<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIMRHw-eCp7ImA9WhVTGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603</id><updated>2012-03-05T17:59:45.250+05:30</updated><category term="My Favourite" /><category term="Happy Holi" /><category term="Love Quote" /><category term="Wishes" /><category term="Short Story" /><category term="Interesting Stroy" /><category term="Santa Story" /><category term="2011" /><category term="Love Story" /><category term="Crazy Story" /><category term="FUNNY STORY" /><category term="Short Funny Story" /><category term="Moral" /><category term="Eid Mubarak" /><category term="Merry Christmas 2011" /><category term="Great Quotes" /><category term="Cool Story" /><category term="Video of the Day" /><category term="Life Quotes" /><category term="Moral Story" /><category term="Blonde Story" /><category term="Diwali" /><category term="Happy Republic Day" /><category term="Inspiriting Quotes" /><category term="Jokes" /><category term="Facebook" /><title>INTERESTING STORIES</title><subtitle type="html">Interesting story, amazing story, funny story, moral story, short story, nice story, Interesting story, amazing story, funny story, moral story, short story, nice story, interesting short stories,interesting true stories, inspirational stories ,interesting facts short stories, love stories, jokes , Hindi story, Hindi moral story, instructive stories</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1447</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/InterestingStories" /><feedburner:info xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" uri="interestingstories" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UEQn06fSp7ImA9WhRaF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-1393059501123435882</id><published>2012-02-20T11:56:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-20T11:56:43.315+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-20T11:56:43.315+05:30</app:edited><title>Alligators In The Pool</title><summary>

A CEO throwing a party takes his executives on a tour of his opulent mansion. In the back of the property, the CEO has the largest swimming pool any of them has ever seen.The huge pool, however, is filled with hungry alligators.The CEO says to his executives "I think an executive should be measured by courage. Courage is what made me CEO. So this is my challenge to each of you: if anyone has </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/1393059501123435882/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/alligators-in-pool.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/1393059501123435882?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/1393059501123435882?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/alligators-in-pool.html" title="Alligators In The Pool" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cMSXYzfCp7ImA9WhRaF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-8322307562456336727</id><published>2012-02-20T11:54:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-20T11:54:48.884+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-20T11:54:48.884+05:30</app:edited><title>Cup Holder</title><summary>

Caller: "Hello, is this Tech Support?"Tech Rep: "Yes, it is. How may I help you?"Caller: "The cup holder on my PC is broken and I am within my warranty period. How do I go about getting that fixed?"Tech Rep: "I'm sorry, but did you say a cup holder?"Caller: "Yes, it's attached to the front of my computer."Tech Rep: "Please excuse me if I seem a bit stumped, it's because I am. Did you receive </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/8322307562456336727/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/cup-holder.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/8322307562456336727?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/8322307562456336727?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/cup-holder.html" title="Cup Holder" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8MRn8yeSp7ImA9WhRaF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-8694139834757096123</id><published>2012-02-20T11:51:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-20T11:51:27.191+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-20T11:51:27.191+05:30</app:edited><title>Good Soul</title><summary>

Last week, a man took his children to a restaurant.THE six-year-old son asked if he could say grace.As they bowed their heads he said, “God is good, God is great. Thank you for the food, and I would even thank you more if Mom gets us ice cream for dessert. And Liberty and justice for all! Amen!”Along with the laughter from the other customers nearby, he heard a woman remark, “That’s what’s </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/8694139834757096123/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/good-soul.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/8694139834757096123?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/8694139834757096123?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/good-soul.html" title="Good Soul" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEERnY_eCp7ImA9WhRaF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-3488850316650990196</id><published>2012-02-20T11:46:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-20T11:46:47.840+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-20T11:46:47.840+05:30</app:edited><title>A Story About Gandhi</title><summary>

As Gandhi stepped aboard a train one day, one of his shoes slipped off and landed on the track. He was unable to retrieve it as the train started rolling. To the amazement of his companions, Gandhi calmly took off his other shoe and threw it back along the track to land close to the first shoe.Asked by a fellow passenger why he did that, Gandhi replied,"The poor man who finds the shoe lying on </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/3488850316650990196/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/story-about-gandhi.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/3488850316650990196?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/3488850316650990196?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/story-about-gandhi.html" title="A Story About Gandhi" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIERHc4fSp7ImA9WhRaF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-2169057095604746246</id><published>2012-02-20T11:45:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-20T11:45:05.935+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-20T11:45:05.935+05:30</app:edited><title>The Gold Slippers</title><summary>

It was only four days before Christmas. The spirit of the season hadn't yet caught up with me, even though cars packed the parking lot of our local discount store.Inside the store, it was worse. Shopping carts and last minute shoppers jammed the aisles. Why did I come today? I wondered.My feet ached almost as much as my head. My list contained names of several people who claimed they wanted </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/2169057095604746246/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/gold-slippers.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/2169057095604746246?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/2169057095604746246?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/gold-slippers.html" title="The Gold Slippers" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8EQHY4eip7ImA9WhRbFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-5324839664181064893</id><published>2012-02-07T16:53:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-07T16:53:21.832+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-07T16:53:21.832+05:30</app:edited><title>Technically Correct</title><summary>

A helicopter was flying above Seattle when an electrical malfunction disabled all of the aircraft's electronic navigation and communications equipment. Due to the clouds and haze, the pilot could not determine the helicopter's position and course to steer to the airport.The pilot saw a tall building, flew toward it, circled, drew a handwritten sign and held it up in the helicopter window.The </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/5324839664181064893/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/technically-correct.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/5324839664181064893?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/5324839664181064893?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/technically-correct.html" title="Technically Correct" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0AGQHk5fSp7ImA9WhRbFU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-7270454094178758692</id><published>2012-02-06T18:05:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-06T18:05:21.725+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-06T18:05:21.725+05:30</app:edited><title>Who is smarter - Teacher or Student???</title><summary>

Who is smarter - Teacher or Student???One Night, 4 College students were playing till late night and didn't study for the test which Was scheduled for the next Day.In the morning they thought of a plan, they made themselves look as dirty and untidy as possible with grease and dirt.They then went up to the Dean and said that they had gone out to a wedding last night and on their return the tyre </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/7270454094178758692/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/who-is-smarter-teacher-or-student.html#comment-form" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/7270454094178758692?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/7270454094178758692?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/who-is-smarter-teacher-or-student.html" title="Who is smarter - Teacher or Student???" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A04CRXozeCp7ImA9WhRbFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-8834527322446926229</id><published>2012-02-06T17:36:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-06T17:36:04.480+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-06T17:36:04.480+05:30</app:edited><title>ATM</title><summary>

A new sign in the Bank Lobby reads:"Please note that this Bank is installing new Drive-through ATM machines enabling customers to withdraw cash without leaving their vehicles. Customers using this new facility are requested to use the procedures outlined below when accessing their accounts.After months of careful research, MALE and FEMALE procedures have been developed.Please follow the </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/8834527322446926229/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/atm.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/8834527322446926229?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/8834527322446926229?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/atm.html" title="ATM" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UARnwyfSp7ImA9WhRbFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-7865733304834601473</id><published>2012-02-06T17:24:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-06T17:24:07.295+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-06T17:24:07.295+05:30</app:edited><title>Love for Mother In Law</title><summary>

RE: Inspirational StoriesA long time ago, a girl named Li-Li got married and went to live with her husband and mother-in-law. In a very short time, Li-Li found that she couldn’t get along with her mother-in-law at all. Their personalities were very different, and Li-Li was angered by many of her mother-in-law’s habits. In addition, she criticized Li-Li constantly.Days passed days, and weeks </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/7865733304834601473/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/love-for-mother-in-law.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/7865733304834601473?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/7865733304834601473?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/love-for-mother-in-law.html" title="Love for Mother In Law" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cDQHk6fSp7ImA9WhRbFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-1924118331350950140</id><published>2012-02-06T17:21:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2012-02-06T17:21:11.715+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-06T17:21:11.715+05:30</app:edited><title>Report Card Sign</title><summary>

A father passing by his teenage daughter’s bedroom was astonished to see the bed was nicely made and everything was neat and tidy. Then he saw an envelope propped up prominently on the center of the pillow. It was addressed “Dad”. With the worst premonition, he opened the envelope and read the letter with trembling hands:-Dear Dad,It is with great regret and sorrow that I’m writing you, but I’m</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/1924118331350950140/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/report-card-sign.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/1924118331350950140?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/1924118331350950140?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/02/report-card-sign.html" title="Report Card Sign" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQCRXw5fip7ImA9WhRUGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-6547846578694345710</id><published>2012-01-29T11:39:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-29T11:39:24.226+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-29T11:39:24.226+05:30</app:edited><title>A Women's Work</title><summary>

One afternoon a man came home from work to find total mayhem in his house. His three children were outside, still in their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn all around the front yard.The door of his wife's car was open, as was the front door to the house. Proceeding into the entry, he found an even bigger mess.A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/6547846578694345710/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/womens-work.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/6547846578694345710?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/6547846578694345710?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/womens-work.html" title="A Women's Work" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEIHQnk5eyp7ImA9WhRUGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-562067662851273928</id><published>2012-01-29T11:25:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-29T11:25:33.723+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-29T11:25:33.723+05:30</app:edited><title>Who or What do we love more?</title><summary>

A man was polishing his new car; his 4 yr old daughter picked up a stone and scratched on the side of the car. In anger, the furious Man took his child’s hand &amp; hit it many times, not realizing he was using a wrench. At the hospital, the child lost all his fingers due to multiple fractures.When the child saw her father, with painful eyes he asked ‘Dad when will my fingers grow back?’ The man </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/562067662851273928/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/who-or-what-do-we-love-more.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/562067662851273928?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/562067662851273928?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/who-or-what-do-we-love-more.html" title="Who or What do we love more?" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMDQnk4eyp7ImA9WhRUGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-2494919923655434021</id><published>2012-01-29T11:24:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-29T11:24:33.733+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-29T11:24:33.733+05:30</app:edited><title>The Three Types of People</title><summary>

A teacher shows three toys to a student and asks the student to find out the differences. All the three toys are seemed to be identical in their shape, size and material. After keen observation, the student observes holes in the toys. 1st toy it has holes in the ears. 2nd toy has holes in ear and mouth. 3rd toy has only one hole in one ear.Than with the help of needle the student puts the </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/2494919923655434021/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/three-types-of-people.html#comment-form" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/2494919923655434021?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/2494919923655434021?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/three-types-of-people.html" title="The Three Types of People" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMHQHYzeip7ImA9WhRUGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-2871271708118439327</id><published>2012-01-29T11:23:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-29T11:23:51.882+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-29T11:23:51.882+05:30</app:edited><title>Father and the Donkey</title><summary>

Banwarilal is a simple soul who believes whatever he is told. The village boys are aware of this and exploit his simplicity for a few laughs. One day, Banwarilal is on his way to the market with his son to sell their donkey. He comes across some village boys out to have fun.Seeing the father and son duo walking with the donkey, they first suggest that the son ride on the donkey and save the </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/2871271708118439327/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/father-and-donkey.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/2871271708118439327?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/2871271708118439327?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/father-and-donkey.html" title="Father and the Donkey" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YHRH86fyp7ImA9WhRUGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-1444306621235197644</id><published>2012-01-29T11:02:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-29T11:02:15.117+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-29T11:02:15.117+05:30</app:edited><title>The seeker of truth</title><summary>

After years of searching, the seeker was told to go to a cave, in which he would find a well. 'Ask the well what is truth', he was advised, 'and the well will reveal it to you'. Having found the well, the seeker asked that most fundamental question. And from the depths came the answer, 'Go to the village crossroad: there you shall find what you are seeking'.Full of hope and anticipation the man</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/1444306621235197644/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/seeker-of-truth.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/1444306621235197644?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/1444306621235197644?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/seeker-of-truth.html" title="The seeker of truth" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cCQ3g8fCp7ImA9WhRUGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-3296446296302541791</id><published>2012-01-29T11:01:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-29T11:01:02.674+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-29T11:01:02.674+05:30</app:edited><title>The frogs and the tower</title><summary>

There once was a bunch of tiny frogs...... who arranged a running competition. The goal was to reach the top of a very high tower. A big crowd had gathered around the tower to see the race and cheer on the contestants...The race began...Honestly, no-one in crowd really believed that the tiny frogs would reach the top of the tower. You heard statements such as:"Oh, WAY too difficult!!""They will</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/3296446296302541791/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/frogs-and-tower.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/3296446296302541791?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/3296446296302541791?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/frogs-and-tower.html" title="The frogs and the tower" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYNRX46eCp7ImA9WhRUFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-6384473371537554511</id><published>2012-01-25T13:59:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-25T13:59:54.010+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-25T13:59:54.010+05:30</app:edited><title>Too Many Instructions..!! but true??</title><summary>

A wife was making a breakfast of fried eggs for her husband.  Suddenly, her husband came into the kitchen.  "Careful," he said, "Careful! Put in some more oil! Oh my GOD! You're cooking too many at once. Too many! Turn them!  Turn them now! You need more oil. Oh my God! Where are we going to get more oil?  The eggs are going to stick! Careful, careful! I said be CAREFUL!  You NEVER listen to me</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/6384473371537554511/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/too-many-instructions-but-true.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/6384473371537554511?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/6384473371537554511?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/too-many-instructions-but-true.html" title="Too Many Instructions..!! but true??" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcAR3k_cCp7ImA9WhRVEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-7189106725263905434</id><published>2012-01-09T19:04:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-09T19:04:06.748+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-09T19:04:06.748+05:30</app:edited><title>Polish Divorce</title><summary>

A Polish(native Poland) man moved to the USA and married an American girl.Although his English was far from perfect, they got along very well until one day he rushed into a lawyer’s office and asked him if he could arrange a divorce for him.The lawyer said that getting a divorce would depend on the circumstances, and asked him the following questions:L: Have you any grounds?P: Yes, an acre and </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/7189106725263905434/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/polish-divorce.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/7189106725263905434?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/7189106725263905434?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/polish-divorce.html" title="Polish Divorce" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0ABQXYzeyp7ImA9WhRVEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-8752045082937862205</id><published>2012-01-09T18:59:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-09T18:59:10.883+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-09T18:59:10.883+05:30</app:edited><title>The Bath Tub Test</title><summary>

During a visit to the mental hospital, the press reporter asked the Director ‘How do You determine whether or not a patient should be admitted to the Hospital.’ 

‘Well,’ said the Director, ‘we fill up a bathtub, then we give a Teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask him to empty the Bathtub.’ 

‘Oh, I understand,’ the reporter said. ‘A normal person would use the bucket because </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/8752045082937862205/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/bath-tub-test.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/8752045082937862205?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/8752045082937862205?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/bath-tub-test.html" title="The Bath Tub Test" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MDQnY_eCp7ImA9WhRVEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-5092717328672295127</id><published>2012-01-09T18:54:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-09T18:54:33.840+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-09T18:54:33.840+05:30</app:edited><title>Made in India</title><summary>

A Japanese tourist hailed a taxi in downtown Delhi and asked to be taken to the international  air port.On the way, a car zoomed by and the tourist responded, “Ohhh! TOYOTA!! Made in Japan!! Very fast!”Not too long afterward, another car flew by the taxi. “Ohh! NISSAN!! Made in Japan!! Very fast!”Yet another car zipped by, and the tourist said, “Ohh! Mitsubishi!! Made in Japan!! Very fast!”The </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/5092717328672295127/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/made-in-india.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/5092717328672295127?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/5092717328672295127?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/made-in-india.html" title="Made in India" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QNR3g_eyp7ImA9WhRVEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-8116249259373012528</id><published>2012-01-09T18:53:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-09T18:53:16.643+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-09T18:53:16.643+05:30</app:edited><title>Heaven and Hell</title><summary>

A holy man was having a conversation with the Lord one day and said, "Lord, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like."The Lord led the holy man to two doors. He opened one of the doors and the holy man looked in.In the middle of the room was a large round table. In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew which smelled delicious and made the holy man's mouth water.But the </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/8116249259373012528/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/heaven-and-hell.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/8116249259373012528?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/8116249259373012528?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/heaven-and-hell.html" title="Heaven and Hell" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk4FSX85fyp7ImA9WhRVEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-1574242236748029935</id><published>2012-01-09T18:45:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-09T18:45:18.127+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-09T18:45:18.127+05:30</app:edited><title>Last Respects</title><summary>

One day not too long ago the employees of a large company in St. Louis, Missouri returned from their lunch break and were greeted with a sign on the front door. The sign said: "Yesterday the person who has been hindering your growth in this company passed away. We invite you to join the funeral in the room that has been prepared in the gym."At first everyone was sad to hear that one of their </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/1574242236748029935/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/last-respects.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/1574242236748029935?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/1574242236748029935?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/last-respects.html" title="Last Respects" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkANRXgzeip7ImA9WhRVEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-8625110065652353420</id><published>2012-01-09T18:43:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-09T18:43:14.682+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-09T18:43:14.682+05:30</app:edited><title>Growing Good Corn</title><summary>

There once was a farmer who grew award-winning corn. Each year he entered his corn in the state fair where it won a blue ribbon.One year a newspaper reporter interviewed him and learned something interesting about how he grew it. The reporter discovered that the farmer shared his seed corn with his neighbors."How can you afford to share your best seed corn with your neighbors when they are </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/8625110065652353420/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/growing-good-corn.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/8625110065652353420?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/8625110065652353420?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/growing-good-corn.html" title="Growing Good Corn" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAHQHoyfCp7ImA9WhRWFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-2941759812859118295</id><published>2012-01-03T17:58:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-03T17:58:51.494+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-03T17:58:51.494+05:30</app:edited><title>Peace of mind</title><summary>

Once Buddha was walking from one town to another town with a few of his followers. This was in the initial days. While they were travelling, they happened to pass a lake. They stopped there and Buddha told one of his disciples, “I am thirsty. Do get me some water from that lake there.”The disciple walked up to the lake. When he reached it, he noticed that some people were washing clothes in the</summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/2941759812859118295/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/peace-of-mind.html#comment-form" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/2941759812859118295?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/2941759812859118295?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/peace-of-mind.html" title="Peace of mind" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUUDRXc_fSp7ImA9WhRWFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2602823824269735603.post-2456609866082131796</id><published>2012-01-03T17:51:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-01-03T17:51:14.945+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-03T17:51:14.945+05:30</app:edited><title>A Special Teacher</title><summary>

Years ago a John Hopkin's professor gave a group of graduate students this assignment: Go to the slums. Take 200 boys, between the ages of 12 and 16, and investigate their background and environment. Then predict their chances for the future. The students, after consulting social statistics, talking to the boys, and compiling much data, concluded that 90 percent of the boys would spend some </summary><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/feeds/2456609866082131796/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/special-teacher.html#comment-form" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/2456609866082131796?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2602823824269735603/posts/default/2456609866082131796?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://misc-story.blogspot.com/2012/01/special-teacher.html" title="A Special Teacher" /><author><name>KiranKumar Roy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12617346443500546642</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="25" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zg6-KaNKikI/TlXwh0LwkqI/AAAAAAAADVw/Kr_n7WIX37I/s220/22082011139%2Bcopy.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>

