Giving !

It is morning. Its still raining. The flowers on offer are too tempting to resist. Bright white ones. With those dots of yellow. All kept in a red bucket. Fresh from a pond close by. Theres not much aroma. But they are a treat for the eyes.

***

Theres a knock on the door. And a young innocent school going kid stands on the other side. She smiles. And proceeds to state that she is from the 10th floor of the same apartment.

"Its the Joy of Giving Week uncle". So she speaks. In a well rehearsed presentation. The request is simple. She is collecting old newspapers from each house in the apartment. She wants to sell it and 'GIVE' the proceeds to slum children living close by.

She sure should have given slum children something. For all the newspapers in the apartment would have added to decent sum.

More importantly, she sure gives hope. That all is not lost. That people still do think about the man living down the street. And are willing to go knock and open many doors. The mind is young ! Nothing can be more encouraging.

The Joy of Giving week is here ! Actually, its slipped into its third day ! It sure does merit an extra thought ! And some action too.

In the modern day, fast paced world, to stop and look is at a premium. Giving is still further away! Perhaps its time, to make a start. To stop, look and give ! Perhaps its time to commence by giving !

Whatever. Clothes. Eyes. Appliances. Books. Sweets. Whatever ! Perhaps its important to add there : Time, hope and such else too. And maybe they are the ones on real short supply !

So people, here is the message. To all those that give, give more ! And for all those that have been thinking about it : try giving !

The Joy of Giving week is here. And we are three days into it ! Make a start this week. And carry it all along ! Perhaps you can let the world know by sharing it too. You never who it will propel to action !

***

Ah those flowers. They were beautiful weren't they.

The smile and joy that emerge after sometime, evident from their wide grins and shy nods is but a logical visible consequence.

A consequence of something as simple as a small conversation over a pack of cookies that were in the car..! It has always caused unceasing wonder, that such smiles indeed reside in otherwise sad faces.

The beauty in those smiles.. well.. they beat the beauty of the flowers. All the time !

Giving !

Its not the drum !

Its a big hefty drum. With a red cloth to cover. Perhaps to cover its might. Perhaps to cover what lies inside. These are distinctly rural men. You can see it in their looks and the ease with which they heave it on to their shoulder, lean on to the other side, and let the beats do the talking!

Beats that you are unfamiliar with. But resonating with what you know so well. From your own land. You wince. As memories of another time flow. In some time, there is music. Here, these three drummers whip up your heart beat.




At the other side, the charcoal embers laced with incense powder fumes! At yet another, amidst the crowd, there is palpable expectation.

In a short while, hips, legs, head and all other parts of the body sway to the beats. In a synchrony that begs to find a new word. A word better than 'synchrony' !

The hands. Oh yes, the hands hold those pots fuming embers !

Your heart skips a beat. As the drummers and the dancer get into a jig now and then. Un-rehearsed. But flawless, for all of it is in the flow of the moment. You wonder, how he heaves such a big drum on on his shoulder, creates music, does a jig in response to the dancers steps. Smiling all the way.



You wonder how those dancers hold those hot embers yet stay connected to each step of the drum beat. So graceful. And so complete. Smiling all the way.

You get goose bumps. Dancer after dancer. Some are artistic. Others mesmerise. Yet others hold the eye. All in seamless flow.

You notice that the pictures that you attempt to click are getting blurred. The angles are missing. There is a lot of shake. You wonder whats wrong with the camera. And realise that the cameras just fine. Its just you moving to the beats from those big drums.

To you, it appears that the real dance is the one that's on in each persons heart. As people smile. Clap. Cry. Go moist in the eye. Laugh. Cheer. Click. Record. And of course, dance.

Right there. As the drummers whip up the music. And the dancers catch it from thin air. And throw it right back at the drummer.

Perhaps everyone is connected to a different time. Perhaps a different place. Perhaps a longing to recreate that time and place, now. In a different distant city. Perhaps its a nested joy in being one with similar minds and very similar longing.

You realise that you are in a trance. Soaking in the unfamiliar drum beat, the dance and the fragrance. And something more.

There are you are. Aware. Unsure. At peace. Strangely happy. As those rural drums get the city dwellers dance in joyous abandon !



Later on, you lie in bed, thinking of the evening. The drums, the dance and the beautiful women and handsome men. You realise, that you can describe all of that.

And you are aware, of something else that was there about the air. An undescribable part. You know that its there. Yet, it eludes description. You try thinking about it.

You are tired. And you choose to leave it at that. Half asleep, you mumble to yourself, " perhaps it is Durga. Perhaps its just the dance".

You realise that sleep envelopes you. You know you will sleep like a log today. After a very long time.

And as you slip into sleep...you mumble..."Perhaps, perhaps... its just the drums."

(Written after attending the Powai Durgotsav '09. Danuchi Dance. Friday. 25th Sept '09. All snaps from the event)

Its not the drum !

Powai Durgotsav '09 !

Durga Puja has been a festival of intrigue and great happiness. The pomp, the revelry. The gathering. And ofcourse, art and culture. All are on display here ! Check out last year !

At Powai there is this wonderful recreation of the 'Sun Temple' at Konark ! Here are some pictures ! All structures here are made out of Plaster, thermocol and wood. And to be dismantled in a weeks time !

Yesterday, there was 'Anondamela'. Where people sold stuff that made at home. ( stuff as in 'food')!



For a southerner like me, to see chicken Kababs and Fish fry sold in the same venue where there is a 'puja' on, to put it mildly, is strange. But then, when they are sold and they look delicious, they are to be had ! You bet they were delicious.

By the time we reached, there was gathering on stage. And was this mention by a gent ( i don't know who he was ) about the Times of India carrying a bigger photograph of the Powai puja, than the one at Lokhandwala.

I wonder why that should matter. About being better than Lokhandwala ! Or about... TOI....But quite a lot of people were happy. And they all clapped. Sure there must be reason.

They have an interesting array of programs on the menu over the next few days ! Do catch a glimpse !



While the pictures speak for themselves on what you probably will find there, i can tell you, the festive air and the spirit of the Pujo are to be experienced to be believed !

Powai Durgotsav '09 !

Lakeside ticket to Mars !

1

Theres Powai, in Mumbai. And theres a lake out here. Called, what else but, Powai lake ! Fortunately, it has not ( yet ) attracted the attention of politicians or they would have named it after a great grandson of a bloke in power, who is yet to be married !

That's another story. Yes. No politics here.

The lake is an artificial lake, created in 1799 ! Its part of the ten major lakes in the country that have been identified for revival and improvements. Blessed be those souls who made such an identification.

And God bless the other lakes !


And more importantly, its a beautiful visual treat. And yes, its close to home !

2

The Indian Institute of Technology has been in the news. For a variety of reasons. The IIT-B was founded in 1958 ! And has produced some fantastic prodigies ! Who contributed to get the alumni building and such else! Where Gulmohar, the cafeteria rocks.




The campus of course has wonderful settings. With fountains, walkways, lake views, and of course, the wonderful Powai lake !



There are stone benches. To sit down and catch the breeze laden with moisture from the lake. For the mind to stay open i guess. And the eyes to catch the pretty girl. Or handsome boy, for that matter !

3

NASA is carrying names of some people, on a microchip. My nephew's name is going too. And this nephew of mine knows a thing or two about colours too.


For a young thing that's barely getting to walk, the Mars must be over the moon ! What a gift for him, and that too, courtesy, this blog ! I am not sure of my nephew but i sure am over the moon !

1,2,3

We met again. The bloggers. Like the last couple of times.

What could i do ?

I had to write about the Powai Lake, IIT and the gifts my nephew got ! Everything else has been blogged about.

Here.
Here.
Here.
Here !

To Suranga ( of the 'colourful ticket to Mars' fame) , Vivek, Manju, Sucharita and Harekrishnaji, a big thank you.

The next meet is in December. Tomorrow, the car goes for servicing. The trousers will go for pressing. I am getting ready. I sure will be on time ! The next time !

Lakeside ticket to Mars !

The 24 ways !

Flowers fascinate. The whorls. The colour. The splendour of the bloom. The fragrance for the bee. The soothing for the eye. The subject for poets. As symbols of love. Sorrow. Happiness. And so on.

For my part, i have always loved flowers. And plants as well. As earlier stated, the Madurai Malli has been a personal favourite.

Many a picture has been clicked from my camera. Many an incomplete poem resides : half in paper, half in my mind. A few posts have also found their way on to this blog ! Today, i was in an institution where i spotted this.


And of course, wondered, if i can ever continue to do all what i do. Read that carefully. There are twenty-four items that the reader is asked not to do. This left me staring in open mouthed awe.

If you really wanted to do something bad to a flower or a plant, you could. Couldn't you ! But, in 24 different ways ! Phew !

I wonder if all of this was thought through and made at one go. Or one statement over a period of time, has expanded to become as all-encompassing as possible !

And that includes 'borrow, break, pinch..' etc. The essence however resides in the last line. Which states 'touch' ! But wait a minute. How can you borrow, break, pinch, endanger, mutilate etc...without touching ?

Maybe..maybe...

Did they get to see my snaps ? Or worse, did they read my poems ? Did someone complain ? Or are there many like me ?

And i thought, the only thing that you could do with a flower was to let it be ! Ssshhh..! Dont say that aloud. Twenty five ways' has a nice ring to it.

Twenty four ways are scary enough !

The 24 ways !

Still standing

These are not buildings with architectural significance ! But then, like every other building they hold in them a history. A tale. Perhaps two.

These were used as car garages. Many many years ago. In these 'sheds', as they were called, many an Ambassador or a Premier Padmini would stand. In the company of a slew of bikes. All from the housing colony over there.

And so these sheds shielded those vehicles that were owned with great pride. Sometimes to get people around. Many other times, to just keep up with the Joneses !

There were a motley crew of incorrigible kids who thought of this 'shed' with greater affection. For it was part of their life for most of their day. And dreams too.


These are snaps that were clicked a few months back. For at the side of these 'sheds' do you see those 'stumps' drawn.

Cricket !!!

Yes. Those three vertical lines, topped with one horizontal connection ? They were drawn with charcoal. A bowler of any merit, in the local community of local kids, gunned for those stumps.

The boundary was the road. The sixers meant broken glass panes. Tennis ball. Wooden bat. Teams. Matches. Challenges. All there.

There was no third umpire. There was no umpire in the first place. As kids, things were sorted out, mostly in a jiffy. Arguments. Fights. Sometimes walk outs. All would happen. But the game had to go on.

Kids didn't play for honour or advertisements. Every kid played there, for cricket was life. Cricket was fun. Cricket defined. And cricket helped connect to other kids.

Many years later, those garages still stand. No longer are cars parked inside. They still stand though, with perhaps a thousand memories. Of kids, who live adult lives elsewhere.

The garages still hold evidence of their creativity. Of their ability to sort out things between themselves. And move on to the next match.

And perhaps those garages wonder, how different these kids grow up to be. With degrees in the pocket, jobs and routines as life. Treating cricket as a spectator sport. And somewhere, living life by rote.

Does this remind you of a different time. When passion ruled. The possessions were few. The heart was light. Losses never mourned. Fights were resolved. Smiles prevailed.

hmm..

Give me some company, will you. I'll get the bat and the ball. We'll have a heck of a match. And more importantly, a heck of a time.

You see, the stumps..they are still standing.

Still standing

Restrictions

Paying Guest. In my humble opinion, that's an oxymoron. For guests don't pay. Are not expected to. Never. At least that's my belief. And generally spoken word too.

What gets passed off as 'PG' accommodation these days can be best called a hostel in most cases. Perhaps 'Paying Guest' perhaps gives a ring of graduation to the professional world. Hostels are for college goers. (I havent seen any PG accommodation here in Mumbai so i have no idea of it here)

And perhaps also delivers another punch. With 'Payment' inherent in 'Paying guest' what it also perhaps signifies, is a degree of 'self respect' to the individual in question. That the stay is paid for !

Whatever be the logical reasoning around this, 'Paying Guest' continues to be an oxymoron, to me that is !

The world however moves on. Irrespective of what i think of as an oxymoron or otherwise. And PGs are advertised. Or... are they. Sample this.


These advertisements make the brain cells work. Wondering what is being communicated.

The ad on top. It talks about 'Males in Powai'. As though the males in Powai are a special species, looking for such accommodation. Perhaps Powai breeds such males. hmm. But look at what follows.

No Brokerage.
No Deposit
No Restrictions

So, for for males in Powai, i guess these are the three principal woes. Brokerage. Deposits. And restrictions.

Move on to the ad below.

Which introduces us to a new form of human life called 'Rentals'. What else would ' Boys & Girls & Rentals' mean ?

Hmm...they could some thing else as well, but hey, i am not going there at all.

But here again : 'No Brokerage No Deposit. No Restriction'. The brokerage and the deposit i can understand. But this 'No Restriction' business i find difficult. What kind of restrictions will boys and girls ( & rentals of course) usually suffer from, that would make them seek out such accommodation ?

Males in Powai, Boys, girls, rentals will be paying up. And staying as guests. With no deposits. And restrictions. Hmm.

I wonder why my mind is working this way. This post was supposed to be about the 'Paying Guest' being an oxymoron.

But you know, I am consciously practicing letting my thoughts flow on this blog. Without restrictions. Maybe thats why.

'No restrictions' for males in powai seems to be in. ahem.

Restrictions

Three Magical Words

You give me all of 20 minutes. That's it ? All of 20 minutes, to write out a blog post ? And this, after knowing how 'slow' i am. what would i do in 20 minutes.

A post for the anniversary should be 'proper' ! You know...!

I had wanted to write about our life in the last several years, with many pictures and anecdotes of your heroics from each year. After all these years, of course, i have a few stories and events from our lives.

The bank balance is in no shape to share. But we are richer in our stories though. And that's one thing to tell. Ones that cracked you up. Others that cracked me up. Yet others that just withered us down.

Of course, I had made a list of them. I am no good at lists. I know. But this one, i made. OK ? Really.




I thought of swinging a spin. To talk about the ring on your finger that i slipped in years back, losing shine, but the spirit and love just shining through. That would have been neat, i think.

I had even clicked a very rare picture of you reading The Economic Times, with the hand carousing the Mercedes ad. Now, i haven't yet quite figured how i would connect up 'Get Set. Drool'. And now, in 20 minutes, how would i weave that in ?

It was on my mind to write a few lines about what a sport you have been. In life, and generally too. As i pull your legs and extend it to the blog. And of course i wasn't going to mention the 'treatment' i get post such posts !

You bet, a prominent sub-topic, underlined and in blue, would be : acknowledgement of the trials and tribulations of living with a 'perpetually perplexed' chap !

Khalil Gibran was already looked up, for me to quote on what a delight of a friend and partner that you. In fact here is the link. And here too. For some reason, you do not like this man. I was contemplating between quoting him and annoying you. So, you know...there i am. At that at that crossroad. Yet again.

Of course, in that post, the culinary skills, and the filter coffee would have a deservedly large mention. Of 450 words each. Quite obviously, i wouldn't have talked about the odd day with extra salt or sugar and such other days that got classified as 'experiments'.

There was the other option too. Of a superb post. With mushy romantic stuff and lines stolen from ads and greeting cards. Lines like 'Oh how you complete me' ! Stolen, even though i mean it ! In humble acknowledgement of the fact that i cannot be 'romantic' to dance around trees with a song, like they do in Hindi movies. And by the way, where are the trees ?

My God, of that twenty minutes that you gave me, eighteen are actually gone. Now what would i do. You give me all of 20 minutes. That's it.

All of 20 minutes, to write out a blog post ? And this, after knowing how 'slow' i am. what would i do in 20 minutes. The dull dreary chap that i am. I could have done a lot more. But for now, i would leave you with those three magical words.

Words that set you afire. Magical words, that don't get purred into the ear, but said in the open. Yes, so this post could have been different. But with the 20 minutes that you gave me, these three words are just about what i can manage....






Its your fault !

Three Magical Words

The fruits of labour

There is something about whats available by the street, that excites the taste buds. Lets leave alone the samosas, jalebis and such else. Those deep fried grenades. That will sit two minutes on the lips, and blast into fragments that etch a permanent place on the hips.

This blog advocates healthy living and healthier eating !

So, Lets stick to, good for the body stuff : Fruits ! The varieties of fruits that are available for a roadside snack, is not only mind boggling but also, mouth wateringly awing.



For you could choose from Apples to Oranges. From Jack fruits to Mangoes. And from sweet ripe mangoes to unripe sour ones. And many more.

The mind wonders how it is with you. If you lay all these fruits side by side, and you were to pick one, which one would you choose ?

Ask that question in a MBA class and in nine cases out of ten, the answer begins with a 'it depends'. And dependencies will stretch from global warning to Bernanke to Osama Bin Laden !

Lets leave that aside. And think, which one would you choose ?

Well, actually.... hmm...it depends. On the weather. On the mood. On what was had before. On what is to be had just after. And so on. Hmm. The MBA types with their 'it depends' seem to have a point. After all !


My all time favourite though is this. Cut (artistically so). Salted. A little bit of chilly powder. Throw in some winter chill. Ooh my mouth is watering already.

In my 'wonder years', three slices of unripe mangoes came for a rupee. Of course salted with garnished with a dash of chilly powder. Of course, it was forbidden. By 'authorities' at home. And at school.

Of course, it was mentioned that it was unhealthy. Flies and 'exposed' food were topics discussed. In all classes. Including moral science ! (yes, we had a class called 'Moral Science!').

Of course, the security guards at school, would whack your behind if they spotted you any close to the mango vendor.

But then, that was the most delicious of fruits. For it came by saving up those small five paisa, ten paisa and 25 paisa coins. With a sprinkling of labour !

Of distracting the attention of security guards enough to sneak out and buy. Through pacts with others for a share of the bounty.

Some of it was redistributed. Never for money. But for the odd favour, like a deal with the boy who sat in the first row to carry an extra pencil for me. Always! And of course, there were girls. I leave it there.

After a while it all became boring. For, whats to be done exactly to distract the security guards was known. The negotiation with the vendor was fairly straight. So, pronto, the only thing that needed to be done, was to induct others into doing it.

The other day, a slice of cut mangoes caught the attention of the camera. A flood of thought came rushing back. It was sweet. And sour !

For along with the lip smacking taste, came the lessons: Maths. Thrift. Saving. Marketing. Distribution. Positioning. Induction. Team Working. Oh boy. That sounds like one heck of a MBA curriculum.

It disturbs me. To think, that i went through two years of studying a formal MBA after having gone some distance with it in class three!

The fruits of labour

Missed calls and milk !

a temple with a telecom tower as its backdrop
and a statue with the legendary conch at the front end. Kodai

There was a far away time when conches were blown to announce battle. Of course, pigeons flew with messages. The temple bell rang to announce day, and night.

Those were different times though. It must have been wonderful, to live in those times. In the midst of simple joys and comforts of nature.

Well, the conches, don't exist anymore. At least not as a communication tool. And definitely not to announce battle ! Pop corn fed pigeons don't carry messages. And living life by the bell happens largely in prisons !

But think of the modern day mobile phone. Isn't that a conch of some kind ? That which announces love, battle, news, net..what not ! A little stretched perhaps. But somewhere there !

There was a time, not very long ago, that a call on the mobile phone, used to cost Rs. 16/- a minute. These days, you can get by for months at that cost. Especially if you know of the "Great Indian Missed Call trick" !

The other day, the missus's mobile rang. One ring, two rings. And stopped. The missus looked at who is calling, and didn't pick up the call. But went about attending various chores.

Looking particularly puzzled, (which is a slightly different from the 'perpetually puzzled' look that the missus thinks is part of me), some sniffing around was done.

Only to find out, that two rings, at 9.00 AM, from the maid who comes to clean, translates to : "I would be late for work today".

Not a rupee spent. Message conveyed. To simplistic minds like mine, this sounds like the Chinese Army exchanging war messages !

And when friends tell me 'Give me a missed call. we'd come down to get you', the mind leaps in amusement. For, my elementary mind works this way : "a call can be made. To miss it or not, is the receiver to decide. How can a missed call be given?"

But with a 'missed call' pact like that, what they mean is 'when you call, i will be missing it...but i'll get the message that you are here' !

Zero cost ! Not that they are in abject penury. Or doing this blaming the economy. This has how it has been when Lehman brothers and the others were still standing.

So,if you are in India, and are wondering why call rates are going south, you know why. Don't you! There sure must be many reasons. But, my elementary mind thinks only of the great Indian missed call trick!

With the vegetable vendor to the CEO carrying phone, of course, we have one of the cheapest call rates in the world. Take a look.

A glass of tea is Rs. 5
A glass of milk is Rs. 10/-
A glass of badam milk is Rs.15/-

But down there...intercity dialing. All India..is 1 Rupee !

Here is a Choice. Between a glass of milk and ten minutes of talk on the phone ! My elementary mind stays with the mobile phone.

For with calls, you can miss them, and still convey the point. There is no point with spilt milk. Not even crying. Hmm.

I rest my case.

Missed calls and milk !

Ganesh Chatruti !! My word !

I had to publish this today. Now ! I gave my word, just an hour ago. To a policeman. And i am already late !

We are just back from visarjan. The 10 day long Ganesh Chaturti festival is through. Infact, its still happening, as i write this. And Mumbai celebrated it. In style ! The elephant God indeed has some fans !

Any festivity is a mood that i love to soak up . Whichever city. Mingle with the people. And watch life, as people go by. Or perhaps, watch people, as life goes by.

Here at the Powai lake, crowds jostled to take a closer look at the immersions. And seek blessings. I got better access than most others.

With T-shirt, camera, shorts and sandals, i guess, i must have looked like a TV journo indeed ! For, there he was, a friendly cop. Who asks me, "which TV channel are your from!?!"

And seeing my surprise, modifies his question : 'Ok, which newspaper ? Where will you publish all these pictures ? When will you publish the pictures ?"

I clear my throat. I tell him, Having this blog in mind, "This will be published on the Internet". He continues to stare into me. And i add, 'in half an hour'.

He perhaps had visions of 'Breaking News' and thought of himself to be a facilitator of such news. And waved me in. I was free to click !

I walked in. Beaming. Only to realise there already was a motley crew. Presumably from newspapers. For they had bigger and far more sophisticated cameras. Some tourists. And some other junta like me.. All clicking away.

So here are images. But they sure are not going to send in the images, like what i am doing now ! At this speed, that is !! That's for sure.

'Breaking News : Immersions happen in Powai Lake. As well'.

They have those huge cranes, that lift off the Ganpati idols that are brought in trucks. Taken to a deeper part of the lake and 'immersed' ! Its an an awesome sight.

The crowd, the trucks, the electric mood, the food, the noise, the lights, and of course, the policemen. Offer a unique Mosaic which is quite something. Indeed.

Here are some pictures.









Hmm. So, there. Thats Visarjan in Powai for you. I can sleep well. The word given to that policeman, is kept !

Regular posting, ofcourse, will resume shortly !

Ganesh Chatruti !! My word !

Loo business !

We were at Bryant Park. Kodai. It was a cold day, and we were slightly wet. Because of the rain. Nature was calling, and we had to attend !

So, we go around asking where the nearest 'toilet' is. The security guard says, 'ah Toilet-Bathroom' is on the other side'. And that 'toilet-bathroom' is said as one word. We had to struggle to pick it up !

We trudge the a small hillock to come in front of this 'toilet'.

Here is a rough translation.

Kodiakanal Municpality
Plan - - RSVY 2006 - 07 ( Tourism Development )
Task : Building of Ultra Modern Men's toilet
Estimate : Rs. 7.00 lacs

'Ultra Modern' and Rs.7.00 lacs, to me, meant a swank place with heavenly aroma, flowing water, soothing music, spic and span floor. Of course, i was disappointed. And let me leave it that, sparing you the more gory details.




In some distance , i spotted this 'Modern Mobile Toilet'. It must actually be written as Modern-Mobile-Locked-Toilet. For in the days that i was there, it never was open !

But its a good idea. I wonder, if they would attach it to a tractor or something, and go about town. Like a mobile library or something of that sort.

Hmm. I wonder, how this works.



At Madurai and some other places, i have seen pictures of Kareena Kapoor, Aishwarya Rai and hold your breath, Kate Winslet, promote bathrooms & toilets!

I haven't really understood this. To expect a man (or a woman) to get enticed by a Kate Winslet, on a Madurai street's hoarding to relieve himself or herself and have a bath....is a little far fetched. To my mind.

Irrespective of how much of a fan he or she is of Aishwarya and however many times he or she has seen the Titanic sink.... it does sound a little stretched that he or she will think of such women in a moment of 'urgency'.

Well meaning friends have told me that i read far too much into such things, and ask unnecessary questions. This is just differentiation, they tell me !

But please tell me, if there were two pay-for-use 'Toilet & Bathrooms' next to each other. One sporting a Aishwarya Rai on the hoarding, and another sporting a Kate Winslet....where would you go ?!?

I asked the same question to the missus. She for some reason said, 'HOME".

Loo business !