MOTHER 2. INDIAN AIR FORCE, no one else can do it..3.MEN...Stick this on the fridge then run! 4.Travel Photographer of the Year 5. Honorable Member of Parliament 6.I Am Joe’s Intestine
Ramanuj Asawa
My cell No is given for those who appreciate and want to have creative chat.
If you want to know who I am please visit:
<http://groups.google.co.in/group/ngp_prof_thinktank>
http://painrelieffoundation.com
http://ramanujasawa.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/people/Ramanuj-Asawa/1073317018
If you
appreciate what I am doing please forward the mail to your friends /
send email list of your friends so that I can send them invite to join
the group.
पढ़ने का शौक मुझे बचपन से ही बहुत था. जो किताब मिल जाय पढ़ डालता था. कक्षा में जो पढ़ाते वह उसी समय समझ और याद हो जाता तो घर आकर पढाई करने कि कभी ज़रुरत नहीं पड़ी. कहानियों कि किताबों में "चंदामामा" बहुत अच्छी लगती थी. उसमें विक्रम और वेताल कि कहानी सबसे अच्छी लगती थी. आज सुबह समझ में आया कि मैं भी सुबह होने का इंतज़ार करता हूँ और लोगों को एक और मेल भेजने कि तय्यारी करने में लग जाता हूँ, जिस प्रकार हठी विक्रम पेड़ के पास आकर लाश को उठाकर चल देता था.
एक शेख चिल्ली कि कहानी भी पढ़ी थी कि वह दिन में सपने देखता था. मैं भी आजकल दिन में सपने देखता हूँ कि दर्द निवारण कि पद्धति कैसे घर घर पहुंचे? सच है जहाँ चाह होती है वहां राह अपने आप मिल जाती है. अब दिल्ली दूर नहीं है क्योंकि श्री मदान साहब ने वादा किया है कि वह दिल्ली में हमारा workshop करवाएंगे. अभी नागपुर के एक सेठजी ने भी हमारे काम को आगे बढ़ाने का जिम्मा ले लिया है. रविवार से आज तक दो बार उनके साथ करीब ३०-३० लोगों का उपचार / प्रशिक्षण किया है. आगे बड़े पैमाने पर करने की तयारी चल रही है.
सच है की "अब मोहि भा भरोस हनुमंता बिनु हरी कृपा मिलही नहीं संता; जौं रघुवीर अनुग्रह कीन्हा तो तुम मोहि दरसु हठ दीना." यह प्रसंग सुन्दरकाण्ड में हनुमान जी का विभीषण जी से मिलने का है. तो अब हमें भी दमदार लोग मिल रहे हैं और जल्दी ही दर्द निवारण का कार्य अपने चरम पर पहुँच जायेगा.
वैसे भी हमें यकीन है कि "लहरों से डरकर नौका पर नहीं होती, कोशिश करने वालों कि कभी हर नहीं होती." और "ख़म ठोंक ठेलता है जब नर पर्वत के जाते पांव उखड, मानव जब जोर लगाता है पत्थर पानी बन जाता है." मुझे आज तक किसी काम के लिए ज्यादा इतनी मेहनत या कोशिश नहीं करनी पड़ी जितने दर्द निवारण के लिए करनी पड़ रही है. लेकिन जो फल मिलने वाला है वह भी तो आज तक मिले फल के मुकाबले बहुत बड़ा होगा. यह फल कोई खाने वाला नहीं होगा. और खाने पर तो वैसे भी प्रतिबन्ध है. आजकल तो हम तीनो समय सिर्फ दलिया ही खाते हैं. यहाँ तक कि बिलासपुर से आते समय सुधीर से भिलाई में स्टेशन पर दलिया ही बुलवाया था. वाकई बड़ा स्वादिस्ट दलिया बना कर भेजा था शिल्पा ने.
From: seturams <suns...@gmail.com>
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Do you know?
a human body can bear only upto 45 Del (unit) of pain.
But at the time of giving birth, a woman feels upto 57 Del of Pain.
This is similar to 20 bones getting fractured at a time!!!!
LOVE UR MOM...
God couldn't be everywhere and therefore he made Mothers...
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PERSON ON THIS EARTH…
OUR BEST CRITIC …
YET OUR STRONGEST SUPPORTER…
"MOTHER"
From: Bhushan Tembhekar <bhus...@sunflagsteel.com> Indian Air force piolts only can do this great feat :.....
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MEN...Stick this on the fridge then run!
From: Vishal Mahesh <vishal...@yahoo.com>
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Travel Photographer of the Year 2010 competition: winners' gallery |
Honorable Member of Parliament
From: Vishal Mahesh <vishal...@yahoo.com>
A young boy from Pune goes off to college. Half way through the semester, having foolishly squandered all his money ... he calls home.
"Father," he says, "You won't believe what modern education is developing!
They actually have a program here in Indian Institute of Management, Ahmedabad (IIMA) that will teach our dog, Moti, how to talk!"
"That's amazing," his father says. "How do I get Moti in that program?"
"Just send him down here with Rs.
1,00,000" the young boy says
"and I'll get him in the course."
So, his father sends the dog and Rs. 1,00,000.
About two-thirds of the way through the semester, the money again runs
out. The boy calls home.
"So how's Moti doing son?" his father asks.
"Awesome father, he's talking up a storm," he says, "but you
just won't believe this – they've had such good results they have started to
teach the animals how to read!"
"Read!?" says his father, "No kidding! How do we get Moti in
that program?"
"Just send Rs.2,00,000, I'll get him in the class."
The money promptly arrives – But, our hero has a problem...
At the end of the year, his father will find out the
dog can neither talk, nor read. So he shoots the dog.
When he arrives home at the end of the year, his
father is all excited.
"Where's Moti? I just can't wait to see him read something and
talk!"
"Father," the boy says, "I have some grim news. Yesterday morning, just before we left to drive home, Moti was in the living room, kicked back in the recliner, reading The Economic Times, like he usually does".
"Then Moti turned to me and asked:- So, is your father still fooling around with that little
pretty woman who lives down the street?"
The father became pale as an igloo and
exclaimed: "I hope you shot that son of a bitch before he talks to
your Mother!"
"I sure did, Pita ji!"
"That's my boy!"
The kid now serves in New Delhi as a Member of Parliament.
I Am Joe’s Intestine
By J.D. Ratcliff
Yes, I do complain on occasion. And why not? Joe eats and eats (oh, what he eats!)— and I do all the work
I am the ugly duckling of Joe’s anatomy.* Other organs behave with quiet modesty. Not me. Constantly I remind Joe of my existence: with embarrassing rumbles, crampy pain, overactivity at one time, underactivity at another. I am Joe’s 26-foot-long intestinal tract.
Joe thinks of me, vaguely, as a coiled tube looping through his body. I am far more than that. I expect I could be best described as an elaborate food-processing plant. Joe assumes he feeds me. Actually, I feed him. Most of the food he eats would be as deadly as rattlesnakes venom if it got into his bloodsteam. I make it acceptable, changing it into normal components of his bloodsteam— food for his trillions of cells, energy for his muscles. I convert the crisp fat in Joe’s breakfast bacon into fatty acids and glycerol. I turn the protein in his dinner lamb chop into amino acids. I change the carbohydrate in his mashed potatoes into sugary glucose. Without my chemical wizardry, even though he gorged himself, Joe would starve to death.
Except for cellulose— nut husks, celery strings and such— I digest virtually everything Joe eats and then pass it on into his blood or lymph system. My final waste is composed half of countless millions of dead bacteria, and half of the lubricating mucus I have secreted along the way, together with odds and ends that I could not absorb.
My architecture is uniquely suited for the tasks of digestion. First comes my small intestine, which consists of a ten-inch duodenum, adjacent to the stomach; then eight feet of jejunum, about 1.5 inches in diameter; then 12 feet of slightly smaller ileum. Next comes my big guy— five feet of large intestine. To a great degree my upper portion is free of microbes— strong stomach acids kill most of them off. But my lower portion contains a veritable microbe zoo— upward of 50 varieties with a total population in the trillions.
Digestion, of course, starts in Joe’s mouth and stomach. The mouth grinds, the stomach churns; eventually, food is squirted into me through a gatekeeper valve. I may get a glass of water ten minutes after it is drunk, but a pork chop may not come along for four hours. The food the stomach delivers to me is highly acid. If I got too much at a time the acid would damage my lining, and stop activity of my all-important digestive enzymes.
I take care of the acid rather neatly. My duodenum produces a substance called secretin, which empties into Joe’s bloodstream. This prods his pancreas into instant secretion of its alkaline digestive juice. This juice— about a quart a day— pours into my duodenum, neutralizing acids. Let this process fail, and Joe is apt to get what he calls a “stomach” ulcer. (Actually, nearly 75 percent of ulcers of this type occur in my duodenum.) The pancreatic juice also contains three main enzymes which tear proteins, fats and carbohydrates apart into basic building blocks.
Other fluids constantly pour into me from a number of sources: two daily quarts of saliva, three quarts of gastric juice from the stomach, bile from the liver (which breaks big fat globules into minute ones the pancreatic enzymes can process), and more than two quarts of intestinal juice from innumerable glands. That’s roughly two glands of fluid!
To the naked eye, the interior of my three small-bore sections has a velvety look. A microscope, however, reveals intricate cavities and projections. In fact, if my interior were smooth it would present only about six square feet of absorptive surface. Instead, it presents about 90. Perhaps my most important components are my millions of villi— microscopic fingerlike projections on my walls. Their job is to take processed food from my contents and put it into circulation throughout Joe’s body— proteins and carbohydrates via his bloodstream, fats via his lymphatic system.
My entire length is lined with intricate sets of muscles. One group produced a swaying motion (I am only loosely attached to the abdominal wall) which churns together food and digestive juices. When I am working, there are 10 to 15 of these swaying motions a minute. Another set of muscles produces a wavelike action; the waves push my contents along a few inches, then die out. My 20-odd feet of small gut are never at complete rest.
It takes my small gut three to eight hours to process a meal. Then I pass the watery gruel that is left along to the big intestine. It extracts the water and passes it back to the blood. This is vital. If Joe lost the two gallons of fluid in a day’s production of digestive juices, he would become a dried mummy in a very short time. Once water is extracted, a semi-solid waste remains, which I store in the part of my colon nearest my rectum.
Normally, the water-extraction process is a leisurely one, requiring 12 to 24 hours. Many things— nervous tension, drugs, intruding bacteria— can speed it up. Then Joe has diarrhea. Other things— including worry and bad diet— tend to bring activity to a near halt. Then joe has constipation. Of the two, diarrhea is more serious, because it can lead to severe dehydration. Whenever Joe has diarrhea, he should drink large amounts of water.
Though I cause Joe a wide variety of miseries, most of them, fortunately, are minor. Those embarrassing rumbles that Joe hears from time to time? They’re simply bubbles of gas passing though one of my loops. Mostly this is air Joe has swallowed. But I also manufacture my own gases— mainly methane and hydrogen. Most of this gas— a little over a quart a day— I pass to the outside. When I become bloated with gas, I respond with crampy abdominal pain.
As much as any other organ in the body, I am subject to Joe’s moods. Strong emotions can bring my rhythmic motions to a standstill. That’s why Joe loses interest in food when angry. As far as I am concerned, it would be best for him not to eat at all until he calms down.
Like most people his age, Joe has diverticulosis— although he is unaware of it. What happens is that my walls weaken and small (raisin to grape-size) enlargements bubble out. The bubbles are no particular worry unless they become infected. This is diverticulitis (the itis ending means inflammation). Though rare, it can be serious indeed.
Enteritis is an inflammation of my lining brought on by a whole array of things: viruses, bacteria, chemicals. Symptoms are cramps, nausea, diarrhea. Joe has had enteritis many times and calls it “intestinal flu.” There is no such specific disease. Generally, the inflammation subsides after a day or so of rest and a bland diet.
Ulcerative colitis— ulcers in the lining of my big gut— is another of my many ills. I don’t know what causes it. If the attack is minor, with a doctor’s help I can heal myself. It it’s massive, the ulcer can eat through the walls of my colon to cause hemorrhage. This has never happened to Joe; if it does, he is in for serious surgery.
Like most people, Joe considers himself an expert in treating his occasional bouts of constipation. Usually, I’d be better off left alone. He should remember that I am a moody organ. If I sulk for a few days, no harm is done. Joe may have an unpleasant sense of fullness, but my wastes will not poison his system.
Now that I am middle-aged— like Joe— I am no longer the efficient food handler I used to be. Once he could eat almost anything without protest from me. No longer. But even at this stage I’m not asking him to become a diet nut.
However, we would get along better if Joe would only follow a few common-sense rules. He should be cautious, for example, about foods that produce gassy distress— onions, cabbage, beans, and such— and should avoid heavy, fatty meals. He should eat plenty of fruits, leafy vegetables and coarse cereals, because these “bulky” foods stimulate and help me. He should drink more water. Perhaps more than anything else, he should try to avoid those stressful situations that play havoc with me.
This is asking a lot, I know. But it is my price for operating with a minimum amount of complaint.
*Joe, 47, is a typical American man. A number of his other organs have told their stories in previous issues of The Reader’s Digest.
This article is based largely on interview with Dr. William D. Davis, Jr., head of the departments of internal medicine and gastroenterology at New Orleans’ Ochsner Clinic and professor of clinical medicine at the Tulane University Medical Center.
Ratcliff, J.D. “I Am Joe’s Intestine.” Reader’s Digest. 99. 592. (1971): 75-78.
August 1971
http://people.unt.edu/~lsg0002/JoesIntestine.htm
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Warm Regards and Best Wishes.
CS Ramanuj Asawa
Company Secretary by profession, Acupressure therapist by hobby, Human by nature, trying to alleviate the pains of suffering humanity.
cell 094228-03662
email:asawar...@gmail.com
http://painrelieffoundation.com
http://ramanujasawa.blogspot.com/
#205, Himalaya Enclave, 1, Shivajinagar,
NAGPUR 440010
Visit for pain relief/ training with prior Appointment
Mon - Fri 8 am to 9.30 am
ॐ सर्वे भवन्तु सुखिनः, सर्वे सन्तु निरामयः
सर्वे भद्राणि पश्यन्तु, मा कश्चिद दुखभाग भवेत्.
May all be happy. May all enjoy health and freedom from disease.
May all have prosperity and good luck. May none suffer or fall on evil days.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IB69PM3DK5I
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5QM8ohMGneY&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-w_P5Pr6eEQ&feature=related