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This photo has kindled a lot of Nostalgic moments from my age of 9 to 15 i.e. 6 years. My school, Sri Venkateswara High School, fortunately had “Khakhi” uniforms knowing very well that children of poor cannot more frequently take bath than. It was a norm that once in a week if you take bath than you belong to middle class. Once my father understood that Khakhi is the uniform, his decision was simple – now onwards no non-Khakhi clothes. Also we were three brothers (each with one year gap) who could wear each other’s clothes easily. My father felt 6 set of clothes (shirt and trouser) are enough for 3 sons – for all needs of day, night or schools, night wear, party wear, markets, marriages, farming…. It looked like things were going smooth until we observed something unique. My trouser, an old one was torn near the bottom where it was touching often the ground. I had to go for a marriage and I had no option; my only wish was to wear a “Khakhi” which is not torn in a wrong place. So I went to Dhobhi Mr. Palani’s house which was just 50 mts away. Mr. Palani who understood my problem started bluffing that it is still not washed. However, I persistently told him, it is Khakhi and hence washing is not a must; and I explained him its priority and the need to wear it for the marriage party. Finally, he had to speak the truth, he said “Maniarasu, my son, has gone to the same marriage an hour ago with the same trouser.” That was the level of intelligence he used for his son who was also studying in the same school as me and my brothers; not buying a uniform of his own and sharing our uniforms instead! Fortunately, this problem which created frequent ruckus between my mother and Mrs Palani was solved in the next academic year because of another mistake of my neighbor Mr Krishnaswamy who had to pay us some Rs. 20 for our wages which he indefinitely delayed. My father found that his mill store gives installments if he buys his mill product. So he was impregnated with the idea of buying Khakhi cloth for us. Instead of buying 5 meters material each for shirt and trouser, he bought 10 meters of material of only trousers. My father was bit worried about the mishap and he got into quick damage control by talking to the tailor who argued “I have never stitched a shirt using trouser material”. And somehow he finally was convinced. Then we got 5 setsof Khakhi Shirts and trousers – of which the shirts lasted too long; and Maniarasu could not wear our clothes because it would have been distinctly identified by any one in that village. I distinctly remember our wardrobes had hardly anything and what we had worn for 6 years, 24×7 was same – Khakhi! купить кресло груша украина

I was busy with our laboratory relocation. Not a simple task I must say, hence it did take up a great deal of my time. I hope I have no breaks henceforth. To begin with I wish to share my experience about ‘Human Resources’. I wish to elaborate using a cat and mouse analogy. I see three kinds of cats in the workplace. Cat number one : Has a good nose and good ears. With the help of both smell and sound the cat gets closer to its target mouse. It relishes its feast, which it obtains through its intelligent handling of the situation. Thus, life is fun for this sensible independent creature. Cat number two: Nose is dull while Ears are sharp. So, it has to be guided to its target mice and once it gets guidance, the sharp ears track its movement and within minutes, it too has a feast. However, it jumps into action only when guided further. An obedient, capable and semi – dependant cat. Then, comes the third cat. Neither a sharp nose nor sharp ears. It neither senses any mouse on its own, nor can listen to instructions. It depends on others mercy and enjoys what is provided on a platter or else often goes hungry. Quite incapable of doing anything on its own. Aren’t you all wondering what’s all this about cats and mice? Well the fact is that even in a workplace one finds different categories of managers, officers and executives, which decides the fate of the company. A company or family or organisation prospers and excels if it has majority of its members like that cat one, survives if majority are like cat two and perishes if the majority are in the last category. Is it God’s lapses to create them without enough senses or is it the parents failure in nurturing those senses or is it their own shortcomings in under-utilising their potential that brings down their rightful dignity? One can only conjecture. Read the latest car news and check out newest photos, articles, and more from the Car and Driver Blog.

I come from a village which cannot be traced even in a taluka map and I am now in one of India’s biggest metros. I was an employee and now I am an employer. I have seen poverty and experienced riches too. I am a son of a poor man, now I am a father of rich children. I have read about empires being made and empires being lost. But my conviction about what contributes to strength and stamina has not changed. This statement will be more meaningful in context of the following narration. As I stated in the beginning I am from a small village, born to parents who had struggled to feed a family of six. Neither had I owned a pair of slippers, nor a full length trousers till I crossed my teens. I used to have friends who liked me to pedal the bicycle for them, because they wanted to eat masala dosa or watch movies in a nearby town which was about a 10 km distance from my native village. With a dynamo on (for light of the cycle) balancing 60 kilograms weight of my rich friends, I have driven that 100 km distance in late nights from a theatre just because I was provided with a free movie ticket. I have walked barefoot, 100 km in three days for 10 continuous years in the name of worship, when I was in my teens. All these years I often used to tell my friends, colleagues and relatives, and it was not to make them think that I was great, but was to impress upon them that all these experiences built up my “Strength and Stamina” which I have cherished in these last 20 years of my life. It was important to me that my relatives and friends, and their children learnt the importance of hard work and exercise in the present age of sedentary lifestyle. To me, a sedentary lifestyle is the worst killer. The inability to walk a stretch of 10 km to me is totally unacceptable. This is how most teens of today manage their lifestyle: Grandmothers run to get them a glass of water while they are riveted to a sofa watching a soap opera. Mothers run to get the remote for them to change the channels. Fathers run to get them the photocopy of the ‘rivers of India map’ for their homework from a street corner shop. It is an era where “rickshaw” and “call taxis” and also “parents and servants” are helping a child to avoid even walking 10 steps in a day. It is an era when parents in their early forties take a high end car to the nearby “fitness centre” to lift a leg for which they pay heavily. They don’t realise that this attitude will ensure that their children reach their twenties! So when I question and analyse what is happening to our next generation, I am told, ‘gone are those days, ‘world has changed’, ‘why do you want to harass your children just because your father was poor?, ‘what is wrong if the loving grandmother brings a glass of water for the pet child?,’ my employer pays for unlimited petrol, so why not let my child benefit?’. Download Free WordPress Themes Themeforest and free plugins Codecanyon – addonswp.com.

It was Wednesday, that day of the week when we had to go to the inorganic chemistry laboratory for our practical session. It is known fact that a chemistry laboratory is full of corrosive acids, bases and other chemicals; a single drop on the skin can leave a permanent scar. My professor, Dr. Swaminathan of Sri Ramakrishna Vidyalaya, Coimbatore had already issued me four warnings: “Do not come to the laboratory without chappals!” This had become an unpleasant routine every Wednesday noon for both of us, because it was the same issue week after week. One fine day he said – “I am sorry – you have to go out”. Of the 40 students in the class, I happened to be the unfortunate one who did not even have a family member from whom I could borrow the chappals. There were five other boys who managed to come only on Wednesdays wearing their borrowed ones. I had no choice but to go out and sit in the library brooding on how I could come out of the situation. Every problem has a solution. I went to my neighbours’ field and found out that he was selling his Brinjals for Rs. 0.60 per kilo (I am talking about 1976). I sensed that here is a possibility of making some money if I take it directly to an end user. I asked him, for how much would he give me and since he knew me, he agreed to give it to me for Rs. 0.50 per kilo. I took a basket and bought 10 kilos from him and identified a housing colony to sell the Brinjals. As I did not have any cart to do that I just carried the basket on my head and gave a clear and loud call in Tamil, my native language “Kathrikkai – Kathrikkai”, which means “Brinjal – Brinjal”. I priced it at Rs 1.20 per kilo and went ahead and successfully sold 4 kilos within an hour. It was thrilling and motivating. I had started at 4.30 pm and by 5.30 pm I had finished with that colony. It was the month of November when the days are short and nights are long, but I wanted to try just one more street before calling it a day. A lady who had heard me, called me. She liked the Brinjals, for their colour and freshness and thus took two kilos, which was a big deal for the evening. She had to pay me Rs. 2.40, but had only Rs. 2 in her purse and wanted me to settle with that. But, I was keen to take the 40 paise from her and insisted, stating that my boss would not appreciate. Finally, she called out to her husband who was inside the house and asked him to bring the change. But he came out with a one-rupee note since he too did not have the required change. But when he saw me, his face changed colour and so did mine. It was my chemistry professor who had no choice but to send me out of class the previous day. He looked at me from head to toe (made an observation that I had no chappals) and queried me, “Is this what you do daily after college hours”? I told him that it was my first day and explained that through this means by next Wednesday, I would have the requisite chappals on my feet. He was visibly moved and refused to take the 60 paise change back from me. I was not ready to take the 40 paise from him either because he was my professor. His wife stood and watched this emotional drama between her husband and a casual vegetable vendor. It took her a few minutes to understand that I was his student. Finally sir won, and I got Rs. 3 for a vegetable for which I had to pay only Re. 1. The turnover for the day was Rs. 10 and the cost of material was Rs. 5. My chappals cost me only Rs. 3. Next Wednesday, when I went to my laboratory class, my sir did look at my feet first and then at my face. I have not met him for the last 30 years, but I still remember him vividly. Had he not driven me out of the class that day, I might have not understood that there was a 140% margin even in the Brinjal business! full movie online