes there is. When a set of people decide what one should eat, say or live in,
that is intolerance. What our tolerant folks are showering on Aamir family is intolerance.
There are comments like, Go to Syria and join “their people" in Isis. They
don’t even realize she is a practicing Hindu</span>. What Aamir and his
wife practice in their home is tolerance, towards another person, and their
beliefs. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Is it religious against Aamir?
I think so!! The same hindutwa forces wanted Sanjay Dutt to be released on
humanitarian grounds.. No one asked him to be deported to Pakistan. Aamir or
his wife has not done a bigger crime than Sanjay Dutt. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Yes we are intolerant and
our meters have hit a new low. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On another note, though I
understand the sentiments and the emotional outburst of Col Mahadik’s wife, and
totally sympathise with her, I think it's wrong on her part to commit her kids
to army careers. It is wrong to put that pressure in any kid for any career for
that matter. They should grow up and decide if they want to become a commando
or chef.</span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-84345923180226861132015-03-14T01:24:00.001+05:302015-03-14T01:24:49.011+05:30Totally Beefed up<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
The whole comedy surrounding the beef ban took me many years back. 1996 to be precise. </div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Myself and my cousin brother had recently moved into Bangalore city. For some time we stayed with his sister,and then moved into a house of on our own. It cant be called a house. It was rather a room built on the terrace of a commercial complex. But, we had enough time in our hands especially over the weekends. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
One such crazy weekend, we decided to cook beef. We had no clue how to !. We went to Yeshwantpur and bought couple of kilos of beef. Yes, 2 kg for two of us. What were we thinking ? Only Gomatha knows !! Now that we had the beef, it had to be sipped down. So we bought some spirit.a bottle of rum.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
How do you cook 2 kgs of beef ? My bro seemed to know. So in went the beef into a pressure cooker. He told me it cooks slow. So slow it was!! . The rum was vanishing as the pressure cooker kept whistling tirelessly. Beef wasnt getting cooked it seems ! And we were running out of patience and rum. The latter being a tougher commodity to replace. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My cousin took out the beef from the cooker finally. A tawa replaces the cooker. Various masala powders get sprinkled generously and the beef is getting prepared well ,for our taste buds to feast. After a while, probably when he got bored stirring it endlessly, my cousin takes some out into a plate and serves our first ever self cooked starter. We both have a piece each. I chew it to what seemed like eternity, and after gulping it down with a generous doze of rum, I look at my cousin. He was trying to come in terms with his beef adventure himself. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After an hour, the only progress was aching jaw bones and heavily sloshed head. Two kg of beef was still staring at us. I felt it was ridiculing me, or may be I was in fact drunk. We kept our egos in the pressure cooker and proceeded with a huge vessel full of beef to our sister's house. She took one look at our culinary production. I don't remember if she laughed or cried. It wouldn't have made a difference, anyways.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
She took the beef into her kitchen and in half hour came with a remixed version of our very own original preparation. Needless to say, that smelled eatable. We realized why we should not have experimented so much. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We all feasted for a week on beef. Yes, a whole week !! That officially is the last time I bought beef. We had so much of beef that it took the excitement of craving for beef away. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Now that someone wants to ban it, it might be enough reason for the crave to be back. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Now, I'm Ready to be beefed up again. </div>
</div>
Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-59618362319341246722012-10-09T13:03:00.000+05:302012-10-09T13:05:40.897+05:30The Justice about Injustice - Aruna Shanbaug and Sohanlal Walmiki <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm not sure if this is Justice about Injustice or if it is Injustice about Justice ... </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD76lxbAOl4T5Lcq14HBTzPTv-fQPrUpZZGwV4ov_BrLYlRBkBOtjOTeA8Ji63W4S8FkwakPGGpt0H_70aJVnOX5qeq065hA1B5_bYfTqhKmkHFtVp5vAgcpZMaFJHNDdX96zqBkS1qZE/s1600/aruna+then+n+now.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD76lxbAOl4T5Lcq14HBTzPTv-fQPrUpZZGwV4ov_BrLYlRBkBOtjOTeA8Ji63W4S8FkwakPGGpt0H_70aJVnOX5qeq065hA1B5_bYfTqhKmkHFtVp5vAgcpZMaFJHNDdX96zqBkS1qZE/s320/aruna+then+n+now.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was
surfing channels the other day when I heard this name again “ Aruna Shanbaug”
and I ended up tuning into a debate on Euthanasia. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes, I do
have my strong opinion that Euthanasia should be made legal, and a person like
Aruna is the most deserving case of humanity through mercy killing. But this is
not about Aruna. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-US">This is
about </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki. He is the sole reason that
a young nurse, has been left to live a life of pain for the last 39 years. Many would have read about her, for those who
have not, this is what happened. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Aruna was 25 year old nurse working at the King Edward
hospital in Mumbai. On 29<sup>th</sup> November, 1973, while she was changing
after her shift, she was sexually assaulted by a ward boy of the same hospital
named Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki. He choked her with a dog chain and then
proceeded to rape her. On realising that she was in her menstrual cycle, he
changed the plan and instead sodomized her. He left her bleeding, after robbing
her of her jewellery and watch. <span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">She lay there
undetected till the early hours of the next morning when the morning shift
started.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">The asphyxiation cut off oxygen supply to her
brain, resulting in brain stem contusion injury and cervical cord injury apart
from leaving her cortically blind. She was bereft of the power of speech and
expression. She lost the ability to control her muscles, use her limbs and
worse, lost her memory. In other words, clinically she became brain dead!<span class="apple-converted-space">.</span> </span>Now Aruna is permanently
bed-ridden, curled up in an awkward foetal position for the last 39 years ! !. <span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Her friends approached the Supreme Court of India with an
appeal for mercy killing or Euthanasia. </span>The three-member
medical committee set up under the Supreme Court's directive, checked upon
Aruna and concluded that she met "most of the criteria of being in a
permanent vegetative state". But the Supreme Court rejected a plea for Euthanasia,
and she continues to EXIST. <span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now what about the man who did this to her ?. Sohanlal
Bhartha Walmiki was sentenced to 7 years in jail. His charges ? Robbery and
attempt to murder. <span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">The police had registered a case of robbery and
attempted murder, and not rape. The case of anal rape was kept concealed under
the instructions of the Dean of KEM, Dr. Deshpande.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He walked out of prison and is believed to have started life
fresh in some part of the country, with a new identity. Ironically it seems he
is a ward boy in some hospital. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Is that the price one pays for putting a hapless victim
through endless suffering for the last 39 years? A mere 7 years of state
hospitality? Who pays for the sufferings of a young nurse who was to get
married soon? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The same law which denied her euthanasia plea, forces her to
live through the pain till she dies naturally. The same law also provides for
Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki to walk out scot free, after 7 years, get a job and
new life and total freedom. Added it has given him complete anonymity. You
cannot even trace him down, no images, and no whereabouts whatsoever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If this is justice, what is termed as injustice? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<i><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">PS : Sources/credits : Data & Images from google search and
other sites. I have consolidated the information, and have tried my best to
check its authenticity. But I request the reader to use your best judgement.</span></i><i><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
</div>
Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-22233288617438106002012-09-24T19:29:00.000+05:302012-09-24T19:29:52.551+05:30An Auto ride in Bangalore- An unusual one <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bangalore
is known for its unfriendly and rude auto drivers. I was not expecting anything
different that evening, as I was forced to take an auto rickshaw since my car
was given on service. It was drizzling a bit and the auto drivers were
unrelenting to take me to my destination. Some 10-12 autos later, an auto
driver stopped and agreed to take me. Surprisingly he did not even ask for the
Rs20 over the meter they usually ask. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A few
minutes into the drive, I could sense that the driver is kind of lost. He was
wiping his tears probably, I was not sure. He took a wrong turn and I told him
that. He came back to his senses and said, sorry. I asked him if he was ok. He
didn’t say anything for a while and then told me that he has been running
around since early morning and hence was a little tensed up. I asked him what happened!
His wife was admitted in the hospital for delivery, and the doctor has asked
him to arrange for blood and more money as it would be a caesarian. He is out to make some extra money than sitting
in the hospital. Moreover, his sister, whom he was taking care of even after
her marriage, refused to help him financially, even though she had money with
her. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I kept
listening to him, as he opened up more. His elder daughter was in school, and
she studies well. She wants be a doctor. He was afraid, if he would be able to
teach her well. His dad died when he was a young boy, and he has been an auto
driver ever since. His mom was diagnosed with cancer, and he had to spend all
his earnings on her treatment. He had met with an accident few years back and
his right leg was shattered. He cannot sit in one place for more than few
hours. So driving the auto is also a challenge. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At one
stage he asked me, why someone like him is tested every day of his life. I
asked him, when he had the accident, did he wish to live or not. He said, every
second, I wanted to live as his daughter was waiting for him. I told him that
it is the reason he should be happily living. Think of the day, your kid will
become a doctor and how would you feel about it. Your second kid, who will be
born today, will also make you proud. Is it not enough reason to live? We spoke
more and more.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> As I was reaching my home, he turned back and
asked me “mai ek gaana gaa saktha hum sir”? I said, “ tumhara auto hai, mast
gaao” . He had an amazing voice and he started humming “Mai zindagi ka saath
nibhatha chala gaya”. I joined him. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At no point
of time he asked me for money or even gave me a hint that he was expecting a
favor from me. All he did was talk to me all the way though the 40 minute
journey. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I got
down from the auto, I paid him some money. I told him, I don’t know how much is
in the meter, and this is not a favor I’m doing. I want you to buy some sweets
with the extra money and give it to your daughter, and tell her that she should
study well and you will make her a doctor. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He got out
of the auto. He was crying. He hugged me and cried more. He said, “Bhai, this
is not for the money. Thank You for talking to me. Had I not met you and taken
another passenger, I would have probably come under a bus or truck today. I'm going back to the hospital, Jo Hoga Dekha
jaayega”. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So many of
my neighbors were staring at me with disbelief ! But I felt at peace and I
walked back still humming “ barbaadiyon ka shok manana fizul tha, barbaadiyon
ka jashan manatha chala gaya…. Mai zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya “…</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-49341487843909876422012-09-10T14:17:00.001+05:302012-09-10T14:17:43.880+05:30sHappy pOnam <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The poet
who wrote “ Maveli Naadu vaaneedum kaalam, Maanusharellarum onnu Pole”, would
not have thought that, his description would come true in today’s Kerala.
Surprised ? Look no further, its your friendly neighborhood BEVCO counter. No
caste, No creed, No rich-Poor, No matter it rains or shines, No divide
what-so-ever. We the proud ‘Prajaas” of Lord Mahabali, wait patiently for our
turn obediently. We may fight for a movie ticket; we may even fight at a temple
entrance to get in first. But in the Bevco queue, all such egos get subdued.
And then they say, mallus are ego-centric?? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">As we
welcome Onam, the common man replaces the O in OCR, OPR and OMR with Onam.
Instead of Happy Onam, he finds a kick in wishing each and every one: “ sHappy
pOnam” . <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">This Onam
again, the race is not about who does the largest Pookalam. The keenly awaited
race is if Chalakudy Bevco would beat Irinjalakuda and Karunagapally to retain
the championship for the highest sales in a Bevco counter, and then again,
there is nothing official about it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">No matter
Spain, which has just about the same population as Kerala won the football world
cup, we beat them hands down by gulping in more liquor to celebrate their
victory. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Isn’t it
surprising that for such an awakened population, who can actively support a hartal
in the drop of a hat, we never had a hartal to protest against the innumerable
and unjustified hikes in alcohol rates? So what if we cannot have a hartal, we
protest by drinking in an additional peg to wash out our ill-feelings about the
sadist government. That’s our spirit! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Our per-capita
consumption of alcohol is more than 8 liters. Some say, if Kerala was a
country, we would figure in the Top-10 drunken countries in the world.
Malayalis are fighters, and they very soon will beat the likes of France and Czech
to the 1<sup>st</sup> place there also. Which other population contributes 40% of its
state revenue by drinking their livers out? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">But again,
think of this. The poor Malayali has to manage these records by compensating
for all the holidays BEVCO has, including 1<sup>st</sup> of every month for
stock taking, Republic day to Independence Day, The death anniversary and
birthday of anyone who was someone and the numerous Hartals which we celebrate
as our state festival.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">As someone asked, should we not celebrate Independence Day
by raising a toast than being made to sit dry? Food or rather Drink for thought may be? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Cheers and Happy
Onam to all Malayalis, oh sorry “sHAPPY pONAM” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-35455032064969511582011-05-27T19:18:00.002+05:302012-10-09T13:12:34.299+05:30Me and Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7p5OIrvmRhc/Td-rw_Oek9I/AAAAAAAAHQY/gjGOThvntUk/s1600/Alarm-Clock.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611392518821155794" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7p5OIrvmRhc/Td-rw_Oek9I/AAAAAAAAHQY/gjGOThvntUk/s320/Alarm-Clock.gif" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 299px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">The Alarm rang again... I need a way to permanently shut him down.... for ever ,I mean.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span>I never wore a watch, cos it reminds me of time. Nor did i ever keep a clock at home. I never liked time anyways. I would wake up when i woke up and sleep when i slept.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span>Why is my life time bound I thought. I slept late everyday, a late night movie after my daily quota of whiskey or whiskeys on the rocks.<br />
The party went for long . Dont remember who dropped me, but someone would have. They had to be back in time, unlike me. Who ever dropped me, I thank you .<br />
Oh yes, yeah,,, I do work .<br />
<br />
I chase time lines, or do time lines chase me? I'm not sure.<br />
<br /></span><span style="background-color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, , Im waking up ............cos the alarm is still ringing.</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">
<br /></div>
</span></div>
Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-35640480893537997402011-04-23T21:20:00.005+05:302011-04-23T21:34:50.194+05:30One of those daysThen there are those days, when you start off in the worst possible way possible. When things looks the worst and the day looks bleak. You desperately want to get out in the open , wish the wind blows the freshness on your face and you be with the one you want to be with... <div><br /></div><div>Few days happen that way. They normally start bad and end bad. And then you try to crash into the bed cursing yourself on an absolute screwed up day.</div><div><br /></div><div>What can you say of a day that started bad, and absolutely miserable as today , and ended up being one of the days you want to remember for a long long time.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had such a day, and as of now i'm enjoying the savories, i know how lucky I am. </div><div><br /></div><div>Let me crash into the bed with a smile :) </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-40729187578932448292010-12-03T11:21:00.003+05:302010-12-03T11:26:58.014+05:30Humiliation: The Teachers way: Why do they do this?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/TPiGQGRrgNI/AAAAAAAAGh0/oP_OuetnRaw/s1600/achu.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/TPiGQGRrgNI/AAAAAAAAGh0/oP_OuetnRaw/s320/achu.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546330552227561682" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'; font-size: 15px; ">I was driving the other day through outskirts of <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Bangalore</st1:city></st1:place>. I happened to see a school, a very mediocre one, compared to the high end <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Bangalore</st1:city></st1:place> schools. In the verandah I saw a kid, kneeling on the ground. He for sure was ousted from the class and made to stand out, probably a punishment for a “gross crime” he has committed. I could not stand the sight and felt really furious. The thought of a tiny kid being humiliated in front of a whole school and passing public made me very restless.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic"">I was an average kid all through my childhood. Schooling wasn’t something I liked, though I never hated it. That was till my 4<sup>th</sup> standard. I don’t remember what was the sin I did, but for some apparent reason I was punished and then taken to the headmistress (HM) one day. I remember panicking as I was being made to walk like a criminal to the judge. I was caned by the HM and then I was taken back to the class. The whole of that day I was made to stand outside my class room. I would sit down when my legs would tire, and when I heard the teacher or any passerby coming close, I would stand up again. I do remember having wept a lot that day. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic"">The next day I went inside my class and sat as usual. The teacher came during the second period, and seeing me in the class got infuriated. She took me to the HM again, and this time I was made to stand outside the HM’s room. Three humiliating days were to follow. I stood there the whole day, and had to go in and ask permission to go to the loo during the break. She would nod, not even looking up at me. Other kids would walk past and laugh at me standing there, few made fun of me, and few sympathized with me. But I was a laughing stock for all to see. Some parents who came into the school would come and ask me what happened, and I would sob seeing them. By evening, I felt like garbage, not even wanting to go back home. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic"">I did not know what to do the next day, so I went kept the bag in the class and went to the staff room to ask my teacher. Thinking of it now, I feel, she thought I was sarcastic or maybe I was showing attitude, what ever it may be, she got furious and asked me to stand in front of the HM’s room. Surprisingly, I did not feel bad, nor did I cry. I remember telling one senior that, I have been made the watchman for the HM. I would see kids being brought in like sheep to the butcher. There was fear in their eyes as they would go in, then they would be caned and they would go out crying. We would exchange looks as if to say, I understand buddy!! Later that day, a senior came with a box of sweets. She distributed it inside the office and then gave to HM. On the way out, she came to me, and offered me one. I heard the HM shouting from inside, “not to him”. I was a culprit who wasn’t eligible for any pleasures. I had started hating the HM and the school as such by then. There was some rage inside me that was burning. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic"">Day Three, I didn’t even go to the class. I don’t know what had transpired in me, but I went straight to the HM’s room and stood outside with my bag kept beside me. I started wishing all the teachers who would pass by with a smile. I sat there and ate my lunch. During the break I would have kids around me, watching me, as if I was a joker out of a circus tent. I wished I could vanish. I wished I fell so ill that someone would take me away and I could hide. Nothing happened. I was humiliated more and felt more depressed. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic"">Though I changed to a new school next year, those four days had a major impact on me. I fell so low on my self confidence. I did not want to go to school anymore. I didn’t want to see any of my friends. I stopped looking at schoolmates, was worried that they may be laughing at me. I started running away from everything.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""> This may have happened to many, and so many would have brushed it aside and not let it affect them. But it affected me to no ends, and continued harassing me till my tenth, when I finally could move on. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Century Gothic"">I still don’t know what they were trying to achieve by doing that to me. Whatever it was, all they managed to do ,was to kill the self respect of a student and make him feel rotten. I have never been able to pardon them for what they have done to me, and I won’t ever. I hate them from the core of my heart and wish no kid goes through this again. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-65772875471192217122010-08-09T09:57:00.002+05:302010-08-09T09:59:07.849+05:30Its a good day<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">When the sun is up,<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">As the day gets bright</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">So am I up<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">In all my might</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">Its easy to give up<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">Its easy to lose it</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">But, I'm a fighter <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">And I cant lose it</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">All I need is you<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">To hold me to you</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">When I reach there<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">I won’t be alone</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">You’ll take me there<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">As with me, you have flown</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">As I wish myself a good day<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';font-size:11;">I know its going to be our day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-4761046230510381322010-08-09T09:39:00.000+05:302010-08-09T09:40:45.121+05:30Im sorry- For I took it away<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><a name="OLE_LINK2"></a><a name="OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">I'm Sorry <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></a></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">For this is a personal apology<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">You shared it all with me, <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">You shared your mind, soul, heart <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">You let me touch you, hold you, cuddle you<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">Never did you say a no to me, <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">Never let me down when I needed you<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">You let me take your most priced possession, <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">I took it away from you<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">You let me share your body with me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">I let you down; I made you feel losing your self respect<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">I deserve no sympathy, cos I failed you again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">What I have for you is pure, and what I'm losing is the purest<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">If no one sees me again, it’s not cos you hate me<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">It is cos, I hate myself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK1"><span style="mso-bookmark: OLE_LINK2"><span style="font-family:Century Gothic;font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; FONT-SIZE: 11pt">I'm sorry <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-64808427702286294652010-06-08T16:05:00.000+05:302010-06-08T16:06:42.003+05:30My Dream : from aashiana<h3 style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white"><a name="8681431891856634133"></a><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Helvetica; COLOR: #555555"><a href="http://myaashiana.blogspot.com/2009/10/my-dream.html"><span style="color:#999988;">My dream</span></a> <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></h3><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">I sit overlooking the cliff<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">Not even realizing the Breeze</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">When i look down and see the waves<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">I realize the vastness ahead is empty </span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">Is there an angel who would appear<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">To lend a shoulder to disappear</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">I dont want to hide from the world<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">All i need is a chest to bury my head </span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">The feel of being owned<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">The feel of being cared</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">The touch of reaffirming<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">The warmth of belonging</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">As she appears from the far side<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">I'm not sure if she is going to be aside</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">I don’t even know, if she is coming for me<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">Or if she also would walk past me</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">She comes close, her hair brushing my face<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">I know the smell of her perfume </span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">She isn’t an angel,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">She is for real</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">She holds my face<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">Looks at my eyes</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">Is there a drop of tear<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">Both of us may drop</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">Holding my face close to her<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">She whispers my name in my ear</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">I'm so light <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">She holds me tight</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">I look up to see her face<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">Is that the one I miss ?</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">A scream shatters the peace<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">Reality always bites</span><span style="COLOR: #555555"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">Woken up from my sleep<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: 21.6pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; BACKGROUND: white" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Georgia; COLOR: #555555">My day begins again<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></o:p></p>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-39125396499847868712010-02-17T15:26:00.006+05:302010-02-17T15:48:37.924+05:30Chalna hai mujhe<div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/S3vAnhyxP5I/AAAAAAAAEOI/ol3OAvi70S8/s1600-h/100_4769.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 479px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 326px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439152760298749842" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/S3vAnhyxP5I/AAAAAAAAEOI/ol3OAvi70S8/s320/100_4769.JPG" /></a><strong><span style="font-family:Tahoma;">Its easy to Give up..</span></strong><br /><br /><div><br /></div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><b><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >Its easy to Wipe out.. </span></b></span></p><div><br /></div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><b><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >Its easy to Vanish... </span></b></span></p><div><br /></div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><b><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >Its easy to Perish...</span></b></span></p><div><br /></div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><b><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >Just that I cant... </span></b></span></p><div><br /></div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><b><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >Cos Im ME...</span></b></span><br /><br /></p><div><br /></div><p align="justify"></p><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><br /><span class="uistorymessage"><b><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></b></span><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/S3vBPnO1XaI/AAAAAAAAEOQ/YGx6g3a0l7E/s1600-h/IMG_0845.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 434px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 282px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439153448953404834" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/S3vBPnO1XaI/AAAAAAAAEOQ/YGx6g3a0l7E/s320/IMG_0845.JPG" /></a><br /></p></div><div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"><strong><span style="font-family:Tahoma;">Chalna hai bahut mujhe<span class="uistorymessage"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN" lang="EN">, </span></span><br /></p></span></strong><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><strong>lekin aaj nahi...</strong></span></span><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN" lang="EN"><br /><span class="uistorymessage" style="font-family:Tahoma;"><strong>Aayenge woh din zaroor, </strong></span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"><span class="uistorymessage"><b><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >mujhe intezar nahi...<o:p></o:p></span></b></span><br /></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"><br /><br /></p></div><div><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"><br /><br /><br /> </p><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"><br /><br /> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><b><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ></span></b></span></p></div></div><div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal" align="right"><br /><br /><br /> </p></div><div><br /><br /></div><div align="right"><br /> </div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><b><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></p></div>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-598759433824235432010-02-09T14:07:00.003+05:302010-02-09T14:16:07.565+05:30Media Mockery- Yet Again .<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">When Barkha Dutt’s interview with SRK on what he feels about Bal Thackeray was being telecast the Nth time in NDTV, and when Headlines Today was discussing if the guy who stabbed Rathore was a drama ploy by Rathore’s camp, and CNN IBN was discussing BT Brinjal, a small ignorable scroll was running that 16 Indian Soldiers had perished under an avalanche in Jammu, and at least 60 others were fighting for their lives under tons of snow.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Media is a profit game, TRPs do matter, and Sensitive stories capture imaginations. Our media is selective about deciding what we should hear.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"> </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Why isn’t that such a disaster would capture their time share? </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">How is a drop of blood from Rathore’s chin more important than 16 soldiers who died on duty? </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Why is it that six people killed in a shooting incident in a far fledged state of USA gather media coverage in all our channels, but a boat capsize in a far away village of Bihar or Bengal just gets a passing remark .</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Is media circumspect of human lives based on the TRPs that the news would garner? </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Isn’t there a bigger role expected to be played by them ?</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></o:p></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">My homage to those brave army men who lost their lives saving us and keep getting ignored. Pardon us , if you can, for we feel that your lives are less valued than what a Thackeray would utter next . <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></span></p>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-60186811152976320122010-01-28T14:40:00.008+05:302010-01-28T16:11:48.851+05:30Swanthana - Haven of Little Angels<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/S2FfT0cIhXI/AAAAAAAAENI/DDV14cP8YIM/s1600-h/mini-DSCF6959.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431727419684324722" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/S2FfT0cIhXI/AAAAAAAAENI/DDV14cP8YIM/s320/mini-DSCF6959.JPG" /></a><br /><div><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><span style="color:#ff0000;"><em><strong>If you have a heart, it will bleed once you read the first few lines.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></strong></em></span></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><strong>The Just born ammu was thrown in the waste bin behind a hotel one night. By next morning, she was almost eaten up by stray dogs and crows. Fortunately for her she was rescued. But due to that ordeal, she is paralyzed waist down.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p><strong></strong></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">There is one girl who was dumped in the waste bin in a railway station. She was rescued but acute malnutrition had left her mentally and physically disabled.<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;color:#ffffff;" lang="EN" ><o:p><strong></strong></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;">Another girl was hit by an iron rod by her dad as he was trying to hit her mom. The kid who was healthy is now mentally and physically disabled and has been abandoned by her parents.<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;color:#333333;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >These were the sights we saw at Swanthana, an orphanage for Mentally and physically challenged girl children.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >Words cannot describe the agony we, the members of Feed the Nation went through watching these kids, holding them and trying to make them smile. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >A lot of new members had joined us for the visit. Our Project Coordinator, Vineeth had done a pilot visit to ascertain the requirements. They needed Clothes, Diapers as all kids attend the natures call as is, and food. Mails were circulated to members to arrange for these needs. Apart from this our new member Rubina had arranged lunch for all the inmates and FTN members.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >Being the Republic day, the Nuns had arranged for flag hoisting. We had nothing much to do to entertain the kids than carrying them around, and moving them around in their wheel chairs. The kids’ happiness was over whelming. They wanted to move around, and the moment anyone was taken back to the building, we could hear the screams to go out again. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >It was an appealing sight. The privilege each of us enjoy to be able to do what we want, in knowing what we are doing. And here is a bunch of kids, at the mercy of others for no fault of theirs. Their only fault is probably that they survived their birth, and sadly were born to selfish and heartless parents, who left them to the mercy of the world, so that they may live a peaceful life. I'm very sure they wouldn’t have slept a single night peacefully, after the day they decided to dump their bundle of joy into a waste bin, for the stray dogs to feast on her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >The home is run amazingly well. The Nuns led by Sis Regina , takes extremely good care of the kids. They hardly have any external support, and hence are not able to accommodate more kids. The facility now has 29 kids and they are willing to take more needy kids, but are short of space. They are looking forward for a big time sponsor to build some extra rooms for them. On a day to day basis, they need clothes, diapers, food, toys etc for the kids. We want to associate with them long time on these needs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >As we parted, most of us had very heavy hearts. As I shared this with my friends, many came forward to provide more help. Most of us cannot take away our minds of that little ammu who captured our thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >My Daughter, Anandita summed it up later that evening, when she told me “ Lets go there again daddy, ammu was so happy when she was with us” .<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span class="uistorymessage"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Century Gothic'; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-ansi-language: ENfont-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >We would be going there soon, may be for Ammu's 1st birthday which is in february. </span></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Century Gothic';"><o:p></o:p></span></p></div>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-75863440905155432182010-01-19T10:50:00.003+05:302010-01-19T11:38:17.746+05:30Yaadon Ki Baaraat - A Charity event by Feed The Nation<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/S1VMNZ0G8iI/AAAAAAAAELY/FzVm4CIrdAU/s1600-h/yaadon_ki_baraat-3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428328719016456738" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/S1VMNZ0G8iI/AAAAAAAAELY/FzVm4CIrdAU/s320/yaadon_ki_baraat-3.jpg" /></a><br /><div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/S1VLpo3HBMI/AAAAAAAAELI/l7zmRLESdcM/s1600-h/FTN+notice.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 226px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428328104580285634" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/S1VLpo3HBMI/AAAAAAAAELI/l7zmRLESdcM/s320/FTN+notice.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>Yaadon Ki Baaraat as it was rightly named took us through a nostalgic ride of retro music, the golden era of Indian Music. It was a fund raiser organised for Feed the Nation. Appreciations that have come from all quarters including print media has given us the courage and momentum to chase our dreams and live up to our vision "<br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;" ></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;" ><em>“To instill a sense of charity and selfless social service among youngsters for the progressive growth of our nation”.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></em></span></p><br /><br /><strong>Feed the Nation,</strong> the charity trust we founded 2 years back has grown from a small community of 11 members to around 330 members and is ever increasing. The need of a fund raiser came as the projects we were supporting have increased and the outlay every month has gone beyond the monthly contributions being provided from the members. We decided to do a series of such events to have a fixed fund that would support all our causes in the coming months and years.<br /><br />We work on 3 causes :<br /><strong><u>1) Old Age Homes</u></strong><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;">“Raising a kid is a relatively easier job than nurturing the kid within a grown up”. Many who feel so end up sending their parents to places like these. A lot of people from very affluent families spend the remaining of their lives in these places, not knowing where they lost the plot! Going to these places we have been trying to give a few moments during which they treat like us their own. The satisfaction and conviction in doing this is immense. Expressing this is something that words can easily come short of."</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></p><span style="font-family:Arial;"><o:p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;" >The first visit to an old aged home was an eye opener for all of us. We had plans of generating some funds and then donating it to them. As we spoke to the inmates, we realized how far away from truth we were. They had some basic needs like new clothes and medicines, but it was not the money they wanted us to bring. All they wanted from us was our time. As my 5 year daughter gave them new clothes, we could notice the tears in their eyes. An evening spend there, changed our mindsets of what we wanted to do. We realized that more than the money we could generate, its the time that we can spend with them that would matter.<o:p></o:p></span></p></o:p></span><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></o:p></p><br /><strong><u>2) Orphanages</u></strong><br /><strong><u></u></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;" >We go there as to be one among them, have some fun – even if it is short lived. We have visited them and do so repeatedly and support them in various ways, be it school kits, uniforms etc. <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;" >We have seen these kids in orphanages waiting for us, when we inform our plan of visit. We organize painting, singing, dance competitions for them, we play musical chair with them, we organize lunch for them on that day and all of us eat with them. The day ends with the price distribution for the winners of the contests. The sad part is to leave them and go, but an assurance of coming back soon keeps the kids happy.</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><strong><u>3) Rescue Shelters for Mentally Challenged</u></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><b><u><span style="font-family:'Book Antiqua';"></span></u></b><o:p></o:p></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:'Book Antiqua';">A visit to the kid’s orphanages or old age homes where our gestures are understood is a satisfying one. But what if these gestures aren’t understood? What if we aren’t even sure if the person we are talking to knows we are talking to him/her?! Institutes like these just need our presence. May be a childish laughter coupled with one more warms many a heart.</span><o:p></o:p></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;font-size:9;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;font-size:9;" >We work with mental destitute homes like Aakashaparavakal in Thannisandra. They rescue mentally ill people from the streets and rehabilitate them. We realized that most of them have some memory left in them of their homes, and are able to communicate the details .Unfortunately many of them are from north or east <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /><st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> and speak only their mother tongue. This makes identification process difficult. FTN is currently working on creating language pool with our friends who are from various corners of <st1:country-region st="on">India</st1:country-region> working in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Bangalore</st1:place></st1:city>. So when an inmate is brought in who looks to be from say, north east, we would take someone who can speak his language. We hope this would help the caretakers to trace his home and return him to his relatives.</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;font-size:9;" ></span><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;font-size:9;" >Being mentally ill, they attend natures calls as it is.They tear off clothes in a virtual exhibition of primate instincts. They need t-shirts and shorts, may be a pair a week. </span><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:9;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;font-size:9;" >They have 70 inmates as of now. </span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;font-size:9;" ></span></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><u><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;" >Chaitanya Day Care Centre:<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;" >Its very recent venture has been funding the Day Care Centre for the kids of contractual construction workers at NIMHANS, <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Bangalore.These kids are deprived primarly education, as their parents are migrant labourers and do not stay at one place. </st1:city></st1:place>A full time teacher is also present in the day care centre, who takes them through basic education 6 days a week. We also support their needs of study materials and nutritious food in school. </span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;" ></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; LINE-HEIGHT: 150%; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Book Antiqua';font-family:Arial;" ></span></p></div></div></div>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-84648640392780699192010-01-04T16:19:00.003+05:302010-01-04T16:35:01.954+05:30Criminal Justice or Justice for Criminals ???<p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">Sadly our Criminal Justice system is to ensure Justice to Criminals.</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">Paki terrorists caught with 17 kgs RDX and 50 Kg Heroin, gets few yrs behind bars and were to be deported back to pak, when they escaped.. </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">What are we showing to the world?? </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">If you are successful in bringing your weapons and manage to kill our people, then we will give you a fair trail . We will listen to your grossly idiotic stories that, you came to watch a movie and was caught on wrong charges. Thus we would let the world applaud our justice system ?? </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">But if we catch you before blasting, you will get few years in jail , and then you go back home and come back again well trained and equipped ?</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">Is it not time, that we start behaving like a nation serious about national security ? If you dare touch my land, ill ensure you touch nothing again for life ..Should that not be our policy..</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Why are we so soft as a nation? When do we say that , if you dare attack my country and Ill finish you for ever.</span> ??</span></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;"></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;"></span></p>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-68539422199797329332009-11-26T13:31:00.002+05:302009-11-26T13:53:14.567+05:30An year after 26/11<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/Sw45zxX6lbI/AAAAAAAAD0s/4nyqLs6d7lc/s1600/flag.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408323764108301746" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/Sw45zxX6lbI/AAAAAAAAD0s/4nyqLs6d7lc/s320/flag.jpg" /></a><br /><div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >26/11 is not just a reflection of Mumbai's spirit; it’s also a day to stand united against the insiders and outsiders who sell our motherland.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >Endless TV debates and protests rallies culminated in nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >What we all thought would be the start of a new era isn’t a start yet.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >We watch our political leadership sling mud on each other, while enjoying Z category protection for himself and Y category for his relatives.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >The tax payer’s money which should give him better security ends up being used in providing cover these - burden on mother earth – leaders.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >The common man on the street even today is a sitting duck for any one to come and shoot at. <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >The leaders are more bothered on who speaks and doesn’t speak Marathi. He is worried on who shouts Jai Ram and who shouts Ya Ali.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >They spend 2600 crore to build their own statues, an act worthy of the dictators who flourished eating up the poor mans crop. </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Tahoma;">They fight like stray dogs inside the temple of democary, our parliament, which has transformed into a millionaires club today. Their asset worthiness grows into multiple fonts after each election..</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Tahoma;"></span> </p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Tahoma;">But..........</span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >The police men who guard the Taj hotel in Mumbai, don’t have a shelter to live in. They have made the Gateway of India into a makeshift shelter. Shame on us ??? <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >The soldier in the border still puts his life on line 24 X 7 to guard us from our “friendly” neighbors. Our leadership still can’t decide if there is infiltration in the border or not. The parties fight to claim their stance. <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >The NSG commandos protect the 90 year old dads of Indian politicians, as if he is the greatest Indian treasure, whom the world is behind to kill.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >Are we bothered? We should be…</span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >But luckily for these Leaders or Dealers, we are not bothered. Our reaction ends up in an online platform or a TV debate. Unluckily for our motherland, she still gets sold in the market .<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" ><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN;font-family:Tahoma;" lang="EN" >I salute the brave Indian soldier and wish our leaders never become dealers again... Jai Hind.</span></p></div>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7774074957294785478.post-69850054061329565752009-09-20T22:45:00.006+05:302009-09-21T10:53:50.370+05:30Ammu's First Written Poem<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/SrcN2LOIXCI/AAAAAAAADj0/rw7Uy7bYWnI/s1600-h/IMG_1090.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383787103920872482" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/SrcN2LOIXCI/AAAAAAAADj0/rw7Uy7bYWnI/s320/IMG_1090.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/SrZmyFs3r4I/AAAAAAAADjs/0fz5a5LGma4/s1600-h/100_2966.JPG"></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bYWIBu7Rx4U/SrZlz_E3xdI/AAAAAAAADjk/qC0jak9yvao/s1600-h/ammu+new.JPG"><span style="color:#000000;"></span></a><span style="color:#000000;"><br /></span><br /><br /><div><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Ammu wrote a Poem today ... Publishing it as it is ..</span></em></div><br /><div><em><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></em></div><br /><br /><div><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Do ignore Gramatics ... Poets freedom :) </span></em></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;">The Sun is Shining</span></strong></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;"></span></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;">I saw the Moon</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;">It was very beautiful</span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;">Then I like it</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;">Then I went to the space</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;">Then I saw the Alien</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;">I scared and run</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;">Then the Alien catch me</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffffff;">Then I went to the Aliens home</span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#000000;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#000000;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#000000;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#000000;"></span></div></div></div>Manoj Thelakkathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02091261333076187354noreply@blogger.com10