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Des Pardes Ent.
The Bird with two necks
Once upon a time there lived a special kind of bird which had two necks and
shared a common stomach.

One day, one of the heads found a jar of nectar, and on seeing this the other
head also wanted to taste the nectar but the first neck refused to let it have it.
Enraged, the other neck soon found a jar of poison and it consumed it. The poison
reached the common stomach and both the necks perished.

MORAL: Sharing of a good thing with others is always good.
An elderly man went to a doctor with multiple complaints.
"I see spots before my eyes," he said.
"It's due to old age," said the doctor.
"No food agrees with me," said the man.
"That too is due to old age," said the doctor. "The digestive system becomes
weaker as we grow older."
"My back is giving trouble," persisted the man. "Sometimes the pain becomes
unbearable." "Old age," said the doctor.
This was too much for the man.
"Why do you go on saying 'old age, old age'," he screamed. "If you cannot cure me, say so. I'll go elsewhere."
"See how easily you lost you temper," said the doctor. "That is another characteristic of old age."
An Old Joke
An Italian, a Scotsman, and a Chinese fellow were hired at a construction site. The foreman pointed out a huge pile of sand and
told the Italian guy, "You're in charge of sweeping." To the Scotsman he said, "You're in charge of shoveling." And to the Chinese
guy, "You're in charge of supplies."
He then said, "Now, I have to leave for a little while. I expect you guys to make a dent in that there pile."
The foreman went away for a of couple hours, and, when he returned, the pile of sand was untouched. He asked the Italian, "Why
didn't you sweep any of it?" The Italian replied, "I no hava no broom. You said to the Chinese fella that he a wasa in a charge of
supplies, but he hasa disappeared and I no coulda finda him nowhere." Then the foreman turned to the Scotsman and said, "And
you, I thought I told you to shovel this pile."
The Scotsman replied, "Aye, ye did lad, boot ah couldnay get meself a shoovel! Ye left th' Chinese gadgie in
chairge of supplies, boot ah couldnay fin' him either." The foreman was really angry by now and stormed off
toward the pile of sand to look for the Chinese guy.

Just then, the Chinese guy jumped out from behind the pile of sand and yelled...
China Man
The Best Artist
A despotic sultan who was blind in one eye invited three artists to paint his picture.
“If you do a bad portrait, I will punish you,” he warned, “ but if you do a good one I will reward you.

Now start!”

The first artist produced a picture that showed the sultan as he was: blind in one eye.
The sultan had him executed for showing disrespect to his monarch.
The second artist showed him with both eyes intact.
The sultan had him flogged for trying to flatter him.
The third artist drew him in profile, showing only his good eye.
The sultan, pleased, rewarded him with gold and honours.
The Policeman couldn't believe his eyes as he saw the woman drive past him, busily knitting.
Quickly he pulled along the vehicle, wound down his window and shouted "Pull over!"

"No" she replied, "they're socks!"
Women drivers...Need we say more?
God Bless us all...also me and my
I wish I had these glasses when
I was in school!!
WHAT!!!??? There's more to life than eating and sleeping???
No  Way!!!
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Akbar & Birbal - Beaten By The Cane
Bashir was leaving home. No one in the family understood him
anyway. And he was sure no one would miss him. Not his Ammi
or Abbu, nor his bhaijaan Khalid. Only his dog Chand would
think of him, so to save him the pain, Bashir was taking Chand
along with him. In this big wide world, there must be some
place where a heart broken seven year old boy and his dog
could live in peace. Emptying out his school satchel Bashir
packed a pair of shorts and his best blue shirt. He and Chand
would need to eat something. So he stole two pieces of fish
and a boiled potato from the kitchen and stuffed them in a side
pocket. Finally he added a pencil to write letters home and a
half-melted candle for the night. All the pocket money he had
knotted into a handkerchief.

It was the pocket money that had started all the trouble that
morning. Like every Friday, Abbu had given him two rupees to
spend. Now Bashir wanted to buy that fantastic racing car he’d
seen at the toy shop. He’d even gone and asked the price.
Now all he wanted was a loan of his pocket money for the next
fourteen weeks. But Abbu wouldn't give it to him. So Bashir
was going away.
Carrying his satchel, Bashir opened the front door and stepped into the gali and began walking towards the main Chandni Chowk road.
At the corner, the paanwalla Munnelal looked up from putting lime on a row of paan leaves and said, "Arrey Bashir ustad, where are you
going? Isn’t it summer holidays in your school?"

"Yes." said Bashir shortly, "I’m going somewhere else."

"Achha! Where?"

"To the railway station." sighed Bashir, tiredly dropping the satchel at his feet. "Alone?" Munnelal scratched his chin. "Are you by any
chance running away from home?"
"Yes", said Bashir bravely.Munnelal glanced behind Bashir, gave a mysterious shake of his head
and then to Bashir’s surprise said, "Good. Have a good trip."

With his head reeling a bit, Bashir picked up his satchel. He’d always thought Munnelal was his
friend but he seemed he didn’t care either. Whistling to Chand, Bashir trudged on.

A few yards down the gali, outside her door Bannobibi sat pounding masalas. As they were going
past, Chand gave her a friendly bark. Bannobi looked up and with a big smile showing her paan
stained teeth said, "Bashir raja, where are you going?"

"I’ve left home."

"Oh? But why beta?"

"Nobody cares. They won’t help me buy that racing car and I want the money as a loan anyway."

"So you’re running away".

"Quite right".
Bannobi looked thoughtfully down the gali behind Bashir and then touching his cheek with fingers stained yellow from the haldi said,
"Khuda hafiz beta. Have a good journey", and then she laughed.

Bashir felt his heart break. His family, even his friends in the mohalla, he didn’t know they were such hard-hearted people. Here was a
sad seven year old going away forever and all they said was khuda hafiz! Suppose he got lost? Suppose he was kidnapped by robbers?
Or someone stole his bag and left him to starve?

As Bashir reached the last stretch of the gali, his steps got slower and slower. Would no one ask him to think again about going away?
Beg him to stay? Finally he was at the end of the lane. With his eyes blurring with tears, Bashir looked back for the last time. There was
the kulfi shop and his friend Khuttan’s house above it. Goodbye! Then the kite shop where you got those beautiful marbles. Goodbye.
And goodbye Munnelal and Bannobi. And Ammi and Abbu and… Bashir sniffed.

As he stood there, suddenly Chand was streaking away from him down the gali back towards their home. It looked like even his faithful
Chand wasn’t interested in going with him. Bashir blinked to clear his eyes of tears. Then he blinked again. Who was that? Wasn’t that a
familiar face riding Abbu’s old bicycle down the lane towards him? He and his bhaijaan Khalid had been following him all along?

With Chand doing a dance of delight around him, Khalid peddaled up to Bashir and stopped. He looked down solemnly at Bashir’s tear
stained face and then asked gently, "The railway station Bashir Mia? Or the airport?"

"Home", said Bashir, scrambling on to the front rod.
Bashir Leaves Home