RAVI VARMA--AGALYA PIC

SRIVILLIPUTTUR-- A MAGNIFICENT SEAT OF CULTURE & HERITAGE

Nicene Creed of Faith -- Latin

Latin liturgical version

Credo in unum Deum,

Patrem omnipoténtem,

Factórem cæli et terræ,

Visibílium ómnium et invisibílium.

Et in unum Dóminum Iesum Christum,

Fílium Dei Unigénitum,

Et ex Patre natum ante ómnia sæcula.

Deum de Deo, lumen de lúmine, Deum verum de Deo vero,

Génitum, non factum, consubstantiálem Patri:

Per quem ómnia facta sunt.

Qui propter nos hómines et propter nostram salútem

Descéndit de cælis.

Et incarnátus est de Spíritu Sancto

Ex María Vírgine, et homo factus est.

Crucifíxus étiam pro nobis sub Póntio Piláto;

Passus, et sepúltus est,

Et resurréxit tértia die, secúndum Scriptúras,

Et ascéndit in cælum, sedet ad déxteram Patris.

Et íterum ventúrus est cum glória,

Iudicáre vivos et mórtuos,

Cuius regni non erit finis.

Et in Spíritum Sanctum, Dóminum et vivificántem:

Qui ex Patre Filióque procédit.

Qui cum Patre et Fílio simul adorátur et conglorificátur:

Qui locútus est per prophétas.

Et unam, sanctam, cathólicam et apostólicam Ecclésiam.

Confíteor unum baptísma in remissiónem peccatorum.

Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum,

Et vitam ventúri sæculi. Amen

Last day at school --A short story by Giovanni Mosca

Last day at school by Giovanni Mosca

Last Day at School

--- A short story by Giovanni Mosca

“ WELL , Boys, we’ve spent the past two years together. Very soon the bell will ring and it’ll be time to say good-bye.”

I’ ve handed the reports out. Martinelli’s passed. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw his marks. This morning, his mother carefully combed his hair, making him wear a new tie that looks like an enormous white butterfly.

Crippa has also got through – that tall, 13 year- old with hairy legs who is forever falling asleep and who’ll continue to fall asleep next year also.

The next one to have failed is Antonelli, a boy who has spent the whole year carving his surname on the desk with a penknife ; but he’s so slow that he got only as far as Anton. Next year, under a new teacher, he’ll get round to writing elli.

Manili used to be a small boy whose new smock reached his toes. Now, it barely covers his knees. Spadoni used to tell tales when he came into my class two years ago ; now, he would be ashamed to do so.

When the bell rings, you’ll go away, boys, and we’ll never see each other again because I’m leaving teaching and moving to another city. I open the drawer to hand back everything I’ve confiscated during this year : Giordani’s water pistol, Spadoni’s caps, Manili’s top and Danieli’s five very common Swiss stamps, which he believes to be of great value.

The street must be full of relatives. You can hear the buzz of voices. Spadoni’s grandmother must be there, an old lady who says
“ thank you , thank you, sir” and tries to kiss my hand each time she sees me.

Giordani’s father must be there, too, a sturdy, little man who greets me even when he’s a hundred metres away. At the beginning of the year, whenever I told him that his son wasn’t working, he’d grab the boy by the ear and drag him home. But this morning, Giordani is happy because he’s passed and, for the first time in nine months, his father won’t pull his ears.

“ Be good and carry on working hard, because your teachers at high school will be far more strict. I’ll always remember you. Everything I’ve taught you has come from the heart. Don’t forget this.”

Martinelli, his eyes brimming with tears, comes towards me. All the others follow, crowding around my desk.

“ I confiscated your top, Manili ; your Swiss stamps, Danieli ; Giordani, I’m sorry that everyday your father pulled your ears because of me.”

Giordani’s eyes begin to fill up with tears, too. “ It doesn’t matter, sir. I’ve got a corn there now.” He comes near to let me feel it.

“ Me, too, ” says Spadoni, drawing close. It isn’t true, of course ; it’s just that he, too, wants to be patted before going.

They all press around my desk.

Each one of them has something to show me, an excuse to come close ; a painful finger, a burn, a scar under his hair.

“ It was me, sir,” sobs Martinelli, “ who put the lizard in your drawer.”

“ I, ” says Spadoni, “ used to make that trumpeting noise at the back of the classroom. ”

“ Do it now, Spadoni,” he asked.

And Spadoni, puffing out his tear-marked cheeks, makes that mysterious noise. I hadn’t been able to make out all year who was responsible for it.

“ Well done, Spadoni, ” I say, and I stroke his hair.
“ Me, too. I know how to do it, too.”
“ Me, too, sir. ”

“ Go on then, all of you do it. ”

And so, squeezed tightly against me like younger brothers, they puff out their cheeks in all seriousness and make a trumpeting noise, a noise of farewell.

Just then, the bell rings, its ringing coming up from the courtyard, spreading through the corridors and going into all the classes.

Martinelli leaps up, hugs and kisses me on the cheek, leaving it covered with toffee marks. They hold on to my hands, my jacket. Danieli puts the Swiss stamps into my pocket and Spadoni, the caps.

The bell is still ringing and the other classes are already on their way.

“ This is it, boys. We must go. ”

I should make them walk in a line, but it’s impossible. We practically run, all the boys around me. But as soon as we reach the street, the boys disappear, as though into thin air. Their mothers, fathers, grandmothers and elder sisters have all taken them away and I am left standing on the threshold alone, dishevelled and with a button missing from my jacket. Who could have taken it ? And my cheek is still dirty with toffee marks.

Good-bye, school. When, after a long time I come back, I’ll find other teachers who won’t know me. What excuse will I find to go back to the old classroom, to open that drawer where Martinelli had put the lizard ?

But I have been able to hang on to something : Danieli’s Swiss stamps and Spadoni’s caps ; and Martinelli has been able to keep something , too, for it can only have been to tear the button off my jacket. As soon as I get home, it there’s one thing I’ll regret doing, it’ll be having to wash the toffee marks of my cheek.

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Notes about the Author :

Giovanni Mosca is one of the well-known Italian journalists of the twentieth century. He was formerly editor-in-chief of humorous weekly magazines and is the author of 32 books. He started his career as a teacher and became a journalist in 1936. He is also a cartoonist of repute and his cartoons are known for their corrosive humour. He wrote and drew cartoons for the Rome daily II Tempo.

The present short story was published by Reader’s Digest.
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Notes :

smock ( n ) -- a loose garment worn outside other clothes.

dishevelled ( adj ) -- in a disorderly or untidy condition.

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Appreciation :

It is evident that the study focuses on this important event in the life of the teacher and , like many modern short stories, it concentrates on a single character and a single situation. Note the crispness and brevity of both the narrative parts and the dialogues.

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Comments of Churchill on India

COMMENTS   OF  CHURCHILL   ON  INDIA

   “ …power  will  go  to  the  hands  of  rascals, rogues, freebooters ; all  Indian  leaders  will  be  of  low calibre  and  men  of  straw. They  will  have  sweet  tongues  and  silly  hearts. They  will  fight  among  themselves  for  power  and  India  will  be  lost  in  political  squabbles. A  day  would  come, when  even  air  and  water… would  be taxed  in  India…”

                       --- Speech  given  by  Winston  Churchill  in  the  British 

                             parliament  in  June, 1947.

Worksheet---Cement manufacture--Flow chart

Worksheet  :

Quiz  :    Look  at  the  following  flowchart  and  narrate  the  process  of 

                manufacturing  of  cement  in  about  100  words  :     

                   

Solution  :

                      The  raw  materials  used  for  making  cement  are  clay  and  limestone. Limestone  is  brought  from  quarries. Clay  is  mined  from  plains. Then  limestone  is  crushed  in  stone  crusher. It  is  made  into  a  fine  powder. Then  it  is  mixed  with  dry  clay. There  is  a  special  device  called  as  blending  silos  for  this  purpose. Then, the  limestone  and  clay  mix  is  fed  into  a  kiln. The  kiln  is  rotated  well. The  mixture  is  then  heated  to  a  very  high  temperature  of  1500^o. C.  As  a  result, clinkers  are  formed. These  clinkers  are  ball-shaped. They  are  very  hard. These  clinkers  are  crushed  and  finely  ground  into  a  powder. Cement  is  obtained. This  cement  is  mixed  with  5 %  gypsum. This  decreases  the  setting  time  of  cement. This  is  called  Portland  cement.

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speech for Farewell day--VOte of thanks

VOTE  OF  THANKS

Respected  Principal, Vice- Principal, Director, teaching  faculty, non-teaching  faculty, management  faculty  and  student-engineers.

We  wish  to  thank  everyone  for  what  you  have  done.

We  this  day , have  gathered  here.

We  thank  the  outgoing  students  for  being  with  us   this  evening.

We  pray  Lord  Almighty  for  their  well-being  and  success  in  their  career.

Their  farewell  lets  us  shed  down  ‘ women’s  weapons , water  drops,’   as  William  Shakespeare  has  remarked.

We  thank  everyone  who  assisted  us  for  making  this  function  a  memorable  one.

We  thank  you  for  being  with  us.

Thank  you  !

 

speech for Farewell day

Welcome  Address—Farewell  Day  Festivity

Respected  Principal, Vice- Principal, Director, teaching  faculty, non-teaching  faculty, management  faculty, teachers  and  the  taught, a  warm  welcome  to  everyone  here.

Today, we  host  the  valediction  day. A  day  in  which  we   host  a  farewell  to  the  outgoing  students  of  engineering  college. The  existing  students  bid  farewell  to  the  outgoing  students.  A  full  academic  year  has  passed  by. A  full  year  of  tuition  and  learning. And  now  it  is  farewell. It  is  with  nostalgic  memories  that  we  meet  our  outgoing  students.

Hence, to  suit  the  occasion, we  host  this  farewell  function.

We  welcome  one  and  all  here.

 

B.E.,/ B. Tech., --comprehension material--Essay--Where computer is God

Where Computer is god and internet the umbilical cord

By  Sumit Raina

Chat Online, tickets Online, books Online, banking online, mail Online, dating Online, travel Online, jobs online, shopping online, gaming online, socialising online, cinema online - everything in this world seems to be going online. Don’t be surprised : people may marry, pray or even eat or drink online in the not-too distant future. It may sound absurd, but remember who could have imagined a hundred years ago that we could locate our homes from a satellite in outer space and see them on a computer monitor.

            Yes, amazing things have happened with the launch of the internet. No need to stand in long queues in the hot summer to book railway or bus tickets. We can now do banking online at the click of a button. Books from the whole world are up for grabs online, that too for free. Postal mail has really become a thing of the past. Now we have faster, accurate and simpler email. Online video tutorials have made education easy and accessible to everyone. Sitting in the comfort of our home, we can attend the lecture of a professor in Harvard. We can video chat with our friends anywhere in the world. In simpler words, distances do not matter in this internet world. Listing these benefits, one may reach the conclusion that the internet has changed our lives for the better.

            But wait a minute, anything in excess can lead to problems; even an intake of large doses of sugar can give rise to diabetes. Look at the internet generation. Most youngsters spend hours on the so-called social networking sites, be it Orkut, Face-book or Twitter, without realizing how much it can affect their mental and physical growth. People have got so addicted to their virtual life that they forget there is more to life than just sitting in front of a plastic box.

            Children at a young age have got cut off from their parents, friends and relatives. They now prefer online gaming in the air-conditioned rooms of their homes to sweating it out on the play- ground. How can they learn the importance of team spirit and physical exercise? Studies have shown that people who spend more time on the internet are more likely to suffer form physical and mental sickness. Students are suffering a lack of concentration due to the addiction to the social networking sites. People spend hours of office hours together just updating their Facebook or Orkut status, thus decreasing productivity.

            No doubt, the internet helps us keep in touch with friends but there is no substitute for human interaction. Now people prefer sending e-cards or scraps on birthdays or marriages. Friendship has become e-friendship. Just as an enormous wealth of knowledge is available on the internet, a huge quantity of pornography is freely available on the internet. It affects the moral fabric of society.

            In short, we have lost the human touch. We were born to live in a society, not in some virtual world where people fake their identities. After all, we are not robots. We have feelings and emotions which a programmed computer can never understand. We cannot live in our virtual fantasy world ignoring the real world. We need to realise that we have invented the internet technology; we are the masters and should not become slaves to this technology. We should not allow it to work for us. The internet is  a wonderful technology but it needs to be used wisely.

( The  Hindu,  dated    14-11-2010, Sunday  issue, p. 14   by  Sumit  Raina  )

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Shakuntala in distress

A  beautiful  painting  by  Indian  painter  Raja  Ravivarma.
I  love  this  painting  coz  it  is  so  lively, realistic, natural  and  true  to  life.
My  homage  to  the  great  Indian  painter  Raja  Ravivarma  through  this  artpiece.

-- Ramesh  Iyengar
    E-mail  : rameshzillion@hotmail.com
    SRIVILLIPUTTUR, TAMIL  NADU

 Shakuntala  in  distress.

ARLAKSHMANASWAMY MUDALIAR

I  am  a  strong  conservative  in  views  and  tastes. The  following  is  a  White &  Black  photograph  that  dates  back  to  1950's.

An  old  fashioned  schoolmaster  is  seen  in  turban, black coat, tie  and  a  dhoti . It  is  exactly  as  writer  R. K. Narayan  describes  the  old fashioned  schoolmaster. I  love  this  photograph.