<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450</id><updated>2024-10-02T13:22:24.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Metamorphoxix</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-2363062321254402692</id><published>2010-06-19T08:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T05:02:57.499-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprises at night</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;color:#3333ff;&quot;&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A few days back I was in a friend&#39;s house with my wife for dinner, chatting and laughing; At dinner time, my driver came and handed me his cell phone, a call for me..,a voice informed, one of my uncles just died...the line went dead, and the night continued its silence .... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/2363062321254402692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/2363062321254402692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/2363062321254402692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/2363062321254402692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2010/06/surprises-at-night.html' title='Surprises at night'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-1731330712628342082</id><published>2010-03-19T07:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-19T07:29:21.489-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to Where I started :</title><content type='html'>Its been 2 years since I left Sabroom, a little quiet town in the far southern borders of Tripura. A memorable place, the place I first started a government job. I worked there for a couple of years, left the place thinking I&#39;ll never go back..BUT, in a matter of 2 years I am called back here in the old south Sabroom, with new assignments. Its a surprise for me...I am back to where I started....the little good things I had done I am reaping in a small way and the not so good things I&#39;ve done, I am reaping the fruits too....One thing I&#39;ve learnt, .history sometimes repeat!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/1731330712628342082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/1731330712628342082' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/1731330712628342082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/1731330712628342082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2010/03/back-to-where-i-started.html' title='Back to Where I started :'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-5515788683491304716</id><published>2009-02-25T03:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T02:40:42.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A flower in my vase</title><content type='html'>It stood smiling fresh and young just the day before, alive and emiting joy for everyone. Now, its just another dry leaves waiting to be thrown in the trash bin. what a life, giving a smile and joy for so short yet as long as it lasts....you are no more but the memory lingers and still we feel the faint joy that you give so freely...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/5515788683491304716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/5515788683491304716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/5515788683491304716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/5515788683491304716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2009/02/flower-in-my-vase.html' title='A flower in my vase'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-4076868567303365154</id><published>2009-02-12T02:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T03:12:28.709-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lonesome Island</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;color: rgb(153, 255, 153);&quot;&gt;I sit here dreaming often of my yesteryears where the birds would sing and the flowers bloom in myriads of colors. I&#39;ve lived in that land all thorough my lonely days, enjoying the joyful air even in the wintry period of my season. My happiness is imprisoned there, in that lonely island where I I am stuck till today.  I yearn to go back to the land there where my soul lives. As I live in the midst of a rat race in full swing, I hear the gentle call of my soul deep within me. And I am transported time and again to that lonely island where my soul roams in bliss.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/4076868567303365154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/4076868567303365154' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/4076868567303365154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/4076868567303365154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2009/02/lonesome-island.html' title='Lonesome Island'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-8730097729633581851</id><published>2009-02-11T03:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T02:58:28.705-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The smiling Cop.</title><content type='html'>He was known to me a couple of years back, young and bold, jolly and fun loving. He comes often to me for a talk and to seek some office essentials. I am glad to know him. He&#39;s quiet and firm but always in a jolly mood. Honorable cop, brave and different. Maybe they saw it too, they gave him the Top Cop Medal in the last Republic Day at the Capital along with some few good men. He came again the day before, smiling as usual, asking for petty things for his staffs. I said Yes. He left in a joyful mood.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I came and sat in my office, a lonely staff came and informed that my dear friend had been shot and is fighting for his life at the hospital. A tragic news. All my hope and prayer for his recovery. Man like him make us free and safe to stand up and raise our heads in this bullet riddled land. I sure miss him and may God keep him safe.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/8730097729633581851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/8730097729633581851' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/8730097729633581851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/8730097729633581851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2009/02/smiling-cop.html' title='The smiling Cop.'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-2115250816024276926</id><published>2009-02-11T03:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T03:50:57.353-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A visit to the land where once the shepherd sings:</title><content type='html'>I am back to the spot where I once came before. The land where once the shepherd worked. She was there here. There, she worked tirelessly however weak or frail her tired body be. In that little hut she dwelled and that small church that You may mistaken for an abandoned house, she preached. She used to sing and fill the area with sweet praises, inspiring the people she knew. They all loved her. She was their shepherd. Gentle and loving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, she&#39;s in pain now, striken by unfamiliar malady. Nursing maid all around her. May the good Lord strengthen her limbs to walk again. I pray in this lonely place. I stand alone here, listening the songs she used to sing...it echoed deep within my heart. I am no shepherd, I am just a lost sheep in the wilderness!!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/2115250816024276926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/2115250816024276926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/2115250816024276926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/2115250816024276926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2009/02/visit-to-land-where-once-shepherd-sings.html' title='A visit to the land where once the shepherd sings:'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-4149201067193325262</id><published>2008-07-01T08:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T05:05:51.692-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A feast fit for  kings:</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color:#ffff00;&quot;&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sometimes I wonder what life serves to my table. Delicious porks to enjoy, fresh green boiled vegetables full of raw energy and countless goodness I never knew existed, but, the invisible loving butler often leaves bitter vegetables infront of me to balance my diet lest I be too stuffed with too many fats and I become unhealthy of sort-but, like a spoiled child, I complain and forget everyday I am served a meal fit for kings!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/4149201067193325262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/4149201067193325262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/4149201067193325262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/4149201067193325262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2008/07/feast-fit-for-kings.html' title='A feast fit for  kings:'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-6160142123406264492</id><published>2008-01-22T02:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T02:28:31.571-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Winning the Day:</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9UnGgGTTaWD3qYk_8HHutC_51aXDSlutAmXI-XVmP23Qiao1XuwK76WLzanbP3d7luVI0RnrnsDbc0_EOtxvyYK0lxVpwseYepeE746o-F-ZEdTKxj_KQ9-nbV8Wj4ogV0OtgPUhawk/s1600-h/188707-1.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158244892440258306&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 231px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px&quot; height=&quot;143&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9UnGgGTTaWD3qYk_8HHutC_51aXDSlutAmXI-XVmP23Qiao1XuwK76WLzanbP3d7luVI0RnrnsDbc0_EOtxvyYK0lxVpwseYepeE746o-F-ZEdTKxj_KQ9-nbV8Wj4ogV0OtgPUhawk/s320/188707-1.jpg&quot; width=&quot;208&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color:#cc0000;&quot;&gt;Its always fun to win the day, to have the last laugh, to be the last man standing: But, wouldn&#39;t that be a lonely day, to be the last man standing? I wonder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/6160142123406264492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/6160142123406264492' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/6160142123406264492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/6160142123406264492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2008/01/winning-day.html' title='Winning the Day:'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9UnGgGTTaWD3qYk_8HHutC_51aXDSlutAmXI-XVmP23Qiao1XuwK76WLzanbP3d7luVI0RnrnsDbc0_EOtxvyYK0lxVpwseYepeE746o-F-ZEdTKxj_KQ9-nbV8Wj4ogV0OtgPUhawk/s72-c/188707-1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-8691439664540736523</id><published>2008-01-17T02:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T22:08:31.991-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Into Falka</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAF8SSIT0HNtRkF01kSVXv8CAvYdW23VeEk2RA4AzsxvCEa9RGym1hq-REa_hScFHMmsbFe0Dos0cqkhoRjhHAV0B7xIfx5n0eYaRsTGWY8KA8qMaZ0QTicRLKs1mGRxUlzhofS58f4lw/s1600-h/265381-Air-Fuel-0.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158173991120135906&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 230px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 176px&quot; height=&quot;184&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAF8SSIT0HNtRkF01kSVXv8CAvYdW23VeEk2RA4AzsxvCEa9RGym1hq-REa_hScFHMmsbFe0Dos0cqkhoRjhHAV0B7xIfx5n0eYaRsTGWY8KA8qMaZ0QTicRLKs1mGRxUlzhofS58f4lw/s320/265381-Air-Fuel-0.jpg&quot; width=&quot;230&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; FALKA, pronounced as Folka, is a name of a village deep in the interior jungles of West Tripura. Located at the hill top bordering Amarpur, the area lies inaccessible by roads, and as time passes, it has become the safe refuge of the so called militants. Few dared to go there unprotected.The hill is clearly visible from a distance, alluring and mysterious. Ever since my eyes fell on the lonely hill, I felt the call of the wilderness deep in the heart...and as days passed, by a stroke of luck I somehow made arrangements with the Assam Rifles and got a ticket to the long awaited journey to Falka...it was an exhilirating journey, long and ardous, almost daunting task to climb to the summit ...ooh, what a walk, what an effort, what a great feeling behind all the risk and the dangers that could have befell us that day..we reached the summit after a long long walk, and took a long long rest. The events that took place still remains clear to me...the prisoner and his crying wife, the fear and awestruck villagers, the coolness of the man apprehended, the hard cold eyes of the jawans and the long journey back home, into the jungle, thru the long cold streams, the food we ate, and most of all the great escape of the young father who could not bear the thought of being behind bars for several years, maybe...The risk he took, the search and all the confusions, the angry jawans and their polished Kalashnikovs..ohh i watched with rapt attention...it was over a soon as it began, the prisoner has escaped and is not found.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;The sun was almost setting, it was so beautiful from the hill, I tasted a bit of the life I have lost long ago...it was a rare moment that nature offered to her loved ones, i felt lucky to be alive, happy to be a free dreamer in this troubled human world. Nature goes on, undisturbed and serene, it is US who have made all these choas, i wondered and the dream continued., As a human, we get to experience Falka sometimes, a dreamy land, far from human civilization, a place we dream about, where secrets lies with risks to take and dangers to meet, I thought. There are places like Falka which is worth the risk..after all, life without risk has no fun, no excitement, no meaning. Falka will remain a dream to me, a place of self realization, a trek to the heart of human nature amidst human darknesss...Maybe, someday, I&#39;ll climb that hill and see myself again clearly...until then, let me dream my dreams. Come to Falka with me.&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/8691439664540736523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/8691439664540736523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/8691439664540736523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/8691439664540736523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2008/01/into-falka.html' title='Into Falka'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAF8SSIT0HNtRkF01kSVXv8CAvYdW23VeEk2RA4AzsxvCEa9RGym1hq-REa_hScFHMmsbFe0Dos0cqkhoRjhHAV0B7xIfx5n0eYaRsTGWY8KA8qMaZ0QTicRLKs1mGRxUlzhofS58f4lw/s72-c/265381-Air-Fuel-0.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-5946590464463440173</id><published>2008-01-11T02:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-14T02:25:16.267-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brain Storming</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7IE3iawKIi1GepYnUdD4F9K8-3GAs2seHvauCictX25fI8KtdxoVJYusPfHPzCK9VZM5p4YCICUkSX37pV6mbQQF9PZF5g3C7KIV_C0bzPmVreWmFIPAQxQFuJ1W95ldKTBPqpyeyvEI/s1600-h/beaches-and-islands_beaches-and-islands_top_839_1.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154181552730531538&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand&quot; height=&quot;182&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7IE3iawKIi1GepYnUdD4F9K8-3GAs2seHvauCictX25fI8KtdxoVJYusPfHPzCK9VZM5p4YCICUkSX37pV6mbQQF9PZF5g3C7KIV_C0bzPmVreWmFIPAQxQFuJ1W95ldKTBPqpyeyvEI/s320/beaches-and-islands_beaches-and-islands_top_839_1.jpg&quot; width=&quot;300&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;With so many ideas at hand, endless concepts and new innovations, what new things to capture the imagination. But, there&#39;s is always a better way for everything, the next way of achieving goals. One thing has always occupied my mind since long. I dunno whether its worth sharing. You decide. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Its known that humans are smarter than animals. We do things the way it suits us best.We do things our way. We do things by what we understand, what we perceive, reacting to things according to our brain&#39;s mould. As each have different brain moulds, each have a different mode and ways of perceiving things. Our faculties are never the same. What seem easy for some is tough for others. You may find math boring, others may love it and vice versa. My point here is, each human brains function differently from other. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Next, you know we utilise a small fraction of our brain power. The point of utilisation differ from human to human. I believe there is no dull brain and sharp brain, intelligence is the same..we only differ in the spot of utilization of the brain. A dull student may be the most imaginative when it comes to sports, or, a brilliant student may be a hopeless case when it comes to music. The fact, I think, is the spot of brain we utilise differ, so, wrong judgement is made thinking that the whole brain is poor!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;What if we use the concept of software in getting our goals. What if we have some language by which we can each apply our individual brain mould to achieve our goals. If such things were there, a skillful musician can apply his skill to solve the most complex of mathematical problems! An artist would be able to apply his artistic mind to achieve the intellectual level of the best academicians. Great! Aint it. How wonderful it would be if such language or system come up for human use. Software are written in language. Interpretted by a compiler and used for endless purposes. In our case, we would be needing a compiler, intelligent enough to interpret the language of music and art or the thought of a poets.That compiler would be something which one can learn by heart and be easily stored for understanding. Alphabets would be replaced by diagrams, symbols, a stroke, something we can see and easily understood. Each person would deliver his answers according to his own individual style, expressing his ideas, emotions and store of knowledge from his memory by that universal language of perception and expresion and be compiled and interpreted flawlessly by compilers stored in our memory or for those who prefer, in a chip planted somewhere in the brain. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;The day may come when A, B, C is taught no more in kindergartens, only interpretation and deduction, expressions and logic, from basics to calculus. Scary thought, you may think. But, think again. All who are educated will have all the freedom to apply the mind for all branches of thoughts: from science to arts to astronomy and human psychology...unlimited power of expressions and mathematical precision in understanding thoughts and ideas. Great change would come, the second evolvement of man would have taken place by then....&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/5946590464463440173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/5946590464463440173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/5946590464463440173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/5946590464463440173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2008/01/brain-storming.html' title='Brain Storming'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7IE3iawKIi1GepYnUdD4F9K8-3GAs2seHvauCictX25fI8KtdxoVJYusPfHPzCK9VZM5p4YCICUkSX37pV6mbQQF9PZF5g3C7KIV_C0bzPmVreWmFIPAQxQFuJ1W95ldKTBPqpyeyvEI/s72-c/beaches-and-islands_beaches-and-islands_top_839_1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-5001317144409483986</id><published>2008-01-11T02:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T02:44:31.908-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Born2mizz</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyiWq0Dblp6mC6_bnx4gXcIk_mivrSJBpn9aicFWD3uFxryGeQxEOAYwBznbtJOfR1UNvNXRFtv7H7a3FEMUKTewupUqW9mJ70RlbfJtteKc-jaMiCAy4U0_hVcqP7m2H2mHhn6liW8w/s1600-h/IMG_8525.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154168010698647234&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand&quot; height=&quot;149&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyiWq0Dblp6mC6_bnx4gXcIk_mivrSJBpn9aicFWD3uFxryGeQxEOAYwBznbtJOfR1UNvNXRFtv7H7a3FEMUKTewupUqW9mJ70RlbfJtteKc-jaMiCAy4U0_hVcqP7m2H2mHhn6liW8w/s320/IMG_8525.jpg&quot; width=&quot;239&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color:#33ccff;&quot;&gt;I miss the cool winter morning as I sweat endlessly in the summer afternoons; As winter&#39;s mist arrives with cold hands, I remember the warm summer afternoon. I dreamt of growing up as a teenager and now I often dream of my childhood days...I remember, I dream, and the world never stops spinning..who am I? I am Born2Mizz! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/5001317144409483986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/5001317144409483986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/5001317144409483986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/5001317144409483986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2008/01/born2mizz.html' title='Born2mizz'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyiWq0Dblp6mC6_bnx4gXcIk_mivrSJBpn9aicFWD3uFxryGeQxEOAYwBznbtJOfR1UNvNXRFtv7H7a3FEMUKTewupUqW9mJ70RlbfJtteKc-jaMiCAy4U0_hVcqP7m2H2mHhn6liW8w/s72-c/IMG_8525.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-244406362519582291</id><published>2008-01-11T02:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T00:48:33.668-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One day in my office</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9FE2RRjRBPOB1sMNEI3WKH9b6wkmhnh1PaSp_mi8D38Q7jtTqCnTbLFsjKJIldZ_AlmmUbsGJXRQ_Fo-NdY4hhz6RWt8gRR9IosVRca-_i2m7V2s-9VtbJsD4wFjHSljPlN-mU9hqHA/s1600-h/TwoMenContemplating2.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158219981629941490&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 184px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px&quot; height=&quot;160&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9FE2RRjRBPOB1sMNEI3WKH9b6wkmhnh1PaSp_mi8D38Q7jtTqCnTbLFsjKJIldZ_AlmmUbsGJXRQ_Fo-NdY4hhz6RWt8gRR9IosVRca-_i2m7V2s-9VtbJsD4wFjHSljPlN-mU9hqHA/s320/TwoMenContemplating2.jpg&quot; width=&quot;254&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNYUOu615eVg0vyJ1hQloFnmfvrAgkQp3BOWcXZfO0tK9voOk3r1E1VY5h5dv4xFU-g6uE4OcM7SmoBe4MrqKkdfmCqHsersez7B0dMzFI2TJDEYY8stnbpk8zFhk3aMihS5N2Gtldn4/s1600-h/265381-Air-Fuel-0.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color:#33ffff;&quot;&gt;&quot;crazy humans&quot; i mumbled, as they moved out of my office room, furious, I suppose, in being unable to get what they asked for. I seem to hear them cursing me,&quot;crazy man&quot; ... what a waste of precious time for me, for them. Whose fault? My fault, their fault? Anyway, we both lost the day, and the day&#39;s gone-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/244406362519582291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/244406362519582291' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/244406362519582291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/244406362519582291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2008/01/one-day-in-my-office.html' title='One day in my office'/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9FE2RRjRBPOB1sMNEI3WKH9b6wkmhnh1PaSp_mi8D38Q7jtTqCnTbLFsjKJIldZ_AlmmUbsGJXRQ_Fo-NdY4hhz6RWt8gRR9IosVRca-_i2m7V2s-9VtbJsD4wFjHSljPlN-mU9hqHA/s72-c/TwoMenContemplating2.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6132126836443152450.post-4087386840109293808</id><published>2008-01-10T03:05:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-05-16T05:08:02.899-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Ox4BIBB49KRNOilFZdR7Ha5Bsun0jHRURD-X6_MkiPlCllBvucGn3Ygu4oycoqP_5vwrX3dZBy-cinC4ab2skBkeVFqncKGkbECjv0MVmzIMfPvSWwjFzE1abLHPRWDhsfqvN128tZ4/s1600-h/Grand_Canyon_23.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154163354954098354&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 157px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 141px&quot; height=&quot;180&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Ox4BIBB49KRNOilFZdR7Ha5Bsun0jHRURD-X6_MkiPlCllBvucGn3Ygu4oycoqP_5vwrX3dZBy-cinC4ab2skBkeVFqncKGkbECjv0MVmzIMfPvSWwjFzE1abLHPRWDhsfqvN128tZ4/s320/Grand_Canyon_23.jpg&quot; width=&quot;146&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color:#66ff99;&quot;&gt;Time-as it flies leaves an imprint on each moment-none escaping the marks. It polishes, brushes and moulds each matter, each according to its own fashion following some unknown system or rules unknown or unthought of....strange, wonderful! ahhh...what art? what madness? what wisdom!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/feeds/4087386840109293808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/6132126836443152450/4087386840109293808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/4087386840109293808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6132126836443152450/posts/default/4087386840109293808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tlingahc.blogspot.com/2008/01/time-as-it-flies-leaves-imprint-on-each.html' title=''/><author><name>tlinga</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06139747500154418378</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Ox4BIBB49KRNOilFZdR7Ha5Bsun0jHRURD-X6_MkiPlCllBvucGn3Ygu4oycoqP_5vwrX3dZBy-cinC4ab2skBkeVFqncKGkbECjv0MVmzIMfPvSWwjFzE1abLHPRWDhsfqvN128tZ4/s72-c/Grand_Canyon_23.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>