WILD LIFE

Welcome to Warrier's Daily COLLAGE Wild Life https://youtu.be/xepGKEcQpNk (Animated short Video) January 27, 2021 Wednesday 🙏 M G Warrier A Interaction K Ramasubramanian Mumbai Namajabam is the easiest form of Bhakti . Bhakthi is elevating once mind and thoughts to the holy feet of the Lord. Namajabham facilitates this . Om namashivaya is not difficult to chant nor any difficulty in understanding the meaning. Chant as much as we can at any convenient time at any place. There is no limit. Rainfall however small it is can help grow such millets may be instead of paddy. The size does not matter when mind is thinking of the superpower only. Practice and elevate to God’s feet (Here's a 2013 Speaking Tree Blog: "Magic of music and mantras" https://www.speakingtree.in/blog/magic-of-music-and-mantras/m-lite May be repeat for some 🙏-Warrier) AA Current Affairs "Dilli Chalo': The Pulse of Those That Feed the Nation | Economic and Political Weekly" https://www.epw.in/engage/article/dilli-chalo-pulse-those-feed-nation What's at stake? This week Collage will give a link a day on this subject. Without comments/responses. Issues involved are deeper than what media is telling us. B WILD LIFE 1) Wild Life Literature The Literature of Wildlife - Wildlife Research Guide - Research Guides at Humboldt State University" https://libguides.humboldt.edu/c.php?g=303913&p=2028033 2) Wild Life Protection a) Wildlife Trust of India" https://www.wti.org.in b) WPSI - Wildlife Protection Society of India - About Us" http://www.wpsi-india.org/wpsi/index.php C Readers Write V Babusenan Thiruvananthapuram Eye Sight matters Once I had planned to write a book on A.K.Ramanujan, the well-known Indian-English poet who had taught me English at Sree Narayana College, Kollam. For this, I felt I needed some clear idea about Tamil Sangham poetry. A friend suggested the name of Shri C K Sundaram who retired as the head of the department of Tamil from Mahatma Gandhi University and happily settled in his own house in Pattom, Thiruvananthapuram . I promptly met Prof Sundaram who was very kind and helpful. Quite unassuming, he was well versed in Malayalam literature too, having born as a Keralite. His wife Balambal was totally devoted to him and was a perfect hostess. The couple was childless, but didn't bother about it much. I spent many happy evenings in their company enjoying their hospitality. Balambal was a native of Palayamkottai, a suburb of Thirunelveli town. Her only worry was her old and ailing mother. As she wanted to be with her mother, the couple shifted to Palayamkottai. Thereafter, nothing was heard about them. (Of course, I wrote the book the manuscript of which is lying comfortably in the air-conditioned store-house of a popular publisher awaiting her turn for the kiss of the printer's ink.) Dr.Sekhar Prasad, the famous brain specialist settled in the US, is a close friend of mine. We were college mates. Whenever he visits India (mostly for seminars) we meet at some convenient place. The last time we met was at Thirunelveli where he came to attend a seminar on neurology convened by the Manonmaniam Sundaranar University. That at this time I could meet the Sundarams too made me particularly happy. After the seminar, I took my friend along with me to Palayamkottai. The Professor was very happy to see me. He felt honoured to meet the eminent neurologist. Naturally, our thoughts turned to Mrs.Sundaram. I asked: "Where is my hostess Balambal? Is her mother all right?" "Her mother is okay, but she is in trouble" was the reply. "Mr.Senan, she has changed a lot, of late", he continued. "She suffered a minor stroke recently. Dr Kumaresan, who treated her, assured us there was no room for any worry and actually she returned to normalcy except in two or three things. You know, Mr Senan, how we enjoyed the evening coffee and the chit-chat that followed. She used to purposely irritate me to secretly enjoy the sudden changes in my facial expression. She no longer does that. She doesn't also pour the evening coffee. How much pleasure she used to derive from these! She says that talking to me now is like talking over the phone and pouring coffee is no longer a pleasure, but an impossible job. I feel as if light has gone out of our lives." With downcast eyes, his face turned into a picture of despair, for a few moments, and then he looked up at my friend smiling and said: "Dr Sekhar Prasad, what relief I get now as if the proverbial mountain has gone to Mohamed!" All laughed relieving the tension considerably. "Where is she now?"I asked. "She is in her mother's house, across the road." replied he. "May I ask Professor, if she shows reluctance in crossing the road alone?", intervened Dr.Prasad. "Yes, she does. She always needs mine or the housemaid's help." "Let me assure you first.This condition is curable" said the doctor. He continued . "We all take seeing as a very simple phenomenon. Ask any educated man. He will say: 'Light rays through the pupil fall on the retina and the impulses are carried to a particular centre at the back of the brain by the optic nerves and there you see the image. That is all.' Actually it is not as simple as that. From that centre in the occipital lobe, the edited message goes to thirty processing centres located in the parietal and temporal lobes. The sight we see is the cumulative result of the processing done by these thirty centres. In the case of Mrs.Sundaram, the particular centre, that deals with moving objects specially, was damaged by the stroke she suffered and, as a result, she failed to visualise and judge motion of all types: The level of coffee rising in the coffee mug, the movement of facial muscles and the speed of moving vehicles on the road. Don't worry Prof.Sundaram. I will give you a letter to Dr.Krishnaswami of Nimhans, Bangalore. I shall speak to him today itself about you. Take her to Bangalore at the earliest after consulting Dr.Kumaresan. She will be all right." "Don't you want to see her?" Asked the Professor. "No, Professor, not now. Both of us will come here one day after she is completely cured." Said I. The glimmer of hope and relief that we saw in the Professor's eyes when he said goodbye to us with folded palms, lingered in my mind for many days. D Understanding Wild Life 1) Flora & Fauna https://youtu.be/sZAvWUF8uBI 2) Wild Life Movies 5 Wildlife Movies You Need To Watch" https://www.outlookindia.com/outlooktraveller/travelnews/amp/60926/5-wildlife-movies-need-watch E Wildlife Poems | "Examples of Poems about Wildlife" https://www.poetrysoup.com/poems/wildlife Excerpts: Glimpses of my village “How sweet to the heart are the scenes of my childhood” Samuel Woodworth, 1785-1842 How dearly past evokes my red-tiled home Which sits on the hill near a mango tree Where cows merrily graze and cattle roam! Back in my childhood now memories plea For wildlife, rice fields, and days full of fun For haystacks on bull-carts rolling carefree; For mauve-tinged horizons ruby skies spun For grasslands, rivers and monsoon rain fall For prairies serene, thrilled in gleaming sun; When rosy dawns awoke to roosters’ call And farmers tilled their land in sunrise gold As cultural myths invoked in crows’ squall. Oh, land of my dreams how snugly I hold! While treasures dear to me fondly unfold. November 24, 2020 F Leisure 1) "Short" Stories Animal Tales Archives | "Short Stories" https://shortstoriesshort.com/story/category/animal-tales/ Excerpts: "Once, there was an Owl who lived in an old, broken-down temple. The temple had a large library. It was full of books about history, literature and religion. The Owl studied these books all day. As time passed, he grew very proud of his knowledge. Now, he believed that he was the most intelligent of all creatures. Thus, the Owl read the library’s books every day, and then pretended to be lost in deep, wise thoughts. One such day, the Owl was sitting on a tree, outside the temple, with his eyes half closed. Suddenly, a Nightingale came and sat on the same tree. Soon, she began singing in her sweet voice. At once, the Owl opened his eyes and said to the Nightingale, “O proud Nightingale, stop your song! Do you not see that I am thinking of wise things? Your silly song is disturbing me!” 2) A forward (Contributed by Sitendra Kumar New Delhi) An unsung hero of yore RS Dalal I met Pran Nath Puri when I was in DAV College, Chandigarh, in the late sixties, through his son Parminder who was my class fellow, and later a good friend. As friends we would often visit each other’s homes and that’s how I met this devout, fearless freedom fighter. I found him to be a simple, khadi-wearing, self-effacing and unassuming person, not easily opening up about his daring deeds during the freedom struggle. Pran Nath hailed from Kunjah village in Gujrat district of Pakistan. His father, Dr Hari Chand, was well known in the area. Being bright in studies, Pran Nath joined DAV College, Lahore, and was staying in the college hostel. The revolutionary movement led by the iconic Bhagat Singh was at its peak, and he, too, like so many other young men, was swept off his feet. He became a regular subscriber to the published revolutionary literature. The hostel was often frequented by sympathisers of top firebrand leaders and his room was occasionally used for secret meetings. One day, a contact of the famed revolutionary Sukhdev approached Pran Nath and borrowed his cycle, confiding that it was needed for a cause. Soon after, Saunders was shot dead and the cycle was used to escape by the revolutionaries. The active members and sympathisers went underground. The police tortured all and sundry, anyone even remotely suspected to be connected with the movement. The methods used on the young boys were spine- chilling. The needle of suspicion pointed at Pran Nath, too. It so happened that the police officer sent to search his house in the village had a relative living there. In the evening, he accidentally disclosed the purpose of his visit. The relations panicked, as any family found out to be acting against the interests of revolutionaries was socially ostracised, such being the patriotic fervour at that time. They, therefore, implored him to go back. The officer insisted on doing his duty but relented enough to let Pran Nath’s family be forewarned, while he waited for the early morning light to break. Pran Nath’s mother lit a small fire lest curious neighbours smelt a rat and thus was busy the whole night burning revolutionary literature as well as his college books, as she couldn’t distinguish between the two. The raid was duly conducted and Pran Nath had a providential escape. While he finished his graduation, he was attracted towards the Gandhian way of protests, and served and lived at Sabarmati Ashram for two years, busy organising the camps of Satyagrahis. He fervently participated in the Quit India movement and suffered three-year imprisonment. Under parental pressure, he finally married at the age of 37, considered quite late then. After Independence, he worked in Delhi at a private motor car agency, before finally getting a government job in the labour department. He breathed his last in 1981, as an unsung, anonymous hero! G Quotes about Wild Life TOP 25 WILDLIFE QUOTES (of 253) | A-Z Quotes" https://www.azquotes.com/quotes/topics/wildlife.html

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