A mail I received from a colleague of mine…..

An atheist professor of philosophy speaks to his class on the problem science has with God, The Almighty. He asks one of his new students to stand and…..
 
Prof: So you believe in God? 
Student: Absolutely, sir. 
Prof: Is God good? 
Student: Sure.Prof: Is God all-powerful? 
Student: Yes. 
Prof: My brother died of cancer even though he prayed to God to heal him. Most of us would attempt to help others who are ill. But God didn’t. How is this God good then? Hmm? 
 
(Student is silent.) 
Prof: You can’t answer, can you? Let’s start again, young fella. Is God good? 
Student: Yes. 
Prof: Is Satan good? 
Student: No. 
Prof: Where does Satan come from? 
Student: From…God.. . 
Prof: That’s right. Tell me son, is there evil in this world? 
Student: Yes. 
Prof: Evil is everywhere, isn’t it? And God did make everything. Correct? 
Student: Yes. 
Prof: So who created evil? 
(Student does not answer.) 
 
Prof: Is there sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things exist in the world, don’t they? 
Student: Yes, sir. 
Prof: So, who created them? 
(Student has no answer.) 
 
Prof: Science says you have 5 senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Tell me, son…Have you ever seen God? 
Student: No, sir. 
Prof: Tell us if you have ever heard your God? 
Student: No, sir. 
Prof: Have you ever felt your God, tasted your God, smelt your God? Have you ever had any sensory perception of God for that matter? 
Student: No, sir. I’m afraid I haven’t. 
Prof: Yet you still believe in Him? 
Student: Yes. 
Prof: According to empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your GOD doesn’t exist. What do you say to that, son? 
Student: Nothing. I only have my faith. 
Prof: Yes. Faith. And that is the problem science has. 
Student: Professor, is there such a thing as heat? 
Prof: Yes. 
Student: And is there such a thing as cold? 
Prof: Yes… 
Student: No sir. There isn’t. (The lecture theatre becomes very quiet with this turn of events.) 
Student: : Sir, you can have lots of heat, even more heat, superheat, mega heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat. But we don’t have anything called cold. We can hit 458 degrees below zero which is no heat, but we can’t go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold . Cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it . 
 
(There is pin-drop silence in the lecture theatre.) 
Student: What about darkness, Professor? Is there such a thing as darkness? 
Prof: Yes. What is night if there isn’t darkness? 
Student : You’re wrong again, sir. Darkness is the absence of something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light…..But if you have no light constantly, you have nothing and it’s called darkness, isn’t it? In reality, darkness isn’t. If it were you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn’t you? 
Prof: So what is the point you are making, young man? 
Student: Sir, my point is your philosophical premise is flawed. 
Prof: Flawed? Can you explain how? 
Student: Sir, you are working on the premise of duality. You argue there is life and then there is death, a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can’t even explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one.To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life: just the absence of it. Now tell me, Professor.Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey? 
Prof: If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, yes, of course, I do. 
Student: Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir? 
(The Professor shakes his head with a smile, beginning to realize where the argument is going.) 
Student: Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you not a scientist but a preacher?
 
(The class is in uproar.) 
Student: Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the Professor’s brain? (The class breaks out into laughter.) 
Student: Is there anyone here who has ever heard the Professor’s brain, felt it, touched or smelt it? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain,sir. With all due respect, sir, how do we then trust your lectures, sir? 
(The room is silent. The professor stares at the student, his face unfathomable. ) 
Prof: I guess you’ll have to take them on faith, son. 
Student: That is it sir… The link between man & God is FAITH . That is all that keeps things moving & alive… 
 
 
NB: I believe you have enjoyed the conversation. ..and if so…you’ll probably want your friends/colleagues to enjoy the same…won’t you?…. this is a true story, and the student was none other than…….. .. 
 
 
 
 APJ Abdul Kalam , the former president of India .. 

A Hilarious Mail from a frustrated victim of chain mails
 
I wanted to thank all my friends and family who have forwarded chain letters to me in 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007 and 2008 and continuing it in 2009 also…….

Because of your kindness:

* I stopped drinking Coca Cola after I found out that it’s good for removing toilet stains.

* I stopped going to the movies for fear of sitting on a needle infected with AIDS.

* Forwarded hundreds of mails but still waiting for FREE DESKTOP, LAPTOP, CAMERA, CELLPHONE etc .

* I smell like a wet dog since I stopped using deodorants because they cause cancer…

* I don’t leave my car in the parking lot or any other place and sometimes I even have to walk about  7 blocks for fear that someone will drug me with a perfume sample and try to rob me.

* I also stopped answering the phone for fear that they may ask me to dial some number and then I get a phone bill with calls to Uganda, Pakistan, Singapore and Tokyo.

* I also stopped drinking anything out of a can for fear that I will get sick from the rat faeces and urine.

* When I go to parties, I don’t look at any girl, no matter how hot she is, for fear that she will take me to a hotel, drug me, then take my kidneys and leave me taking a nap in a bathtub full of ice.

*I also donated all my savings to the Amy Bruce account. A sick girl that was about to die in the hospital about 7,000 times.. (Poor girl! she’s been 7 since 1993…)

* Still open to help somebody from Nigeria who wants to use my account to transfer his uncle’s property of $ 100 million. So much trustworthiness.

* I have forwarded 35 emails to 400 people hoping that Ericsson or Nokia will send me their latest mobile phones but those models are also obsolete now.

* Made some hundred wishes before forwarding those Ganesh, Tirupathi Balaji pics etc. Now most of those ‘wishes’ are already married. (to someone else!!)

NOW IMPORTANT NOTE:

If you do not send this e-mail to at least 11,246 people in the next 10 seconds, a bird will Pee on your head today at 6:30pm.

Nothing has happened till now…………………. but who knows. So please forward.

I don’t seem to get any blog ideas these days. Might as well put up a mail that I received from a friend of mine. So here we go………….

Must Read for Every Man and of course Woman (to understand man)

If a female is reading this article then just realize the value of a man; and if its a male then feel proud after reading it!

“One day, while a woodcutter was cutting a branch of a tree above a river, his axe fell into the river. When he cried out, the Lord appeared and asked, “Why are you crying?”


The woodcutter replied that his axe has fallen into water, and he needed the axe to make his living.

The Lord went down into the water and reappeared with a golden axe. “Is this your axe?” the Lord asked.

The woodcutter replied, “No.”

The Lord again went down and came up with a silver Axe. “Is this your axe?” the Lord asked.

Again, the woodcutter replied, “No.”

The Lord went down again and came up with an iron Axe. “Is this your axe?” the Lord asked.

The woodcutter replied, “Yes.”
The Lord was pleased with the man’s honesty and gave him all three axes to keep, and the woodcutter went home happy.

Some time later the woodcutter was walking with his wife along the riverbank, and his wife fell into the river. When he cried out, the Lord again appeared and asked him, “Why are you crying?”

“Oh Lord, my wife has fallen into the water!”

The Lord went down into the water and came up with ANGELINA JOLIE “Is this your wife?” the Lord asked..

“Yes,” cried the woodcutter.

The Lord was furious. “You lied! That is an untruth!”

The woodcutter replied, “Oh, forgive me, my Lord. It is a misunderstanding. You see, if I had said ‘no’ to ANGELINA JOLIE , You would have come up with CAMERON DIAZ . Then if I said ‘no’ to her, you would have come up with my wife . Had I then said ‘yes,’ you would have given me all three. Lord, I am a poor man, and am not able to take care
Of all three wives, so THAT’S why I said yes to ANGELINA JOLIE .”

The moral is: Whenever a man lies, it is for a good and honorable reason, and for the benefit of others.

That’s our story, and we’re sticking to it! - “WE ARE HONORABLE LIARS!!!!!!”

Below is a letter from Abraham lincoln to his son’s class teacher. I found it interesting.

A interesting piece of information that I received in my INBOX, which was frankly ‘news’ to me. Thought I should share the same with you all;

Section 49'O of the Constitution

Did you know that there is a system in our constitution, as per the 1969 act, in section “49'O” that a person can go to the polling booth, confirm his identity, get his finger marked and convey to the presiding officer that he doesn’t want to vote anyone!

Yes such a feature is available, but obviously these seemingly notorious leaders have never disclosed it. This is called “49'O“.

Why should you go and say “I VOTE NOBODY“… because, in a ward, if a candidate wins, say by 123 votes, and that particular ward has received “49'O” votes more than 123, then that polling will be cancelled and will have to be re'polled. Not only that, but the candidature of the contestants will be removed and they cannot contest the re'polling, since people had already expressed their decision on them. This would bring fear into parties and hence look for genuine candidates for their parties for election. This would change the way; of our whole political system… it is seemingly surprising why the election commission has not revealed such a feature to the public….

Please spread this news to as many as you know…Seems to be a wonderful weapon against corrupt parties in India… show your power, expressing your desire not to vote for anybody, is even more powerful than voting… so don’t miss your chance. So either vote, or vote not to vote (vote 49'O) and pass this info on…

Hi, just got a mail from a friend of mine. The contents were hilariously factual, if i may say so.

Found on the IIMA student board..

“The Travails of Single South Indian men of conservative upbringing” or “Why we don’t get any…”

Yet another action packed weekend in Mumbai, full of fun, frolic and introspection. I have learnt many things. For example having money when none of your friends have any is as good as not having any. And after spending much time in movie theatres, cafes and restaurants I have gathered many insights into the endless monotony that is the love life of south Indian men.  What I have unearthed is most disheartening. Disheartening because comprehension of these truths will not change our status anytime soon. However there is also cause for joy. We never stood a chance anyway. What loads the dice against virile, gallant, well educated, good looking, sincere mallus and tams? (Kandus were once among us, but Bangalore has changed all that.)

Our futures are shot to hell as soon as our parents bestow upon us names that are anything but alluring. I cannot imagine a more foolproof way of making sure the child remains single till classified advertisements or that maternal uncle in San Francisco thinks otherwise. Name him “Parthasarathy Venkatachalapthy” and his inherent capability to combat celibacy is obliterated before he could even talk. He will grow to be known as Partha. Before he knows, his smart, seductively named northy classmates start calling him Paratha. No woman in their right minds will go anyway near poor Parthasarathy. His investment banking job doesn’t help either. His employer loves him though. He has no personal life you see. By this time the Sanjay Singhs and Bobby Khans from his class have small businesses of their own and spend 60% of their lives in discos and pubs. The remaining 40% is spent coochicooing with leather and denim clad muses in their penthouse flats on Nepean Sea Road. Business is safely in the hands of the Mallu manager. After all with a name like Blossom Babykutty he cant use his 30,000 salary anywhere. Blossom gave up on society when in school they automatically enrolled him for Cookery Classes. Along with all the girls.

Yes, my dear reader, nomenclature is the first nail in a coffin of neglect and hormonal pandemonium. In a kinder world they would just name the poor southern male child and throw him off the balcony. “Yes, Appa we have named him Goundamani…” THUD. Life would have been less kinder to him anyway.  If all the women the Upadhyays, Kumars, Pintos and, god forbid, the Sens and Roys in the world have met were distributed amongst the Arunkumars, Vadukuts and Chandramogans we would all be merry casanovas with 3 to 4 pretty things at each arm. But alas it is not to be. Of course the south Indian women have no such issues. They have names which are like sweet poetry to the ravenous northie hormone tanks. Picture this: “Welcome, and this is my family.   This is my daughter Poorni (what a sweet name!!) and my son Ponnalagusamy (er..hello..)..” Cyanide would not be fast enough for poor Samy.. Nothing Samy does will help him. He can pump iron, drive fast cars and wear snazzy clothes, but against a braindead dude called Arjun Singhania he has as much chance of getting any as a Benedictine Monk in a Saharan Seminary.

Couple this with the other failures that have plagued our existence.  Any attempt at spiking hair with gel fails miserably. In an hour I have a crown of greasy, smelly fibrous mush. My night ends there. However the northy just has to scream “Wakaw!!!” and you have to peel the women off him to let him breathe. In a disco while we can manage the medium hip shake with neck curls, once the Bhangra starts pumping we are as fluid as cement and gravel in a mixer. Karan Kapoor or Jatin Thapar in the low cut jeans with chaddi strap showing and see through shirt throws his elbows perfectly, the cynosure of all attention. The women love a man who digs pasta and fondue. But why do they not see the simple pleasures of curd rice and coconut chutney? When poor Senthilnathan opens his tiffin box in the office lunch room his female coworkers just disappear when they see the tamarind rice and poppadums. The have all rematerialised around Bobby Singh who has ordered in Pizza and Garlic bread. (And they have the gall to talk of foreign origin.)

How can a man like me brought up in roomy lungis and oversized polyester shirts ever walk the walk in painted on jeans (that makes a big impression) and neon yellow rib hugging t shirts? All I can do is don my worn “comfort fit” jeans and floral shirt. Which is pretty low on the “Look at me, lady!” scale, just above fig leaf skirt and feather headgear a la caveman, and a mite below Khakhi Shirt over a red t shirt and baggy khakhi pants and white trainers a la Rajni in “Badsha”.

Sociologically too the tam or mallu man is severely sidelined. An average tam stud stays in a house with, on average, three grandparents, three sets of uncles and aunts, and over 10 children. Not the ideal atmosphere for some intimacy and some full throated “WHOSE YOUR DADDY!!!” at the 3 in the morning.  The mallu guy of course is almost always in the gulf working alone on some onshore oil rig in the desert. Rheumatic elbows me thinks.

Alas dear friends we are not just meant to set the nights on fire. We are just not built to be “The Ladies Man”. The black man has hip hop, the white man has Rock, the southie guy only has idlis and tomato rasam or an NRI account in South Indian Bank Ernakulam Branch. Alas as our destiny was determined in one fell swoop by our nomenclature, so will our future be. A nice arranged little love story. But the agony of course does not end there. On the first night, as the stud sits on his bed finally within touching distance and  whispers his sweet desires into her delectable ear, she blushes, turns around and whispers back “But amma has said only on second saturdays…”

Oft repeated and heard right from childhood by many. And he realised the same now. That you never realise the importance of something till the moment you lose it.

It’s been 3 months since father passed away. And it’s taken 3 months for it to sink in that he’s gone. And this very realisation has left a gaping hole in life, kind of a vaccuum. Father had been everything - a shoulder to weep on during days of despair, a companion to celebrate success, rejoicing in each other’s company on weekends having a drink together…………just don’t remember a day when father was not there. And now….father’s gone and the painful realisation—–after 3 months. It’s only now that its begun to sink in. And man…what to say. At times can smell his presence. At times can hear him calling out. There’s been no day spent without his thoughts. Somehow feel his presence at home, but know as well that he’s gone….never ever to come back….My Father.

I’ve been several times at the keyboard, since my father passed away. In the last 3 months, I have indulged in all sorts of household chores just to forget - and its only now that I feel like writing about it. There were no secrets between us, me and my dad. I knew him just too well, maybe even better than he himself could imagine.

After the last rites were performed, I was never alone - which was good in a way, but was bad in a way. It’s when all of them my relatives left… that I really faced the old man again, and came to an understanding within myself about things.

Maybe the old man was simply around when I needed him, and he left when he thought I didn’t need him anymore, or maybe that I could manage things on my own. Confidence, my father did have in me… and he did tell me….. in not so many words though….but it was said and understood. 

In the end… he’s gone. The depth of that absence will be felt for the rest of my life, need not be in terms of mourning, since time is a cure in itself.

Father, I am happy that I did tell you before you left that you’ve been a wonderful father to me and that you have done everything that a son would expect from his father. And frankly I am scared if I would be as successful in bringing up my son the way you have.

Miss you father.

Hi Guys,
Been a long time. Back again. Time now to browse through your entries. Shall get in touch with each of you soon. Until then;

Cheers

Preamble:

He used to
come home once in a month or so. He has been literally on the roads since 1976.
He left home when his son was 10 years old. His son is 42 now. He came back in
1986. But by then his family didn't want him. Well, no blame games, who would
need a man who deserts his family and vanishes for 10 long years. The son says.
" I have never known a father when I needed him most" and the wife says the
same. All said and done, no one ultimately needed him.

So this
uncle of mine roamed the streets. Spent most of these years at Guruvayoor (The
very famous Krishna temple) selling lottery
tickets in the town. No cribs. Lived a simple life. Used to come home once in a
while. And on these occasions I used to give him some money. Content man that
he was, used to return back to his world happily. What used to astonish me was
the fact that whenever there was a function at any of our relatives places, he
used to promptly drop in there. How? No clue.

1500 hrs:
20 May 2008  

Uncle came
home. He looked quite ok since the last time I met him which was about a month
and a half ago. He said he was in a government hospital since the past 20 days.
He had a swollen face and legs. At 78, I thought it a normal complaint. 

0900 hrs:
21 May 2008

He had had
his breakfast. I walked into the dining hall. He looked quite frail. And since
the time I remember, he has always looked frail to me. I sat down beside him
and told him bluntly that he could not stay for long. My father had been
diagnosed with lung cancer in February this year. Mother was as it is weak but
still managing the house hold chores. I had quit my high paying job abroad and
had decided to look after my dad for the remaining part of his life. Mother was
finding it very difficult to manage the house. These were the factors that
weighed on my mind when I told my uncle that he could not stay for long at my
house. I told him that I would find a old age home for him within 2 weeks and
that I would foot the bill for all his expenses thereafter. But as soon as I
said this, I thought I saw despair on his face. And maybe at some point during
this conversation I thought that I should not have made this statement. He was
a proud man. Never asked anyone for help. And maybe he did not expect me to say
something like this.

1500 hrs:
21 May 2008

I had got
used to sleeping in the afternoons since the day I came home from abroad,
especially since I would spend near sleepless nights, looking after father.
This was no different day. I was shaken awake from my sleep by a weird
sound,  one which probably would ring in
my ears for the rest of my life. I snapped out of my sleep and what I saw next
was my uncle gasping for breath accompanied by the most horrific deep throated
sound that I have heard. I helped him to a chair and he through his miserable
gasp for air, said that he has to be taken to a hospital. I still cannot recall
how I took him out of the house or how I reached the hospital about 12 KM away.
I remember driving the car in a daze, with my uncle reclined at the back and
the inhuman sound from his throat ringing in my ears. The headlights were ON
and the horn was blaring as I covered this distance through a heavy traffic.
The first hospital that I arrived at gave him a first aid and said that he be taken
to a better hospital since he is suspected to have a cardiac problem.

1545 hrs:
21 May 2008

I drove the
car to the Casualty department of Lakeshore hospital. It was 45 minutes since
he came gasping into the house. The deep throated sound was getting worse. He
was shifted on a stretcher into the emergency ward. Tubes and wires were
inserted into him. ECG, X Ray and the whole lot of tests followed. I could hear
the uncanny sounds coming from machines. Doctors asked me his medical history.
I knew nothing. They said he has a pulmonary and a cardiac problem. Something
from within told me that this was just not right.

THE WAIT

It was a
long wait. He was shifted to the ICCU. I kept sneaking into the ICCU. And he
seemed no better than the first time I saw him gasping for air. By now he could
not talk legibly. It was only gasps and his flailing arms. This went on for 18
hours.

0300 hrs:
22 May 2008

I asked my
cousin to wait at the ICCU and drove down to my uncles wife's place. The woman
who opened the door looked much beyond her age. She had seen the worst. But I
had to tell her. And I did. Informed her that things were bad with her husband
and it may be the end of the road for him. I thought it is my responsibility to
tell her. I did, and as I walked out of her house, I could hear her sobbing
behind me.

0830 hrs:
22 May 2008

I took my
mother to the ICCU. She was sobbing uncontrollably. I let her be on her own. By
this time the gasp had reduced to a shiver. He was almost gone. The instrument
which showed his BP read 70/13.

0900 hrs:
22 May 2008

Anu, the
ICCU head nurse called me and said that it was all over. I felt a bit glad I
should say. He suffered for 18 hours gasping for breath. The sleepless night
and the tension got over me. I felt numb.

By 1045 hrs
I got the body released (Sounds strange to address my uncle thus) and took him
to Ayvar madom in Palakkad distict for his last rights according to Hindu
custom. Came back home at 2130 hrs. As the car sped along the highway, I
realized that maybe it is that one statement of mine which hit him hard. An old
man who probably had high hopes on me to take care of him in his final journey
was shocked by what I said.

 SO WHO KILLED MY UNCLE?

Hi Guys…..Long time.

I used to wonder why I was what I was. Why wasn’t I that shrewd son of a bitch who was more calculating (Mathlabi?) in life? Why wasn’t I smart enough to USE people to my own good? Why wasn’t I attractive in terms of being popular amongst the people who mattered the most? Why? Why? Why? It took me 39 years to find out all those things were only my choice of thoughts. I hope it doesn’t take you that long. It really matters very little what your friends, teachers, parents, etc. think or believe about you. Because you are you, it is your opinion that counts. You don’t need the validation of others. But you do need the acceptance, love and validation of yourself.