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	<title>Tomato Blog</title>
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	<description>by Joshi Mukard</description>
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		<title>Kadaknath Adventure</title>
		<link>https://joshimukard.wordpress.com/2022/06/24/kadaknath-adventure/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Joshi Mukard]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 24 Jun 2022 08:27:33 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Crazy Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Humor]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://joshimukard.com/?p=2501</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[If you are assuming Kadaknath to be a desolate place in the upper reaches of Uttarakhand, somewhere near Kedarnath, and this story could be about how I conquered it in my underpants as a tribute to that eccentric Dutch man Wim Hof who walked up Everest in just his shorts, you are in for a surprise. Kadaknath is not a place in Himalaya. It’s not even a place. Then, what is that? Kadaknath is a chicken. A breed of Indian fowl having black flesh with a Turquoise glow – Kali Masi or black chicken or of course, Kadaknath! This story is about how I happened to bring a live Kadaknath chicken to my apartment one day and the events that followed. I come to know about ‘Messi Farm’ via a friend. When the name is Messi, being a football fanatic, I cannot show disinterest. So, with the entire family complete with two dogs, I land at the gate of Messi farm totally expecting a Messi fan owner and walls adorning the football icon’s murals. The gate opens and a grand old man who wouldn’t ever have heard the name Messi waves us in. The walls feature splashes of cow dung. [...]]]></description>
		
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		<title>Aloo Dum Smoked Pork: Nothing Like This.</title>
		<link>https://joshimukard.wordpress.com/2021/02/24/aloo-dum-smoked-pork-nothing-like-this/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Joshi Mukard]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Wed, 24 Feb 2021 13:39:01 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Crazy Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[pork]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[smoked pork]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://joshimukard.com/?p=2492</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[The family is away on Covid vacation in our hometown and when I’m left to be on my own, I tend to impulsively wander off the safety line and venture into unknown territories. &#160;Earlier today, on a whim, I decide I would try my hand in cooking! Pork is my favourite meat so I would make a pork dish. I set off immediately. I buy pork meat and spices that I think would make nice ingredients and come back home in no time. My journeys into the culinary world has only been around Omlets, Papads, and Choru/Chawal (cooked rice), and never beyond, so in this adventure I call upon Mr. SJ, a friend and neighbor to be my companion. People who knows SJ will question my wisdom of enlisting his help because he recently once cooked Choru with Dosa rice. But my assumption is that, if you get the chilli and the salt right, cooking meat should be an easy task. Easy-peasy! So, we heat up the pan and throw in the ingredients one by one. Some water, pepper, salt, turmeric, tomato, green chillies, cumin, ground coriander, ginger and garlic, and a little bit of other spices we find at [...]]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2492</post-id>
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		<title>New Joshi Alert</title>
		<link>https://joshimukard.wordpress.com/2021/02/19/new-joshi-alert/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Joshi Mukard]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 19 Feb 2021 12:02:26 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Crazy Stories]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://joshimukard.com/?p=2488</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[One afternoon I hear a woman shouting outside my door, “Joshi, Joshi, stop playing and come here!”. I’m stunned. You can imagine my apprehension. My fevered mind races, ‘who are you woman and what game am I playing with you.’ I muster enough courage and slightly open the door to survey the situation, worriedly wondering if my face is going to run into the path of a flying sandal, deliberately and furiously curled at my direction. &#160; But no! a woman is leaning over the balcony railing and barking orders at someone else. I’m instantly relieved. The person at the receiving end of her verbal assault is someone at the play area, which is directly below my house. The culprit is out of my view, but one thing is clear. There’s a new Joshi in the society. In the next days, I come to know that the new Joshi is indeed a kid and a notorious one at that, and that he is one my immediate neighbours who moved in recently. Soon, the mother’s shrieking calls to her son becomes less startling to my ears and I get used to hearing my name thundering through the air several times a [...]]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2488</post-id>
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		<title>30-Yard Circle</title>
		<link>https://joshimukard.wordpress.com/2020/06/16/30-yard-circle/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Joshi Mukard]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 16 Jun 2020 17:08:29 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Crazy Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[cricket]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://joshimukard.com/?p=2472</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[This is part 2 of this post &#8211; A Game of Cricket *** I opened my eyes to see light. Bright light. I grabbed my phone in a hurry to check the time. It was 8:30 am. I was supposed to wake up at 5:30 am and go to the cricket ground. My mobile did not ring, because once again I had kept alarm for 5:30pm instead of am. And to top it, my mobile was in silent mode. My captain had called several times. When I reached the cricket ground, half of the match was already over. I told the captain about the failed alarm. He said, “No, problem”. It was evident that the poor performance in the first match had relegated my position from a key player to a substitute. Now the only thing on the ground of which I held the key, was of my scooter. We won this game. I cheered from the side. But as though aachara vedikattu (customary fireworks display to mark the end of a festival in Kerala), a ruckus broke out in the end. There were pushing and shoving. The tournament was canceled, and a few hours later, it was back on [...]]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2472</post-id>
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		<title>A Game of Cricket</title>
		<link>https://joshimukard.wordpress.com/2020/06/05/a-game-of-cricket/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Joshi Mukard]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 05 Jun 2020 11:11:11 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Crazy Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[cricket]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://joshimukard.com/?p=2457</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[So, one day, after a game of cricket (within society (apartment) players), it was decided that it was time to take the entertainment to the next level. An internal cricket tournament would be the next level. Everybody agreed. I was happy to be a part. I hardly ever played cricket and the last match I watched on TV was way back in 2011. Actually, I don’t think I can play cricket, but when there’s fun to be had, I’m always in. Three captains were immediately selected, and three teams were hastily put together. The tournament would commence from the next weekend and the days before that would be reserved for practice. The organizers told that all IPL rules would be followed, except LBW. And, there would be the 30-yard circle too. The 30-yard circle was a thing of wonder. That evening, I was handheld and dragged into a flat. “Joshi Sir, we tried calling you, you didn’t answer. I had to come, find you!” A group of men &#8211; all of them my new teammates &#8211; had already gathered there. “This is Joshi Sir. Key player”, I was introduced to the team. I haven’t ever spoken to most of them [...]]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2457</post-id>
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		<title>The Cursed Book of Kamasutra</title>
		<link>https://joshimukard.wordpress.com/2020/02/20/the-cursed-book-of-kamasutra/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Joshi Mukard]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 20 Feb 2020 09:23:51 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Crazy Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[book]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[kamasutra]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://joshimukard.com/?p=2444</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[Thirteen years back, I happened to receive a special edition Kamasutra book from a colleague. It is a chunky hardbound book with interesting drawings. That time I wasn’t married and the book gave me company on many lonely nights. Even after I got married, the book continued to be a part of the household. Trouble started when relatives from my wife’s side frequently visited. The book is huge, and the house we were occupying at that time was small, hence, I found it difficult to find a place to hide it. My wife asked me to discard the book. I asked my friends if anyone would be willing to wholeheartedly accept the book from me. A guy agreed to take possession of it. Months later, and after passing through several hands, the book found its way back to me. The guy who took the book from me had lied. He didn’t take it wholeheartedly from me, that’s why, I believe, the book didn’t stay with him. The wife asked me to burn it, but I didn’t have the heart to burn such a high quality and costly book. Without her knowing, I kept it hidden under a cot for many [...]]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2444</post-id>
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		<item>
		<title>Ghosts of a Golden Past</title>
		<link>https://joshimukard.wordpress.com/2019/12/11/ghosts-of-a-golden-past/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Joshi Mukard]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Wed, 11 Dec 2019 06:33:08 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Travel & Photography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ghost town]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[gold]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[gold mine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[KGF]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Kolar]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Kolar Gold Field]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[mine town]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://joshimukard.com/?p=2429</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[Recently, I set out to explore the colonial charm of Kolar Gold Fields, where time stands still. Gold mining in Kolar was set up in the 1880s and quickly became one of the most profitable mining centers in the world. The success led to the establishment of one of India&#8217;s first planned townships &#8211; Robertsonpet. After the British left India, KGF slowly fell into decline and finally ceased operations in 2001. The KGF Club is a testament to those glory days. Today Robertsonpet, once called Little England, is almost a ghost town. The charming colonial structures are crumbling due to poor maintenance. Go, see, before it&#8217;s all gone! KGF Club Patio of KGF Club One of the defunct mining factories One of the colonial houses in the ghost town area Distance from Bangalore]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2429</post-id>
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		<title>The Bengali from Kharagpur</title>
		<link>https://joshimukard.wordpress.com/2019/08/30/the-bengali-from-kharagpur/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Joshi Mukard]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 30 Aug 2019 05:54:07 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Crazy Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bengali]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://joshimukard.com/?p=2341</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[A month and a half back, one morning, I woke up with a start hearing a thumping sound coming from the basketball court below my window. I was annoyed. Who the hell was playing basketball in the middle of the night, I thought and grabbed the mobile phone to check the time. It was 7:30 am in the morning. I looked out of the window and saw my neighbor, a Bengali from Kharagpur (let’s call him Bengali A – A as in Apple), playing all alone &#8211; dribbling the ball from one end of the court to the other and trying to basket it (he rarely succeeded as he is a very short man). He went on doing this for more than half an hour. The same thing happened the next day. And the day after that. And it became a regular thing. He was always at it at 7:30 am sharp. I grew used to it. I no longer thought of it as a nuisance, instead, I thought, ‘Ah, the Bengali from Kharagpur! It must be 7:30 am.’ He worked as an alarm clock for me. But in the last five days, his timekeeping has been erratic. One day [...]]]></description>
		
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">2341</post-id>
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		<title>Monsoon Trek &#8211; Part 4</title>
		<link>https://joshimukard.wordpress.com/2019/08/16/monsoon-trek-part-4/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Joshi Mukard]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 16 Aug 2019 10:59:22 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Crazy Stories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Travel & Photography]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[forest]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[hike]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Hiking]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[karnataka]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[kudremukh]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[trek]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Trekking]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[western ghats]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://joshimukard.com/?p=2327</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[The ground under my feet is green and that’s all I can see. Harsh wind and shallow soil profile preclude tree growth in the upper reaches of the Western Ghats so it is in most parts covered in a carpet of rolling grassland. Miss. S and I, having broken out of the woods ahead of Mr. A.P and Mr. N, plod through this open grassland, and it has been like walking through a whiteout. Low hanging clouds have enveloped the grassland and visibility is limited. The trail looks to be gently ascending as it presumably ran along the sides, hugging the mountain. To my left could be a sheer drop but I cannot tell as I don’t see anything but white-ness. Miss. S walking a few steps away in the front fades in and out of view like a frightening apparition. We arrive at a fork junction. One trail goes up the slope and the other is angled towards the base, but in mountains, as in life, paths can be deceptive. Choosing the right path is always tricky and sometimes you need to be chill and do an ‘Inky pinky ponky’. Right when we are ready for a count-out, the [...]]]></description>
		
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		<title>Independence Day Message</title>
		<link>https://joshimukard.wordpress.com/2019/08/13/independence-day-message/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Joshi Mukard]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 13 Aug 2019 17:26:37 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
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