It is holiday season once again. Your spouse and kids are at home all the time, testing your patience. Last year around this time, I had advised you on how to keep your husband busy. This year, I am in the benign mood of forgiveness. The Christmas decorations around the town, the soothing holiday songs, “Fa la la la la, la la la la,” etc. etc. have smoothed my frayed nerves and melted my stony heart as if it were a hardened clod of clay that has now fallen into a puddle. I have been dwelling dreamily in this beautiful puddle, I mean world.

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Festivities are in the air. Christians are very happy. They will celebrate Jesus Christ’s birthday as Christmas on December 25th. For them, this is like Diwali, Dussera, Holi, Raksha Bandhan, Makar Sankranti, Shivratri, Navratri, Ram Navami, Ganesh Chaturthi, Pongal, Durga Puja, all in one. Hindus are also happy because they like festivals and holidays. My Hindu neighbors decorate their homes with more lights on Christmas than on Diwali.

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(Warning: This story contains kid content. Therefore it is advisable to read it under a kid’s supervision. It is written for Shruti Nainwal, who turned 6 today.)

Little Miss Sunshine didn’t care anymore that her birthday came after everyone else’s at the end of the year in mid December. She was happy that this way she got a whole year to plan for it.

Talking of birthdays, the kids all over the world should thank Miss Sunshine that they can now celebrate their birthdays without worrying about the underground creatures, called keekos, spoiling their parties.

Miss Sunshine is a 6-year-old diva with brown curly hair and the loveliest smile. She has a secret laboratory at her home where she keeps inventing many wonderful and magical things. She also knows many languages; besides Hindi, English, and Spanish, she understands the language of animals and birds.

When she sits on the patio swing in her backyard, little birdies hop near her and tell her fascinating stories from far and wide.

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A tribute to the upholder of communal harmony and decency in the Indian society, respected Shri Shri Kapil Sibal Ji.

Yikes! I am sick and tired of the continuous tirade against Shri Kapil Sibal Ji. Please stop calling him idiot, stupid, moron, senile, loony, etc. Why are all of you hell bent on flushing away our culture and civilization, tehzeeb and tameez, down the chronically clogged drains?

(Picture courtesy The Telegraph)

Sibal Ji is an elderly person. We should respect and obey him as an elder, however idiot, stupid, moron, senile, loony, ignorant, fool, sycophant, or regressive he might be.

On the other hand, internet activities of Indians below the age of 60 years need to be supervised and monitored. Sibal Ji was right in asking the representatives of Microsoft, Google and Facebook to prescreen content originating in India, which might insult or offend other Indians. These companies are now acting like irresponsible arbiters. It makes me mad to think why these companies have made empires for themselves in our country when they cannot comply with our traditions.

What freedom of speech are these companies and the internet abusers talking about? It is totally an un-Indian concept. In our culture, it is despicable to open our mouths in front of our elders. The head of the family makes decisions for everyone, not just for the underage children, but for everyone including the wife, adult children, married sons, daughters-in-law, and grand children.

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(In the following article I have used the pronoun ‘he’ for the child instead of ‘he or she’ for the sake of simplicity.)

Source: istockphoto.com

It doesn’t matter whether your child is a genius or an average brat, what matters is if he or she knows how to be happy. I am going to illuminate how to equip your child with an inbuilt fountain of happiness forever and ever.

If you are not burdened with the task of raising children, be your own child, and use these tips to enhance your own happiness.

Your child needs encouragement at every step. As soon as the little one starts mingling with others of his kind, let him freely push, shove, or beat up other kids, although you should surreptitiously keep an eye on the tiny tots for the safety of your own tot. The sight will not only warm up your heart, but also develop mountain-like self-confidence in your child.

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Picture: Outlook India 

I am usually a happy and upbeat person, but last week after reading some contrived and shoddy articles in Outlook magazine’s Happiness Edition, I became highly miserable and fell into a dark well of “critically deep dukh and taynsion.”

To lift up my spirits, I turned the pages of the latest issue of the Time magazine. As if as a sign from Ma Unicorn, the first thing I read was, “10 Questions for Daniel Kahneman,” an interview with the psychologist and Nobel Prize winning economist.

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When I heard that autobiographies are the in books this season, I thought of writing one too. While working on this project, I realized that this way not only will I be leaving an imprint on the tapestry of history, but also bequeathing a treasure of wisdom, enlightenment, and inspiration to the current and future generations.

Once upon a time I used to live a very colorful, bindaas, kick-ass life. I will tell you about it, as also how one evening it came to an abrupt end. Since then I have been living a saintly monogamous life. Of course, not out of choice. Being an inanimate object, I do not have a free will, nor am I complaining because even the most evolved animated bundles of atoms and molecules known as human beings seldom get to exercise their free will. Like us, most of them are brought into this world to be used by others and go on living according to the whims of the very same others.

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Pictures of Abhishek and Aishwarya's babies from the above quiz
created by morphing Abhishek and Aishwarya's pictures:

(Kaun Banega Crorepati (KBC) is an Indian version of the UK game show, Who Wants to be a Millionaire)

Dear all, today I want to share my awe-inspiring, life-changing story with you. Thanks to the godsend KBC and its magnanimous superstar host, the one and only, Amitabh Bachchan Jee, I have been transformed from a meek, depressed, stressed-out person into a confident, optimistic, and an upbeat individual. The game show has burst open the gate of opportunity in front of my eyes and has allowed me to dream big about money, fame, and success in life.

Eleven years ago, I used to slug at home as an unpaid housemaid and drudge at a private school as a teacher bogged down between ungrateful students and hateful administration for a meager amount.

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Srilakshmi stood stupefied, watching the blazing fire at a nearby fireworks factory. She was a 12-year-old, dark and skinny girl, with unwashed sun-bleached short hair, and dressed in an oversized, soiled salwar-suit, desperately waiting to be 14 so that she could also work and earn alongside her mother.

When her strong leg got tired, she squatted on the dirt-littered ground and kept watching the spectacle, without knowing that her mother was one of those trapped in that doomed factory.

The blaze was accompanied by thick white fumes, loud bursting noises, and crackers shooting up in various directions. Although it was the rainy month of August, the sky was clear that day. Such explosions and accidents were common in Sivakasi, a bustling town that manufactured 90% of all firecrackers for Diwali and other celebrations.

Srilakshmi had also suffered severe burns in a fire accident many years ago, which left her right leg disfigured. She had stopped going to school because other children teased her for her limp.

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We need to make India a kick-ass nation, meaning a forceful, aggressive, and impressive superpower. For that, we need a revolutionary transformation in our way of thinking, behaving, and working.

As citizens of a wannabe superpower, we should demand improved infrastructure and efficient services without hassles and corruption. Indians are the best in the world. We should follow our own traditions to find our own ways for development rather than aping the west.

Enough of politeness, courtesy, and respect—these things are not going to take us anywhere. We shouldn’t be bothered about fulfilling our responsibilities either. Only by kick starting a kicking/punching/verbal-abusing/shoe-throwing revolution, both online and offline, can we make India a real superpower. We need to be crazy for our nation.

Even Anna Hazare says, “When a man's power of tolerance runs out, then whoever is in front of you, if a slap is given, then the brain is put back in place. That is the only road open now.”

Please like “Let us kick, punch, and break heads of all anti-India traitors to make India a superpower” on Facebook. Let us spread this message by writing violent one-liners inciting people to beat up Digvijay Singh, Kapil Sibal, Rahul Gandhi, Prashant Bhushan, Arvind Kejriwal or anyone else that anyone doesn’t like.

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(From the previous post: “What I love doing is eating and sleeping. No one is going to push start my stopped juggernaut. I am a rebel with a grouse. Suddenly I have realized that my time on this earth is limited. I will not waste it living someone else's life.”)

Friends, my Eating & Sleeping project is going on very well. As Ralph Waldo Emerson had once said, “Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen.”

My universe is made up of my friends and my family members. And I have been receiving unconditional support from everyone. All my online and offline friends except a few jealous souls have been extremely delighted at my undertaking. I remember my best friend, praying, “Oh God, if you can not make me thin, make all my friends fat.” Looks like God has listened to her. I am putting on a lot of weight these days.

This is how I might look in the future.
(In this 2007 picture, I am in a jumpsuit filled with balloons)

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Like everyone else, I am also very sad at the untimely demise of Steve Jobs, the outstanding creative genius of our time. He was such a fine human being. I have watched the video of his inspiring commencement speech at Stanford University several times, and have been assiduously following all the stories that my friends have been linking. Quotes from the speech are still popping up on blogs and as status updates on Facebook.

His message, “You've got to find what you love,” has hit a chord with the young internet-savvy Indians.

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When an airplane shakes in midair, we call it turbulence. Similarly, when the ground beneath our feet shakes, we call it an earthquake. I hope you do not confuse either of these with milkshake, which falls under an entirely different category.

Air turbulence causes only panic and motion sickness among the passengers unless the aircraft is going to crash, while earthquakes can render widespread devastation and destruction. The buildings and bridges could go tumbling down and turn into rubble, crushing human beings as you crush ants and other lowly creatures with your shoes.

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The parting was difficult. Neither you wanted to leave, nor did I want to lose you. It was our destiny to go our separate ways.

When we were together, I never thought much about you, though you were always there for me. You endured all the sweet and bitter moments of life with me. I took you for granted. You were my hidden pearl, always keeping a low profile. I regret not caring enough for you. Never knew my sweet indulgences were afflicting you until you rebelled and started pestering me.

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Who loves well, punishes well

This is important. Domestic abuse should be condemned in strong words. It is an epidemic. According to one study only 1% of all domestic abuse is reported to the police. The reasons behind this underreporting could be that either people want to maintain the façade of pride and honor of their families, or they become so habitual that they consider it a normal behavior

Before I started writing this post, I used to think domestic abuse meant abusing domestic animals. I had read about them in primary school, and every year from 1st to 5th standard, I always got full marks in exams for the essay “The Cow” until it was replaced with “Independence Day” in middle school. That was the time when my percentage dropped drastically. But none of the essays had any mention of abuse. Thus to research this topic, my first step was to find out the definitions of the words domestic and abuse.

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(Picture courtesy samvada.org)

In the year 2011, a sizeable percentage of Indian population woke up from a deep slumber not because an army of termites had eaten away the couch they were sleeping on, but from the drum beats of Anna Hazare’s managers.

The managers specifically targeted the sociable Facebookers, Baba Ramdev’s simple followers, and Sri Sri’s suave breathers. All of them except a tiny minority instantly fell in love with Anna. In other words, Anna ki lagan was bujhaye na bane for many, and lagaye na lage for a few. He was an adorable affable old man, always saying nice things, and ready to sit on hunger strike for good causes.

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You have already read how my flight from Atlanta to Amsterdam was delayed because of the level of difficulty in switching on my cell phone.

The three-hour gap at Amsterdam airport before boarding the connecting to India was thus shrunk by an hour. I still had two hours to while away, so I settled down with David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, a hefty 1088-page book—checked out from Roswell library as a tribute to the author who had recently committed suicide—which I intended to finish during my visit. At the end of the trip, I was as successful in my mission as I am with all other projects in life—I got through a whopping 1% of it.

(Source: 123RF.com)

While trying to keep my eyes on the book I was also blissfully aware of my surroundings, buzzing with colorful fellow Indians—the bawling tots, the buoyant youngsters, and the bored elders. I could hear various Indian accents and dialects. My heart was filled with warm feelings. The atmosphere reminded me of fairs and marketplaces back home. The only difference was that the stores were selling insanely expensive stuff, which made me long for the pestering street peddlers, who sell everything for almost free. I always ask for one more, if I get something free. Absence does make the heart grow fonder.

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(Picture Courtesy abcteach.com)

It was my first flight alone. I was going to fly by KLM Royal Dutch Airlines from Atlanta to New Delhi via Amsterdam to see my mother who had undergone heart bypass surgery two months ago. While I was excited like a fledgling bird, all my friends and family members were worried about me as if I was going to Afghanistan on a rescue mission.

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Harish Tyagi/European Pressphoto Agenc  (via WSJ)

Last week after reading various status updates by my friends who were gushing over Hina Rabbani Khar’s good looks, I googled her to learn more.

Hina Rabbani Khar is the newly appointed Foreign Minister of Pakistan. She was born into a family of politicians and businessmen 34 years ago. She has a Bachelor’s degree in Management Sciences from Lahore University and a Master’s degree in Hospitality Management from the University of Massachusetts. She has two daughters and co-owns the Polo Lounge, a restaurant located on the Lahore Polo Ground.

After browsing the limited information about her that is available on the web, I went on to watch videos of her India visit, her first major diplomatic assignment. Initially, I thought she was lip-syncing to someone else’s voice. But soon enough I realized that although it was someone else—the GHQ back home—speaking through her, the indomitable, dabang voice was her own. I was a bit intimidated by her strict demeanor. While watching the last video in which the latest fashion icon was offering a chadar at Ajmer Sharif, I fell asleep.

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Govind Tiwari is awesome. His wonderful blogs and instant fame are making a lot of people envious. I really like the guy and trust him when he say that he is dil ka bhola. Not only that, he is also a master of multimedia effects. He inspired me to create this blinking-eyes animated image. Believe me it was not an easy task.

I also want to make videos like him. My friend Purba Ray has suggested a song, "Jaa Chudail," from the movie Delhi Belly. I guess chudail means princess.

Related Links:
Govind Tiwari's Awesome Blog
IBN LIVE: How Govind Tiwari got his 15 minutes of fame
Faking News: Rahul Gandhi gets 'blinking eyes' image like Govind Tiwari

Updated: December 30, 2011

Tags: India, Indian, Hit dance song list, Hindi movies, Bollywood songs, Year 2011, Top dance numbers, Top 10, Top 50, Best dance tracks, New Year's Eve, Party Playlist
Scroll down for links to 2009 and 2010 dance songs!

1. Character Dheela, featuring Salman Khan and Zarine Khan from the movie Ready

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(Related External Link: TED TALK- What do babies think? by Alison Gopnik)

For scientists and researchers studying human development, a newborn baby’s cognitive abilities are still an unexplored territory. Just like the Higgs boson particle, a baby’s mind remains a mystery. According to one theory, babies are born with complete knowledge of their previous births hence they are exceptionally worldly wise. This is the reason why their heads are so big. As they grow older, their memories of past lives fade and are lost completely around the time they attain linguistic abilities.

Last week, in an unprecedented event, the above theory unraveled itself in front of me. I had gone to see my friend’s two-month-old twins. Both the babies were lying on their backs in their crib. Their gravity-defying arms and legs were kicking invisible monsters in the air.

(Picture source: shutterstock.com )

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I have an extraordinarily well-developed hidden talent, which I have been trying to bring out to display for the benefit of the whole world, but try as hard as I can, it remains inside and refuses to manifest itself in its full glory. I am dead sure about my musical talent because in my head, I can sing all my favorite Bollywood songs and ghazals in correct pitch and perfect rhythm with the ease and panache of the original singers.

While my husband tells me that music is not my cup of tea and that I should spend more time in the kitchen making real tea, I believe I can perfect my actual singing with due patience, diligence, and practice.

Thus for the past several years, I have been training my vocal chords during all my waking hours.

Whenever we go out, my daughter walks 15 feet ahead of me and communicates only via text messages. She has indicated many times that if I didn’t stop singing in public, people would start doling out coins and dollar bills. But believe me, to this date, no one has ever offered me any money: not that I would mind it. Artists like me usually live on alms and do need some patronage.

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Rahu, the head of Demon Snake.
It swallows the Sun and the Moon, causing eclipses.
(via Wikimedia Commons)

Were you worried about the adverse effects of this century’s longest and darkest lunar eclipse? I know I was. According to the Hindu shastras, such events are extremely inauspicious, which means if you do not follow what the astrologers say, you will lose health, wealth, and wisdom if you had any of these despite following the astrologers.

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Credits:
You can watch Baba Ramdev's original video here on an earlier post.
And find here the song Nakkadwale Disco Udharwale Khisko from Delhi Belly on YouTube.

Many of the innovations and inventions that we see around were first imagined by people like me. We writers and thinkers have the enormous responsibility of conceptualizing ideas—big and small—and disseminating them for the benefit of humanity.

Racking the Brain

Let me tell you that I have been highly ingenious since early childhood. I spend a great deal of time, contemplating, ruminating, and evaluating new ideas for useful products, but when I share an idea with my family or friends, I usually find out from them that it is already available in the market. Had I been born a century earlier, I would have invented or discovered a lot of things. It seems like there is not much left for me.

Still I am going to keep racking my brain and share my ideas with everyone. After that, it is up to the manufacturers to pick up any of these gems from here and send me royalty checks in the future.

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(Blogger ate my post. Therefore I am republishing "A Prayer in Memory of Osamaji Bin Ladenji" ) 

If you pray sincerely you can see him too!
(Picture courtesy Giribala Joshi)

Friends, terrorists are people too. Let us not hurt their feelings by gloating over the death of al-Qaeda chief Osama bin Laden. If you can spare a little time, please join me in a prayer for the departed leader.

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So what if we shared a common ancestor? Bhad mein jaye common ancestor! 

Sorry Grandpa, of course you still remain my strongest link with the British Royal Drama Company, but you have been dead for such a long time that your descendants have stopped valuing relationships.

Even then, I wish my distant cousin, William, and the new recruit in the Drama Company, Catherine, a very happy married life.

Because there were no cameras back then, and you didn't leave any pictures, I will post a sketch of you for my friends, and they will definitely be able to notice the resemblance.

I am very sorry to disappoint my readers, but I couldn’t witness the wedding first hand. Just like others, I had to resort to the net to watch the videos and the pictures of the extravaganza. My readers were waiting to hear my account of the high profile pageantry, more so because I was related to the Royals and could have told my readers a lot of inside gossip. Even I wanted to be a part of it, and had been practicing the required dialogues and moves for the past many days as is evident by the picture on the left.

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Lower Falls Creek Lake at Callaway Gardens

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Rs. 50 used to have great value back then

Many of my readers have wondered why I have not come forward in support of the anti-corruption movement. I am very sorry to disappoint you all. I have a long, sustained, economically beneficial association with this enormous amoeboid creature called corruption and I simply cannot start throwing poisonous darts at it.

I am one of its favorite munh-boli daughters. I was born after paying bribes to a doctor and a midwife, graduated from various schools and colleges by bribing the teachers and the officials, and got married, again, by paying bribe, i.e., dowry. And how do you think my father got money for his large family? I cannot imagine life without corruption. Most of my friends, relatives, and family members have been corrupt by various degrees. My entrepreneur friends do not like the notion of income tax at all. And my hard working relatives—doctors, engineers, lawyers, police officers—tell me that there is no provision of paying tax on their extra income.

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Important: The images on this page are digitally altered. For real pictures follow these external links:

ESPN Cricinfo: The 2011 World Cup in pictures

BOSTON.COM: Big Picture - Cricket Passion

I grew up playing cricket with my neighborhood kids like these.

Pakistani Prime Minister Yousuf Raza Gilani and Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh greet the players at the Cricket World Cup semifinal match in Mohali

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This aarti should be sung everyday by men who want to become rich and desirable like the honorable chief minister of Tamil Nadu, M. Karunanidhi, and also by women who want their husbands to be rich and desirable like the great leader. He is also known as Kalaignar, meaning scholar of arts, maybe because he is good at the art of making money.

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Sylvia Plath (1932-1963)

Ab ke bichhde to shayad kabhi khwabon mein mile,
Jis tarah tale hue cockroach Jaldiram’s namkeen mein mile.

(If we parted this time, we would probably find each other in dreams,
The way fried cockroaches are found in Jaldiram’s namkeen.)

Obviously, the above parody is not composed by Sylvia Plath. She certainly never tasted Jaldiram’s snacks. I am the one who gorges on export-quality (read expired-quality) packet after packet of bhujia and navrattan mix. I just thought of putting some original stuff before writing about the translation.

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For the past few days, every news channel has been talking about the Middle East. At first, I thought this was related to the directions on a compass, but then I googled and read about the history in making. The moment of enlightenment for me was when I came across the word—Domino. It was like a ‘Eureka!’ moment. Not that I understood the topic entirely, but I got the gist of the matter, if you know what I mean. I discovered that the Middle East was a company that supplied frozen pizzas and oil all over the world.

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In the Cipher 1982
by Jean Michel Basquiat

Continued from the previous post:

And then suddenly, tabhi achanak, I received a phone call from my friend....

While I was still recovering from the mishaps of the day, she enthusiastically detailed her family’s fabulous outing to the museum and the park. After she finished describing their fantastic lunch at Olive Garden, she asked, “Do you have any plans for the evening?”

“No,” I replied, thinking she was inviting me for some activity.

“We will be at your place within ten minutes. Happy and Lucky don’t want to go home yet, and besides, we want to give you a break from your blogging-shlogging.”

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Donut Revenge 1982
by Jean Michel Basquiat

I wrote a poem yesterday. Before inflicting it upon you, I believe it is my duty to explain the story behind it. “A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.” So said Robert Frost. I have been suffering from all these maladies for the past few days.

I was homesick. I talked to my mom last week. She said when she goes to sleep at night she doesn’t know whether she would be able to get up in the morning or not. That made me extremely sad. The next evening when I called, she was in a baraat, a wedding procession, of a neighbor’s son. “I am sitting in a car. Many others are on foot, dancing to the music.” This made me even more miserable. I missed the band-baja-baraat.

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In our day-to-day life, we are surrounded by a variety of gadgets, for example, room heaters, cell phones, computers, washing machines, treadmills, mirrors, tumblers, etc., etc. We rarely use them to their full potential, depriving ourselves of most of the benefits.

There is an immense information gap between the inventors and the consumers. To use such technological marvels with love, respect, and the care that they deserve, all adults who are not senile should at least have rudimentary knowledge about their working.

Also sometimes you end up looking like a fool when you are not able to answer a question posed by an inquisitive 4-year-old member of your family. To help you avoid such awkward and embarrassing situations, I present my dissertation on a few popular gadgets.

Habitat Machine (Courtesy dezeen.com)

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Dear Readers, I am happy to announce that I won Faking News Innovative Banner Award. It was a fair and transparent contest. I did not ask anyone to vote for me, nor did I try to influence any of the judges after submitting my entry, because there weren't any.

I had eliminated all the possibilities of wrongdoing at the inception (not the movie, silly.) The Grist Mill had conducted this contest in keeping with the highest standards of the blogging community. No one knew about the contest because I didn’t tell anyone. Mine was the only entry in the competition and it won hands down.

The pictures that were used to make the banner.

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No! Seriously, you do not want to become a writer. Writing is hard work without any earning, only learning, learning, and yearning. Behind your back, your friends will call you lazy, or good-for-nothing, or a loser. I suggest you concentrate on your day job. Besides, there is nothing in the world left for you to write about.

Can creative writing be taught? It's complicated.

 Illustration by Dave Donald.

Every object and every emotion has already been explored and explained in detail—the libraries are spilling and the web is exploding with all kinds of writings. Instead of further augmenting the agonies of the readers by over-stimulating your cognitive processes and churning out original stuff, it is better to copy-paste from the web, not from my blog, though.

I sense some of you are still keen on putting down your experiences and thoughts in two dimensions. In that case, I would like to elucidate the two methods of becoming a good writer. You may follow any one of these.

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It so happened that Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck were chatting online, and during their passionate back and forth, they accidentally spilled in the chat window how lonely they were in spite of their bunch of ardent followers.

“It’s lonely at the top,” he wrote.

“You betcha,” she replied.

“Heads of state mingle with each other at G8 Summit, business leaders have meetings to discuss their issues, movie stars gather at award ceremonies, even the petty bloggers manage to hold bloggers meets.”

So Palin and Beck decided to have a Rhetoricians’ Convention. Palin then informed me about the meeting and its agenda:

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“Please do not implement your F-Day idea.”

(Picture Courtesy 21 Fools)

This is an urgent request to two of the readers of The Grist Mill. I am reporting from New Delhi, January 8, 2017. I want to tell them how we have been suffering from the consequences of their exploits. I will not name these two troublemakers because their more sensible and mature present-day selves have requested anonymity.

Since January 1st, we have been witnessing nothing but mayhem—incidents of domestic violence, snatchings, stabbings, lootings, daylight robberies, dark-night murders. Our past experiences tell us that this will go on for many more days.

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(Hindi Version मेरे मरने के बाद) 
From Times of India, Jan 7, 2011:
News Story #1: A middle-aged man was killed and his wife suffered serious injuries when they were thrown off the moving train by the train ticket examiner (TTE)
News Story #2: Parijat Banerjee was so engrossed in a cell phone conversation that he tripped on the balcony grill of his seventh-floor apartment and plunged to his death.
New Story #3: The 75-year-old mother-in-law of the advocate general of Punjab was found raped and murdered in her house.
News Story #4: The deaths of 18 lakh girl children in India in the past two decades have been linked to domestic violence against their mothers.

Newspapers are so uplifting, really. Unlike Facebook, where people dressed in latest trendy clothes are either vacationing at exotic locales or celebrating birthdays in style, which gives me acute heartburn, though I always ‘Like’ such updates and post comments like—nice, lovely, looking great….

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Julian Assange (Digitally Altered Image)

The Grist Mill Criminal of the Year award goes to Mr. Julian Assange, the editor in chief of WikiLeaks, for criminalizing the whole world.

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