Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Christmas and My Birthday

This years Christmas day was a dull one for me...i got fever and cold ...FLU ...on 24th i have asked my management for a day off . My plan was to "adichupoli" the Christmas day with friends. :( but God had another plan for me ... he told me to take rest... :( ..24th evening i was having mild fever i couldn’t attend the midnight mass... i missed it ..i was really looking forward for that as i too was there in decorating the stage where the midnight mass was to be held (midnight mass of Christmas and Easter is not celebrated at church, bcoz there will be a huge crowd that day and our church cant accommodate all.. so its conducted at the Sacred Heart School ground in "Isa town"...a town far from Manama)...

On 25th i was shivering with fever , still i went to church to attend the mass at 9:00 am...after that i called home ,felt very sad. I miss them really . when i came back to my room everyone was ready for celebration , we cut the Christmas cake.. and i went to bed ...i was that much tired ...i couldn’t eat anything ...i took some medicines... and my friends had an awesome lunch... ..evening i was feeling better ...

26th -- My Birthday .. i was feeling better ...i went to office ... my friends called me and wished me ...and everyone reminded me that its time that u think about family life :D (i think i should take that advice seriously)...... evening i went to church ..i was happy that there was adoration in the church...for one hour i sat there ..thanking god for whatever he has given to me in his life.. my parents, brother , sister, friends, good job..etc etc... when i thinking about my past, i found how beautifully he has molded my life ...but still sometimes i quarrel with HIM. asking this and that ..asking why this happened in my life ..why U couldn’t provide me that....etc etc ...but am sure whatever happens in my life is for my good only really thankful to my Lord.

Below is two photos of our Christmas crib at Church... Yeah our crib at churh is really big ..

Saturday, December 24, 2005

Christmas Crib (Nativity Scene)

Christmas Crib (Nativity Scene) is a visual representation of Christ's birthplace and related events which happened on that day. It usually contains sculpture/picture of, Joseph, Mary and Baby Jesus inside the stable (will also have an ox and donkey), Angels singing Gloria, Shepherds with sheep’s, and the Three wise men coming to visit Jesus. And also there will be the star which leads the wise men to Bethlehem. It’s said St Francis of Assisi started the tradition of making sculptures for crib.

When i was young me and my brother used to make a "traditional" crib on the 24th of dec.. Yeah a keralite version of crib. The keralite crib of ours had some extra addins like.. black mountains, rivers, well , ponds..etc etc.. and we used to make miniature versions of green pastures by sowing "thena" ( i don’t know the English name of that) and Mustard seeds..the seeds usually germinates in 2 - 3 days and will look like a miniature version of green pasture. Mountains were created by painting newspaper with charcoal, and keeping it over rock pieces which will be made it in to the shape of mountains. The Well and Ponds were created by filling water inside hard shell of coconut. .. Everyone who made crib used their own imagination to make it more attractive... but the problem was sometimes u can see weird stuff inside crib.. I remember once seeing some penguins and polar bear inside the crib :( ....

Below are two images i got from net. Its from Kerala... a keralite crib u can say

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Christmas Tree

According to legend, Saint Boniface attempted to introduce the idea of trinity to the pagan tribes in Germany using the cone-shaped evergreen trees because of their triangular appearance. its said he used the triangular shape of the Fir Tree to describe the Holy Trinity of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Germany is credited with starting the Christmas tree tradition as we now know it in the 16th century when devout Christians brought decorated trees into their homes. It is a widely held belief that Martin Luther, the 16th-century Protestant reformer, first added lighted candles to a tree. And from that time onwards people began to put xmas trees in their houses, they also began to add gifts in to it and also lights. From germany the traditon of christmas trees began to spread to UK and to rest of Europe. From there it spread to the whole world.

Whatever the legend be , Christmas tree is now an integral part of christmas celebration. When i was a kid, me, my brother, and sister used to decorate our xmas tree with the help from dad. Actually our xmas tree was a permanent one, it was a Coco tree covered with a creeper variety of jasmine which stood just in front of our house. .So at the time of xmas we decorated it with whatever we can. And that realy looked beautiful at night.

Below is a nice Christams tale ..i dont know whos the Author .. but it defintely tells us to keep the real spirit of xmas , which i believe we are loosing...

The Last Christmas Tree

I saw a truck of Christmas trees and each one had a tale,
The driver stood them in a row and put them up for sale.

He strung some twinkly lights, and hung a sign up with a nail;

He poured himself hot cocoa in a steaming thermos cup,
And snowflakes started falling as a family car pulled up.

A mom, a dad, and one small boy who looked no more than three
Jumped out and started searching for the perfect Christmas tree.

The boy marched up and down the rows, His nose high in the air;
"It smells like Christmas, mom! "It smells like Christmas everywhere!"

"Let's get the biggest tree we can! "A tree that's ten miles high!
"A tree to go right through our roof! "A tree to touch the sky!"

"A tree SO big " That Santa Claus "Will stop and stare and say,
"'Now, THAT'S the finest Christmas tree "'I've seen this Christmas Day!'"

It seemed they looked at every tree at least three million times;
Dad shook them, pinched them, turned them 'round to find the perfect pine.

"I've found it, mom! "The Christmas tree I like the best of all!
"It's got a little bare spot, "But we'll turn that to the wall!"

"We'll put great-grandma's angel "On top the highest bough! "Oh, can we buy it?
"Please, mom, PLEASE?! "Oh, can we buy it NOW?"

"How 'bout some nice hot cocoa?" asked the man who owned the lot.
He twisted off the thermos top, "Now, THIS will hit the spot!"

He poured the steaming chocolate In three tiny paper cups.
They toasted,"Here's to Christmas!" And they drank the cocoa up.

"Is this your choice?" The tree man asked, "This pine's the best one here!"
The boy seemed sad--- "My daddy says" The price is just too dear."

"Then, Merry Christmas!" said the man, who wrapped the tree in twine,
"It's yours for just one promise "You must keep at Christmas time!"

"On Christmas Eve at bedtime "As you fold your hands to pray,
"Promise in your heart "To keep the joy of Christmas Day!"

"Now hurry home! This freezy wind"Is turning your cheeks pink!
"And ask your dad "To trim that trunk and give that tree a drink!"

And so it went on all that blustery eve
As the tree man gave tree upon tree upon tree

To every last person who came to the lot---
Who toasted with cocoa in small paper cups,

Who promised the promise of joy in their hearts---
And singing out carols, drove off in the dark.

And when it was over one tree stood alone;
But no one was left there to give it a home.

The tree man put on his red parka and hood
And dragged the last christmas tree out to the woods.

He left the pine right by a stream in the cold,
So the wood's homeless creatures could make it their home.

He smiled as he brushed off some snow from his beard,
When out of the thicket a reindeer appeared.

He scratched that huge reindeer on top his huge head---
"It looks like we've started up Christmas again!"

"There are miles more to travel, and much more to do!
"Let's go home, my friend, "and get started anew!"

He looked to the sky and heard jingle bells sound---
And then, In a twinkling, that tree man was gone!

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Magi - Wise Men who Visited Christ

Magi - Wise Men who Visited Christ

Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem . . .
Mathew 2:1

The Gospel of Matthew records the Magi as the first religious figures to worship Christ. Indeed of their three gifts, the last is the most important: myrrh. Myrrh was an herb that was mixed with oil to make a chrism, that is the ointment marking Jesus as a royal figure, a healer, and the divine Christ. This means that the Magi arrived at the stable with knowledge of the religious and cosmic importance of Christ's birth.

According to legends the name of the magi was Melchior, Balthazar, and Casper

A Shrine of the Three Kings at Cologne Cathedral, according to tradition, contains the bones of the Three Wise Men. Reputedly they were first discovered by Saint Helena on her famous pilgrimage to Palestine and the Holy Lands. She took the remains to the church of Hagia Sophia in Constantinople; they were later moved to Milan, before being sent to their current resting place by the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I in 1164.

Some Myths about Magi

1, They were 3 wise men - Bible doesnt says about the number of wise men
2, They came in camels - No, its not mentioned
3, They came from Perisa - Not sure, but it can be.
4, They were kings - Its said they were wise men not Kings
5, They came and visted christ at the stable on the day of his birth - not sure its on christmas itslef

We know from the Bible that wise men came from the east, that they followed a star to Bethlehem to find the Christ child, and that they brought him gold, and frankincense and myrrh. We must look to sources external to the Bible to find the origins of myths in details

Read about the visit of Magi in Bible (Malayalam)

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Evolution of Santa Claus

Evolution of Santa Claus

Santa Claus is one of the most remarkable figure associated with Christmas. Santa has always been an essential part of the Christmas celebration, but the modern image of Santa didn't develop until well into the 19th century. Moreover, he didn't spring to life fully-formed as a literary creation or a commercial invention. Santa Claus was an evolutionary creation, brought about by the fusion of two christian religious personages (St. Nicholas and Christkindlein, the Christ child).

In 1804, New York Historical Society was founded with Nicholas as its patron saint, its members reviving the Dutch tradition of St. Nicholas as a gift-bringer. In 1809, Washington Irving published his satirical A History of New York, by one "Diedrich Knickerbocker," a work that poked fun at New York's Dutch past (St. Nicholas included).

When Irving became a member of the Society the following year, the annual St. Nicholas Day dinner festivities included a woodcut of the traditional Nicholas figure (tall, with long robes) accompanied by a Dutch rhyme about "Sancte Claus" (in Dutch, "Sinterklaas"). Irving revised his History of New York in 1812, adding details about Nicholas' "riding over the tops of the trees, in that selfsame waggon wherein he brings his yearly presents to children." In 1821, a New York printer named William Gilley issued a poem about a "Santeclaus" who dressed all in fur and drove a sleigh pulled by one reindeer.

On Christmas Eve of 1822, another New Yorker, Clement Clarke Moore, wrote down and read to his children a series of verses; his poem was published a year later as "An Account of a Visit from St. Nicholas" Moore gave St. Nick eight reindeers (and named them all), and he devised the now-familiar entrance by chimney.

Meanwhile, in parts of Europe such as Germany, Nicholas the gift-giver had been superseded by a representation of the infant Jesus (the Christ child, or "Christkindlein"). The Christkindlein accompanied Nicholas-like figures with other names (such as "Père N?el" in France), or he travelled with a dwarf-like helper (known in some places as "Pelznickel," or Nicholas with furs). Belsnickle (as Pelznickel was known in the German-American dialect of Pennsylvania) was represented by adults who dressed in furry disguises (including false whiskers), visited while children were still awake, and put on a scary performance. Gifts found by children the next morning were credited to Christkindlein, who had come while everyone was asleep. Over time, the non-visible Christkindlein (whose name mutated into "Kriss Kringle") was overshadowed by the visible Belsnickle, and both of them became confused with St. Nicholas and the emerging figure of Santa Claus.

The Louis Prang 1886 Christmas card modern Santa Claus derived from these two images: St. Nicholas the elf-like gift bringer described by Moore, and a friendlier "Kriss Kringle" amalgam of the Christkindlein and Pelznickel figures. The man-sized version of Santa became the dominant image around 1841, when a Philadelphia merchant named J.W. Parkinson hired a man to dress in "Criscringle" clothing and climb the chimney outside his shop.

In 1863, a caricaturist for Harper's Weekly named Thomas Nast began developing his own image of Santa. Nast gave his figure a "flowing set of whiskers" and dressed him "all in fur, from his head to his foot." Nast's 1866 montage entitled "Santa Claus and His Works" established Santa as a maker of toys; an 1869 book of the same name collected new Nast drawings with a poem by George P. Haddon Sundblom illustration Webster that identified the North Pole as Santa's home.

The Santa Claus figure, although not yet standardized, was ubiquitous by the late 19th century. Santa was portrayed as both large and small; he was usually round but sometimes of normal or slight build; and he dressed in furs (like Belsnickle) or cloth suits of red, blue, green, or purple. A Boston printer named Louis Prang introduced the English custom of Christmas cards to America, and in 1885 he issued a card featuring a red-suited Santa. The chubby Santa with a red suit (like an "overweight superhero") began to replace the fur-dressed Belsnickle image and the multicolored Santas.

At the beginning of the 1930s, the burgeoning Coca-Cola company was still looking for ways to increase sales of their product during winter, then a slow time of year for the soft drink market. They turned to a talented commercial illustrator named Haddon Sundblom, who created a series of memorable drawings that associated the figure of a larger than life, red-and-white garbed Santa Claus with Coca-Cola. Coke's annual advertisements — featuring Sundblom-drawn Santas holding bottles of Coca-Cola, drinking Coca-Cola, receiving Coca-Cola as gifts, and especially enjoying Coca-Cola — became a perennial Christmastime feature which helped spur Coca-Cola sales throughout the winter (and produced the bonus effect of appealing quite strongly to children, an important segment of the soft drink market). The success of this advertising campaign has helped fuel the legend that Coca-Cola actually invented the image of the modern Santa Claus, decking him out in a red-and-white suit to promote the company colors — or that at the very least, Coca-Cola chose to promote the red-and-white version of Santa Claus over a variety of competing Santa figures in order to establish it as the accepted
image of Santa Claus.

So complete was the colonization of Christmas that Coke's Santa had elbowed aside all comers by the 1940s. He was the Santa of the 1947 movie Miracle on 34th Street just as he is the Santa of the recent film The Santa Clause. He is the Santa on Hallmark cards, he is the Santa riding the Norelco shaver each Christmas season, he is the department-store Santa, and he is even the Salvation Army Santa!

Long live Santa Claus!!!!!!!!!!!!

Monday, December 05, 2005

The Santa Within Me

Its Christmas season ...... Seasons Greetings to all.
i hope i can blog something related to Christmas , Santa Claus, etc etc in the coming days ....
so today am posting a story which i liked very much......

Author : Jay Frankston

The Santa Within Me

Theres nothing so beautiful as a childs dream of Santa Claus. I know; I often had that dream. But I am Jewish and my parents didnt celebrate Christmas. It was everyone elses holiday-a big party I wasnt invited to-and I felt left out. It wasnt toys I yearned for; it was Santa Claus and a Christmas tree. So when I got married and had children I decided to make up for what Id missed.

I started with a two-metre high tree, all decorated with lights and tinsel. The year was 1956, and we were living in New York City. My daughter Claire was only two, but her eyes sparkled as she smiled at the tree. It gave off warmth that filled every corner of our home. And it warmed my heart to see the glitter, cause now the party was at my house and everyone was invited.

But something was missing, something big and round and jolly, with jingle bells and a ho! ho! ho! So I bought some bright-red cloth and my wife made me a costume. Inflatable pillows filled out my skinny frame. A Santa mask, complete with whiskers and flowing white hair, made me look genuine enough to live up to a childs dream of old St Nick.

When I tired on the costume and looked in the mirror, there he was, big as life, the Santa of my childhood. I felt myself becoming Santa. I learned back and pushed out my pillow stomach. My voice got deeper and richer. Merry Christmas, everyone.

Claire was almost four and Danny not yet one when Santa first came to our house. They stood in awe and I saw in their eyes the fantasy and magic of what I had become. Santa was special. He was the personification of kindness and gentleness. He was a little scary, too.

Pathetic Appeals.
For two years I played Santa for my children, to their fright and delight and to my total enjoyment. And when the third year rolled around, the Santa in me had grown into a personality of his own and he needed more room. So, I sought to accommodate him by letting him do his thing for other children.

One day in late November, I saw this pretty little girl trying to reach a post-box slot, and saying, Mummy, are you sure Santa will get my letter? My mind began to whirl. All those children who write to Santa Claus, whatever becomes of their letters? A phone call to the postal service answered my question. The dead-letter office stored the thousands of letters in huge sacks.

The Santa in me went ho! ho! ho! and we headed to the post office. As I began rummaging through the letters, I become a little flustered at the demands and greed of so many spoilt children. Most of the letters were selfishly demanding. But, the Santa in me heard a voice from inside the post bags, and I continued searching until I came upon one letter that jarred me: Dear Santa, I am an 11-year-old girl and I have two little brothers and a baby sister. My father died last year and my mother is ill. I know there are many who are poorer than we are and I want nothing for myself, but could you send us a blanket cause Mummys cold at night. It was signed Suzy.

A chill went up my spine and the Santa in me cried, I hear you, Suzy. I dug deeper into those sacks and came up with another eight such letters, all calling out from the depths of poverty. I took them with me and went straight to the telegraph office and sent each child a telegram: Got your letter. Will be at your house. Wait for me. Santa.

I knew I could not possibly fill all the needs of these children, but if I could bring them hope, if I could make them fell that their cries did not go unheard.

I budgeted some money and went out and bought presents. On Christmas Day, my wife drove me around. My first call took me to the outskirts of the city. The letter from Peter Barski had read: Dear Santa, I am ten years old I am an only child. Weve just moved to this house and I have no friends yet. Im not sad because Im poor but because Im lonely. I know you have many people to see and you probably have no time for me. So I dont ask you to come to my house or bring anything. But could you send me a letter so I know you exist?

Dear Peter, my telegram began. Not only do I exist, but Ill be there on Christmas Day, Wait for me.

Peters house was wedged between two tall buildings. Its roof was of corrugated metal and it was more of a shack than a house. With a bag of toys slung over my shoulder, I walked up the steps and knocked. A heavy-set man opened the door. Boze moj, he said in astonishment-thats Polish for My God-and his hand went to his face. Please, he stuttered. The boy at mass. I go get him. Please wait, He threw on a coat and, assured that I would wait, ran down the street.

Wondrous Joy.
I stood there in front of the house, felling good. Then, across the street, I noticed another shack; through the window I could see little black faces peering at ae and tiny hands waving. The door opened shyly and some voices called out, Hiya, Santa.

I ho! ho! hoed my way over there, and a woman asked if Id come in, and I did. Inside were five children from one to seven years old. I spoke to them of Santa and the spirit of love, which is the spirit of Christmas. Then, seeing the torn Christmas wrappings, I asked if they liked what Santa had brought them. Each thanked me-for the woollen socks, the sweater and the warm underwear.

Didnt I bring you any toys? They shook their heads sadly. Ho ! ho! ho! I slipped up, I said, Well have to amend that. Knowing that we had extra toys in the car, I gave each child a toy. There was joy and laughter, but when Santa got ready to leave, I noticed one girl crying. I bent down and asked her, Whats the matter? Oh! Santa, she sobbed.

Im so happy. And the tears rolled from my eyes under the rubber mask. As I stepped out on the street, Panie, panie, prosze Sir, sir, please, I heard Mr. Barski say across the way. Peter just stood there and looked as Santa walked into the house. You came, he said. I wrote and .. You came.

When he recovered, I spoke with him about loneliness and friendship, and gave him a chemistry set and a basketball. He thanked me profusely. And his mother asked something of her husband in Polish. My parents were Polish, so I speak a little and understand a lot. From the North Pole, I said in Polish. She looked at me with astonishment. You speak Polish?Of course, I said. Santa speaks all languages. And I left them in joy and wonder.

Annual Duty.
The following year, when the momentum of Christmas began to build, I felt a stirring and I knew that the Santa within me was back. So I returned to the post office and to those heart-breaking letters. I made my rounds for 12 years in all, listening for the cries of children muffled in unopened envelopes, answering the call of as many as I could- frustrated at not being able to answer them all.

As time went on, word got out about Santa Claus and me, and manufacturers sent me cartons of toys. Having started with 20 children, I had wound up with 120, door to door, from one end of New York City to the other, from Christmas Eve through Christmas Day.

On my last call a few years ago, I knew there were four children in the family and I came prepared. The house was small and sparsely furnished. The youngsters had been waiting all day, staring at the telegram and repeating to their skeptical mother, Hell come, Mummy, hell come.

As I rang the bell, the door swings open and they all reach for my hands and hold on. Hiya, Santa. We just knew youd come.

A Friend.
I take each of them on my lap and tell stories of joy, hope and waiting, and give them each a toy. All the while theres this fifth child standing in the corner, a cute girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. I turn to her and say, Youre not part of this family, are you?

She shakes her head sadly and whispers, No. Whats your name? I ask.
How old are you?
Come, sit on my lap. She hesitates, but then comes over.
Did you get any toys for Christmas? I ask.
No, she says. I take out a big beautiful doll. Do you want this doll?
No, she says. And she leans over and whispers in my ear, Im Jewish.
I nudge her and whisper, Im Jewish, too.
Lisa grins from ear to ear. She takes the doll I hand her, hugs it and runs out.

I dont know which of us is happier-she or the Santa in me.

Merry Christmas, my friends.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Letter From Baby Girl

Dear Mommy,

I am in Heaven now, sitting on Jesus' lap.

He loves me and cries with me; for my heart has been broken.
I so wanted to be your little girl. I don't quite understand what has happened.
I was so excited when I began realizing my existence.
I was in a dark, yet comfortable place. I saw I had fingers and toes.
I was pretty far along in my developing, yet not near ready to leave my surroundings.
I spent most of my time thinking or sleeping. Even from my earliest days, I felt a special bonding between you and me.

Sometimes I heard you crying and I cried with you. Sometimes you would yell or scream, then cry.

I heard Daddy yelling back.
I was sad, and hoped you would be better soon.
I wondered why you cried so much. One day you cried almost all of the day.
I hurt for you. I couldn't imagine why you were so unhappy.

That same day, the most horrible thing happened. A very mean monster came into that warm, comfortable place I was in. I was so scared, I began screaming, but you never once tried to help me. Maybe you never heard me. The monster got closer and closer as I was screaming and screaming, "Mommy, Mommy, help me please; Mommy, help me."

Complete terror is all I felt.
I screamed and screamed until I thought I couldn't anymore.
Then the monster started ripping my arms off. It hurt so bad; the pain I can never explain. It didn't stop. Oh, how I begged it to stop. I screamed in horror as it ripped my leg off. Though I was in such complete pain, I was dying. I knew I would never see your face or hear you say how much you love me. I wanted to make all your tears go away. I had so many plans to make you happy. Now I couldn't; all my dreams were shattered. Though I was in utter pain and horror, I felt the pain of my heart breaking, above all.

I wanted more than anything to be your daughter. No use now, for I was dying a painful death. I could only imagine the terrible things that they had done to you. I wanted to tell you that I love you before I was gone, but I didn't know the words you could understand.

And soon, I no longer had the breath to say them; I was dead.

I felt myself rising. I was being carried by a huge angel into a big beautiful place. I was still crying, but the physical pain was gone.

The angel took me to Jesus and set me on His lap. He said He loved me, and He was my Father. Then I was happy. I asked Him what the thing was that killed me.

He answered, "Abortion. I am sorry, my child; for I know how it feels."

I don't know what abortion is;
I guess that's the name of the monster.
I'm writing to say that I love you and to tell you how much I wanted to be your little girl.
I tried very hard to live.
I wanted to live. I had the will, but I couldn't; the monster was too powerful.
It sucked my arms and legs off and finally got all of me. It was impossible to live.
I just wanted you to know I tried to stay with you.
I didn't want to die.

Also, Mommy, please watch out for that abortion monster.

Mommy, I love you and I would hate for you to go through the kind of pain I did.

Please be careful.


Your Baby Girl


Yes .. Abortion is killing ...... killing u r own child

Saturday, October 08, 2005

Blog Definitions

Below are some interesting Blog definitions ;) which i got from one of my friend.... its really funny ...i think the guy who wrote this was fedup with bloggers and blogging ;))

Blog: The word "blog" is literally shorthand for "boring;" a vulgar, overused word that strikes your ear with the dull thud of a cudgel to the soft spot of a child. It's an abbreviation used by journalism drop outs to give legitimacy to their shallow opinions and amateur photography that seems to be permanently stuck in first draft hell. Looking in the archives of the blogs, one would expect someone who has been at it for years to slowly hone their craft and improve their writing and photographs, since it's usually safe to assume that if someone does something long enough, he or she will eventually not suck at it. Even with lowered expectations, you'll get a shotgun blast of disappointment in your face.

Blogger: Term used to describe anyone with enough time or narcissism to document every tedious bit of minutia filling their uneventful lives. Possibly the most annoying thing about bloggers is the sense of self-importance they get after even the most modest of publicity. Sometimes it takes as little as a referral on a more popular blogger's website to set the lesser blogger's ego into orbit.

Blogging: If minds had a*****, blogging would be what your mind would do when it had to take a dump.

Blogged: What you call a trivial or largely inconsequential topic once bloggers have processed through every tired detail. For more on this, look into: every minor news story.

Blogosphere: The "blogosphere" is the new buzz word that has replaced "information super highway." It's what idiots like to call a collection of "blogs," otherwise known as a tragedy.

Blogomania: Like all other manias, except relating to the infatuation of blogs. It's one step above the more caustic phrase "blog-o-rama." Thankfully the latter hasn't caught on to the extent of its brethren, but that doesn't stop me from punching anyone who says it in the dick.

Blogroll: A long list of links that nobody will ever click on. Bloggers not only link to their friends and fellow bloggers, but their eventual goal is to link to every linkable document on the Internet. Most "blog rolls" are so full of links that it can bring even the mightiest of search engines to a crawl as they sort through all the frivolous bullshit bloggers link to.

Blogshare: An imaginary share of a blog's worth, which is ironic, since most blogs have an imaginary share of readers.

Blogstorm: A zany phrase news anchors like to use any time they think there's an abnormal amount of posts on blogs regarding any particular topic. Of course, they fail to consider any amount of posting to a blog is abnormal since people who are well adjusted usually have better things to do, i.e., work, or failing that, anything else.

Blog Swarm: Stupid.

Blogging community: Losers, goths, bedwetters, and journalism dropouts.

Blawg: Some prick thought it would be clever to spell "blog" phonetically using the word "law" in the title. It's a phrase used to describe blogs primarily dealing with the law and legal issues. Wow, real clever, dipshit. How did you come up with that one?

Blogumentary: There was recently a bit of a feud regarding this word among two bloggers. Apparently some guy decided that they had exclusive right to use the word, not realizing that similar words (docudrama, dramedy, rockumentary, etc) have been free to use for all people since you can't just copyright an entire genre, and more importantly, that it's stupid. Who cares? Blogumentary? Really?

Blogebrity: Wow, guess what this one stands for? Too easy. Hey, anyone can do it: take a blogger who's a chef, and you get: BLEF. A blogger who's a dentist? BENTIST. A female blogger with an itch? You guessed it: a BITCH.

Photoblog: Photoblogs make me yearn for the day when cameras weren't digital, film cost money, and it took time to develop pictures. I remember back when it wasn't easy for any random asshole with a camera to go out take countless pictures of nothing. Nothing is exactly what these pictures are of. No focus, no theme, no message, no posturing. Just countless pictures of Denny's at 2 AM. We don't care that you went to Denny's. You're not an artist. You're not deep. Get a new hobby.

Podcast: Someone had the revolutionary idea of taking a compressed audio file and putting it online. Yeah, doesn't sound so sexy when I describe it for what it is, does it you morons? It would have been a great idea if streaming audio wasn't already around for over a decade before the word "podcast" entered the lexicon. Man, I can't stand the word "lexicon." Talking about all these shitty words has made me start using shitty words. I'm so pissed, I just slammed the door shut on some kid's nuts.

Podcasting: It's snob for "streaming audio."

Podcatcher: Any idiot with an iPod, web browser, or ears.

Warblog: A blog that primarily deals with war. Filled with whiny blow hards who are fixated on their stubborn ideas and conspiracy theories. For example, there are countless hours pissed away by conspiracy theorists who think the WTC towers were demolished by bombs planted by the government. These armchair engineers write endlessly about how the physics of the collapse was impossible, how the temperature wasn't hot enough to melt steel, and how the planes were carrying missiles. Of course, the one thing they don't postulate is a REASON.

Warblogger: Like all other bloggers, an idiot. Usually a self-righteous prick with a political axe to grind. Tragically, these dullards fail to realize that nobody cares what they think. And no, the 2 comments per post you get on average doesn't count. Get some real opinions, then maybe you'll get some real feedback.

Warblogging: The act of writing amateur, unfounded, and borderline illiterate opinions about war and war strategy.

Travelblog: Guess work

Xanga: The bottom of the barrel of blogs. It's incredible that the user base is able to write so much, yet say so little. I have to give a bit of kudos though, considering the fact that many of the users have the reading comprehension of a bowl full of pubes.

LiveJournal: Here's a little trick you can use to find out whether a link someone sends you is worth checking. If it contains the words "live, journal," or any combination thereof, you can safely ignore the link without missing out on anything.

Blogspot: Equivalent of Yahoo geocities. Once you create it. You will never visit it again.

In observation of all these shitty phrases and acronyms, I've decided to coin another phrase that can be used for "blog" called: comment-log or CLOG for short. What users do is labor over documenting their inconsequential lives, trivializing man's greatest invention, the microprocessor, until the Internet is so CLOGGED that commerce comes to a screeching halt. Anyone contributing to the congestion would be known as a CLOGGER. I hate blogs.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

God's will and guidance

There is a story I've read about two men who were walking in a garden one day.The younger one was a bit insecure about God's will for his life and what exactly he was supposed to do next and he asks the older for guidance.The older person hands him a rosebud and asks him to gently open the petals without tearing any.Though a bit confused,he obeys and though he was careful ,he couldn't open the petals without tearing.It wasn't long before he realized how impossible it was to do so. Noticing the younger ones inability to unfold the rosebud while keeping it intact, his friend began to recite the following poem...

It is only a tiny rosebud,
A flower of God's design;
But I cannot unfold the petals
With these clumsy hands of mine.
The secret of unfolding flowers
Is not known to such as I.
GOD opens this flower so sweetly,
When in my hands they fade and die.
If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
This flower of God's design,
Then how can I think I have wisdom
To unfold this life of mine?
So I'll trust in Him for His leading
Each moment of every day.
I will look to him for His guidance
Each step of the pilgrim way.
The pathway that lies before me,
Only my Heavenly Father knows.
I'll trust Him to unfold the moments,
Just as He unfolds the rose...

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Can anyone beat this resume

EDUCATION /Qualification:

Stood first in BA (Hons), Economics, Punjab University, Chandigarh, 1952; Stood first in MA (Economics), Punjab University, Chandigarh, 1954;
Wright's Prize for distinguished performance at St John's College, Cambridge, 1955 and 1957;
Wrenbury scholar, University of Cambridge,1957;
DPhil (Oxford), DLitt (Honoris Causa); PhD thesis on India's export competitiveness

OCCUPATION /Teaching Experience:

Professor (Senior lecturer, Economics, 1957-59;
Reader, Economics, 1959-63;
Professor, Economics, Punjab University, Chandigarh, 1963-65;
Professor,International Trade, Delhi School of Economics,University of Delhi,1969-71;
Honorary professor, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, 1976 and Delhi School of Economics, University of Delhi,1996 and Civil Servant.

Working Experience/ POSITIONS:

1971-72: Economic advisor, Ministry of foreign trade
1972-76: Chief economic advisor, Ministry of finance
1976-80: Director, Reserve Bank of India; Director, Industrial Development Bank of India; Alternate governor for India, Board of governors, Asian Development Bank ; Alternate governor for India, Board of governors, IBRD
November 1976 - April 1980: Secretary, ministry of finance (Department of economic affairs); Member, finance, Atomic Energy Commission; Member, finance, Space Commission
April 1980 - September 15, 1982: Member-secretary, Planning Commission
1980-83: Chairman, India Committee of the Indo-Japan joint study committee September 16, 1982 - January 14, 1985: Governor, Reserve Bank of India
1982-85: Alternate Governor for India, Board of governors, International Monetary Fund
1983-84: Member, economic advisory council to the Prime Minister
1985: President, Indian Economic Association
January 15, 1985 - July 31, 1987: Deputy Chairman, Planning Commission
August 1, 1987 - November 10, 1990: Secretary-general and commissioner, south commission, Geneva

December 10, 1990 - March 14, 1991: Advisor to the Prime Minister on economic affairs
March 15, 1991 - June 20, 1991: Chairman, UGC
June 21, 1991 - May 15, 1996: Union finance minister
October 1991: Elected to Rajya Sabha from Assam on Congress ticket
June 1995: Re-elected to Rajya Sabha
1996 onwards: Member, Consultative Committee for the ministry of finance
August 1, 1996 - December 4, 1997: Chairman, Parliamentary standing committee on commerce
March 21, 1998 onwards: Leader of the Opposition, Rajya Sabha
June 5, 1998 onwards: Member, committee on finance
August 13, 1998 onwards: Member, committee on rules
Aug 1998-2001: Member, committee of privileges 2000 onwards: Member, executive committee, Indian parliamentary group
June 2001: Re-elected to Rajya Sabha
Aug 2001 onwards: Member, general purposes committee


India's Export Trends and Prospects for Self-Sustained Growth -Clarendon Press, Oxford University, 1964;
also published a large number of articles in various economic journals.


Adam Smith Prize, University of Cambridge, 1956
Padma Vibhushan, 1987
Euro money Award, Finance Minister of the Year, 1993;
Asia money Award, Finance Minister of the Year for Asia, 1993 and 1994


1966: Economic Affairs Officer
1966-69: Chief, financing for trade section, UNCTAD
1972-74: Deputy for India in IMF Committee of Twenty on International Monetary Reform
1977-79: Indian delegation to Aid-India Consortium Meetings
1980-82: Indo-Soviet joint planning group meeting
1982: Indo-Soviet monitoring group meeting
1993: Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting Cyprus 1993: Human Rights World Conference, Vienna


Gymkhana Club, New Delhi;
Life Member, India International Centre, New Delhi.

Name: Dr Manmohan Singh

DOB: September 26, 1932

Place of Birth: Gah (West Punjab)

Father: S. Gurmukh Singh

Mother: Mrs Amrit Kaur

Married on: September 14, 1958

Wife: Mrs Gursharan Kaur

Children: Three daughters

Indian Prime Minister seems to be the most qualified PM all over the world. :))

Saturday, September 17, 2005

onam - 16th september (Friday = Holiday)

4:00 am ..yes early morning flat mate unni chettan woke up and prepared payasam .. another guy had promised that he will call everyone at 5:00 so that we can start preparing dishes early morning itself .. he kept his promise ..he called everyone and reminded us of the promise we did ..BTW after reminding us he went back to sleep ;) too i ;)) .. ..actualy i want to help them by cooking "morucurry" etc etc ;)). but when i felt that they were very serious in preparing the best "onam sadhya" ..i dont want to spoil it i had to be happy with cutting vegetables ...

around 12:30 PM everything was ready ...

onam sadhya items -- sambhar, moru curry, kootucurry, pachadi, paripu curry, avial, pavayka thoran, beans thoran, pappadam, adapradhaman(paysam), pazam, achar, moru, inchicurry, nadan kuthari choru.
and everything was served in "vazayila"

NB:- these entire onam items was prepared by my flat mates without any help from any ladies..(and some said its because of that the sadya items was very tasty )... "Nalapachakam" :) ;)

Friday, September 16, 2005

onam - 15th september

until 2:00 pm i was in my office ...after that i went to my room ... ..boring.. nothing to do other than watch a moive.. ..took "natturajavu"(movie) .. ..wasted around 2:30 hours in front of TV ..feel irritated whenever mohanlal says "ninakonnum ariyilla karanam nee kuttiyanu" (pathetic dialouge, too bad that an actor like he is becoming a type..)... evening i went to my friends flat..there we had "kaya varthathu", "sarkaravaratti" etc etc ...


Thursday, September 15, 2005

വള്ളംകളിയും പുലിക്കളിയും

ഒാണമായിട്ടു എന്താ പരിപാടി എന്നു ചിലർ ചോദിക്കുന്നു ... ഒരു ദ്വീപാകുന്ന ഈ മരുഭുമിയിൽ ഒാണമായിട്ടു ചില ദ്വീപുകളിൽ (ബാചെലർ അക്കൊമൊഡേഷൻസ്‌) ഒരു പരിപാടി കാണും ....വള്ളംകളി മത്സരം..ചിലപൊൾ പുലിക്കളിയും ഉണ്ടാകാറുണ്ട്‌...പല വലിപ്പത്തിലും, വിലയിലും , നിറത്തിലും, രുചിയിലും ഉള്ള വള്ളങ്ങൾ ....5 ദിനാർ(എകദേശം 500 രൂപ) മുതൽ 100 ദിനാർ (എകദേശം 12,000 രൂപ) വരെ വിലയുള്ള വള്ളങ്ങൽ ... സദ്യ ഉണ്ടിലെങ്കിലും, പായസം വെചില്ലെങ്കിലും, പൂക്കളമിടാൻ പറ്റിയില്ലെങ്കിലും , മാവേലി വന്നിലെങ്കിലും ... വള്ളംകളിയും അതിനു ശേഷം ഒരു പുലിക്കളിയും മികവാറും ഉണ്ടാവും ...പുലിക്കളി പല ടൈപ്പ്‌ ഉണ്ട്‌ ..ചില പുലികൾ വള്ളംകളി കഴിഞ്ഞാൽ വയലെന്റാവും ..ചിലർ സയലെന്റാവും ...മറ്റു ചിലർ ഡാൻസ്‌ ചെയ്യും, പാട്ടു പാടും ....ഇനി ചില പുലികൾ വള്ളംകളിക്കു ശേഷം 'വാൾ' പ്രെയേൊഗവും നടത്തും.

ഈ വള്ളംകളിയിലും പുലിക്കളിയിലും പങ്കെടുകുത്തില്ലെങ്കിൽ ചിലപൊൾ പ്രെശനം ആകാറുണ്ട്‌.. .വള്ളംകളിക്കു ശേഷം കാലിയായ വള്ളങ്ങൾ മാറ്റിയിടണ്ടതും, വള്ളംകളിക്കു ഉപയൊഗിച്ച തുയകളും മറ്റും കയുകി വെയ്കെണ്ടതും വള്ളംകളിയിൽ പങ്കെടുക്കാത്ത, പുലിക്കളി കളിക്കാത്ത ആളുകളുടെ പണി അയി മാറാറുണ്ട്‌...ചില പുലിക്കളി കാണുമ്പൊൾ തോക്കുമായി നടക്കുന്ന വേട്ടകാരൻ അയി മാറിയാലേൊ എന്നും പലർക്കും തൊന്നാറുമുണ്ട്‌....

മലയാളികളുടെ ആഘോഷം പലപൊയും മോഹൻലാൽ ഒരു പരസയ്ത്തിൽ പറഞ്ഞ പൊലെ ആകുന്നു ...
"വള്ളംകളിയും പുലിക്കളിയും ഇല്ലതെ മലയാളിക്കു എന്തു ആഘോഷം"

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

എന്റെ ഹൃദയം നിറഞ്ഞ ഒണാശംസകൾ നേരുന്നു

തിരുവാതിരയും ...



അടിപൊളി ഒരു സദ്യയും...

സമൃിധിയുടെ, ഒാണക്കാലം...

എന്റെ ഹൃദയം നിറഞ്ഞ ഓണാശംസകൾ നേരുന്നു


Monday, September 12, 2005

Truth and Fame

"Asthiram Jeevana Loke
Asthiram Yauvanam Dhanam
Asthiram Dhaaraa Puthraadi
Sathyam Keerthi Dwayam Sthiram"

Adi Sankara

Life in this world is not a permanent one ...even your youth, money, wife and kids are not permanent... its only Truth and Fame which will exist for ever.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

മലയാള കലെൻഡർ അനുസരിച്ചുള്ള ദിവസങ്ങൾ (Malayalam Days)

മലയാള കലെൻഡർ അനുസരിച്ചുള്ള ദിവസങ്ങൾ (Malayalam Days)

1. അത്തം
2. ചിത്തിര
3. ചോതി
4. വിശാകം
5. അനിഴം
6. ത്രിക്കേട്ട
7. മൂലം
8. പൂരാടം
9. ഉത്രാടം
10. തിരുവോണം
11. അവിട്ടം
12. ചതയം
13. പൂരുരുട്ടാതി
14. ഉത്രട്ടാതി
15. രേവതി
16. അശ്വതി
17. ഭരണി
18. കാർത്തിക
19. രോഹിണി
20. മകയിരം
21. തിരുവാതിര
22. പുണർതം
23. പൂയം
24. ആയില്യം
25. മകം
26. പൂരം
27. ഉത്രം

എന്റെ നാളു പുണർതം ആയതു എങ്ങനെ എന്നു ഇപ്പൊഴല്ലെ മനസിലായതു .. :)

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Is this True



In Mumbai

In Mumbai

I couldn't stop making this comparison also.

Time US Meteorological Department got to give warning to its citizens...48 Hours
Time Indian Meteorological Department got to give warning to its citizens...0 Hours

inches of rain in new orleans due to hurricane katrina... 18
inches of rain in mumbai (July 27th).... 37.1

population of new orleans... 484,674
population of mumbai.... more than a million

deaths in new orleans within 48 hours of katrina...100
deaths in mumbai within 48hours of rain.. 37.

number of people to be evacuated in new orleans... entire city..wohh
number of people evacuated in mumbai...10,000

Cases of shooting and violence in new orleans...Countless
Cases of shooting and violence in mumbai.. NONE

Time taken for US army to reach new orleans... 48hours
Time taken for Indian army and navy to reach mumbai...12hours

Status 48hours later...New Orleans is still waiting for relief, army and electricity
Status 48hours later... Mumbai is back on its feet and is business is as usual's most developed nation
India...third world country..

oopss...did i get the last fact wrong???

am sure if it was a hurracaine which brought the flood in Mumbai, India will still manage it better than US ...the news which i hear from US news agency shows how pathetic is the situation there a mighty ecnomic and militry power of the world..US could have done much much better ..too bad that the disaster management/homeland security people took everything very lightly...

Dear Dubya ..u need to do moreeee.......

Well Done Mumbaikars

Monday, September 05, 2005

India's different cultures by the numbers

For long, India's colonial rulers divided the country's population by the numbers. And as current-day politicians continue with that unholy task, here is a shortcut to make their work easier.

Here's distinguishing India's different cultures by the numbers:

One Tamilian is a fugitive sandalwood smuggler.
Two Tamilians is a cavery water squad.
Three Tamilians is a classical music school.
Four Tamilians is a Jayalalitha fan club.

One Andhraite is a cycle-rickshaw driver.
Two Andhraites is a spice shop.
Three Andhraites is a Naxalite outfit.
Four Andhraites is the Telugu film industry.

One Bengali is a rosagulla shop.
Two Bengalis is a black-and-white movie.
Three Bengalis is a Mohun Bagan support group.
Four Bengalis is a Marxist movement.

One Rajasthani is a cattle-seller.
Two Rajasthanis is a mason.
Three Rajasthanis is a puppet show.
Four Rajasthanis is a folk dance-drama.

One Goan is Remo Fernandes.
Two Goans is a Feni distillery.
Three Goans is a football club.
Four Goans is an all-night-long beach party.

One Mangalorean is a supari seller.
Two Mangaloreans can't stand one another.
Three Mangaloreans is an Udupi restaurant.
Four Mangaloreans is a fanatical Konkani Sabha.

One Bombayite is a hawker.
Two Bombayites is a film industry.
Three Bombayites is a slum.
Four Bombayites is the rush-hour train crowd.

One Maharashtrian is a bus conductor.
Two Maharashtrians is a kabaddi match.
Three Maharashtrians is a Ganpati procession.
Four Maharashtrians is a Shiv Sena Shakha.

One Gujarati is a share broker in a Mumbai train.
Two Gujaratis is the total chatter in a Mumbai train.
Three Gujaratis is a rummy game in a Mumbai train.
Four Gujaratis is a dandiya-raas session all night long.

One Sardarji is truck driver.
Two Sardarjis is santa singh and banta singh.
Three Sardarjis is roadside dhaba.
Four Sardarjis are in army.

One Bihari is Laloo Prasad Yadav.
Two Biharis is a booth-capturing squad.
Three Biharis is a caste killing.
Four Biharis is the total literate population of the state.

One Bhaiyya is a milkman.
Two Bhaiyyas is a chanawala (or panipuri wala).
Three Bhaiyyas is a temple-destruction squad.
Four Bhaiyyas is a halwai shop.
(And 12 Bhaiyyas is one SMALL family).

One Kashmiri is a boatman.
Two Kashmiris is a carpet factory.
Three Kashmiris is a tourist agency.
Four Kashmiris is shouting some slogans for no reason.

One Kannadiga is a coffee estate.
Two Kannadigas is a Udupi restaurant.
Three Kannadigas is a pepper powder factor.
Four Kannadigas is an anti-Cauvery squad.

One Parsi is a sentence punctuated with BC's and MC's.
Two Parsis is a doctor and a lawyer.
Three Parsis is a 75 year old man and his two unmarried sisters.
Four Parsis is half their remaining population.

One Malayalee is a narial-pani shop.
Two Malayalees is a boat race.
Three Malayalees is a Gulf job racket.
Four Malayalees makes 40% population in Gulf.

I blogged this just for fun...and is not intented to hurt anyones pride or feelings

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Heart touching story ....

Here is a heart touching story ....

A true, touching love story that happened in the rural area of India. The headman of a big tribe had a beautiful daughter, who fell in love with a boy who was an ordinary poor person. When the people of the tribe came to knowabout their love, they did not like it at all, and so began to protest about it. Now it happened that the two lovers left their homes for a happy future.

The people of the tribe started searching for the two lovers but they could not find them. At last, they accepted their love and asked them in a newspaper to come back. The people said that if u both come back we will marry u, we accept that u loved each other truly. So in this way their love won and the age old attitude of the tribe took a beating. The couple went to the city for shopping for the wedding. He was wearing a white traditional dress, and was crossing the road when a car came and hit him and he died on the spot. The girl lost her senses.After a long time she recovered and accepted that her love has died. One night she was sleeping in her home with her family. Her mother had dream in which she saw a fairy.

That fairy asked her mother to wash the blood spots of the guy from her daughter's clothes as soon as possible. But her mother ignored the dream. Next night the father saw the same dream, he also ignored it. Then when the girl had the same dream the next night, she woke up and told her mother about the dream. Her mother asked her to wash the clothes on which there were blood spots. She washed the spots but some remained. Next night she again had the same dream she again washed the spots but
some still remained.

Next night she again had the same dream and this time that fairy gave her last warning to wash the blood spots, else something terrible will happen. This time the girl tried her best to wash the spots, the clothes tore, but some spots still remained.

In the evening on same day when she was alone, someone knocked the door, when she opened the door she saw the fairy at the door. She got very scared and fainted. The fairy woke her up..., and gave her an object, That awe-struck girl asked "what is this..? to which the fairy replied : ......."kaise bhi daag ho, jaise bhi daag ho........Surf Excel hai na..."

I know what u are feeling now...

But don't look for me... I'm searching for the person who emailed this to me... I know you want to kill me for this!!! ....I felt the same when i read it!!

Saturday, August 27, 2005

Your friends know you are a Malayalee when..

You are staying outside India, and your friends know you are a Malayalee when..

1, You have rocks, sticks, leaves and strange-smelling, unknown substances in your kitchen for use as medicine or in your dinner.

2,You owns butcher knives bigger than your head.

3, Lipton Tea is bought by the bulk, (especially when there is a sale for it.)

4, Your brothers and sisters names rhymes or have the some letter to start with as yours.(ex:- siji , biji ligi , tiji ....)

5, You explain to everyone, "That funny name is my house name(family name)/Caste name." (applies to mee )

6, You hide the fact that you have a boyfriend/girlfriend.

7, Your North Indian friends mention a Hindi movie, you say that Malayalam version was the original one and that it was better. (i have said it several times..and even fights with my northy friends)

8, "Patti", "Thendi" and "Potten" are commonly used expressions of insult. and u r non-mallu friends says it more often than you.

9, You create a name for yahoo, hotmail, IRC or AOL chat rooms it's always some name like "Thenga", "manga" ,"Pichati", or names of film charcters or TV serial charcters.(ex : kadmattathu kathanar, kayamkulam kochunni, udayon etc etc)

10, Whenever a foreigner talks about India, u tell him that u should go to kerala, which is gods own country ..and u will give him all the statistical 100% literacy, greeenary, backwaters etc etc ...and sometimes a word of caution that north india is not good as kerala

and lot more to come .....

I blogged this just for fun...and is not intented to hurt any malayalees pride or feelings

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Gulf visa

In a poor zoo of India, a lion was so much frustrated as it was offered not more than 1 kg meat a day. The lion thought its prayers were answered when one of Gulf countries Zoo manager visits the zoo and requests the zoo management to shift the lion to the Gulf Zoo.

The lion was so happy and started thinking of a central A/c environment, a goat or two every day and a residence permit also.

On it's first day after arrival, the lion was offered a big bag, sealed very nicely for breakfast.

The lion opened it quickly but was shocked to see that it contained few peanuts. Then the lion thought that may be they cared too much for him as they were worried about his stomach as he had recently shifted from India.

The next day the same thing happened.

On the third day again the same food bag of peanuts was delivered.

The lion was so furious, it stopped the delivery boy and blasted at him,
"Don't you know I am the lion...king of the Jungle..., what's wrong with your management? What nonsense is this? Why are you delivering peanuts to me?"

The delivery boy politely said, "Sir, I know you are the king of the jungle but ......err....... didn't you know that you have been brought here on a 'monkey's visa."?

Saturday, August 20, 2005

Daddy's Day (poem) realy touched my heart

Her hair up in a pony tail,
her favorite dress tied with a bow
Today was Daddy's Day at school,
and she couldn't wait to go

But her mommy tried to tell her,
that she probably should stay home
Why the kids might not understand,
if she went to school alone

But she was not afraid;
she knew just what to say
What to tell her classmates,
on this Daddy's Day

But still her mother worried,
for her to face this day alone
And that was why once again,
she tried to keep her daughter home

But the little girl went to school,
eager to tell them all
About a dad she never sees,
a dad who never calls

There were daddies along the wall in back,
for everyone to meet
Children squirming impatiently,
anxious in their seats

One by one the teacher called,
a student from the class
To introduce their daddy,
as seconds slowly passed

At last the teacher called her name,
every child turned to stare
Each of them were searching,
for a man who wasn't there

"Where's her daddy at?"
she heard a boy call out
"She probably doesn't have one,"
another student dared to shout

And from somewhere near the back,
she heard a daddy say
"Looks like another deadbeat dad,
too busy to waste his day."

The words did not offend her,
as she smiled at her friends
And looked back at her teacher,
who told her to begin

And with hands behind her back,
slowly she began to speak
And out from the mouth of a child,
came words incredibly unique

"My Daddy couldn't be here,
because he lives so far away
But I know he wishes he could
be with me on this day

And though you cannot meet him,
I wanted you to know
All about my daddy,
and how much he loves me so

He loved to tell me stories,
he taught me to ride my bike
He surprised me with pink roses,
and taught me to fly a kite

We used to share fudge sundaes,
and ice cream in a cone
And though you cannot see him,
I'm not standing all alone

'Cause my daddy's always with me,
even though we are apart
I know because he told me,
he'll forever be here in my heart"

With that her little hand reached up,
and lay across her chest
Feeling her own heartbeat,
beneath her favorite dress

And from somewhere in the crowd of dads,
her mother stood in tears
Proudly watching her daughter,
who was wise beyond her years

For she stood up for the love
of a man not in her life
Doing what was best for her,
doing what was right

And when she dropped her hand back down,
staring straight into the crowd
She finished with a voice so soft,
but its message clear and loud

"I love my daddy very much,
he's my shining star,
And if he could he'd be here,
but heaven's just too far,

But sometimes when I close my eyes,
it's like he never went away."
And then she closed her eyes,
and saw him there that day

And to her mother's amazement,
she witnessed with surprise
A room full of daddies and children,
all starting to close their eyes

Who knows what they saw before them,
who knows what they felt inside
Perhaps for merely a second,
they saw him at her side.

"I know you're with me Daddy,"
to the silence she called out
And what happened next made believers,
of those once filled with doubt

Not one in that room could explain it,
for each of their eyes had been closed
But there placed on her desktop,
was a beautiful fragrant pink rose

And a child was blessed, if only a moment, by the
love of her shining bright star
And given the gift of believing,
that heaven is never too far.


I dont know who wrote this poem .... when i read it for the first time ,tears was rolling down my realy touched my heart..

am not attaching any picture with this poem ... becasue am sure when u read this poem u can see her in your mind ..

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

ഇന്നു ചിങ്ങം ഒന്ന് .......

മലയാള മാസങ്ങൾ ഏതൊക്കെ എന്നു അറിയാത്ത എന്നെ പൊലെ ഒള്ളവർക്കു വേണ്ടി......

1. ചിങ്ങം
2. കന്നി
3. തുലാം
4. വൃഷ്ചികം
5. ധനു
6. മകരം
7. കുംഭം
8. മീനം
9. മെടം
10. ഇടവം
11. മിധുനം
12. കർകിടകം

Monday, August 15, 2005

Independence Day Wishes

15th August

The Indian Independence Day. A great struggle was raised by the people of India to gain this freedom. Let us never forget their struggle and dedication to build up a free India.

Independence Day Wishes

Saturday, August 13, 2005

Have you got a sunshine smile.....

Have you got a sunshine smile..
Have you got a sunshine smile.....
Where ever you may go...
What god goodness your may do...
Have you got a sunshine smile...

Have you got a sunshine Laugh..
Have you got a sunshine Laugh.....
Where ever you may go...
What god goodness your may do...
Have you got a sunshine Laugh...

Have you got a sunshine "haha haha haaaa" .....
Have you got a sunshine "haha haha haaaa" .....
haha haha haaaa ... haha haha haaaa...
haha haha haaaa haaaa.. haha haha haaaa...

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Indian Scenario

Scenario 1
Two guys are fighting and a third guy comes along, then a fourth and they start arguing about who's right.
You are in Kolkatta.

Scenario 2
Two guys are fighting and a third guy comes along, sees them and walks on.
That's Mumbai.

Scenario 3
Two guys are fighting and a third guy comes along & tries to make peace.The first two get together & beat him up.
That's Delhi.

Scenario 4
Two guys are fighting. Both of them take time out and call their friends on mobile. Now 50 guys are fighting.
You are in Gujarat.

Scenario 5
Two guys are fighting. A crowd gathers to watch. A guy comes along and sells "Feni", now everybody is fighting.
That's Goa.

Scenario 6
Two guys are fighting. A crowd gathers to watch. A guy comes along and quietly says that "AMMA" doesn't like all this non sense --- Peace comes in.
That's Chennai.

Scenario 7
Two guys are fighting. A crowd gathers to watch. A guy comes along and opens a tea shop near to it.
That's Hyderabad.

Scenario 8
Two guys are fighting and a third guy comes in .He writes a software program to stop the fight but the intensity of fight increases because of a bug in the program.
That's Bangalore !!!!

Scenario 9
Two guys are fighting. A crowd gathers to watch. Someone calls police. Police comes and starts lathi charging all the people crowded there. Someone throws stones to police. Police throws it back. Some people are arrested. Damages to the shops nearby. Next day, harthal declared by one party, so holiday declared by government.
You are in Thiruvananthapuram, the capital city of Kerala.


This is a joke :D..and is not intented to hurt anyones feelings or pride.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

With love from Lissy Mol

A family in Kerala was puzzled when the coffin of their mother arrived from United States. The Mother was in United States to visit her daughter.It was sent by one of the daughters. The dead body was so tightly squeezed inside the coffin, with no space left in it! When they opened the lid, they found a letter on top, which read as follows:-

With love from Lissy Mol

Dear brothers & sisters, I am sending our mothers body to you, since it was her wish that she should be cremated in the Forane Church cemetery. Sorry I could come along because nurses' salary is going to increase from next month so I doubt I will get it if I am not here.

You will find inside the coffin, Amma's body, 12 cans of cheese,10 packets of chocolates & 4 packets of badam. Please divide these among all of you. On the sides of her head there is a tin each of Nido & Tang. On Amma's feet you will find a new pair of Reebok shoes (size 10) for Biju. Also, there are 2 pairs of shoes for Lijju's & Ammani's sons. Hope the sizes are correct.

Amma is wearing 6 American T-shirts. The large size is for Biju & the others are for Tomy & Suresh. The 2 new jeans Amma is wearing are for the boys. The Swiss watch that Manju wanted is on Amma's left wrist.

Tangamma Aunty, Amma is wearing the necklace, earrings & ring that you asked for. Please take them. The 6 white cotton socks that Amma is wearing must be divided between Pradeep & Nikhil.

In Amma's pockets there are about 25 envelopes that are to be posted immediately. Some are drafts from the Exchange Company. Those marked "By hand" are to be hand delivered. (These letters are from my friends in the hostel-pisukkikal thanne enthu cheyyam?) and there is Rosamma's wedding album I brought to show (off) my friends in hospital on my last visit. Also, you will find some syringes & some other medicines which I don't know what for. But still I am sending them. Give it to the neighbours or Shanthamma, ok?

Jonny chettanu joli onnum ayilla. Prarthikkanam ketto! Ellavareyum orthu kondu shesham nerritu kanumbol.

Lissy Mol.

Saturday, August 06, 2005

Trip to Holiday Villa

Yesterday me and my friends went for a picnic a place called Holiday villa ... and it was like a gathering than a picnic..

At 10:00 am everybody gathered near Bahrain Finance in gudaibiya. we had already planned that , Bahrain finanace will be our meeting point. But few of them arrived around 10:15 only (including me ;;) after all we all are very good at timekeeping. there was six cars altogehter and we all reached Holiday villa withn 30 minutes....

and there was some games and all, in which everybody actively particpated... actualy it was very nice to see everybody getting involved in all of the games with real sportsman spirit. we realy enjoyed it.

and the lunch was also awosme too..with fried rice, chicken in masala, mutton etc etc ....

after lunch there was few more games ...and after that it was the swimming time ... people like me who dont know to swim was very much afraid to go deeper inside the swimming pool .. :(( .to tell u frankly most of the time me and some of my friends was in the kids pool :D ...nanakedu ...

anwyay one day i will definitely study to swim ... :(

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

കട്ടക്കയം ക്രൈസ്തവ കാളിദാസന്‍

"പൊട്ടകുളത്തില് ‍ പുളവന്‍ ഫണീന്ദ്രന്‍
കാട്ടാളരില്‍ കാപ്പിരി കാമധെവന്‍
തട്ടിന്‍ പുറത്തെലി മ്രുഗാദി രാജന്‍
കട്ടക്കയം ക്രൈസ്തവ കാളിദാസന്‍"

എന്തയലും സാറാ ജോസഫ്‌ , സക്കറിയ, അരുന്ധതി റോയ്‌, ചെമ്മനം ചാക്കൊ ഒക്കെ ഒള്ളതു നന്നായീ ......ഇല്ലെങ്കില്‍ ഈ പാട്ടിനു ഇപ്പൊഴും പ്രെസക്തി ഉണ്ടായെനെ

Saturday, July 30, 2005

Hare and a Tortoise (2005 version)

A hare and a tortoise live in Kerala
They are good friends and like all good friends , sometimes have a dig at each other.

One day , in a light mood the hare ridiculed the tortoise for his slow pace. The tortoise reacted by challenging the hare for a race between "Angamali" and "Ernakulam" (places in Kerala). On the appointed day and time the two assemble at the starting line and start the race. The hare dashes off the start line like a flash. After crossing the midway mark, he feels that a short nap would do no harm. The short nap turned out to be a bit too long. Meanwhile the tortoise crosses the hare and reaches the destination. The hare wakes from the slumber,oblivious of the time, and dashes off towards the finish. To his dismay he finds the tortoise having a nap at the finish line.
The moral of the story is "Slow and steady wins the race."

The story does not end here.....
The hare goes home and soon understands that complacency and overconfidence were the reasons of his defeat. He vows not to repeat the mistake again. He then invites the tortoise for another race. The tortoise agrees to his friend's request.They meet at the appointed day and time at the starting point. The race starts. This time the hare dashes off to the finishing line without taking a break and wins the race comfortably.
The moral of the story is "Fast and consistent will always beat the slow and steady. "

If you have two people in your organisation, one slow, methodical and reliable, and the other fast and still reliable at what he does, the fast and reliable chap will consistently climb the organisational ladder faster than the slow, methodical chap. It's good to be slow and steady; but it's better to be fast and reliable.

The story does not end here.....
The tortoise goes home and thinks hard. He was aware that the hare cannot be defeated in speed. He then ponders over his core competence. At last he finds a solution and invites the hare to another race. This time the course is changed. It is from "Angamaly" to "Perumbavoor." The hare agrees. At the appointed day and time the two meet at the start line and the race begins. The hare dashes off like a flash. Soon he arrives at the banks of river "Periyar" and is overwhelmed by a sense of dejection as he did not know how to swim. The tortoise comes to the bank , looks at the hare with sympathy and coolly gets into the water. He swims to the other side goes to "Perumbavoor" and comes back.
The moral of the story is "Core competence wins the race."

In an organisation, if you are a good speaker, make sure you create opportunities to give presentations that enable the senior management to notice you. If your strength is analysis, make sure you do some sort of research, make a report and send it upstairs. Working to your strengths will not only get you noticed but will also create opportunities for growth and advancement.

Both the friends decide it was enough of racing against each other. Why not think hard and find a way by which they together could travel from "Angamali" to "Perumbavoor" at the minimum possible time. At the end of a brain storming session they come out with a solution and decide to try out the next morning. At the appointed time they meet at the starting line. The tortoise sits on the back of the hare. The hare dashes off form "Angamali" to the banks of "Periyar". There the hare gets on the back of the tortoise and the tortoise swiftly crosses the river. On reaching the other side the tortoise again sits on the back of the hare. The hare runs as fast as he can to "Perumbavoor". Thus they both reach "Perumbavoor" in the fastest possible time.
The moral of the story is "Innovation and team work wins the race"

It's good to be individually brilliant and to have strong core competencies; but unless you're able to work in a team and harness each other's core competencies, you'll always perform below par because there will always be situations at which you'll do poorly and someone else does well. Teamwork is mainly about situational leadership, letting the person with the relevant core competency for a situation take leadership

There are more lessons to be learnt from this story. ....
Note that neither the hare nor the tortoise gave up after failures. The hare decided to work harder and put in more effort after his failure. The tortoise changed his strategy because he was already working as hard as hecould. In life, when faced with failure, sometimes it is appropriate to work harder and putin more effort. Sometimes it is appropriate to change strategy and try something different. And sometimes it is appropriate to do both.

The hare and the tortoise also learnt another vital lesson. When we stop competing against a rival and instead start competing against the situation, we perform far better.

To sum up, the story of the hare and tortoise teaches us many things. ....
Chief among them are :
That fast and consistent will always beat slow and steady; work to your competencies; pooling resources and working as a team will always beat individual performers; never give up when faced with failure; and finally, compete against the situation. Not against a rival.


Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Dialoge from the Movie Maza Peyyunu Madhallam Kottunnu ..

adipoli dialouge from the movie Maza Peyyunu Madhallam Kottunnu ..

its realy fun :) ... especialy the english by mohanlal and jagathy

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

How do you Sleep?

You are a peaceful sleeper. You recognize that
sleep is a necessary part of life, and
understand that there is no way for you to
fully appreciate everything around you if you
dont give yourself a break once in a while.
You are a very calm and collected person who
seems to have all of their ducks in a row, so
to speak. You enjoy life without getting
over-enthusiastic and appreciate harmony in all

How do you Sleep? (Anime Pics)
brought to you by Quizilla

I think the result i got from the quiz is correct a peaceful sleeper. :D

Sunday, July 24, 2005

Delivering a baby

1) Project Manager is a Person who thinks Nine women can deliver a baby in One month.

2) Developer is a Person who thinks it will take 18 months to deliver a baby.

3) Onsite Coordinator is one who thinks single woman can deliver nine babies in one month.

4) Client is the one who doesn't know why he wants a baby.

5) Marketing Manager is a person who thinks he can deliver a baby even if no man and woman are available.

6) Resource Optimization Team thinks they don't need a man or woman; they'll produce a child with zero resources.

7) Documentation Team thinks they don't care whether the child is delivered, they'll just document 9 months.

8) Quality Auditor is the person who is never happy with the PROCESS to produce a baby.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Appreciate every single thing you have ......

One day a father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the firm purpose of showing his son how poor people live. They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family.

On their return from their trip, the father asked his son,
"How was thetrip?"
"It was great, Dad."
"Did you see how poor people live?" the father asked.
"Oh yeah," said the son.
"So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?" asked the father.

The son answered: "I saw that we have one dog and they had four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end. We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night. Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon. We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight. We have servants who serve us, but they serve others. We buy our food, but they grow theirs. We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect them."

The boy's father was speechless.

Then his son added, "Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are."

Isn't perspective a wonderful thing? Makes you wonder what would happen if we all gave thanks for everything we have, instead of worrying about what we don't have.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Brian Moores Essay

17-year-old Brian Moore had o­nly a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.

Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at TearyValleyHigh School. Brian had been dead o­nly hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework. Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was o­nly after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven.

"It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Roadin PickawayCountyand struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped o­n a downed power line and was electrocuted. The Mooresframed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it, " Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him.

Brian's Essay: The Room... In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the o­ne wall covered with small index card files. They were like the o­nes in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was o­ne that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written o­n each o­ne. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named "Friends" was next to o­ne marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented. When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out o­nly an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke o­n me. o­ne thought dominated my mind: No o­ne must ever see these cards! No o­ne must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!"

In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at o­ne end and began pounding it o­n the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, o­nly to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled o­n its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained o­n o­ne hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell o­n my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No o­ne must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.

But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every o­ne? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at o­ne end of the room, He took out a file and, o­ne by o­ne, began to sign His name over mine o­n each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be o­n these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand o­n my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock o­n its door. There were still cards to be written.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13" For God so loved the world that He gave His o­nly son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel the same way mention this to as many people as you can so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

ആരാണു ?..മാലാഖ

ആരാണു ?
എന്തിനു വന്നു ?
എഴുത്തിനു വന്നു
എന്ത്‌ എഴുത്ത്‌?
ഏന്തു തല?
ഏന്തു മൊട്ട?
എന്തു കൊഴി ?
പൂവന്‍ കൊഴി
എന്തു പൂ?
കാട്ടു പൂ
എന്തു കാട്‌?
പട്ടി കാട്‌
എന്തു പട്ടി ?
പേ പട്ടി
എന്തു പേ ?

Sunday, June 19, 2005

തീരുമാനം ....

വല്ലപൊഴും എന്തെങ്കിലും എഴുതിയില്ലെല്‍ ബ്ലൊഗ്‌ പൊടി പിടിചു കെടകും അതൊകൊണ്ടാ ഇന്നു എന്തെലും എഴുതാം എന്നു കരുതിയതു ...

എന്തു എഴുതും ?? എങ്ങനെ എഴുതും ?

എനിയ്കാണെല്‍ ഇപ്പൊ ഒന്നും എഴുതാന്‍ ഉള്ള മൂടില്ല.. ഏം ടി വസുദെവന്‍ നയര്‍ അണെന്നു തൊന്നുനു ഒരിക്കല്‍ പറഞ്ഞതു "വലിയ വലിയ എഴുതുകാര്‍ക്ക്‌ , കഥയും കവിതയും ഒക്കെ എഴുതി കഴിയുമ്പൊള്‍ ഒരു പ്രെസവം കഴിഞ്ഞ പൊലെ അണത്രെ ...

ഈ കഥയും കവിതയും എഴുതുന്നതു ഇത്രകു പാടുള്ള പണിയാണൊ ? ദൈവത്തിനു അറിയാം ...

ചിലരുടെ നൊവലും കവിതയും എല്ലം വായിചാല്‍ വായികുന്നവനാകും പ്രെസവ വേദനയെക്കാള്‍ വലിയ വേദന തൊന്നുക ...

നൂറു ശതമനം സക്ഷരത കൊണ്ടു വന്ന ഒരു കൊഴപ്പം ... ഒള്ള ജെനങ്ങളില്‍ 75% ശതമാനം എഴുത്തുകാരും ബാക്കി ഒക്കെ വായനക്കാരും ..

കലികാലം ........

അതുകൊണ്ട്‌ ഒരിക്കലും ആരെയും സാഹിത്യം എഴുതി വേദനിപ്പികില്ലെനു ഞാന്‍ തീരുമാനിചൂ

Sunday, May 29, 2005



കൊള്ളാം !!!

വളരെ വളരെ നന്ന്

simple but very beautiful one

Sunday, May 22, 2005

A¡sc BsWsâ am\kw
C¡sc BsWsâ Xmakw

back to bahrain after one month vacation in kerala..........

by gods grace everything went fine happy that i was able to attend my sisters wedding :) realy thankful that my management allowed me one month vacation although my vacation was due only on october..

homesickness .....thats something worst :( .....

Hê {]hmknbpsS k¦Sw....

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

its raining

am sure somone who is coming today to bahrain for the first time will be amazed to see that its raining here. after all everybody knows only about a hot and humid middleast... i dont know why nobody talks about the winter season here..

for the last few days its rainng here ..and its very cold too ..average is 10 degree celsius.. for me its toooo cold.

Saturday, January 15, 2005

Kappa + Erachi

Last Thursday was really special for me... our thursday special(here we have weekend on thursday is the day we gather and enjoy) for dinner was "kappa + erachi" .. ( a mix of tapioca and beef) was ..yummy...

Although i have never tried to make this dish , i asked the help of my flat mate Davis chettan... Actually he was the one who reminded me of kappa+erachi last week. so i just asked him back whether you will help me. and he agreed.

and the dish was a huge success was very tasty ..although i felt that the curry was little bit hot,(becasue i added EXTRA pepper ;) )..i enjoyed making it and eating it :D ...

Below is how "kappa+earachi" is prepared (this is OUR way of preparing "kappa" + "erachi" ..and i never claim this this as the authenticated/approved way of preparing "kappa" + "erachi"). its very simple. please note this is an amateur way of cooking dont expect muchhhhhhhhhhhh...

1 kg Tapioca(kappa) cleaned and cut into small pieces ..
1 kg beef(erachi) cleaned and cut into small pieces..
(its better to cut kappa and erachi in same size )..
10 piece of green chilly(big one) cut into small pieces..
15 pieces of garlic sliced into small pieces..
3 big onions(savala) sliced into small pieces(not chopped)..
ginger sliced into small pieces ..
small onion(chuvannulli) 10 - 15 pieces chopped ..
curry leaves.

Masala :(garam masala 5 - 7 teaspoon) ..but i prefer we make it ourselves by mixing cardamom, pepper, cloves, etc etc.

Cook "kappa" in water until its around 70 - 80 % cooked. its shouldnt be fully cooked. drain the water and keep it dry.

put "erachi" in a pressure cooker (no water with "erachi") with ginger, chilly, garlic,onion and the masala prepared. cook it until u hear 5 whisltes of pressure cooker. after cooking keep it inside the pressure cooker for further 15 - 20 minutes without opening the cooker.

after 20 minutes add the "kappa" (which is already 70 - 80 % cooked) into the pressure cooker .and cook until u hear just one whistle from the pressure cooker.

keep it for another 15 - 20 minutes without opening the pressure cooker....

Boil some cocoanut oil and add the chopped onion "(chuvanulli)" and fry it until it turns gold in color..add curry leaves to it.. pour this mixture into the already prepared "kappa+erchi" in the pressure cooker. boil it for 5 minutes...your "kappa+earchi" is ready.