Mass Human Sacrifice at Punta Lobos, Peru



Huarmey has been a place for fishing from ancient times to the present day, indeed, the name itself means fisherman in the ancient language Muchic (Guaxme). It was during an investigation into what was apparently a pre-Hispanic cemetery at Punta Lobos, near the installations operated by Compañía Minera Antamina at the port of Huarmey, that we were astonished to find that the cemetery for young fishermen was in fact the site of a large-scale human sacrifice.
Towards the end of the 14th Century the armies of the Chimu emperor Minchaaman were engaged in an aggressive military campaign to increase the already extensive lands under their rule. In this campaign the Huarmey valley was encircled, conquered and finally annexed to the Chimu imperial state. Later, in an impressive religious ceremony, a fishing village was selected and offered in sacrifice to the god Ni, lord of the sea and the principal deity of the conquerors, to thank him for the military victory. The scene chosen for this ceremony was Punta Lobos.



The bodies of the sacrificed men were watched to make sure carrion-eating animals did not go near them, while the sea and sand slowly covered them. While this was happening, at the other end of the beach the survivors of the sacrifice, the women, the children and the old, offered a number of ceramic vessels containing food and drink, as well as fishing tackle such as nets, cord and weights, so that the dead fishermen could continue with their work in the afterlife.


Five centuries later, bodies mutilated by grave robbers gave no indication that the small cemetery at Punta Lobos had such a fascinating and terrible history. The Chimu, inheritors of the ancient religious traditions of the Moche, also included massive human sacrifices in their ceremonies as their ancestors had done centuries before them. But, just as the Chimu surpassed their ancestors in jewelry, textiles and other arts, so they did in the magnitude of their religious ceremonies. Never before has a ritual of this size been discovered.

The bodies of 107 fishermen remained intact despite an unsuccessful search for artifacts by grave robbers or huaqueros; more than 20 were mutilated by the Chimu themselves and around 70 were destroyed by the huaqueros.

A detailed analysis of the bodies confirms the first impression that most of the victims show marks of the knives by which they were put to death. Bound and blindfolded, the fought against inevitable death until, choking on their own blood they fell face down onto the sand.

Later research has shown that most of the sacrificed fishermen were all men, young or adult and healthy for that period, highly skilled in fishing and diving, like the fishermen of today who live by the beaches of Huarmey.







Divya Bharti - She would be 36 today. Her 36th Birthday.

Remembering Divya... it is almost 17 yrs since she passed away. Had she been today... she would have been the top icon of the bollywood film industry. It's my attempt to get back her as the LEGEND.



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The End of the Universe

(Main Theories on How the Cosmos Will Cease to Exist )

The beginning of the Universe is still not completely understood, although as it is explained in Origins of the Universe there are many theories. The same holds true for the end of the Universe. No one knows how it will end but scientists have deduced a few theories that could shed some insight as to what the future will bring to the Cosmos.

There are many theories for the end of the Universe. Some of these theories actually don't foresee an end at all, but claim that everything is infinite, or even that it keeps repeating. Taking them from the best scientists and cosmologists the following are the main theories for the future of the Universe explained.

The Big Freeze Theory

This theory suggests that if the Universe is either flat or hyperbolic (as in the shape of a saddle) then it fits into the Big Freeze scenario. The shape of the Universe is determined by the density it contains.

As explained in NASA's Universe 101 website, depending on the ratio of the Universe's density to the critical density the geometry of the Universe can be spherical, flat or hyperbolic (shaped like a saddle). A flat or saddled shaped Universe would give way to the Big Freeze end of the Universe. This ending suggests that the Universe will expand forever ultimately making everything too cold to sustain life.

The Big Rip Theory
The Big Rip theory follows the rules of general relativity. It claims that the Universe will continually expand at an accelerated pace until it leads to everything getting ripped and torn apart. "The expansion becomes so fast that it literally rips apart all bound objects," explains Robert Caldwell from Dartmouth University, the lead author of the theory.

This theory puts 'phantom or dark energy', and unknown force, as the the culprit for the expansion and ultimately the 'big rip' of all galaxies, stars, planets, any matter that exists in the universe.

The Big Crunch Theory
This theory is also known as the Cyclic Universe Theory, which is an end of the Universe theory as well as an origins of the Universe theory. Developed by Princeton University's Paul Steinhardt and Neil Turok of Cambridge, it describes how the Universe goes into a series of 'big bangs' and then 'big crunches' over and over again.

As explained in their May 24, 2002 paper "A Cyclic Model of the Universe" in the journal Science, Steinhardt and Turok say this results in the Universe creating and destroying itself indefinitely in a never-ending cycle. This theory model also lends itself well to the concept of the Universe's accelerating expansion due to dark energy.

Multiverse Theory
This theory does not predict an end, but suggests that there are many other universes out there that exist as bubbles along this Universe. Theoretical physicist Michio Kaku explains how this could be possible due to the notion that energy expands faster than the bubble that is the Universe can sustain, thus creating many other Universe bubbles.

There are many different directions that the Multiverse Theory also can go other than the bubble idea, such as Parallel Universes. In this model, linked to the String Theory, it is believed that parallel universes would exist simultaneously to the Universe as it is today, but invisibly residing in higher or lower dimensions that cannot be seen by the human eye.

Of course, this parallel universe is highly conceptualized and there are still many things to be learned by scientists to be able to validate it, but science has proven that they are quite possible. As for the end of the Universe theories, they are being debated and researched and cosmologists will someday be much closer to the realization of how the end will come, if at all.



(source: http://astrophysics.suite101.com/article.cfm/the_end_of_the_universe)

A Service of Love - O' Henry



 A Service of Love - O' Henry


When one loves one's Art no service seems too hard.

That is our premise. This story shall draw a conclusion from it, and show at the same time that the premise is incorrect. That will be a new thing in logic, and a feat in story-telling somewhat older than the great wall of China.

Joe Larrabee came out of the post-oak flats of the Middle West pulsing with a genius for pictorial art. At six he drew a picture of the town pump with a prominent citizen passing it hastily. This effort was framed and hung in the drug store window by the side of the ear of corn with an uneven number of rows. At twenty he left for New York with a flowing necktie and a capital tied up somewhat closer.

Delia Caruthers did things in six octaves so promisingly in a pine- tree village in the South that her relatives chipped in enough in her chip hat for her to go "North" and "finish." They could not see her f--, but that is our story.

Joe and Delia met in an atelier where a number of art and music students had gathered to discuss chiaroscuro, Wagner, music, Rembrandt's works, pictures, Waldteufel, wall paper, Chopin and Oolong.

Joe and Delia became enamoured one of the other, or each of the other, as you please, and in a short time were married--for (see above), when one loves one's Art no service seems too hard.

Mr. and Mrs. Larrabee began housekeeping in a flat. It was a lonesome flat--something like the A sharp way down at the left-hand end of the keyboard. And they were happy; for they had their Art, and they had each other. And my advice to the rich young man would be--sell all thou hast, and give it to the poor--janitor for the privilege of living in a flat with your Art and your Delia.



Flat-dwellers shall indorse my dictum that theirs is the only true happiness. If a home is happy it cannot fit too close--let the dresser collapse and become a billiard table; let the mantel turn to a rowing machine, the escritoire to a spare bedchamber, the washstand to an upright piano; let the four walls come together, if they will, so you and your Delia are between. But if home be the other kind, let it be wide and long--enter you at the Golden Gate, hang your hat on Hatteras, your cape on Cape Horn and go out by the Labrador.

Joe was painting in the class of the great Magister--you know his fame. His fees are high; his lessons are light--his high-lights have brought him renown. Delia was studying under Rosenstock--you know his repute as a disturber of the piano keys.

They were mighty happy as long as their money lasted. So is every-- but I will not be cynical. Their aims were very clear and defined. Joe was to become capable very soon of turning out pictures that old gentlemen with thin side-whiskers and thick pocketbooks would sandbag one another in his studio for the privilege of buying. Delia was to become familiar and then contemptuous with Music, so that when she saw the orchestra seats and boxes unsold she could have sore throat and lobster in a private dining-room and refuse to go on the stage.

But the best, in my opinion, was the home life in the little flat-- the ardent, voluble chats after the day's study; the cozy dinners and fresh, light breakfasts; the interchange of ambitions--ambitions interwoven each with the other's or else inconsiderable--the mutual help and inspiration; and--overlook my artlessness--stuffed olives and cheese sandwiches at 11 p.m.

But after a while Art flagged. It sometimes does, even if some switchman doesn't flag it. Everything going out and nothing coming in, as the vulgarians say. Money was lacking to pay Mr. Magister and Herr Rosenstock their prices. When one loves one's Art no service seems too hard. So, Delia said she must give music lessons to keep the chafing dish bubbling.

For two or three days she went out canvassing for pupils. One evening she came home elated.

"Joe, dear," she said, gleefully, "I've a pupil. And, oh, the loveliest people! General--General A. B. Pinkney's daughter--on Seventy-first street. Such a splendid house, Joe--you ought to see the front door! Byzantine I think you would call it. And inside! Oh, Joe, I never saw anything like it before.

"My pupil is his daughter Clementina. I dearly love her already. She's a delicate thing-dresses always in white; and the sweetest, simplest manners! Only eighteen years old. I'm to give three lessons a week; and, just think, Joe! $5 a lesson. I don't mind it a bit; for when I get two or three more pupils I can resume my lessons with Herr Rosenstock. Now, smooth out that wrinkle between your brows, dear, and let's have a nice supper."

"That's all right for you, Dele," said Joe, attacking a can of peas with a carving knife and a hatchet, "but how about me? Do you think I'm going to let you hustle for wages while I philander in the regions of high art? Not by the bones of Benvenuto Cellini! I guess I can sell papers or lay cobblestones, and bring in a dollar or two."

Delia came and hung about his neck.

"Joe, dear, you are silly. You must keep on at your studies. It is not as if I had quit my music and gone to work at something else. While I teach I learn. I am always with my music. And we can live as happily as millionaires on $15 a week. You mustn't think of leaving Mr. Magister."

"All right," said Joe, reaching for the blue scalloped vegetable dish. "But I hate for you to be giving lessons. It isn't Art. But you're a trump and a dear to do it."

"When one loves one's Art no service seems too hard," said Delia.

"Magister praised the sky in that sketch I made in the park," said Joe. "And Tinkle gave me permission to hang two of them in his window. I may sell one if the right kind of a moneyed idiot sees them."

"I'm sure you will," said Delia, sweetly. "And now let's be thankful for Gen. Pinkney and this veal roast."

During all of the next week the Larrabees had an early breakfast. Joe was enthusiastic about some morning-effect sketches he was doing in Central Park, and Delia packed him off breakfasted, coddled, praised and kissed at 7 o'clock. Art is an engaging mistress. It was most times 7 o'clock when he returned in the evening.

At the end of the week Delia, sweetly proud but languid, triumphantly tossed three five-dollar bills on the 8x10 (inches) centre table of the 8x10 (feet) flat parlour.

Sometimes," she said, a little wearily, "Clementina tries me. I'm afraid she doesn't practise enough, and I have to tell her the same things so often. And then she always dresses entirely in white, and that does get monotonous. But Gen. Pinkney is the dearest old man! I wish you could know him, Joe. He comes in sometimes when I am with Clementina at the piano--he is a widower, you know--and stands there pulling his white goatee. 'And how are the semiquavers and the demisemiquavers progressing?' he always asks.

"I wish you could see the wainscoting in that drawing-room, Joe! And those Astrakhan rug portieres. And Clementina has such a funny little cough. I hope she is stronger than she looks. Oh, I really am getting attached to her, she is so gentle and high bred. Gen. Pinkney's brother was once Minister to Bolivia."
And then Joe, with the air of a Monte Cristo, drew forth a ten, a five, a two and a one--all legal tender notes--and laid them besideDelia's earnings.

"Sold that watercolour of the obelisk to a man from Peoria," he announced overwhelmingly.
"Don't joke with me," said Delia, "not from Peoria!"
"All the way. I wish you could see him, Dele. Fat man with a woollen muffler and a quill toothpick. He saw the sketch in Tinkle's window and thought it was a windmill at first, he was game, though, and bought it anyhow. He ordered another--an oil sketch of the Lackawanna freight depot--to take back with him. Music lessons! Oh, I guess Art is still in it."
"I'm so glad you've kept on," said Delia, heartily. "You're bound to win, dear. Thirty-three dollars! We never had so much to spend before. We'll have oysters to-night."
"And filet mignon with champignons," said Joe. "Were is the olive fork?"

On the next Saturday evening Joe reached home first. He spread his $18 on the parlour table and washed what seemed to be a great deal of dark paint from his hands. Half an hour later Delia arrived, her right hand tied up in a shapeless bundle of wraps and bandages.

"How is this?" asked Joe after the usual greetings. Delia laughed, but not very joyously.

Clementina," she explained, "insisted upon a Welsh rabbit after her lesson. She is such a queer girl. Welsh rabbits at 5 in the afternoon. The General was there. You should have seen him run for the chafing dish, Joe, just as if there wasn't a servant in thehouse. I know Clementina isn't in good health; she is so nervous. In serving the rabbit she spilled a great lot of it, boiling hot, over my hand and wrist. It hurt awfully, Joe. And the dear girl was so sorry! But Gen. Pinkney!--Joe, that old man nearly went distracted. He rushed downstairs and sent somebody--they said the furnace man or somebody in the basement--out to a drug store for some oil and things to bind it up with. It doesn't hurt so much now."

"What's this?" asked Joe, taking the hand tenderly and pulling at some white strands beneath the bandages.

"It's something soft," said Delia, "that had oil on it. Oh, Joe, did you sell another sketch?" She had seen the money on the table. "Did I?" said Joe; "just ask the man from Peoria. He got his depot to-day, and he isn't sure but he thinks he wants another parkscape and a view on the Hudson. What time this afternoon did you burn your hand, Dele?"

"Five o'clock, I think," said Dele, plaintively. "The iron--I mean the rabbit came off the fire about that time. You ought to have seen Gen. Pinkney, Joe, when--"
"Sit down here a moment, Dele," said Joe. He drew her to the couch, sat beside her and put his arm across her shoulders.
"What have you been doing for the last two weeks, Dele?" he asked.
 
She braved it for a moment or two with an eye full of love and stubbornness, and murmured a phrase or two vaguely of Gen. Pinkney; but at length down went her head and out came the truth and tears.

"I couldn't get any pupils," she confessed. "And I couldn't bear to have you give up your lessons; and I got a place ironing shirts in that big Twentyfourth street laundry. And I think I did very well to make up both General Pinkney and Clementina, don't you, Joe? And when a girl in the laundry set down a hot iron on my hand this afternoon I was all the way home making up that story about the Welsh rabbit. You're not angry, are you, Joe? And if I hadn't got the work you mightn't have sold your sketches to that man from Peoria.

"He wasn't from Peoria," said Joe, slowly.
"Well, it doesn't matter where he was from. How clever you are, Joe --and--kiss me, Joe--and what made you ever suspect that I wasn't giving music lessons to Clementina?"
"I didn't," said Joe, "until to-night. And I wouldn't have then, only I sent up this cotton waste and oil from the engine-room this afternoon for a girl upstairs who had her hand burned with a smoothing-iron. I've been firing the engine in that laundry for the last two weeks."
"And then you didn't--"
"My purchaser from Peoria," said Joe, "and Gen. Pinkney are both creations of the same art--but you wouldn't call it either painting or music.

And then they both laughed, and Joe began:
"When one loves one's Art no service seems--"
But Delia stopped him with her hand on his lips. "No," she said-- "just 'When one loves.'"




Gloomy Sunday - The Sucide Song



Gloomy Sunday - the notorious 'Hungarian Suicide Song' - was written in 1933. Its melody and original lyrics were the creation of Rezső Seress, a self-taught pianist and composer born in Hungary in 1899. The crushing hopelessness and bitter despair which characterised the two stanza penned by Seress were superseded by the more mournful, melancholic verses of Hungarian poet László Jávor.

When the song came to public attention it quickly earned its reputation as a 'suicide song'. Reports from Hungary alleged individuals had taken their lives after listening to the haunting melody, or that the lyrics had been left with their last letters. The lyricists Sam M. Lewis and Desmond Carter each penned an English translatation of the song. It was Lewis's version, first recorded by Hal Kemp and his Orchestra, with Bob Allen on vocals (1936), that was to become the most widely covered.

The popularity of Gloomy Sunday increased greatly through its interpretation by Billie Holiday (1941). In an attempt to alleviate the pessemistic tone a third stanza was added to this version, giving the song a dreamy twist, yet still the suicide reputation remained. Gloomy Sunday was banned from the playlists of major radio broadcasters around the world. The B.B.C. deemed it too depressing for the airwaves. Despite all such bans, Gloomy Sunday continued to be recorded and sold. People continued to buy the recordings; some committed suicide. Rezső Seress jumped to his death from his flat in 1968.

On to the legends:

   1. Up to seventeen suicides were purportedly linked in some way to the song "Gloomy Sunday" in Hungary before the song was (allegedly) banned. These "links" included people who reportedly killed themselves after listening to the song (either from a recording or performed by a band), or who were said to have been  found dead with references to "Gloomy Sunday" (and/or its lyrics) in their suicide notes, with "Gloomy Sunday" sheet music in their hands, or with "Gloomy Sunday" playing on gramophones.

      I don't know how any of these claims could be verified short of paging through old Hungarian newspapers; even then, it would be difficult at this late date to separate exaggerated and fabricated reports from true ones. I suspect that this portion of the legend is trivially true, a combination of Hungary's historically high suicide rate and the assumption of a causal ? rather than a coincidental ? relationship between the song and suicides that caused rumors and media reports to be greatly exaggerated.

      Hungary has had the highest suicide rate of any country for many years (as high as 45.9 per 100,000 people in 1984), so a few dozen suicides there over a year's time certainly wouldn't have been unusual, even in 1936. Nor is it at all uncommon for suicides to work something from popular songs or books or films into their deaths. Only when one particular song was coincidentally linked to a sufficient number of suicides to draw attention to _all_ the suicides in which it played a part did people start to claim that it was somehow the cause of these deaths.

   2. Many claims are made about the reaction to "Gloomy Sunday" by Hungarian authorities, from "discouraging" public performance of the song to an outright ban on it. I have found no reliable information about when, where, or by whom this song might have been banned in one form or another. My guess, based on similar legends (such as the claim that Donald Duck was banned in /insert Scandinavian country of choice/), would be that some Hungarian municipalities may have instituted some types of (possibly  voluntary) restrictions on the song, but that there was no nation-wide ban on "Gloomy Sunday."



   3. The claims about American reaction to the song are even wilder. Some sources claim that no "Gloomy Sunday"-inspired suicides were reported in the USA at all, while others attribute cases of suicide (up to "200 worldwide") in both the USA and Britain to the English-language version of "Gloomy Sunday" (including "young jazz fans" who became depressed after hearing Billie Holiday's version of the song). Likewise, while some sources say that there were no restrictions whatsoever placed on the song in the USA, others claim that it was "banned from the airwaves." (Sometimes the ban is said to have been directed at a particular version of the song, such as Billie Holiday's recording of it.) Some sources even claim that a sort of "compromise" ban was enacted as many radio stations played only the instrumental version of the song.

   4. The "girlfriend who inspired the song committed suicide" claims sounds like an embellishment of the basic legend, as I only found one source that mentioned it. It claimed that Javor "wrote the song for a former girlfriend," and that shortly after its release she committed suicide and left behind a note reading simply "Gloomy Sunday."

   5. Rezso Seress did indeed commit suicide, jumping from a Budapest building in 1968. This portion of the legend also appears to have been embellished, with some sources claiming that he was depressed because he'd never been able to produce another hit after "Gloomy Sunday."



Szomorú Vasárnap

Szomorú vasárnap száz fehér virággal
Vártalak kedvesem templomi imával
Álmokat kergető vasárnap délelőtt
Bánatom hintaja nélküled visszajött
Azóta szomorú mindig a vasárnap
Könny csak az italom kenyerem a bánat...

Szomorú vasárnap
— László Jávor original Hungarian version
Gloomy Sunday

Gloomy Sunday with a hundred white flowers
I was waiting for you my dearest with a prayer
A Sunday morning, chasing after my dreams
The carriage of my sorrow returned to me without you
It is since then that my Sundays have been forever sad
Tears my only drink, the sorrow my bread...

Gloomy Sunday
literal English translation