April 27, 2016

THE ART OF WICKET-KEEPING : THE UTTAKH-BHAITAKH BREED - RAMCHANDRA GUHA




THE ART OF WICKET-KEEPING - THE UTTAKH-BHAITAKH BREED 

BY RAMCHANDRA GUHA 


The essay " The Art of Wicket Keeping : The Uttakh - Bhaitakh Breed ' written by a famous cricket journalist Ramachandra Guha. The essay ends with a long list of attributes that a wicket keeper should have the eligibility and qualification criteria to select a wicket keeper. The task of a wicket - keeper is difficult. It is more challenging than that of a batsman or a bowler. A wicket - keeper has to be mentally alert and physically fit. He has to manage the weight of heavy gloves and pads. He has to crouch in an uncomfortable position behind, the wickets. He has to be fearless and unmindful of danger. His reflexes must be quick and he must remain discussed at all times. He cannot afford to be distracted by the spectators. A wicket - keeper does not get another chance if he makes a mistake. As the position demands such rare qualities and painstaking attention, it is understood be the tough job. The writer aptly comments that the mission of a Prime Minister of a coalition government is easier than the job of a wicket keeper of Indian team.

GENDER BIAS BY SUDHA MURTHY




GENDER BIAS BY SUDHA MURTHY 


The essay GENDER BIAS written by SUDHA MURTHY, a well known social worker and author. The essay ‘Gender Bias’ is taken from the collection titled ‘How I Taught my Grandmother to Read’. Sudha Murthy is renowned for her noble mission of providing computer and library facilities in all government schools of Karnataka. She is the Chairperson of Infosys Foundation. 

In this essay Sudha Murthy narrates how she initially faced gender discrimination but later succeeded in getting a job in Telco. Sudha Murthy’s style of writing is simple and direct and communicates her ideas clearly. The essay is both enjoyable and inspiring. 

ROBOTS AND PEOPLE - ISAAC ASIMOV

***

ROBOTS AND PEOPLE BY ISAAC ASIMOV 

The stories grew from Asimov’s opinion that anyone smart enough to create robots would be smart enough to make sure that those robots wouldn’t attack their makers. Conceived by Asimov as the Three Laws of Robotics - essential laws built into the robots’ inner workings - these Laws freed science fiction writers to develop robots as characters instead of portraying them as monstrous things. I, ROBOT hint loudly that robots are a “better breed” than humans and though they were created to serve, they will inevitably become the masters. 

Beginning with a simple story about the relationship between a little girl and a limited - function robot, I Robot moves on to explore, in subsequent stories, increasingly sophisticated thoughts, questions, and moral complexities. In the process the book reveals Asimov’s overarching vision of a future that entangles inextricably the humans and the machines………………… 

*** 

Isaac Asimov was born in Russia but his family moved to New York when he was three years old. A self-proclaimed “child prodigy,” he could read before first grade and had an almost perfect memory. Asimov credits his early intellectual development to public libraries……. “My real education, the superstructure, the details, the true architecture, I got out of the public library. For an impoverished child……. the library was the open door to wonder and achievement.”……..

THINKING OUT OF THE BOX - LATERAL THINKING BY EDWARD DE BONO




THINKING OUT OF THE BOX - LATERAL THINKING 

BY EDWARD DE BONO 


The essay “Thinking out of the Box: Lateral Thinking” is adapted from an article on lateral thinking in the internet Edward de Bono is the main propagator of lateral thinking. The essay explains the importance of lateral thinking in solving problems that we encounter in our daily life. Lateral thinking is a way of thinking that is different from logical thinking. 

De Bono used the technique of six thinking hats. These hats are of different colours. They have a symbolic significance. Each hat represents a particular style of thinking or approach to a problem. De Bono points out that the use of these hats is particularly useful in group discussions. Different members can wear different hats. There is more team work and less ill will an argument. People are more ready to understand and appreciate each other’s point of view. They are less rigid and stubborn. De Bono says that we have to think in new, creative ways to solve problem. We may have to keep changing hats. We wear a white hat when we try to grasp facts, a red hat when we view the emotional aspects of a problem and a black one when we make a judgment. We wear a green hat when we study various alternatives and a yellow one when we look at the pros and cons of an issue. We wear a blue hat when we review our thinking process. Changing hats is interesting and challenging. We come up with different ideas and suggestions………….. Thank you.

April 20, 2016

A SPIDER AND A FLY BY DON MARQUIS


A SPIDER AND A FLY BY DON MARQUIS

“a spider and a fly

i heard a spider

and a fly arguing

wait said the fly

do not eat me

i serve a great purpose

in the world


you will have to

show me said the spider


i scurry around

gutters and sewers

and garbage cans

said the fly and gather

up the germs of

typhoid influenza

and pneumonia on my feet

and wings

then i carry these germs

into households of men

and give them diseases

all the people who

have lived the right

sort of life recover

from the diseases

and the old soaks who

have weakened their systems

with liquor and iniquity

succumb it is my mission

to help rid the world

of these wicked persons

i am a vessel of righteousness

scattering seeds of justice

and serving the noblest uses


it is true said the spider

that you are more

useful in a plodding

material sort of way

than i am but i do not

serve the utilitarian deities

i serve the gods of beauty

look at the gossamer webs

i weave they float in the sun

like filaments of song

if you get what i mean

i do not work at anything

i play all the time

i am busy with the stuff

of enchantment and the materials

of fairyland my works

transcend utility

i am the artist

a creator and demi god

it is ridiculous to suppose

that i should be denied

the food i need in order

to continue to create

beauty i tell you

plainly mister fly it is all

damned nonsense for that food

to rear up on its hind legs

and say it should not be eaten


you have convinced me

said the fly say no more

and shutting all his eyes

he prepared himself for dinner

and yet he said i could

have made out a case

for myself too if i had

had a better line of talk


of course you could said the spider

clutching a sirloin from him

but the end would have been

just the same if neither of

us had spoken at all


boss i am afraid that what

the spider said is true

and it gives me to think

furiously upon the futility

of literature

archy”


THE GIVING TREE BY SHEL SILVEERSTEIN


THE GIVING TREE BY SHEL SILVEERSTEIN

Once there was a tree....

and she loved a little boy.

And everyday the boy would come

and he would gather her leaves

and make them into crowns

and play king of the forest.

He would climb up her trunk

and swing from her branches

and eat apples.


And they would play hide-and-go-seek.

And when he was tired,

he would sleep in her shade.

And the boy loved the tree....

very much.

And the tree was happy.

But time went by.

And the boy grew older.

And the tree was often alone.

Then one day the boy came to the tree

and the tree said, 'Come, Boy, come and

climb up my trunk and swing from my

branches and eat apples and play in my

shade and be happy.'

'I am too big to climb and play' said

the boy.

'I want to buy things and have fun.

I want some money?'

'I'm sorry,' said the tree, 'but I

have no money.

I have only leaves and apples.

Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in

the city. Then you will have money and

you will be happy.'

And so the boy climbed up the

tree and gathered her apples

and carried them away.

And the tree was happy.

But the boy stayed away for a long time....

and the tree was sad.

And then one day the boy came back

and the tree shook with joy

and she said, 'Come, Boy, climb up my trunk

and swing from my branches and be happy.'

'I am too busy to climb trees,' said the boy.

'I want a house to keep me warm,' he said.

'I want a wife and I want children,

and so I need a house.

Can you give me a house ?'

' I have no house,' said the tree.

'The forest is my house,

but you may cut off

my branches and build a

house. Then you will be happy.'

And so the boy cut off her branches

and carried them away

to build his house.

And the tree was happy.

But the boy stayed away for a long time.

And when he came back,

the tree was so happy

she could hardly speak.

'Come, Boy,' she whispered,

'come and play.'

'I am too old and sad to play,'

said the boy.

'I want a boat that will

take me far away from here.

Can you give me a boat?'

'Cut down my trunk

and make a boat,' said the tree.

'Then you can sail away...

and be happy.'

And so the boy cut down her trunk

and made a boat and sailed away.

And the tree was happy

... but not really.

And after a long time

the boy came back again.

'I am sorry, Boy,'

said the tree,' but I have nothing

left to give you -

My apples are gone.'

'My teeth are too weak

for apples,' said the boy.

'My branches are gone,'

said the tree. ' You

cannot swing on them - '

'I am too old to swing

on branches,' said the boy.

'My trunk is gone, ' said the tree.

'You cannot climb'

'I am too tired to climb' said the boy.

'I am sorry,' sighed the tree.

'I wish that I could give you something....

but I have nothing left.

I am just an old stump.

I am sorry....'

'I don't need very much now,' said the boy.

'just a quiet place to sit and rest.

I am very tired.'

'Well,' said the tree, straightening

herself up as much as she could,

'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting

Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.'

And the boy did.

And the tree was happy.

THE GIVING TREE BY SHEL SILVERSTEIN

SPOON FEEDING BY W.R.INGE

SPOON FEEDING BY W.R.INGE


Disclaiming against the tendency of modern living conditions to “spoon-feed” the individual, the Very Rev. W. R. Inge, London’s “Gloomy Dean” who is presently upon a lecture tour of the United States, comes to the conclusion, in the course of an article in The Living Age, that nature will make us pay for our easy mode of life, to day. Nature, he argues, will take away any faculty that is not used. 

He cites the savage “who never had any trouble with his teeth,” as against the individual of to day. The savage kept “healthy by the hard work in tearing tough meat without the help of knife and fork.” These implements, he contends, and the art of cookery are reducing man to a toothless animal and are perhaps responsible for such evils as appendicitis and cancer, from which savages hardly suffer at all...............

EQUIPMENT BY EDGAR ALBERT GUEST

EQUIPMENT BY EDGAR ALBERT GUEST


Figure it out for yourself, my lad,

You've all that the greatest of men have had,

Two arms, two hands, two legs, two eyes,

And a brain to use if you would be wise.

With this equipment they all began,

So start for the top and say 'I can.'

Look them over, the wise and great,

They take their food from a common plate

And similar knives and forks they use,

With similar laces they tie their shoes,

The world considers them brave and smart.

But you've all they had when they made their start.

You can triumph and come to skill,

You can be great if only you will,

You're well equipped for what fight you choose,

You have legs and arms and a brain to use,

And the man who has risen, great deeds to do

Began his life with no more than you.

You are the handicap you must face,

You are the one who must choose your place,

You must say where you want to go.

How much you will study the truth to know,

God has equipped you for life, But He

Lets you decide what you want to be.

Courage must come from the soul within,

The man must furnish the will to win,

So figure it out for yourself, my lad,

You were born with all that the great have had,

With your equipment they all began.

Get hold of yourself, and say: 'I can.'

HUMAN FAMILY BY DR. MAYA ANGELOU



HUMAN FAMILY (POEM BY DR. MAYA ANGELOU) 

I note the obvious differences 

in the human family. 

Some of us are serious, 

some thrive on comedy. 

Some declare their lives are lived 

as true profundity, 

and others claim they really live 

the real reality. 

The variety of our skin tones 

can confuse, bemuse, delight, 

brown and pink and beige and purple, 

tan and blue and white. 

I’ve sailed upon the seven seas 

and stopped in every land. 

I’ve seen the wonders of the world, 

not yet one common man. 

I know ten thousand women 

called Jane and Mary Jane, 

but I’ve not seen any two 

who really were the same. 

Mirror twins are different 

although their features jibe, 

and lovers think quite different thoughts 

while lying side by side. 

We love and lose in China, 

we weep on England’s moors, 

and laugh and moan in Guinea, 

and thrive on Spanish shores. 

We seek success in Finland, 

are born and die in Maine. 

In minor ways we differ, 

in major we’re the same. 

I note the obvious differences 

between each sort and type, 

but we are more alike, my friends 

than we are unalike. 

We are more alike, my friends, 

than we are unalike. 

We are more alike, my friends, 

than we are unalike.

THE KITE BY HARRY BEHN


THE KITE BY HARRY BEHN 

(All of us like to fly kites. Have you ever tried to fly one? Read this poem about a kite as it flies in the sky.)

How bright on the blue 

Is a kite when it’s new! 

With a dive and a dip 

It snaps its tail 

Then soars like a ship 

With only a sail 

As over tides 

Of wind it rides, 

Climbs to the crest 

Of a gust and pulls, 

Then seems to rest 

As wind falls. 

When string goes slack 

You wind it back 

And run until 

A new breeze blows 

And its wings fill 

And up it goes! 

How bright on the blue 

Is a kite when it’s new! 

But a raggeder thing 

You never will see 

When it flaps on a string 

In the top of a tree.

HARVEST HYMN BY JOHN BETJEMAN

Harvest Hymn by John Betjeman 


Getting Started 

List the things that we get from Nature. What do we give in return? 

What is likely to happen if there is no land to cultivate in the future? 

We spray the fields and scatter 

The poison on the ground 

So that no wicked wild flowers 

Upon our farm be found. 

We like whatever helps us 

To line our purse with pence; 

The twenty-four-hour broiler-house 

And neat electric fence. 

All concrete sheds around us 

And Jaguars in the yard, 

The telly lounge and deep-freeze 

Are ours from working hard. 

We fire the fields for harvest, 

The hedges swell the flame, 

The oak trees and the cottages 

From which our fathers came. 

We give no compensation, 

The earth is ours today, 

And if we lose on arable, 

The bungalows will pay.

THE GUIDE BY R.K. NARAYAN


THE GUIDE BY R.K. NARAYAN 


R.K. Narayan's fiction depicts the ordinary man's search for selfhood and the struggle he has to encounter on his way to self-realization. His novels are hilariously entertaining and spiritually edifying. The Guide reveals the Indian way of life and also the culture and tradition of India. R.K. Narayan has used typical Indian characters and Indian atmosphere to portray Indian culture. The main characters of this novel are Raju, Rosie and Marco. R.K. Narayan has given a true social picture of India through 'The Guide'.


April 19, 2016

BULL IN THE CITY BY SRIRANGAM SRINIVASA RAO(SRI SRI)

BULL IN THE CITY BY SRIRANGAM SRINIVASA RAO (SRI SRI)


Bull in the City

On the main thoroughfare of the city

The bull casually

Perhaps with the memories from the earlier birth

Chewing the cud with half shut eyes

Without moving or shifting

The bull in the heart of the city.

As if it is the right holder of the road

Leaving the responsibility to the times

Heckling the scampering of the civilisation

Stood there that it is the King!

Who dares to ask the bull to move

Look how it glances around

Aye! Aye! Motor car!

What is the hurry with you?

Oh! Brother Cyclist!

Careful! The bull wouldn't budge!

Anti-machinery, proponent of non-violence and a vegetarian

Expert in anti alcoholism

On the main road of the city

Obstructing the passage of the civility

However long like this

This bull can stand!

If the bull has no sense

Shouldn't the man have it?

నగరంలో వృషభం
నగరం నడి వీధిలో
వృషభం తీరుబాటుగా
గత జన్మ సంస్మృతులు కాబోలు
కనులరమోడ్చి మెదలకుండా
నగరం హృదయంలో వృషభం
దారికి హక్కుదారు తానే అయినట్టు
పరిత్యజించి కాలానికి బాధ్యత
పరిహసించి నాగరికత పరుగు
నిలబడింది నేనే రాజునని
ఎవరు పొమ్మనగల రీ ఎద్దుని
ఎలా చూస్తుందో చూ
ఏయ్ ఏయ్ మోటారుకారూ
ఏవిటేవిటి నీ తొందర
భాయ్ భాయ్ సైక్లిస్ట్
భద్రంసుమీ ఎద్దు నిన్ను తప్పుకోదు
యంత్రవిరోధి అహింసావాది శాకాహారి
మద్య నిషేధ ప్రజ్ఞాశాలి
నగరం నడిమీధిలో
నాగరికత గమనాన్ని నిరోధిస్తూ
ఇలా యెంతసేపయినా సరే
ఈ యెద్దు నిలబడగలదు
ఎద్దుకి లేకపోతే బుద్ధి
మనిషికేనా ఉండొద్దా?

ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH


WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 


William Wordsworth was the great initiator of the Romantic movement. His poetry is full of joy, exploration, seeing the beauty stark and as a vision that becomes unbearable, and needs to be expressed. They are full of the joy of Nature, of life and soothe the heart and the mind in a unique and profoundly original way. For him life was simply an endless fascination for life, nature, living and self discovery. At times he sees with such a blinding vision of divine beauty, it leaves us shocked, and he makes that divinity of nature believable, as he had experienced. 

ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

I HAVE a boy of five years old; 

His face is fair and fresh to see; 

His limbs are cast in beauty's mold 

And dearly he loves me. 

One morn we strolled on our dry walk, 

Or quiet home all full in view, 

And held such intermittent talk 

As we are wont to do. 

My thoughts on former pleasures ran; 

I thought of Kilve's delightful shore, 

Our pleasant home when spring began, 

A long, long year before. 

A day it was when I could bear 

Some fond regrets to entertain; 

With so much happiness to spare, 

I could not feel a pain. 

The green earth echoed to the feet 

Of lambs that bounded through the glade, 

From shade to sunshine, and as fleet 

From sunshine back to shade. 

Birds warbled round me and each trace 

Of inward sadness had its charm; 

Kilve, thought I, was a favoured place, 

And so is Liswyn farm. 

My boy beside me tripped, so slim 

And graceful in his rustic dress! 

And, as we talked, I questioned him, 

In very idleness. 

'Now tell me, had you rather be,' 

I said. and took him by the arm, 

'On Kilve's smooth shore, by the green sea, 

Or here at Liswyn farm?' 

In careless mood he looked at me, 

While still I held him by the arm, 

And said, 'At Kilve I'd rather be 

Than here at Liswyn farm.' 

'Now, little Edward, say why so 

My little Edward, tell me why.' 

'I cannot tell, I do not know.' 

'Why, this is strange,' said I; 

'For, here are woods, hills smooth and warm: 

There surely must one reason be 

Why you would change sweet Liswyn farm 

For Kilve by the green sea.' 

At this, my boy hung down his head, 

He blushed with shame, nor made reply; 

And three times to the child I said, 

'Why, :Edward, tell me why?' 

His head he raised there was in sight, 

It caught his eye, he saw it plain 

Upon the house-top, glittering bright, 

A broad and gilded vane. 

Then did the boy his tongue unlock, 

And eased his mind with this reply: 

'At Kilve there was no weather-cock; 

And that's the reaon why.' 

O dearest, dearest boy! my heart 

For better lore would seldom yearn, 

Could I but teach the hundredth part 

Of what from thee I learn.



TELEVISION BY ROALD DAHL

*

TELEVISION BY ROALD DAHL

The most important thing we've learned,

So far as children are concerned,

Is never, NEVER, NEVER let

Them near your television set -

Or better still, just don't install

The idiotic thing at all.

In almost every house we've been,

We've watched them gaping at the screen.

They loll and slop and lounge about,

And stare until their eyes pop out.

(Last week in someone's place we saw

A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)

They sit and stare and stare and sit

Until they're hypnotised by it,

Until they're absolutely drunk

With all that shocking ghastly junk.

Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,

They don't climb out the window sill,

They never fight or kick or punch,

They leave you free to cook the lunch

And wash the dishes in the sink --

But did you ever stop to think,

To wonder just exactly what

This does to your beloved tot?

IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!

IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!

IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!

IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND

HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND

A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!

HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!

HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!

HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!

'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,

'But if we take the set away,

What shall we do to entertain

Our darling children? Please explain!'

We'll answer this by asking you,

'What used the darling ones to do?

'How used they keep themselves contented

Before this monster was invented?'

Have you forgotten? Don't you know?

We'll say it very loud and slow:

THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,

AND READ and READ, and then proceed

To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!

One half their lives was reading books!

The nursery shelves held books galore!

Books cluttered up the nursery floor!

And in the bedroom, by the bed,

More books were waiting to be read!

Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales

Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales

And treasure isles, and distant shores

Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,

And pirates wearing purple pants,

And sailing ships and elephants,

And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,

Stirring away at something hot.

(It smells so good, what can it be?

Good gracious, it's Penelope.)

The younger ones had Beatrix Potter

With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,

And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,

And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-

Just How The Camel Got His Hump,

And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,

And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,

There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-

Oh, books, what books they used to know,

Those children living long ago!

So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,

Go throw your TV set away,

And in its place you can install

A lovely bookshelf on the wall.

Then fill the shelves with lots of books,

Ignoring all the dirty looks,

The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,

And children hitting you with sticks-

Fear not, because we promise you

That, in about a week or two

Of having nothing else to do,

They'll now begin to feel the need

Of having something to read.

And once they start - oh boy, oh boy!

You watch the slowly growing joy

That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen

They'll wonder what they'd ever seen

In that ridiculous machine,

That nauseating, foul, unclean,

Repulsive television screen!

And later, each and every kid

Will love you more for what you did.

April 16, 2016

ON FRIENDSHIP BY KAHLIL GIBRAN

ON FRIENDSHIP BY KAHLIL GIBRAN 


And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship."

Your friend is your needs answered.

He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanks giving.

And he is your board and your fireside.

For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."

And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;

For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unclaimed.

When you part from your friend, you grieve not;

For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.

For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend.

If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.

For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?

Seek him always with hours to live.

For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.

For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

MOTHER'S DAY BY SHIV K KUMAR

MOTHER'S DAY BY SHIV K KUMAR

We do it differently

in this dark continent.

Not just once a year

a string of spurious verses

ensconced in a bouquet

shaped like Chinese house of dreams.

My mother is more demanding -

an obeisance at each sunrise,

like a devotee throwing a handful

of yellow rice to the birds.

Holding a candelabrum before an idol,

Just once a year

Is desecrating it.

Whenever I see a caterpillar slouching

towards a pansy's eye,

or hear ancestral voices in a wind's howl,

I invoke my deity -

sometimes twice a day.