Banning Homoeopathy

There is a jealousy wave on to ban a system, which works, but which we cannot appreciate with our methods of science, evidence based medicine.

I am one who can vouch for it, agreed there are no methods to explain, but neither can many things in nature.

The NHS spends 10 million of its budget of 80 billion pounds on homoeopathy, a small fraction, but if it is only to save money,( they need to cut 20 billion) let them avoid it, and spend on costly allopathic formulations to help big pharma.

I can offer other reasons to ban Homoepathy.

It helps the body to heal by itself,and has earned a name of placebo,

It touches the patients heart and body,

Offers better relationship with the patient,

It works where other systems have given up

It works even below avagadros number where at least one molecule must be present to say, an element.

In short at times it is a miracle so it must be banned to those who don’t want it, and find it a competition.

My arguments are endless, but my reasoning is clear to those who can read between the lines.

Millennium Actress (2003) [* * * * * *]

This is a wonderful anime about how the heart yearns for the unreachable. And a story about the karmic origins of unquenchable love.

Chiyoko is a 70 yr old movie star who vanishes from the public eye. One of her devotees goes to get an interview from her about her life.

We're taken through many lifetimes starting with the one where she rescues and hides a painter from the authorities as a child. He goes on the run and leaves behind a key 'to the most important thing in the world' which she wants to return to him. She begins her acting career to follow him to Manchuria, hoping he'd see her movie and come to find her.

The movie spins a web of lifetimes and acting roles of a woman's longing for her first love. It keeps her young and rouses the jealousy of a co-star, the devotion of fans and suffering.

The cinematic style is surreal, but then, so is love.:)

Moms are same - “ unique”

All mothers are loving and kind and self less and so much more, all are the same, but one thing is they are all unique in their own way.

All words are insufficient to express our love and affection for them, but out actions and our respect for them in the heart will show.

My mom had a quiet life, simple person, all her brothers and sisters were in this village, she enjoyed their company any time she wanted, she had too many friends, and even made a friend of one who avoided and went on the opposite side of the road, by calling and chit chatting, and offering something to eat, and words of comfort.

She had been on no medicines, and had no aliments to mention, she did not have any pains as such, she liked a lot of back scratching which I loved to do as it was time to learn things then ,as she used to give tips of loving folks and winning hearts, being cautious and keeping things in order.

She left with a smile on her face and tears in our eyes.

I thought I was the only one to have lost, no --many had done too , she had a place in many hearts.

we are all rich with her memory.

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea [2002] [* * * *]

Jules Verne's book is pretty hard going for any child, since he wrote in such great detail. Such fabulous ideas deserve being presented visually. This has always been the best argument for making a movie - that the story cannot have been accessed by so many without the medium.

This story is an adaptation, so its not like the original, but it contains all the essential ingredients of the book - the concept of freedom from Nemo's perspective: free from human bondage in the vast oceans, where no man or nation can rule over another '30 ft underwater'.

5 people are rescued by Nemo and taken on a fantasy journey from the South Pole to Atlantis. Eventually they escape because of homesickness, but not until they learn the wonder of the deep ocean and the man who conquered it, the defiant reclusive genius, Capt. Nemo.

I really enjoyed the action-packed adventure by MGM, though it lacked something of the Disney artistry.

Iron Man 2 (2010) [* *]

I really liked the first Iron Man but this second one was so boring despite the elaborate sets they blew up to entertain. The most boring movies have very little meaningful dialogue and take the audience for granted. This sequel does both in excess.

The original had the transformation of a man from a casual death-dealing arms manufacturer to world protector, however superficially (since he was american and the arms race is in their blood now). In this sequel, you see Tony Stark go back to being a casual american jerk; and worse, the two main female characters are reduced to being mindless models given high positions for their poses! Gwenyth Paltrow refused to show more than a doozy blonde bimboness from start to finish. And, really, Robert Downey Jr. and she had no zing. Why don't they replace both?:p

I've begun to realise I hate movies with Scarlett  Johansson. I don't know what directors see in her, but she's been bagging fabulous roles and reducing them to forgettable for a few years now - as Black Widow, she's doing it again here.:)

I was so disappointed.

Pisasu tries a Pizzazu

Our villagers are recently being wooed by the Italian delight pizzazu.( identical with pizza, but rhymes with pisasu)

I was one day flipping sweet chappthis on the frying pan at home ,and expressed our school chapattis were similar to this and the modern day pizza looked familiar too.

This is when my lady made a connection of the mythological beauty Mohini Pisasu, tasting micro-waved pizza, and so these types.

Our villagers are already adapted with the half cooked barotas, made of maida, so this was not much of a difference for them, but having them zapped inside the microwave oven with the toppings of cheese, mushrooms and onions and the relaxed place to enjoy them was making the village Mohini envious.

She decided to have a taste of them one evening at the pizzeria chennai cake shop, in our village corner. She came in a white saree and her hair loosely made and fragrant white jasmines, she got one of the famous two inch high heels and nickled anklets.

We were her escorts for the evening, and she made the request she wanted to try out the pizzas as it was the talk at her home cloud.

The Keralite handsome who was at the counter, read the scene and accordingly made preparations to get the best table and bouquet and bleached white table cloth, to go along with her white clean saree.

We ordered non micro-waved cutlets for ourselves and a pizza with the flavorings and toppings of the day( they have only one variety per day) for pisasu.

The beauty belles eyed their orders and me mine with suspicion, if it was also nuked.Pisasu, bit into her pizza finding all the mozzarella cheese toppings, mushroom pieces.

She closed her eyes and felt the taste with added feelings, she used garlic and tomato ketchup for more bites, she licked her lips and her fingers, a sure sign of relishment to the last bit of a bite.

I could see the satisfaction in her eyes, she relished every morsel, and I was wondering if she will ask for a recipe to take to her land for a try out.

We asked her if she wanted a take home pack, she smiled as a reply.

There was a long distance telepathic call this morning"Pisasu tries a Pizzazu" was as good as the original pizza.

Gulf in oil and flames and America dribbling balls

The gulf is in a state of media siege, and hence no news leaks out, and to fill the space , games are on screen, and all my American friends are hooked, booh booh.

There has been a lot of speculation of Bobby Jindal governor of Louisiana being in for the next presidency.

With this disaster on, I doubt if he will ever make it, with his orders already being nulled by higer authorities in the federal government, for getting out the oil sleek in his area, with his ideas.

Is this planned destruction of the beautiful land and sea in the gulf areas, and all its living? eventual evacuation of people to other areas?

A festival of aroma

Like all other senses the sense of smell is on the decline for me, so these words are an encouragement from the feelings of my lady in her memory.

There are a variety of festivals, with a lot of money and time spent to make an impression, but this is a different sort.

It was one of the school days and we went there to pay for the kids education for the first quarter, it was lunch time and the kids were just getting ready, when the bell hit the gong, with the surge of electricity flowing through the wires.

The school suddenly came to life like a hive of a honey bee all buzzing, the kids washed and all found their favorite haunts and friends to make their lunch time a festival, and this time one of taste and aroma.

My lady remembers the times when the kids opened their lunch boxes and the aroma that floated across the school was a thrill of homeliness.

Imagine the loving care the mothers took to get that food for their child, to get it as neat and fresh as possible, and all that flowed at once at lunch time.

For some it was curd rice, with that lime pickle, others it was sambar sadam,or a celebration of biriyani to be shared with the whole gang who take off with that rack of the tiffin carrier, some had leftovers of the breakfast hastily done, so as not to miss that school van.

Whatever is the food, sitting in the shade of a neem tree or on the verandah of the block with the neatly folded towel on the lap and the company of friends, is the moment one gets to realize when one sends their kid to school.

These are times which linger in memory for long, and get rekindled with that aroma flowing in the air at a function.

A simple dish can get to bring friends closer and distant quite ones to the fold. With a soft music of patriotic spirit in the background, lunch time is one of the best times to visit the school, and learn to appreciate the warmth of the homely school ness, a blend of both at a time.

Beauty of Troy turns courageous in America

I have been reading articles about the Middle East and the conflicts that are happening there, and their tentacles across the world.

They had been handled with a lot of emotions and patriotic spirits in no mans land of biblical history, with references to past times and words of God.

Most news on media were always one sided and one tends to follow the winning side, naturally.

Some times one tends to think rationally and gets confused and pathetic, but all things came into focus with the recent happenings of the freedom flotilla attacks.

A long time journalist was asked for her views, in America.

She has been ridiculed for her words, and many have exposed them selves by their actions.

If all this seems like a trojan horse ,open her up with this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L6CVU8VwAVY

and learn with exploration.

In search of Satheesh , to find myself

I had a class mate whose was named as sateesh, it has recently been said that he is in Ramana Ashram in Arunachala. I decided to find him in imagination.

The road to Thiruvanamalai was full of bumps and turns which helped me stay awake through out the journey.

I found my way to the ashram entrance by way of an auto after a wash at a place.

The cool shade at the front was a welcome feeling for the heat of the region, and one could feel the serenity from then on.

Every one seemed to know where they wanted to go, they all seemed to be living in a world of their own and the other seemed not to exist.

Walking a few steps I noticed a library and a meditation hall, the peacocks were bellowing their presence, they moved around with no care of being hurt or being a disturbance to the folks.

Turning left into the hall I found, a statue of Ramana Maharishi in a casual pose.

Many were sitting silently in the hall and a few were going around the statue.

Moving away from that hall I found a side entrance leading to a room where Ramana used to meet folks.

A couch was in place and a picture of Ramana on it , many folks were siting silently, my mind wanted a hearing , it said why not sit for some time.So that is where things started, it was a deep silence and filling, loss of space and time , and back to reality.

Many were lucky to meet him in person, I met one in our village, she is 70 odd years now, she was 6 when she met him then.

I walked around the ashram , found a path at the back leading on to the Arunachala hillock, climbed for a distance and returned.

All the folks of the ashram looked like Satheesh to me, calm and sweet and about their business.

I returned back to the main hall and decided to find out what I did not know I was searching for. I sat down .

Every one seemed to have a master to show the way, I wanted one too, I made a request and left.

Satheesh s name seemed to have a very deep meaning of TRUTH and GODLINESS, may be he is bound to find those things in his stay, and show the way for many to follow.

Spiritual Bar

There are many places where one can share an ecstatic moment of drunkenness with the divine, alone or along with fellows of like mindedness. “Spiritual Bar” was the term that was used , and I liked it immediately.

Many would call it a drugged state or hypnotized or fooled by senses, what ever , one cannot be cheated by the state of ecstasy one feels then and later.

At a satsung with like minded ones and a master, at sun sets on a mountain side, alone on a mountain path, each one to their own settings, high stool or a low seat.

I just found one such place, in the centre of my village, where chit chatters, idlers, flower vendors; village gossipers find solace and freedom.

I did not disturb them one morning, but quietly accommodated myself and started to feel a state of emptiness, and yet fullness strange as it may sound, but that is it.

I am not one who has been under the influence of alcohol, so I take it as a similar state, but where nature has a role to play as the chemical inducer.

It is a simple walk around verandah with a tiled roof with a pyramid shape, having a stone as deity at the centre, and just 25 to25 feet square shaped space, of cemented raised floor.

There is no one to offer any thing, yet u get to take home an experience. A drunken state of bliss.

Bird in oil - not a painting

Journalists are being told not to interview workers at the clean up of the oil mess sites, in the Gulf of Mexico, workers breaking the rules will loose their jobs of cleaning.

So these words….

“We are a group of flyers/swimmers/crawlers from the Gulf of Mexico, we have decided to talk to bloggers. We know u humans are hurt in the recent oil seepage at the sea bed, that are affecting the industries that depend on the beauty and safety of the sea.

U folks are worried about the loss of business; we are worried about the loss of life and the extinction of many species.

The seepage of oil at the sea bed is chocking off our breathing air in the water, killing the beings in the region, our food and environment and home, the oily murk is sticky to the surface of bodies and destroying us.

Do u think we can scrub ourselves off that oily glue?

The whales,dolphins, varieties of fishes, crabs, shrimps , lobsters and more species u cannot think of, are getting covered in this poisonous discharge

The whole area is getting destroyed, the pelicans and other birds who fish, get covered in this filth and are getting stuck in this tarry yuck.

The surface destruction is a miniscule of what is happening underneath it, which u cannot see.

You humans are only pointing your fingers and accusing each other of this doing, adding chemical dispersants more toxic than the oil to hide the seepage.

There was even a joke in your mails “said one shrimp to another we end up in oil any way” so why bother!!!

We wonder if u will ever learn from this catastrophe, in the loss of beauty and destruction of this place called Earth.”

Covert ones own wife

Of all the commandments I think the sixth commandment is one of the most difficult ones to follow for a man of charm, with the psychological skill of a huntsman, at a strangers wife.

The neighbors wife seems to always bring on the best of a mans hidden talent that has been rusting since his wooing days of his younger times, when he has won his girl, and then forgotten that she has to be won every day, and that she is not a trophy, to be kept at a cupboard.

It is time it resurfaces and he sharpens them by using it and romances with his own wife.

Oh it is a challenge, one needs to learn many things to keep up to the times, and expectations of the lady of the home, and the sweetheart of the mind.

One can read all the books and tricks of the trade, but when it comes to reality, each one to his own experience.

He can start with hibernating the remote control of the tv, and stop the news paper, and spend more time at the kitchen and never offer solutions, only catalystic decisions when given a choice, ohh it can go on and on, and learn new skills like a short lesson at the masseur, or “how to be patient at the shopping times” and more…

We must have positive commandments and , “Thou shall covert ones own wife” shall be one of them.

Uppu uma - divinity from a clay pot

In these days of micro wave cooking and more posh utensils from copper bottomed to stainless steel, the simple clay pot may seem out of place, well it may, but it has no nasty things and all the more for taste and nutritious safeness of the food.

It was getting time for dinner and the dish had been decided as uppuma,we got the onions cut and the clay pot cleaned, and the wheat ready.

The usual preparations of mustard roasting and the onions reddening and then the water added to boil and salted and the wheat added, all similar to the usual preparations, but this is the clay pot which makes the difference of an over all even cooking of the ingredients that makes the food a relish .

Our street is a dead end so there is no traffic, and ours is a mud road, so naturally landscaped to a bumpy ride, with bushes on either side.

We used the rope cot (kavuru kattal) as our table and reclining chairs and feasted on this simple dish with country brown sugar and lime oooruga( pickle) , and the silent night as a watcher, for our garden dinner.

A path we all walked

Traversing my route from place of work to home, is a stretch that leads to the local primary school, it is a distance of a 100 meters.

It is a way everyone in our place had walked to the school, the big tycoons, the neurophysicans across the atlantic or the orthopaedics in the United Kingdom , the bootlegger with crores and those close to the ministers bidding,to the present president of the village.

This afternoon I was just crossing that lane, and I saw the kids leaving school, all hand in hand and dangling their lunch boxes and water bottles and the famous yellow bags of our village, with the slate and books.

My dad used to tell me that he too studied in that school, and those blocks are still there, with the new ones added, with a compound now, and a gate.

It was a plot my grand dad donated and he was well forgotten, to be remembered by his great grand kids now, who have started to do benevolent work, and have got his picture put up in school.

All things great have simple beginnings and like that is this path and this school.

Competition - a rat race to the finish and beyond

It had started a long time back from the chase to the egg inside the womb, learning to leave that old habit can sure be difficult for the modern world.

Wishful thinking, but I sure feel it could help ease a lot of worry for the fast paced world of indifference to the neighbor.

The schooling, the games we play, the mark sheets and the encouragements all follow the attitude of competition.

The one on the top gets the choicest portion of cuts, but the others too have talents of their level. Who cares.

No one is a dumb assed groper, all have capacities of uniqueness, but who will help to surface that in us all.

may be this wont work for the present times.

If only we begin to realize that life is a play, and not an event with prize distribution at the end, it can be more fun and relaxing.

A jack among fruits , who is the king

I was strolling one morning a few days back at the market, indecisive to the purchase, when my eyes set on an old couple peeling a jack fruit.

I normally don’t buy them, but today was a temptational difference.

I enquired of the yellow ripe small fruitlets inside the big fruit, and was told a no bargain price of 50 paise each with the kottais(seeds) , as the nuts are also used in a curry dish, or roasted and relished.

I got for about 2 rupees for a sample for a larger buy another day, I was given 7 pieces with affection from the old couple.

I washed them at home and peeled off the seeds, and we shared the ripe yellow sweet fruit .

My lady made a kara kolambhu that afternoon with the seeds, first well boiled and then cut and added with the masala curry. Goes great with rice, the boiled seeds taste great with rasam.

Larger purchases followed another day.

Who is W H O ?

Dr Fiona Godlee, editor of BMJ , had harsh words for the WHO, saying “ its credibility has been badly damaged. WHO must act now to restore it”.

The recent exposure of the B M J to say that WHO has lost its creditability, following its members accepting bribes from the vaccine industry to declare the swine flu a pandemic, one is bound to ask who is WHO?

For any study in health matters W H O is always quoted and its findings are taken for granted, its slogans pasted on health care buildings, and is allowed into any country with out any hurdles, its medical recommendations and schedules accepted as best after trials,from the best medical minds in the world.

The whole world and its governments take advice from the organization in health matters, with out a second reasoning, will they continue to do so?

Response to the report, WHO secretary general Dr Margaret Chan defended the secrecy, saying that WHO intentionally kept the financial ties a secret in order to “ protect the integrity and independence of the members while doing this critical word and also to ensure transparency”

By the way … for the record, there has never been a single scientific study ever published showing that H1N1 vaccines worked, not only was the pandemic a fraud to begin with , but the medicines they claimed to treat it was also a fraud.

Now we know the rest of the story of why it was done: kick backs from Big pharma paid to advisors who told WHO to declare a pandemic. -Mike Adams

Cold pressed oil rescues a hard pressed heart

In our villages one could see the bullocks going round and round a central wooden pit those days, a museum picture I guess for modern times of oil refining processes.

With some modernization maintaining the originality of cold pressed oil, it can still be got at some places with concerned oilmen.

For domestic use, gingely, coconuts,and peanuts are the usual material used, these days others are used , but these are the norm, with out adulteration for a price.

Scientifically speaking the value of cold pressed oil is best known as it does not solidify at body temperature, acceptable by the body for its enrichments and good if u do not heat it and make it a carcinogenous compound.

It does not have the chemical residuals and other bad nature of the refined oils that are promoted so much on the billboards and other media with musical words,(oooooshha , la la la ooooshha)as if the doctors in white coats are promoting it.

Unheated, cold pressed oil can be used ,for podi( pulses powder) dal ,as salad dressing and other dishes, and for the typical oil bath which helps in the production of vitamin d with the help of sun light.

It would be good if we had, learned folks to promote this, and later to have nuts as a switch to most natural oils.

One step at a time.

Almost all health worries with oily base will go.

http://www.encyclopedia.com/video/C1vHmk_Rp9A-making-sesame-peanut-oil-in.aspx

Americans are great ball players

The Americans are one of the best players of ball, whether it needs to be goaled or holed , or basketed, or homed.

But let us see if they have balls of courage when one of their own is executed across the high seas, or when their land is being destroyed with oily leaks of wreckage, by foreign firms.

We are seeing drama on international waters with peaceful flotilla being raided and fellow citizen killed, yet the American government is placid and quiet and not a finger is raised.

It has happened before and will happen again if they don’t raise their voices, guess their folks are being fed with drugs in their food and water and hypnotized in their media, with cheap family destroying themes.

They are great ball players, but have none where needed.

Ragi dosai

In the “black is beautiful and dark is nutritious” series, the addition is the ragi dosai.

We get our ragi from the weekly market, we let it dry on the terrace, and then have it milled .

Onions are cut and fried with mustard and dal and the ragi powder is mixed with water to a watery paste, salt and chilli powder are added.

The frying dosai kallu is used , and the ragi dough is spread to have a thin dosai.

It goes well with practically any side dish or none at all, as I had this morning.

A name , a distinction

For many our name is mythological, it may be royal it may be common, it may be familial, or cultural , a fragrance or a geological presence, a meaningful one or abstract, but for all it has nothing of a selection, but an identity.

Most names stick to us for sake of a card, a form or a savings, but for few it stays in the heart and mind, it is that which makes us what we are and what we do.

For that it is the friends and close ones who address to make a difference.

I have had strings of names, from pathy to bad word pathy, as the addresser could not get to the first part of my name and found it sound like a bad word, and used it for convenience.

The school mates got pretty worked up with nick names which ranged from pygmy to Bandar, and more images that they saw in me.I was the shortest one with the longest name.

Some even saw me as a “baethee” and others as jalapathy.

There are still folks who call me as Thirupathy, my system is used to respond to all these forms, and all places.

(I found Menaka Gandhi explain meanings of Hindu Names a good exposure,some collected this book before finding names for kids)

The parents address is in the vernacular as “mogu” which literally means a kid. we will remain so all their lives.

The latest is the lady of the home sounding what she sees in the present and reality and that is “gooondooos”.

Now that u have my whole range, what is yours?

Mirror mirror on the wall…

It was a wish I always wanted, a way to communicate with inhuman things. it was granted for non sensual times of consciousness.

I have a paunch, and I can see it when I try to see my toes while I stand, I have them obstructed from view.

The mirror on the wall does not seem to notice that when it reflects me on the mirror, it shows a flat stomach.

There is something magical in the reflection and I was seeking an answer, when it opened up’ “Ever since the fairy tale days of Snow White, even the haggard queen wanted to be known as the most beautiful, it was always of comparison and not aware ness of ones own blessedness”.

“I have decided to show man his real beauty and his potential, and hide his failures to let him rise in consciousness and more possibilities”.

“Now we mirrors and our cousins have become reflecting medias for bringing on ones best, and filtering the failures and hiding the non essentials.

Check now u will see what is best in you”.

Is hell real?

I guess it sure is, pick up any news paper or a news cast, is there any news of heavenly act or a place of heaven in them.

It is time we get such things on news and for that heavenly things must happen, and they must be found to be more important than tragedies.

In future when news organizations find no news they will help make tragedies to get news.

We people in general are getting to relish sadistic acts, inhuman activity and games promoting violence.

Quietude and calmness is being found to be sort of an abnormal behavior.

The reason for this, is there is no money and power for peace and happiness, war and hatred and more espionage activities to make enemies bring on lots of money and business and power over people.

The cunning ones who don’t want to work , and whose forefathers had lived that way by means of exploitation find ways to make a hell in this world of earth, where a heaven is a possibility, but which wont fetch them a living.

They maneuver strategies, where they can dupe innocent folks into sheep, and trade freedom for security.

May we get to see and read alternative media, to notice beings of human nature and natural things to make this place a HEAVEN on Earth.

Humming chat between two bees

Said one bee to the another, “how about we have a bee to bee chat?hmmm( ok)”.

Our cousins across the world are shrinking said the forest bee, the city one agreed.

I am out of touch I do not know, can u say a few reasons for our decline ?

Well said the city bee, who is under constant watch, to produce honey for the industrial hive. “u are still in the forest and don’t know the ways of the world.”

Like we communicate with a dance and feelings, exchange of hormonal touch, the humans are communicating with a wave length we use for communication too, but which disrupts our geo locating system back to our hives.

It disrupts our queen from laying more soldier eggs,it is called as a cellular phone, the whole world is now in cells with a tower as its centre, at all human areas.

We have more worries, we used to help pollinate their plants, but now we cant seem to find the flowers and the pollens natural, they are different and our explanations cannot be understood by them. The honey we make are not like it used to be before. we give up.

They are using chemicals to make the plants grow into monsters and Frankenstein food, pesticides to keep away the natural insects which help eat up the next in line, insects.

If we are gone,I wonder who will help him make his food?

Man has lost his touch with NATURE, he needs to relearn his lessons.

Star-studded sleeping quarters

The moon light was our night lamp and the whole terrace was our sleeping quarters.

We made preparations with our straw mats and jamakallam carpets, and made our way on to the terrace (which is normally used only for drying clothes,) after our dinner.

( that is a feast I will type them here another time)

The two cinema theatres close by used to play music and advertistments for aginomoto on the bull horn speakers, but now they are quiet after the noise pollution rules.

We chit chatted with the kid, ( rare times these days)talking about general things and dozed away with the fan to keep off the mosquitoes.

The cemented floor gets us hot and the atmospheric chillness gets us cool, god what a combination!

I have a cousin who told me he has an artificial sky look alike situation in his room, when we shared this,( phosphorescent screen stuck to his roof!! With stars and moon ) nothing to beat a real sky, with Mother Natures warmth and care, and sometimes a sudden spell of rain, which will get us clambering down or jumping gates.( too many wild tales)

Queen of fruits-mangoes

It is the season of mangoes and salem is known for them from the times of kannadasan songs, now we have the salem steels title taken over.

There are many varieties of the fruit, and I like the small Nadu Salai the best, I have heard that mulgova is a treat.

My mother in law made a present of them this week and it was a time of feasting on them. Bless the lady presenter.

I sat down last evening at the portico at road level,with a washed mango and a tea spoon, went on to bite one end and slowly make my way into the pulpy fruit with not a drop of the juice being spilt or a piece missing my mouth.

The best way is this, as no mess is made, and the relishing method can be noticed and another one offered to have a re-play of the senses with a silent down to earth act of aloneness.

My lady likes it cut and taken with curd rice, each one to their own ways to enjoy Natures Bounty.

I can share with u my heart and words, but not my fruit, get yours and have a go with all the senses in play.

Happy Mangoeing.

Memorial day, a remembrance or a celebration

The Americans have been celebrating “memorial day” in honor of their army, at the last Monday of may.

Their army is across the world in so many countries, and yet they have none to check and guard their own borders.

They have lost many of their brave, strong and young ones for the welfare of whom, and where? They should be actually fasting than feasting for this occasion.

What memory do they have of their young and old ones on this day?are the alive hurt ones really helped or are they just a number on a file?,at the Vetrans affairs.

I fail to understand the significance of this and in this way,of celebration by commanders -in- chiefs who have had no role in their life in uniforms and guns at the warfronts.

It would be good to really see how many of the politicians have their family join the army, and be posted at far away posts away from the homeland, to make them realize the truth of separation in a family, for the elite to make money in war.

Such celebrations are a shame.

The real army chaps will shed a silent tear, when they had used even one ammunition to hurt a true civilian who was harmless, or these days take the medicines for depression.

I am against war and things which promote it and make a celebration of them to boost an already inflamed ego of arrogance and authoritative super force.