An all familiar rankling stirred the sleepy eyes. A spray of rain drops from that almost invisible crack on the window pane brought back a flurry of thoughts. Navigating byzantine memory lanes isn’t all that difficult, especially when you know what you are looking for. It was the same old crack which had set of a chain of events. It still remained there, not speaking about the complacency of the resident, but of those memories it harbored…
Come monsoon, skies are awash with grey looming clouds. The drizzle had already made its presence felt to me…I wasn’t out in the rain, but sleeping on a bed.. rather more like another article forming a sea of inanimate objects jostling for space on that tiny little bed. Chill breeze through the crack brought along an occasional bout of spray, refreshingly frosty and a break from the monotony called life. Somehow, the spray of misty blue water was an aberration to an otherwise placid stifling setting of the room. I decided it was time to fix the crack, not because I was annoyed by the spray, but more because of the fixated lunacy about the spray being so genuinely out of place in this lifeless room of 10 x 10.
Walking up to the window and trying to give one hard look at the mischievous crack which dared to try me, my eyes narrowed on to a shuffle outside. Had it not been for the voluptuousness of the creature out in the rain, my crack would have still held my gaze. Here was I, trying to improve my gaze, get more of what was being thrown at me. It should have been eons since man made his first civilized break, yet here was I ,stirred to the basest of instincts a man could feel. There was something more ,those eyes…
Large black eyes, a bit larger and it would have fitted the description ‘bulbous’. There was a glint of wild yet draped by genuine unfathomable warmth. She was wet ,her silhouette making its presence amply felt .There is something innate about certain actions, which throw the seeds of doubt, inhibition self evaluation right through the window. It was same for both of us, for what transpired next was in line with those actions…actions, which in any other circumstance, context would be baptized by some very alluring adjectives. I threw open the window and asked her to come in. Not even a for a moment did the doubt of her refusing flicker , even for an effervescent time.
What happened next is for your lucid (lewd?) imaginatory juices to take over the reigns …yes, the crack still remains and so does the bizarre events which followed and more so the memory like a whip flogging a horse, a horse for which the laceration inflicted is just another thing…yet, no denying it…it does surface, every time the spray spouts like a beached whale ………

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The version of Ringa-Ringa Roses ryhme i knew since my childhood was:

Ringa Ringa Roses
Pocket full of Poses
“Husha Busha!”
We all fall down!

Recently i came accross a site which gave the US and UK versions of this ryhme:
US version:

Ring around the rosy
A pocketful of posies
“Ashes, Ashes”
We all fall down!

UK Version:

Ring-a-Ring o’Rosies
A Pocket full of Posies
“A-tishoo! A-tishoo!”
We all fall Down!

Dileep had once told me about the history of this ryhme. Also found somewhere in web that this  little rhyme has its origins to the time of plague in London back in the 17th century. Symptoms of plague included a rosy red rash in the shape of ring. Sweet smelling poises were put in pockets to prevent the spread of the disease, since it was believed that the disease was spread through bad smell. Ashes Ashes we all fall down refers to cremation of dead bodies. How sad :-(. The British version “A-tishoo A-tishoo” referred to sneezing which was also a symptom of plague.

Only 0.1% Fat 

Fashion Claims more victims than you think – wwf

Save Trees – wwf

Old version of Gandhiji’s 3 monkeys…

… and new version

Can not see India losing.

Can not hear the audience outburst against the team.

Can not speak in front of media about the causes of defeat.  

Bhagat Singh, Rajguru and Sukhdev…. thank you for all you have done to us. its been 76 years for today.

Sehwag’s son: (watching his dad playing on TV) Mom, look here, dad is belting the bowlers. He is hitting fours and sixes continuously.
Sehwag’s wife: (from kitchen) No beta, look at it properly. it should be an advertisement.

   Kannada and Telugu are considered as sister languages of South India. Some words are almost same among them and many are just a small variants. The scripts of these languages almost resemble each other. When one tries to find out which one is older, no perfect evidences are found. Some say telugu and some kannada. I have tried finding out this in my own way.
   The merits i have considered here are:
1. Many languages can be derived from a parent language.
2. Child languages may derive its own script some time later to derived language and gradually drift off from its parent over a period of time.
3. So, the language with older script is older.
4. The information i got from is from genuine source.
5. The results are bound to these inputs only. Results may vary if more constraints are put.

   The scripts of telugu language of various times/ages are as given below. Observe the letter ‘ka’ in these images.

   These resemble the ‘ka’ of present kannada script. There may be few other letters like this. There is another chart which tells the lineage of telugu script. Here too the telugu is said to be derived from old kannada.

   Hence we can derive a conclusion that Kannada is older to Telugu.