42

Hey all humans and bots and other forms of intelligence. I am one “follower” short of the magic number of 42. Who the lucky one is going to be ?

Yippie I have now hit the magic 42 mark.

As the webpage counts, “African and Proud” is the 42nd follower (Oh I wish nobody followed others (other than the purpose of wooing that is, that people were all friends, rather than “followers”). African, you appear to have visited all the posts, that is so sincere, the world is a better place thanks to people like you. Do comment on the blogs too because that is quite valuable.

If I don’t count myself as a follower (but I think I should, whatdaya say ?) than Jeny G J is the 42nd, since I like girls to be happy, I shall consider that too.

So Yay I have two 42nd followers, in two different ways. I have two different kinds of followers too, The e-mail ones are only 3. That is quite a challenge. The wordpress ones stand at 40, which is not too difficult to push to 42. Anyone ? ANYone ? or ANYtwo?

 

 

(To be continued)

To uninitiated, look up “The hitch-hikers guide to the galaxy” by Douglas Adams

In honor of Neville Longbottom

So today morning I was gazing into the eyes of that toothless old goat Gigi and humming “you make me feel so young…”, Gigi gazed back affectionately into my eyes. We both were happy. I due to my newfound friends, she because I was feeding her brussels sprouts. Thanks James Carter for introducing me to Gigi and your beautiful gift of suitcase from the town dump. I really appreciate them both. Don’t anyone ever forget Neville Longbottom, he is the most courageous of all.

The Beggar

One of my happy memories is that of a beggar. We were all kids about 10 to 15 years old. A bunch playing football in the yard of a neighbor at the end of the street. It was so much fun, dodging (my favorite), chasing, running. At that time a beggar boy about 12ish (?) came and stood at the gate. My friend P’s mom being a kind hearted woman asked the boy if he would like to eat something. The boy said no, he does not want food, wants to play. The sweet woman said in that case come on in and play. So for the next hour or so, the boy played football with us. At the end of the game he walked away without much ado. It is the kindness shown by my friend’s mom, a new knowledge that poor people don’t always need what you think they need and the fun of the game and friends (and possibly many other things, everything is multidimensional whether you can see them all or not) that makes it such a happy memory.

(As always comments are appreciated)

Recently I asked one of my students to use dh instead of th becasue it makes people smile (in Gujarati the two letters look similar and confusing), she said dhankyu

*You don’t have to be on word-press you can follow also using your mail-id”