Sunday, October 14, 2007
Friday, October 12, 2007
Gareeb Nawaz
Today’s newspaper carried a little more bad news than it normally does. On the front page glared in bold fonts ‘Hit on Secular Symbol’. Yesterday, that is October 11, 2007; a bomb blasted in the ‘Gareeb Nawaz’ dargah premises in Ajmer, Rajasthan.
If you have been to Gareeb Nawaz, perhaps you will also share this feeling of sorrow and indignation with me. There’s some mysterious spiritual aura in the surroundings of this dargah. Khwaja Moinuddin Chisti was a 12th century Sufi saint. Believers still put faith in this man, fondly called as Gareeb Nawaz, the benefactor of the poor. To imagine a plot charged at harming the quiet and the sanctity of this place is saddening.
How is The Ajmer Dargah like? I have beautiful memories of the times I went there…
A narrow street leads you to the entrance. On both sides of this street are road-side peddlers, selling handkerchiefs, salwar suits, photo frames with dargah pictures, surma, shops of puja stuff- which sell flowers, beautifully embroidered chaddar and incense to be offered in the dargah. You will also be thronged by countless number of beggars urging you to give alms in the name of Gareeb Nawaz, and also a number of ‘Khadims’ who will make themselves available to assist you in your prayers at the dargah for a sum.
After you pass through all this bustle of life and business, after you have asked some khadim to accompany you inside and managed to survive the coaxing of flower and incense dealers, you pass through two large cooking bowls on each side of the entrance. The ‘Chhoti Daig’ is about four feet in diameter, the other; ‘Bari Daig’ is a slightly bigger. The Bari Daig and the Chhoti Daig remind one of the grandeur of old times, when the poor or hungry, visitors from far away places or old- anyone was fed food cooked in the huge bari and chhoti daigs.
In the courtyard are huge borsalli trees, beneath which believers sing sufiana songs in praise of Gareeb Nawaz. Just outside the Dargah building, inside the premises, you come across an 'uruz', a common area with water taps. It’s here that you are supposed to clean your hands with water before visiting the dargah.
The newspaper article rightly reports Gareeb Nawaz dargah to be ‘one of the most secular shrines in the country’. Let us all get together and condemn such acts of cowardice.
-Gauri Gharpure
If you have been to Gareeb Nawaz, perhaps you will also share this feeling of sorrow and indignation with me. There’s some mysterious spiritual aura in the surroundings of this dargah. Khwaja Moinuddin Chisti was a 12th century Sufi saint. Believers still put faith in this man, fondly called as Gareeb Nawaz, the benefactor of the poor. To imagine a plot charged at harming the quiet and the sanctity of this place is saddening.
How is The Ajmer Dargah like? I have beautiful memories of the times I went there…
A narrow street leads you to the entrance. On both sides of this street are road-side peddlers, selling handkerchiefs, salwar suits, photo frames with dargah pictures, surma, shops of puja stuff- which sell flowers, beautifully embroidered chaddar and incense to be offered in the dargah. You will also be thronged by countless number of beggars urging you to give alms in the name of Gareeb Nawaz, and also a number of ‘Khadims’ who will make themselves available to assist you in your prayers at the dargah for a sum.
After you pass through all this bustle of life and business, after you have asked some khadim to accompany you inside and managed to survive the coaxing of flower and incense dealers, you pass through two large cooking bowls on each side of the entrance. The ‘Chhoti Daig’ is about four feet in diameter, the other; ‘Bari Daig’ is a slightly bigger. The Bari Daig and the Chhoti Daig remind one of the grandeur of old times, when the poor or hungry, visitors from far away places or old- anyone was fed food cooked in the huge bari and chhoti daigs.
In the courtyard are huge borsalli trees, beneath which believers sing sufiana songs in praise of Gareeb Nawaz. Just outside the Dargah building, inside the premises, you come across an 'uruz', a common area with water taps. It’s here that you are supposed to clean your hands with water before visiting the dargah.
The newspaper article rightly reports Gareeb Nawaz dargah to be ‘one of the most secular shrines in the country’. Let us all get together and condemn such acts of cowardice.
-Gauri Gharpure
Monday, October 08, 2007
The Garbage Dump
About five minutes's distance from my flat, on the right side of this really crowded road set amongst ghettos, is this garbage dump by a pukur, a pond as they call in bangla. It is beautiful.
I have never seen such beauty in a garbage dump ever before, but believe me, everytime I pass by this heap of waste, I see such a unique snapshot of life.
It's such an intriguing cacophony of life. Two or three tame ducks waddle about it sometimes, but one white broiler, with his bright red head plume and a spotted little shabby grey hen as his companion are the permanant residents of this dump. Also there are a few gay crows hopping about and a particularly strange grey cloured dog. He always sleeps on some side or the other of the dump.
Sometimes there are pieces of brightly coloured tatters of cloth lying about. And sometimes, a steady ring of smoke fumes out of a recently burned heap on the corner of the dump. On the whole, it's a grey and brown color combination I see in the piles of papers, rotting leaves. It's beautiful, if you will believe me...
Gauri Gharpure,
October 8, 2007
I have never seen such beauty in a garbage dump ever before, but believe me, everytime I pass by this heap of waste, I see such a unique snapshot of life.
It's such an intriguing cacophony of life. Two or three tame ducks waddle about it sometimes, but one white broiler, with his bright red head plume and a spotted little shabby grey hen as his companion are the permanant residents of this dump. Also there are a few gay crows hopping about and a particularly strange grey cloured dog. He always sleeps on some side or the other of the dump.
Sometimes there are pieces of brightly coloured tatters of cloth lying about. And sometimes, a steady ring of smoke fumes out of a recently burned heap on the corner of the dump. On the whole, it's a grey and brown color combination I see in the piles of papers, rotting leaves. It's beautiful, if you will believe me...
Gauri Gharpure,
October 8, 2007
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Book Review
My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk
I wonder why Orhan Pamuk makes his central character to be a man who gives a vibe of being a little weak, a little naïve and definitely someone who needs to be cared for by a very strong woman. (The concept of central character though in itself is a very individual take for each different reader)
Black in ‘My Name is Red’ is like Ka from ‘Snow’ in many respects. Both journey back to a place they had once grown up in, carrying with them a vague undertone of lust and hope. Both hope to find solace in the company of a woman they have pined for a long time. Both are melancholy in their take of life and evergreen optimists in their take of love.
My Name is Red takes the viewer to the 16th Century and gives him deep insight in the works of great masters of Herat and Persia and the art workshops of Akbar Khan, The King of Hindustan. It is rich with fables and legends of the era long since extinct, of the lores of Husrev and Shirin, of Rustem and his lust and also, great masters like Bihzad who were immortalized without even leaving a signature to their works.
Shekure is the strong-willed woman who will do anything to safeguard her sons. Her mind is that of a shrewd woman who can wriggle out of any situation by using her womanhood as and when required. All of Black’s actions are carried out keeping Shekure in mind, what will please her and what will not, what will bring her closer to him and how. Black is love-stricken.
Reading this book is like getting the privilege to journey through time. It has vivid descriptions of colours, of the process of painting in the workshops of Istanbul as well as the conflict between art and religion. When the frankestein way of portraiture is knocking on the doors of an old tradition of art. ‘My Name is Red’ is all about those who give in to the temptation of making a life-like portrait while those who fear to break away from hundreds of years of history of miniature paintings.
-Gauri Gharpure
I wonder why Orhan Pamuk makes his central character to be a man who gives a vibe of being a little weak, a little naïve and definitely someone who needs to be cared for by a very strong woman. (The concept of central character though in itself is a very individual take for each different reader)
Black in ‘My Name is Red’ is like Ka from ‘Snow’ in many respects. Both journey back to a place they had once grown up in, carrying with them a vague undertone of lust and hope. Both hope to find solace in the company of a woman they have pined for a long time. Both are melancholy in their take of life and evergreen optimists in their take of love.
My Name is Red takes the viewer to the 16th Century and gives him deep insight in the works of great masters of Herat and Persia and the art workshops of Akbar Khan, The King of Hindustan. It is rich with fables and legends of the era long since extinct, of the lores of Husrev and Shirin, of Rustem and his lust and also, great masters like Bihzad who were immortalized without even leaving a signature to their works.
Shekure is the strong-willed woman who will do anything to safeguard her sons. Her mind is that of a shrewd woman who can wriggle out of any situation by using her womanhood as and when required. All of Black’s actions are carried out keeping Shekure in mind, what will please her and what will not, what will bring her closer to him and how. Black is love-stricken.
Reading this book is like getting the privilege to journey through time. It has vivid descriptions of colours, of the process of painting in the workshops of Istanbul as well as the conflict between art and religion. When the frankestein way of portraiture is knocking on the doors of an old tradition of art. ‘My Name is Red’ is all about those who give in to the temptation of making a life-like portrait while those who fear to break away from hundreds of years of history of miniature paintings.
-Gauri Gharpure
Saturday, September 29, 2007
I forgot to light a candle
Many a love die
But what a way to die...
Many a love fade,
But what a way to fade...
I forgot to light a candle today
For a man who once loved.
His name was Rizwanur
He died the other day...
I didn't know him, no.
And neither would I have had;
Had he not loved the way he did-
Or died the way he died.
It's all over the papers, you know
They make it sound pretty sad.
His death on the tracks;
His widow and all...
I forgot to light a candle today
For a man who once loved...
His name was Rizwanur,
He died the other day...
(I appreciate all your comments.
Please click on the title (I forgot to light a candle) above
This link has an article with details of the Rizwanur case.
I like poems with their abstractness intact.)
Thursday, September 20, 2007
The Smoke of Life
Smoke withered away from sand the other day
from a wasted cigarette butt.
The stick was living its last breath,
Living as much it could, as much it must...
Smoke flew towards the right,
Slowly waking up from the sand
It crawled a bit in circles
And then flew up the land.
Little symbols of life-
Just living, Just gone away
glimpse at us from time to time,
Like that cigarette butt breathing its last day...
- Gauri Gharpure
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Caring for pets
With a childhood full of raising almost all kinds of animals from a magnificient german shephard bitch and a flock of lively hens, to caring for injured or abandoned baby squirrels, baby peacocks, etc, learning to cope with the loss of an animal is something I have slowly aquired. But it's difficult all the same, everytime.
So let me use this blog to write whatever I know about caring for Budgrigars, Lovebirds and Beta Fighter fishes- as these are my current pets...
Budgrigars
These are very delicate little birds, orginally found in the deserts of Australia... They come in numerous colours from canary yellow, to lemon green, sky blue, yellowish-blue, white/cream, etc. Also, these are more easily bred as compared to lovebirds.
But caring for these is quite a task, as I have now come to know...
The veternary doc prescribed to give each bird a drop of Visceryl Vitamin drops everyday. For the youngest of all- 'Chhotu' who was feathering and had some minor skin infection, the doc prescribed the following remedy:
1 portion finely ground naphthalene ball
1 portion (same as that quantity of ground naphthalene) of boric acid powder
Mix both these portions thoroughly.
Now add 4 portions* (*portions equal to the quantity of the mixed naphthalene and boric acid powders this time) normal talcum powder.
Mix well and store in a clean bottle.
Dust the affected area with this powder once a day till the skin infection is under control.
I was also asked to de-worm each bird, and then repeat the same dose of one drop each after eighteen days.
My father, who himself bred a lot of budgerigars when I really very small to understand these nitty-gritties, was a bit skeptical about the de-worm step. His resistance was correct, as dogs pups are bound to get a bit weak after a de-worm dose.
Well, nothing happened to my birds after the first dose, but one adult male suddenly died two days after the second de-worm dose after 18 days. The only anomaly I had noticed about him was he didnt feed in the morning as all birds do. But these are very moody birds, so I assumed it was one of his mood swings..If this was related or not, the vet didn't confirm.
One day after the death of this adult, another young died suddenly.
When I say sudenly, I mean suddenly! These birds act perfectly normal just minutes before they fall down and start weakening up.
And so, today was the final blow- death of the youngest and most charming bird I called 'Chhotu'. He had an extremely unique red colour marking on his forehead, which I had not yet seen in a budgrigar...
Lovebirds
I have the 'rosy faced' pair now. With now, I mean that two beautiful green lovebirds' pair actually 'escaped' out of the cage. Yes, they escaped. I am damn sure I had closed the cage the night before.
The thing is, these are extremely inquisitive, curious and hyper-active birds. Their beaks are ever poking in anything new and anything that can move. They push around the food cups, empty the water cups and yes, I saw them experimenting with the bolting hook too. But I didnt actually think they would be able to open it and hop out. But hop out they did... And vanished into thin air much before my husband's eyes.
So one big lesson learnt- Tie the hook with a string to make sure these silly creatures don't fly away to their doom.
Another lesson which I learnt much earlier as a child was never to get carried away by emotions and 'free' a small sized caged bird. My father explained, and now I know he was right, that such delicate birds like Budgrigars and Lovebirds are almost entirely bred in captivity, having lived in cages all their life. They can't thus fly a lot. At the most they will zoom somewhere in full speed and fumble without finding a good perch. Moreover, not being native, scared and lost, these are easy preys for kites, even crows for that matter who are normally scavengers...
If the bird is tame enough and if you can aptly handle the bird, i.e. catch it again and all, you may let it fly in a room, with all doors and fans closed.
About the 'Rosy-faced' pair which chose not to hop out of the open cage. Well... it's the most charming twosome I have ever laid my eyes on. These are hopelessly silly and ever squeaking birds, a joy to behold... I thought the cage was getting a bit dull, so I hung the two wooden circles of an embroidery ring with a string in the cage.
In less than two hours, the most curious one was happily swinging away... Each bird has its own unique personality and will take his own sweet time to try a new toy. Like, even though the rosy male started using the ring on the first day itself, the female took more than a week to accompany him on the ride...
Siamese Beta Fighters
I have two beatiful males. (The females are drab, not as attractively coloured, and as a rule never put on sale in most pet shops)
This fish is excellent for beginners, or for those who have less time on hands... It's a very sturdy fish and will deman minimum possible attention from you. What's more, with the beautiful colours it comes in, just seeing this pet gliding gracefully in the bowl is almost as good as a trip to the spa after a long day...
So as I said, this is one super low maintanance fish... Lets see what one has to do to keep it healthy and happy...
It will thrive in a medium sized bowl, but as is with all bird habitats, the bigger the better.
Before buying the bowl, ensure it does not have any crack or small leaks. Make the shop owner fill the bowl and hold it up for a while, to check if any water trickles out.
Clean the bowl regularly, and once thouroughly before introducing the fish from the polythene bag.
Fix two days in a week, say Wednesday and Sunday, and try to stick to the schedule you have maintained.
Take a clean empty bathroom mug. Carefully fill it up with the water already in the bowl.
Gently catch the fish in your hands, dont ever press too hard, and release it slowly in a mug.
A word of caution- Dont fill the mug to its brim and keep it in your view while cleaning the bowl. I had a fright of my life one fine day when i shifted my two fighters- Chhotu (again, chhotu the fish this time) and motu in two mugs, kept these near the centre table and went in the kitchen to clean the bowls...
On coming back, I saw this wrinkled blue thing lying near the tv, almost 3 feet away from the mug. In a moment, tht 'thing' started jumping. I had a hard time to react in an instant, to transfer the silly new fish-motu in the mug.
I have no idea how long it was out in this manner. Why this fish survived is because it belongs to a family, which has special accessory breathing organs called 'labyrinthine organs'. These help them to stay in oxygen deficient conditions quite easily, like their natural habitat of water-filled paddy fields in Thailand. I take extra care of 'Motu' now, after his out of the bowl escapade.
Clean the bowl thoroughly, scrub well, using a mild soap will do. Just make sure to wash the bowl again well, free of any remaining soap, for it might alter the Ph of the water..
Add one day old water, preferably aquaguard or any drinking water you normally use. (Not mineral water though)
Always retain one quarter of the old water and add three quarters of one old day water. Never change the water completely. It might kill your fish.
When the fish is new, you may use this treatment for the first two-three water changes:
Take potassium permanganate, quantity stricty a quarter of a mustard seed in a mugful of water. Leave the fish in this mug for a few seconds, say 10-20 seconds, or even less. Catch it and release immediately in the bowl of fresh water. Potassium permangate is very effective for fungal or other such skin infections, for the general glow of the skin, but a little more can be lethal. So be very cautious with this treatment.
Once a female fighter had a strange, mysterious and potentially disastrous symptom: The water turned a definite yellow, very clear, but a little more dense than usual in record time. I frantically called up a guy who I was told kept a lot of aquariums. He heard the symptoms as i described and told me to change the water completely, for a change! He asked to add warm water (Hottish warm, but not hot) and then sprinkle a pinch of salt over the fish wherever it moved for a few seconds. I did as I was told, although in hearts of my heart, I had lost all hope. But this female miraculously reacted to the treatment and went on to live healthily for a long time afterwards...
With food, be as miserly as you can. Don't give in to the temptations of throwing extra munches. Over feeding is most defintely lethal, under feeding is not. Ideally give in only about 0.1 cm or 0.2 cm at the max for full-grown males of the dried tubifix cubes each day. I feed my fighters only once a day and they seem to be literally thriving. Keep the dried tubifix cubes, or any other readymade pellets that you buy in an air-tight bottle. Do not let it get moist in any case. Ideally, once small pack should last more than a month at the least. If you live in a bunglow, dig up some fertile soil for baby earthworms (light pink, 2 cm to 3 cm long worms with a moist, shiny body), clean them well and throw live in the bowl. See your Fighter devour them in a jiffy. They will be very healthy if fed live food once in a while.
P.S- Search for earthworms only if you know well enough what to find and can identify earthworms from other worms with good confidence!
These fish have a great personality. Introduing any play toy may be a good idea, but the toy should not be dangerous in anyway, i.e. with sharp ends, soluble in water, etc. I put a beautiful purple orchid flower in the bowl once and it was delightful to see 'Chhotu' the fish poke it curiously for hours at end, gliding below it from time to time and seeing it from all angles. However, be careful with the showy stones the aquarium owner may give you along with the fish and the bowl. The stones I had introduced in the bowl began to deposit calcium carbonate or some such substance in a day, which my husband noticed... I had to remove the stones carefully, clean the bowl thoroughly again and wait and watch with crossed fingers to see if any Ph change had affected the fish. Fortunately, 'Chhotu' was as healthy as ever...
Hmmm... That's all I have the energy now to share with you...
Have a Happy Pet Experience...
-Gauri Gharpure, Sep 15 '2007
So let me use this blog to write whatever I know about caring for Budgrigars, Lovebirds and Beta Fighter fishes- as these are my current pets...
Budgrigars
These are very delicate little birds, orginally found in the deserts of Australia... They come in numerous colours from canary yellow, to lemon green, sky blue, yellowish-blue, white/cream, etc. Also, these are more easily bred as compared to lovebirds.
But caring for these is quite a task, as I have now come to know...
The veternary doc prescribed to give each bird a drop of Visceryl Vitamin drops everyday. For the youngest of all- 'Chhotu' who was feathering and had some minor skin infection, the doc prescribed the following remedy:
1 portion finely ground naphthalene ball
1 portion (same as that quantity of ground naphthalene) of boric acid powder
Mix both these portions thoroughly.
Now add 4 portions* (*portions equal to the quantity of the mixed naphthalene and boric acid powders this time) normal talcum powder.
Mix well and store in a clean bottle.
Dust the affected area with this powder once a day till the skin infection is under control.
I was also asked to de-worm each bird, and then repeat the same dose of one drop each after eighteen days.
My father, who himself bred a lot of budgerigars when I really very small to understand these nitty-gritties, was a bit skeptical about the de-worm step. His resistance was correct, as dogs pups are bound to get a bit weak after a de-worm dose.
Well, nothing happened to my birds after the first dose, but one adult male suddenly died two days after the second de-worm dose after 18 days. The only anomaly I had noticed about him was he didnt feed in the morning as all birds do. But these are very moody birds, so I assumed it was one of his mood swings..If this was related or not, the vet didn't confirm.
One day after the death of this adult, another young died suddenly.
When I say sudenly, I mean suddenly! These birds act perfectly normal just minutes before they fall down and start weakening up.
And so, today was the final blow- death of the youngest and most charming bird I called 'Chhotu'. He had an extremely unique red colour marking on his forehead, which I had not yet seen in a budgrigar...
Lovebirds
I have the 'rosy faced' pair now. With now, I mean that two beautiful green lovebirds' pair actually 'escaped' out of the cage. Yes, they escaped. I am damn sure I had closed the cage the night before.
The thing is, these are extremely inquisitive, curious and hyper-active birds. Their beaks are ever poking in anything new and anything that can move. They push around the food cups, empty the water cups and yes, I saw them experimenting with the bolting hook too. But I didnt actually think they would be able to open it and hop out. But hop out they did... And vanished into thin air much before my husband's eyes.
So one big lesson learnt- Tie the hook with a string to make sure these silly creatures don't fly away to their doom.
Another lesson which I learnt much earlier as a child was never to get carried away by emotions and 'free' a small sized caged bird. My father explained, and now I know he was right, that such delicate birds like Budgrigars and Lovebirds are almost entirely bred in captivity, having lived in cages all their life. They can't thus fly a lot. At the most they will zoom somewhere in full speed and fumble without finding a good perch. Moreover, not being native, scared and lost, these are easy preys for kites, even crows for that matter who are normally scavengers...
If the bird is tame enough and if you can aptly handle the bird, i.e. catch it again and all, you may let it fly in a room, with all doors and fans closed.
About the 'Rosy-faced' pair which chose not to hop out of the open cage. Well... it's the most charming twosome I have ever laid my eyes on. These are hopelessly silly and ever squeaking birds, a joy to behold... I thought the cage was getting a bit dull, so I hung the two wooden circles of an embroidery ring with a string in the cage.
In less than two hours, the most curious one was happily swinging away... Each bird has its own unique personality and will take his own sweet time to try a new toy. Like, even though the rosy male started using the ring on the first day itself, the female took more than a week to accompany him on the ride...
Siamese Beta Fighters
I have two beatiful males. (The females are drab, not as attractively coloured, and as a rule never put on sale in most pet shops)
This fish is excellent for beginners, or for those who have less time on hands... It's a very sturdy fish and will deman minimum possible attention from you. What's more, with the beautiful colours it comes in, just seeing this pet gliding gracefully in the bowl is almost as good as a trip to the spa after a long day...
So as I said, this is one super low maintanance fish... Lets see what one has to do to keep it healthy and happy...
It will thrive in a medium sized bowl, but as is with all bird habitats, the bigger the better.
Before buying the bowl, ensure it does not have any crack or small leaks. Make the shop owner fill the bowl and hold it up for a while, to check if any water trickles out.
Clean the bowl regularly, and once thouroughly before introducing the fish from the polythene bag.
Fix two days in a week, say Wednesday and Sunday, and try to stick to the schedule you have maintained.
Take a clean empty bathroom mug. Carefully fill it up with the water already in the bowl.
Gently catch the fish in your hands, dont ever press too hard, and release it slowly in a mug.
A word of caution- Dont fill the mug to its brim and keep it in your view while cleaning the bowl. I had a fright of my life one fine day when i shifted my two fighters- Chhotu (again, chhotu the fish this time) and motu in two mugs, kept these near the centre table and went in the kitchen to clean the bowls...
On coming back, I saw this wrinkled blue thing lying near the tv, almost 3 feet away from the mug. In a moment, tht 'thing' started jumping. I had a hard time to react in an instant, to transfer the silly new fish-motu in the mug.
I have no idea how long it was out in this manner. Why this fish survived is because it belongs to a family, which has special accessory breathing organs called 'labyrinthine organs'. These help them to stay in oxygen deficient conditions quite easily, like their natural habitat of water-filled paddy fields in Thailand. I take extra care of 'Motu' now, after his out of the bowl escapade.
Clean the bowl thoroughly, scrub well, using a mild soap will do. Just make sure to wash the bowl again well, free of any remaining soap, for it might alter the Ph of the water..
Add one day old water, preferably aquaguard or any drinking water you normally use. (Not mineral water though)
Always retain one quarter of the old water and add three quarters of one old day water. Never change the water completely. It might kill your fish.
When the fish is new, you may use this treatment for the first two-three water changes:
Take potassium permanganate, quantity stricty a quarter of a mustard seed in a mugful of water. Leave the fish in this mug for a few seconds, say 10-20 seconds, or even less. Catch it and release immediately in the bowl of fresh water. Potassium permangate is very effective for fungal or other such skin infections, for the general glow of the skin, but a little more can be lethal. So be very cautious with this treatment.
Once a female fighter had a strange, mysterious and potentially disastrous symptom: The water turned a definite yellow, very clear, but a little more dense than usual in record time. I frantically called up a guy who I was told kept a lot of aquariums. He heard the symptoms as i described and told me to change the water completely, for a change! He asked to add warm water (Hottish warm, but not hot) and then sprinkle a pinch of salt over the fish wherever it moved for a few seconds. I did as I was told, although in hearts of my heart, I had lost all hope. But this female miraculously reacted to the treatment and went on to live healthily for a long time afterwards...
With food, be as miserly as you can. Don't give in to the temptations of throwing extra munches. Over feeding is most defintely lethal, under feeding is not. Ideally give in only about 0.1 cm or 0.2 cm at the max for full-grown males of the dried tubifix cubes each day. I feed my fighters only once a day and they seem to be literally thriving. Keep the dried tubifix cubes, or any other readymade pellets that you buy in an air-tight bottle. Do not let it get moist in any case. Ideally, once small pack should last more than a month at the least. If you live in a bunglow, dig up some fertile soil for baby earthworms (light pink, 2 cm to 3 cm long worms with a moist, shiny body), clean them well and throw live in the bowl. See your Fighter devour them in a jiffy. They will be very healthy if fed live food once in a while.
P.S- Search for earthworms only if you know well enough what to find and can identify earthworms from other worms with good confidence!
These fish have a great personality. Introduing any play toy may be a good idea, but the toy should not be dangerous in anyway, i.e. with sharp ends, soluble in water, etc. I put a beautiful purple orchid flower in the bowl once and it was delightful to see 'Chhotu' the fish poke it curiously for hours at end, gliding below it from time to time and seeing it from all angles. However, be careful with the showy stones the aquarium owner may give you along with the fish and the bowl. The stones I had introduced in the bowl began to deposit calcium carbonate or some such substance in a day, which my husband noticed... I had to remove the stones carefully, clean the bowl thoroughly again and wait and watch with crossed fingers to see if any Ph change had affected the fish. Fortunately, 'Chhotu' was as healthy as ever...
Hmmm... That's all I have the energy now to share with you...
Have a Happy Pet Experience...
-Gauri Gharpure, Sep 15 '2007
Friday, September 14, 2007
Two minute snacks
Food is something that can lift me out of the gloomiest of my moods. Food and sleep. But let's talk about food for a while...
Here are some super-quick snacks, ideal for hostelites or late-night munching on...
1) Cream-cracker sandwiches
Simply open two britannia cheese slices and place them in between three cream-crackers. A truly rocking combo!!!
However, you need not be as greedy, be content with one slice for two biscuits and have mercy on your tummy...
2) Tel, mithu, marchu ane mamra
Though I am now settled in the land of 'Jhaal muri' the taste of this simple late-night snack just refuses to fade... Four of us cousins, me and my elder sister Vaidehi, Ravija and Belu would stay up late at nights before Uttrayan or just any other get-together and whip up this superfast snack the moment we felt hungry.
It's as simple as this: Take a handful of mamra (muri), add a pinch of salt, lots of red chilli powder and a spoonful of raw groundnut oil. Mix well and eat. Tastes great with a garnising of onion or tomato, but then, that would be more than two minutes, so chuck that.
3) Doodh-paua
In Gujarati, a small child begining to play an ambitious game of cards or such alike is refered to secretly as 'Dhoodh paua'. My father often used to placate my elder sister with a wink of his eye when I insisted to play with her friend circle on my own terms... You ignore the 'Dhoodh paua'player no matter what cheating he does and give him chances to play no matter how many times he gets 'out'. I can only imagine now how frustrating my 'dhoodh paua' status must have been to Vaidehi then...
Anyway, 'Doodh-paua' has now become my fond snack, after being an in-house family term used to fool me ages ago. This one is great for those with a sweet tooth.
Take a handful of paua (poha or cheera) and soak it in a cup of water for a minute. Drain the water well, add a cup of cold milk and some sugar. Throw in some raisins and nuts if they can be easily found, and lo! your 2 minute sweet dish is ready to eat. That's doodh paua in the real 'foodie' term...
Let me know how you liked these two-minute snacks...
-Gauri Gharpure
Here are some super-quick snacks, ideal for hostelites or late-night munching on...
1) Cream-cracker sandwiches
Simply open two britannia cheese slices and place them in between three cream-crackers. A truly rocking combo!!!
However, you need not be as greedy, be content with one slice for two biscuits and have mercy on your tummy...
2) Tel, mithu, marchu ane mamra
Though I am now settled in the land of 'Jhaal muri' the taste of this simple late-night snack just refuses to fade... Four of us cousins, me and my elder sister Vaidehi, Ravija and Belu would stay up late at nights before Uttrayan or just any other get-together and whip up this superfast snack the moment we felt hungry.
It's as simple as this: Take a handful of mamra (muri), add a pinch of salt, lots of red chilli powder and a spoonful of raw groundnut oil. Mix well and eat. Tastes great with a garnising of onion or tomato, but then, that would be more than two minutes, so chuck that.
3) Doodh-paua
In Gujarati, a small child begining to play an ambitious game of cards or such alike is refered to secretly as 'Dhoodh paua'. My father often used to placate my elder sister with a wink of his eye when I insisted to play with her friend circle on my own terms... You ignore the 'Dhoodh paua'player no matter what cheating he does and give him chances to play no matter how many times he gets 'out'. I can only imagine now how frustrating my 'dhoodh paua' status must have been to Vaidehi then...
Anyway, 'Doodh-paua' has now become my fond snack, after being an in-house family term used to fool me ages ago. This one is great for those with a sweet tooth.
Take a handful of paua (poha or cheera) and soak it in a cup of water for a minute. Drain the water well, add a cup of cold milk and some sugar. Throw in some raisins and nuts if they can be easily found, and lo! your 2 minute sweet dish is ready to eat. That's doodh paua in the real 'foodie' term...
Let me know how you liked these two-minute snacks...
-Gauri Gharpure
Thursday, September 13, 2007
It's that time of being
It's that time of being
When nothing's in my hands
No thoughts listen to me
No dreams stand by my side.
It's that time of being
That all is well
Yet all is in shambles;
No thoughts listen to me.
It's that time of my being
That memories insist to stay,
The present begins to fade,
The past has begun to take shape...
It's that time of my being.
-Gauri
Saturday, September 08, 2007
To meet ol' friends
To meet ol' friends
You need no introduction,
No elaborate parties,
No reasons, no celebrations...
Just a cup of tea
And so it be.
Lots of laughter
And memories...
To meet ol' friends
You need no clothes new,
No perfume, no jewellery
Just your smile will do...
To meet ol' friends
You need nothing else,
All you need to do;
Is your being You.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
What teachers teach...
It seems that the one person who never really grows old is a teacher. In the company of his students, a real teacher never loses the pace of time, he always remains youthful in his thoughts and attitude towards life.
This species of human profession is most easily the one to be long remembered with deep gratitude and fondness. Everyone has a corner of reverence reserved in his heart for some special teacher. Here are a few golden words from my most beloved teachers…
“No matter what, love your students”, said Fr. John Joseph Morondo, the most lovable septuagenarian teacher of our high school.
“Some (students) might be naughty and some might be outright irritating, but no matter what, you should learn to love them all” answered Fr. Morondo when asked what he thought a good teacher should be like.
His way of teaching was passé any description- he drew and explained biology diagrams with the most obscure similies. Our favourite was when he likened a typical nucleated animal cell after drawing a largish cuboid with a circle inside- to a ‘washing machine’. His classes were pure, simple biology taught in the most direct and lighthearted manner…
Read, Read and Read More said Ishwarbhai Patel. He taught mathematics, but as is the wont of all good teachers, this septuagenarian taught his students much more than numbers.
He implored us to develop a solid reading habit and urged us to read: anything and everything from newspapers, magazines, literature to general knowledge. ‘The more you read, the more you grow’ was his motto.
Learn to say ‘I Don’t Know’ said Joseph Pinto, our editing professor. He was a taskmaster and scoring anything above six in his tests seemed a feat. He took the ‘I Don’t Know’ rule very seriously and promised us to give half a mark on each IDK in the answer sheet rather than we beat round the bush and ‘make silly stories’.
‘You either know, or you don’t know. There are no two ways about it.’, thundered Prof Pinto and how we still fondly remember that growl…
“Have a cold shower”, said Rajendrasinh Jadeja, Camp Coordinator at the wildlife camps we went with him. ‘Cold showers shake of your sleep instantly’, he said. Hot water baths were a strict ‘no-no’ on his list and he supplemented his dislike for a hot splurging luxury by adding ‘It only makes you sluggish.’
Discipline was a way of life for this nature-lover and he saw to it that for the little while that we were at the camp, we stopped being the spoilt brats we were and adhered to a well-chalked out daily schedule.
“Respect food” urges my seventy-nine year old grandmother as often as she can. Aaji, herself a teacher by profession, taught unaccountable number of things- the foremost being respecting food. She insists that any kind of wastage of food is simply unacceptable- given the thousands of those who starve each day in spite of toiling hard in our country.
By Gauri Gharpure
This species of human profession is most easily the one to be long remembered with deep gratitude and fondness. Everyone has a corner of reverence reserved in his heart for some special teacher. Here are a few golden words from my most beloved teachers…
“No matter what, love your students”, said Fr. John Joseph Morondo, the most lovable septuagenarian teacher of our high school.
“Some (students) might be naughty and some might be outright irritating, but no matter what, you should learn to love them all” answered Fr. Morondo when asked what he thought a good teacher should be like.
His way of teaching was passé any description- he drew and explained biology diagrams with the most obscure similies. Our favourite was when he likened a typical nucleated animal cell after drawing a largish cuboid with a circle inside- to a ‘washing machine’. His classes were pure, simple biology taught in the most direct and lighthearted manner…
Read, Read and Read More said Ishwarbhai Patel. He taught mathematics, but as is the wont of all good teachers, this septuagenarian taught his students much more than numbers.
He implored us to develop a solid reading habit and urged us to read: anything and everything from newspapers, magazines, literature to general knowledge. ‘The more you read, the more you grow’ was his motto.
Learn to say ‘I Don’t Know’ said Joseph Pinto, our editing professor. He was a taskmaster and scoring anything above six in his tests seemed a feat. He took the ‘I Don’t Know’ rule very seriously and promised us to give half a mark on each IDK in the answer sheet rather than we beat round the bush and ‘make silly stories’.
‘You either know, or you don’t know. There are no two ways about it.’, thundered Prof Pinto and how we still fondly remember that growl…
“Have a cold shower”, said Rajendrasinh Jadeja, Camp Coordinator at the wildlife camps we went with him. ‘Cold showers shake of your sleep instantly’, he said. Hot water baths were a strict ‘no-no’ on his list and he supplemented his dislike for a hot splurging luxury by adding ‘It only makes you sluggish.’
Discipline was a way of life for this nature-lover and he saw to it that for the little while that we were at the camp, we stopped being the spoilt brats we were and adhered to a well-chalked out daily schedule.
“Respect food” urges my seventy-nine year old grandmother as often as she can. Aaji, herself a teacher by profession, taught unaccountable number of things- the foremost being respecting food. She insists that any kind of wastage of food is simply unacceptable- given the thousands of those who starve each day in spite of toiling hard in our country.
By Gauri Gharpure
Monday, September 03, 2007
A bookmark
I had once made a bookmark
Out of pink bougainvillea leaves
I wonder where it is now,
And if it still lives.
If it lies forgotten in books
Or if it still marks a page,
Whether the pink has faded to yellow
But if the memory still stays.
I wonder who has it now
Or rather, who hasn’t
I had made a bookmark once,
Out of pink bougainvillea leaves…
September 2, 2007
-Gauri Gharpure
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Celebration
I will cook tonight,
All your favourite dishes.
A long drive after that, may be?
Or whatever you say, we will...
Say Cheers, Dear...
Or even if you dont, I will.
Dont be modest, don't you underplay it
(Still, whatever you say, we will...)
I won't nag tonight
(If I say I won't, I will!)
It's time to celebrate, isn't it,
So whatever you say, we will...
Let's make new memories
And let the old ones fade
Let's celebrate tonight,
Each being the other's reason...
A Chocolate cake?
But you don't like sweets...
Ah! I know what,
Veg Frankies and Cheese!
Let's begin the journey again,
The way we did (Remember Feb the 24th?)
A long drive, may be?
Or whatever you say, we will...
Sunday, May 13, 2007
The Sycophant Circle
What has the classroom become like?
Simply put, it has become a venting machine of sorts for them to come and puke out their frustrations and inaccomplishments. They call this teaching...
The process boils up to be a personal vendetta table, where you cross each name which begs to differ. It's an opinionated hierarchy. But mind you- the opinions can arise only from one side of the room, any idea arising from a bench- however genuine it may be cannot hold grounds against the table on which the attendance sheet lies...
There's no space for discussions, arguments, there's no space for a difference of opinion. Often the teacher will go round and round a topic, criticising students for their answers till he himself produces his 'right stream of thought'. Was all the prodding merely an exercise of ego-satisfaction? An exercise in which students are tended like a flock of sheep, expected to walk on pre-decided terrains and think only on those lines which the professor thinks right? Today, education has become more or less a passive exercise- questions are not entertained, unless they are the sort of questions which the teacher can answer...
And then there's this Sycophant Circle...
It's a gathering of ambitious wannabe intellectuals who have just about started preening their down feathers and dream big to fly the same dictatorial regimes like their well-chosen idols...
Classrooms have turned into the battlegrounds of bureaucracy, the centre of attention of any educational institution is invariably a dingy canteen, the centre of affection the canteen staff, which doesn't feign hypocrisy while providing low quality food for high rates. They cheat with a sense of open dignity. That's why they win our affection.
Education?! It's cheating all the way through under the mask of pseudo intellectualism...
Simply put, it has become a venting machine of sorts for them to come and puke out their frustrations and inaccomplishments. They call this teaching...
The process boils up to be a personal vendetta table, where you cross each name which begs to differ. It's an opinionated hierarchy. But mind you- the opinions can arise only from one side of the room, any idea arising from a bench- however genuine it may be cannot hold grounds against the table on which the attendance sheet lies...
There's no space for discussions, arguments, there's no space for a difference of opinion. Often the teacher will go round and round a topic, criticising students for their answers till he himself produces his 'right stream of thought'. Was all the prodding merely an exercise of ego-satisfaction? An exercise in which students are tended like a flock of sheep, expected to walk on pre-decided terrains and think only on those lines which the professor thinks right? Today, education has become more or less a passive exercise- questions are not entertained, unless they are the sort of questions which the teacher can answer...
And then there's this Sycophant Circle...
It's a gathering of ambitious wannabe intellectuals who have just about started preening their down feathers and dream big to fly the same dictatorial regimes like their well-chosen idols...
Classrooms have turned into the battlegrounds of bureaucracy, the centre of attention of any educational institution is invariably a dingy canteen, the centre of affection the canteen staff, which doesn't feign hypocrisy while providing low quality food for high rates. They cheat with a sense of open dignity. That's why they win our affection.
Education?! It's cheating all the way through under the mask of pseudo intellectualism...
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Bheja Fry....
Bheja Fry is actually therapeutic! It can leave a rib-tickling sense of pleasure long after you have left the movie hall...
The witty storyline revolves around the perverse tendencies of human nature and takes a hilarious turn when our perverse, rich businessman Ranjeet Thadani (Rajat Kapoor) comes across an uncanny 'bakra' for his weekly friday parties.
And then he breaks his back, thanks to which the audience can enjoy Bharat Bhushan (Vinay Pathak), the 'bakra' in his unrestrained lyrical and comical and bhojpuri glory...
Bheja Fry, to put it in the most understated terms is a humourous delight.
To describe the comic nature of this movie is albiet tricky...The sheer purity of humour in Bheja Fry lies in the subtle and keen observations of daily life transformed with utmost skill on the screen by the story writers, artists and the director. Case in point is the 'It's ringing' alert which Bharat Bhushan insists on giving every time he dials a number and the crackling sound of the red and yellow plastic bag when our when he proudly takes out his scrapbook...
The more or less dark lighting, clever camera angles highlight the tasteful interiors, huge paintings and work to keep the two central characters in focus while also successfully giving a rich look. Somewhere under the wraps of sheer laughter, thanks to the utter incorrigible tendencies of Bharat Bhushan, also lies a trail of irony, sarcasm and misplaced morality directed at the businessman whose marriage suddenly seems all set to break- and the timing couldn't be better!
Thanks to his self-chosen 'idiot', a number of calls to trace his wife lead to a lucid plot, fast and happening and full of punch- bringing on scene a nymphomaniac, his wife's former lover, and an eccentric income tax officer...
Debuntant director Sagar Ballary should get a standing ovation to bring to Indian audiences one rocking movie...
-Gauri Gharpure
The witty storyline revolves around the perverse tendencies of human nature and takes a hilarious turn when our perverse, rich businessman Ranjeet Thadani (Rajat Kapoor) comes across an uncanny 'bakra' for his weekly friday parties.
And then he breaks his back, thanks to which the audience can enjoy Bharat Bhushan (Vinay Pathak), the 'bakra' in his unrestrained lyrical and comical and bhojpuri glory...
Bheja Fry, to put it in the most understated terms is a humourous delight.
To describe the comic nature of this movie is albiet tricky...The sheer purity of humour in Bheja Fry lies in the subtle and keen observations of daily life transformed with utmost skill on the screen by the story writers, artists and the director. Case in point is the 'It's ringing' alert which Bharat Bhushan insists on giving every time he dials a number and the crackling sound of the red and yellow plastic bag when our when he proudly takes out his scrapbook...
The more or less dark lighting, clever camera angles highlight the tasteful interiors, huge paintings and work to keep the two central characters in focus while also successfully giving a rich look. Somewhere under the wraps of sheer laughter, thanks to the utter incorrigible tendencies of Bharat Bhushan, also lies a trail of irony, sarcasm and misplaced morality directed at the businessman whose marriage suddenly seems all set to break- and the timing couldn't be better!
Thanks to his self-chosen 'idiot', a number of calls to trace his wife lead to a lucid plot, fast and happening and full of punch- bringing on scene a nymphomaniac, his wife's former lover, and an eccentric income tax officer...
Debuntant director Sagar Ballary should get a standing ovation to bring to Indian audiences one rocking movie...
-Gauri Gharpure
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Where the road ends...
Evening time, especially on those days when it gets cloudy for no reason at all, seems ideal to allow melancholy to set. And when you let your thoughts loose in such quaint, lonely moments, you are often astonished at the expanse of subjects your mind can brood on...
On many a silent evenings like described above, I pass by frail old men and women and my thoughts find themselves wandering about in many hither-to untreaded terrains...
Some grandpas and grandmas are bent horizontaly from the level of their waist, almost parallel to the street they are advancing on... And then there are old gentlemen who religiously go about their evening strolls irrespective of the unruly traffic and the general self-engrossed buzz of life around them...
On one walk back home, an old man walking in front of me simply fell head straight on the road. He started his efforts to get back to his feet as soon as his nose bit the dust. With some difficutly and a little (politely refused) help, he was standing up again, although a somewhat sheepish, helpless emotion now covered his face.
What was he thinking when he resumed his walk again, I wonder... What does it feel to get old? To know that you are at the end of your existence and to be remined of the fact time and again by such incidences when your faculties start failing you?
It was late one night when we were leaving a restaurant. While we were looking for a rickshaw on the deserted road, we saw this strange figure totally leaning on a bicycle, shakily covering small distances in patches- with small breaks to catch his breathe. He pulled his body and the bicycle in a slow, effortsome manner... When we asked if he was sick and needed some help, he happily started explaining that he was perfectly alright and he was returning from a friend's place after watching his favourite film. He then he described his love for cinema and proceeded to tell us where his residence was. The distance he was to travel to reach home was another three kilometers at the least...
Gloom was definitely not on the mind of this old man, his spirits were livelier and his passion more passionate than even many of my age. His enthusiasm more than made up for his failing body...
My superstitious mind could not help assigning a deeper meaning to this chance meeting with a zealous old man in the middle of night, whose spirit far outweighed the decline of his health. It was one of the best lessons of enthusiasm and independence that I have ever learnt.
The thought of age, rather, the thought process of the aged always leaves me intrigued. Old people walking on busy streets, lonely men and women gathered in parks, or those unfortunate aged who's family seems to have completely forgotten their existence- how do they feel about the prospect of approaching death...
It's a very sensitive topic, but then, don't many old people whom we communicate with have that characterisitic emotion of resignation equalling to something like 'dont discuss the future with me, I may not be there'. They may be the strongest and most talented bunch of people, yet something about their attitude is way too realistic and philosophical to ignore. Actually, it's scarry...
When my aaji laments how her memory has begun to fail her, a painful shudder passes my heart. On the rare moments when that strong lady talks about the future with a sign of resignation and uncertainty, the helplessness we mortals associate with death stares in my face...
Old age is a very sensitive mixture of emotions... An old person should be regarded as a treasure for any household. The experience which comes with years is beyond evaluation. Their health may be failing them and also be a matter of concern for others, but give attention to their thoughts and attitude and you may learn a few important tips to sail the business of living for your entire life. Such is their wisdom.
I only hope all homes which are blessed to have the company of the old realise the significance of what they have- and what through they may soon lose- the wisdom of age...
GauriGC
On many a silent evenings like described above, I pass by frail old men and women and my thoughts find themselves wandering about in many hither-to untreaded terrains...
Some grandpas and grandmas are bent horizontaly from the level of their waist, almost parallel to the street they are advancing on... And then there are old gentlemen who religiously go about their evening strolls irrespective of the unruly traffic and the general self-engrossed buzz of life around them...
On one walk back home, an old man walking in front of me simply fell head straight on the road. He started his efforts to get back to his feet as soon as his nose bit the dust. With some difficutly and a little (politely refused) help, he was standing up again, although a somewhat sheepish, helpless emotion now covered his face.
What was he thinking when he resumed his walk again, I wonder... What does it feel to get old? To know that you are at the end of your existence and to be remined of the fact time and again by such incidences when your faculties start failing you?
It was late one night when we were leaving a restaurant. While we were looking for a rickshaw on the deserted road, we saw this strange figure totally leaning on a bicycle, shakily covering small distances in patches- with small breaks to catch his breathe. He pulled his body and the bicycle in a slow, effortsome manner... When we asked if he was sick and needed some help, he happily started explaining that he was perfectly alright and he was returning from a friend's place after watching his favourite film. He then he described his love for cinema and proceeded to tell us where his residence was. The distance he was to travel to reach home was another three kilometers at the least...
Gloom was definitely not on the mind of this old man, his spirits were livelier and his passion more passionate than even many of my age. His enthusiasm more than made up for his failing body...
My superstitious mind could not help assigning a deeper meaning to this chance meeting with a zealous old man in the middle of night, whose spirit far outweighed the decline of his health. It was one of the best lessons of enthusiasm and independence that I have ever learnt.
The thought of age, rather, the thought process of the aged always leaves me intrigued. Old people walking on busy streets, lonely men and women gathered in parks, or those unfortunate aged who's family seems to have completely forgotten their existence- how do they feel about the prospect of approaching death...
It's a very sensitive topic, but then, don't many old people whom we communicate with have that characterisitic emotion of resignation equalling to something like 'dont discuss the future with me, I may not be there'. They may be the strongest and most talented bunch of people, yet something about their attitude is way too realistic and philosophical to ignore. Actually, it's scarry...
When my aaji laments how her memory has begun to fail her, a painful shudder passes my heart. On the rare moments when that strong lady talks about the future with a sign of resignation and uncertainty, the helplessness we mortals associate with death stares in my face...
Old age is a very sensitive mixture of emotions... An old person should be regarded as a treasure for any household. The experience which comes with years is beyond evaluation. Their health may be failing them and also be a matter of concern for others, but give attention to their thoughts and attitude and you may learn a few important tips to sail the business of living for your entire life. Such is their wisdom.
I only hope all homes which are blessed to have the company of the old realise the significance of what they have- and what through they may soon lose- the wisdom of age...
GauriGC
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
A thin layer...
A thin layer shields
Love from lust,
Desire from want
And sin from the sacred.
That clever masquerade
Of good covered up as evil,
And the bad done up as lucrative;
Of pros mingled with cons
And fake draped with genuine…
A thin layer indeed
Of right distanced from wrong.
Gauri GC
March 31’ 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
Thoughts...
I wish sometimes, if i could live between the illusions of life and dreams, tread the mystical path of the subconscious, and freeze the existence which lingers between living and dying. I wish I could be more awake in my sleep, and bring out the meanings of the bittersweet intercourse I have with my memories, my future and my sorrow...
********
If I were you, you would not hesitate to tell me what you really think of me... That's the way I am... And perhaps that's why you and me don't get along.
****************
Let me be me.
That's the introduction I am most comfortable with.
*******************
Gauri GC
Feb 19, 2007
********
If I were you, you would not hesitate to tell me what you really think of me... That's the way I am... And perhaps that's why you and me don't get along.
****************
Let me be me.
That's the introduction I am most comfortable with.
*******************
Gauri GC
Feb 19, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Thought for the day...
Guard your dreams with ferocity, with passion. Be brutal to those who attempt to scorn at your idiosyncrasies. And stay away from them for good...
-Gauri
-Gauri
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