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okay. not okay

well ive seen that from my profile a lot of the readers come n see this blog.. my personal blog is where the blahs dont end.. all others are/were sidekicks. so if you chose 'see the change' in the profile page, i say go to where the blahs dont end :D

Son,Yes Mother,I want to kill you.

A playful young lion was devoured by a lioness with frayed nerves even as its mother looked on




At first glance, it looks like a bit of rough and tumble. In a typical display of juvenile posturing in the middle of Kenya’s Masai-Mara, a young cub squares up to an adult male and lashes ineffectually with claws and teeth.
A moment of bravado later, he’s cuffed back into line by a lioness, tired of his childish antics. But the play fast deteriorates into unimaginable violence and, minutes later, the threemonth-old cub pays a terrible price for his insolence — a bloody death.
The lioness challenges one of the two dominant males — forgetting his superior size, weight and pride etiquette. The two battle it out with huge paws and razor-sharp fangs.
Finally, the furious female lashes at the cub. She claws, bites and frenziedly kills him, ripping huge chunks from his soft, furry skin as his siblings watch in shock.
Photographer Christine Denis-Huot, who with her husband Michel has studied lions in Africa for decades, said, “We have never seen anything like this in 25 years. It was very sad.”
Experts are equally stunned by the horrific behaviour. After all, lions do everything together — eat, sleep, live, breed and kill — in a pride which comprises eight to ten lionesses who stay with the group for life, and one, or two, dominant males.
Normally, the male cubs which are not dominant leave, or are forced out, when they are a few years old. But before that, they are a tightly-grouped pack and the females will do anything to protect their young.

Dr Brian Bertram, a retired zoologist and lion researcher, says for a lioness to kill a cub in this way is not known. “Infanticide is a regular practice among lions,” he says, “but only the males do it, usually when they take over a pride, to make sure their bloodline prevails. Killing the existing cubs ensures the females come back into cycle again so the male can mate with them — with cubs there, they won’t breed,” he adds.
“It doesn’t make sense for a lioness to behave so aggressively with a cub she has helped raise,” says Dr Bertram.
“It seems more like a hysterical reaction — as if the lioness has malfunctioned in some way.”
Back on the hot grass, the attack comes to a dusty, bloody end. The cub lies lifeless in the grass, the lioness throws back her massive head and, tongue lolling, mouth open wide, she looks as if she’s howling in anguish.
But the tragedy of the cub is not over yet. Still warm, but lifeless and with dripping entrails dragging through the dust, he is carried to the shade of a tree by the lioness where she sits alone before finally devouring him — while his own mother just watches and does nothing.
--
mumbai mirror took this article from the daily mail.

red!

The Doer Of Good By Oscar Wilde

THE DOER OF GOOD

It was night-time and He was alone.

And He saw afar-off the walls of a round city and went towards the city.

And when He came near He heard within the city the tread of the feet of joy, and the laughter of the mouth of gladness and the loud noise of many lutes. And He knocked at the gate and certain of the gatekeepers opened to Him.

And He beheld a house that was of marble and had fair pillars of marble before it. The pillars were hung with garlands, and within and without there were torches of cedar. And He entered the house.

And when He had passed through the hall of chalcedony and the hall of jasper, and reached the long hall of feasting, He saw lying on a couch of sea-purple one whose hair was crowned with red roses and whose lips were red with wine.

And He went behind him and touched him on the shoulder and said to him, 'Why do you live like this?'

And the young man turned round and recognised Him, and made answer and said, 'But I was a leper once, and you healed me. Now else should I live?'

And He passed out of the house and went again into the street.

And after a little while He saw one whose face and raiment were painted and whose feet were shod with pearls. And behind her came, slowly as a hunter, a young man who wore a cloak of two colours. Now the face of the woman was as the fair face of an idol, and the eyes of the young man were bright with lust.

And He followed swiftly and touched the hand of the young man and said to him, 'Why do you look at this woman and in such wise?'

And the young man turned round and recognised Him and said, 'But I was blind once, and you gave me sight. At what else should I look?'

And He ran forward and touched the painted raiment of the woman and said to her, 'Is there no other way in which to walk save the way of sin?'

And the woman turned round and recognised Him, and laughed and said, 'But you forgave me my sins, and the way is a pleasant way.

And He passed out of the city.

And when He had passed out of the city He saw seated by the roadside a young man who was weeping.

And He went towards him and touched the long locks of his hair and said to him, 'Why are you weeping?'

And the young man looked up and recognised Him and made answer, 'But I was dead once and you raised me from the dead. What else should I do but weep?'

I fe e l F R E EEEEE!

freedom has arrived!

ChAineD..BOuNd..SaFFoCaTeD..DEAD

Whose grief was greater

Demonising the killer is easy, but confronting his family can be tough

Shibu Thomas TNN

Aportly middle-aged man with a receding hairline that accentuated his age stood on the crowded verandah of the high court. The wrinkles on his forehead had crunched and almost merged into the floral and bestial motifs carved on the massive pillars of the gothic building.
Dominic Waravale had just come out of court room no 28 where the judges had ruled that his teenage son Ashish would “hang by the neck till dead’’ in the Borivli double murder case that had shocked the city three years ago. Even as he stared into apparently nothing, I was reminded of an afternoon barely an year ago when a lower court had handed out the same sentence to Ashish.
Covering the legal beat for the last three years, I was settling into the inherent cynicism and air of detachedness that comes with seeing Bollywood actors, underworld dons, murderers, scamsters, terrorists as well as petty thieves act out their parts in the courtroom drama.
It is easy to demonise the killer, but confronting the killer’s family can be harder. I thought of this as I remembered Waravale standing alone outside the trial court room, while the family of Clint Fernandes (another teenaged co-accused) crowded around the grandmother, suddenly reduced to a helpless and inconsolable old woman from the matriarch whose writ must have run the family all these years.
“I cannot allow him to see me break down,’’ Waravale had said. It was a father’s grief you saw and it was easy to forget that Ashish and Clint had stabbed 54-year-old grandmother Leticia Mendes to death two years ago. They then slashed her daughter Glenda Lobo and left her for dead. And, finally, they hanged Glenda’s one-and-a-half-year-old son Dylan to the ceiling fan with a telephone cord.
Tolstoy’s dictum of ‘unhappy families being different in their own way’ was what came to mind. But Dominic’s family could not have been different from any other family in the city.
It was difficult to say whose grief was greater—that of Waravale or that of Glenda. A year after the murder, I was chatting with the public prosecutor in the case for a story on why she was not putting Glenda, who had witnessed the murders, on the stand early on. The prosecutor placed before me the gruesome pictures of the murders. “Every time she comes to the part of her son’s hanging, she breaks down,’’ said the prosecutor.
I pushed through the crowd to where Waravale stood. A quiver rose on his lips; perhaps a sign of recognition that I had spoken to him in the same circumstances a year ago. Robbed of words, I muttered and nodded to him. Without waiting for a question he answered, “I may not appeal now.’’ Then, suddenly, a father’s emotions took over and he hastily corrected himself, “I will have to see the judgment. We have to appeal...’’ In mid-sentence he rushed toward the doors as he saw his son coming out of the court room. “How are you?’’ Waravale managed to say as he tried to touch his son’s hands before the police led him away.
Later in the day, I called up Xavier Mendes, Leticia’s husband and conveyed news of the judgment. “Justice has been done...,’’ his voice trailed off over the phone. I duly put it in my copy.
Months later, when I see the name Dominic Waravale stored under ‘D’ in my cellphone, it is the image of a father inspite of his quiet middle class dignity, trying to coax the cop to allow him to speak to his son for a moment, that comes to my mind.

======================

Thats what it is.. there are surely more good people than bad.. still they are harder to find.

And grief and love are not like peices of bread.That can be broken and compared and measured.

the doors

this ones the funniest of the lot

hope ur lookin at it the way i am.