Red and White

Photo courtesy: CEPT Website http://cept.ac.in

Or, ‘The Internet’- according to the wise men/women

There is a rumor at times that Santa dresses a combination of red and white because of Coke’s influence in the history. It is an American phenomenon, otherwise Santa used to be green and white. Ask one of my color challenged friend, who lives in America, and with whom I used to share the same green lawns, note green, and do idle nothing but gaze at the stars. This portion of South Lawns has a nice gentle slope to lay on one’s back. The lawn has a small, and only one inside the lawn, a small eight foot tree. Owl has big eyes, and when they gaze they really gaze. It was year 1998. We then felt, Christmas goes well with the soft chill of the city. This tree was frequently used as Christmas tree.

It was by sheer coincidence that I walked past the same lawns recently on the evening of 25^th December 2010. And, looking at the small area on the green lawns around the tree, it took me no time in recollecting a conversation I had a few days back, before christmas, with one of the cultural secretaries, a student of the place. He mentioned he is looking for a good Christmas party this year. He also has had ideas not only for a Santa but a Banta as well. Now, walking past the lawns I noted bursted remnants of red and white balloons suspended to the delicate branches of the delicate tree, and some remnants and discarded white paper plates around. The red and white combination was left to the next agency, the puens and the safaiwalas. In fact, in that distinguishable waste, I also saw a Classic Milds packet too, not an American product at all.  

It looked like the party went well with all jubiliancy.

“So this is Christmas…”,

John Lennon <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HG7TZEaO6lI>

---

Puen = n. Handman

Safaiwala = n. Cleaner

Race to Liberty

India is a phunny country, some like to call it absurd too, I say the same too, sometimes. Its communal places, like hospitals and schools have alertness and educational messages, mostly on walls, and sometimes on desktop screens. These are one liners usually. Such as-

"Nobody will believe in you unless you believe in yourself"

- Liberace

Now, who the hell is Liberace?

Mahes?

Morning sun, dew and games for the handicapped

Morning orange sun feels nice on the face. The sun is not strong, and one can feel the morning dew. This is one of the common mornings in Bodakdev of Ahmedabad. Bend is happy to see kids being loaded into the back of a tempo. They are to be transported to the play grounds at Maninagar of Ahmedabad. He is told, recently made, the play facilities are well equipped world class. One staff tells these kids are being transported to prepare for the handicapped games. The P.T. teacher dressed in white pants and white shirt is ensuring each one is tightly fitted on the back of the three-wheeler. He wants to ensure their safety on the unsafe roads of Amdawad city.

In the same compound, Banjo and some left out kids are busy in their own world. They are happy having Banjo fetch the ball thrown long-distance every time, which the dog when he brings it back drops to pant his tongue out.

Bend doesn’t belongs to the happy lot, for he notes the dismal infrastructure, slowness, condition of the tempo, frowning teacher blowing whistle all the time. He sees a team that will perform yet underperform at another handicapped games arrangement that exist in a big nation; a country that houses one fifth of the world’s population. Inside the country the differently-abled will perform, internationally not to be seen.

Or, the reason for Bends disillusionment with this disabled arrangement could be something else. It could be his upbringing, living, and the way he perceives things presently. The sun and the dew are stronger, they sooth him- also, the panting dog.

Liberty downer

I don't understand this part of the doctrine of democracy. Why do some really want liberty downest to the lowest level of an individual, like, a man's? I suggest, we bring it downer; say, to a dog's level.

Transportation modes available to Banjo

In Ahmedabad, year 2010, mass public transport vehicles such as the public bus, known as AMTS, is a complete no for Banjo. His presence may create panic and scare otherwise ordinary people traveling by the bus. He is already a perceived danger when he walks the streets- a fifteen month old Labrador pet. It is highly likely that the kind-man (man-kind) may protest his presence in the bus too. Well, things are not that bad, for Banjo is among the lucky few of his kinds around. He has other personal modes of transport available too, although walking is his favorite.

Let me tell you, he is crazy about the Bullet, a heavy motorcycle which his master Bend owns. Since a few decades, the production of this R(G)oyal Bullet has had ceased in Royal England as old generation bikes have given way to the new. And, recently, these Bullet bikes have found a new immense popularity in India with a certain youth – the youth which can afford it. The Bullet which never ditches you, has style, is louder in loud streets, and is relatively a comfortabler and an exciting ride. Banjo would always insist for a ride.

Car falls later in Banjo’s preference list. Bend usually drives it with the windows up, closed, and perhaps Banjo doesn’t likes its secure cut off air with the outside world. There is a risk that Banjo may jump out of the window in excitement of the smells outside or eye contact with the other dogs on the street. Inside is a micro-climate envelope, where this contact, in particular smell contact, is broken. Climate changed, just images the dog may be observing. It gets more boring in winters, for in summers the dog at least has the air conditioner to eat up? Bend learns, you rob a dog of his smell, you rob him of everything. On longer drives on highways, country sides, Banjo prefers to curl himself for a comfortable doze in the car. It is beautiful when the sun shines through the glass and the living creature is sleeping quiet.

Halfway during one seemingly long morning walk with Banjo, one day, Bend chose to return home in an auto-rickshaw. The auto-rickshaw driver was surprised with Bend’s question if he wouldn’t mind a dog. The poor looking wrinkle faced man laughed on an unusual question. He was amused to see two smart chaps early in the morning, requesting a paid ride. Bend thought Banjo would love auto-rickshaw too because he himself loves the sound and air of it. He was keen to take a note of Banjo’s reactions. Rather, the unconcerned dog preferred to bark at the street dogs he came across, and aroused their curiosity in return too. Banjo didn’t find anything special in the alternative transport form, except for the driver, who perhaps just loved another small excitement in his life, otherwise a tough day, which has become a regular, just about to begin.

Bend uses Banjo to take notes

How much Banjo makes it easier for Bend to gather a few notes, only Bend knows.

These days, local Gujju shops have started to put air-conditioned cooling and glass partition at their front- be it an ATM, a bakery, frozen meat shop, or a local grocery store. These are only a few though. When the dog walk is accompanied with a purpose of some errand in these shops, Bend would have to leave Banjo outside these spaces. This has a few reasons- one, when these spaces are empty, Banjo is scared to venture inside and starts barking on the door with only his face inside; and when the place is full of people inside, people express either fear or joy, like, “oh my god, dog…”, or, “O mumma, see, kutro*”. Banjo, depending on the friendliness in the atmosphere inside, would venture inside.

In one such incidence, outside an upper crust café bakery in Bodakdev, a Rabari*, sees Bend pat Banjo on his neck and fluff some love massage. It is an unusual sight, for the Rabari himself realizes WTF is he doing here in a city begging and why is he not with his goats. Surely he has Bodakdev contacts, or he is from nearby. He assumes Bend is friendly, cannot help his habit or need, and asks him, “Saab*. Can you give me some money to buy some atta* for the kid?” There are two, less than ten year olds dangling on him or running about in yonder. They are happy. Bend doesnt likes to encourage begging, so he doesn’t say anything. The Rabari is disappointed.

A few moments later, a fat, round and big guy gets out of his heavy big car, BMW type make, or similar. Full of fat, vulnerable as an animal, he is fast paced in his steps towards the bakery; gets startled when he suddenly notices Banjo unknowingly blocking his way. He requests in his commanding voice, “Please, can you control your dog?” Banjo has been standing unchained at the bakery door hoping to get in. He is standing free, head shaking, tounge out in hope.

Bend is somewhere in vicinity, taking notes how as time changes, people now talk more of two extremes that is India.

***
Atta: (noun) Dough
Kutro (noun) Dog
Rabari: (noun) Grazer from Gujarat, India
Saab: (noun) Sir. (Similar to Sahib (Colonial))

China make or India make?

Any dog's face, if you stare and observe at the animal will show you how cute or angry or worried it is. Many times he may also convey hope on his face too; usually when you have biscuits or something tasty at bay. Banjo who Bend lives with, gives the same different expressions at different moments to him. Since they both live together, man and dog, Banjo can also easily read Bend’s gestures of love, anger, or worrieness.

It is well documented that Labradors were first reared in NewFoundland (source: Wikipedia) in around 1800AD as waterdogs, and since then have travelled the world afar, making it to one big corner in India its city called Ahmedabad. 2010, Bend cannot gather which route Banjo’s ancestors took, for the friend who had arranged the dog simply refused to divulge his source, ancestral and route details. He said, “I take hundred percent guarantee that it is a Lab. And what more do you want? You wanted a Lab dog and here he is. Look! He is a nice looking one too,” sipping tea.

Both Banjo and Bend, during their Amdavadi morning strolls, when air dew is not yet spoiled by the dusty traffic, frequently encounter other Labradors (Labs) accompanied either with their maaliks or servants. Banjo had been a proud possession to Bend until both had met the biggest Lab of them all – Dg. Sniffer. Surely, Dg. Sniffer is not an exception, because if here in Ahmedabad city, a big Lab double and huger than Banjo and many all the other Labs can exist; it therefore, raises a small fleeting question on the supply source of these increasing numbers of Labradors in the city. Trust Bend, you drive in the new part of the city and in most corners you can see a Labrador being walked.

I wonder if Bend cares, but he assumes that as life changes in the city, individuals do find a good companionship in dogs, and especially Labs, because of their calm relaxed nature, almost zero maintenance, and their ability to express affection when needed. So far so good, but now hearing rumors, Bend is now also diverting his opinion that although Banjo has his roots in Newfoundland- Since a few generations, he and his likes are kind of a dilution, influenced by India or Chinese or other en route genetics. Size is one reason I just mentioned, and the other could be people breeding them in increasing numbers, as giveaway to relatives or for selling in the market. Bend guesses there are more reasons. Take example of Banjo’s actions. Banjo understands the street environment well enough to run, enjoy and play freely on the roads, and not be crushed under a vehicle passing by. He ducks, speeds or adjusts his butt or head accordingly in case the driver has to brake suddenly and thereafter honk. Banjo also has an inherent capacity to judge when to cross roads banks in a flash.

The other thing is Banjo’s eating Habits, Bend notes. Both just love noodles. One should see Banjo waiting persistently in hope for a small doodle of the noodle. And, throw some, he will tilt his head up, fly and grab if needed, and sip the noodle needing help from both tongue and lips.

Chuski

Many a times, I use Google for translating difficult words. For example, to find what 'sage leaf' would mean in Hindi. But this is crazy - see the image below when I tried to search the English for 'chuski'.

Breaking Barriers by Barking

       I mentioned somewhere in my earlier posts, Labradors living here in Amdavad will fall under the paltu* category, and are generally bigger or stronger than their faltu* counterparts, excepting unless not well fed by their maaliks*. Bend is accused of overfeeding Banjo, but then they both compensate by walking a few odd miles every day. During these walks they always meet the faltu type, also known as desi*, who collectively are a loud type. The collective loves to bark endlessly and some like to show that they will bite. They even scare some humans who are taking their hurried morning walks, and their children too starting for their schools at beautiful morning twilight. Strong in posture, Banjo’s personality ensures he is a pet; Labrador and therefore lovable. At first meeting Banjo can look scary too.

       For some reason, the faltu types are usually angry with paltu types, and come running chasing in groups, and especially towards Banjo, who communicates to them in some dog language that life can be more than being territorial and protective. Some bites here and there, their morning walks continue.

****

desi = (n.) of the country India
faltu = (n.) of the streets
maalik = (n.) master
paltu = (n.)of home

Footsteps to follow

Sometimes, it is nice to dig old incidents. This one crops up here because of Steinbeck's brief plot-synopsis within 'The Pearl' used as an archeologist’s tool. I remember how in a village scenario, tracking someone by merely looking down and following his foot-tracks is a simple skill.

Ten years back, fresh out of college, I used to get confused with the word 'footprint', for I had learnt that it means a foot-mark left on a surface. But, working my ass in a village called Patanka replacing traditional mud houses with houseowner’s organic designs, some two hundred odd of them, I used to have my more sophisticated friends talk and discuss, elitely, of a the same word 'footprint', but with a different meaning. More precisely, the word carbon was prefixed and the word became more than words. That time the grassroots concern was somewhere else, and now you can see it is a global concern now.

My concern stays smaller. It is of the skill, the skill which John published of back then in 1947; the skill of tracing/chasing someone wanted or unwanted by following the footprints left on the dusty ground. The melancholy plot-synopsis is of Kino chased during his run. Reminded me of how I was chased by the best chasers of Patanka , a community called Rabari, basically, grazers here who own a lot of sheep and flock, lowest in that village's social ladder of four to five categories. Vajabhai, chased me to be allotted his quota of cement, and complained I had been the toughest catch in his life. My job was to walk around and visit different houses that were being built, to inspect that they were being done proper. He complained that I would circle and walk too much. This made me happy then, and now makes me proud when I look back, for they were good times as we cracked them as jokes. When I discussed this with others in the village, the superior people of the village, they told me that these grazaers are best with this technique of foot following and are usually of help to the community when a theft had taken place. As soon as a theft alarm is raised, unknown footsteps are followed, wrong ones eliminated and a track path invented, in a particular direction, with probabilities worked out that in which village would the thief would have gone to. Villages here, then and now, are distributed by a distance of five to ten kilometers in an average. If pursued, it took a month or two to apprehend the thief.

Now, slowly most of these villages are access roaded with roads that are super highways, otherwise called expressways, motorways or freeways. It can be a useful observation to find how much of the footprint identification skill still remains. I am talking of the smaller issue.

One regular bronze

Read the news (link) to understand the word effort.

A 20km walk, daily, to get water for her family is comparable to once-in-a-lifetime bronze in the commonwealth games for a 10km one. Less distance, she ran. As for authorities, this way there isn’t much expenditure in training players. Let the tribal practice. Whatever- running, swimming, shooting…

Chain Snatching incidents in Ahmedabad city

Chain Snatching incidents in any community are serious and regular ones in a big city as bad. Ahmedabad reports this in its daily churan* type newspapers, and in its other better city dailies here and there and and so on. The chain snatching incidents go unnoticed in the middle of multiple issues of multitudal concerns, but still making simple or singular or feeble impacts. People read the news, gather that it is serious, acknowledge it it is bad and move on. Some do their bit.

And more it hurts, when in neighborhood an auntie well known is hurt because the culprits slashed her neck as they snatched away her gold chain running away with it, doubling* on a hundred CC bike.

This is not good.

Because, a small civilization or a big city, first, she is hurt; second, she will fear, to wear, or never from now on, to wear a flashing expensive necklace at the evenings and enjoy the care-free nice warm breezy evening walks in her community next time.

Police say they will and are trying their best. But they themselves read too much of the newspaper too. We the neighbors make a visit. If we do not, then we send some condolences. Even if that not too, we convey our pity or compassion and hope for better. We also hope that the culprits are caught soon.  We also try to gather, who is responsible for all this?

Who?

 

The Employment Directorate?

****

Churan (n.) An Ayurvedic preparation, in dry powder form, provides post lunch/dinner taste, and is helpful with restoring bowel normalcy

Doubling(v.) Two riders on a bike

Ref-yu-chakker (v.) To run away

Journeys towards civilizing

From a Monkey to Slaves to Subjects to People, thou someone tell Bend who is the best talker and argumentative of thine all?

Phone not lost

Oh! where is it gone? It was just about here? I scratch my crotch; not because of the muggy weather sustaining outside but, for I am in the driving seat of car, have shut the engine down, and I am searching for my phone about everywhere inside. No trace of it. “Damn’t it was here just a few moments back!”

Drive a little up ahead. An auntie is busy with setting up and preparing at the evening enterprise stall next to the Sarabhai centre on the University Road. There are a few other larries opening too. On the backdrop is rare blue monsoon sky, evening sun trying hard. “Hi auntie, can I use your phone? Mine seems to be lost.”

“Oh what happened Beta?”

”Ok, I will be there in five minutes”

”Losing handset is okay, but main is that you lose contacts beta. Now beta, you must hurry up”

”Oh yes…”

Unsaid thanks and grateful I step up the gas.

Traffic isn’t supportive at all in the char rasta close to the Xaviers college. The jam didn’t last for longer but the mobilists and motorists had made a big scene out of it. Apart from honking and contributing seen and unseen dhuan, all Foren Audit standards will probably ask for is a few three four lanes on this road. Two AMTS buses, many cars, many more two-wheelers, cyclists, pedestrians, and so-and-so were all interlocked. Only the braver or mightier would get out faster.

“Suno, did you see anyone walking with a lost phone?”

“No why? Hey, aren’t you the same Sahib? Heh heh.”

An hour back I had robbed him of his illegal demand for Five Rupees for car parking charges. On the CG Road the stipulated and common charges is Rupees Two. The phone was probably lost here and this is where the person who picked my phone said we shall meet.

“Ok Gimme your phone”, a Chinese handset which looks scratchy and different. I take his help to turn knob and dial. The phone looks more hep than the branded ones I see around in branded shops.

“Hey you got enough balance?”

Nods with his eyes - “Yes, don’t worry”.

“I have to rush to Law Garden. Here, keep this Tenner. Enjoy.”

Next to Swati restaurant I speak to Swati restaurant ka Chowkidar, “Where is this Raj Kamal Apartment?”

“mmm?”

“next to Swati I am told.”

“No, it must be Neel Kamal. See the gate going inside? ...First one”

Inside the gate, no one is around, so I climb up to the first floor.

It is a tour and travels office. Two men in dirty sky blue shirts and black trousers are sitting easy and stretched using four to five wheely office chairs they have in vicinity. The office is well lit with surplus tube lights.

“You have my phone?”

“Which phone?”

“Can I make a call from your landline phone?”

“Sure Saab”

I fiddle and scratch the phone

“Dial zero sir”

“Oh ok…where do you say I come?”

I hand over the phone to one office guy.

“He says he is downstairs in his car. Do you need me?”

“No”

“Let me know if you need me.”

“No one was around. It took 10 minutes.”

“Can I use your phone?”

“Hey hun, I will be late, I am searching for my phone”

“Oh is it? The person is saying he is next to chai-ki-kitli.”

“is it so Saab? I will come along.”

At the Kitli, “Saab let me dial your number”... “He says he is at the apartment block nearby.

The scene afterwards can be painted with words. Me and the tour guy talk a momentary desolate walk to a block of high rise apartments. Six seven of the apartment blocks look dominating when evening dusk mixes with the night. In the entrance is the gate keeper’s cabin. Next to the cabin a well dressed middle aged man is sitting on a typical scratched broken plastic chair with complete authority.

“Prove it, it is your phone.”

“Yes, Many thanks”

And suddenly from nowhere appear, I can count, around ten fifteen people, to participate in the scene.

“Prove it, it is your phone.”

Same regular human talk followed and I did eventually got my phone back. “Okay he is a helper, pay him something you feel like. Honesty is tough to find these days.”

“Okay, I fill find some change.”

I find change at the chai–ki-kitli, and so, chai too. A man selling agarbatti who himself manufactures also sold me his sample for MRP 15/-, no address or contact on it. Says, chai-ki-kitli I smy contact. The helper guy, the guy who had actually found my phone is poor monetarily. He got half of tip he probably expected- MRP 51/-. I was told later I should have given at least 100/- - honesty is tough to find these days. I gave him lift to Paldi. Paldi is south of the city while I had to rush home north. He wasn’t insistent about the lift part but I had to drop him some decent place nearby where he gets some decent access.

Agarbatti: Incense sticks

Beta: Son, Child

Chai-ki-kitli: Tea Stall

Char-rasta: Cross roads

Chowkidar: Watchman

Dhuan: Smog

Larries: Hand Carts

MRP: Maximum Retail Price

Suno: Listen

What becomes of us is what we want to be

This world, the funny world,
I become a doctor so I see I can heal bodies in pain,
I become a lawyer so I know every man is the same,
I become a writer so I see all equal plain,
I become an artist so I can see logic even in vain,
I become a judge so I can see justice as an aim,
I become nothing so I see funny world.

Banjo and his parental Bend

A realization came in to Bend when he was washing his dog Banjo after his usual morning walk that lasted slightly about more than an hour.

Monsoons in Ahmedabad have stayed for long, like they do once every three or four years. This creates rain puddles and Banjo loves to jump on them. This makes him dirty and he needs cleaning before he enters the house. Fourteen months old, the Labrador is full of energy and has become swift and grand – and has agility which not many in the pados* can match. The street mongrels, the faltu* dogs, now get scared of Banjo from the stride itself which he develops before he says he will pounce on them. Not all of them are scared of Banjo, for he is nice to ones who are nice to him.

Banjo hates this forced cleaning but he doesn’t have an option. He can use his swiftness and grand strength to run away but chooses not to. He doesn’t wants to trouble Bend beyond a point. He knows he has nowhere to go.

Probably, similar references can be drawn for kids who grow up in a cozy well loved parental or family environment; and after they have grown up a certain age, in other words when they become adults, are left to their own devices and the future. There are no chains to tie them to a pole.

*
faltu: extra not needed
pados: neighborhood

Write Quickly

I wanted to write a blog but I cannot. We need to think as we type, and it seems ants have found a temporary colony in my laptop's keypad.

Naming pets

I have found, any civilization with a 'developing' tag to it, has largely two types of pet dogs. I will go into a little detail about these dogs in one large and compact agglomeration we know as India.

The first types of these are locally known as 'the paltu', and the other as 'the faltu'. Both these types are usually harmless unless invoked, poked or xxx. The paltu type lives off on various combination of home cooked meal, plus processed pedigree and get almos an equal treatment like a family member who lives inside the house. This type is generally well groomed, clean, like I said earlier, is well fed, usually solemn by face, and prefers solitude probably as he gets used to it. He is the home pet.

Whereas, the second type, the faltu type, also known as a stray, is under the casual collective care of a particular community. For his own ease of life he lives in groups and marks territories un-barbed and unseen. As a part of collective is fed on leftovers or biscuits, and keeps clean - more details are available from the neighborhood, usually from concerned or retired citizens who feed them. In other words, he is treated like a family member who lives outside the house.

I am in regular contact with many from both the categories, and in close relationship with one of the each type. And, from somewhere a divine moment, perhaps artful thought full of love, concern, affection and world-peace has had put into my head that these pets, who ever they are, where ever they come from, whatever size, color, cast or creed they can be named after musical instruments.

So, the Paltu type, the first type, who lives with me most of the time is known as Banjo. A communal cat he shooed off from the courtyard because she made him insecure, for he hated her after I had affectionately started calling her Harmonica. The Faltu type, who I interact before entering my office, and slamming the door close, I call him Gitar, keeping 'r' at the end as silent using accentual effect.

***

p.s. The author has used Masculine intonations for purposes of ease

Animals, Humans and Pets

The Red Pony by John Steinbeck

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Jody, Billy Buck, papa Carl, mama and uncle, and an another ailing uncle who stole away an ailing horse. The art of horse maintenance where promises are made and life goes on, the book shows a life and a people of those times, for there are details which cannot be escaped, and to some/one make fall in love with their pet again. I read the book in pauses because of my other work pressures, and many times I needed the company of my Banjo(a Labrador retriever) with me. The book and him, both felt better while I completed it slowly.

Micro Independence

Solid waste staff, contracted by the Municipal Karupration of the city kept on with their jobs. A Sunday as well, many continued with their work, many would have been attending the ceremony, and many resting with an extended sleep. Today is a day dedicated to all of them, and I agree the call from many fronts that today is Independence Day, i.e. one is officially free; even if symbolically.

In the morning, the dog insisted Jack take him out for a walk so he could take his regular crap, and probably enjoy the walk himself too. He had been insisting Jack for a walk for more than last couple of hours. Patience, one can say. So finally Jack got fed up and took him out for a walk but ensured he keeps to the leash because it is filth and puddle in the extended monsoons. Environs are livelier and greener around, a little muggy but full.

The leash is pulling Jack on the road, and on the left he sees a big hotel. The hotel is famous in the city for its eliteness, and its main entrance many steps up, like the steps you remember from the images of the great Acropolis. The large glass door has a few hands, say ten, one can say ten palms, white gloved palms waving on them, cleaning, fluffing, polishing, rubbing, just to get those spots and that shine out.

Heart Report – 9 months later

This is my Heart Report nine months approximately after it was repaired. Thank you well wishers, I am not in well, I am well. Also, due thanks is due to the life saver cardiologist Dr. Raval who has let me go and has moved on with his booming practice. Post surgical advice is from another well known specialist who has his own hospital. Anyways, these post surgery advices is not much of a routine, so no need to divulge in detail. I will get myself checked before I get on with my next self congratulatory great road trip. Angioplasty so far has been a great technology of benefit to me, and in comparison in my case more effective than yoga. I have become so much used to these two helping foreign bodies known as stents inside my arteries that we have become subjugated to each other. In a year or two, I will give them formal citizenship to my body.

Quitting on smoking and nullifying my exposure to the city fumes by staying and traveling in a micro climate otherwise known as air-conditioning rather than adaptation has helped. I would like to share my doctor’s advice that smoking not for a longer duration provides the body-system with more oxygen supply; which I can certainly feel.

Writing this also reminds to return a book given to me by an uncle who himself was been Angio-Plasted like me sometime before me. This is also an opportunity to mention the book itself for one’s own references - ISBN: 8187111631 written by Pravin P. Shah is titled –“HOW TO PREVENT OR REVERSE HEART DISEASE - : A Complete Step-by-step Guide: Including Tasty Food Recipes for a Healthy Heart”. This is a lifestyle book more or less written in India ishtyle. I would like to discuss the book sometime soon in days to come, for it is a good book. Anyways, one review is here.

Things are smoother now dear well-wishers and water experts.

Salut