GYPSY - মিথানল cooking gas

* GYPSY

* JOHN PIPER * MARIA'S DIARY * 4 NIGHTS WITH THE DEVIL

BOYFRIENDS AND GIRLFRIENDS

All modern students have lots of boyfriends and girlfriends to pass time with enjoyably outside their homes and hostels, thanks to wily HUMAN-LOOKING aliens who have always tried to ruin the human race. - G

Lots of SEX goes on among those who scream loudly and theatrically about "protection" not being provided but are not interested in studies but only in cheating on exams. Fucking alien chatterboxes should be violently beaten up by the cheated public. - G

JNU

The conceited students and unscholarly faculty of JNU are a bunch of worthless good-for-nothing illiterate "leftist" pseudo-intellectuals who are wasting public money. (However, highly respected internationally famous historian the charming ex JNU Professor Romila Thapar - she speaks beautiful English - was an outstanding exception.)

Kishalay Sinha [G]

JOHN PIPER

I was curious to know the name of the preacher in the video series DESIRING GOD on YouTube, who looks like a CLONE of My expired "dad" Krishna. At first, I was very upset to learn from Internet sources that the preacher's name is John Piper because nowadays I connect John, author of Revelation, with noble Dr. Wilfred Funk. I was relieved to learn on looking up further Internet sources that the full name of John Piper is John Stephen Piper. WHAT A RELIEF! By the following CHAIN of association: Stephen - "Steve" - hippy Y - Peter - Devil (because Peter is called the "Devil" by Jesus in the Bible New Testament) - Peter Funk - "swindler" ("Peter Funk" is a synonym of "swindler" in Merriam Webster Collegiate Thesaurus), I realized that the abbreviated name John Piper could be intended to FOOL Me into believing that John Piper is John or Dr. Wilfred Funk or a clone of Dr. Wilfred Funk whereas he is in fact a clone of Krishna. (Voltaire, Pope Leo X, and writer Nirad Chandra Chaudhuri all looked like Krishna.) Another alternative is that (the late?) Dr. Wilfred Funk/John/Adam and My recently expired late "dad" Krishna were TWINS (Dr. Wilfred Funk is/was [if late] an American, late Krishna was an Indian), just as Adam and the evil rapist anti-God Lucifer were perhaps both sons of God and were perhaps twins. However, I suspect that the actual truth is that John Piper or John Stephen Piper is NOT RELATED to John OR to Stephen BUT he is in fact A BACKUP CLONE OF late Krishna.

This is a world of deception and treachery. No name is as simple as it seems. No one should ever be taken for granted.

Kishalay Sinha [G]

MARIA'S DIARY

From Maria's diary:

I don't know what he [He] must have thought when he [He] opened the door that night and saw me standing there, carrying two suitcases. 'Don't worry,' I said, 'I'm not moving in.' He didn't say anything, just helped me in with my luggage. Then, without saying 'how lovely to see you', he [He] simply put his [His] arms about me and started kissing me and touching my body, my breasts, my crotch [v.], as if he [He] had been waiting for this a long time.

He pulled off my jacket and my dress, leaving me naked, and we made love for the first time. He lay me down on the floor and entered me. I liked it like that, because he [He] obviously understood that I was his [His] and that he [He] didn't need to ask permission. I wasn't there in order to prove that I was more sensitive or more passionate than other women, I was there to say yes, you're welcome [You're welcome], that I too had been waiting for this, that I was pleased about his [His] total disregard for the rules we had created between us and that he [He] was now demanding that we should be guided solely by our instincts, male and female. I wanted him [Him] inside me, because he [He] was the man [Man] I had never possessed and would never possess again. That is why I could love him [Him] with all my energy, and have, at least for one night, what I'd never had before and what I would possibly never have again.

We were in the most conventional of positions - me underneath him, with my legs spread, and him on top of me, moving in and out, while I looked at him, with no desire to pretend or to moan or to do anything, just wanting to keep my eyes open so that I could remember every second, watch his face changing, his hands grabbing my hair, his mouth kissing me. No preliminaries, no caresses, no preparations, no sophistication, just him inside me.

He came and went, quickening and slowing the rhythm, stopping sometimes to look at me too, but he didn't ask if I was enjoying it, because he knew that this was the only way our souls could communicate at that moment, and I knew that the eleven minutes were coming to an end, and I wanted them to last forever, because it was so good - ah, dear God, it was good - to be possessed and not to possess! And we seemed to move into a dimension in which I was the great mother, the universe, the beloved, the sacred prostitute of the ancient rituals that he had told me about. I saw that he was about to come, and his arms gripped mine, his movements increased in intensity... I felt immense pleasure, because this was how it had been since the beginning of time, when the first man met [and had sex with] the first woman and they made love for the first time.

Ah, you have no idea how much I love you. I think that perhaps we always fall in love the very first instant we see the man of our dreams. That happened on the night when I walked barefoot in the park, cold and in pain, but knowing how much you loved me.

Yes, I love you very much, as I have never loved another man... you are a man in the most beautiful, intense sense of the word. You've supported and helped me. I loved the cold floor, your warm body, the force with which you entered me.

I went to take back [return] my library books today, and the librarian asked if I talked to my partner about sex. I felt like saying: Which partner? What sort of sex do you mean?

I've really only had two partners: one [Satan/Snake/Kr.] who awoke the worst in me, because I let him and even begged him to. The other one, you [You], who made me feel part of the world again. I would like to be able to teach you [You] where to touch my body, how much pressure to apply, for how long, and I know you [You] would take this not as a criticism, but as another way to improve communication between our souls. The art of love is like your painting [word painting], it requires technique, patience, and, above all, practice by the couple. It requires boldness, the courage to go beyond what people conventionally call "making love".

The teacher in me was back but [He] knew how to take control of the situation. Instead of agreeing with me, he [He] said: '... we're going to make love again. And I'd like you to understand men better too.'

Understand men better? I spent every night with them, whites, blacks, Asians, Jews, Muslims, Catholics, Buddhists. Didn't [He] know that?

I felt lighter; I was so pleased that the conversation had shifted into being a discussion. At one point, I even considered asking God's forgiveness and breaking my promise.

'Yes, to understand men better,' said [He] again, seeing the doubtful look on my face. 'You talk about your female sexuality, about helping me [Me] to find my [My] way around your body, to be patient, to take time. I agree, but has it occurred to you that we're [I am] different, at least in matters of time [!!]? You should complain to God about that. When we met, I asked you to teach me [Me] about sex, to give the women I loved the same amount of pleasure they gave me [Me].'

I didn't like the sound of 'the women I loved', but I feigned indifference.

'Why is it that men only think about sex, instead of doing as you [You] did with me and finding out how I feel?'

'Who said we [I] only think about sex? Have you ever stopped to think about the feelings of the men you've been to bed with?'

'Yes, I have. They were all insecure. They were all afraid.'

'Worse than afraid, they were vulnerable. They didn't really know what they were doing, they only knew what society, friends and women themselves had told them was important. Sex, sex, sex, that's the basis of life, scream the advertisements, other people, films, books. No one knows what they're talking about... all they know is that it has to be done. And that's that.'

I drew him [Him] to me because life had taught me many things. In the beginning, everything was love and surrender. But then the serpent [Lucifef/Satan/Kr.] appeared and said to Eve: what you surrendered [the freedom to have extramarital sex], you will lose [the freedom to have extramarital sex]. That is how it was with me - I was driven out of paradise and ever since then, I have been trying to find a way of telling the serpent [Satan/Kr.] he was wrong, that living [living like the faithful wife Sita] was more important than keeping things to yourself [cheating on my husband and having extramarital sex with Another Guy and not telling my cheated husband about it].

I knelt down and gradually took off his [His] clothes, and I saw his penis, sleeping and unresponsive. I kissed the inner part of his legs. His penis slowly began to respond, and I touched it, then put in my mouth ... [My gosh. Unthinkable.]... He penetrated me slowly and unhurriedly this time. I felt him inside me, I was aware of his hand on my breasts, my buttocks, touching me [tenderly] as only a woman knows how. Then I knew that we were made for each other...

As he simultaneously penetrated and touched me, I felt that he was doing this not only to me, but to the whole universe. We had time, tenderness and mutual knowledge. I entered a place where everything seemed at peace. I knew God.

Then I felt him beginning to move inside me again, although his hand had still not stopped, and I said 'Oh God', and surrendered to whatever came next, Heaven or Hell.

It was Heaven. He was thrusting faster and faster now, he and I were one person. I allowed him to penetrate me for as long as it took; his nails were now digging [?!!] into my buttocks, his breathing growing ever faster [!], my sex [v.] beating hard against his [p.], flesh against flesh. And I came at the same moment he came... It wasn't eleven minutes, it was an eternity, it was as if we had both left our bodies and were walking joyfully through the gardens of paradise. I don't know how long it lasted, but everything seemed to be silent, at prayer, as if the universe and life had ceased to exist and become transformed into something sacred, nameless and timeless.

I embraced him and he embraced me. I was still filled by a sense of plenitude, as if I had always been a wise, happy, fulfilled woman.

'What made you fall in love with a prostitute?'

'I didn't understand it myself at the time. But I've thought about it since, and I think it was because, knowing that your body would never be mine alone, I had to concentrate on conquering your soul.'

'Weren't you jealous?'

[God has zero feeling. God has never participated in imaginary wish-fulfilment stories such as above; He never "falls in love" with any female, whether formally a prostitute or not, in the above manner. What does "conquering your soul" mean? Sex is not the be-all and end-all of His life; for Him, the ceaseless pursuit of knowledge is extremely important. - G]

(From Paulo Coelho's erotic novel "ELEVEN MINUTES", translated into English from the original Portuguese by Margaret Jull Costa.)

Peter Hockley: "THE MAN WHO MET THE DEVIL - TRUE STORY - FOUR NIGHTS WITH THE DEVIL" (YouTube)

Peter's "God"-loving wife told him that the Man he met and spent four nights with was the "Devil". Treachery is an INBORN characteristic of all female honeytrap spies and double agents like the "strip tease" prostitute Eve alias Mata Hari described in Paulo Coelho's novel "THE SPY" (a novel based on REAL events), translated from the Portuguese by Zoe Perry. I am sure that the strip tease dancer and double agent "Mata Hari" was NOT shot dead as reported - or if shot dead she must have been REVIVED in secret like Las Vegas mass murderer Stephen - "Mata Hari" changed herself into a baby girl (as in the numerous repeated "reincarnations" of Eve over billions of years and into Margaret Elizabeth Noble into Sister Nivedita into ...) and then lived (perhaps as an adopted baby girl) and grew up in a family (perhaps the "American" family of chameleon NL/Sw. Viv.) which was aware (or maybe unaware but much more likely to have been aware) of her secret identity (cf. the Bengali bride-to-be "Sita" in the novel "CONFESSIONS OF AN INDIAN WOMAN EATER" by Sasthi Brata, author of "MY GOD DIED YOUNG"; both novels published by Penguin, with SCANDALOUS NUDE SKETCHES on the cover).

Kishalay Sinha [G]

GYPSY

New York, 1970's. When a girl's body, neatly sliced into six individual pieces, is discovered at the scene of a car crash, the driver [Nanoosh] is posthumously accused of her murder. But Roman Grey, an expert in gypsy antiques and former friend to the driver [Nanoosh], knows there is more to the case than the convenient closing of a crime file.

The police are determined to pin the blame on a gypsy. Desperate to avoid the dark magic he knows will be invoked in a confrontation between the police and New York's gypsy community, Roman vows to unearth the truth about the murder and clear his friend's name, no matter what the cost ... [Brief summary on the cover of Martin Cruz Smith: "GYPSY IN AMBER" (A Roman Grey novel), SIMON & SCHUSTER].

Excerpts from the novel:

God had made Man in His image, Roman had heard. He wondered which god would claim the body on the aluminum table.

'Caucasian female, age approximately twenty to twenty-five. Hair brown, eyes blue.' The medical examiner spoke into a microphone clipped onto the lapel of his white smock. A wire from the microphone led to the tape recorder in a roomy pocket.

'The body has been dismembered into six separate parts,' he went on in a monotone. 'All the teeth are present, although there are silver fillings on each of the upper right molars. There is a small, old diagonal scar under the chin. No digits are missing. There is some bruising of tissue on the knuckle of the fourth metacarpal, where a ring has been removed while alive or shortly afterward. There are no other scars, birthmarks or moles.'

There were four men around the table. Roman wasn't a weak man; he'd seen death before. But the others, including Sergeant Isadore, had professional objectivity to fall back on. Roman didn't, and the disassembled horror of the sterile room was a revelation to him [revelation reminds Me of Revelation in the Bible. - G]. He'd never considered that parts put back together, the human body resembled a mis-shapen octopus more than anything else.

The examiner had pulled back a flap of scalp and sawed through the skull for the brain. One cuff raised an eyelid to reveal a blue eye that stared at Roman with a madly askew iris.

'There is no sign of hematoma.'

The brain was weighed and deposited in a glass jar. The examiner's assistant wrote out a label, licked the label and applied it to the jar.

'You've got to admit it's easier this way,' the assistant said as he brushed the [dismembered] legs and arms to one side.

The examiner opened the chest cavity and removed the heart and lungs and studied the interior of the cavity for fractured ribs. As a team, he and the assistant cut out the intestinal tract, the liver, spelen, pancreas and kidneys. When they had finished examining them, they placed the organs in glass-top fruit jars and sealed the tops with wax. The assistant wrote out more labels while the examiner drew blood for a typing.

The police reported the girl had come from the Cadillac Eldorado driven by Nanoosh Pulneshti. Nanoosh had started from Montevideo, Uruguay, gathering pieces for Roman. In Cuzco he bought Incan statuettes, in Manaus a crate of ...

'No spermatozoa,' the assistant said after looking at a smear under the microscope.

'Can you give me a closer age, Doctor?' Isadore asked.

The examiner prodded the jaw open again while the assistant held the head steady.

'From the wear on the teeth' - he cut a thin line into the gum - 'and the immaturity of the roots of the third molar, I would venture closer to twenty years than twenty-five.' He pushed the jaw closed and shrugged. 'She's not a virgin, but she's never borne a child or had an abortion. No evidence of drugs. Hardly any cavities. She must have been a clean liver.'

Isadore had brought Roman down to identify Nanoosh in his stainless-steel filing cabinet. Roman didn't know what the point was in asking him to witness this gruesome theater. He refused to watch, looking instead at the tile floor with its black borders.

'Rigor mortis has set into the entire body. Since the face is still rigid, the victim may have been dead for from eighteen to twenty-four hours.'

Roman cried for Nanoosh, for the arrogance and daring reduced to a filing drawer. But this was another kind of reduction beyond grief, the butcher's secret.

'There are nine great wounds of dismemberment. Since there is a lack of bruises or lacerations to indicate a struggle, it is likely that separation of the head was first. The wound entry is from the back of the neck at the second cervical vertebra. [I am reminded of My LATE brother (who was five years younger than Me) Kirity Sinha whose death in 2006 was reported to us to have been CAUSED BY A "ROAD ACCIDENT" on G.S. Road whereas I am sure that My brother was MURDERED by goons as can be EASILY VERIFIED by studying satellite videos of the goons collectively murdering him on the road; the murderers can be EASILY IDENTIFIED. The vehicle in which My brother was going back from Guwahati to Silchar after attending an office meeting in Guwahati was COMPLETELY CRUSHED, but I am sure that this was a clever RED HERRING TO MISLEAD US because I observed that the CRUSHING OF THE VEHICLE had NOTHING TO DO with My brother's premeditated MURDER on the road by HIRED GOONS who HIT HIM violently on the head with a heavy weapon. The badly fractured driver cried and told us on his death bed in Shillong Civil Hospital how he regretted he could not save My brother [from the murderers he fought]. WHO ORDERED My BROTHER'S MURDER? WHO WERE THE KILLERS WHO MURDERED MY BROTHER? Were one or more goons KNOWN to My brother WHO DID NOT SUSPECT THEM? Did the goons jab hypodermic needles into My brother etc. TO INJECT ANESTHETICS into their bloodstream and make them fall unconscious and then hit them violently on the head and legs with heavy blunt weapons? Was Raja/Kall. Kir./clone of Sw. Viv./NL one of the murderers? - G]... death was instantaneous. The weapon used was sharp, clean and heavy and used with great force. There is no indication of a second blow... The wound entries for dismemberment of the arms are at the armpits ... again there is no indication that more than one blow was used.

'The patella was shattered in each leg in the separation of the thighs from the calves.

'Separating the thigh from the pelvis was not such an easy matter... several blows were necessary to disengage the femur from the pelvis.

'There are no in-and-out wounds to describe the assailant's weapon. There are no marks indicating a point on it. The assailant appears to have had a basic knowledge of anatomy and great strength. There are no hesitation wounds.'

At the end of all this the examiner paused and glanced at Isadore. His assistant was at the ready, rolling forward a tray with its container of formalin, alcohol and carmine to embalm the parts. Isadore stopped the tray. He took a toothpick and ran its flat end under the girl's polished fingernails. He held the toothpick up to the light and inspected it.

'Nothing. [No pieces of the skin of the assailant found under her nails indicative of her fighting the assailant with her nails? - G]. She didn't suspect a thing. She thought she was with a friend.'

'Is that all, Sergeant? We'd like to clean up.'

'Hold it.' He gestured for Roman. 'One last thing.'

Roman stood next to Isadore above the cool table with its display of meat.

'Is she Gypsy?' Isadore asked.

There was no way of avoiding it now. Roman looked, concentrating on minute points, refusing the whole. Finally, he looked at the fingernails Isadore had just held.

'No. There'd be a brown moon around the cuticle ar the very least.'

'Then how do you explain it?' Isadore asked.

'Explain what?'

'How she could think your friend Naroosh was her friend?'

Roman didn't know what to say. Isadore was Roman's friend, too.

(From Martin Cruz Smith: "GYPSY IN AMBER - A Roman Grey novel", SIMON & SCHUSTER.)

Kishalay Sinha [G]

SCARED GENIUSES - I don't know why the fantastic geniuses seem to be so scared of Me. - G

Tabu breaking down - Taboo breaking down?

চি ইউ ৰমণ (C. U. Raman) - নে চি ভি ৰমণ (C. V. Raman)?

I don't know why many Indians pronounce the English letter V as if it is the letter U (though no Indian would pronounce v_g_na as u_g_na, I am sure).

RT channel is often very interesting.

Kishalay Sinha [G]

মিথানল cooking gas

APL (Assam Petrochemicals Ltd.) cheap মিথানল methanol cooking gas অসমত? For the first time in Asia? (DY 365)

Kishalay Sinha কিশলয় সিনহা [G]

এইবেলি f. "মা" দুৰ্গতিনাশিনী ধৰালৈ কেনেকৈ নামিব ? - what will be the mode of transportation of the f. "goddess" according to f. aliens? - boat, horse, lion, ass, rocket, f. ISRO Mars Orbiter/other f. "ISRO orbiter", dangerous ভুটভুটী? What do f. male and female alien cheats say? - G