WHO warns of severe form of swine flu

Doctors are reporting a severe form of swine flu that goes straight to the lungs, causing severe illness in otherwise healthy young people and requiring expensive hospital treatment, the World Health Organization said Friday.

Some countries are reporting that as many as 15 percent of patients hospitalized with the new H1N1 pandemic virus need intensive care, further straining already overburdened healthcare systems, WHO said in an update on the pandemic.

"During the winter season in the southern hemisphere, several countries have viewed the need for intensive care as the greatest burden on health services," it said.

"Preparedness measures need to anticipate this increased demand on intensive care units, which could be overwhelmed by a sudden surge in the number of severe cases."

Earlier, WHO reported that H1N1 had reached epidemic levels in Japan, signaling an early start to what may be a long influenza season this year, and that it was also worsening in tropical regions.

"Perhaps most significantly, clinicians from around the world are reporting a very severe form of disease, also in young and otherwise healthy people, which is rarely seen during seasonal influenza infections," WHO said.

"In these patients, the virus directly infects the lung, causing severe respiratory failure. Saving these lives depends on highly specialized and demanding care in intensive care units, usually with long and costly stays."

MINORITIES AT RISK

Minority groups and indigenous populations may also have a higher risk of being severely ill with H1N1.

"In some studies, the risk in these groups is four to five times higher than in the general population," WHO said.

"Although the reasons are not fully understood, possible explanations include lower standards of living and poor overall health status, including a high prevalence of conditions such as asthma, diabetes and hypertension."

WHO said it was advising countries in the Northern Hemisphere to prepare for a second wave of pandemic spread. "Countries with tropical climates, where the pandemic virus arrived later than elsewhere, also need to prepare for an increasing number of cases," it said.

Every year, seasonal flu infects between 5 percent and 20 percent of a given population and kills between 250,000 and 500,000 people globally. Because hardly anyone has immunity to the new H1N1 virus, experts believe it will infect far more people than usual, as much as a third of the population.

It also disproportionately affects younger people, unlike seasonal flu which mainly burdens the elderly, and thus may cause more severe illness and deaths among young adults and children than seasonal flu does.

"Data continue to show that certain medical conditions increase the risk of severe and fatal illness. These include respiratory disease, notably asthma, cardiovascular disease, diabetes and immunosuppression," WHO said.

"When anticipating the impact of the pandemic as more people become infected, health officials need to be aware that many of these predisposing conditions have become much more widespread in recent decades, thus increasing the pool of vulnerable people."

WHO estimates that more than 230 million people globally have asthma, and more than 220 million have diabetes. Obesity may also worsen the risk of severe infection, WHO said.

The good news -- people infected with AIDS virus do not seem to be at special risk from H1N1, WHO said.

Roll, Baby, Roll

Delhi's on a roll, literally. It seems everyone from students at North Campus to corporate

honchos in Connaught Place are getting drawn to the lure of steaming hot veg/non veg 'rolls' during lunchtime. Students are increasingly turning to this new avatar of fast food to escape the monotony of their college lunch menu. "Most canteens in DU have the same chole bhature or rajma chawal combo on offer for lunch," said Ankush Kumar, from Ramjas College. "Out-station students like me have the same dinner menu at our PGs, too. So for us, rolls are a refreshing change," he added. Parakram Hazarika agrees. "Besides being boring, I find college food too heavy. A chicken roll, however, is filling and doesn't make you doze off during late afternoon tutorial sessions," he said. Accessible and delectable, the corporate world, too has given in to the temptation of the 'roll''. "There's a roll vendor right below my office building," said Rajneesh Mittal, an MNC employee at CP. "The vendor knows me and has my mutton roll prepared when lunch break begins. All I have to do is go down, pay the man and grab a mini bottle of coke with it. I'm done with my lunch even before I reach my 15th floor office by lift." Perhaps it's the quickness of such a meal that attracts the 'sociable but busy' types like Saloni Verma. "Lunch is often the only time I get to chill with my friends working in other stores," said this manager at a Noida mall.

Reservation based on Castes / religions in India..

This is currently the talk of every town/village in India (my country). I really did not want to discuss this in my blog here but then I do not have any other blog dedicated for this kind of subject.
I have never really understood the caste/religion based reservation system in todays scenario. Few questions really comes to my mind when I read about all this.

How much sense it really make to have this kind of reservervation system now? This systems was introduced 50-60 years ago. It really made sense at that point of time since our society was really divided based on all this crap and an upliftment was required. But again it was meant for only next 30 years. It was not scraped afterwards because of our great politicans.

When Mr. Arjun Singh (whoever he is, am not sure) came out with this idea, did he make any kind of study/analysis before? why does not he present the number/analysis to the whole nation about his study. At least, I will be really happy to buy his ideas if he has concrete numbers with him which show that its really required. In God we trust, rest of us have to present the numbers to prove the point.

What kind of purpose it serve? A person is characterised by his persona not by caste or religion or any geographical boundry he belongs to. Also a caste / religion does not necessarily represent the economic status of a person. I agree that even in today's world, the society in some places of my country is really divided based on all this crap. But then there are lot of people who do not believe in all this and do not want anybody to believe either. Then why our politicians want to create a bigger divide in our society based on all this? just to keep their chair safe.

What kind of system we need? I know that in my country lot of of people are below poverty line. Their kids, instead of studying or getting the quality education, goes to work. Why not our politicians think about them? They are the people who need help irrespective of their caste/religions/region. May be we need a free education system in place for them or may be even reservation. Since having a free quality education is a distant dream as of now.

I recently read an article where Lalu mentioned about having a reservation for upper caste people. He is the maan!! Infact the right man to lead the nation!! ha ha :) kidding.

One of my friend Vivek has written an article about this. You can read it here .

Online Storage Drive..

I have been hearing about Google's ambitious project GDrive for some time now. Recently I read Michael Arrington's article about Microsoft's Live Drive.
I sometime wonder about Microsoft's overall strategy in terms of product. They had always believed in making a thick Client (powerful) and a thin Server.. But ever since Google has been pursuing the ideas of shifting the focus more on server side, Microsoft has been trying almost everything what google is upto. I think Microsoft missed the search focus early on to give google an advantage and that is the reason they do not want to miss anything else now :-)

I looked on the web and found that there are few social storage sites like www.xdrive.com, www.esnips.com etc. Though I have never tried them. I am eagerly awaiting to push all my data in hard drive to GDrive. I just can't stop imagineing a day when we should be able to do everything online with our small gadget like a smart phone.

Who's to blame for US financial market crisis

The question comes to my mind whenever I hear about another financial institution filing for chapter 11 bankruptcy in one of the sound financial system in the world.

1. Do we blame Government/Fed/Monetary authorities for the lack of regulations in the market? They saw the housing prices going north since 2001. Fed had kept the interest rates low for a longer period since the tech bubble burst obviously with good intentions but overlooking future implications. They saw the questionable practices of banks lending loans to the credit unworthy customers and did nothing perhaps to respect the free market practices. Well, free markets work only in theory and now we know it.
   
2. Do we blame these financial institutions and their highly paid executives who were hell bent on making more money at any risk under the practice called subprime lending? Debt to equity ratio was never an issue for them. Idea was simple; credit worthiness of customers is barely an issue because even if customers default on their mortgages, these banks could make more money by selling the same houses at higher prices in future. But then who said housing prices will always go up? Taking risk is good but it is said that not a well calculated risk is greed. Looking at how many people are losing their bread and butter money, the only thing one can hope for is that tax payers money is not used to pay severance packages for these executives.
   
3. or do we blame people for driving the housing prices like crazy? Isn't it a basic that we back ourselves financially well with sound assets (or savings) before opting for mortgages or any liabilities in general?
   

I think the answer is combination of all these. Underlying problem in the system has always been the housing bubble. Even after falling sharply for months, the housing prices are still far from reality. It is hard say now how the government's most liberal economic stimulus plan so far to bail out the economy is going to help troubled house owners with their mortgages. The problems aren't going away unless the housing market is stabilized. I also spent some time in past looking for a house to buy but then gave up after seeing the craziness in prices. Looking back now, I don't have anything to regret.

How poor we are!!

One day, the father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the express purpose of showing him how poor people live.

They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family. On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, “How was the trip?” “It was great, Dad.” “Did you see how poor people live?” the father asked. “Oh yeah,” said the son. “So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?” asked the father. The son answered: “I saw that we have one dog and they had four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end. We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night. Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon. “We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight. “We have servants who serve us, but they serve others. We buy our food, but they grow theirs. “We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect them.”

The boy’s father was speechless. Then his son added, “Thanks Dad for showing me how poor we are.”

Healing Power of Writing

Putting pen to paper can help you lose weight, reduce stress and take control of your health
After suffering from PMS for over a decade, Debra Van Wert, 44, of New York, started recording her symptoms. Three months later, she saw a pattern. “Writing helped me anticipate hormonal phases and identify which weeks I felt my best and worst,” says Van Wert. Today, she’s in better control of her condition.
She had the right idea. Researchers are discovering that keeping a journal can reduce pain, help with weight loss, even ease serious stress. “Writing may produce changes in immune or hormonal responses to stress, and improve relationships and our capa- city to cope with stress,” says Joshua M. Smyth, an American psychologist. He found that writing about a traumatic experience eased pain in rheumatoid arthritis patients and boosted lung function in asthmatics. Other research has found the following benefits of writing:
Lose weight Keeping a detailed food diary has been shown to help people drop kilos. In one study it was the strongest predictor of weight loss. Researchers with America’s Women’s Health Initiative found that food diaries help create awareness about calorie consumption and fat intake. And when you know how much you’re eating, it’s easier to make changes.
Improve sleep At an American university, women who wrote about traumatic experiences like rape or a serious car accident reported fewer headaches, sleep problems and depressive symptoms than those who didn’t.
Fight illness In a 2002 study at Israel’s Ben-Gurion University, people who wrote about a stressful event made fewer visits to health clinics over the next 15 months.
Slash stress In a study at Chicago Medical School, when cancer patients who lacked family support wrote about their illness for 20 minutes a day, they reported less stress for up to six months.

Those lips that Love's own hand did make by William Shakespeare

Those lips that Love's own hand did make
Breathed forth the sound that said "I hate"
To me that languished for her sake;
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
Was used in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus anew to greet:
"I hate" she altered with an end,
That followed it as gentle day
Doth follow night, who like a fiend
From heaven to hell is flown away.
"I hate" from hate away she threw,
And saved my life, saying "not you."

A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.


And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it ware ten thousand mile.

To a Stranger. by Walt Whitman

PASSING stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me, as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me, or a girl with me,
I ate with you, and slept with you—your body has become not yours only, nor left my body
mine
only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass—you take of my beard,
breast,
hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you—I am to think of you when I sit alone, or wake at night alone,
I am to wait—I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

I Taught Myself To Live Simply by Anna Akhmatova

I taught myself to live simply and wisely,
to look at the sky and pray to God,
and to wander long before evening
to tire my superfluous worries.
When the burdocks rustle in the ravine
and the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droops
I compose happy verses
about life's decay, decay and beauty.
I come back. The fluffy cat
licks my palm, purrs so sweetly
and the fire flares bright
on the saw-mill turret by the lake.
Only the cry of a stork landing on the roof
occasionally breaks the silence.
If you knock on my door
I may not even hear.

A Sincere Man Am I (Verse I) - by Jose Marti

A sincere man am I
From the land where palm trees grow,
And I want before I die
My soul's verses to bestow.

I'm a traveller to all parts,
And a newcomer to none:
I am art among the arts,
With the mountains I am one.

I know how to name and class
All the strange flowers that grow;
I know every blade of grass,
Fatal lie and sublime woe.

I have seen through dead of night
Upon my head softly fall,
Rays formed of the purest light
From beauty celestial.

I have seen wings that were surging
From beautiful women's shoulders,
And seen butterflies emerging
From the refuse heap that moulders.

I have known a man to live
With a dagger at his side,
And never once the name give
Of she by whose hand he died.

Twice, for an instant, did I
My soul's reflection espy:
Twice: when my poor father died
And when she bade me good-bye.

I trembled once, when I flung
The vineyard gate, and to my dread,
The wicked hornet had stung
My little girl on the forehead.

I rejoiced once and felt lucky
The day that my jailer came
To read the death warrant to me
That bore his tears and my name.

I hear a sigh across the earth,
I hear a sigh over the deep:
It is no sign reaching my hearth,
But my son waking from sleep.

If they say I have obtained
The pick of the jeweller's trove,
A good friend is what I've gained
And I have put aside love.

I have seen across the skies
A wounded eagle still flying;
I know the cubby where lies
The snake of its venom dying.

I know that the world is weak
And must soon fall to the ground,
Then the gentle brook will speak
Above the quiet profound.

While trembling with joy and dread,
I have touched with hand so bold
A once-bright star that fell dead
From heaven at my threshold.

On my brave heart is engraved
The sorrow hidden from all eyes:
The son of a land enslaved,
Lives for it, suffers and dies.

All is beautiful and right,
All is as music and reason;
And all, like diamonds, is light
That was coal before its season.

I know when fools are laid to rest
Honor and tears will abound,
And that of all fruits, the best
Is left to rot in holy ground.

Without a word, the pompous muse
I've set aside, and understood:
From a withered branch, I choose
To hang my doctoral hood.

Conference Of The Birds - by Farid al-Din Attar

Attar began The Conference of the Birds (Mantiq al-tair) with an invocation praising the holy Creator in which he suggested that one must live a hundred lives to know oneself; but you must know God by the deity, not by yourself, for God opens the way, not human wisdom. 'Attar believed that God is beyond all human knowledge. The soul will manifest itself when the body is laid aside. One cannot gain spiritual knowledge without dying to all things. When the birds assemble, they wonder why they have no king. The Hoopoe presents herself as a messenger from the invisible world with knowledge of God and the secrets of creation. She recommends Simurgh as their true king, saying that one of his feathers fell on China.

The Nightingale says that the love of the Rose satisfies him, and the journey is beyond his strength; but the Hoopoe warns against being a slave of passing love that interferes with seeking self-perfection. The Parrot longs for immortality, and the Hoopoe encourages the Peacock to choose the whole. The Duck is too content with water to seek the Simurgh. The Hoopoe advises the Partridge that gems are just colored stones and that love of them hardens the heart; she should seek the real jewel of sound quality. The Humay is distracted by ambition, and the Owl loves only the treasure he has found. The Hoopoe reprimands the Sparrow for taking pride in humility and recommends struggling bravely with oneself. She states that the different birds are just shadows of the Simurgh. If they succeed, they will not be God; but they will be immersed in God. If they look in their hearts, they will see the divine image. All appearances are just the shadow of the Simurgh. Those loving truly do not think about their own lives and sacrifice their desires. Those grounded in love renounce faith and religion as well as unbelief. One must hear with the ear of the mind and the heart.

A total of 22 birds speak to the Hoopoe or ask questions about the journey. Short anecdotes are told to illustrate the Hoopoe's points. The Hoopoe says that it is better to lose your life than to languish miserably. The Hoopoe says,

So long as we do not die to ourselves,
and so long as we identify with someone or something,
we shall never be free.
The spiritual way is not for those wrapped up in exterior life.5

You will enjoy happiness if you succeed in withdrawing from attachment to the world. Whoever is merciful even to the merciless is favored by the compassionate. It is better to agree to differ than to quarrel. The Hoopoe warns the sixth bird against the dog of desire that runs ahead. Each vain desire becomes a demon, and yielding to each one begets a hundred others. The world is a prison under the devil, and one should have no truck with its master. The Hoopoe also says that if you let no one benefit from your gold, you will not profit either; but by the smallest gift to the poor you both benefit. She says,

Good fortune will come to you only as you give.
If you cannot renounce life completely,
you can at least free yourself
from the love of riches and honors.6

A pupil becomes afraid in facing a choice between two roads, but a shaikh advises getting rid of fear so that either road will be good. The Hoopoe tells the eighth bird that only if death ceases to exercise power over creatures would it be wise to remain content in a golden palace. The ninth bird is told that sensual love is a game inspired by passing beauty that is fleeting. The Hoopoe asks what is uglier than a body made of flesh and bones. It is better to seek the hidden beauty of the invisible world. An anecdote about Jesus yields the following lesson:

Strive to discover the mystery before life is taken from you.
If while living you fail to find yourself, to know yourself,
how will you be able to understand
the secret of your existence when you die?7

The Hoopoe advises the eleventh bird that giving yourself over to pride or self-pity will disturb you. Since the world passes, pass it by, for whoever becomes identified with transient things has no part in the lasting things. The suffering endured is made glorious and is a treasure for the seer, for blessings will come if you make efforts on the path. The fifteenth bird is told that justice is salvation, and the just are saved from errors. Being just is better than a life of worship. Justice exercised in secret is even better than liberality; but justice professed openly may lead to hypocrisy. A story of two drunks teaches that we see faults because we do not love. When we understand real love, the faults of those near us appear as good qualities. When you see the ugliness of your own faults, you will not bother so much with the faults of others.

The journey of the birds takes them through the seven valleys of the quest, love, understanding, independence and detachment, unity, astonishment, and finally poverty and nothingness. In the valley of the quest one undergoes a hundred difficulties and trials. After one has been tested and become free, one learns in the valley of love that love has nothing to do with reason. The valley of understanding teaches that knowledge is temporary, but understanding endures. Overcoming faults and weaknesses brings the seeker closer to the goal. In the valley of independence and detachment one has no desire to possess nor any wish to discover. To cross this difficult valley one must be roused from apathy to renounce inner and outer attachments so that one can become self-sufficient. In the valley of unity the Hoopoe announces that although you may see many beings, in reality there is only one, which is complete in its unity. As long as you are separate, good and evil will arise; but when you lose yourself in the divine essence, they will be transcended by love. When unity is achieved, one forgets all and forgets oneself in the valley of astonishment and bewilderment.

The Hoopoe declares that the last valley of deprivation and death is almost impossible to describe. In the immensity of the divine ocean the pattern of the present world and the future world dissolves. As you realize that the individual self does not really exist, the drop becomes part of the great ocean forever in peace. The analogy of moths seeking the flame is used. Out of thousands of birds only thirty reach the end of the journey. When the light of lights is manifested and they are in peace, they become aware that the Simurgh is them. They begin a new life in the Simurgh and contemplate the inner world. Simurgh, it turns out, means thirty birds; but if forty or fifty had arrived, it would be the same. By annihilating themselves gloriously in the Simurgh they find themselves in joy, learn the secrets, and receive immortality. So long as you do not realize your nothingness and do not renounce your self-pride, vanity, and self-love, you will not reach the heights of immortality. 'Attar concluded the epilog with the admonition that if you wish to find the ocean of your soul, then die to all your old life and then keep silent.

l(a... (a leaf falls on loneliness) - by e e cummings

l(a

le
af
fa
ll

s)
one
l

iness

“Hope” is the thing with feathers—by Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

The Giving Tree - by Sheldon Allan Silverstein

Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree....
very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, "Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy."
"I am too big to climb and play" said
the boy.
"I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money?"
"I'm sorry," said the tree, "but I
have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in
the city. Then you will have money and
you will be happy."
And so the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time....
and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook with joy
and she said, "Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy."
"I am too busy to climb trees," said the boy.
"I want a house to keep me warm," he said.
"I want a wife and I want children,
and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house ?"
" I have no house," said the tree.
"The forest is my house,
but you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy."

And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
"Come, Boy," she whispered,
"come and play."
"I am too old and sad to play,"
said the boy.
"I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?"
"Cut down my trunk
and make a boat," said the tree.
"Then you can sail away...
and be happy."
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.

And after a long time
the boy came back again.
"I am sorry, Boy,"
said the tree," but I have nothing
left to give you -
My apples are gone."
"My teeth are too weak
for apples," said the boy.
"My branches are gone,"
said the tree. " You
cannot swing on them - "
"I am too old to swing
on branches," said the boy.
"My trunk is gone, " said the tree.
"You cannot climb - "
"I am too tired to climb" said the boy.
"I am sorry," sighed the tree.
"I wish that I could give you something....
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry...."
"I don't need very much now," said the boy.
"just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired."
"Well," said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
"well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest."
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.

Mother To Son - by Langston Hughes

Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So, boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps.
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now—
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

Feelings - by Spike Milligan

There must be a wound!
No one can be this hurt
and not bleed.

How could she injure me so?
No marks
No bruises

Worse!
People say 'My, you're looking well'
…..God help me!
She's mummified me -
ALIVE!

Where The Mind Is Without Fear - by Rabindranath Tagore

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

I Cry - by Tupac Shakur

Sometimes when I'm alone
I Cry,
Cause I am on my own.
The tears I cry are bitter and warm.
They flow with life but take no form
I Cry because my heart is torn.
I find it difficult to carry on.

If I had an ear to confiding,
I would cry among my treasured friend,
but who do you know that stops that long,
to help another carry on.


The world moves fast and it would rather pass by.
Then to stop and see what makes one cry,
so painful and sad.
And sometimes…
I Cry
and no one cares about why.

Alone - by Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

Cinderella - by Roald Dahl

I guess you think you know this story.
You don't. The real one's much more gory.
The phoney one, the one you know,
Was cooked up years and years ago,
And made to sound all soft and sappy
just to keep the children happy.
Mind you, they got the first bit right,
The bit where, in the dead of night,
The Ugly Sisters, jewels and all,
Departed for the Palace Ball,
While darling little Cinderella
Was locked up in a slimy cellar,
Where rats who wanted things to eat,
Began to nibble at her feet.

She bellowed 'Help!' and 'Let me out!
The Magic Fairy heard her shout.
Appearing in a blaze of light,
She said: 'My dear, are you all right?'
'All right?' cried Cindy .'Can't you see
'I feel as rotten as can be!'
She beat her fist against the wall,
And shouted, 'Get me to the Ball!
'There is a Disco at the Palace!
'The rest have gone and I am jealous!
'I want a dress! I want a coach!
'And earrings and a diamond brooch!
'And silver slippers, two of those!
'And lovely nylon panty hose!
'Done up like that I'll guarantee
'The handsome Prince will fall for me!'
The Fairy said, 'Hang on a tick.'
She gave her wand a mighty flick
And quickly, in no time at all,
Cindy was at the Palace Ball!

It made the Ugly Sisters wince
To see her dancing with the Prince.
She held him very tight and pressed
herself against his manly chest.
The Prince himself was turned to pulp,
All he could do was gasp and gulp.
Then midnight struck. She shouted,'Heck!
I've got to run to save my neck!'
The Prince cried, 'No! Alas! Alack!'
He grabbed her dress to hold her back.
As Cindy shouted, 'Let me go!'
The dress was ripped from head to toe.

She ran out in her underwear,
And lost one slipper on the stair.
The Prince was on it like a dart,
He pressed it to his pounding heart,
'The girl this slipper fits,' he cried,
'Tomorrow morn shall be my bride!
I'll visit every house in town
'Until I've tracked the maiden down!'
Then rather carelessly, I fear,
He placed it on a crate of beer.

At once, one of the Ugly Sisters,
(The one whose face was blotched with blisters)
Sneaked up and grabbed the dainty shoe,
And quickly flushed it down the loo.
Then in its place she calmly put
The slipper from her own left foot.
Ah ha, you see, the plot grows thicker,
And Cindy's luck starts looking sicker.

Next day, the Prince went charging down
To knock on all the doors in town.
In every house, the tension grew.
Who was the owner of the shoe?
The shoe was long and very wide.
(A normal foot got lost inside.)
Also it smelled a wee bit icky.
(The owner's feet were hot and sticky.)
Thousands of eager people came
To try it on, but all in vain.
Now came the Ugly Sisters' go.
One tried it on. The Prince screamed, 'No!'
But she screamed, 'Yes! It fits! Whoopee!
'So now you've got to marry me!'
The Prince went white from ear to ear.
He muttered, 'Let me out of here.'
'Oh no you don't! You made a vow!
'There's no way you can back out now!'
'Off with her head!'The Prince roared back.
They chopped it off with one big whack.
This pleased the Prince. He smiled and said,
'She's prettier without her head.'
Then up came Sister Number Two,
Who yelled, 'Now I will try the shoe!'
'Try this instead!' the Prince yelled back.
He swung his trusty sword and smack
Her head went crashing to the ground.
It bounced a bit and rolled around.
In the kitchen, peeling spuds,
Cinderella heard the thuds
Of bouncing heads upon the floor,
And poked her own head round the door.
'What's all the racket? 'Cindy cried.
'Mind your own bizz,' the Prince replied.
Poor Cindy's heart was torn to shreds.
My Prince! she thought. He chops off heads!
How could I marry anyone
Who does that sort of thing for fun?

The Prince cried, 'Who's this dirty slut?
'Off with her nut! Off with her nut!'
Just then, all in a blaze of light,
The Magic Fairy hove in sight,
Her Magic Wand went swoosh and swish!
'Cindy! 'she cried, 'come make a wish!
'Wish anything and have no doubt
'That I will make it come about!'
Cindy answered, 'Oh kind Fairy,
'This time I shall be more wary.
'No more Princes, no more money.
'I have had my taste of honey.
I'm wishing for a decent man.
'They're hard to find. D'you think you can?'
Within a minute, Cinderella
Was married to a lovely feller,
A simple jam maker by trade,
Who sold good home-made marmalade.
Their house was filled with smiles and laughter
And they were happy ever after.

Mirror - by Sylvia Plath

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful ‚
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

If I could write words - by Spike Milligan

If I could write words
Like leaves on an autumn forest floor,
What a bonfire my letters would make.

If I could speak words of water,
You would drown when I said
"I love you."

Himself - by Alice Guerin Crist

Last night, when I was listenin’
Alone, to wind and rain,
He took the chair beside me,
Himself - come home again.

His kind blue eyes were smilin’
Beneath his thatch of grey,
He laid his hand on my hand,
The ould sweetheartin’ way.

I pressed my cheek upon it,
Remembering bitterly
The times he faced his daily toil
Without one smile from me.

And yet, his meals were always good,
His clothes well kept and clean,
The neighbours, sure, will tell you,
The splendid wife I’ve been.

But in Life’s stress and struggle,
We somehow, grew apart,
You know these Irish mothers,
'Tis “the childer” has their heart.

And he grew grim, and close-lipped,
And harder, day by day,
Poor man - too tired for laughter,
Too worried to be gay.

But - how his care enclosed us,
For all he was so grim,
The very rafters of our home
Were cut and laid by him.

And I, that might have cheered him,
The bitter words I said,
Oh! God, that we remember,
Only when they are dead.

But now - my arms were round him,
The room seemed full of flowers,
And Youth came back and sunshine,
That glorious time was ours.

The firelight flamed and flickered,
The embers fell apart,
I woke to empty silence,
With sorrow at my heart.

The wild winds brought the morning,
The dawn was red and chill,
And Himself was lyin’ sleepin’
In the graveyard on the hill!

The Man from Snowy River -by A B 'Banjo' Paterson

There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.

There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up —
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle girths would stand,
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast;
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony — three parts thoroughbred at least —
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry — just the sort that won't say die —
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, "That horse will never do
For a long and tiring gallop - lad, you'd better stop away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you."
So he waited sad and wistful — only Clancy stood his friend —
"I think we ought to let him come," he said;
"I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred."

"He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen."

So he went; they found the horses by the big mimosa clump,
They raced away towards the mountain's brow,
And the old man gave his orders, "Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills."

So Clancy rode to wheel them — he was racing on the wing
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
And he raced his stockhorse past them, and he made the ranges ring
With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back
From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way,
Were mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, "We may bid the mob good day,
No man can hold them down the other side."

When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull -
It well might make the boldest hold their breath;
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.

He sent the flint-stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
He cleared the fallen timbers in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat —
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent.

He was right among the horses as they climbed the farther hill
And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely; he was right among them still,
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.
Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
In the ranges - but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.
He followed like a bloodhound on their track,
Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around the Overflow the reed -beds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The man from Snowy River is a household word today,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

Impact of Global Recession on Indian Market

The recession in the US market and the global meltdown termed as Global recession have engulfed complete world ecomony with a varying degree of recessional impact. World over the impact has diversified and its impact can be observed from the very fact of falling Stock market, recession in jobs availiability and companies following downsizaing in the existing available staff and cutting down of the perks and salary corrections. Globally the financial sector sacking the existing base of employees in high numbers in US the major example being CITI Group same still followed by others in hospitality industry Jet and Kingfisher Airlines too. The cut in salary for the pilots being 90 % can any one imagine such a huge cut in salary.

In the globalized market scenario, the impact of recession at one place/ indusrty/ sector perculate down to all the linked indusrty and this can be truly interpreated from the current market situation which is faced by the world since approx 2 month and still the situation is not in control inspite of various measures taken to fight back the recession in the market.The badly hit setor at present being the financial sector, and major issue being the "LIQUIDITY Crises" in the market.

In-spite of the various measures to subsidise the impact of the recession and cut down the inflation present nothing really sound have been done.

Various steps taken by RBI to curb the present recession in the economy and counter act the prevailing situation.
The sudden drying-up of capital inflows from the FDI which were invested in Indian stock markets for greater returns vizualizing the Potential Higher Returns flying back is continuing to challenge liquidity management.At the heart of the current liquidity tightening is the balance of payments deficit, and this NRI deposit move should help in some small way.

To curb the liquidity crises the RBI will continue to initiate liquidity measures as long as the current unusually tight domestic liquidity environment prevails. The current step to curb these being lowering of interest rates and reduction of PLR.However, the big-picture story remains unchanged – all countries in the world with current account deficits and strong credit cycles are finding it difficult to bring cost of capital down in the current environment. India is no different. New measures do not change our view on the growth outlook. Indeed, we remain concerned about the banking sector and financial sector. The BOP- Balance of Payment deficit – at a time when domestic credit demand is very high – is resulting in a vicious loop of reduced access to liquidity, slowing growth, and increased risk-aversion in the financial system.

In total the recession have turned down the growth process and have set the minds of economists and others for finding out the real solution to sustain the economic growth and stability of the market which is desired for the smooth running of the economy.

Complete businesss/ industry is in dolledrum situation and this situation persist for a longer duration will create the small business to vanish as they have lower stability and to run smoothly require continous flow of liquidity which is drived from the market.

In present situation down fall in one sector one day leads to a negative impact on the other sector thus alltogether everyone feel the impact of the Financial crises with the result of the current recession which started in US and slowly and gradually due to linked global world have impacted everyone.

Solution for the problem still remain at the top of the mind of every one, still everyone facing the impact of recession but how long is the major question which is of great importance.

A Rose by any other name

From the moment she was born, Rose’s mother had taught her little daughter to be different from all the other skunks that lived in the woods. She bathed her in fragrant rose water, put her to bed on soft rose petals and fed her mashed rose hips sprinkled with fresh rosemary. She didn’t want her to be stinky like all the other skunks, which ate things like skunk cabbage, stink weed and stinkbugs. She wanted her little Rose to be sweet.

When Rose grew up she was still very different from all the other skunks. She still bathed in rosewater, slept on a bed of pink rose petals and ate only the finest rosehips. She drank sparkling rose water from rose-colored glasses. Her furniture was made of rosewood and she had a beautiful rose garden just outside her back door. Everything she did, smelled, and tasted was like roses, even her toothpaste, shampoo and deodorant.

Never would she spray, unless the spray was from a bottle labeled ‘Rose Perfume’. The other skunks were always spraying their foul odor for any old reason, so it seemed to Rose.

One day, Rose went out into her garden to pick some fresh rose hips. She was just about to reach for one when she heard a loud roar. She stopped for a moment to listen, but when she didn’t hear anything else she continued picking. Another loud roar came from somewhere behind her in the distance. What was that? What was making that noise? Rose wondered what it was. Not hearing another roar for a while, she soon stopped thinking about it and picked a few more rose hips, putting them into the basket she’d taken out with her.

Then she heard a noise coming from behind her and slowly turned around. There, before her, stood a big striped hyena. It let out a loud roar that blew Rose’s tail back and forth. She reached into the pocket of her rose-patterned apron and pulled out a bottle of rose-scented perfume. She aimed it at the hyena and sprayed. The hyena sniffed the air and began to laugh at Rose. He laughed and laughed. Rose got very angry and sprayed him again. He only laughed harder.

After a while, the hyena stopped. He hit the bottle of perfume out of Rose’s hand and knocked the basket of rose hips over. Rose began to get scared. The hyena wasn’t laughing anymore. It was angry and growled at her. She didn’t know what to do. The hyena moved closer and closer to her. Rose grabbed her tail and sprayed the hyena. This time he didn’t laugh. He let out a loud scream and ran off into the woods.

Rose could smell the foul odor all around her. She didn’t like it. She grabbed the perfume bottle and sprayed, and sprayed, and sprayed, until the whole bottle of rose perfume was gone. She gathered her basket of rose hips and went home. That night, as she lay in the bathtub, soaking in bubbly rose water, she thought about how much she still loved roses, but maybe from then on she’d eat a stinkbug or two once in a while, just in case!

---

New ebook

 Recession-Proof Your Career

Today, I’m thrilled to unveil a free 30-page ebook for anyone who wants to recession-proof their career.


If you’re a recent college graduate, you’re probably struggling with finding a decent job in this down economy. In fact, it’s tough for anyone right now. Just like with personal finance, most of us will shrug our shoulders, accept the circumstances, and assume there’s nothing we can do but wait out the storm (and complain about taxes).

Stop complaining and start dominating

The reality is that it’s actually possible to improve your personal situation and get the job of your dreams, within a year of college. My friend Charlie Hoehn was able to do exactly that, and I asked him to write an ebook on how he did it. I’m putting it up here for you because it’s one of the better things you can read during this recession.
The ebook contains the techniques he used to guarantee himself any kind of work he wants over the next decade — pretty cool since he’s continuing to work with me on several new projects. And as an added bonus, I’ve included a short video of Tim Ferriss and me discussing how Charlie approached us, and why his technique was especially effective.

How Charlie made the approach

Rewind to about a year ago, when I got an email from somebody named Charlie Hoehn. He’d recently graduated from college and wanted my help to work with Tim Ferriss. He mentioned that he had some feedback for “I Will Teach You To Be Rich,” and in a followup email, he sent me several details. It ended like this:

How I can help you: The answer to this is something I’ve struggled to come up with for both you and Tim Ferriss….shooting/editing video, and creating niche social networks…

Only a few months later, I left this LinkedIn testimonial for Charlie:

“Charlie is one of the most talented marketers and entrepreneurs I’ve ever worked with. First, some of the results he helped drive:
* He was one of the chief strategists to make my book, I Will Teach You To Be Rich, a New York Times bestseller, Wall Street Journal bestseller, and #1 Amazon bestseller
* Wrote scripts, filmed, and edited comedy videos that were collectively seen over 80,000 times
* Managed a team that created several new innovative strategies for book marketing
More importantly, Charlie understands the importance of blending strategy with rapid tactics. I feel comfortable calling him, giving him a high-level idea, and asking him to come back to me in 48 hours with a proposal for how to implement it. In fact, after working together, he now suggests ideas to me, then implements them completely on his own. He’s resourceful (he’ll take a high-level idea and flesh out every detail/resource needed to dominate it), detail-oriented (he edited our videos even further when I thought they were good enough), and versatile enough to create marketing strategies and write comedy videos. A true gem. I highly recommend him.”

How did Charlie do it? How did Charlie end up working with  Tim Ferriss, Tucker Max, and several other popular personalities?

check in this You Tube .Informative and must watch
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u5N-dcQ7QZI

 

Behind the scenes: 3 case studies about money that will make you laugh, cry, & vomit

I’m fortunate to hear a lot of interesting (and very personal) money stories, most of which cause me to either burst into a radiant smile or threaten immediate suicide.
Today, I want to pull back the curtain to tell you about 3 people I’ve heard from in the last few days.

• A 32-year-old woman who just discovered she’s been paying unnecessary fees to her financial “advisor” for the last 13 years
• A 40-something female surgeon who makes $500,000/year but isn’t sure what to do with her money
• A 24-year-old guy who negotiated $200 back with one phone call

At the bottom of each profile, I’ve added a “lessons learned” section.

#1: “Am I really allowed to ask what his commission is?”

Over the weekend, I was out for drinks with some friends and ended up sitting next to this girl who, once she heard what I do, started asking money questions. It turns out that she was very interested in investing, and had actually just bought a condo in San Francisco (with a $500 monthly HOA fee). You probably already know my thoughts on real estate as an investment, so I just kept quiet.
But then she mentioned that she’d also been investing in life insurance, and I started choking on my drink. Why does a 32-year-old with no dependents need life insurance, much less as an “investment”? But it gets worse. I found out she’d “locked up the money”…for the last 13 years. I almost had to stop myself from shaving down my tortilla chips to the fine point of a shiv and stabbing myself in the throat.
I tried to play it cool but she asked me, point-blank, “What do you think? Don’t sugar-coat it.” So I told her that her “advisor” was probably making a fat commission off her, and there’s virtually no reason for someone in her financial situation to be investing in life insurance. (I didn’t mention the condo — not much she could do about that now.)
She was receptive. And she was concerned that she was being taken advantage of. “I only call my advisor once a year,” she said. “And I’ve gotten my entire family into life insurance since that’s what he recommended to me.”
So I told her to go ask her broker what his commissions are — how he makes money — and why he chose life insurance for her. Maybe there was a legitimate reason, although I doubted it. She looked at me and said, “Am I really allowed to ask what his commission is?” Don’t you guys find that interesting? “Of course,” I said. “He works for you, and he’s probably making money off your money. You have the right to know.” She said, “Oh, okay. Because if someone asked me what my profit margins were, I wouldn’t tell them.”
Good point. But if you’re using a commission-based advisor (which you shouldn’t), you have the right to know. And you have the right to put your money in a more appropriate investment than life insurance for a young woman, larded up with unnecessary fees.
Lessons learned

• Don’t dismiss this girl as stupid. She actually got engaged with her money, which is more than most people do. Unfortunately, she didn’t do her research and probably got taken advantage of by an unscrupulous advisor. Ironically, even though she got sub-optimal returns (and made a questionable real-estate “investment”), she’s better off than the vast majority of people in this country who never pay attention to their finances at all. She can get this back on track. And she’s already shown the initiative to take action
• Her investment probably did fine — it just could have done better without the fees. Costs matter
• Evaluate your investments and major expenditures each month. Chances are you’re getting ripped off somewhere. I have a super-detailed script on calls to make once/year as one of my Scrooge Strategy tips

#2: “Well, I made $500,000 last year…”

I was in Lake Tahoe a few weeks ago kayaking with a group (yes, some bloggers leave their room) and a woman came up next to me on the water. She had heard me speak and had no idea what to do with her money. She really caught my attention with this exchange.

Her: “The thing is, I earned a LOT of money last year, but it’s just sitting in the bank.
Me: “How much are we talking about, ballpark?”
Her: “I earned $500,000 last year. And I have $200,000 just sitting in a bank account.”
Me: (Stops rowing)

It’s totally fascinating to meet a woman who’s supremely alpha in one area but has no idea what to do in another. She was in her 40s, single, and a surgeon. She was considering buying a house (”for the tax deduction”…one of the few times this might actually make sense) but also because she didn’t know anything else about investing.
We started talking about other business stuff and a few minutes later she asked me, “What’s your consulting rate?” I told her and, without blinking, she said, “Can you just take care of my money? I can pay you.” Now, I charge a ridiculous amount for consulting, so the fact that she didn’t even FLINCH when I told her my rate was really surprising — and tempting.
But no, I told her. “I don’t do portfolio management. I rarely say this, but you should really talk to a financial advisor. You can find a good, fee-only advisor at http://www.napfa.org/ or I can recommend one by email.”
Why did I recommend a financial advisor for her and not the earlier woman? Because in my book, I mention there are only a few categories of people who generally should use financial advisors in the 20-35 year-old range (typically people who are earning a tremendous amount, need more sophisticated money-management strategies, and are too busy to do this on their own.) Not only does this woman fit the description by being busy and very successful, she’s older and likely won’t do anything without someone helping her.
I’m thrilled to tell you that she’s started to take control of her money. But the lessons learned with this woman are very interesting.
Lessons learned

• A high income solves most financial problems. People don’t like to hear this because they like to judge people’s financial behavior, but it’s true. Yes, she’s in her 40s. Yes, she missed the prime time of her life to invest and compound her growth. But at $500,000 per year, she can catch up quickly and have a very good quality of life
• Paying for value is a sign of successful people. She caught me off guard when she offered to hire me as a consultant, but when I was thinking about it later, it didn’t surprise me. Most of the successful people I know are willing to pay for value. They pay for training courses and understand that you can’t out-frugal your way to being rich — you sometimes have to spend money to earn money. Compare this philosophy to people who believe there’s only a limited amount of money (and they have to protect theirs) or people who expect everything to be free. Though she hadn’t started investing, the fact that she’s she’s dominated her career and is willing to pay a significant amount of money to handle her money — and she falls into a category of really busy professionals who could benefit from a fee-based advisor — means can quickly ramp up on the financial side

#3: “I was charged with $200 in overdraft fees”

David Howe, 24, emailed me from D.C.

“I made a mistake in my checking account, I thought I had transferred money to cover pending transactions but I didn’t “confirm” the transfer. I was charged with $200 in overdraft fees.
I called the bank using your template, and I think there were 3 consecutive lines you suggested in your book.
After the first line she credited me $70.
After the second line she credited me $105. I repeated the second line again almost verbatim and she credit me $120.
Then I used the third line, $150, the third again $200.
The funniest part was she responded to every line almost in the exact way you said she would in the book!! I just found it comical (and I’m very glad to have the $200 back!) Maybe I’ll use it to open a Roth IRA…”

Lessons learned

• My negotiation tips are fucking awesome. I literally have hundreds and hundreds of people who have negotiated significant amounts back from banks (here are just a few). If you don’t have my book, buy it now — there is a lot of completely new stuff you’ve never seen in there. Order I Will Teach You To Be Rich (includes negotiation scripts and a 6-week plan to dominate your finances)
• David knew to negotiate like an Indian — meaning he recognized that he has more control in his relationships with companies. While many people simply sit back and take it, he called them and got $200 back within a few minutes. Once you do this with one company, you realize how much power you have to do it with many companies.

Hope you guys enjoyed these profiles. I’m always hearing interesting money stories, so if you like these, I’ll try to share more of them.

Stereotypical Truths

Question: Why do we refer to the natural world as mother nature and the progression of moments father time?

Well I happen to think that the reason is obvious, but let's break it down into irrefutable truths.
Mother nature is unpredictable; it is so complex the most intricate computer models can only estimate what will happen next. Women are unpredictable. Women tell you one thing and do another. They will bad mouth a person, and then later want to date them.

Mother nature is inconsistent. The conditions can change century to century, year to year, day to day, and moment to moment. Women want the couch by the window, no next to the corner table, no blocking the door, no in front of the fire place, no behind the coffee table, no next to the recliner, nope I was right the first time by the window; wait I want a new couch. Women want attention, I mean to be left alone. They will push you away when they want to get close. They will waste an entire day because they're not sure if egg shell or off white would look better with their navy blue dress.

Mother nature has warming and cooling trends and menopausal women get hot flashes. I don't even know what they are but it sounds like the same thing.

Mother nature will lull you to sleep and then hit you with furious disaster, kill the innocent, displace the poor, and amplify problems. Do I even need to continue.

Time is steady, un-faltering, consistent, and so predictable anybody with a cesium atom and the means to test the half-life can track the progression. A man is these things, well maybe not exactly, but a hell of a lot more so than a woman.

Anything to add Tricky?

The First

Question: If you saw something never seen before how would you react?

Tricky what do you think the parents of the first child with tourette's syndrome thought? I bet they beat the shit out of that kid. I bet that kid nearly died of soap posioning. I bet he spent the majority of his life in confinement, behind bars, or recovering from the beating he took the day before. I read that a symptom or common tic experienced by people with tourette's is self inflicting pain such as eye poking. I don't imagine thats good. I've got to say involentary cursing sounds fucking made up.

Pluto versus Goofy

Why does Disney has a double standard?

So correct me if I'm wrong, but both Pluto and Goofy are dogs. Then why the hell is Pluto held the limitations of a traditional dog and Goofy has evolved into a two legged creature with an advanced handle on language, and dress code.

Another question: why doesn't Donald wear pants? He wears a shirt and sometimes a hat. And don't give me that shit he's a duck. If he's a duck then why does he wear a towel when he gets out of the shower?

Another question: how does Disney get away with holding anniversaries every year all year. I thought that saying that every day is special is like saying none of them are.

Another question: Which had the bigger impact on modern life? Roller skates or LSD?

Ok, I'm done. I digressed too far as it is...

GETTING CLOSER :A LOVE FOR BUBBLES

"But what will you take for her?” Nitin asked me. He seemed almost as anxious as I was on this occasion. Okay, so that’s what friends were for… but right now he was not helping me at all.What would I take for her? The instant answer was “Myself” but I thought it was safer not to say anything. Nitin was the earnest type and he would not like me making light of the situation. The situation? My planning to propose to Richa. Big momentous occasion on the cards. All planned by the small guy.Did I say ‘small’? I didn’t feel that small. I felt like I owned the world. After all, Richa was almost mine, so to speak. And who wouldn’t be happy with a girl like that. She was everything I wanted in someone I was willing to spend the rest of my life with. She was fun, witty, charming and the best part was she understood me. Well, over the last couple of months, I too was faintly beginning to understand her. Nitin’s verdict of Richa being a 'good girl' notwithstanding, I knew there were many times when I could have torn my gelled hair in despair trying to figure out what was it she wanted to say when she clammed up and said, “Nothing”.

There were times when all she wanted to do was tell me about her day. Which was fine as long as she did not ask me about mine. I mean work was work, what else did one say about it. Then there was a time when she picked up a bottle of bubble liquid from a man selling balloons on the road. “Grow up”, I told her laughing, yet somewhat embarrassed. People on the street were staring at us, though they were all smiling indulgently at her. “ Why should I?” was her quick rejoinder. I had, as usual, no answer to that as a bubble settled on my nose. But over time, I think I can understand her. No, maybe I understand myself better. I had not told Richa, but across several issues of Reader’s Digest, I had been getting insights into relationships. And into our relationship. I now know for a fact that we are definitely different.I know that I need to lend her a listening ear time and again. She simply wants to be heard. And I have told her that I really do not need to share every office issue with her.

I know that when she gives me space to have my night out with the boys, she is expecting that one-minute phone call to say that I still think of her. Easier said than done when you are in the middle of a heated football discussion, but I can do it now. “So what are you going to get her” interjected Nitin into my thoughts. “Do you know what I suggest?” I smiled. I didn’t want to know. This momentous occasion would be ours. Richa’s and mine. I was going to propose to her. The setting would be perfect. And I was going to take a bottle of bubble liquid for her.

Oil on canvas

Oil on canvas by Surendra Jagtap (2004), 152 x 122 cms

Surendra Jagtap did not title this work, but the 39-year-old Mumbai professor of art could as well have called it "Togetherness." His bold, flat colours and sparse detail, all of which help draw attention to his message, can identify Jagtap's style. Here it's the energy of the opposite sex, symbolized by the white flower and the Shiva Linga, that men and women must strive for and imbibe from each other in order to move ahead harmoniously.

Golden Deer

“Golden Deer” by Ratan Banerjee, 91 x 107 cm, acrylic on canvas, 2007

It may surprise you, but it is modern life that 59-year-old Kolkata artist Ratan Banerjee expresses through this pastoral, almost sentimental painting. “The deer symbolizes the ever-increasing pace of our daily lives,” says Banerjee. “Chase it and it runs even faster. But a stationary, golden deer staring back at us ought to make us slow down and think.”

Portrait of a Lady

"Portrait of a Lady" by Rama Varma, Oil on canvas, 1964.

Rama Varma (1879 - 1970) of Mavelikara, Kerala, painted several realistic portraits like this one. In his youth Rama was apprenticed to his father Raja Ravi Varma, and soon became a noted painter in his own right. In this moving portrait of one of his relatives, Rama Varma, like his father, is perfect in his execution of gold, fabric and costume. As far as the lady's demeanour and characterization are concerned, this little-known work—which used to be displayed in the artist's Mavelikara home—is remarkably different from a Ravi Varma portrait.

Violinist

“Violinist” by G. Subramanian, mixed media on canvas, 60.96 x 66.04 cm, 2007

G. Subramanian, 56, is a Bangalore-based artist who uses collage and paint to create charming works like this one. Part of his ‘She’ series which features young women the violinist, with her eyes closed, is in deep concentration. Look closer and you will discover that her face is “painted” using a landscape cut out from a National Geographic magazine, Subramanian’s favourite source for pictures.

Still-Life With Idol

“Still-Life With Idol” by Prabhakar Raobail, acrylic on paper, 38 x 28 cm, 2004

Dharwad-based cartoonist and painter Prabhakar Raobail, 71, filled an imaginary tabletop with diverse objects—among them a Hanuman, a memory of one of his temple expeditions. The still-life is unusual because part of it is landscape: The palms and boats in the background are reminiscent of Mangalore, where Raobail grew up.

Laxmi

“Laxmi” by Shankar L. Devarukhe, oil on canvas, 122 x 152 cm, 2008.

Laxmi has been popular with painters ever since Raja Ravi Varma first painted her from his imagination in the 19th century. Here, Pune-based Shankar Devarukhe, 29, used a schoolgirl from his neighbourhood as the model for this significantly childlike version of Laxmi. The pot on Laxmi’s lap is so tilted that the gold coins within flow out generously. Laxmi puja is observed this month.

Camels

“Camels” by Amrita Sher-Gil, oil on canvas, 100 x 75 cm, 1937.

Amrita Sher-Gil (1913-1941) usually focused on people in her paintings, so this work is rather unusual. It was painted when Amrita was 24, three years after her return to India from Europe where she trained as a painter. This painting can be seen at New Delhi's National Gallery of Modern Art, along with several other major works by the artist.

Buddha and The Swan

“Buddha and The Swan” by Ajay De, Charcoal and Acrylic on Paper, 102 x 51 cm, 2008.

Ajay De’s style can be recognized from his use of charcoal with highlights of red and blue paint. This work, from De’s latest “Buddha” series, depicts the story of how Siddhartha Gautama, prince of Kapilavastu—who became Buddha—saved a swan wounded by his cousin Devadatta’s arrow. Kolkata-trained De holds his 21st solo show at Delhi’s India Habitat Centre this month.

Virat

“Virat” by Kisalay Vora, mixed media on canvas, 122 x 153 cm, 2006.

After Kisalay Vora graduated from Sir J.J. School of Art, Mumbai, he went from designing advertisements to doing public art and murals before taking to canvas. In this work, Vora, 38, reminds us of the giant energies of the universe that, in his own words, “mock measurement and defy description.” Even so, he adds, “there’s every individual’s minuscule yet significant contribution to the scheme of things.

Untitled oil on canvas

Untitled oil on canvas by Manjit Bawa, 22 x 79 cms, 2005.

“Manjit would drive to distant countrysides,” says Delhi-based curator Ina Puri, who is also the artist’s biographer. “He’d then return to his studios, in Delhi and Dalhousie, to work.” Strange, often mythical, goats, bulls, lions and people appear in his canvases—always characterized by strong, flat backgrounds and his focus on an individual, be it man or beast. This painting is from Bawa’s last exhibition in 2005 when his creativity was at its peak. Bawa slipped into a long coma soon after the show and passed away on 29 December last year. He was 67.

Arrows-17

“Arrows-17” by Aparna Anil, mixed media on canvas, 76 x 56 cm, 2000

For Aparna Anil of Gwalior her arrow-like kites are a representation of energy and direction. The energy of the red kites, clear from their zigzagging tails, are contrasted with the powerless, falling grey ones in the background. “Likewise, energetic beings seek freedom and go far,” says Aparna. Kites are a common feature for Makar Sankranti this month. In Ahmedabad, there is the spectacular annual international kite festival from January 10 to 14.

PRIEST

"PRIEST" by Vijay N. Seth, pastels on papers, 31 x 38 cms, 1999.

A graduate of Mumbai’s Sir JJ School of Art, Vijay Narain Seth, known by his acronym Vins, has been a freelance cartoonist and illustrator for well over four decades, drawing for various publications in India and abroad, including Reader’s Digest. This work is from a series of drawings he executed after being inspired by the Brahmins he observed at various temples in Andhra. “Their unique expressions and demeanour took me straight to my drawing board,” says Vins, who turns 65 this month.

Chugalkhor

“Chugalkhor” by Ram Jaiswal, watercolour on paper, 58 x 36 cms, 2004

The Bengal School wash technique used here is Ram Jaiswal’s prefered style. “The women in my paintings symbolize emotions,” says the Ajmer-based painter. Apparently, the emotion here—mischief—is unusual for any painting. “The lady, dressed in traditional Rajasthani garb, is listening to some ‘a little bird told me’ bits about her husband,” explains Jaiswal. The Hindi chugalkhor of the title translates roughly as gossipmonger. Jaiswal, 71, studied art in Lucknow.

Edges

“Edges” by Kailas Hyalij, acrylic on canvas, 42 x 42 cms, 2009

Inspiration for landscape painter Kailas Hyalij lies right in his backyard—the varied colours of the wilderness that surrounds his hometown of Nashik, Maharashtra. To those he adds his own imagination for a touch of the surreal. The base black in this recent work represents the Deccan soil, but the dominating red is his own. “I walk in the countryside to be alone with nature,” says the 37-year-old artist, “to observe its changing colours and patterns.

“Managing Them, We Manage”

“Managing Them, We Manage” by Dr Gopal Nene, gouache-tempera on paper, 69 x 89 cms

Mumbai physician Gopal Nene is also a self-taught artist who uses his childlike art naïve style to highlight social issues. Here, he vividly depicts the goings on at a dilapidated housing complex, where developers get resident-tenants to move out and languish in transit camps. The seated man wearing white is a builder, who has come for the tenants’ signatures. Dr Nene has also provided some irony—by including the emblems of some political parties as well as the skull-and-bones, symbolizing the dangerous condition of the buildings

Living -Studio

“Matrix” by Lalit Jain, oil on canvas, 100 x 84 cms, 2009

Lalit Jain, who studied at Mumbai’s Sir JJ School of Art, was Chief Artist with the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI). He drew ruins and excavation sites with absolute realism by day. By night, he’d paint abstract forms from his mind’s eye. The 75-year-old artist, now long retired from the ASI, lives in New Delhi and is especially inspired by the feminine form and the mysteries of life. “My brush strokes are never calculated,”
says Jain. “Deep down, a force takes over when I paint.

GETTING CLOSER - The Ties That Bind...

“Here, take this tie.”
I paled. It was one of those days when we had no meetings scheduled and I thought that the strangling neck gear in the heat could be done away with. But here was my boss handing me a tie.
“But…” I stammered.
He cut me off. “You have an appointment at 2.
I will speak about it later. Come back to my office in about 30 minutes. I have some important calls to make.”

That was Mr. Rajan, my immediate senior for you. Curt, to-the-point, no-nonsense. I, of course, knew him as a man with a heart of gold.

This was my first job and over the past three years I had come to, silently of course, regard him as my mentor. He had, in his own brusque, business-like manner, taught me everything I needed to know to ensure a smooth transition from college to career. A bit like ‘what they don’t teach you at Harvard’. I really appreciated that.
One promotion down the line and I thought I was settled. This was the job that I wanted all my life. I was doing well. Life was good. And I saw opportunity for growth within the organisation provided I worked hard.
Mr. Rajan, of course, believed in working smart. Well, ok, I thought I was smart enough to stay here without jeopardising my career prospects in this small but growing organisation.

At times Mr. Rajan, in his subtle manner, talked about complacency and the need for change to ensure growth. I was not so sure.

We always had an argument about the comfort zone at work. He felt true growth came from change. Words, just words, I thought. But then, they lingered at the back of my mind. Half hour up, and I gently knocked on Mr. Rajan’s door. The tie definitely needed an explanation. He looked up from his desktop, over his gold-rimmed reading glasses and said casually, “It’s an interview. I’ve instructed Janice to update and print out two copies of your resume. Your application was already sent last week.” Stunned, I stammered, the second time in the day, “But…”

He continued, “You need the change. And this is as good an opportunity as it gets. I don’t think the interview should be a problem. Provided of course, you reach there on time.”

I stood there speechless. Interview? But I had not asked for it. Then why had he done it? What did I know about interviews? My last one was when I joined this place. I had grown since then. A result of a lot of things. Hard work. Constant updates. My boss. And of course, my reading habit. In fact, the other day, I had chanced to read an article in the Reader’s Digest giving tips on interviews. Great! They would come in handy this time.

Mr. Rajan looked up again. “Oh yes, remember in any interview once if you really are what they are looking for, the final clincher is honesty. Now if you will allow me, I have this report for the CFO that I need to concentrate on.”

I stumbled out. The rest of the day went in a blur. Janice handed me my resume on an alabaster sheet. Along with that was a glowing recommendation letter from Mr. Rajan. I knew all the right things to say at the interview. Till they asked me what was the one thing I would miss about my earlier workplace if I chose to join them. Honesty. The word popped up in my mind again.

“My boss.” I said, “he has been my friend, philosopher and guide, and I appreciate all that I have learnt from him over these years”. I got the job.

Now I was excited about the change. I was taking one more step towards growing in my career. When I called Mr. Rajan, I thanked him profusely. “Sir” I said tentatively, “how can I ever thank you for what you’ve done?" He simply said, “Could I have my tie back?"

Bicycle Santa .( For A Cause )

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It’s a hot summer morning in Maharashtra’s Jhadpoli village, a hundred kilometres north of Mumbai. Manoj Bumbe, a 5th standard student, rides barefoot down a mud road, pedalling furiously on his yellow bicycle. In contrast to the grimy little boy, the bicycle looks shiny new, although it isn’t. What matters is that Manoj can now ride the distance to his school in Alonde, two kilometres from his home. Before he got the bike, he had to walk for almost two hours every day.

Manoj swerves to avoid a brood of chickens that scuttle into his path from the house where 17-year-old Renuka Vishwa Nemale lives. A shy soft-spoken 10th-standard student, she too has a cycle now, a red one. “Walking to school was tiring. Sometimes I reached late and had to stand outside till the class ended,” Renuka recalls. “Some days I even missed school to avoid the long walk. But ever since I got my bike, I’ve found more time to prepare for my SSC exams.”

Renuka and Manoj, like a few dozen other children in Jhadpoli, were given free bicycles through a voluntary scheme started last year by Hemant Chhabra, a friendly 47-year-old Mumbai businessman who simply calls it The Bicycle Project. The bikes were all disused or rusted old ones that privileged city kids in Mumbai had discarded. Chhabra gets them meticulously repaired and painted before giving them away.

Chhabra started this project with his wife Sangeeta and Simona Terron, a journalist friend. A college dropout, Chhabra tried his luck at several businesses, including leather export and children’s camps, before settling down as a manufacturer of eco-friendly bags a decade ago. He also took frequent breaks to visit his organic farm in Jhadpoli where he grows fruits and vegetables. During one such trip last year, while waiting at the village bus stop Chhabra watched kids walking to school in the rain, and his mind raced back to his own childhood. Years ago, Father used to tell me how difficult it used to be for him to walk for hours to his school, he remembered. But why do children need to do this today?

Chhabra’s farming experience had taught him that almost anything could be recycled. “So it bothered me when I saw bicycles lying unused for years around residential buildings in Mumbai,” he says, “and as I watched those village children trudge to school, I saw a connection.” Helping people isn’t something new for Hemant Chhabra. As a youngster, he used to hitch rides to college. One kind gentleman actually started waiting for Chhabra everyday to give him a lift on his motorbike. When in Jhadpoli, Chhabra pays forward that gesture by filling his car with villagers going to market.

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With Simona’s help, in October last year, Chhabra drafted an e-mail requesting people to donate their old bicycles to village kids for whom, they wrote, “going to school is the most important thing and which is why no distance is too long… and missing school is not an option.” The e-mail was sent to everyone in their address books from where it kept getting forwarded to friends and friends of friends.

The response was amazing. Thanks also to Simona’s media contacts and a few articles she got published in Mumbai newspapers, by January, Chhabra received cash donations and 68 bicycles. Chhabra’s offer to give these bicycles to schoolchildren was welcomed at Sri Binoi Gardi Swajan Vidyalaya, the school that Manoj and Renuka attend.

But there was still much to be done. First, the bikes had to be collected from the donors at a date and time convenient to each of them—and that took a month. “Even my transport contractor backed out after seeing how tiresome it was to collect bicycles from different parts of the city,” sighs Chhabra. “I then managed to take days off work because of the recession and the sharp drop in orders for my bags, picked up the bicycles myself, hauling them down the staircases of multi-storey buildings and getting them to where I live.”

That wasn’t all. These kids aren’t begging for charity, so the least we can do is treat them with respect, thought Chhabra. Those bikes had to be as good as new. Using the cash donations, Chhabra got each bike repaired and repainted, their worn-out parts replaced. All this was done at a neighbourhood repair shop owned by one Nazim who proved to be “an honest ally,” as Chhabra describes him. At first Nazim thought this would be too much to handle, but when Chhabra told him about the project, the young man was thrilled because it would help schoolkids somewhere. “I have a little brother in school,” Nazim told Chhabra, “and how I want him to get a good education!” Nazim manages all repairs for Chhabra after his regular hours at a subsidized rate.

Meanwhile, that school in Alonde with 900 students soon shortlisted 137 of them for Chhabra’s bikes. But with only 68 refurbished bikes, he had to make tough decisions. Chhabra picked the ones who walked the furthest. He also considered their class performance and attendance records before deciding on who would be given bikes on Republic Day. “The other 69 children will also get bikes as soon as possible,” promised Chhabra.

The Bicycle Project has grown quickly and Chhabra reveals that there are now about 300 bikes waiting to be picked up from various Mumbai families. Meanwhile, the project is also taking root in Delhi and Pune with bike collection centres coming up in those cities as well. A few volunteers have come forward to help. “Soon the children in villages around Pune and Delhi too will receive bicycles,” says Chhabra.

“I felt a real sense of joy when I went back to Jhadpoli recently and watched some of those children pedalling to school,” beams Hemant Chhabra. “You know, a few of them have even grown taller since they got their bikes.”

If you wish to help The Bicycle Project, call Hemant Chhabra on 9820149022 or e-mail: donate@thebicycleproject.in