The Kuala Lumpur High Court will tomorrow hear submissions from Anwar Ibrahim's lawyers and the prosecution, over the defence application to have a trial-within-a-trial.
This follows an objection by lead counsel Karpal Singh who protested the admissability of the mineral water bottle, Good Morning towel, toothbrush and the strand of hair as evidence.
“The items were obtained by police through unfair and illegal means. Hence, the court can decide to expunge the evidence as they were illegally obtained," he said.
.According to BERNAS NEWS, the hunter approached the fox after wounding it, intent on killing itwith the butt of his rifle.
However, the two ended up getting into a tussle, and the fox managed to trigger the rifle, shooting the hunter in the leg.
A prosecutor from the Grodno region said, “The animal fiercely resisted and in the struggle accidentally pulled the trigger with its paw.”
The hunter is currently in the hospital with a leg wound, and the fox just happened to escape.
readmore The Watergate scandal was a political scandal in the United States in the 1970s vs the sodomy1&2
The police has forgotten to tell that he was the one that put those DNA into the three items. Not forget to mention that the chemist also was the one that responsible to create the DNA profile of the male Y into Shitful underwear. Pls also note that the male y dna sample comes from a male monkey that Zoo Negara keeps. The monkey was given a bunch of banana for his cooperation in donating his semen.
Why do we send monkeys to Washington to convince them that we are not monkeys? Come on, the law of the jungle does not work in Washington. Obviously to save the Malaysian reputation after some obvious dumbanswers given by Nazri, the sponsor have to turn it into off the record to save face for Malaysia. The other 2 were so scare to face Washingtonians that they hide away from the seminar to let dumb Nazri be the fall guy. I have said it before and I am saying it again: With this sodomy part II Najib will surely be the last PM of Malaysia from UMNO. The people will be the judge, not some hand-picked corrupted judges answerable only to the BN govt. Nazri being Nazri is a gifted but stupid clown. That’s why the other two smart clowns pulled out at the last minute. Enough said!
22 Feb 2011 ... Today we know why Senior Assistant Commissioner (SAC) II Mohd Rodwan Mohd Yusof met Mohd Saiful Bukhari Azlan in room 619 of the Concorde ...
muslimmalaysia786.wordpress.com/.../22/today-we-know-why-senior-
muslimmalaysia786.wordpress.com/.../22/today-we-know-why-senior-
Case closed.
Verdict: THE FOX was found guilty for having been linked to the sodomy case although no concrete evidence could be found to enforce the assumption. The monkey will be punished for corruption and Shitfool would be paid 2 millions for his cooperation to sodomize Mr Anwar.
The fabrication of lies never seem to stop. THE FOX better listen to KATAK and leave the country.
"A POLICE officer has testified that THE FOX was in possession of items containing DNA matching semen found on the man who accused FOX of sodomising him"
What items? Testicles?
According to National Geographic, the fox’s resourcefulness is what earned it its reputation for being sly, intelligent and cunning. Though this incident of a fox shooting a hunter was only an accident, it certainly gives the fox another reason to be thought of as crafty.
This isn’t the first time an animal has shot a human, AolNews reports. At least three incidents involving dogs and cats unintentionally triggering guns have been reported in the last decade.
UPDATED In the interest of the Malaysian people who are becoming increasingly worried about the state of the economy and the prospect of crippling inflation, Opposition Leader Anwar Ibrahim has written a formal request to Prime Minister Najib Razak for an open and public debate.
However, although the 63-year old Anwar is unlikely to get a civil reply from his counterpart in the federal government, Najib will now have no choice but to agree after publicly insisting that there was no reason for him to fear Anwar
They are the Police to fabricate evidence, the Attorney-General to frame the chargeon rosmaaa order?it’s mindboggling!Public Prosecutor has deceptively merely manufacturing evidences against Anwar
They are the Police to fabricate evidence, the Attorney-General to frame the chargeon rosmaaa order?it’s mindboggling!Public Prosecutor has deceptively merely manufacturing evidences against Anwar
Serving the Goddess
THE DANGEROUS LIFE OF A SACRED SEX WORKER.POLITICAL COMEDY SATIRE THE NAJISROSMAA-THE SAYFOOL STORY THE MALAYSIAN VERSION WATERGATE WHO PUT HIM IN , WHO PUSHED IN MAA MAAMIAH→
by William Dalrymple August 4, 2008
The devadasi system is centuries old, and the women once enjoyed lives of great privilege. Photograph by Ima Garmendia.
“Of course, there are times when there is pleasure,” Rani Bai said. “Who does not like to make love? A handsome young man, one who is gentle . . .”She paused for a moment, looking out over the lake, smiling to herself. Then her face clouded over. “But mostly it is horrible. The farmers here, they are not like the boys of Bombay.”
“And eight of them every day,” her friend Kaveri said. “Sometimes ten. Unknown people. What kind of life is that?”“We have a song,” Rani said. “ ‘Everyone sleeps with us, but no one marries us. Many embrace us, but no one protects.’ ”“Every day, my children ask, ‘Who is my father?’ They do not like having a mother who is in this business.”“Once, I tried to open a bank account with my son,” Rani said. “We went to fill in the form, and the manager asked, ‘Father’s name?’ After that, my son was angry. He said I should not have brought him into the world like this.”“We are sorry we have to do this work. But what is the alternative?”
“Who will give us jobs? We are all illiterate.”“And the future,” Kaveri said. “What have we to look forward to?”“When we are not beautiful, when our bodies become ugly, then we will be all alone.”“If we live long enough to be old and to be ugly,” Kaveri said. “So many are dying.”“One of our community died last week. Two others last month.”“In my village , four younger girls have died,” Kaveri said. “My own brother has the disease. He used to be a truck driver, and knew all the girls along the roads. Now he just lies at home drinking, saying, ‘What difference does it make? I will die anyway.’ ”She turned to face me. “He drinks anything he can get,” she said. “If someone told him his own urine had alcohol in it, he would drink that, too.” She laughed, but harshly. “If I were to sit under a tree and tell you the sadness we have to suffer, the leaves of that tree would fall like tears. My brother is totally bedridden now. He has fevers and diarrhea.” She paused. “He used to be such a handsome man, with a fine face and large eyes. Now those eyes are closed, and his face is covered with boils and lesions.”
“SAIFOOL never wanted it to be like this,” Rani said.ROSMA but rosamah paid good money to sayfool to be like this
“The goddess is sitting silently,” Kaveri said. “We don’t know what feelings she has about us. Who really knows what she is thinking?”
“No,” Rani said, firmly shaking her head. “The goddess looks after us. When we are in distress, she comes to us. Sometimes in our dreams. Sometimes in the form of one of her children.”
“It is not the goddess’s doing.”
“The world has made it like this.”
“The world, and the disease.”the sodomy 2 director rosamah says this will intriguing scence how the stain in sayfool underwear
was detacted how it was transfeered by Rodwan
“The goddess dries our tears,” Rani said. “If you come to her with a pure heart, she will take away your sadness and your sorrows. What more can she do?”SHE IS A GREAT DIRECTOR WE ALL LOVE
SAYFOOL’S GODMOTHER
We had come to Saundatti, in the southern Indian state of Karnataka, to see the goddess Yellamma—Rani Bai, Kaveri, and I. (The names of the two women have been changed.) We had driven over that morning from the town of Belgaum, through the rolling green plains of cotton country. The women, who had been dedicated to Yellamma when they were children, normally took the old slow bus to visit her temple, so they had jumped at the chance to make the journey in the comfort of a taxi.
It was hot and muggy, not long after the end of the rains, and the sky was bright and cloudless. The road led through long avenues of ancient banyan trees, each with an intricate lattice of aerial roots. As we neared Saundatti, however, the green tunnel came to an end, and the fields on either side gave way to drier, poorer country. Trees, cane breaks, and cotton fields were replaced by strips of sunflowers. Goats picked through dusty stubble. Women in ragged clothing sold onions laid out on palm-weave mats set along the side of the road. After some time, a long red stone ridge appeared out of the heat haze. The ridge resolved itself into the great hogback of Saundatti, and at the top, rising from near-vertical cliffs, was the silhouette of the temple of Yellamma. Below, and to one side, stretched a lake of almost unearthly blue.
JUST LIKE SAYFOOL;S BEFORE HE PUSHED THE THING
Some experts trace the institution to the ninth century; others maintain that it is far older, and claim that what is arguably one of the most ancient extant pieces of Indian art, a small bronze of a naked dancing girl from Mohenjo-daro, dating to around 2500 B.C., could depict a devadasi. By the time of Asoka, in the third century B.C., a piece of graffiti in a cave in the Vindhya hills, in central India, recalls the love of Devadinna, an artist, who had fallen for “Sutanuka, a devadasi.” There are large numbers of images of temple dancing girls and a few textual references to devadasis from the early centuries A.D. onward, including some in the area immediately around Saundatti. The largest collection of inscriptions, however, comes from the Chola temples, around Tanjore, in Tamil Nadu, where the great Chola kings of the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries boast of giving hundreds of devadasis, or tevaratiyars, to the temples they founded. These royal temples were conceived as palaces of the gods, and just as the king was attended by ten thousand dancing girls so the gods also had their share of devoted attendants. The vast entourages added to the status of rulers, whether heavenly or terrestrial, and were believed to surround them with an auspicious female presence.
THE SAYFOOL STORY THE MALAYSIAN VERSION WATERGATE WHO PUT HIM IN , WHO PUSHED IN MAA MAAMIAH
NOW SAYFOOL FEELS gatal wants more any taker we have his loverboy readmore 
Expert tip : Dr. Anupam Randhawa, a clinical psychologist says, “It’s a great experience to listen to your mate’s voice and when the message being heard is sexual in nature, it’s an icing on the cake. But make sure that while recording, you don’t end up with a long message because it may not sustain your partner’s interest. So, keep it short, spicy and say exactly what you feel.”
Not all the “temple women” referred to in such inscriptions were necessarily dancing girls, courtesans, or concubines. Some seem to have been more like nuns, busy with devotions and temple-cleaning duties. Some had honored and important roles in the temple rituals.
In the sixteenth century, Portuguese traders from Goa began to visit the Hindu capital of Vijayanagar, in southern India, and they left fuller and more explicitly sensual descriptions of temple women. One Portuguese traveller wrote that women who belonged to the pagoda danced before the idol. The traveller went on: I may sound like a cynic, but I am not. I did not want to do the the role of the girlfriend in Dil kabaddi who comes into the life of a married man. But I guess that was to be destined 
I don’t believe in extra-marital affairs in real life. I sympathise with Soha’s character who plays the wife when she comes to know that husband Irfan is having an affair.
I don’t believe in extra-marital affairs in real life. I sympathise with Soha’s character who plays the wife when she comes to know that husband Irfan is having an affair.To hug me tight,
to touch my place of love,
and get to total union,
listen well,
to touch my place of love,
and get to total union,
listen well,
But only if you have the money
These poems of union and separation may be read partly as metaphors for the longing of the soul for the divine, and of the devotee for God. Yet they are also clearly an expression of unembarrassed joy in sexuality, part of a complex cultural tradition in pre-colonial India where the devotional or metaphysical and the sexual are not regarded as being opposed; on the contrary, they are seen to be closely linked. The temple girls were auspicious, and the devadasis retain this auspiciousness in Karnataka today.
There is, however, an almost unimaginable gulf separating the devadasis of ancient poems and inscriptions and the lives lived by women like Rani Bai. In the Middle Ages, the devadasis were drawn from the grandest families in the realm—among them princesses of the Chola royal family—and possibly from slaves captured in war. Many were literate, and some were highly accomplished poets; indeed, at the time they seem to have been among the few literate women in the region. Today, the devadasis are drawn exclusively from the lowest castes—usually from the Dalit Madar caste—and are almost entirely illiterate.
The majority of modern devadasis in Karnataka are straightforward sex workers; the devadasis I talked to estimated that only about one out of twenty of those dedicated as children manage to escape into other careers—not least because almost all of them leave school and begin work soon after puberty. They usually work from home rather than in brothels or on the streets, and tend to start younger than commercial sex workers. Nevertheless, the main outlines of their working lives are in reality little different from those of others in the sex trade. This does not, however, stop the devadasis from drawing elaborate distinctions between their sacred vocation and the work of their commercial sisters, which they take great pleasure in looking down upon.
Ironically, it was partly well-meaning social reformers who contributed to this marked drop in status. In the nineteenth century, Hindu reformers, reacting to the taunts of Victorian missionaries, began to attack the institution of temple dancers and sacred prostitution. Successive waves of colonial and postcolonial legislation slowly broke the ancient links between the devadasis and the temples, driving the women out of the temple precincts and eroding their social, economic, and spiritual position. In 1982, the Karnataka Devadasis (Prohibition of Dedication) Act forced the practice completely underground, threatening any priest who assisted in ceremonies with years of harsh imprisonment. Around the lake, and on the road to the temple, the government has put up huge warning signs: “Do Not Dedicate Your Daughter. There Are Other Ways of Showing Your Devotion” and “Dedicating Your Daughter Is Uncivilized Behavior.”
For all their efforts, the reformers have not succeeded in ending the institution. They have only demeaned and criminalized it. There are estimated to be around a quarter of a million devadasis in Maharashtra and Karnataka, about half of them living around Belgaum. For the very poor, and the very pious, the devadasi system can still be seen as providing a way out of poverty while gaining access to the blessings of the gods, the two things that the most impoverished crave.
This is why more than a thousand girls, usually between the ages of five and ten years, continue to be dedicated to the goddess annually. If the girls are dedicated when they are very young, they return to a normal childhood. When they reach puberty, they are wrenched from their lives and offered to the highest bidder to be deflowered.
Later that day, I visited the Yellamma temple with Rani Bai and Kaveri. It is a fine eleventh-century building, and was packed with pilgrims from across the state; we had to stand in line for some time to get a glimpse of the goddess. Ahead of us was a party of excitable eunuchs from Bijapur. The women had recovered their spirits and chatted with the eunuchs as they waited.
“I feel very devotional whenever I am here,” Rani said.
“You feel her presence so strongly in her temple,” Kaveri said.
“She is very near,” Rani said.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“It’s like electricity,” she replied. “You can’t see it, but you know it’s there, and you can see its effects.”
When we arrived before the idol, the priests blessed us with a camphor lamp, and Kaveri explained that the image of the goddess had emerged from the hillside. “No one made it,” she whispered.
I asked one of the Brahmans whether they still performed devadasi dedications. The priest looked uneasy.
“What do we know of these women?” he said, glancing around for support from his fellow-pundits.
“We used to bless their necklaces,” one of the older priests said. “Then give them back to them. But now that is illegal.”
“That was our only role.”
“What they do is their own business,” the first said. “This is nothing to do with us.”
That evening, after we dropped off Kaveri in Belgaum, I took Rani Bai back to her house, in a nearby town where many devadasis have settled. More than a hundred worked in a small warren of streets off the main highway heading to Bangalore.
Rani Bai’s house was in a dark lane, lit by a single, dim street light. Dogs sat next to open gutters, and half-naked children played in the side alleys. It was perhaps the depressing nature of her surroundings that led Rani—always the optimist—to emphasize the positive side of her career.
“We still have many privileges,” Rani said as we approached her house on foot—the lanes were too narrow here for the car. “If a buffalo has a calf, the first milk after the birth is brought to the devadasis to say thank you to the goddess. During the festival of Yellamma, the people bring five new saris to us as gifts. Every full moon, we are called to the houses of Brahmans and they feed us. They touch our feet and pray to us because they believe we are the incarnation of the goddess.”
“This still goes on?” I asked, thinking of the attitude of the Brahmans at the temple.
“Still,” Rani said. “When we are called for pujas like this, we feel very proud.
“There are so many things like this,” she continued. “When a child is born, they make a cap for the baby from one of our old saris. They hope then that the love of Yellamma will be on that child.
“Also,” she added, “unlike other women, we can inherit our father’s property. No one ever dares curse us. And when we die the Brahmans give us a special cremation ceremony.”
We stepped over a dog, sleeping half in, half out of an open sewer.
“You see, we are not like the ordinary whores,” Rani said, as we finally got to her house. “We have some dignity. We don’t pick people up from the side of a road. We don’t go behind bushes or anything like that. We spend time with our clients and talk to them. We are always decently dressed—always wear good silk saris. Never T-shirts or those miniskirts the other women wear in Bombay.”
We had arrived at Rani’s door. Outside, suspended on the wall, was a cubbyhole stall selling cigarettes andpaan. Her younger sister was sitting here, handing out individual bidis and other cigarettes to passersby. As Rani led the way in, she continued, “You see, we live together as a community, and all this gives us some protection. If any client tries to burn us with a cigarette or to force himself on us without wearing a condom, we can shout and everyone comes running.”
Inside, everything was immaculate. The space was divided in two by a large cupboard that almost touched the shack’s roof. The front half of the room was dominated by the large bed where Rani plied her trade. To one side, on a shelf, were several calendar pictures of the goddess. In the back of the room was a second bed—the one Rani slept in. Here were pots and pans, stacked neatly in racks, and below was a kerosene burner for cooking. On a cupboard was a large mirror and Rani’s family photographs: pictures of her son and her old boyfriend—a handsome man with a Bollywood-film-star mustache and dark glasses—and beside that were passport-size shots of her dead daughters. Both were pretty girls, captured smiling when they were around twelve or thirteen.
Rani took the photographs from my hand, and replaced them on the cupboard. Then she led me back to the front half of the room and indicated that I should sit on the bed. I asked her whether her auspicious status made any difference to her clients when they came to be entertained.
“No,” she said. “There is no devotional feeling in bed. Fucking is fucking. There I am just another woman. Just another whore.”
“And do you feel safe from the disease here?” I asked. “Are you confident that the condoms can protect you?”
“No,” she said. “There is always fear. We know that even if you persuade all your clients to wear a condom, one broken one can infect us. And once we are infected there is no cure. We will die—if not today, then tomorrow.”
She paused. “You see, I know what it’s like. I watched both my daughters die, as well as at least six of my friends. I nursed many of them. Some lost their hair. Some had skin diseases. Some just became very, very thin and wasted away. One or two of the most beautiful girls became so repulsive that even I did not want to touch them.”
She shivered slightly. “Of course we feel very scared,” she said. “But we must continue this work if we are to eat. We have a lot of misery to bear. But that is our tradition. That is our karma. We try to show our happy side to the clients to keep attracting them, and put all our efforts into doing a good job.”
“Do you have any hopes for the future?”
“I am saving,” she said. “As I told you, I have bought a little land, and one day, I hope, if I can get some more buffalo and a few goats, maybe I can save enough to retire there and live by selling the milk and curds. Yellamma will look after me.”
“You know that?”
“Of course. If it wasn’t for her, how could an illiterate woman like me earn two thousand rupees in a day? Yellamma is a very practical goddess. I feel she is very near. She is with us in good times and bad.”
Later, I asked one of the project managers of an N.G.O. working in Belgaum about AIDS and how the devadasis’ families reacted.
“It’s terrible,” she said. “The families are happy to live off them and use the money they earn. But as soon as they become infected, or at least become bedridden and sick, they are dumped in a ditch—sometimes literally. Just abandoned. We had a case before Christmas. One girl was taken to a private hospital in Bijapur after she complained of severe headaches. The hospital ran some tests and found that she was H.I.V.-positive and, on top of that, had a brain tumor. She began treatment, but her family checked her out because of the expense and took her home. We found her in a semi-comatose state, completely untended by the same family members she had been supporting for years. She wasn’t even being given water. We took her straight back to the hospital ourselves, but it was too late. She died two weeks later.”
“Then it’s good that Rani will be retiring before too long,” I said.
“That is what she told you?”
“She said she would get some land and some buffalo and try and make a living from that.”
“Rani Bai?”
“Yes.”
“I shouldn’t really be telling you this,” she said. “But Rani is infected—she’s been H.I.V.-positive for eighteen months now. I’ve seen the tests.”
“Does she know this?”
“Of course,” she said. “It’s not full-blown AIDS—at least, not yet. The medicines can delay the onset of the worst symptoms. But they can’t cure her.”
She shrugged. “Either way, it’s highly unlikely she’ll ever retire to that farm,” she said. “It’s the same as her daughters. It’s too late to save her.” ♦
Nothing beats the visual medium : Actions can say a lot more than what you think. So make the most of them. If you’re hesitant in communicating your sexual fancies, just seek help from a visual medium. Either pick certain scenes from a movie or let the not-so-realistic porn convey your desires to your partner.
Expert tip : Dr. Amita Mishra, sex and relationship expert shares, “It’s evident that watching erotic videos can give a much desired push to your sexual senses and leave you craving for more. Sharing your sexual fantasy through a visual medium adds more joy to you lovemaking session. You can even perform the act while the video is being played simultaneously to make it more stimulating.”
Aphrodisiacs are in : You might have been cooking dishes that your beau loves, but if you wish to derive benefit out if it, think beyond! Use a lot of strawberries, cherries, kiwi, cream, nuts, red jellies and mango slices to tempt your partner and throw hints that you are charged up for a steamy romp. 
Expert tip : Dr. Medha Sharma, a relationship counselor opines, “Whenever you step out of the closet and are creative, it will always add to your sexual bliss. Let the ingredients and the flavour of the dish highlight your sexual desires and then it’s for your partner to figure out that you’re looking forward to a night of passion.”
Say it in bits and pieces : For individuals who aren’t extroverted by nature, it might appear to be a tough task to say everything about their sexual desires at once. So try dividing the entire episode into small parts and let the messages be conveyed to your partner after short intervals throughout the day.
Expert tip : “As you continue sharing tiny features about your sexual fantasy with your partner throughout the day, it will also act as an add-on to their mood. As they sum up all the messages, they will have a clear understanding as to what you expect from them, thus guaranteeing a gratifying act,” feels Dr. Randhawa.
Let your gestures do the talking : Remember that your body language can reveal a lot about you, which you may not put across in words. At least when it comes to letting your partner learn your fantasies, this is the ultimate weapon, where your body says much about what you expect in bed.
Expert tip : “Passing sexual hints is an effective medium to communicate what’s running through your mind. Make sure that you are articulate enough in your moves to make your partner understands and catches the right signals,’ suggests Dr. Amita.
A written letter below the pillow : The idea may seem conventional, but if your sex life is going through a rough patch, it may be a blessing in disguise. When nothing else seems to be working, the best way to converse with your partner is through written words. And not to forget, you can be over-expressive too while penning down your sexual desires.
Expert tip : “Love notes with naughty messages and your sexual fantasy written down in detail can serve the purpose. Though saying it verbally casts a different impact altogether, but if you play well with your words or try being a bit poetic in approach, it can certainly bring ultimate pleasure,” states Dr. Medha.
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