Dear friends,

                   Nice to be back again into the blogging world.This time though it is a suggetion I wish to seek from you all-- Iam desperately trying to take up formal training in the practice of meditation to achieve a balance. Iam looking for such an institute which teaches you without asking you to give up your regular worship practices and the likes.There are some places which i came across recently which offer the same but they ask one to give up normal worship practices, and embracing their guru etc.
Is it OK for an individual to start it all by himself reading articles like concentrate on your breath and go into a meditative state etc ?

Awaiting your suggestions in this regard....

Cheers


      
                

 

Dear friends,                            Hi!!  Here is wishing you all a very Happy & Prosperous 2008!!!! Cheers....

Dear friends,

                      Hey ,Folks, hope you are all doing good..Ya,I know my visit is after a very long time.Quite tied up,actually.Hope to be back and catch up with you all.....Till then, bye and take care!!

                                 

It was way back as a kid while coming back from school everyday, there was this old man by the side of the pavement in dhothi, kurta who used to sell guinea pigs and white mice in four cages. Two for the guinea pigs and two for the mice. He used to be well dressed and his dhothi kurta would always be in spotless white. I still can remember his broad face and his big round nostril. Passing by him daily my brother would start his pleas for buying him g’pig for keeping as pet and the reply as usual would be the same-The loudest possible NO.That poor old man used to get cursed a lot for sitting by that pavement and luring my brother.

The war for bringing the g’pigs went on for months so far I can remember. At last my parents gave in to his never ending cries and two of them were purchased .My God! What a day it was!! His joy knew no bounds. I was quite small at that time and curiously watched him put them into a big brown cardboard box (similar to the ones in which T.V etc remain packed).Placing some lettuce leaves for them to eat.

The g’pigs like rabbits are very timid.They were quite shocked to be placed in the new environment far away from their old master. One was full white with black and brown patches and we named them Berry and the other was full white with only brown patches and it was christened Cherry. Berry male and Cherry female, that’s what I was told then. Of course both were like soft colored cotton balls.

The next morning they woke us all up with their characteristic sound which goes like “kuyee ,kuyee”.This added to the irritation of my parents who did not like those poor little creatures right from the start. On going up to see what made them squeak we found that the box was filled with small balls of their excreta and the greens were finished and they wanted more. More comments followed on the smell, the noise they made but my brother cared the least…

Weeks passed and it turned to months and slowly even my parents got used to their noise and stuff and in fact started liking them…One fine evening Cherry started to have kind of diarrhea and somehow passed away by next morning quite unexpectedly. The grief was evident on Berry’s face and for days without his partner the discomfort became more and more distinct.

And lo! The permission was granted to bring in a friend for Berry and in came to our house a older male Terry. Berry and Terry became friends in no time and this gave us a lot of relief.

To cut a long story short, we had both for two months or so but constant threat from our pet cat (that would take one more page of narration) which had an eye to pounce on them and devour them made us or rather forced us to donate them to a nearby park which housed a lot of these sweet little creatures.

After they were given away there was this vacuum which we all felt…Once I had gone to see how they are doing and both Berry and Terry were doing fine in fact much happier since they found their fellow brothers and sisters in large numbers and were quite satisfied. They didn’t recognize us though….But kind of came close to us when we handed them the grass feed….

So there ends one of my fond memories of my animals friends!!

Dear friends, this I received as a forwarded mail.Please circulate it to increase awareness of the dangers of soya consumption:

ONE WOMAN'S STORY ON SOYA...

 All Males-PLEASE pass this info to all your female friends... It may save their lives!
Something to take note of.This is my true story, nothing altered. These are facts, as they relate to my experience, my opinions based on what I have read and felt. I am relating them to warn other young health-conscious women who are unwittingly harming themselves.

In 1989, I graduated from high school in Texas and couldn't wait to hit the big college city. One of the changes I wanted to make was to eat healthier.

Once I moved to health-conscious Austin, Texas, I began to fortify my body with the best and healthiest foods I could find. Tofu was the main ingredient in every healthy dish and I bought soya milk almost every day and used it for everything from cereal to smoothies or just to drink for a quick snack. I bought soya muffins, miso soup with tofu, soybeans, soyabean sprouts, etc. All the literature in all the health and fitness magazines said that soya protected you against everything from heart disease to breast cancer.

 It was the magical isoflavones, the estrogen-like hormones that all worked to help you stay young and healthy. I looked great, I was working out all the time, but my menstrual cycle was off. At 20, I started taking birth control pills to regulate my menstrual cycle.

 In addition to this I began to suffer from painful periods. I began to get puffy; it was as though I was losing my muscle tone. I began to suffer from depression and getting hot flushes. I mistook all this for PMS since my periods were irregular. By the time I was 25, my periods were so bad, I couldn't walk.

 The birth control pills never made them regular or less painful so I decided to stop taking them. I went on like this for another two years until I realized my pain wasn't normal. At 27, my gynecologist found two cysts in my uterus. Both were the size of tennis balls. I went through surgery to have them removed and thank God they were benign. The gynecologist told me to go back on birth control pills. I didn't. In 1998, he discovered a lump in my breast. Again, I went through surgery and again it was benign.

In November 2000 my glands swelled up and my gums became inflamed. Thinking I had a tooth infection I went to the dentist who told me that teeth were not the problem. After a dose of antibiotics the swelling still did not go down. At this point I could feel a tiny nodule on the right side of my neck. I told my mother I had thyroid trouble. She thought I was being silly. No one in the family suffered from thyroid trouble. Going on a hunch I saw a specialist who diagnosed me with Papillary Thyroid Carcinoma.

After a series of tests he told me it was cancer. My fiance and I sat stunned. We were not prepared and I was so scared. We scheduled surgery right away. The specialist told us that it would only be after the operation that a pathologist would be able to tell us for sure if it was cancer. They found a tumor in my right lobe composed of irregular cells and another smaller tumor growing on the left, so the entire thyroid was removed. They told me that after undergoing radioactive iodine I would be safe and assured me that I could live a long life. After treatment I began to search for the cause of all these problems. I never once thought it could be all the soya I had consumed for nearly ten years. After all, soya is healthy.

 I came upon a web page that linked thyroid problems to soya intake and the conspiracy of soya marketed as a health food when in fact it is only a toxic by-product of the vegetable oil industry. This was insane; after all, the health and fitness magazines had said nothing about soya being harmful.

 I visited a herbalist who was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in 1985. She informed me that soya was the culprit. She had a hysterectomy due to cysts and other uterine problems. A few months later another acquaintance who had consumed soya came down with thyroid cancer. A girl in England I met through the Internet in a thyroid cancer forum had just undergone surgery and she was only 19.

What was going on???? Breast cancer is linked to estrogen. What mimics estrogen in the female body, SOYA!  But I never suspected soya because until now I never once found a single article that stated soya could be dangerous. Women who took soya prior to thyroid problems will continue to take it after if they are not aware of what soya actually does, what it contains and how it reacts in the female body. I think this is the reason that women with thyroid cancer often develop breast cancer later.

 My co-worker is big into soya and I see her losing hair and gaining weight despite a walking workout during her break and after work, and apples and oranges for lunch. She just had cysts removed from her uterus too. I warned her to stay off soya.

 I referred her to websites but until it is on the evening news on all four networks, women will suffer. Since the thyroidectomy. I do not touch soya, haven't for two years.

 Dear readers, please use my story in any way you can. There are so many young girls who are consuming soya because they think they are taking care of themselves, and women taking soya because they want to be healthy.

It is so unfair that the information about the dangers of soya isn't more widely circulated. It is sad. There are many out there who feel this way and it is a terrible blow when you realize you are not as healthy as you thought and that the information that you depended on was wrong.

I always wonder about the friends we make during train journeys.Train journeys are always so good. Inspite of the dirt and pollution there is something very “desi” and gives “my very own India “ kind of feel….The seats,the berth number ,the window seat the two day long journey, the cutlet wallah, the soup man, and the likes, the meals order, the vast open lush green fields, the farmers (our very own “Kisaan”) the huts, the little pigs,the goats ,the cow,  the river bodies and the bridges, the temple gopourams (in south travels), everything about it is actually an experience by itself. Of course the beggars, the little sweeper boys and the eunuchs give a very painful and a sorry feel about the state of affairs.

Now coming back to friends during these journeys I somehow remember most of the faces I have met during the journeys atleast if I take the past five years or so into account. They are so much like passing clouds. We share all the stories about ourselves, help each other and on reaching the destination we say “Hope we will meet again in the city street someday” and it almost invariably never happens.Its always the bye once and for all. For all the sea of humanity never once in all these years have I come across the same faces.

Again a journey to Chennai a few years, infact quite more than five years back and the four engineering graduates who made our journey memorable is still afresh in my memory.

Being a teenager then, I had a huge crush on one of the boys. Somehow he was an admirable young guy. Those were the days when every other boy would seem to be your “dream man”.Looking back, all this makes for a good laugh at the crushed dreams that comes as a free offer with the crush and the broken heart thereafter…..

The four boys were a great company with them singing good Hindi songs, telling about themselves, their families ….Not only me, in fact my family even to this day remembers the boys and we sometimes wonder where they are posted in life.

Recently there was this family with a very sweet little brilliant girl and she kept nagging me throughout the journey about this and that .She stuck on to me like a glue and early morning when the time came to part ways the same promise to meet, the same “all the best”, the same everything …..

Somehow after every train journey as I recall the whole experience ,the people from different cultural backgrounds whom I had connected actually fills me with a sense of brotherhood, a feeling of some kind of belongingness and something truly satisfying and refreshing.

There was a time when having a phone connection meant you are rich or atleast well- to- do.In my school,children from all walks of life studied, and so in our school environment atleast this was the notion. We got our landline connection in 1992.It came one fine day in a carton on which was printed”Phone Set: Colour: Ice Blue.”These words are as if imprinted in my mind and I fondly remember the first set, though thereafter many others came after each got repaired. But the first remains my favourite till date.

In our class, only five of us had. I was the new addition .It was automatically presumed that all six of us were “rich” Little did they know we got the connection 10 years after we had applied!

And I used to proudly and happily give away my number and in case any friend  used to give a call, I felt like a Prime Minister when whoever picked the phone would shout-“Hey phone for you” With a broad smile and  feeling very important I would run to the phone, infact take a few more minutes and speak so as to feel how it is talking to a person over the phone…clear her doubts or homework for the next day and hang up the phone and I still remember would look around with immense pride at this great achievement of successfully talking and solving the matter over the phone. This would be all the more thrilling if any guest or relative had come and I would get a call and a sense of importance that followed.

Now, slowly neighbours started pouring in and would either call or receive calls and we would go to them and let them know the message .This went on for a few more years and there were people still coming to our house for the phone calls...

One by one our neighbours got their own phones and the number of visitors drastically reduced. Same in school .I had a whole lot of numbers in my diary and I was no longer the only “rich” member of the class. The Tatas and Birlas had multiplied in no time!!

The phone no longer a measure of richness, the focus shifted to washing machines!! I remember my friend once saying to all of us - “My mother said she will not put the clothes in the machine (stress) if I dirty it today” Now all of us around her used to inwardly feel “How is it like to wash clothes in a machine? But no one dared to ask it aloud though.

Now kids have everything, atleast in the well developed areas. With the abundance they have there is no thrill or charm associated with any of the goods as they see it right from the time they are born. There is no longer the “rich”,”poor” tags,no innocent smiles,no proud beaming face….  

"A careless word may kindle strife,
A cruel word may wreck a life,
A timely word may lessen stress,
A loving word may heal and bless."
-- Author Unknown

Words have the power to make you or mar you. Words can actually make or break a person’s life. Such is their impact.

This post is not about words as such but I guess it has got to do with positive words in particular. Positive words carry about them a silent signal, perhaps telling us to go ahead, an affirmation so as to say.

This is from my own experience. Any child would first seek positive stroking/approval from the parents before he goes out to face the world. And again out of mom and dad, one becomes the role model (in most cases, exceptions are there as always). In my case, it was my dad in the role of “role model”.

I still can recall how with his grim face and stiff upper lip, he would say -“No”,”Not now”, “Don’t do that”,” Don’t go there”.When I would insist that he gave reasons for the same, he cleverly knew what exactly to say with a fatherly concern and love in his eyes and I never realized that all he was doing was to dampen my spirits. Moreover I know for sure it was never anything abnormal or unacceptable that I had wanted to do that he would give his negative signaling. Perhaps due to his love for me and due to his primitive ways of thinking, he felt a girl child ought not to do this, that etc.etc.If not words, at other times, only gestures were enough to convey the message.

I never could make out all along what a terrible effect the negative strokes were to bring about on me. Not till I moved away from home for studies. Life at hostel begins and enter an angel (no exaggerations) in the form of a teacher. Somehow she figured out that something was wrong in my upbringing, that someone had fine tuned my mind into such negative thinking.She started giving me positive injections. Every word she spoke worked magic on me. I started discovering myself, a new self that was unknown, unexplored…

 Out of hostel I know where Iam now and what all I had missed as a child and as a teen was because of those words. I give full marks to my dad for his love and protection towards us but in the department of encouragement, no comments.

So dear readers, unless otherwise absurd be sure to give your whole hearted support and encouragement to your loved ones, especially to the younger ones because it is your approval first they seek and only then comes the world’s……

Dear friends,

The following prayer was written by Dr.Reinhold Neibuhr.....

God,grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.

This I received as a forwarded mail.....read on...

The following story is without prejudice.I guess we need to rethink our priorities and standards of behaviour, in today's world of false values and confused thinking, where we satisfy our endless needs and justify our odious deeds in the name of destiny, in the name of so-called social norms and etiquette and in the name of God, where decency and fair play is sacrificed on the altar of expediency.

An old man, staying in a small south Indian town came to visit his son in Bombay recently. 

The son in his early thirties is a successful businessman living with his wife and son. The father, having spent most of his life at his birthplace, hardly understands a splatter of Hindi or English, forget Marathi. But he doesn't care. ‘I have come here to spend a few days with my son and his family. I don't have to go out and socialize with the city people,' he said.  But the son is very excited about his father's rare visit to Bombay.  He wants to make the best of it. He and his wife want to show him around the city. And yes, the son enjoys those evening hours too, when he and his father go out and sit in a good bar, sipping their favourite drink. 

Face off Last week he was in a very good mood. 'Let's go to a five star hotel's bar tonight,' he told his father. It was a beautiful evening. Talking about everything under the sun they had a few drinks. As usual they were offered some salad, peanuts, wafers etc. as accompaniments with their drinks. The old man being almost toothless was not much interested in eating. But that day when they got up to leave, he simply took a handful of chana (roasted grams) and stuffed it in the folds of his dhoti. He might have thought about munching on them, sitting in the car, or whatever.  Unfortunately while walking in the lobby, he missed a step and stumbled.  Down he went, scattering the chana on the plush carpet.  No problem. Now try to visualize that scenario. Someone else in his son's place would have been mortified, embarrassed to death. He might have cursed not his father but his own self for causing this awkward situation. 

'Never again will I take my old man to such hotels', he would have vowed. 

No sir, not this son. Gently, with a smile, he helped his father get back on his feet. Instead of feeling irritated or angry, he was amused. He found the whole incident very funny.  Laughing, they both went home and on the way they decided to return to the same place the following Sunday. 

The old man liked the place. Liked  the chana too.  A son rises A few days back, at a friend's place they both described this event and made everybody laugh. 

Weren't you embarrassed? Somebody asked the son. 'Oh, come on now' replied the son. 'He is my father. He talks in his native language, prefers to wear a dhoti even to a posh city hotel, takes chana from the bar to eat later, does whatever he feels like.... So what? Why should I feel embarrassed with his nature and habits? Nobody has a  right to stop him from doing whatever he feels comfortable with, as long as it is not harmful to others.'   The son doesn't care what the staff in the hotel thought about that incident. He says 'they should be concerned only with their bills and tips. I am concerned about my father's happiness.' The wife too totally agrees with the husband on this issue. She feels there are enough other qualities in her father- in- law to feel proud of. Accept them. The above incident is not mentioned just to show the love and devotion of a son for his father. More than love it is a matter of understanding and a healthy respect for the other person's lifestyle. A seventy plus old man doesn't want to change his lifestyle now. He likes the way he eats or dresses or talks. In his eyes there is nothing wrong with the old ways of living. And the son says, ok, fine.  Everybody has a right to live as per his wish. Now at his age, why should he be forced to learn to eat with a fork and knife, if he doesn't want to? I will feel bad if he is doing something morally wrong or indulging in some harmful activities. But otherwise it is fine. I am not going to try to change him at this stage. He is my father. I love him, respect him. 

Hey folks, can you think this way? So many times we see people getting embarrassed by the so called unsophisticated behaviour of their family members. They keep on   apologizing about their lack of class and manners or about their drawbacks to outsiders. 

My wife can't speak proper English; she doesn't know what's happening in the world, so I avoid taking her out or introducing her to my friends and business associates...   My parents can't eat with a spoon and fork, so I don't take them to restaurants.... My husband is working as an ordinary clerk, so I feel awkward when I introduce him to my rich friends. My brother is mentally challenged, so I don't feel like going out with him... 

Are you plagued with such thoughts or do you meet such people who think alike? 

If you do, please ask yourself. Why do others or I feel this way? Really what is there to feel ashamed of? Most of the people always have this fear of other peoples' opinions and comments. What would others say?  They think and try to alter their own way of living. Sometimes unnecessarily. What is worse is they try to change their own people too.  And when they can't, they are ashamed, angry. And apologetic to outsiders. In fact, these are the people who have no respect for others and no confidence in oneself.  They try to copy others, try to be what they are not, and constantly ask for outsiders' approval for their behaviour. They don't care about the feelings of their family members when they avoid or belittle them.  They don't think how happy his or her family member would feel if he/she gets an opportunity to go to some swanky restaurant or a fun- filled party.  Your wife, mother, father, little sister, and old aunt ...all those people depending on you for their happiness. If you don't fulfill their desires, who will?  They are what they are. We are what we are. We don't have to change ourselves to please strangers. And if you do, you are in for life long misery.  In that case you would never dare taking your dhoti clad relative to a five star hotel. And your father would never sit amongst your friends and laugh his heart out over some funny incident.