<?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" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CEEERnY6fyp7ImA9WhVSGU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870</id><updated>2012-03-16T14:30:07.817-04:00</updated><category term="Ajax costco gas station" /><category term="kathakali" /><category term="paddy fields" /><category term="behaviour" /><category term="namast eh" /><category term="lottery" /><category term="thanksgiving" /><category term="Indian wedding" /><category term="winter" /><category term="public speaking" /><category term="freedom" /><category term="train" /><category term="Smile Pinki" /><category term="south indian food" /><category term="warmth" /><category term="biryani" /><category term="SARS" /><category term="home" /><category term="silver streak" /><category term="healthy handshake" /><category term="travel" /><category term="smile" /><category term="carroms" /><category term="playa pascara" /><category term="Manhattan" /><category term="charity" /><category term="rules of driving" /><category term="family" /><category term="dushasana" /><category term="Toastmaster" /><category term="tornado alley" /><category term="malayalees" /><category term="dolphin" /><category term="Costco" /><category term="humor" /><category term="chatti" /><category term="duryodhana" /><category term="turkey" /><category term="breaking the ice" /><category term="New York" /><category term="GC7" /><category term="ethnic clothing" /><category term="hamilton" /><category term="mundu" /><category term="krishna" /><category term="vacation" /><category term="driving in toronto" /><category term="shake hands" /><category term="Toastmasters" /><category term="cuba" /><category term="vishu kainettam" /><category term="holguin" /><category term="electronics" /><category term="freezing" /><category term="friendship" /><category term="namaste" /><category term="vishu" /><category term="saree" /><category term="kerala" /><category term="cigar" /><category term="Jai Ho" /><category term="monsoons" /><category term="guardalavaca" /><category term="dosa" /><category term="hugging saint" /><category term="coffee" /><category term="do not call" /><category term="JFK" /><category term="sadya" /><category term="do not email" /><category term="google" /><title>As I was saying...</title><subtitle type="html">About life, human weaknesses and strengths in general.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>49</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/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying" /><feedburner:info uri="madmusings-asiwassaying" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE8CQngyfCp7ImA9WhRQGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-5744043344184117630</id><published>2011-12-11T10:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-13T22:21:03.694-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-13T22:21:03.694-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Ajax costco gas station" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="freezing" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="coffee" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="winter" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="warmth" /><title>Warming up to the idea</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/5744043344184117630/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=5744043344184117630" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/5744043344184117630?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/5744043344184117630?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/AQowgV3y8PI/warming-up-to-idea.html" title="Warming up to the idea" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
Why is it difficult to do a good deed? The Costco gas station in Ajax opens at 6.30 a.m. every day. Between errands, I pulled up at the gas station at 8.30 in the morning. When I stepped out the gusty wind pierced through the four layers of clothing. The wind chill was -6°C. I turned around to gauge its direction and present my back to it. As I was filling up one of the four minders (helpers) 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/n5kPF0fStheagh2SNSx1e_Vy1Uo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/n5kPF0fStheagh2SNSx1e_Vy1Uo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/AQowgV3y8PI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/12/warming-up-to-idea.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEYDSXY-cCp7ImA9WhRSF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-746203032823860109</id><published>2011-11-17T20:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-19T23:09:38.858-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-19T23:09:38.858-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kerala" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="monsoons" /><title>Music of the rain</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/746203032823860109/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=746203032823860109" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/746203032823860109?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/746203032823860109?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/CH-Bbs_3V0k/music-of-rain.html" title="Music of the rain" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
I opened my eyes and saw nothing. First the sounds of rain reached me, then the spray from a water drop. Lightning made the room bright for a blink of an eye. I reached down and pulled the blanket over my head ready for the sound. The deafening thunder made me still shudder.

It began to get hot and I pulled down the blanket. I brought my right hand in front of my face. I touched it with the 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rxdHge-GDIgx7bbfsdWODPHev1o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rxdHge-GDIgx7bbfsdWODPHev1o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/CH-Bbs_3V0k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/11/music-of-rain.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkADRng7cSp7ImA9WhRSFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-4927890980816992987</id><published>2011-11-13T16:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-18T10:39:37.609-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-18T10:39:37.609-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="electronics" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Costco" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humor" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="freedom" /><title>Freedom at Ten</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/4927890980816992987/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=4927890980816992987" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/4927890980816992987?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/4927890980816992987?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/qXiq9Qb7EAU/freedom-at-ten.html" title="Freedom at Ten" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><georss:featurename>Ajax, ON, Canada</georss:featurename><georss:point>43.8508553 -79.0203732</georss:point><georss:box>43.6676433 -79.33623019999999 44.0340673 -78.7045162</georss:box><content type="html">

Women think way far ahead. They plan, plot, and gently let their men loose in a maze that resembles their mind! And those pour souls believe they are getting away with IT. IT could be anything from an iPad to an unsupervised visit to Costco or Best Buy. These two incidents will elaborate my point.

Incident One. The wave of Apple’s first iPad mania washed all over me. I cooled my overheated 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GGleFKkDdIwoCbrNcLtHwVHMG3Y/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GGleFKkDdIwoCbrNcLtHwVHMG3Y/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/qXiq9Qb7EAU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/11/freedom-at-ten.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MMSH47eSp7ImA9WhRSF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-2339432541494677741</id><published>2011-11-12T07:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-19T08:31:29.001-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-19T08:31:29.001-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="thanksgiving" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hamilton" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="turkey" /><title>Thanksgiving</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/2339432541494677741/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=2339432541494677741" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/2339432541494677741?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/2339432541494677741?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/X8B4FI55yjA/thanksgiving.html" title="Thanksgiving" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><georss:featurename>Hamilton, ON, Canada</georss:featurename><georss:point>43.243603 -79.889075</georss:point><georss:box>43.0585365 -80.204932 43.4286695 -79.57321800000001</georss:box><content type="html">

I first heard about Thanksgiving eight years back. Of course, I was familiar with the literal word, but never gave it much thought. What I knew of Thanksgiving till then was in bits of conversation and stories. And, till recently I presumed Thanksgiving was a religious festival!

The first thanksgiving I truly enjoyed was in the year 2000. The senior most member in my friends' circle took it 
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"iGrieve. iMourn." - postings from facebook. 
Should I say Steve Jobs made 'i' even more personal? As an iGeneration 
mourns the passing of a legend, will Apple change, beginning with the 
logo?

iRead somewhere this story about the Apple logo. When it came time
 to project the vision of what Apple stood for, the creative team came 
up empty. Steve Jobs who was sitting at the session held up the
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eaBh5BKcMv3TmbwdCicapf_uvoA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eaBh5BKcMv3TmbwdCicapf_uvoA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/PV0WXII7gTQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/10/has-apple-lost-its-bite.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQDQH87eyp7ImA9WhdQFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-3933197717595752788</id><published>2011-08-14T18:22:00.012-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T20:26:11.103-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-15T20:26:11.103-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="New York" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Manhattan" /><title>The Butterfly Effect</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/3933197717595752788/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=3933197717595752788" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/3933197717595752788?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/3933197717595752788?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/7X-pbmOpXB4/crossing.html" title="The Butterfly Effect" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">At the bottom of the bridge over Welland Canal, the overhead sign flashed once. “30 minutes to 1 hour wait at the Peace Bridge Crossing.” On cue, butterflies in Arun’s stomach emerged from their cocoons.
The first time, Arun and his family crossed the border to the US of A with their friend and family. They were pulled over and Arun was subjected to questioning by tough looking security agents. 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eDssWJzXvZyKqdWUAHvXmVoPJYY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/eDssWJzXvZyKqdWUAHvXmVoPJYY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/7X-pbmOpXB4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/08/crossing.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQHRng_fyp7ImA9WhZWEU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-7684527214001468851</id><published>2011-05-11T12:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T12:45:37.647-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-11T12:45:37.647-04:00</app:edited><title>The cycle of life</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/7684527214001468851/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=7684527214001468851" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/7684527214001468851?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/7684527214001468851?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/m7uXiP_O-eI/cycle-of-life.html" title="The cycle of life" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">On political correctness:- A front line newspaper in Canada posted the photo of a languid-eyed pup  on the front page. The news item went on to say that the group of living beings referred to as animals should henceforth be called companion animals. Pets, wildlife, vermin and animals were terms of abuse; the politically correct form to address them was free living, differentiated beings, and 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PtU2EPnQlWZpDC41cJ7lZN5F6eQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PtU2EPnQlWZpDC41cJ7lZN5F6eQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PtU2EPnQlWZpDC41cJ7lZN5F6eQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PtU2EPnQlWZpDC41cJ7lZN5F6eQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/m7uXiP_O-eI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/05/cycle-of-life.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQARXo5cCp7ImA9WhZXGUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-3869920801707024288</id><published>2011-04-29T20:38:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T19:39:04.428-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-09T19:39:04.428-04:00</app:edited><title>Don't take it personally</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/3869920801707024288/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=3869920801707024288" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/3869920801707024288?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/3869920801707024288?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/hdk7VIpxLek/dont-take-it-personally.html" title="Don't take it personally" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">
I was brought up with the habit of sharing. In school there were the textbooks, the bench we sat on, the pencils and erasers, teasing the teachers. At home I had to share the last piece of chicken.

As kids we rarely received gifts. On the ethnic new year's day the oldest member of the family presented shiny coins. One Indian rupee. In the present day, it converted to 1/40th of the Canadian 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8tcKEMtpn29J6rf0u_AN81JCM4A/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8tcKEMtpn29J6rf0u_AN81JCM4A/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8tcKEMtpn29J6rf0u_AN81JCM4A/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/8tcKEMtpn29J6rf0u_AN81JCM4A/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/hdk7VIpxLek" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/04/dont-take-it-personally.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkINQ3syfip7ImA9WhZXEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-2917637940346107119</id><published>2011-04-28T18:41:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-28T18:43:12.596-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-28T18:43:12.596-04:00</app:edited><title>Peep. Mum's the word!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/2917637940346107119/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=2917637940346107119" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/2917637940346107119?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/2917637940346107119?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/9lnz5__f16Y/peep-mums-word.html" title="Peep. Mum's the word!" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">The highlight of Chitra's New York trip was lunch. Hunger pangs dug in when her car entered Holland Tunnel on the way to a rain-soaked Big Apple. Though it was Saturday afternoon, guide and cousin Shalini found a parking spot on Thomson St. She flipped out her iPhone and scanned for the nearest Thai restaurant.

Chitra led the four women around the block. A keen observer at the corner of Spring 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jBkAH-bUkrUskugcr0uSplKwpJY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jBkAH-bUkrUskugcr0uSplKwpJY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jBkAH-bUkrUskugcr0uSplKwpJY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jBkAH-bUkrUskugcr0uSplKwpJY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/9lnz5__f16Y" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/04/peep-mums-word.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkEHRXo_eCp7ImA9WhZXEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-8695179905536932013</id><published>2011-04-26T20:37:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-28T18:43:54.440-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-28T18:43:54.440-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Jai Ho" /><title>Making India proud</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/8695179905536932013/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=8695179905536932013" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/8695179905536932013?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/8695179905536932013?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/W7wddOtt6Ug/making-india-proud.html" title="Making India proud" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-arrMleQDNcY/TbdjLkBLlHI/AAAAAAAAHG4/vdb1pgEAJSM/s72-c/100_1694.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">1 April 2011. Today everyone was an Indian. The stylish couple who wanted nothing to do with India or Indians waved the Indian flag high. The university intern who reeked of beer running up and down Gerrard Street waving the flag with one hand and directing traffic with the other remained Indian. The two young girls shouting, dancing, shrieking, and waving flags had recently migrated to Toronto; 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uskbKRx3TEJ30eJkp2mdAMu6fi0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uskbKRx3TEJ30eJkp2mdAMu6fi0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/W7wddOtt6Ug" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/04/making-india-proud.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUANQ305fSp7ImA9WhZXEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-8432476360932137344</id><published>2011-04-25T11:33:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-29T07:49:52.325-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-29T07:49:52.325-04:00</app:edited><title>Dancing on the streets</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/8432476360932137344/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=8432476360932137344" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/8432476360932137344?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/8432476360932137344?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/cx_wJnjeymo/celestial-dances-dancing-on-streets.html" title="Dancing on the streets" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3acGxr4lVs4/TbWTUv9SmWI/AAAAAAAAG7M/xMVcltF5Dlg/s72-c/100_1691.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Celestial Dances III - Patriotism grows on people. Every time India played Pakistan, more than any other nation, national spirit oozed from every other pore than sweat. As the DJ on an FM station in Toronto said, "the excitement when the Leafs play; when India plays, multiply that by a hundred times". I added, a billion times.


I followed cricket with passion when I moved away from India. After 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dFGpg231pp2_n96AVXoqHgyTANk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dFGpg231pp2_n96AVXoqHgyTANk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/cx_wJnjeymo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/04/celestial-dances-dancing-on-streets.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8BSX4zfip7ImA9WhZXEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-6683867659202329930</id><published>2011-04-22T11:43:00.021-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-29T07:50:58.086-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-29T07:50:58.086-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tornado alley" /><title>Chasing Tornadoes</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/6683867659202329930/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=6683867659202329930" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/6683867659202329930?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/6683867659202329930?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/6NKCFzjV3t8/celestial-dances-tornados.html" title="Chasing Tornadoes" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Celestial Dances II - Chasing tornadoes figured at the top of Arun’s bucket list. Ever since the movie Twister, which he saw on many-sized screens, Arun was working his way to visiting tornado alley in the USA.

Arun’s still a long way from chasing tornadoes. If there was money to be saved [storm chasing packages for seven nights cost US$2,600], Chitra would even drive Arun to the plains of Texas
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ObUJwGx79CBjMBPzPkhrx414Uc4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ObUJwGx79CBjMBPzPkhrx414Uc4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/6NKCFzjV3t8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/04/celestial-dances-tornados.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8NSXgycSp7ImA9WhZXEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-2981570255410446429</id><published>2011-04-16T13:05:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-29T07:51:38.699-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-29T07:51:38.699-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="duryodhana" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="krishna" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dushasana" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kathakali" /><title>Kathakali</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/2981570255410446429/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=2981570255410446429" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/2981570255410446429?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/2981570255410446429?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/IqfnuBRn2bg/celestial-dances.html" title="Kathakali" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">Celestial Dances I - For Arun, the weekend started with Kathakali, followed by nature's dance in tornado alley, and dancing on the streets in Little India celebrating India's cricket win. All in one weekend.

Kathakali. Arun's first memory of this story-play from Kerala was when he was five years old. It was raining heavily that night, and the day, night and day before. It was also the night 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/R77OVEZqvf0KJoG4tuIXjQw1J9I/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/R77OVEZqvf0KJoG4tuIXjQw1J9I/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/R77OVEZqvf0KJoG4tuIXjQw1J9I/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/R77OVEZqvf0KJoG4tuIXjQw1J9I/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/IqfnuBRn2bg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/04/celestial-dances.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEGQn4yfyp7ImA9WhZRFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-4443440128622616943</id><published>2011-04-10T20:00:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T21:00:23.097-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-10T21:00:23.097-04:00</app:edited><title>Life is like a box of chocolates</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/4443440128622616943/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=4443440128622616943" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/4443440128622616943?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/4443440128622616943?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/DuBi5b9P7kc/life-is-like-box-of-chocolates.html" title="Life is like a box of chocolates" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">Certain people and incidents give you a fresh outlook on life. You meet them every day. You come across such situations once in a while; simple events that are life changing or at least that make you think.

I was in India recently. One morning at my father’s house I was woken up by someone talking in broken English. The voice was saying, “I go Canada. You coming?” Curious, I opened the door and 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rg6U_LUdjdaBeG3Bux9eO8fFc7U/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rg6U_LUdjdaBeG3Bux9eO8fFc7U/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rg6U_LUdjdaBeG3Bux9eO8fFc7U/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rg6U_LUdjdaBeG3Bux9eO8fFc7U/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/DuBi5b9P7kc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2011/04/life-is-like-box-of-chocolates.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUMNQnYycCp7ImA9WhZRFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-7779411702567813337</id><published>2010-03-11T17:39:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T20:58:13.898-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-10T20:58:13.898-04:00</app:edited><title>What's in a name?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/7779411702567813337/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=7779411702567813337" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/7779411702567813337?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/7779411702567813337?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/WwD0m8r2utw/whats-in-name.html" title="What's in a name?" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">Two weeks ago I was peacefully watching TV when the phone rang. It was a 1-800 number. Usually I do not pick marketing calls. I do not pick any calls! That day I was indulgent. I took the call.

"Hello", I said in a deep, booming voice trying to scare the other person away.

A female voice spoke back to me in a high pitch, "Hello, may I speak with...."

There was a long pause after that. I 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PSbkLt47J-k2KOi-nsifEEcYfdM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PSbkLt47J-k2KOi-nsifEEcYfdM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PSbkLt47J-k2KOi-nsifEEcYfdM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/PSbkLt47J-k2KOi-nsifEEcYfdM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/WwD0m8r2utw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2010/03/whats-in-name.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0QCQH47cCp7ImA9WhRSFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-6698168881244182451</id><published>2009-11-18T18:19:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-16T19:56:01.008-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-16T19:56:01.008-05:00</app:edited><title>Creative imagination</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/6698168881244182451/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=6698168881244182451" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/6698168881244182451?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/6698168881244182451?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/YRpqfIp7tTI/creative-imagination.html" title="Creative imagination" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
I read this story and it stayed in my mind. 

A young teacher was conducting a drawing class for six year olds. At the far end of the class a girl in pig tails sat with her arms around the paper totally engrossed. The teacher asked her what she was drawing. 

The child replied, God. 

How do you know what God looks like? 

As soon as I finish you will know, the child replied.

What's in an age? 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uiK8XYwG2ly8wAvhRuViUOsJvCI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uiK8XYwG2ly8wAvhRuViUOsJvCI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uiK8XYwG2ly8wAvhRuViUOsJvCI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uiK8XYwG2ly8wAvhRuViUOsJvCI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/YRpqfIp7tTI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2009/11/creative-imagination.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEMQXc8eyp7ImA9WhZRFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-2150629306488291159</id><published>2009-11-03T19:04:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T21:01:20.973-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-10T21:01:20.973-04:00</app:edited><title>Tech-NO-logic</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/2150629306488291159/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=2150629306488291159" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/2150629306488291159?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/2150629306488291159?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/N3DRvtmw3zM/tech-no-logic.html" title="Tech-NO-logic" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><content type="html">A dear friend of mine received a new Blackberry. Till then she had a simple flip phone to receive and make calls. When the phone rang, she’d flip it open and start talking. If she had to make a call all she had to do was punch the numbers on the oversized keypad, press the green button and talk.


Then she got this shiny new Blackberry as anniversary gift. She took it to office the same day along
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l0b5zvYqml5DCb_i4ze4jf0G6q4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l0b5zvYqml5DCb_i4ze4jf0G6q4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l0b5zvYqml5DCb_i4ze4jf0G6q4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/l0b5zvYqml5DCb_i4ze4jf0G6q4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/N3DRvtmw3zM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2009/11/tech-no-logic.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAFQHc7eSp7ImA9WhZRFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-4375882260546558915</id><published>2009-09-20T08:26:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T21:01:51.901-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-10T21:01:51.901-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="GC7" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="biryani" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="south indian food" /><title>Gastronomic weekend</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/4375882260546558915/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=4375882260546558915" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/4375882260546558915?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/4375882260546558915?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/M_TwNks4658/gastronomic-weekend.html" title="Gastronomic weekend" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Chitra thrives on excellent cuisine. In her quest to taste the best ethnic foods, she has dragged me across time zones, even countries.

As the president of GC7 (Gastronomic Club of Seven), Chitra gets invitations from all over North America. GC7 is made up of seven members spread out in North America who regularly correspond by modern communications. Aspiring chefs clamor for their attention to 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GZLR5YvFo58hg_KiE-txxqBlBB8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GZLR5YvFo58hg_KiE-txxqBlBB8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GZLR5YvFo58hg_KiE-txxqBlBB8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GZLR5YvFo58hg_KiE-txxqBlBB8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/M_TwNks4658" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2008/10/gastronomic-weekend.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAHSX0zeSp7ImA9WhZRFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-5406502408815778917</id><published>2009-07-17T22:13:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T21:02:18.381-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-10T21:02:18.381-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Toastmasters" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><title>Breaking the iceberg!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/5406502408815778917/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=5406502408815778917" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/5406502408815778917?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/5406502408815778917?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/a1r9hLFD5KU/breaking-iceberg.html" title="Breaking the iceberg!" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">I broke the ice in my first speech. Many of us do not see or connect with the iceberg beneath. I am talking about our inner feelings, our subconscious, who we are, and how we become the people we become. These are thoughts that continue to haunt us for most of our lives. Some of us ignore those thoughts and live a seemingly normal life. Others struggle to find answers; they adopt noble ideas, 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cMMcwGanRe8zTXO48iUlAGpc1Dc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cMMcwGanRe8zTXO48iUlAGpc1Dc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cMMcwGanRe8zTXO48iUlAGpc1Dc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cMMcwGanRe8zTXO48iUlAGpc1Dc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/a1r9hLFD5KU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2009/07/breaking-iceberg.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUACSHg4fip7ImA9WhZRFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-5329781252323400219</id><published>2009-07-09T18:45:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T21:02:49.636-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-10T21:02:49.636-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Smile Pinki" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="behaviour" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="smile" /><title>Keep that smile!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/5329781252323400219/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=5329781252323400219" title="11 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/5329781252323400219?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/5329781252323400219?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/G15OeKY5H1k/keep-that-smile_09.html" title="Keep that smile!" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>11</thr:total><content type="html">Keep that smile!

First thing every morning, I look at myself in the mirror and smile. Then I wash my face, brush my teeth, look at the mirror, and smile again. I can feel the smile spread across my face lighting up my eyes. That warms my heart and prepares me for the day ahead. Whatever happens today I will keep my smile.


Is there anything else that can cheer me up instantly? My wife, or 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2drdv_8RS2NvI7PfmjbyCv7NrI0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2drdv_8RS2NvI7PfmjbyCv7NrI0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2drdv_8RS2NvI7PfmjbyCv7NrI0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2drdv_8RS2NvI7PfmjbyCv7NrI0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/G15OeKY5H1k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2009/03/keep-that-smile_09.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8ESXg4eSp7ImA9WhZRFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-3543795129821382568</id><published>2009-05-06T11:40:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T21:03:28.631-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-10T21:03:28.631-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="charity" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="lottery" /><title>Lotteries - A worthy cause!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/3543795129821382568/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=3543795129821382568" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/3543795129821382568?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/3543795129821382568?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/CkgVlrkcQzI/lotteries-worthy-cause.html" title="Lotteries - A worthy cause!" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">A worthy cause 
I feel good today. Hopefully, my contribution of $100 towards the research of a deadly disease will save someone's life. That's the best part. On the other side, research into my lottery buying habits has begun. 
If an electronic tracker got hold of my life record and played it back, she/he can trace the origins of my lottery buying habit to the impressionable age of 16. College 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YNopUNs7WKXeETKvqwhYbtKmndg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YNopUNs7WKXeETKvqwhYbtKmndg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YNopUNs7WKXeETKvqwhYbtKmndg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YNopUNs7WKXeETKvqwhYbtKmndg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/CkgVlrkcQzI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2008/09/lotteries-worthy-cause.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8DRn49eip7ImA9WhZRFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-8730088432338158415</id><published>2009-04-07T13:19:00.023-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T21:04:37.062-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-10T21:04:37.062-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="shake hands" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="healthy handshake" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="namast eh" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="namaste" /><title>Healthy Greetings!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/8730088432338158415/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=8730088432338158415" title="10 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/8730088432338158415?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/8730088432338158415?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/ryYkZspwWSY/green-way-of-greeting-someone.html" title="Healthy Greetings!" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>10</thr:total><content type="html">How do you greet someone?

Today, I will talk about the most healthy and dignified way of greeting someone. But first let me go through some common forms of greeting.

The first one that comes to mind is shaking hands. I say this is the most unhealthy form of greeting. The other day I ran away from an approaching hand straight from a washroom. It is anyone's guess what an oncoming hand may 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1Pj0587_UPykV3Ek0xCCPqraBxE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1Pj0587_UPykV3Ek0xCCPqraBxE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1Pj0587_UPykV3Ek0xCCPqraBxE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1Pj0587_UPykV3Ek0xCCPqraBxE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/ryYkZspwWSY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2009/04/green-way-of-greeting-someone.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4ERXk-eyp7ImA9WhZRFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-3556820171030236413</id><published>2009-04-01T15:31:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T21:05:04.753-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-10T21:05:04.753-04:00</app:edited><title>Oh Man!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/3556820171030236413/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=3556820171030236413" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/3556820171030236413?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/3556820171030236413?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/2rjokr6TU7I/oh-man.html" title="Oh Man!" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">There is no woman in sight. If a man stands in the middle of a forest and says something, is he still wrong? [A quote I borrowed from a speaker in TED.com who in turn took it off a T-shirt which passed him on the street.]

The wife is always right. She reminds me every day without fail.

She may forget to take her pills. She might even forget the curry on the burner. But she will never forget 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fOZoIebSWYH3pFK8OA22Ac0HPhA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fOZoIebSWYH3pFK8OA22Ac0HPhA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/2rjokr6TU7I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2009/04/oh-man.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUMQ3c6eCp7ImA9WxVaEU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-8985184594357434175</id><published>2009-04-01T14:49:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T14:01:22.910-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-07T14:01:22.910-04:00</app:edited><title>TED.com</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/8985184594357434175/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=8985184594357434175" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/8985184594357434175?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/8985184594357434175?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/0h5vtEgeixg/tedcom.html" title="TED.com" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">           I am blown away  by this! Check out the home page.
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ksi-4GXMfx4Wz478iKx5LEgNUxs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ksi-4GXMfx4Wz478iKx5LEgNUxs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ksi-4GXMfx4Wz478iKx5LEgNUxs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ksi-4GXMfx4Wz478iKx5LEgNUxs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/0h5vtEgeixg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2009/04/tedcom.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU4GSXo9eCp7ImA9WhZRFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1314196577944034870.post-4749365441883628297</id><published>2009-03-29T21:27:00.028-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T21:05:28.460-04:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-10T21:05:28.460-04:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="vacation" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="train" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="paddy fields" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="home" /><title>Home is where the heart is</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/feeds/4749365441883628297/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1314196577944034870&amp;postID=4749365441883628297" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/4749365441883628297?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1314196577944034870/posts/default/4749365441883628297?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~3/gUj9Kzcabzo/going-home.html" title="Home is where the heart is" /><author><name>Madmusings</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JS5bVOBEFw0/SrRhGXlOP5I/AAAAAAAAEVc/qUWognQ2F0g/S220/Madhav.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><content type="html">I like going home. If possible once every year.

My home is far away. Roughly 8,500 miles away, across the Atlantic, past the gulf countries, across the Arabian sea, in a tiny state called Kerala at the southernmost tip of India.

Going home is always a memorable event. It looks different now. Concrete buildings have buried the landscape. What I like to remember about home is a collection of 
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VSY1tszlWUb1IYgiRKEOkKBGBQs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/VSY1tszlWUb1IYgiRKEOkKBGBQs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Madmusings-AsIWasSaying/~4/gUj9Kzcabzo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://madhavkochunni.blogspot.com/2009/03/going-home.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

