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Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Very Creative PJ's

Creative PJ's
​(Sent by a lady journalist)
Pankaj fell in love
Pankaj married
Pankaj divorced
Pankaj udaas
Sonia was walking.
Sonia slipped.
Sonia fell into the drain.
Sonia Gandhi 

Sameera went to a parlor
Sameera did her hair
Sameera did her makeup
Sameera Reddy

Kangana hit the ball
Kangana took a single
Kangana did not reach the crease
Kangana Ran
​ ​
aut.

Hrithik buys bulb
Hrithik puts bulb in socket
Hrithik switches bulb on
hrithik roshan

Lance arms weak.
Lance joins gym.
Lance does chin-ups.
Lance Arm
​ ​
strong
Poonam puts Chuna
Poonam puts Kathha
Poonam puts Gulkand
Poonam puts supari
Poonam Pan
​ ​
dey
Anil menbatti
Anil agarbatti
Anil dhoop
Anil kapoor

Umar walking on the road
Umar got kidnapped
Umar not found by family
Umar gul

Minisha purchased a cycle
Minisha started riding
​ ​
cycle
Minisha's height
​ ​
increased
Minisha lamba
William making fruit shake
William took pears
William put them in glass
William shakespeare

Mika went to studio
Mika went to recording room
Mika took the mike
Mika singh

nspecting Officers In The Fauj - Nostalgic


Hi 
This is the life we all have
lived ​
. You can't beat Army ( any where and any time ) for its bullshit and ingenuity. And, lest we forget, the writer has a way with his words!.


F
​wd​
 Mail​

 
One of my B
​attery ​
C
​ommander​
s wrote a very interesting piece. I am sure you will like it.



Begin forwarded message:


 
 
 
ARMY OF INSPECTIONS
The Divisional Commander was conducting his annual inspection of our brigade headquarters.
The ‘Camp’ had been cleaning their floors and vehicles for days, and the Brigade Staff had been busy wrapping our records, cooking up data, back dating and signing inspection sheets on registers, destroying obsolete files, and above all trying to keep themselves fit for the 2 mile BPET run.
On the day of inspection, the general marched into our commander’s office sat down on the low cushioned seat for the briefing. Once the waiter had done the formalities of tea, chicken sandwich, and roasted nuts, the general started.
“I hope none of your units are selling stuff to civilians from the CSD canteen,” GOC’s tone was more seeking an reassurance, rather than one of  ‘I know what you did last summer.’
Even if they did sell, any good commander would have confidently and emphatically said ‘NO, Sir.’
 
My undiplomatic one shot back “You are asking me? Your Divisional Troops are the ones doing it. My Brigade Major can show you the details.” While some staff officers were pushing their eyeballs back into their socket, others were cleaning their ears with their little finger to confirm if the ‘quote’ was from Ripley.
The security posts on the exits of the cantonment were all manned by soldiers from our brigade’s units. The sentries had been ordered to record the bills of CSD goods leaving the cantonment. The seven composition notebooks from the seven gates were promptly shown to a GOC. His face turned from orange to red to crimson in an instant like a damsel’s bare butt on Miami’s South Beach on a hot sunny day.
He got up dusting the sandwich crumbs on his uniform “I think I will need to take care of this issue first. The inspection is over.”
We didn’t know whether to smile or weep!
*****
​**************​
If ever there was one event that brought the most humour in any Army Unit, it is none other than the ‘inspections.’
A soldier, his weapon, and his unit, go through a gazillion inspections during his term in the army. After a few weeks, almost every soldier gets used this back breaking exercise, which always comes with some laughs thrown in.
Though, you tend to suffer when you are in the thick of it, it always is fun to look back and smile. It is more fun to see a group of unfortunate suckers being inspected by a lucky boss, and you are out by a safe distance. In every inspecting officer, there is always a thread of sadism, intellectual snobbery, superiority complex, and in some cases thirst for revenge. Some show it off, and some are subtle.
Most army officers are like the blind men who went to ‘see’ the elephant. A lot of us stop reading any printed material after the ‘hectic’ JC Course. The guys who manage ‘PCK’, manage avoid reading printed stuff even at Mhow. Some book worms continue to read the ‘essentials’ till the Staff College entrance examination. That is the time our learning from reading peaks.
Thereafter we tend to think our bookshelf and the black wooden box containing the precis, are ‘external hard drives’ of our brain. Our concepts of excellence and professionalism are stratified quite early in life. In every inspection, every commander seems to be seeking the one or two issues that he considers is essential for the unit to be ‘fit for war’.
Some commanders behave like ‘troops kitchen commanders’ and believe that 'Warcraft' is all about baking chapattis on the thickest griddle, and serving the thickest curry to troops. Some commanders are a little more polished, and act like ‘Officer Mess Sergeants’ who are picky about the silverware, dining cloth, and the ‘oiliness’ of French Fries and samosas served.
For some physically fit commanders, inspections are all about the 2 mile battle proficiency run.  For a few, it was all about accounting, while others are constantly searching for junk stores, saved rations and dust.
The truth seems to elude them, as it did for Buddha, Jesus, Mohammad, Nanak and Anna Hazare.
*****
Decades ago, I came across this eccentric commander with a German sounding name in Punjab. He was scheduled to inspect the Mortar Battery in his brigade on a particular day. To the ill luck of this Battery, a week earlier, its officers had a ‘celebration’ in a local hotel, and got into a scuffle, like in any bars near a military station. They had sullied the image of an honorable organization, and of a commander, wanting to become a two star general.
The Battery was up even before the ‘kook
​k​
ads’
of Punjab, and were ready for the ‘inspection’ at 0800 hours on the fateful day. The Commander was nowhere ‘on site’ or ‘in sight’. It appeared the trackers with radio sets posted on every mile behind some cover, had all gone silent. Around 1000 hours, the CO picked up both courage and telephone to check if the commander had forgotten, or had a heart attack, or something. After all, troops were waiting, and the snacks were getting cold.
“I am the inspecting officer. I will come at my convenience,” was the ‘courteous’ reply.
The officers and men stood waiting for the inspecting officer who could arrive anytime, like a mother-in-law whose Greyhound bus was held up in traffic on a New Jersey road closed by Governor Chris Christie.
The tea time passed, lunch time passed, afternoon tea passed, and even the dinner time was past. The Commander landed up at 2200 hours (yes, you read it right …at 10 PM).
“Switch off all electric lights. I want to see how well you are prepared for a blackout that precedes any war,” he commanded.
The lever on the transformer that supplied electricity to the whole Fort came down. ‘Poof’ went the lights, and out came all possible flash lights, lantern, petromaxes, candles, and even the improvised lamps the sentries used for sealing locks in the Quarter Guard. The Fort looked more like a medieval castle preparing for battle with Oliver Cromwell.
The first place the commander marched into was the ‘Technical Store’ that stored the prismatic compasses, binoculars, and other technical stuff that were supposed stay dry. He picked up a bag of ‘silica gel’ placed for absorbing moisture from the instruments, and asked for a knife.
One of the technical assistants flashed a blue ‘Prince’ blade that had outlived its shaving capability, and was retained for sharpening pencils. The commander grabbed the blade, and cut the silica gel bag, pointed at the crystals flowing out of the crack like diamonds from a UN Peacekeeper’s backpack, and yelled, “Have you seen this?”
How could any of those suckers have seen ‘that’, when ‘it’ came sealed in the cotton or muslin bags from Army Ordinance? Even the reader with 20/20 sight would not, if he had waited for 20 hours in #1 uniform the whole day, with no food or drink, in the near dark environment the furious commander had invoked.
There was a pin drop silence at the almost midnight hour. One could only hear the hoots of owls of Gobindgarh Fort.
“Yellow,” like a FIFA referee who had caught an erring footballer, the commander shouted. He threw the silica gel bag with the left over crystals with force at the Technical Assistant Sergeant as if he was stoning an adulterous woman in a country that was less than 30 miles away.
The other officers and men in the store and on the doorway effectively used the screen of darkness. The German’s shout was more powerful than the silica gel crystals that flew like ball bearings off a claymore mine.
“Your unit is not ready for my inspection,” he declared.
“Let me know when your unit is ready; I shall come back again,” he got into his black staff car like Douglas Macarthur leaving Corregidor.
In the following few weeks, he inspected the miserable unit three or four times, in similar fashion and at similar hours.
The mortar battery would have gladly fired a salvo on the brigade headquarters; but then their range was pretty limited, I presume.
The day the rascal commander was posted out, the Battery had a bara khana, a big meal or feast.
*****
​**************​
Guys who have served in mountain areas more than 10K feet above MSL would appreciate the menace of yaks. These animals have limited grazing grounds, and forage for food inside military lines too. Ignorant they are, they often defecate even near the ‘officers messes’ and ‘quarter guards.’ It is not possible to explain them that army camps already had enough bullshit, anyway.
It was inspection time in our unit.
“I do not want to see a single yak within 3 mile perimeter of the unit lines,” the worried CO told us in the preparatory meeting.
The regimental police section was augmented to extra strength, and pickets were posted in every possible entry route of these hairy beasts. Since the rehearsals started almost a week earlier, the approaching yaks were fended off by the stick wielding regimental police.
The whole camp looked clean, spic and span, sans the filthy yaks.
On the day of the inspection, the commander landed around noon. To our surprise his wife and children also accompanied him. For most of us it came as a happy surprise, for commanders tend to be a little casual and relaxed when their spouses are around. Also, since most uniformed men are generally henpecked, the lady’s program normally superseded the inspection program.
“These guys are visiting from Delhi. They wanted to see some yaks. So I brought them along,” he was all smiles.
Our jaws and testicles dropped at that very instant.
The regimental police sergeant was sent to pull back the posted sentries immediately. Like amorous guys whose wives reported of headaches every night, the yaks that had come knocking the doors in the morning, seeing the red arm banded sentries, had all retreated to safer pastures for the day. They too after all were Hinayana Buddhists, and had their dignity and pride.
The Regimental police were told to go in search of these absconding animals, and bring them for viewing by the commander’s children. It was difficult to explain the reason of contradictory orders to the baffled sentries. It was more difficult to say 'sorry' to the creatures that were turned away for a fortnight, and request them to come in immediately. They are no American girl friends anyway. Knowing our predicament it appeared the hairy rascals were playing hide and seek with our desperate sentries.
It was around four in the afternoon when one sentry managed to bring an animal to the unit. Pictures were taken alongside her, and our inspection was brought to a close.
I am sure the picture must be on the mantle of my commander’s home, with the pictured folk blissfully unaware of our state that day.
******
In preparation for most inspections, all army units resort to painting everything that moved, and applying a ‘red sand coating’ to anything that didn’t. Like we spread mulch around tree trunks here, Indian army units have a tendency to colour up the trunks of trees.
A friend of mine was the aide-De-camp to a general who was inspecting a unit. Even though everything looked good, nothing went right. The general was badly upset and screaming during the whole event.
When the general and ADC were leaving the unit, the general pointed to a tree trunk with red colour on it just next to the entry/exit gate and said, “That frigging tree got me upset, otherwise the unit is in good shape”!
Sun Tzu certainly could have said "The trick to a successful inspection............. know your enemy…the inspecting officer!!!"
*****
​*************​
If you believed that a Pope’s penis and man’s tits were the most useless things on earth, you haven’t seen the lineup of generators in Artillery and Signal regiments. They come in all shapes and sizes………………… 150W, 500W, 2.5KW ….and so on. These are meant to be used for charging radio batteries in remote posts. Most of them did not have electric start, and would need to start with a tugging rope. Adulterated gasoline, pathetic filters, rust, dirty sparking plugs, and long periods of stowaway, ensured they seldom started even with 20 pulls. That should explain the heavy hands and handedness of most Signal Sergeants. Even the ones that started seldom produced the voltage need for charging. They made more sound and smoke, than electricity. They would shiver and jump around like a naked man thrown inside an ice skating rink in the middle of winter in Siberia.
One of our commanders was extremely fond of these generators. Every unit he visited, he wanted these state of art noise makers to be laid out in a line, and started. Like Yehudi Menuhin conducting the philharmonic orchestra, he would admire and enjoy the strange music the scores of these whole body vibrators made. It was pure nightmare for the Signal sergeants to make sure all these machines start, especially at the most crucial hour.
The commander noticed that our signal sergeant was holding down one generator, his whole body shaking. he looked like a floor marshal of Indian parliament trying to restrain and over power a Seemandh
​a​
ra member, protesting against Tel
​a​
ngana. It was apparent that this generator was a ‘jumper’ who would shake out of the lineup. However, since the generator produced much less smoke as compared to the others, the commander left happy that his flock was battle worthy.
Later we learnt that the erring generator never started, and the Signal Sergeant was masquerading as if it was.
And you thought only women faked orgasms dude
​ ​
?

PUPPY FIGHT

http://goweloveit.info/entertainment/there-are-cute-puppies-in-the-world-and-then-theres-this-puppy/?utm_source=taboola&utm_medium=referral

HYDROGEN PEROXIDE v/s CLOROX

SHARING WHAT WAS SHARED WITH ME
 
 

This was written by Becky Ransey of Indiana, (a doctor's Wife), and I want to share it with you.

She was over recently for coffee and smelled the bleach I was using to clean my toilet and counter tops.

This is what she told me.

'I would like to tell you of the benefits of that plain little ole bottle of 3% peroxide you can get for under
 
$1.00 at any drug store. What does bleach cost?
My husband has been in the medical field for over 36 years, and most doctors don't tell you about peroxide.

Have you ever smelled bleach in a doctor's office? NO!!! Why? because it smells, and it is not healthy!

Ask the nurses who work in the doctor's offices, and ask them if they use bleach at home. They are wiser and know better!

Did you also know bleach was invented in the late 40's? It's chlorine, folks! And it was used to kill our
 
troops.

Peroxide was invented during WWI in the 20's. It was used to save and help cleanse the needs of our
 
troops and hospitals.

Please think about this:

1. Take one capful of peroxide (the little white cap that comes with the bottle) and hold in your mouth for 10 minutes daily, then spit it out. (I do it when I bathe.) No more canker sores, and your teeth will be whiter without expensive pastes. Use it instead of mouthwash.

2. Let your toothbrushes soak in a cup of peroxide to keep them free of germs.

3. Clean your counters and table tops with peroxide to kill germs and leave a fresh smell. Simply put a little on your dishrag when you wipe, or spray it on the counters.

4. After rinsing off your wooden cutting board, pour peroxide on it to kill salmonella and other bacteria.

5. I had fungus on my feet for years until I sprayed a 50/50 mixture of peroxide and water on them
 
(especially the toes) every night and let dry.

6. Soak any infections or cuts in 3% peroxide for five to ten minutes several times a day. My husband has seen gangrene that would not heal with any medicine but was healed by soaking in peroxide.

7. Fill a spray bottle with a 50/50 mixture of peroxide and water and keep it in every bathroom to disinfect without harming your septic system like bleach or most other disinfectants will.

8. Tilt your head back and spray into nostrils with your 50/50 mixture whenever you have a cold, plugged sinus. It will bubble and help to kill the bacteria. Hold for a few minutes, and then blow your nose into a tissue.

9. If you have a terrible toothache and cannot get to a dentist right away, put a cap full of 3% peroxide into your mouth and hold it for ten minutes several times a day. The pain will lessen greatly.

10. And of course, if you like a natural look to your hair, spray the 50/50 solution on your wet hair after a shower and comb it through. You will not have the peroxide-burnt blonde hair like the hair dye packages but more natural highlights if your hair is a light brown, reddish, or dirty blonde. It
 
also lightens gradually, so it's not a drastic change.

11. Put half a bottle of peroxide in your bath to help get rid of boils, fungus, or other skin infections.

12. You can also add a cup of peroxide instead of bleach to a load of whites in your laundry to whiten them. If there is blood on clothing, pour it directly on the soiled spot. Let it sit for a minute, then rub it and rinse with cold water. Repeat if necessary.

13. I use peroxide to clean my mirrors. There is no smearing, which is why
I love it so much for this.

14. Another place it's great is in the bathroom, if someone has been careless has peed on the floor around the toilet it's begun to smell of urine. Just put some peroxide in a spray bottle spray. In the blink of any eye all the smell will be gone the bacteria eliminated!

I could go on and on. It is a little brown bottle no home should be without! With prices of most necessities rising, I'm glad there's a way to save tons of money in such a simple, healthy manner! ' This information really woke me up. I hope you gain something from it, too.

Pass it on! Clorox vs peroxide VERY interesting and inexpensive.

Are you/ Can you be - Successful?



While working together in an Organization, we meet a lot of different types of people. With some we become best friends, with some we enjoy working professionally, with some we learn to work with in-spite of professional differences while some we come to despise and avoid all contacts with them.

Let me ask you –
“Are you liked by your colleagues”?

Usually the employees who display positive inter-personal and team bonding traits are the ones who are not only liked and respected more, but also these employees climb the Corporate Ladder much faster. These are the ones whom we call ‘Successful’.

Let me ask you again, at whichever phase  of career you may be at –
“Are you successful, as much as you wanted to be?”

If your answer is ‘Yes’, then I congratulate you.

If your answer is ‘No’, then take a look at this info-graphic from MaryEllen Tribby *. This info-graphic provides a handy tool for us to identify what are usually  ‘perceived’ as the personal factors related to being ‘Successful’.

You may not agree with a few points and in fact you may challenge the meaning of ‘Being Successful’ itself, yet the purpose of this effort is to kindle a culture based on ‘doing the right thing, always’. And then surely we will be ‘Successful’ too.
-         Corporate L&D Team

* InfoGraphic Source – Mary Allen Tibby (http://goo.gl/MrPPrI )
** The Info-graphic is attached too for ease of  printing
 
 
infographic-black-01.jpg

 Walking is the best possible exercise. Habituate yourself to walk very far.

Veterinary university sells cow urine, key to cancer cure

u may share it with your colleague
 


Veterinary university sells cow urine, key to cancer cure

DC | JOSE KURIAN | August 08, 2014, 04.08 am IST
Indigenous cow farm at KVASU, Pookkode, Wayanad (file picture)
Indigenous cow farm at KVASU, Pookkode, Wayanad (file picture)
Kozhikode: The next time you smell cow’s urine, realise that it has medicinal properties. The Arya Vaidya Sala, the prominent ayurveda treatment and research centre at Kottakkal, Malappuram, has been successfully using it in its medicines to treat cancer. And the urine is provided by the desi (indigenous) cow population of the Kerala Veterinary and Animal Sciences University’s cattle farm at Pookkode, Wayanad.
The first urine of the day collected straightaway from the cows without touching the floor is the major ingredient in countless traditional medicines for various ailments produced at AVS.
AVS chief physician Dr K. Muraleedharan told Deccan Chronicle that many medicines with cow urine as ingredient had been used to correct various health conditions of cancer patients.

ORIGINAL GREEN REVOLUTIONARY

Rare photos of Pandurang Khankhoje, an Indian revolutionary in 1920s Mexico
In exile far from home, a forgotten Indian rebel was photographed by the Italian artist Tina Modotti.


Photo Credit: Tina Modotti Archive

Many times it is not ties of blood that make a family: it is ideology, shared dreams, shared goals. This was to happen in the 1920s to three friends and comrades,companeros as it is said in Spanish, Tina Modotti, Diego Rivera and Pandurang Khankhoje coming from three different continents, but united in their lofty ideals to alleviate the ills of mankind.

The strange alchemy between the Italian photographer Tina Modotti, a woman before her time, a revolutionary and an artist par excellence and Pandurang Khankhoje, the Indian political exile and dedicated scientist is very difficult to define. Modotti had arrived in Mexico in the company of Edward Weston, the famous American photographer in 1923, and straight away plunged into the ebullient and vibrant artistic world of Mexico City. The Mexican tradition of muralist paintings and frescoes was revived by the vigourous work of painters like Diego Rivera. Modotti, an artist and photographer in her own right, posed for Diego Rivera in one of his major works for the murals of the School of Agriculture of Chapingo.  She was painted as "Germination" (1925) and the "Oppressed Earth",  depicting Modotti in all her sensual beauty; looking away, in a sense opposing her, were the political forces of the day.  Not since the Renaissance had any country seen such an explosion of art; the past history of a nation and the faces of the new order, the decadence of society and the struggles of the poor, depicted with all the force and expression where only truth can prevail.

The Mexican catalyst

Diego Rivera, the greatest Mexican painter and muralist, was the catalyst that brought these two interesting personalities together. Rivera had developed a fondness and respect for Khankhoje’s work and indeed small, but significant, agricultural details can be seen in some of his major works. After his return from Russia, the artist had developed an interest in the Russian Revolution and this was another common meeting ground with Khankhoje. Rivera supported the Free Schools of Agriculture started by the Indian and was one of its major patrons. It was only natural that Khankhoje, serving as a Professor of Genetics in the same school, would meet and interact with Rivera, as the artist had already painted him in his mural in the Ministry of Education.

Khankhoje, the central figure of the painting, is distributing bread to the lowliest and the poor, in what may have been an "allegory of the biblical Last Supper, or the multiplication of loaves", wrote the Mexican historian Eva Uchmany. The artist, the photographer and the scientist were greatly moved by the poverty and the great inequality that existed in Mexican society in the 1920s, between the haves and the have-nots, and were deeply committed to alleviate this problem. Rivera, by his magnificent art, and Modotti, by her activism and photography, whereas Khankhoje, more practical perhaps, dedicated his research to the improvement of crops and by opening Free Schools of Agriculture for the farmers in Mexico 1928.

Pandurang Khankhoje at the head of the table, mural by Diego Rivera, Ministry of Education, Mexico City.
Pandurang Khankhoje had vowed to develop agriculture and help feed the poorest in the world. A dedicated nationalist, revolutionary and a founder member of the Ghadar Movement, Khankhoje had attempted to bring Independence to India during the First World War, by bringing a revolutionary army via Indian Baluchistan. The attempt though failed, after facing the might of the British Army in Iran and Baluchistan, but the revolutionary fervour did not die and he channeled his energies into developing the science of food, hoping to bring plenty to the neglected farmers of the world. Mexico, a great supporter of the democratic tradition, gave him asylum and work. In Chapingo, he launched into serious studies on the cultivation of disease resistant varieties of wheat, and the origin and evolution of maize, the staple food of Mexico. In no time at all he was dubbed in the local press as the Wizard of Chapingo and the Hindu savant, the man who created wonders with nature.

Pandurang Khankhoje in his corn laboratory. 
Photography was to be the medium that brought Khankhoje and Modotti together in a firm friendship based on art and sensitivity towards the poor and dispossessed. Inspired by the tireless dedication and selfless work of the Indian, Modotti photographed some of his experiments and illustrated the dry scientific texts with wonderful photographs. An ear of pomegranate com, or maize without a kernel, poetry and light in an ear of corn that carried the dreams of Khankhoje, dreams of plenty as the com was replete with grains; plenty for a country that had suffered the ravages of famine and exploitative colonialism. The artistic depiction of high-yielding dwarf varieties of wheat developed by Khankhoje caught the imagination of Modotti in a stark photograph in black and white, bread for the world, an ideal shared by all.

Pandurang Khankhoje, new variety of corn. Signed by Tina Modotti
The ideals of communism and a socialist society were in those days, after the great October Revolution, the dogma of many intellectuals. Modotti, Rivera and Khankhoje, idealists to the core, subscribed to this seductive philosophy and many a heated discussion would surely have taken place while Diego Rivera painted and Khankhoje helped mixing the paints. Modotti and Khankhoje shared a passion for photography. He had developed an interest in the early days of photography, and when in Iran took many a photograph; arid expanses of sand and ruins, interesting tribesmen, the ruins of Persepolis, carpet weaving, as well as photographs of the Revolutionary Persian Democratic Army during training, (1914-15) All this took shape right after the debacle of the revolutionary action during the First World War. Today there is an explosion of books and biographies writing about Tina Modotti, but strangely not much is found about the serious and dedicated scientist revolutionary, who whenever he could, recorded his scientific works and his adventurous exploration of Iran in the turbulent times of the Great War.

Mexico, after the revolution, was undergoing change and the resurgence of art and the ferment of scientific development brought together an Italian expatriate, a great Mexican painter and an exiled Indian revolutionary for a brief incandescent moment in Chapingo, Mexico. Pandurang Khankhoje had taken Mexico and its people to his heart and for more than 30 years worked for them and identified with the Mexican farmer. Indeed he saw himself as a Mexican Indian, a man of the people and never forgot them. The immortal images created by the painter Diego Rivera will undoubtedly live forever. Equally the photographic depiction, in black and white and in sepia, of Modotti of Khankhoje’s contribution to the world of agriculture, too will be a part of the Mexican folklore. It was a golden era, brief and evanescent as magical times usually are.

Savitri Sawhney is Pandurang Khankhoje's daughter.

 Pandurang Khankhoje.

Farmers at the Free School of Agriculture.  

Inauguration of Emiliano Zapata Free School of Agriculture.

Woman playing the guitar at the inauguration of the Free School

Ear of corn, original experiment.

Diego Rivera photographed at the maize laboratory. 

Pandurang Khankhoje in experimental fields.

Origin and evolution of maize.