Hi all,
Sorry for the immense delay, been very busy and could not get a definite winner list till now. The winners of the Ghost of You short story contest is Cinderella and Jeevan. I hope the winners will update me with their addresses so that I can arrange to send their books.
I will come back soon to let you know why these entries won, but generally the storyline and effort put into making the character thrive is the winning point.
Been planning a new method to this contests. For the future, the GPP will hold a contest every two months. This could be in varied media and methods. Will let you know on the outcome and also will be making this new contests and open vote contest.
Have fun,
GhostParticle
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
- The Ghost of You - Short Story Competition
HUMAN+UNIVERSE will celebrate its 2nd Anniversary on the 19th of December. So I have this little competition to make the day extra special. Below you will see 9 images with random themes. They might have significance to me, you or anyone. They are not connected to each other but certainly they have something to do with me and what I like. It's all about us Humans and the Universe.
Your task, if you choose to accept it is:
[2] Fried Prawns
[3] My Room!
[4] Slow Shutter Snap of the City
[5] Limestone hill along the Highway
[6] Starbucks Sign
[7] Penang Ferry
[8] Lunch; Chicken Sandwhich
[9] I pimped my cell: Samsung D820
Your task, if you choose to accept it is:
[-] Choose a picture, or any number of pictures from the snaps below and write a short story ( 2 to 10 pages) based on it. It doesn't have to describe solely what the pictures are, just what it means to you.Here are the snaps:
[-] The story/ stories should be in ENGLISH only.
[-] The story can be of any nature, theme, form. You can roam the world, introduce different cultures, messages, characters, worlds even, but make sure its ORIGINAL!!!
[-] The rights, copyrights of the story will belong to the respective authors and be protected by Creative Commons.
[-] All the stories will be published in this blog: [GhostParticleProject] on the 19th of December 2006.[-] The stories shall reach me before December 20th 2006 at [admin[@]ghostparticle.com] or [ghost_particle[@]yahoo.com] .[-] Send in either a word file or a PDF format together with your name, screen name, blog url OR website url OR E-mail clearly written at the top of the story.
[-] Please also confirm your participation before December the 10th at the latest. This is to ensure I know what to expect in terms of volume and be prepared to handle the stories.
[-] The stories will be judged by a panel of judges from all over the world.
[-] The stories will be judged by their creativity, characterization (honestly, I don't know what that word means, made it up), flow, originality and it's impact. No matter what you write, I will still love you all :p But do make it the most amazing story you ever wrote.
And the carrot...that is the prize: 2 winners will be selected and each will receive A paperback fiction or non-fiction title of their choice mailed to them with no extra cost. Which means you will get the book for FREE right at your doorstep even if you live in Alaska. (2 winners because this is the 2nd anniversary, and it will increase according to the anniversary along the years.)
[1] Cars Dashboard Display
[2] Fried Prawns
[3] My Room!
[4] Slow Shutter Snap of the City
[5] Limestone hill along the Highway
[6] Starbucks Sign
[7] Penang Ferry
[8] Lunch; Chicken Sandwhich
[9] I pimped my cell: Samsung D820
GOOD LUCK AND ENJOY WRITING!
(13) Cinderella's Story
Blogger: Cinderella
Blog: http://intelligensia-cinderella.blogspot.com
"He was walking along the valleys of the mountainous terrain of Simla. It was slowly getting dark and the little houses along the valley belt had already struck up their lights, illuminating the divine twilight that the sky was spreading across now. The highway was visible towards his right, up at a higher altitude and he could see the red, blue and the yellow lights of the vehicles speeding by.
The walk was slow, rather lazy, a contrast to the others who were taking brisk steps and speeding past him. Obviously, hurrying home. Winters at this time of the year was when Simla slept right after the evening was over.
He looked up to the sky and felt a li'l drop on his nose.
"What the hell.." he said to himself. His hotel was till another 15 minutes walk and there was no way he was gonna get a rickshaw at this hour. What had started as a slight nuisance of the clouds took the form of a slow drizzle now. He looked around, trying to search a place where he could stand for a minute or two until the drizzle stopped.
Who on earth will want to get wet in the rain, in the freezing evening of late December, that too at a place like Simla ?
The drizzle was on a rise now and he started getting anxious for a place. Suddenly his eyes fell on a house, slightly bigger that the ones near it, with a pronounced portico and a garage space.
"Lets get in there.", he said to himself and ran in.
A minute or two passed and the wind was blowing faster now, swooshing the air and making strange noises. The light inside was on, and the windows were open too. Buy there wasn't any sound of the rush that occurs to close the window and shutters when it begins to rain. No sign of life, yet the house looked very much in inhabited and posh, so to say.
O the other hand there was some activity going on in the house, though not of the type he was expecting.The magazines were flying outta the table and the racks, and falling hither and thither. The gusts of strong wind that was blowing now, flew the pages of the books open, that lay on the granite centre spread sitting in the centre of the room.
Books, magazines, newspapers were everywhere he noticed now. On the shelf that hung on the wall that stood in front of the window he was watching through. On the sofa, that cowered the centre spread, on the rack that stood at the far end.
And all of them were flapping themselves in anger perhaps. The wind was blowing them all. And yet no one seemed to care ?
"Whats wrong with this place ?", he said in silence again.
"Maybe I should have stayed on a bit longer at the Starbucks coffee shop with that company client. And could have left after this damn rain got over, he was even offering me a lift. Damn !!"
Just then a car, appeared to coming in his direction from the gate. It did, and placed near the garage. He peeked on.
The door opened and a woman disembarked from the backseat, just the silhouette of her Saree visible from where he was standing. She slowly started walking towards him and this brought a certain uncomfortability and a slight twitch in his stance.
She saw him from a distance, just a few steps away and he began to think,
" Now she's gonna say, 'Who is it ?' and I'll say 'Your son-in-law from America ma'am. Damn, I should have stayed back at Starbucks."
But no, instead her face lit up instantly in a glow that he hadn't seen in a long time, specially from a person who was meeting him even after an eternity.
" Abhisekh ???!!!!!! "
Is that you ?? I had no idea you were gonna come. Why dint you call us ? I could have sent the driver to pick you up ? And how long have you been standing here ? Are you wet darling ?
Come on in. You seem tired. "
He let out an impish smile and walked in after her.
" Sit down. Oh my God, this house is in a mess, I had no idea, I'd left the windows open. All the books look like they've been just strewn around.
Give me one moment darling, I'll just set this up. "
He continued looking at her without a word and gave a slight nod to what she was saying. She must have been in her early fifties. Graceful, poised and quite a beauty for her age. He saw her arrange the room in a jiffy then take her cell-phone outta her purse and punch in some no. and put it to her ears.
" Honey, you wont believe who's here at home now. No, its Abhisekh. Yeah,
I know you're surprised. Yes, you gotta be here right now. Come soon. "
And she put the phone on the centerspread. A Samsung D820. Fine taste, he wondered while she walked inside. A few minutes passed by and he got up and walked over to the window to see whether the rain had stopped or not.
" Huh...and I was thinking of a ride by the Penang ferry. Lord you're great." , he said himself.
" Here you are dear. You must be cold. I have your favourite tea here. C'mon lets have a sip while we talk. "
He walked back and took his seat while she handed him the cup. He took a sip and she started.
"So how's Priti ? She dint come with you ? That girl, her work will kill her someday. I'd told her to come when you were coming but she was a bit apprehensive about it coz of her job. Is your job keeping you so busy dear and where are you staying by the way ?"
" Oh, in a hotel hear the Penang lake. I'm alone as always. "
" Hmm...so how are you guys doing. Priti hasn't called in a long while. Is she always this busy or is it that she's not bothered anymore. Tell her to call me up more often. And son, dont you think you should drop in a call at times. After all I'm like your mother too.
And yes, you're not going anywhere tonight. I'll make you your favourite chicken sandwich. And then your uncle, you and me can have a long chat. "
" I'm sorry auntie, but I need to go. I have a client waiting for me and I also have to catch my flight tomorrow noon. I gotta pack for that. "
" Then you should have come here earlier. You dint have to wait till the last moment. I dont know anything. I'm not leaving yo until your uncle's home to see you. Till then kindly stay son. Its so nice having you here. "
Time passed on. They chatted. Talked about different things. In the middle if it somewhere the husband arrived. And they chatted some more. Soon it was time to get up and leave.
"I'll have the driver drop you" he said, and summoned the guy. He bid adieu to the couple and left with a smile on his face.
The drive back was very short, yet he felt like an eternity had passed and that he had gone into a very different world. Different from the world he resided in this day. All the while he kept glaring at the car's dashboard display. Its numbers and signs looked like they were telling him a different story, a saga of God's miraculous ways and wild coincidences.
He reached his hotel, changed to his pyjamas and lied down on the bed, in the posh ,richly furnished room. He closed his eyes, to shut the images from haunting him any more. But his mind was determined to play tricks and kept making him go back to the evening until he dint know when he fell asleep.
He woke up to a slow ringing of phone. The watch showed 7 am.
"Who could be there , now ? Room service ?? I'd told them not to disturb be until I called them."
Picked it up anyway.
"Yes ?"
"Sir, sorry to disturb you at this hour. But there's a gentleman here, who insists on meeting you right now."
"Yeah ? Who's it ?"
"Sir we asked him but he said you dont know. He never could tell it to you."
What on earth is that ?
"Alright, send him in and yes, two cups of tea please."
He rushed to the bathroom to wash his face and brush as fast as he could.
Came back to the room and tried settling his things lying around when he heard the doorbell.
He said a silent prayer, "Lord, let it be not that client of yesterday's evening, using another dirty trick to waste my time with futile trials of convincing me with his crappy ass proposals.". And opened the door.
Outside the door beside the boy was standing a tall, slightly chubby man in a pin-stripe blue suit. Gray hair, and wrinkled eyes, and a warm smile. He held a packet in his hands and wore the look of an expectancy on his face.
"May I come in ?", he asked.
"Yeah, sure. I'm sorry I..."
"No, that's OK. it happens when you are seeing someone you dont expect to come to you even at your funeral."
"Please take a seat. And I must admit I am quite surprised."
"Last night was a very strange night for you as well as for me Mr....."
"Shivanesan, or just Shiv."
"Yeah, right. Shiv. The way you came to my place and Bina ushered you in without as much as a question from you. I'm surprised and apologetic at the same time."
"I dont understand."
"I'll tell you.
Priti is my daughter's name and Abhisekh is his fiance. They stay and work in America, used to stay perhaps. 6 years back they were killed on a flight to India. They were coming here for their marriage. My wife, Bina, lost her sanity coz of the crash and still believes that they are alive. She's totally fine, walks and talks and has a healthy and normal life just like any other human being except the fact that she hasn't accepted the death of her daughter and future son-in-law. Everyday she wakes up with this thought in her head that it was just a few days back that he had talked to Priti and Abhisekh and that they are gonna come here and get married someday.
Yesterday, when you came she mistook you for Abhisekh and acted accordingly. And thank heavens you dint reveal yourself then. I have not seen my wife so happy in a long time as much as she was when she saw you yesterday evening.
I am so thankful to you son. You dont have any idea how grateful I am to you for what you did. Tell me what can I do for you"
He sat there, his face gleaming with joy while, he, sat there looking at the old man, for whom he was an angel right now, totally clueless as to what he should say to him and why did what he did yesterday night.
Meanwhile,the old man spoke again.
"But I just wanted to ask you one thing. Why did you not say anything when Bina mistook you ? What kept you mum ?"
"Now, that was what has been freaking me out.", he said to himself. But yet, calmly he began.
" Years ago, when I used to live here with my parents I had met a girl called Priti and had fallen in love with her. We then got married and and later my job took me to America, with promises of a great future and happy life. But destiny had it some other way. An accident killed my wife one night and pushed me into the arms of loneliness forever. Ever since I come here atleast once every year to relive the memories my wife and me had build up here, during our courtship days.
Yesterday, at your portico when your wife called me in and started talking about Priti I thought she was talking about my wife. But it wasn't late before I realised that she was talking about some other person. But every time she uttered a sweet word about the Priti, her daughter, I felt she said a word of fondness for my wife. I know I shouldn't have done that but I just got carried away Sir.
And then when you came in and yet dint react to it, I just assumed I had struck up a chord somewhere in the middle of life where we were looking into each others eyes, trying to figure out who's the fool here ?"
With this he fell silent and it was just the morn' light that engulfed them all around. The two men sat there, for a long while, and sipped their tea. Perhaps the wind had done its talking and the air was conjuring the images together....
He finally got up and put forward his hand for a shake and said, "Bina and me will come to see you off at the airport today and you will not tell her anything of this. Let this be between the men. She sent you this packet to give it to Priti. I'm giving it to you. Give it to the girl you'll fall in love with, for I'm sure you'll find love again. Take care my boy."
With this he walked out the door. At the airport, Shiv met Bina again. They made small talk and then his flight was announced. He touched their feet and said looked into the old man's eyes while he said, "And remember, next time when you are gonna be here, you are not staying in any hotel. Dont forget this is your home too."
"Yes Sir", he said and left.
As the plane took off, he glanced out the window to see the couple still standing there, looking at the plane and waving there hands at him.
They looked like two children, with their arms raised up in the air, in prayer to the Lord, to give them back a toy they have lost, in dark of the night while they were asleep. With the hope kindled in their souls that God is there somewhere listening to their voice and that He'll give them their toy back.
He felt like God had given him something back in return.
He smiled and waved back.
Blog: http://intelligensia-cinderella.blogspot.com
"He was walking along the valleys of the mountainous terrain of Simla. It was slowly getting dark and the little houses along the valley belt had already struck up their lights, illuminating the divine twilight that the sky was spreading across now. The highway was visible towards his right, up at a higher altitude and he could see the red, blue and the yellow lights of the vehicles speeding by.
The walk was slow, rather lazy, a contrast to the others who were taking brisk steps and speeding past him. Obviously, hurrying home. Winters at this time of the year was when Simla slept right after the evening was over.
He looked up to the sky and felt a li'l drop on his nose.
"What the hell.." he said to himself. His hotel was till another 15 minutes walk and there was no way he was gonna get a rickshaw at this hour. What had started as a slight nuisance of the clouds took the form of a slow drizzle now. He looked around, trying to search a place where he could stand for a minute or two until the drizzle stopped.
Who on earth will want to get wet in the rain, in the freezing evening of late December, that too at a place like Simla ?
The drizzle was on a rise now and he started getting anxious for a place. Suddenly his eyes fell on a house, slightly bigger that the ones near it, with a pronounced portico and a garage space.
"Lets get in there.", he said to himself and ran in.
A minute or two passed and the wind was blowing faster now, swooshing the air and making strange noises. The light inside was on, and the windows were open too. Buy there wasn't any sound of the rush that occurs to close the window and shutters when it begins to rain. No sign of life, yet the house looked very much in inhabited and posh, so to say.
O the other hand there was some activity going on in the house, though not of the type he was expecting.The magazines were flying outta the table and the racks, and falling hither and thither. The gusts of strong wind that was blowing now, flew the pages of the books open, that lay on the granite centre spread sitting in the centre of the room.
Books, magazines, newspapers were everywhere he noticed now. On the shelf that hung on the wall that stood in front of the window he was watching through. On the sofa, that cowered the centre spread, on the rack that stood at the far end.
And all of them were flapping themselves in anger perhaps. The wind was blowing them all. And yet no one seemed to care ?
"Whats wrong with this place ?", he said in silence again.
"Maybe I should have stayed on a bit longer at the Starbucks coffee shop with that company client. And could have left after this damn rain got over, he was even offering me a lift. Damn !!"
Just then a car, appeared to coming in his direction from the gate. It did, and placed near the garage. He peeked on.
The door opened and a woman disembarked from the backseat, just the silhouette of her Saree visible from where he was standing. She slowly started walking towards him and this brought a certain uncomfortability and a slight twitch in his stance.
She saw him from a distance, just a few steps away and he began to think,
" Now she's gonna say, 'Who is it ?' and I'll say 'Your son-in-law from America ma'am. Damn, I should have stayed back at Starbucks."
But no, instead her face lit up instantly in a glow that he hadn't seen in a long time, specially from a person who was meeting him even after an eternity.
" Abhisekh ???!!!!!! "
Is that you ?? I had no idea you were gonna come. Why dint you call us ? I could have sent the driver to pick you up ? And how long have you been standing here ? Are you wet darling ?
Come on in. You seem tired. "
He let out an impish smile and walked in after her.
" Sit down. Oh my God, this house is in a mess, I had no idea, I'd left the windows open. All the books look like they've been just strewn around.
Give me one moment darling, I'll just set this up. "
He continued looking at her without a word and gave a slight nod to what she was saying. She must have been in her early fifties. Graceful, poised and quite a beauty for her age. He saw her arrange the room in a jiffy then take her cell-phone outta her purse and punch in some no. and put it to her ears.
" Honey, you wont believe who's here at home now. No, its Abhisekh. Yeah,
I know you're surprised. Yes, you gotta be here right now. Come soon. "
And she put the phone on the centerspread. A Samsung D820. Fine taste, he wondered while she walked inside. A few minutes passed by and he got up and walked over to the window to see whether the rain had stopped or not.
" Huh...and I was thinking of a ride by the Penang ferry. Lord you're great." , he said himself.
" Here you are dear. You must be cold. I have your favourite tea here. C'mon lets have a sip while we talk. "
He walked back and took his seat while she handed him the cup. He took a sip and she started.
"So how's Priti ? She dint come with you ? That girl, her work will kill her someday. I'd told her to come when you were coming but she was a bit apprehensive about it coz of her job. Is your job keeping you so busy dear and where are you staying by the way ?"
" Oh, in a hotel hear the Penang lake. I'm alone as always. "
" Hmm...so how are you guys doing. Priti hasn't called in a long while. Is she always this busy or is it that she's not bothered anymore. Tell her to call me up more often. And son, dont you think you should drop in a call at times. After all I'm like your mother too.
And yes, you're not going anywhere tonight. I'll make you your favourite chicken sandwich. And then your uncle, you and me can have a long chat. "
" I'm sorry auntie, but I need to go. I have a client waiting for me and I also have to catch my flight tomorrow noon. I gotta pack for that. "
" Then you should have come here earlier. You dint have to wait till the last moment. I dont know anything. I'm not leaving yo until your uncle's home to see you. Till then kindly stay son. Its so nice having you here. "
Time passed on. They chatted. Talked about different things. In the middle if it somewhere the husband arrived. And they chatted some more. Soon it was time to get up and leave.
"I'll have the driver drop you" he said, and summoned the guy. He bid adieu to the couple and left with a smile on his face.
The drive back was very short, yet he felt like an eternity had passed and that he had gone into a very different world. Different from the world he resided in this day. All the while he kept glaring at the car's dashboard display. Its numbers and signs looked like they were telling him a different story, a saga of God's miraculous ways and wild coincidences.
He reached his hotel, changed to his pyjamas and lied down on the bed, in the posh ,richly furnished room. He closed his eyes, to shut the images from haunting him any more. But his mind was determined to play tricks and kept making him go back to the evening until he dint know when he fell asleep.
He woke up to a slow ringing of phone. The watch showed 7 am.
"Who could be there , now ? Room service ?? I'd told them not to disturb be until I called them."
Picked it up anyway.
"Yes ?"
"Sir, sorry to disturb you at this hour. But there's a gentleman here, who insists on meeting you right now."
"Yeah ? Who's it ?"
"Sir we asked him but he said you dont know. He never could tell it to you."
What on earth is that ?
"Alright, send him in and yes, two cups of tea please."
He rushed to the bathroom to wash his face and brush as fast as he could.
Came back to the room and tried settling his things lying around when he heard the doorbell.
He said a silent prayer, "Lord, let it be not that client of yesterday's evening, using another dirty trick to waste my time with futile trials of convincing me with his crappy ass proposals.". And opened the door.
Outside the door beside the boy was standing a tall, slightly chubby man in a pin-stripe blue suit. Gray hair, and wrinkled eyes, and a warm smile. He held a packet in his hands and wore the look of an expectancy on his face.
"May I come in ?", he asked.
"Yeah, sure. I'm sorry I..."
"No, that's OK. it happens when you are seeing someone you dont expect to come to you even at your funeral."
"Please take a seat. And I must admit I am quite surprised."
"Last night was a very strange night for you as well as for me Mr....."
"Shivanesan, or just Shiv."
"Yeah, right. Shiv. The way you came to my place and Bina ushered you in without as much as a question from you. I'm surprised and apologetic at the same time."
"I dont understand."
"I'll tell you.
Priti is my daughter's name and Abhisekh is his fiance. They stay and work in America, used to stay perhaps. 6 years back they were killed on a flight to India. They were coming here for their marriage. My wife, Bina, lost her sanity coz of the crash and still believes that they are alive. She's totally fine, walks and talks and has a healthy and normal life just like any other human being except the fact that she hasn't accepted the death of her daughter and future son-in-law. Everyday she wakes up with this thought in her head that it was just a few days back that he had talked to Priti and Abhisekh and that they are gonna come here and get married someday.
Yesterday, when you came she mistook you for Abhisekh and acted accordingly. And thank heavens you dint reveal yourself then. I have not seen my wife so happy in a long time as much as she was when she saw you yesterday evening.
I am so thankful to you son. You dont have any idea how grateful I am to you for what you did. Tell me what can I do for you"
He sat there, his face gleaming with joy while, he, sat there looking at the old man, for whom he was an angel right now, totally clueless as to what he should say to him and why did what he did yesterday night.
Meanwhile,the old man spoke again.
"But I just wanted to ask you one thing. Why did you not say anything when Bina mistook you ? What kept you mum ?"
"Now, that was what has been freaking me out.", he said to himself. But yet, calmly he began.
" Years ago, when I used to live here with my parents I had met a girl called Priti and had fallen in love with her. We then got married and and later my job took me to America, with promises of a great future and happy life. But destiny had it some other way. An accident killed my wife one night and pushed me into the arms of loneliness forever. Ever since I come here atleast once every year to relive the memories my wife and me had build up here, during our courtship days.
Yesterday, at your portico when your wife called me in and started talking about Priti I thought she was talking about my wife. But it wasn't late before I realised that she was talking about some other person. But every time she uttered a sweet word about the Priti, her daughter, I felt she said a word of fondness for my wife. I know I shouldn't have done that but I just got carried away Sir.
And then when you came in and yet dint react to it, I just assumed I had struck up a chord somewhere in the middle of life where we were looking into each others eyes, trying to figure out who's the fool here ?"
With this he fell silent and it was just the morn' light that engulfed them all around. The two men sat there, for a long while, and sipped their tea. Perhaps the wind had done its talking and the air was conjuring the images together....
He finally got up and put forward his hand for a shake and said, "Bina and me will come to see you off at the airport today and you will not tell her anything of this. Let this be between the men. She sent you this packet to give it to Priti. I'm giving it to you. Give it to the girl you'll fall in love with, for I'm sure you'll find love again. Take care my boy."
With this he walked out the door. At the airport, Shiv met Bina again. They made small talk and then his flight was announced. He touched their feet and said looked into the old man's eyes while he said, "And remember, next time when you are gonna be here, you are not staying in any hotel. Dont forget this is your home too."
"Yes Sir", he said and left.
As the plane took off, he glanced out the window to see the couple still standing there, looking at the plane and waving there hands at him.
They looked like two children, with their arms raised up in the air, in prayer to the Lord, to give them back a toy they have lost, in dark of the night while they were asleep. With the hope kindled in their souls that God is there somewhere listening to their voice and that He'll give them their toy back.
He felt like God had given him something back in return.
He smiled and waved back.
(12) Alex's Story
Blogger: Alex M Thomas
Blog: http://philososphyofalex.blogspot.com/
I do not know the exact date I came into this earth. My parents never told me the date I was born as I have never seen them. I just believe that I do have parents anda big happy family somewhere.
I was a young boy who liked asking questions. I wanted to know the reasons for many things. I
asked people around me, but they were angry at me for asking questions. I did not understand
why they did that. I could hear them telling people who tried to think, not to think. This must
have made me to think more and more.
I kept to myself mostly. I admired the beauty around me, the grass, the brown mud, the mango
trees, the coconut palms and other houses. I saw colourful flowers.
When my friends were taught about colours in school, the teacher told them that grey, black and
brown were dull colours and green, red and orange were bright colours. And everybody wanted
and loved bright colours.
Since, I had not been to any school I liked all colours in the same way. I looked for different
colours around me and I found that this world was made up of many different colours. I liked the crows especially. My friends never thought much about the crows as they were black.
I was called a fool for not following the crowd because I liked the crows. It didn’t matter to me as
I wasn’t schooled nor brought up as the others were. In fact, I never went to any school and nor
did I have parents to bring me up.
I grew up. I did various jobs for a living. I worked in a tea stall, as a mechanic, as a painter and as a driver. There were many other jobs which I did, but were of a more ‘petty’ nature. I learnt to do many things. My friends at that time were studying in 10th standard. I used to see them get scolded for playing in the evening after coming back from school.
I used to see them rarely, so there was not much of dislike towards me. But I used to get a feeling that their parents did not approve their friendship with me as I did not fit in to their ‘standards’.
They used to tell me their desires. One friend wanted to be a doctor but their parents wanted an
engineer in the family; another wanted to be a singer, but his parents told him that a doctor is
more respectable than a singer and that they get more dowries; and the tale goes on. I asked one friend why he had not told his parents his wishes. This was his reply “I love my father very much and I don’t like to see them sad. Moreover, they took care of me so well for these many years. I should be able to sacrifice this much at least.”
The answer left me broken. I felt the pain. I cried. I felt sorry for my friend who gave up his
greatest desire for his family. And he was really proud of the sacrifice he made. I asked myself if
I would really sacrifice my greatest desire for anything. I decided I would not.
I was like a stranger in this world. My name never appeared in any newspapers. No one knew me.
No one came to me. I shifted jobs after my friends completed their 12th standard. They went to
different colleges in and outside my country.
I loved to paint. I loved to capture the beauty of the nature with my strokes. I always knew that
my paintings would never be as good as the original. The real beauty could never be copied by
me. But I still liked painting. So with all the money I had saved, I spent them on my paintings. I
would sit all day, staring at the trees and the mountains all arranged so well, as if some one had
put them all there. I used to imagine myself rearranging the hills and the trees and placing them
elsewhere. But the rearrangement never looked as beautiful as the real one. I spent nights without drawing; but just staring into the star filled sky and at times into the dark sky. I tried counting the number of stars. I was never able to count them fully as I used to get confused in between and I just knew to count till hundred.
I used to roam around, travel widely in buses and trains. Whenever I was in villages I preferred
traveling in bullock driven carts. I enjoyed the bumpy ride. I used to travel just for the sake of the ‘bumpy ride’.
I had earned money and had kept away some for my paintings. I had never been in banks because I didn’t know how to fill up forms and I didn’t find the need to.
I am sixty years old now. When I look back at my past, it seems just like a dream to me. I came
with nothing and I know I will go with nothing too. Out of these sixty years, I traveled through
towns, cities and villages. Villages always used to be my weakness. So here I am aged and living
in a village. In my thatched cottage, I have devoted one room for my paintings. No one has ever
seen them and I doubt if anyone would ever see them.
I cry thinking of all the people who sacrificed their dreams for their loved ones. I still cry thinking of people who view black as dull. For a painter, all colours are equally important. I still cry for people who compare themselves with others and end up feeling dejected. I don’t know if my cries will last longer. I know I have not taken anything from this world.
I still think of the day when I decided to follow my dream, the dream to become a painter. I rest
everyday knowing within, that I have succeeded.
Blog: http://philososphyofalex.blogspot.com/
I do not know the exact date I came into this earth. My parents never told me the date I was born as I have never seen them. I just believe that I do have parents anda big happy family somewhere.
I was a young boy who liked asking questions. I wanted to know the reasons for many things. I
asked people around me, but they were angry at me for asking questions. I did not understand
why they did that. I could hear them telling people who tried to think, not to think. This must
have made me to think more and more.
I kept to myself mostly. I admired the beauty around me, the grass, the brown mud, the mango
trees, the coconut palms and other houses. I saw colourful flowers.
When my friends were taught about colours in school, the teacher told them that grey, black and
brown were dull colours and green, red and orange were bright colours. And everybody wanted
and loved bright colours.
Since, I had not been to any school I liked all colours in the same way. I looked for different
colours around me and I found that this world was made up of many different colours. I liked the crows especially. My friends never thought much about the crows as they were black.
I was called a fool for not following the crowd because I liked the crows. It didn’t matter to me as
I wasn’t schooled nor brought up as the others were. In fact, I never went to any school and nor
did I have parents to bring me up.
I grew up. I did various jobs for a living. I worked in a tea stall, as a mechanic, as a painter and as a driver. There were many other jobs which I did, but were of a more ‘petty’ nature. I learnt to do many things. My friends at that time were studying in 10th standard. I used to see them get scolded for playing in the evening after coming back from school.
I used to see them rarely, so there was not much of dislike towards me. But I used to get a feeling that their parents did not approve their friendship with me as I did not fit in to their ‘standards’.
They used to tell me their desires. One friend wanted to be a doctor but their parents wanted an
engineer in the family; another wanted to be a singer, but his parents told him that a doctor is
more respectable than a singer and that they get more dowries; and the tale goes on. I asked one friend why he had not told his parents his wishes. This was his reply “I love my father very much and I don’t like to see them sad. Moreover, they took care of me so well for these many years. I should be able to sacrifice this much at least.”
The answer left me broken. I felt the pain. I cried. I felt sorry for my friend who gave up his
greatest desire for his family. And he was really proud of the sacrifice he made. I asked myself if
I would really sacrifice my greatest desire for anything. I decided I would not.
I was like a stranger in this world. My name never appeared in any newspapers. No one knew me.
No one came to me. I shifted jobs after my friends completed their 12th standard. They went to
different colleges in and outside my country.
I loved to paint. I loved to capture the beauty of the nature with my strokes. I always knew that
my paintings would never be as good as the original. The real beauty could never be copied by
me. But I still liked painting. So with all the money I had saved, I spent them on my paintings. I
would sit all day, staring at the trees and the mountains all arranged so well, as if some one had
put them all there. I used to imagine myself rearranging the hills and the trees and placing them
elsewhere. But the rearrangement never looked as beautiful as the real one. I spent nights without drawing; but just staring into the star filled sky and at times into the dark sky. I tried counting the number of stars. I was never able to count them fully as I used to get confused in between and I just knew to count till hundred.
I used to roam around, travel widely in buses and trains. Whenever I was in villages I preferred
traveling in bullock driven carts. I enjoyed the bumpy ride. I used to travel just for the sake of the ‘bumpy ride’.
I had earned money and had kept away some for my paintings. I had never been in banks because I didn’t know how to fill up forms and I didn’t find the need to.
I am sixty years old now. When I look back at my past, it seems just like a dream to me. I came
with nothing and I know I will go with nothing too. Out of these sixty years, I traveled through
towns, cities and villages. Villages always used to be my weakness. So here I am aged and living
in a village. In my thatched cottage, I have devoted one room for my paintings. No one has ever
seen them and I doubt if anyone would ever see them.
I cry thinking of all the people who sacrificed their dreams for their loved ones. I still cry thinking of people who view black as dull. For a painter, all colours are equally important. I still cry for people who compare themselves with others and end up feeling dejected. I don’t know if my cries will last longer. I know I have not taken anything from this world.
I still think of the day when I decided to follow my dream, the dream to become a painter. I rest
everyday knowing within, that I have succeeded.
(11) Nirek's Story
Blogger: Nirek
Blog: http://nirek.blogspot.com
A black Aston Martin babe skids past the flyover like a pro Ice skater waltzes onBlog: http://nirek.blogspot.com
the ballroom. Ashwin gazes at his rear view mirror with a cruel killer instinct. There are
red light spots in his mirror; the sleuths are chasing him for the past ten minutes. His gaze
lands on the face of the girl, who lay lifeless in his rear seat. Her face is frozen like a pale
ice brick; her black eyes are popping out like Chinese candies. The white dress is tainted
with dark red blood bleeding near her heart. A gun fire at close range should have killed
her. Her dress shows that she was a beautiful damsel in her life before death. Period. His
babe speeds past 120 Kmph with onboard cruise control. Ashwin manages to smile
suppressing the sublime depression. When he brings his attention back to front side, he
barely notices a speeding cross country truck coming towards him. He scrambles, cuts the
cruise control, and tries to switch on the collision avoidance system. The blue cockpit
screen turns on, the microprocessor pukes out words. “System Failure, Target is too
close. Please apply the master break. The button is at the right end of...” Screeeeeeeeeech.
The scene widens to a beautiful beach stretch. There on the white sand, a beautiful
couple hugs each other crazily as if they gonna eat each other. That looks like they are in
a vacation in Easter Islands. Ashwin is a well built, six feet personality. The yellow
Lamborghini parked near them tells that our hero is crazy about cars.
“Honey, I love you. Love you madly you know. You were looking like an angel, you see,
an angel from heaven in my birthday party yesterday night. Half the eyes in the party hall
were looking at you, when we danced. And you know what…My dad had gifted me a
new Aston Martin yesterday. I can’t forget this birthday dear. Undoubtedly this is the best
birthday ever in my life. Thanks Honey. I Love you sweeto!” The beautiful girl on his
cuddle is Lara, the Icy cool girl of this generation. She is a contender for Ms. Earth
competition, which is going on in Easter Islands this year. “You are my sweet heart,
honey. I will do anything to make your life bliss. Your love makes me feel like a blessed
girl, you know”.
Sun is racing past the mountains in horizon, spews out the bright orange rays to
color the sky at dusk. Ashwin cell phones kicks up indicating the call from his sweet
heart. “Honey, when are you reaching the venue? I am getting tensed. I wanna see your
smiling face before entering the stage. It’s the D-day and I am dressed to clinch the title.
You should see me and I will wait for you dear. Coooooommmmmmme soon”.
Ashwin mind goes blank; all he wants to do is to reach the hall as early as possible. He
zips pasts the ongoing traffic in the highway, rushes to the venue like a mad man. He
curses himself for leaving Lara alone in the venue and for coming to airport at the wee
hours to pick up his new babe. His cockpit screen throws out a beautiful icon with music;
it says a new message; he touches the new mail icon. Mail reads as “Son, I am flying to
New York with your mom tonight. We will be there with you in Easter Islands day after
tomorrow right on the dot for your engagement. Hope you are having fun with your new
babe too. Love you dear”.
May be he should not have left her alone. He didn’t know at that time that he
never gonna see her lively smile again. When he manages to reach the hall, there is a
huge round of applause. “Ladies and Gentleman, Welcome to this grand finale. We have
six beauty queens here and the judges for the occasion are….” Ashwin runs like a
madman to her personal room at backstage. As he opens the door and steps in; a gunshot;
she falls in his hands lifeless; a guy with black jacket runs past him. That guy, our villain,
jumps into his car and vanishes in the highway. Ashwin in Aston Martin with his girl is
on fire behind that car.
Huge noise; people are pouring in the highway to see that twin crash. Both cars
had collided into that mammoth truck. As clock ticks fast, Ashwin gets back his
consciousness; manages to come out of his car. With all the depression and
aggressiveness in his eyes, he runs towards the other car. That is also badly damaged.
People had pulled out the driver. Ashwin runs to see the killer. He couldn’t believe his
eyes, “Daaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddd! Is that you?”
“Shit! Look at Ashwin. He had bed wetted again. Wake him up and take him to
the rest room please” Ashwin papa is shouting at his peak to his wife in that wee hours of
night. “Don’t worry dear. He is still an eight year old kid. He should be learning to sleep
like a guy soon. May be he had a bad nightmare!”
(10) Marutham's Story
Blogger: Marutham
Blog: http://paddyfieldprincess.blogspot.com/
It was a beautiful day….. The very sight of THE LIMESTONE HILL ALONG THE HIGH WAY was amazing. It was a very special day! Today, the high way that connects the Kuala Lumpur to Sungai Petani, a small beautiful town -had 3 special people watching this beautiful sight .The Limestone hill had seen so many travelers who pass this way everyday. But many of them fail to even simply turn their heads and take a quenching look at this awesome tall masterpiece of nature. There are hundreds of birds that – do not fail to do that, they don’t waste time on earning money to live happily, but yet live a very happy life. Every morning the limestone hill had hundreds of singers- not the vocalists though- but yes the chirps of the cute birds that live there- even the best of the best orchestra would jaw drop on seeing their beautiful co-ordination & rendering. Anyone lucky enough to hear that- would want nothing in life but to hear that forever! Adding more beauty to the limestone hill was the highways. It looked so much like the hill was given its bow- the Black road, for being the best! And in this strip of ribbon did we have the 3 wonderful people traveling in different vehicles at considerably a short distance between each other. They are related in a strange way but yet not connected until this day! Like the little one’s say- there were 3 cars. Car 1,2 & 3.
Inside CAR 1:
The first one to hit this spot that u see in the picture was the family of a middle class doctor trying his hard to satisfy the NEEDS- needs of his family, work & society – to mark him a happy living man. That is as such a statement. Do you think he was one? Well, only from the outside & definitely not today! His little heart was so much in pain – a pain that even a man who had a fall from Mt.Everest but lying in the bottom ALIVE with fracture in every bone his body has would not be able to explain. It was the pain of losing someone inspite of knowing the fact that the someone – loves him so much & yet is moving away. The ‘someone’ is Shantha- wife of the best doctor in Sungai petani, Mother of the cutest little angel – ‘INIYA’ whose smartness is definitely acquired from her father Shanmugan & the gentle-angelic nature from Shantha herself. The family and each one, sound like the kind in a fairytale, then what could possibly be upsetting shanmugan? Hm… here is the bitter truth, this ride that the family is having is not any fun ride. Shantha was leaving Shanmugan once for all & she was heading to her mothers place. Shanmugan is not a betrayer, neither a drunkard nor a gambler and ofcourse a very loyal husband. Then why -shantha leave him? Well, do we know the term immaturity?
Shantha was gazing at this beautiful sight of the hill while little iniya was singing & playing “Itzy bitzy spider…”Iniya has just picked up few new rhymes. For her age- iniya is an excellent chat box & is so adorably cute when she talks. Before 4 years in the same road, same car – same family but iniya wasn’t born yet. That was the first time Shantha spotted this beautiful sight of “limestone hill”.This was a special spot ,for in the long drive- the first utterance that shanmugan heard shantha uttered was “What is the name of this hill,dear?” And during the long drive- first time shanmugan looked at her eyes & said “ That’s called the limestone hill, Honey!”. Should we call it their honeymoon- alright it was. Shantha & Shanmugan were married that year & they were driving home for the first time. Shantha was an educated and very conservative Indian girl. She loved shanmugan & the passion for his work so much. But until she realized that she will have to spare him for his work too. Or did she even realize that? They had the usual happy couple story until their first anniversary. But then, things started to change. Shanmugan remained the same-the same old sincere doctor, loyal loving husband. And probably that was the problem. Shanmugan is the type of man- who wants to listen to what the wife feels & respect her feelings. But just that sometimes forgets to warn her if it was wrong or not practical enough. He was never harsh on her, even at times when she would act the most stupid way. Shanmugan felt that she would understand and adjust in the course of time. Most men would think the same, but what they all forget to think is that- this tender mold shall take bad shape if not shapened at the right time when they tend to shape into a wrong mold or even take a bad one as their example. Like any other too sweet guy, Shanmugan did the same. But time only forced him to change. In the course of time- they had their cutest little angel delivered straight from the land of good children. The first time shanmugan felt those tender arms in his, he could not relate it to any other feeling- and had tears roll down his cheeks. Having himself been a doctor to attend many delivery cases, it was yet a very special thing for him to hold his Junior Shantha- who very much had the same charm & sweet smile of shantha. They both spent almost all the night talking about what they shall plan for their little angel. Next day- they drove home. And it was this tall figure here- that is standing tall & proud- the very same way even today. It was the limestone hill. Shantha insisted to shanmugan that they stop at this spot & take a snap with their little angel- for this hill was special. You know, why! They lived happily, but just that shantha’s complains kept growing year by year. They even outgrew their love for each other & it was after that- the shake was felt. All that shanmugan was doing is for the family, and shantha did know that too. She ofcourse knows what other men are like- in this world. Some of her friends have even told her that they envy shanmugan for his dignity & loyalty to his wife. But shantha- had this complain- that can never change anything the way shanmugan is. She wanted shanmugan for only them & she forgot to give importance to what his goal in life is & as a loving wife to co-operate him achieve it. Isn’t that what family is for? Shanmugan was a very sensitive & affectionate man. He tried to explain shantha what his work is like & this is how it would be- if they want to maintain this status in the society. More over all his life- this was his dream- dream to save lives & invent new things to save more life. His research work & his duty as a doctor was his foremost duty. He even tried telling her that- other than work all he had in mind was to spend his remaining time with family & he did manage to spend quiet sometime for iniya, who needed daddy’s attention so much. But yes, as a matter of fact the big iniya- yes, shantha almost like a second kid ,but too immature- seem to have wanted even the more attention. And Shanmugan tried to explain things & convince shantha. But every time this topic comes up - it would end in the angry walkout of shantha. And shanmugan at one point was tired of trying & thought she would understand him at some point & reduced the number of times he attempted to convince her.
“Mommie am hungry. Can u give me my choco bar?” interrupted iniya.
“Yes dear! Sure.” And Shantha took her hand bag & took out the bar chocolate & handed it to iniya. She noticed the old picture that was in her handbag always. It was the first photograph, the 3 of them & the limestone hill were all together in.
Shantha thought for a moment” Everything seems the same here Me, Shanmugan-except for the bald and few grey hairs he is developing & Iniya who is now independent enough to eat her food. What has changed? I do not see any change at all other than may be, that I am making a change now- shanmugan would travel alone in this car from now on. Probably the last drive & last time- iniya shall play itzy bitzy in her father’s car,ask question to her dad, and yet he answers all that with his gentle answers & give his ice breaking smile. What am I about to do? What is the problem I have with this wonderful man- who even now is so considerate & loving towards me & his kid when he knows I have made this dumb decision to desert him & leave him alone- in his already bored life! If it was like this for me, what would it be like for him to take so much of stress & unnecessary complains from me. He doesn’t cheat on me or neither is he spending money in the wrong way. Why would I make a dumb move like this, to leave such a lovely man- who is working so hard to save the life of someone who hardly knows him or even spend his time ,to help them recover or atleast survive for few more days or even hours to spend with their loved ones. Am I being too self centered here? Is this me? What has happened to me? Where is the co-operative shantha, who was always happy at making others happy? Has my age changed it all or is it my feeling of insecurity? “
With these thoughts in her mind she once again looked at the limestone hill. It was standing tall & is the support of life for those millions of birds, insects & animals that live there.And there was this sudden blow of wind that seemed like a silly attempt by the wind to cut the hill into two. Shantha turned to look at shanmugan. He was driving with his calm face for the first time so upset & confused. And his eyes – that hardly had any sleep after those hectic night shifts were now looking more pathetic with the pain. Shanmugan noticed shantha looking at him and asked “Honey, are you feeling too cold. Should I stop for a drink?” Shantha thought –‘ Damn! What a fool I am to hurt this wonderful soul for just him not spending enough time with us. After all he is trying to be good. Good as a doctor, good as a father & he is a very good husband. What was I thinking?! ‘
And shantha replied with a soft tone “ Am doing just fine sweetheart. Will you listen to what I got to say?”
And shanmugan replied “ Yes honey, the tickets are all fine. Everything is arranged. And do not worry – iniya will not make a fuss that am not joining. I told her that mommy & iniya are going to get a gift for daddy.So it better be a surprise for daddy. She is fine with it. But you will have to manage her for few more days after you land there with some answer. I still haven’t come up with a better one honey. Do not worry.She is a very good girl…”
Shantha interrupted “ Will you please stop with being too nice a husband to a stupid wife? And…” She gently smiled & gave one of her naughty winks after so many many years. She continued “ I actually want you to spare sometime for me- are you free for that?” Shanmugan replied “ I have no work for this weekend honey, tell me. What is it?”
Shantha said “I want you to come with us during this trip”
Shanmugan said “I wish I could. But you see dear, am not that strong a father. And it would be hell for me when I return alone without you both by my side”
Shantha said “Well, why would you return alone when we are both going to be sitting right next to you? This would just be a visit to my mom to tell her that her big girl is doing just fine & knows her responsibilities as a wife and mother & the responsibilities of her Prince charming- the greatest doctor ever. And also remind her that- it was just a small vacation the family could spare on an old ladies house, for my husband has to get back to his work the next week & I should get back to pack him his lunch. We shall also do a little shopping there at my favorite mall. Honey, what are we going to get special from there?”
Shanmugan with all glee said “We are returning with the HAPPIEST FAMILY…This is the best drive I ever had in this limestone hill highway. This shall be the best day in my life, not even our wedding day was this special! I got back my lost possession- my understanding & loving wife. I love you!! And I love you forever!!!”
Inside CAR-2 travelling at 60kmph:
The music system was screaming,
“There's nothing you can know that isn't known.
Nothing you can see that isn't shown.
Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.
It's easy.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.”
Yes! It was the song by-The Beatles
A very deep voice spoke.
“ Hey lara, look! Do u remember that hill? Come on- you dumbo! It’s the limestone hill.Don’t you remember the last time we were here?You won the panting contest for painting this gorgeous during a sunset.Duh?”
Lara with amusement said “Harry!! You remember that? How could I possibly forget that time, you drove me here & it really took so long for the sun that day to set. We even joked if it had forgotten its schedule. How can I forget the long chat we had that day while waiting for the sun to set? We had even forgotten about the test we had next day. I even remember your mark, you scored a 90, while I ended up in an 89. Just 89! “
Harry with a smile said “And looks like some one forgot that- they also won the first place for that painting contest & with all the cash- planned a grand celebration inside her piggie bank. That was indeed very generous of you- little missy!”
Both Lara & harry had a big laugh. And there was silence after that.
Lara broke the silence and spoke “ Harry, do you really have to go outside of Sungai Petani to pursue your degree? Can you not do it here? Do you think the best college can only provide the best knowledge? I remember you telling me- if you have involvement, dedication, resource & good guidance, where you study does not even matter. All that are here. Why not stay here with us? “
Harry was not actually keen in leaving his home and moving away for studies. The only hope with which he was ready to leave was Lara. Lara is a very close family friend. Lara’s dad & Harry’s dad were thick friends. So were lara & harry. From their childhood they were both together, their first day of school, their first day at piano class. They were all the time together. Both the family- moved very close & they loved each other so much. One day, lara’s parents left her at harry’s place and left for a wedding for it may take a day or two to return. And Lara’s dad said on a funny note “ Do take real good care of my sweetie. And do not let go off her, until we return.” The next day, Lara had her exams so she couldn’t join them. She stayed at Harry’s house that day & the two had prepared so well for the test. But the next day when Lara returned home – she had to hear the worst news. Her parents had died in a tragic accident. Lara felt that pain- the pain in her heart that was like squeezing with thousands of thorny strings. More than Lara, Harry felt it very painful- when he saw his best of best buddy shed tears. Neither was harry old enough to console her, nor did he know how to. So, he stood lost & with tears. Harry’s family was very considerate towards lara that they decided to bring her up.Lara & Harry had a very special bond. And most of all harry’s parents loved lara. And today during the drive along the highways- harrys mobile rang. He picked it up and it was harry’s father in the other end. He said “Harry, how are u? Am calling from Canada now & I shall return home by next month. Are you on your way to the airport now? Well, I just want to remind you one thing before you head to some place with many opportunities & girls around. This could sound too absurd to you right now. But answer me- can u consider Lara as your life partner? This may be too early to ask, but your mom was worried you find somegirl at your college & return home with her. She feels that Lara is the best for our family too. She understands all of us very well. And do not tell me Lara may have something else in her mind. That sweet girl had been in love with you all these years & after you both left home- your mom had found Lara’s diray where she had written all about her love for you. She is too timid to tell it out. So son, remember there is the best girl waiting for you here. I hope you give me a positive answer.”
Harry was so excited for he had the same feeling about her & was only afraid if she may not like it. Harry responded “ What question is that dad?? Definitely, Yes!! And Dad, let me hang up now – I got some talking to do before we reach the airport. Take care dad! And thank you & thanks to Mom”
Harry stopped the car and asked Lara to get down & walk to the side of the road with him. He then picked up one of the smallest flower- the wild yellow little flower from the side of the road & spoke ”Lara! Will you marry me?” Lara- gave harry a big hug & said” Well, why would I say no? Come on now handsome, you got a flight to catch. Let’s drive” They got into the car & Harry with a big smile drove the car to the airport. At this moment, Lara had her heart filled with joy & happiness – and most of all a feeling of security.
INSIDE CAR3:
Inside this car, there was the Warden driving his young student to airport- for the boy to have a vacation with his family.This little boy was Rocky Parker, he was put in a boarding school. Rocky was a very notorious & smart boy. But most of the time would on purpose get into trouble & he enjoys the attention he gets being that way. One cannot under estimate him as a dull headed-notorious one,but an A+ scoring naughty little boy. Every time there was a PTA meeting, all the teachers would stand in a queue to complain to the Parkers. This mostly worried Rocky’s mother a lot. She once even broke into tears for, rocky being a sweet & smart boy- yet always gets the most complains & has a bad impression at school. Rocky remember the last time his mom visited here & during the drive at near this limestone hill, she told him that- by the next vacation- Rocky should have changed into a nice - disciplined, adorable boy. If he has changed into one- she promised that she shall make rocky study there with them and he shall not return to this school where he stays in a hostel, which is almost like a prison-cell. Rocky simply had to prove himself as a good boy.Well, he is a good boy. But only was pretending to be a naughty one- for it got him all attention & made him famous among his inmates. Rocky wanted to be a good son. He just was too playful. This day, Rocky decided to be a nice boy & make his parents proud of what he is going to be. He knew that he had all potential. He was always in top 2 in his class. Rocky has no problem with anything- studies, sports, creative activities, making friends, and ofcourse also being naughty. Ricky thought “If I can be good at all these- I can also be good at being a good obedient boy. And if that is the only thing worrying my sweet mom, I shall change that too. I shall be a good boy from now on & make her really happy. He made this decision & then- when he looked out through the window. Oops… the limestone hill wasn’t there. Not that some one removed it from that place. Rocky looked around and saw the board that read ” The Penang International Airport” ,yes it is the Kuala Lumpur International Airport , they have reached the airport. Rocky got down from the car & followed his warden inside the airport & then to the waiting room. There Rocky spotted this cute little princess playing “Itzy bitzy spider…”. The little girls father & mother seemed busy talking to another young couple. Rocky heard the young man tell the father “ Sir, ofcourse we loved your lectures. And it’s that & your sincerity-which has motivated me to find cure for more disease. And am leaving to seek my higher studies.This is Lara- and we are going to be wedded real soon,sir.”
And then rocky heard the mother say “Lara, this profession our men are into is not an easy one. It needs dedication. And most of all our sacrifice, co-operation&understanding. I hope you do not commit the mistakes that I did. But now as I told you, I have realized my mistakes. I have made the correct move- to rectify it. I wish you & Harry have a great life. We shall meet when we return back.” Then little went towards the little princess- Iniya & started to chat with her. Iniya while playing told Rocky all about their plan, the change in plan & that her father is joining them.Then Rocky interrupted saying “ Don’t you get it. They were both planning to get divorced & now they have decided to live together.” Iniya then questioned “ What is divorce, what does it mean, Rocky?” Rocky said” Na…You don’t need to know the meaning.Your life & your family’s future took a wild turn during the drive you said. You are one lucky idiot.Oops, am a good boy now. Sorry! Let me put it this way— You are a very lucky angel. Atleast my parents dint have any such thought. I shall never be a bad boy again. The best I can give for such lovely parents is being a nice boy.You have fun Iniya, I shall go ring my mom before we take off.Chao!”
And so- the limestone hill did have that special smile for today- it had seen three wonderful people & it had stood there tall & proud to remind them about something- that they forgot offlate. About love, responsibility & pay back.
Blog: http://paddyfieldprincess.blogspot.com/
It was a beautiful day….. The very sight of THE LIMESTONE HILL ALONG THE HIGH WAY was amazing. It was a very special day! Today, the high way that connects the Kuala Lumpur to Sungai Petani, a small beautiful town -had 3 special people watching this beautiful sight .The Limestone hill had seen so many travelers who pass this way everyday. But many of them fail to even simply turn their heads and take a quenching look at this awesome tall masterpiece of nature. There are hundreds of birds that – do not fail to do that, they don’t waste time on earning money to live happily, but yet live a very happy life. Every morning the limestone hill had hundreds of singers- not the vocalists though- but yes the chirps of the cute birds that live there- even the best of the best orchestra would jaw drop on seeing their beautiful co-ordination & rendering. Anyone lucky enough to hear that- would want nothing in life but to hear that forever! Adding more beauty to the limestone hill was the highways. It looked so much like the hill was given its bow- the Black road, for being the best! And in this strip of ribbon did we have the 3 wonderful people traveling in different vehicles at considerably a short distance between each other. They are related in a strange way but yet not connected until this day! Like the little one’s say- there were 3 cars. Car 1,2 & 3.
Inside CAR 1:
The first one to hit this spot that u see in the picture was the family of a middle class doctor trying his hard to satisfy the NEEDS- needs of his family, work & society – to mark him a happy living man. That is as such a statement. Do you think he was one? Well, only from the outside & definitely not today! His little heart was so much in pain – a pain that even a man who had a fall from Mt.Everest but lying in the bottom ALIVE with fracture in every bone his body has would not be able to explain. It was the pain of losing someone inspite of knowing the fact that the someone – loves him so much & yet is moving away. The ‘someone’ is Shantha- wife of the best doctor in Sungai petani, Mother of the cutest little angel – ‘INIYA’ whose smartness is definitely acquired from her father Shanmugan & the gentle-angelic nature from Shantha herself. The family and each one, sound like the kind in a fairytale, then what could possibly be upsetting shanmugan? Hm… here is the bitter truth, this ride that the family is having is not any fun ride. Shantha was leaving Shanmugan once for all & she was heading to her mothers place. Shanmugan is not a betrayer, neither a drunkard nor a gambler and ofcourse a very loyal husband. Then why -shantha leave him? Well, do we know the term immaturity?
Shantha was gazing at this beautiful sight of the hill while little iniya was singing & playing “Itzy bitzy spider…”Iniya has just picked up few new rhymes. For her age- iniya is an excellent chat box & is so adorably cute when she talks. Before 4 years in the same road, same car – same family but iniya wasn’t born yet. That was the first time Shantha spotted this beautiful sight of “limestone hill”.This was a special spot ,for in the long drive- the first utterance that shanmugan heard shantha uttered was “What is the name of this hill,dear?” And during the long drive- first time shanmugan looked at her eyes & said “ That’s called the limestone hill, Honey!”. Should we call it their honeymoon- alright it was. Shantha & Shanmugan were married that year & they were driving home for the first time. Shantha was an educated and very conservative Indian girl. She loved shanmugan & the passion for his work so much. But until she realized that she will have to spare him for his work too. Or did she even realize that? They had the usual happy couple story until their first anniversary. But then, things started to change. Shanmugan remained the same-the same old sincere doctor, loyal loving husband. And probably that was the problem. Shanmugan is the type of man- who wants to listen to what the wife feels & respect her feelings. But just that sometimes forgets to warn her if it was wrong or not practical enough. He was never harsh on her, even at times when she would act the most stupid way. Shanmugan felt that she would understand and adjust in the course of time. Most men would think the same, but what they all forget to think is that- this tender mold shall take bad shape if not shapened at the right time when they tend to shape into a wrong mold or even take a bad one as their example. Like any other too sweet guy, Shanmugan did the same. But time only forced him to change. In the course of time- they had their cutest little angel delivered straight from the land of good children. The first time shanmugan felt those tender arms in his, he could not relate it to any other feeling- and had tears roll down his cheeks. Having himself been a doctor to attend many delivery cases, it was yet a very special thing for him to hold his Junior Shantha- who very much had the same charm & sweet smile of shantha. They both spent almost all the night talking about what they shall plan for their little angel. Next day- they drove home. And it was this tall figure here- that is standing tall & proud- the very same way even today. It was the limestone hill. Shantha insisted to shanmugan that they stop at this spot & take a snap with their little angel- for this hill was special. You know, why! They lived happily, but just that shantha’s complains kept growing year by year. They even outgrew their love for each other & it was after that- the shake was felt. All that shanmugan was doing is for the family, and shantha did know that too. She ofcourse knows what other men are like- in this world. Some of her friends have even told her that they envy shanmugan for his dignity & loyalty to his wife. But shantha- had this complain- that can never change anything the way shanmugan is. She wanted shanmugan for only them & she forgot to give importance to what his goal in life is & as a loving wife to co-operate him achieve it. Isn’t that what family is for? Shanmugan was a very sensitive & affectionate man. He tried to explain shantha what his work is like & this is how it would be- if they want to maintain this status in the society. More over all his life- this was his dream- dream to save lives & invent new things to save more life. His research work & his duty as a doctor was his foremost duty. He even tried telling her that- other than work all he had in mind was to spend his remaining time with family & he did manage to spend quiet sometime for iniya, who needed daddy’s attention so much. But yes, as a matter of fact the big iniya- yes, shantha almost like a second kid ,but too immature- seem to have wanted even the more attention. And Shanmugan tried to explain things & convince shantha. But every time this topic comes up - it would end in the angry walkout of shantha. And shanmugan at one point was tired of trying & thought she would understand him at some point & reduced the number of times he attempted to convince her.
“Mommie am hungry. Can u give me my choco bar?” interrupted iniya.
“Yes dear! Sure.” And Shantha took her hand bag & took out the bar chocolate & handed it to iniya. She noticed the old picture that was in her handbag always. It was the first photograph, the 3 of them & the limestone hill were all together in.
Shantha thought for a moment” Everything seems the same here Me, Shanmugan-except for the bald and few grey hairs he is developing & Iniya who is now independent enough to eat her food. What has changed? I do not see any change at all other than may be, that I am making a change now- shanmugan would travel alone in this car from now on. Probably the last drive & last time- iniya shall play itzy bitzy in her father’s car,ask question to her dad, and yet he answers all that with his gentle answers & give his ice breaking smile. What am I about to do? What is the problem I have with this wonderful man- who even now is so considerate & loving towards me & his kid when he knows I have made this dumb decision to desert him & leave him alone- in his already bored life! If it was like this for me, what would it be like for him to take so much of stress & unnecessary complains from me. He doesn’t cheat on me or neither is he spending money in the wrong way. Why would I make a dumb move like this, to leave such a lovely man- who is working so hard to save the life of someone who hardly knows him or even spend his time ,to help them recover or atleast survive for few more days or even hours to spend with their loved ones. Am I being too self centered here? Is this me? What has happened to me? Where is the co-operative shantha, who was always happy at making others happy? Has my age changed it all or is it my feeling of insecurity? “
With these thoughts in her mind she once again looked at the limestone hill. It was standing tall & is the support of life for those millions of birds, insects & animals that live there.And there was this sudden blow of wind that seemed like a silly attempt by the wind to cut the hill into two. Shantha turned to look at shanmugan. He was driving with his calm face for the first time so upset & confused. And his eyes – that hardly had any sleep after those hectic night shifts were now looking more pathetic with the pain. Shanmugan noticed shantha looking at him and asked “Honey, are you feeling too cold. Should I stop for a drink?” Shantha thought –‘ Damn! What a fool I am to hurt this wonderful soul for just him not spending enough time with us. After all he is trying to be good. Good as a doctor, good as a father & he is a very good husband. What was I thinking?! ‘
And shantha replied with a soft tone “ Am doing just fine sweetheart. Will you listen to what I got to say?”
And shanmugan replied “ Yes honey, the tickets are all fine. Everything is arranged. And do not worry – iniya will not make a fuss that am not joining. I told her that mommy & iniya are going to get a gift for daddy.So it better be a surprise for daddy. She is fine with it. But you will have to manage her for few more days after you land there with some answer. I still haven’t come up with a better one honey. Do not worry.She is a very good girl…”
Shantha interrupted “ Will you please stop with being too nice a husband to a stupid wife? And…” She gently smiled & gave one of her naughty winks after so many many years. She continued “ I actually want you to spare sometime for me- are you free for that?” Shanmugan replied “ I have no work for this weekend honey, tell me. What is it?”
Shantha said “I want you to come with us during this trip”
Shanmugan said “I wish I could. But you see dear, am not that strong a father. And it would be hell for me when I return alone without you both by my side”
Shantha said “Well, why would you return alone when we are both going to be sitting right next to you? This would just be a visit to my mom to tell her that her big girl is doing just fine & knows her responsibilities as a wife and mother & the responsibilities of her Prince charming- the greatest doctor ever. And also remind her that- it was just a small vacation the family could spare on an old ladies house, for my husband has to get back to his work the next week & I should get back to pack him his lunch. We shall also do a little shopping there at my favorite mall. Honey, what are we going to get special from there?”
Shanmugan with all glee said “We are returning with the HAPPIEST FAMILY…This is the best drive I ever had in this limestone hill highway. This shall be the best day in my life, not even our wedding day was this special! I got back my lost possession- my understanding & loving wife. I love you!! And I love you forever!!!”
Inside CAR-2 travelling at 60kmph:
The music system was screaming,
“There's nothing you can know that isn't known.
Nothing you can see that isn't shown.
Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.
It's easy.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.”
Yes! It was the song by-The Beatles
A very deep voice spoke.
“ Hey lara, look! Do u remember that hill? Come on- you dumbo! It’s the limestone hill.Don’t you remember the last time we were here?You won the panting contest for painting this gorgeous during a sunset.Duh?”
Lara with amusement said “Harry!! You remember that? How could I possibly forget that time, you drove me here & it really took so long for the sun that day to set. We even joked if it had forgotten its schedule. How can I forget the long chat we had that day while waiting for the sun to set? We had even forgotten about the test we had next day. I even remember your mark, you scored a 90, while I ended up in an 89. Just 89! “
Harry with a smile said “And looks like some one forgot that- they also won the first place for that painting contest & with all the cash- planned a grand celebration inside her piggie bank. That was indeed very generous of you- little missy!”
Both Lara & harry had a big laugh. And there was silence after that.
Lara broke the silence and spoke “ Harry, do you really have to go outside of Sungai Petani to pursue your degree? Can you not do it here? Do you think the best college can only provide the best knowledge? I remember you telling me- if you have involvement, dedication, resource & good guidance, where you study does not even matter. All that are here. Why not stay here with us? “
Harry was not actually keen in leaving his home and moving away for studies. The only hope with which he was ready to leave was Lara. Lara is a very close family friend. Lara’s dad & Harry’s dad were thick friends. So were lara & harry. From their childhood they were both together, their first day of school, their first day at piano class. They were all the time together. Both the family- moved very close & they loved each other so much. One day, lara’s parents left her at harry’s place and left for a wedding for it may take a day or two to return. And Lara’s dad said on a funny note “ Do take real good care of my sweetie. And do not let go off her, until we return.” The next day, Lara had her exams so she couldn’t join them. She stayed at Harry’s house that day & the two had prepared so well for the test. But the next day when Lara returned home – she had to hear the worst news. Her parents had died in a tragic accident. Lara felt that pain- the pain in her heart that was like squeezing with thousands of thorny strings. More than Lara, Harry felt it very painful- when he saw his best of best buddy shed tears. Neither was harry old enough to console her, nor did he know how to. So, he stood lost & with tears. Harry’s family was very considerate towards lara that they decided to bring her up.Lara & Harry had a very special bond. And most of all harry’s parents loved lara. And today during the drive along the highways- harrys mobile rang. He picked it up and it was harry’s father in the other end. He said “Harry, how are u? Am calling from Canada now & I shall return home by next month. Are you on your way to the airport now? Well, I just want to remind you one thing before you head to some place with many opportunities & girls around. This could sound too absurd to you right now. But answer me- can u consider Lara as your life partner? This may be too early to ask, but your mom was worried you find somegirl at your college & return home with her. She feels that Lara is the best for our family too. She understands all of us very well. And do not tell me Lara may have something else in her mind. That sweet girl had been in love with you all these years & after you both left home- your mom had found Lara’s diray where she had written all about her love for you. She is too timid to tell it out. So son, remember there is the best girl waiting for you here. I hope you give me a positive answer.”
Harry was so excited for he had the same feeling about her & was only afraid if she may not like it. Harry responded “ What question is that dad?? Definitely, Yes!! And Dad, let me hang up now – I got some talking to do before we reach the airport. Take care dad! And thank you & thanks to Mom”
Harry stopped the car and asked Lara to get down & walk to the side of the road with him. He then picked up one of the smallest flower- the wild yellow little flower from the side of the road & spoke ”Lara! Will you marry me?” Lara- gave harry a big hug & said” Well, why would I say no? Come on now handsome, you got a flight to catch. Let’s drive” They got into the car & Harry with a big smile drove the car to the airport. At this moment, Lara had her heart filled with joy & happiness – and most of all a feeling of security.
INSIDE CAR3:
Inside this car, there was the Warden driving his young student to airport- for the boy to have a vacation with his family.This little boy was Rocky Parker, he was put in a boarding school. Rocky was a very notorious & smart boy. But most of the time would on purpose get into trouble & he enjoys the attention he gets being that way. One cannot under estimate him as a dull headed-notorious one,but an A+ scoring naughty little boy. Every time there was a PTA meeting, all the teachers would stand in a queue to complain to the Parkers. This mostly worried Rocky’s mother a lot. She once even broke into tears for, rocky being a sweet & smart boy- yet always gets the most complains & has a bad impression at school. Rocky remember the last time his mom visited here & during the drive at near this limestone hill, she told him that- by the next vacation- Rocky should have changed into a nice - disciplined, adorable boy. If he has changed into one- she promised that she shall make rocky study there with them and he shall not return to this school where he stays in a hostel, which is almost like a prison-cell. Rocky simply had to prove himself as a good boy.Well, he is a good boy. But only was pretending to be a naughty one- for it got him all attention & made him famous among his inmates. Rocky wanted to be a good son. He just was too playful. This day, Rocky decided to be a nice boy & make his parents proud of what he is going to be. He knew that he had all potential. He was always in top 2 in his class. Rocky has no problem with anything- studies, sports, creative activities, making friends, and ofcourse also being naughty. Ricky thought “If I can be good at all these- I can also be good at being a good obedient boy. And if that is the only thing worrying my sweet mom, I shall change that too. I shall be a good boy from now on & make her really happy. He made this decision & then- when he looked out through the window. Oops… the limestone hill wasn’t there. Not that some one removed it from that place. Rocky looked around and saw the board that read ” The Penang International Airport” ,yes it is the Kuala Lumpur International Airport , they have reached the airport. Rocky got down from the car & followed his warden inside the airport & then to the waiting room. There Rocky spotted this cute little princess playing “Itzy bitzy spider…”. The little girls father & mother seemed busy talking to another young couple. Rocky heard the young man tell the father “ Sir, ofcourse we loved your lectures. And it’s that & your sincerity-which has motivated me to find cure for more disease. And am leaving to seek my higher studies.This is Lara- and we are going to be wedded real soon,sir.”
And then rocky heard the mother say “Lara, this profession our men are into is not an easy one. It needs dedication. And most of all our sacrifice, co-operation&understanding. I hope you do not commit the mistakes that I did. But now as I told you, I have realized my mistakes. I have made the correct move- to rectify it. I wish you & Harry have a great life. We shall meet when we return back.” Then little went towards the little princess- Iniya & started to chat with her. Iniya while playing told Rocky all about their plan, the change in plan & that her father is joining them.Then Rocky interrupted saying “ Don’t you get it. They were both planning to get divorced & now they have decided to live together.” Iniya then questioned “ What is divorce, what does it mean, Rocky?” Rocky said” Na…You don’t need to know the meaning.Your life & your family’s future took a wild turn during the drive you said. You are one lucky idiot.Oops, am a good boy now. Sorry! Let me put it this way— You are a very lucky angel. Atleast my parents dint have any such thought. I shall never be a bad boy again. The best I can give for such lovely parents is being a nice boy.You have fun Iniya, I shall go ring my mom before we take off.Chao!”
And so- the limestone hill did have that special smile for today- it had seen three wonderful people & it had stood there tall & proud to remind them about something- that they forgot offlate. About love, responsibility & pay back.
(9) Katie's Story
Blogger: Katie
Blog: http://katiespoetrycorner.blogspot.com
I started to write a different story about my life in the Anaconda Pintler mountain range when I realized I needed to share a deeper story. This is a fraction of a facet of that story.
I remember my awakening so many years ago. There was always this niggling in the back of my mind. I also knew that despite appearances and what my biological parents might say; I was not born into the family that I belonged to. Yet, I chose this physical family . I chose parents that turned out to be better teachers than parents. I was a student and member of a dysfunctional family. I believed that the experience would not only broaden my range of understanding but add depth to my being. What the choice did was make me appear more "normal" to the world . Yet I never totally fit in.
Once upon a time , just yesterday, maybe tomorrow, there was a greater Universe. I say greater not because we had more power and vast knowledge ( although we did and do ) but because of the endless amount of love we carried within. This may sound a bit confusing but you are a fragment of the people we were. So I write this knowing that it sounds odd. You are a possibility in the moment of now. Part of my probable past. You carry the muted vibrations of light within. There were stories written about us back in the 70's and 80's... even earlier actually. Kernels of truths in various movies. I'm not going to go on about the books or other avenues... simply to say that there is a war going on yet, between light and shadow .
One of the most basic facts about being me is this: I can feel the vibrations even more while I am embracing emotional moments of love and light. Not necessarily sex mind you, but love. I experience the flow of energy within created by love and light. It is easy to get lost in this world; lost in material ownership. Lost playing the game of keeping up with the Jones'. Even lost exploring all the wonders; the natural and man made wonders in the world.The vital truth is that none of this truly matters. What is important is the energy and knowledge that is within. The energy that flows with love and light casts a glow on an enlightened person. The people before showed glimpses of the light within through their history; through their storytelling. This is not a new story , this story of light and darkness, but a continuous one. Time is locked in , here on Earth.
When I travel with love and light my energy dances. I have noticed that those who are cloaked in shadows take a quick dislike to me. Then there are those individual people whose first reaction is to bristle as their instinct and senses warn them of something different . Not bad necessarily, simply different. Finally, there are others whom upon meeting me, simply sigh, smile and say , "Finally, here you are. I've been waiting." Not because I'm some semi-god.. but because like them, I carry the vibration within. Together our energy melds and grows stronger. When we travel our light may simply be a flicker or it may be a flame depending on that particular moment of energy. There are many people such as myself. Some of us are born into the human race whiles other arrive at various moments.
It important for us to cultivate our personal beings. To stay in touch with our feeling centers; to connect our spiritual and emotional consciousness. We are messengers. We are here to help the evolution of Mother Earth ( although that is not necessarily a label we use in our system ). Light represents knowledge, freedom... the choice to be one's true authentic self. Darkness and Shadows are at the opposite side of the same coin... lack of knowledge, controlled... puppets dancing to the tune of a Master Puppeteer. When we seek to know more, be more; we gather light within. We grow with this light and love nourishes our souls. We connect to all that is ; was ; all that will be.
So my message is simply this:
Listen to yourselves. Embrace the light and love in you. Understand that everyone has the right to create and dictate their own reality. Live through your own guidance; your own daring instincts.Be brave. Make your own decisions on what is real and important. Become responsible for yourselves. Trust synchronicity . When you are open to possibilities; doors will open. Nothing is truly as it seems. Yet, everything is connected. All the answers that you seek... are within.
There will be those who come to mislead you. When one pays attention and looks out, what is noticeable is the way Society is distracted easily by fame and fortune. By a new Man of Religion. A new diet. By what is said to be the truth from those one might trust. People in Authority. This does not mean that everyone is lying to you. Simply that they are themselves being misled. The "dark" side wants you to look to the outside for guidance and answers. They will distract you.
So look.. look deeper within and discover the truth of your reality.
We are all connected. We, as in everything that exists now and existed before. Love and light has been a constant in my evolution. We have the right to free will; to make our own personal choices.
Years ago..... just yesterday... I chose light.
--
The gift of one's self shared ~ is the best possible gift of all.
Blog: http://katiespoetrycorner.blogspot.com
I started to write a different story about my life in the Anaconda Pintler mountain range when I realized I needed to share a deeper story. This is a fraction of a facet of that story.
I remember my awakening so many years ago. There was always this niggling in the back of my mind. I also knew that despite appearances and what my biological parents might say; I was not born into the family that I belonged to. Yet, I chose this physical family . I chose parents that turned out to be better teachers than parents. I was a student and member of a dysfunctional family. I believed that the experience would not only broaden my range of understanding but add depth to my being. What the choice did was make me appear more "normal" to the world . Yet I never totally fit in.
Once upon a time , just yesterday, maybe tomorrow, there was a greater Universe. I say greater not because we had more power and vast knowledge ( although we did and do ) but because of the endless amount of love we carried within. This may sound a bit confusing but you are a fragment of the people we were. So I write this knowing that it sounds odd. You are a possibility in the moment of now. Part of my probable past. You carry the muted vibrations of light within. There were stories written about us back in the 70's and 80's... even earlier actually. Kernels of truths in various movies. I'm not going to go on about the books or other avenues... simply to say that there is a war going on yet, between light and shadow .
One of the most basic facts about being me is this: I can feel the vibrations even more while I am embracing emotional moments of love and light. Not necessarily sex mind you, but love. I experience the flow of energy within created by love and light. It is easy to get lost in this world; lost in material ownership. Lost playing the game of keeping up with the Jones'. Even lost exploring all the wonders; the natural and man made wonders in the world.The vital truth is that none of this truly matters. What is important is the energy and knowledge that is within. The energy that flows with love and light casts a glow on an enlightened person. The people before showed glimpses of the light within through their history; through their storytelling. This is not a new story , this story of light and darkness, but a continuous one. Time is locked in , here on Earth.
When I travel with love and light my energy dances. I have noticed that those who are cloaked in shadows take a quick dislike to me. Then there are those individual people whose first reaction is to bristle as their instinct and senses warn them of something different . Not bad necessarily, simply different. Finally, there are others whom upon meeting me, simply sigh, smile and say , "Finally, here you are. I've been waiting." Not because I'm some semi-god.. but because like them, I carry the vibration within. Together our energy melds and grows stronger. When we travel our light may simply be a flicker or it may be a flame depending on that particular moment of energy. There are many people such as myself. Some of us are born into the human race whiles other arrive at various moments.
It important for us to cultivate our personal beings. To stay in touch with our feeling centers; to connect our spiritual and emotional consciousness. We are messengers. We are here to help the evolution of Mother Earth ( although that is not necessarily a label we use in our system ). Light represents knowledge, freedom... the choice to be one's true authentic self. Darkness and Shadows are at the opposite side of the same coin... lack of knowledge, controlled... puppets dancing to the tune of a Master Puppeteer. When we seek to know more, be more; we gather light within. We grow with this light and love nourishes our souls. We connect to all that is ; was ; all that will be.
So my message is simply this:
Listen to yourselves. Embrace the light and love in you. Understand that everyone has the right to create and dictate their own reality. Live through your own guidance; your own daring instincts.Be brave. Make your own decisions on what is real and important. Become responsible for yourselves. Trust synchronicity . When you are open to possibilities; doors will open. Nothing is truly as it seems. Yet, everything is connected. All the answers that you seek... are within.
There will be those who come to mislead you. When one pays attention and looks out, what is noticeable is the way Society is distracted easily by fame and fortune. By a new Man of Religion. A new diet. By what is said to be the truth from those one might trust. People in Authority. This does not mean that everyone is lying to you. Simply that they are themselves being misled. The "dark" side wants you to look to the outside for guidance and answers. They will distract you.
So look.. look deeper within and discover the truth of your reality.
We are all connected. We, as in everything that exists now and existed before. Love and light has been a constant in my evolution. We have the right to free will; to make our own personal choices.
Years ago..... just yesterday... I chose light.
--
The gift of one's self shared ~ is the best possible gift of all.
(8) Life's many Flavours
Blogger: Starry Nights
Blog: http://stargazer-lalitha.blogspot.com
It is a warm summer evening, she sits alone at a Star-Bucks cafe.Through the window she can see couples holding hands walking along the beach, children making sand castles,and surfers riding the waves.It is a beautiful evening, calm and serene but she feels sad and lonely.
She takes a sip of her Caramel Frappucchino,first she tastes the fresh cream then the sweetnes of the caramel and the bitter taste of the coffee.The coffee had to be stirred so the wonderful taste would evolve.So was her life, bland ,sweet and bitter all mixed in one.Today all she can feel is the bitterness inside her.
Her thoughts take her back to the day she met Rajesh.She was but a teenager full of fun and excitement.He was the shy handsome teen that everyone was after.They fell in love and a few years later were married and left India to come to the united States.She was sad to leave her parents and all the people she loved but she had to.Her life was with Rajesh .They started from humble beginnnings and made it, had everything they wished for, but yet something was missing,why would he hurt her if he really loved her.
It was a beautiful evening and they had driven down the road to a local Diner to get some food.Rajesh went in and she stayed in the car.It was a Friday evening and everyone in the neighborhood was here,while she was waiting she looked out of the window and saw the full moon against the shadow of the hills and clouds, it was a beautiful picture, something that had to be captured and shared with her blogger friends.She reaches for his cell phone to take a picture but stumbles on the buttons and all she sees is several messages from a lady who was a family friend.He was having an affair. She was shocked,how long has this been going on,so many questions and no answers.She confronts him when he returns,he admits to it but says he is sorry and it will not happen again.He says that this lady does not mean anything to him,it was a stupid thing to have done.She walks home alone,her mind is swirling she does not know what to do.
It has been two days.today she sits all alone at Star Bucks,wondering what she has to do.She had given this man her life, he was the only man she had known, yet today he feels like a stranger.Should she forgive him and stay or should she leave him."Is it a selfish woman who thinks only of her happiness and leaves or is she looked on as a strong person." Is the person who forgives and stays a weak woman " she ponders over these questions."Does the pain ever go away,can you forget the past and trust this man again?" She has no answers. There are no winners when one leaves.There is pain all around, for yourself,family and children.
She has to go back home to her husband and children.One may consider her a weak woman for doing this but as she drinks her caramel frappucchino she thinks"Life is like this coffee,many flavors in one.you have to taste the bitter to enjoy the sweetness,the sadness to enjoy happiness.
She has to try, may be give it another chance.How can one's life that was so good be marred with one bad choice."Maam, would you like another cup of coffee" "No Thanks" she replies. and hurry's back home.
Blog: http://stargazer-lalitha.blogspot.com
It is a warm summer evening, she sits alone at a Star-Bucks cafe.Through the window she can see couples holding hands walking along the beach, children making sand castles,and surfers riding the waves.It is a beautiful evening, calm and serene but she feels sad and lonely.
She takes a sip of her Caramel Frappucchino,first she tastes the fresh cream then the sweetnes of the caramel and the bitter taste of the coffee.The coffee had to be stirred so the wonderful taste would evolve.So was her life, bland ,sweet and bitter all mixed in one.Today all she can feel is the bitterness inside her.
Her thoughts take her back to the day she met Rajesh.She was but a teenager full of fun and excitement.He was the shy handsome teen that everyone was after.They fell in love and a few years later were married and left India to come to the united States.She was sad to leave her parents and all the people she loved but she had to.Her life was with Rajesh .They started from humble beginnnings and made it, had everything they wished for, but yet something was missing,why would he hurt her if he really loved her.
It was a beautiful evening and they had driven down the road to a local Diner to get some food.Rajesh went in and she stayed in the car.It was a Friday evening and everyone in the neighborhood was here,while she was waiting she looked out of the window and saw the full moon against the shadow of the hills and clouds, it was a beautiful picture, something that had to be captured and shared with her blogger friends.She reaches for his cell phone to take a picture but stumbles on the buttons and all she sees is several messages from a lady who was a family friend.He was having an affair. She was shocked,how long has this been going on,so many questions and no answers.She confronts him when he returns,he admits to it but says he is sorry and it will not happen again.He says that this lady does not mean anything to him,it was a stupid thing to have done.She walks home alone,her mind is swirling she does not know what to do.
It has been two days.today she sits all alone at Star Bucks,wondering what she has to do.She had given this man her life, he was the only man she had known, yet today he feels like a stranger.Should she forgive him and stay or should she leave him."Is it a selfish woman who thinks only of her happiness and leaves or is she looked on as a strong person." Is the person who forgives and stays a weak woman " she ponders over these questions."Does the pain ever go away,can you forget the past and trust this man again?" She has no answers. There are no winners when one leaves.There is pain all around, for yourself,family and children.
She has to go back home to her husband and children.One may consider her a weak woman for doing this but as she drinks her caramel frappucchino she thinks"Life is like this coffee,many flavors in one.you have to taste the bitter to enjoy the sweetness,the sadness to enjoy happiness.
She has to try, may be give it another chance.How can one's life that was so good be marred with one bad choice."Maam, would you like another cup of coffee" "No Thanks" she replies. and hurry's back home.
(7) Limau
Blogger: Sojourner
Blog: http://sojournerspace.blogspot.com
A lightning flashed in the evening sky. A low rumbling thunder followed it from the clouds, a few seconds later. A small preview of the coming winter monsoon had just ended. The street lights had come on and the rain washed road formed a liquid canvas. The air smelled of the Earth even in this semi urban setting. It shall rain. It will fail all forecasts and pour down merrily on the Earth in a discontinuous chain of elemental symphony, for weeks. It will cleanse and feed and rule - mother Earth will wash her children. Thus he observed, as his breathing slowed down.
A small bulb ruled a few cubic feet of the space outside the café’s walls. It was starting to attract some swarming termites. He sat frozen in the shadow cast by the umbrella which covered the table. Only his out stretched hand was clearly visible. There was not much of a hint of the rest of his person. His eyes in the shadow were looking roughly at the hand and the orange it bore, intently, silently; with not a muscle moving. No one else was there to note the rhythm of his eyelids, or the lack of rhythm, as he steadily gazed. This place will open in the early morning again, in several hours. The lonely guard sat several feet away, staring into the heavens, leaning on his back in his chair, the chair placed against the guard shed. He looks hardly 20 yrs old. He was not moving either. The two bodies had become one with everything else on that street, part of the elements and connected through the elements - through the air, the earth and the water left by the drizzle and the few rays of light reflecting off everything and reaching everything else, carrying ethereal wordless messages in the late night blue gray and the street light yellow; for all, to be absorbed.
Rising up and gently floating away from the chair where I sat, I saw myself sitting there with the Orange in one hand under the umbrella. Looking at myself, I glided backwards and farther away. The world became bigger and bigger. The whole coffee house expanded into the view slowly. At far enough, from the middle of the road, the scene got itself a few tiny unobtrusive spots of dwarf street lights.
From where I was on the road, I saw myself sitting there… there is the fruit too. It is amazing how much I could see when I am not bound by my shell. Looking deeper, I see that I am looking at the fruit. I can see the tiny irregularities on the fruit’s outer layer. Some places yellow and some green... mostly orange. It has a soft and deep skin. Making my way through the acrid skin, I ended up in thin layer of white fiber which seems to have formed a complicated network which covers a thin transparent container that holds numerous tiny packets of sweetness. At the depths of these bags of nectar, there will be a few seeds of life. After reaching the innermost part, as if traveling back in time, but still moving forward, I re-encounter the seeds, then the countless rows of globules, the soft white fiber network and finally out through the protective skin and emerge on the other side... and what do I see? I saw a world much different from the side through which I entered the orange. Here is a car turning smoothly at the far end of the curve. It did not slow down to take the turn for it was already moving along quite slowly. It gently swept a wide arc at the turn and the head light traced a curve that cut across the orange and went back into the street to glare up the rain water.
Hovering in the middle of the road, I turned to look at the car. Ignoring the excess rays of light, I could sense the person driving the car: the eye must be carelessly focused and looking straight at me and through me… looking farther away. I saw myself sitting on one side of the road, devoted to the orange. Sitting there, I did not seem to mind the sound of the car at the end of the street. The car is getting closer; I can feel the eyes of the driver getting more intense… or may be it is the passenger?
….
Looking at the dash board, I saw that we were not driving fast. My spectacles got smeared with the rain water while I was waiting to be picked up. With every little movement of the car and even my breathing, a cold, fuzzed, molten image of the meters was doodled as glowing little arrows and circles and letters, all of red, all skewed and incomprehensible; like paintings taking shape. Looking up, I saw that the street was lined with short buildings and even shorter street lamp posts. The repetitive gray and yellow pattern of the night road was broken by the shop and its tiny lamp swarming with termites. The insects had risen from the ground to celebrate the coming rains. Could they not wait till it rained more? Don't they know to wait longer and wait for the torrential rains to set in more fully? Who is that man, sitting there like a statue? And the guard seems to be mesmerized by the sky.
The street looked deserted and there in the middle of the completely empty road, a small hazy thin white shape stretched and we were nearing it. Is it a reflection on the smudged and smeared glass? I took it off. I turned to the side, as we neared the cafe - A cold spot swept through me as the car neared the statue man who was holding an... an Orange in his hand! I felt his eyes. Not on me, for I could not see him, but I felt his look in my eyes, the very depths of it. I involuntarily shuddered and the hair on the back of my neck pricked. I turned quickly to look to the front and the white figure was now materializing itself. I squinted and rubbed my eyes: It was a set of markings on the road. I rubbed my arms and I felt warmed again as soon as we went past the café and moved further down the street. I could not break the sculpted image of that person… all that eerie gray and then the strikingly illuminated Orange! I felt cold again.
…
Hovering at the white mark in the middle of the road, I saw that, the car fell in the line of sight of my eyes, sitting there frozen in the seat. The fruit in the hand was too low and far to eclipse the car: I was boring my eyes into the windshield at the side, past the glare of the headlight. As the car neared the place where I sat, it had to pass through the vacant plot of land by the side of the café. That allowed a distant lightning to slant through and illuminate the long wet hair and spectacles of the passenger. The glare from the lightning hid the eye of the passenger. I was staring relentlessly. The lightning died and the car was passing the vacant plot and got illuminated by one of the street lights. My unmoving eyes met the eyes of the passenger. I noted my frozen smile in the relative darkness where I sat, as she shuddered. I caught a glimpse of her rubbing her neck and the eyes and warm her arms as she passed through me, looking straight at the road. She will have no protection after this place, this road right at the end of the suburbs. A few moments passed for the Proton Savvy’s tail lights to disappear at the other end of the street. Laughing at myself who was sitting across at the cafe, I evaporated from the middle of the road.
I stood up from the chair, body and mind, and walked towards the middle of the road to see how much it had rained. The white mark was clean by now, as pristine as it can be after a year. The rains have come early this winter. I remember the day when they marked this, about a year ago, the day when I discovered this café, the day when I had accidentally taken an extra orange from an old fruit vendor while I was bargaining the price with him. He was making good business that day. I sat here and had wondered what to do about the unintentional shop lifting, as the road workers were marking the line on the road. It was already late in the evening when I made up my mind and ran to find him again by the side of the road a little further away. He was not there. The next day, I went to him. I explained to him that I had taken it by accident and wanted to return the fruit to him and that I did not want him by any chance to think that I stole it. I tried to hand him the fruit and that is when I realized something: It was in no condition for someone to buy it again. The fruit was all squashed. I had kept it in my rain coat and traveled in a bus. I could not help but smile. He smiled at me and asked me how old I was. I told that I am 23. No. I must have said 22. It was last year. He said, “Next time, just eat the Orange and pay me the Ringgits its worth when you come here again… …By the way, nice to meet you.” he said with a smile, “Would you like to buy some Orange?”
May be I will walk down there to his little shop now and see if he is still selling any Limau for the day... or may be I will buy Apples this time… they have a different internal structure.
I waved my hand in the direction of the guard.
“Selamat malam”, he waved back at me.
“Jumpa lagi!”, I started walking.
I walked past the vacant plot by the side of the café. I almost dropped the orange in my hand as the cold wind hit my skin. I shuddered and pulled my black coat tight. I am sure, by now, the kid in the car would have raised her wind shield. She won’t miss seeing anything because the scenic valley will be too dark by now. Light goes out early on this side of the mountain.
PS: I chose the “Car’s Dashboard Display” image initially… but guess now more of the images can fit into the story.
Blog: http://sojournerspace.blogspot.com
A lightning flashed in the evening sky. A low rumbling thunder followed it from the clouds, a few seconds later. A small preview of the coming winter monsoon had just ended. The street lights had come on and the rain washed road formed a liquid canvas. The air smelled of the Earth even in this semi urban setting. It shall rain. It will fail all forecasts and pour down merrily on the Earth in a discontinuous chain of elemental symphony, for weeks. It will cleanse and feed and rule - mother Earth will wash her children. Thus he observed, as his breathing slowed down.
A small bulb ruled a few cubic feet of the space outside the café’s walls. It was starting to attract some swarming termites. He sat frozen in the shadow cast by the umbrella which covered the table. Only his out stretched hand was clearly visible. There was not much of a hint of the rest of his person. His eyes in the shadow were looking roughly at the hand and the orange it bore, intently, silently; with not a muscle moving. No one else was there to note the rhythm of his eyelids, or the lack of rhythm, as he steadily gazed. This place will open in the early morning again, in several hours. The lonely guard sat several feet away, staring into the heavens, leaning on his back in his chair, the chair placed against the guard shed. He looks hardly 20 yrs old. He was not moving either. The two bodies had become one with everything else on that street, part of the elements and connected through the elements - through the air, the earth and the water left by the drizzle and the few rays of light reflecting off everything and reaching everything else, carrying ethereal wordless messages in the late night blue gray and the street light yellow; for all, to be absorbed.
Rising up and gently floating away from the chair where I sat, I saw myself sitting there with the Orange in one hand under the umbrella. Looking at myself, I glided backwards and farther away. The world became bigger and bigger. The whole coffee house expanded into the view slowly. At far enough, from the middle of the road, the scene got itself a few tiny unobtrusive spots of dwarf street lights.
From where I was on the road, I saw myself sitting there… there is the fruit too. It is amazing how much I could see when I am not bound by my shell. Looking deeper, I see that I am looking at the fruit. I can see the tiny irregularities on the fruit’s outer layer. Some places yellow and some green... mostly orange. It has a soft and deep skin. Making my way through the acrid skin, I ended up in thin layer of white fiber which seems to have formed a complicated network which covers a thin transparent container that holds numerous tiny packets of sweetness. At the depths of these bags of nectar, there will be a few seeds of life. After reaching the innermost part, as if traveling back in time, but still moving forward, I re-encounter the seeds, then the countless rows of globules, the soft white fiber network and finally out through the protective skin and emerge on the other side... and what do I see? I saw a world much different from the side through which I entered the orange. Here is a car turning smoothly at the far end of the curve. It did not slow down to take the turn for it was already moving along quite slowly. It gently swept a wide arc at the turn and the head light traced a curve that cut across the orange and went back into the street to glare up the rain water.
Hovering in the middle of the road, I turned to look at the car. Ignoring the excess rays of light, I could sense the person driving the car: the eye must be carelessly focused and looking straight at me and through me… looking farther away. I saw myself sitting on one side of the road, devoted to the orange. Sitting there, I did not seem to mind the sound of the car at the end of the street. The car is getting closer; I can feel the eyes of the driver getting more intense… or may be it is the passenger?
….
Looking at the dash board, I saw that we were not driving fast. My spectacles got smeared with the rain water while I was waiting to be picked up. With every little movement of the car and even my breathing, a cold, fuzzed, molten image of the meters was doodled as glowing little arrows and circles and letters, all of red, all skewed and incomprehensible; like paintings taking shape. Looking up, I saw that the street was lined with short buildings and even shorter street lamp posts. The repetitive gray and yellow pattern of the night road was broken by the shop and its tiny lamp swarming with termites. The insects had risen from the ground to celebrate the coming rains. Could they not wait till it rained more? Don't they know to wait longer and wait for the torrential rains to set in more fully? Who is that man, sitting there like a statue? And the guard seems to be mesmerized by the sky.
The street looked deserted and there in the middle of the completely empty road, a small hazy thin white shape stretched and we were nearing it. Is it a reflection on the smudged and smeared glass? I took it off. I turned to the side, as we neared the cafe - A cold spot swept through me as the car neared the statue man who was holding an... an Orange in his hand! I felt his eyes. Not on me, for I could not see him, but I felt his look in my eyes, the very depths of it. I involuntarily shuddered and the hair on the back of my neck pricked. I turned quickly to look to the front and the white figure was now materializing itself. I squinted and rubbed my eyes: It was a set of markings on the road. I rubbed my arms and I felt warmed again as soon as we went past the café and moved further down the street. I could not break the sculpted image of that person… all that eerie gray and then the strikingly illuminated Orange! I felt cold again.
…
Hovering at the white mark in the middle of the road, I saw that, the car fell in the line of sight of my eyes, sitting there frozen in the seat. The fruit in the hand was too low and far to eclipse the car: I was boring my eyes into the windshield at the side, past the glare of the headlight. As the car neared the place where I sat, it had to pass through the vacant plot of land by the side of the café. That allowed a distant lightning to slant through and illuminate the long wet hair and spectacles of the passenger. The glare from the lightning hid the eye of the passenger. I was staring relentlessly. The lightning died and the car was passing the vacant plot and got illuminated by one of the street lights. My unmoving eyes met the eyes of the passenger. I noted my frozen smile in the relative darkness where I sat, as she shuddered. I caught a glimpse of her rubbing her neck and the eyes and warm her arms as she passed through me, looking straight at the road. She will have no protection after this place, this road right at the end of the suburbs. A few moments passed for the Proton Savvy’s tail lights to disappear at the other end of the street. Laughing at myself who was sitting across at the cafe, I evaporated from the middle of the road.
I stood up from the chair, body and mind, and walked towards the middle of the road to see how much it had rained. The white mark was clean by now, as pristine as it can be after a year. The rains have come early this winter. I remember the day when they marked this, about a year ago, the day when I discovered this café, the day when I had accidentally taken an extra orange from an old fruit vendor while I was bargaining the price with him. He was making good business that day. I sat here and had wondered what to do about the unintentional shop lifting, as the road workers were marking the line on the road. It was already late in the evening when I made up my mind and ran to find him again by the side of the road a little further away. He was not there. The next day, I went to him. I explained to him that I had taken it by accident and wanted to return the fruit to him and that I did not want him by any chance to think that I stole it. I tried to hand him the fruit and that is when I realized something: It was in no condition for someone to buy it again. The fruit was all squashed. I had kept it in my rain coat and traveled in a bus. I could not help but smile. He smiled at me and asked me how old I was. I told that I am 23. No. I must have said 22. It was last year. He said, “Next time, just eat the Orange and pay me the Ringgits its worth when you come here again… …By the way, nice to meet you.” he said with a smile, “Would you like to buy some Orange?”
May be I will walk down there to his little shop now and see if he is still selling any Limau for the day... or may be I will buy Apples this time… they have a different internal structure.
I waved my hand in the direction of the guard.
“Selamat malam”, he waved back at me.
“Jumpa lagi!”, I started walking.
I walked past the vacant plot by the side of the café. I almost dropped the orange in my hand as the cold wind hit my skin. I shuddered and pulled my black coat tight. I am sure, by now, the kid in the car would have raised her wind shield. She won’t miss seeing anything because the scenic valley will be too dark by now. Light goes out early on this side of the mountain.
PS: I chose the “Car’s Dashboard Display” image initially… but guess now more of the images can fit into the story.
(6) Limestone Forest
Blogger: Jeevan
Blog: http://jeevansworld.blogspot.com
An imaginary story
One early day the News in the paper reads, that UN has awarded Limestone forest in Malaysia as the most beautiful natural with precious livings. This was proved by a research through the universal collage students as a project. The research brings the secret of the forest how more precious plants and species which grown in different environment comes here. The result here is the story of the limestone forest, which faces a death door in his life, and redeem to this position and above.
Story
There was a hunter name limso, who lives near a forest in a small town; his occupation is to cuts trees from the forest and sale it in the local market. He has a child whom he loves more and living for his happiness. Limso usually cut little kg of woods from trees as much he can carry, with this he and his child was living happily. In that time limso faced a situation to meet a rich leader and his group which comes from foreign land demanded more woods for his shipbuilding factory, but actual they comes in the intention of smuggling the precious trees & woods from the forest. The unknown limso said yes to them and starts to cut more trees. It was going for some days; when the group urge him more woods he increased the amount for woods he cut, but when he knows that they are ready to give more money, he stop cutting trees for them and realize the preciousness of the trees he cut in the forest and started to cut more trees by involving the local people and sale it on his own and becoming a richest hunter in the town. As usual his wood business changed as an ambition and starts cutting more trees on the infatuation on money and destroyed much hectares of the forest in few years.
Limso never think about what will happen if forest losses its green trees? Where will the wild animals will go for hide place? But nature wont be like it if we bring much changes on it! Limso’s actions starts to turns against on the people of the town. In his ambition, the animals and birds in forest faces an inability living situation. Many rare living birds lost its species. In a worst situation of facing heavy drought of low rain and dangerous animals from forest entering inside the town in search of food and place to hide, and attacking the people have gradually increases day by day. Some of heartbroken incidents like children and the people whom live alone have loosing their life for the hungry animals. Without knowing what and how to control the situation, the people complain to limbo. But he never stand for them and he dint take it much series and carelessly continues his destruction of forest trees, as he was living in a safe, fort like structure house and no need to face the attack.
But one days in the cold season, unexpectedly his only child was lost, he don’t know what to do and the rumors which comes to his ears are some animals may pulled him inside the forest as their food. He really felt in a fear and many images runs in his mind like forest dogs tasting her flesh, under the elephant’s leg…. Now the limso feel’s ashamed before the people, when he refused to listen to the peoples complain, but now he faces the same through his lovely child. But with the hope and the fearing imagination in mind, he searched by four sides of the forest with his group for day and nights in the cold forest, and found his child in the deep forest where he went, when losing the way. From this he learns a lesson to feel others suffer as ours, and his realization, gives a new life to his forest, which was now a one of the best natural resource of this world. He stops cutting tress for money and he like to spent all his saving to develop the forest, so with the help of his own people he plant new trees, brought the rivers inside the forest, built walls to protect the people above all he build a ship with the remaining woods, where he carries miles to reach the sea and thought to bring back the precious trees to the forest he cuts before. So he travels to many forest globally and brings plants, seeds, birds and animals from various countries, which lives in different environments. By doing this he see the forest developing very fast in little years, and this brings the happiness again on his peoples. In the continue of times with adorning the name of the limso they called it Limestone forest.
Blog: http://jeevansworld.blogspot.com
An imaginary story
One early day the News in the paper reads, that UN has awarded Limestone forest in Malaysia as the most beautiful natural with precious livings. This was proved by a research through the universal collage students as a project. The research brings the secret of the forest how more precious plants and species which grown in different environment comes here. The result here is the story of the limestone forest, which faces a death door in his life, and redeem to this position and above.
Story
There was a hunter name limso, who lives near a forest in a small town; his occupation is to cuts trees from the forest and sale it in the local market. He has a child whom he loves more and living for his happiness. Limso usually cut little kg of woods from trees as much he can carry, with this he and his child was living happily. In that time limso faced a situation to meet a rich leader and his group which comes from foreign land demanded more woods for his shipbuilding factory, but actual they comes in the intention of smuggling the precious trees & woods from the forest. The unknown limso said yes to them and starts to cut more trees. It was going for some days; when the group urge him more woods he increased the amount for woods he cut, but when he knows that they are ready to give more money, he stop cutting trees for them and realize the preciousness of the trees he cut in the forest and started to cut more trees by involving the local people and sale it on his own and becoming a richest hunter in the town. As usual his wood business changed as an ambition and starts cutting more trees on the infatuation on money and destroyed much hectares of the forest in few years.
Limso never think about what will happen if forest losses its green trees? Where will the wild animals will go for hide place? But nature wont be like it if we bring much changes on it! Limso’s actions starts to turns against on the people of the town. In his ambition, the animals and birds in forest faces an inability living situation. Many rare living birds lost its species. In a worst situation of facing heavy drought of low rain and dangerous animals from forest entering inside the town in search of food and place to hide, and attacking the people have gradually increases day by day. Some of heartbroken incidents like children and the people whom live alone have loosing their life for the hungry animals. Without knowing what and how to control the situation, the people complain to limbo. But he never stand for them and he dint take it much series and carelessly continues his destruction of forest trees, as he was living in a safe, fort like structure house and no need to face the attack.
But one days in the cold season, unexpectedly his only child was lost, he don’t know what to do and the rumors which comes to his ears are some animals may pulled him inside the forest as their food. He really felt in a fear and many images runs in his mind like forest dogs tasting her flesh, under the elephant’s leg…. Now the limso feel’s ashamed before the people, when he refused to listen to the peoples complain, but now he faces the same through his lovely child. But with the hope and the fearing imagination in mind, he searched by four sides of the forest with his group for day and nights in the cold forest, and found his child in the deep forest where he went, when losing the way. From this he learns a lesson to feel others suffer as ours, and his realization, gives a new life to his forest, which was now a one of the best natural resource of this world. He stops cutting tress for money and he like to spent all his saving to develop the forest, so with the help of his own people he plant new trees, brought the rivers inside the forest, built walls to protect the people above all he build a ship with the remaining woods, where he carries miles to reach the sea and thought to bring back the precious trees to the forest he cuts before. So he travels to many forest globally and brings plants, seeds, birds and animals from various countries, which lives in different environments. By doing this he see the forest developing very fast in little years, and this brings the happiness again on his peoples. In the continue of times with adorning the name of the limso they called it Limestone forest.
(5) You Think My Day Is A Breeze?
Blogger: Pauline
Blog: http://GlimpsesIntangible.blogspot.com
People know me as Harry. I do not recall how that became my surname, but it has been for over a thousand years. Some people do not know me at all; they are unable to see me; so to them I do not exist.
I am the air that filters through, over and around your dashboard when you drive along the highway. You regulate the temperature for heat or warmth yet, it is me “Harry” that provides the comfort you experience. I am the gentle flow of warm air from your dashboard display; and I am the cool comfort that allows you respite from the heat of day. You call me air conditioning, yet what is that without me “Harry.” I am the air you breathe, the air you both warm and cool for comfort.
Today I am still, quiet, unnoticed, unthought-of, yet I fill your every inhalation! Sometimes, just for fun I cause a tickle in your throat. You still do not know it is me but I enjoy this foolish game I play of hide and seek.
Here we are it is early morning, the first work day of your week. I wait patiently while you enter the car juggling your Starbucks coffee cup with keys and changing my odorless freshness with your morning coffee beans. It will pass, I tell myself, be patient. Soon only my sweet stillness will remain hovering about the dashboard, filling your personal space with “Harry”, the unseen yet essential element for life.
Like a secret lover I quietly remain invisible longing for you to reach out, pick up your cell phone and call to me. Here I am, just look! See me with your eyes closed. Taste the sweetness of my purity, my newness, my everlasting purpose of sustaining life.
Do you think my day is a breeze?
Often it is months passing before you take notice of me. On several occasions, during what you name a year, I gather with extended family. Oh yes! When the breezes gather, then you know the strength of “Harry.” The power of family bonds is witnessed among the gathering clouds and the leaves that toss from side to side. Sadly some of my family members get a bit carried away while gathering. We can create quite a storm.
Modern man has decided to re-name these events from a computerized list. All winds are generated from “Harry”. With foolish pride your people give false names from a pre-determined list. Oh, I do feel abandoned at these times. Somehow in my best moments I feel amused. You do not see me, ‘Harry” but you make a list of names for the family gatherings of Harry. These you call strong winds or hurricanes.
If you would only take some time to experience me. I am here with you at all times, twenty-four seven, from your first breath until your last.
My, my I have gotten stirred up this morning. It must be that you have decided to enjoy the sunshine, opening all the car windows and the sunroof, has really caused me to be tossed around.
I apologize; my movement has tousled your hair and swept business papers off the passenger seat and now onto the floor.
Didn’t I say today I was still, quiet, unnoticed, unthought-of? Hum, we had better check the dashboard speedometer. Yes it is rather intense. Are we in a hurry to take that last breath?
Surely there is something for me to do that will enable you to sense my presence. Give me a moment.
There it is Limestone Hill, my birthplace. Pull over here. This is the answer to my questioning, here you will learn of my beginning.
You will feel the sweet, light, delectable air that is my home. You will be kissed on each cheek by my gentle touch. You will yearn to remain here upon Limestone Hill. Here you will see the world as it is small and unimportant. You will breath deeply of “Harry.”
The city smog is now off in the distance and it is visible to you. Suddenly you become aware, not of Harry but of something pure, crisp, a yearning to inhale grasps you. With eyes closed, a smile upon your lips, hands placed instinctively in prayer.
You and I are one. This is extraordinary. The sheer breath is exhilarating. Like a four course dinner you are satisfied beyond your need. This is the moment I wished to share with you. Words cannot describe the fullness of joy, the simplicity of life. Harry is still unknown to you by name but you have felt my presence.
Refreshed, renewed, strengthened from within you reluctantly walk back toward the car, pausing only for one last glance at Limestone Hill.
While driving back to the work world of humankind now less hurried, you hear yourself laugh aloud. I will tell them it was a flat tire that made me late today. How could I explain the kiss of the breeze? They would think me insane.
Slowly, you close all the windows, leaving only the sunroof open. The sun shines upon you and gentle “Harry” circulates about your personal space. You are calm, energized within, making promises to yourself that you must return to visit Limestone Hill in the near future. You desire to feel its mystical breeze, its sweetness, its serenity.
I am quiet and calm knowing all too well you will forget the power of Harry’s home for you must remain removed, confused of such simplicities unseen as air and gentle breeze.
I know someday in human year time you will yearn again to breathe deeply the gift from” Harry” once again upon Limestone Hill.
I can wait. I will wait and we can return again to the secret treasure of pure air, the gift of home, the gift of life. Until that day I will be as close to you as you permit. I will be there always. You only need to call and I will answer.
Written by Pauline December 4, 2006
Glimpses Intangible.blogspot.com
Blog: http://GlimpsesIntangible.blogspot.com
People know me as Harry. I do not recall how that became my surname, but it has been for over a thousand years. Some people do not know me at all; they are unable to see me; so to them I do not exist.
I am the air that filters through, over and around your dashboard when you drive along the highway. You regulate the temperature for heat or warmth yet, it is me “Harry” that provides the comfort you experience. I am the gentle flow of warm air from your dashboard display; and I am the cool comfort that allows you respite from the heat of day. You call me air conditioning, yet what is that without me “Harry.” I am the air you breathe, the air you both warm and cool for comfort.
Today I am still, quiet, unnoticed, unthought-of, yet I fill your every inhalation! Sometimes, just for fun I cause a tickle in your throat. You still do not know it is me but I enjoy this foolish game I play of hide and seek.
Here we are it is early morning, the first work day of your week. I wait patiently while you enter the car juggling your Starbucks coffee cup with keys and changing my odorless freshness with your morning coffee beans. It will pass, I tell myself, be patient. Soon only my sweet stillness will remain hovering about the dashboard, filling your personal space with “Harry”, the unseen yet essential element for life.
Like a secret lover I quietly remain invisible longing for you to reach out, pick up your cell phone and call to me. Here I am, just look! See me with your eyes closed. Taste the sweetness of my purity, my newness, my everlasting purpose of sustaining life.
Do you think my day is a breeze?
Often it is months passing before you take notice of me. On several occasions, during what you name a year, I gather with extended family. Oh yes! When the breezes gather, then you know the strength of “Harry.” The power of family bonds is witnessed among the gathering clouds and the leaves that toss from side to side. Sadly some of my family members get a bit carried away while gathering. We can create quite a storm.
Modern man has decided to re-name these events from a computerized list. All winds are generated from “Harry”. With foolish pride your people give false names from a pre-determined list. Oh, I do feel abandoned at these times. Somehow in my best moments I feel amused. You do not see me, ‘Harry” but you make a list of names for the family gatherings of Harry. These you call strong winds or hurricanes.
If you would only take some time to experience me. I am here with you at all times, twenty-four seven, from your first breath until your last.
My, my I have gotten stirred up this morning. It must be that you have decided to enjoy the sunshine, opening all the car windows and the sunroof, has really caused me to be tossed around.
I apologize; my movement has tousled your hair and swept business papers off the passenger seat and now onto the floor.
Didn’t I say today I was still, quiet, unnoticed, unthought-of? Hum, we had better check the dashboard speedometer. Yes it is rather intense. Are we in a hurry to take that last breath?
Surely there is something for me to do that will enable you to sense my presence. Give me a moment.
There it is Limestone Hill, my birthplace. Pull over here. This is the answer to my questioning, here you will learn of my beginning.
You will feel the sweet, light, delectable air that is my home. You will be kissed on each cheek by my gentle touch. You will yearn to remain here upon Limestone Hill. Here you will see the world as it is small and unimportant. You will breath deeply of “Harry.”
The city smog is now off in the distance and it is visible to you. Suddenly you become aware, not of Harry but of something pure, crisp, a yearning to inhale grasps you. With eyes closed, a smile upon your lips, hands placed instinctively in prayer.
You and I are one. This is extraordinary. The sheer breath is exhilarating. Like a four course dinner you are satisfied beyond your need. This is the moment I wished to share with you. Words cannot describe the fullness of joy, the simplicity of life. Harry is still unknown to you by name but you have felt my presence.
Refreshed, renewed, strengthened from within you reluctantly walk back toward the car, pausing only for one last glance at Limestone Hill.
While driving back to the work world of humankind now less hurried, you hear yourself laugh aloud. I will tell them it was a flat tire that made me late today. How could I explain the kiss of the breeze? They would think me insane.
Slowly, you close all the windows, leaving only the sunroof open. The sun shines upon you and gentle “Harry” circulates about your personal space. You are calm, energized within, making promises to yourself that you must return to visit Limestone Hill in the near future. You desire to feel its mystical breeze, its sweetness, its serenity.
I am quiet and calm knowing all too well you will forget the power of Harry’s home for you must remain removed, confused of such simplicities unseen as air and gentle breeze.
I know someday in human year time you will yearn again to breathe deeply the gift from” Harry” once again upon Limestone Hill.
I can wait. I will wait and we can return again to the secret treasure of pure air, the gift of home, the gift of life. Until that day I will be as close to you as you permit. I will be there always. You only need to call and I will answer.
Written by Pauline December 4, 2006
Glimpses Intangible.blogspot.com
(4) Players
Blogger: Rahul
Blog: http://livinghigh.blogspot.com
The key to good flirting is confidence. If you have that, even the corniest of pick up lines will not let you down. And of course, he knew it. He’d been doing this forever. He was a player. Keen and sharp, with a seductive smile on his lips that all the candidates who met him here for coffee would ache to reach over and kiss, but would hold themselves just back. He knew how he did it, even though they didn’t. This was his place. He thought of himself as a decadent Austin Powers and this place as his mojo den.
For all intents and purposes – other than his – the place was a coffee shop.
Amber glow and warm liquids and friendly voices, and he would conduct his interviews here. One by one, day by day, evening by evening, over cups of coffee that ranged from lattes to mochas to the cheaper ‘house specials’ that the barista knew he would ask for. A grin, a wink, a polite “And what will you have? These guys make great coffee”, and they would be hooked.
But of course, it would depend on him, whether he would reel them in or not.
He was finicky. Not in the sense that snooty people are. His detractors and friends always said that he slept with anything that walked. He would smile and agree. He was a player. If he played you right, and you responded to some degree, he would be equally hooked. After the three hours or so it took to satiate him, he would ask you ever so politely to leave his apartment, just a block away from the amber coloured coffee shop. And his chemistry was such that, you would probably call or sms him a couple of days later, asking for a rematch, even though you knew he was never the kind who repeated his tricks.
So he would make it a point to reach the coffee shop fifteen minutes before the appointed time, and settle into his chair, the table which overlooked the road outside, and grin at the barista for his usual – a cheaper ‘special’ to tide him over till his trick arrived. Sometimes, he would run his eyes over the rest of people in the store, and if he saw a specimen that turned him on, he would stare fixedly, till the object of his gaze would look up, and he would smile. Just like that. Sometimes it helped to fix another date for the next day. Sometimes, it would result in nothing at all. But that was ok. He was familiar with the rules of the game.
Rule One was that nobody wins all the time. There’s no such thing as a perfect run, and he was game for that. He was game for the thrill of wondering whether he would win or not. And if he lost, he never took it to heart. Because he knew, in another day, week, month or year, he would be back in front of the game, he would smile in a new avatar, and the game might not be that resilient. Sometimes, he loved the fact that his friends thought he was terribly cold. For his part, he couldn’t understand how they could be so… restrictive.
There was the first candidate, and his eyes would grin at him. He would make a mental note and approve of the open shirt, the speck of tanned skin at the neck that looked amazingly delicious. He would move his hand forward and touch a forearm in a pretense to get at the sugar packets. They would laugh, and he would move his chair in closer. The joke would be silly. Something about how dumb the hero of the latest Bollywood flick looked while performing his Spiderman moves, but there would be something terribly charming about how the player made his move that made the game laugh. And blush, when the player made his own pleasure boldly apparent.
Rule Two was that everyone likes being flattered on a date. That’s the easiest way to get them to take off their clothes.
**
But then clothes are terribly over-rated, she thought, smiling at the prey sitting opposite her, trying not to look at the horrendous zebra print shirt. It’s what I want underneath the clothes that’s important, she giggled to herself in a fit of girly sluttishness, and flushed a bit in a move that was calculated to get the prey feeling a tad hot in the air-conditioned coffee shop.
Clothes are terribly over-rated in the sense that she never bothered to dress up too much for her tricks. She was meeting them evening after evening, coffee after coffee, because she wanted to, and a girl can’t get dressed up all the time, she reasoned. So she would walk over from her office which was a short walk away from the coffee shop, play with her hair, undo the jacket, apply some brief gloss, and she would be perfect. It was the way she handled herself. The confidence, the poise, the combination of good girl and bad girl that made men turn their heads when she walked by. The élan when she crossed her legs, when she arrived at the coffee shop fifteen minutes before the appointed time, at her favourite table that was closest to the barista’s counter. That way, she could look clearly at everyone who entered the store, and she could amuse herself by flirting with the barista in the meantime. They played a game, she and the barista: he would pretend to know her name, and she would pretend to give it to him, but of course she would change it every day he asked her. She wondered briefly, when she saw the barista flush and dimple, whether she should get a trick with him sometime, but then abandoned the idea: it would unnecessarily complicate matters.
Rule Three was that a player’s arena must be a neutral zone. The player cannot toy with any of the original elements therein, as that would lead to complications. The perfect playing ground is hard to find – it can’t be too empty or too full or too remote or too prominent or too dim or too lit up or too open or too closed – and once a player finds his or her ground, the player tries not to fuck it up by messing around with the neutral elements.
So she would flirt with the barista, smile at him, touch his wrist when he would serve her coffee, but then never look at him afterwards, be suitably sweet when paying the bill but always leaving a tip and never giving him the opportunity to ask her out.
The flirting had additional advantages. If her Trick Of The Day was a good candidate – good shoes, great clothes, great smile, good build, no bad breath, with a car and a place where they could be uninterrupted for two hours – a brief flirting usually got them further intrigued. Men love slutty women. Men love to have sex with slutty women. And she used that to her advantage. The idea was to be a classy slut. The idea was to smile just so that her trick would think, she’s going out of my hand right now, if I don’t take her for a drive in my Merc right now, buy her flowers, and o god I want that ass! And the flirting was a great diversion in case the trick turned out to be disappointing and she had to ditch him: the server is my boyfriend, and I didn’t think he’s be working today but he is, so it’s best that you leave right now or he’ll smash your brain to a pulp.
Rule Four was that there is nothing like the hint of competition to get a man exceedingly horny or exceedingly scared.
**
But of course he had noticed her for a long time now. Sometimes, when he would come in early and survey the crowd, and there she would be sitting, legs crossed, flirting with the barista, and he would smirk to himself before looking out the window again to search out his game. Sometimes, while talking to his game, his eyes would linger on her, where she sat, and they would appreciate her long tanned legs, and the stilettos that seemed to make his heart beat faster. He would smile absentmindedly, especially if his game for the day was boring, demented or just ugly, and somehow, looking at her with her tricks, he would be inspired to come up with great excuses to dump his depressing game.
My boss just called, there’s an important contract I have to prepare back at the office.
This coffee tastes like shit, I think I’m going to be sick now.
Do you mind if I visit the loo?
I’m feeling hungry. I think maybe I should ditch coffee and have lunch. You’ve already eaten, right?
My flatmate is locked out of the apartment and is waiting for me to go and let him in right now.
That was my mum on the phone – we have unexpected (but important) guests at home, and I have to rush right now.
Rule Five was that you never looked too closely at a dumped trick’s face when you made your excuse: you flailed your arms, looked a bit lost and disappointed, gathered your bag, paid your half of the bill, and rushed out. Pronto.
Of course, other than the great inspiration she provided him with, he didn’t fail to notice that she was with a new trick every day at the coffee shop, and he would grin to himself. She’s a player, like me, he would think, and he would feel something that was a weird combination of the sexual and the non-sexual titillate him. It was difficult to put his finger on it. And he would look at her. And her loser tricks. And her hot tricks. And he would go to bed with his hot game. And dump the lame ones.
Rule Six was that Darwin had it abso-fuckin-lutely right, and the Creationists have lousy missionary style sex.
**
Rule Seven was to make the tricks and games of the world think they’re this Someone Special for the player, who can get the player to do strange and profound acts of tenderness. Licking chocolate out of a fork, while doing so, usually helps.
So now, while her trick gaped at her and declared that experimenting and free sex were definitely the order of the day, week, month and year, she leant back onto her chair, uncrossed and recrossed her legs and smiled gratefully. He… understood her. He would also understand if she wanted another expensive frappe, wouldn’t he?
Rule Eight was to make your move fast, she suddenly thought, when she stumbled on her heels, but was caught by the grip of the man who was coming over to the counter to ask for the cheque, and distinctly felt the fingers squeeze her lower back where they touched her. She knew it was the player, even before she turned around to thank him for catching her. She knew because she’d been noticing him for the past god knows how many days and weeks, and she’d known that his grip and his squeezing fingers would feel like that. She smiled to herself, and to him, when she saw the flicker and spark in his teeth and eyes when she turned around, and the rest happened like clockwork.
“Thank you. I’m fine now.”
“You’re very fine.”
“That was – “
“– an insane compliment.”
“I wanted coffee.”
“Maybe you wanted more than that.”
“What could I want?”
“I live nearby.”
“Let’s go.”
“I’ve paid.”
And while his game and her trick remained seated at their tables, bewildered at the brief conversation at the barista’s counter, the two players strode out the glass doors.
**
“We should have made love like animals,” she smiled, stretching herself, poking her long legs out of the printed coverlet on his bed.
“I always make love like an animal,” he replied, as her fingers traced an absurd pattern on his chest.
“You have such curly hair here,” she giggled, her player mode kicking back in, “I feel like I’m in a Mills & Boons novel here. Maybe you’ll turn out to be a big hairy knight or something!”
“You already met the big hairy knight,” he grinned, taking her hand down to his groin.
“Hairy, at any rate,” she teased, squeezing him, and he started laughing now, too, letting go of her hand.
“I should be going now, anyhow. My boss will start missing me,” she sighed, stepping out naked from underneath the coverlet.
He looked at her lithe body, as she stepped into her panties, and grinned again, “Is that your favourite excuse? I usually go for the Urgent Family Call!”
She laughed again, and threw one of the Hare Ram printed satin cushions strewn on the floor at him, which he ducked. “Did I tell you how much I love your place?”
“No, you were much too busy ripping my clothes off,” he retorted, pulling his drawstrings on now.
“That’s because I wanted to make love like an animal today. I was so completely in the mood,” she sighed wistfully.
He rearranged the thrown cushion on the divan below the bed, and his eyes twinkled when he spoke, “You knew who I was, right? I mean…. How could you not know….?”
“O, I knew, all right,” she nodded, grinning, and plopped down on the bed to step into her stilettos now, “But I just didn’t care. I thought – there are sparks, so let’s light them. And you thought the same – otherwise, you wouldn’t have brought me here!”
The player nodded in turn, and kneeled at her feet. “I like you. There’s chemistry.”
“There’s chemistry,” she agreed, “We’re both sluts.”
His smile broadened, “I love the way I am.”
She ruffled his hair, “I love the way I am, too. So it’s just perfect.”
She got up now, picked up her handbag, and turned back, “But I really have to go now, and since you have my number and I have yours, let’s catch up this Friday for drinks. I’ll introduce you to this bunch of friends I’m going dancing with.”
He grinned broadly and nodded happily, and she headed for the door. Looked back at him in his drawstring pants and ruffled curly hair, surrounded by his satin printed cushions, and beamed, “I love gay men!”
Blog: http://livinghigh.blogspot.com
The key to good flirting is confidence. If you have that, even the corniest of pick up lines will not let you down. And of course, he knew it. He’d been doing this forever. He was a player. Keen and sharp, with a seductive smile on his lips that all the candidates who met him here for coffee would ache to reach over and kiss, but would hold themselves just back. He knew how he did it, even though they didn’t. This was his place. He thought of himself as a decadent Austin Powers and this place as his mojo den.
For all intents and purposes – other than his – the place was a coffee shop.
Amber glow and warm liquids and friendly voices, and he would conduct his interviews here. One by one, day by day, evening by evening, over cups of coffee that ranged from lattes to mochas to the cheaper ‘house specials’ that the barista knew he would ask for. A grin, a wink, a polite “And what will you have? These guys make great coffee”, and they would be hooked.
But of course, it would depend on him, whether he would reel them in or not.
He was finicky. Not in the sense that snooty people are. His detractors and friends always said that he slept with anything that walked. He would smile and agree. He was a player. If he played you right, and you responded to some degree, he would be equally hooked. After the three hours or so it took to satiate him, he would ask you ever so politely to leave his apartment, just a block away from the amber coloured coffee shop. And his chemistry was such that, you would probably call or sms him a couple of days later, asking for a rematch, even though you knew he was never the kind who repeated his tricks.
So he would make it a point to reach the coffee shop fifteen minutes before the appointed time, and settle into his chair, the table which overlooked the road outside, and grin at the barista for his usual – a cheaper ‘special’ to tide him over till his trick arrived. Sometimes, he would run his eyes over the rest of people in the store, and if he saw a specimen that turned him on, he would stare fixedly, till the object of his gaze would look up, and he would smile. Just like that. Sometimes it helped to fix another date for the next day. Sometimes, it would result in nothing at all. But that was ok. He was familiar with the rules of the game.
Rule One was that nobody wins all the time. There’s no such thing as a perfect run, and he was game for that. He was game for the thrill of wondering whether he would win or not. And if he lost, he never took it to heart. Because he knew, in another day, week, month or year, he would be back in front of the game, he would smile in a new avatar, and the game might not be that resilient. Sometimes, he loved the fact that his friends thought he was terribly cold. For his part, he couldn’t understand how they could be so… restrictive.
There was the first candidate, and his eyes would grin at him. He would make a mental note and approve of the open shirt, the speck of tanned skin at the neck that looked amazingly delicious. He would move his hand forward and touch a forearm in a pretense to get at the sugar packets. They would laugh, and he would move his chair in closer. The joke would be silly. Something about how dumb the hero of the latest Bollywood flick looked while performing his Spiderman moves, but there would be something terribly charming about how the player made his move that made the game laugh. And blush, when the player made his own pleasure boldly apparent.
Rule Two was that everyone likes being flattered on a date. That’s the easiest way to get them to take off their clothes.
**
But then clothes are terribly over-rated, she thought, smiling at the prey sitting opposite her, trying not to look at the horrendous zebra print shirt. It’s what I want underneath the clothes that’s important, she giggled to herself in a fit of girly sluttishness, and flushed a bit in a move that was calculated to get the prey feeling a tad hot in the air-conditioned coffee shop.
Clothes are terribly over-rated in the sense that she never bothered to dress up too much for her tricks. She was meeting them evening after evening, coffee after coffee, because she wanted to, and a girl can’t get dressed up all the time, she reasoned. So she would walk over from her office which was a short walk away from the coffee shop, play with her hair, undo the jacket, apply some brief gloss, and she would be perfect. It was the way she handled herself. The confidence, the poise, the combination of good girl and bad girl that made men turn their heads when she walked by. The élan when she crossed her legs, when she arrived at the coffee shop fifteen minutes before the appointed time, at her favourite table that was closest to the barista’s counter. That way, she could look clearly at everyone who entered the store, and she could amuse herself by flirting with the barista in the meantime. They played a game, she and the barista: he would pretend to know her name, and she would pretend to give it to him, but of course she would change it every day he asked her. She wondered briefly, when she saw the barista flush and dimple, whether she should get a trick with him sometime, but then abandoned the idea: it would unnecessarily complicate matters.
Rule Three was that a player’s arena must be a neutral zone. The player cannot toy with any of the original elements therein, as that would lead to complications. The perfect playing ground is hard to find – it can’t be too empty or too full or too remote or too prominent or too dim or too lit up or too open or too closed – and once a player finds his or her ground, the player tries not to fuck it up by messing around with the neutral elements.
So she would flirt with the barista, smile at him, touch his wrist when he would serve her coffee, but then never look at him afterwards, be suitably sweet when paying the bill but always leaving a tip and never giving him the opportunity to ask her out.
The flirting had additional advantages. If her Trick Of The Day was a good candidate – good shoes, great clothes, great smile, good build, no bad breath, with a car and a place where they could be uninterrupted for two hours – a brief flirting usually got them further intrigued. Men love slutty women. Men love to have sex with slutty women. And she used that to her advantage. The idea was to be a classy slut. The idea was to smile just so that her trick would think, she’s going out of my hand right now, if I don’t take her for a drive in my Merc right now, buy her flowers, and o god I want that ass! And the flirting was a great diversion in case the trick turned out to be disappointing and she had to ditch him: the server is my boyfriend, and I didn’t think he’s be working today but he is, so it’s best that you leave right now or he’ll smash your brain to a pulp.
Rule Four was that there is nothing like the hint of competition to get a man exceedingly horny or exceedingly scared.
**
But of course he had noticed her for a long time now. Sometimes, when he would come in early and survey the crowd, and there she would be sitting, legs crossed, flirting with the barista, and he would smirk to himself before looking out the window again to search out his game. Sometimes, while talking to his game, his eyes would linger on her, where she sat, and they would appreciate her long tanned legs, and the stilettos that seemed to make his heart beat faster. He would smile absentmindedly, especially if his game for the day was boring, demented or just ugly, and somehow, looking at her with her tricks, he would be inspired to come up with great excuses to dump his depressing game.
My boss just called, there’s an important contract I have to prepare back at the office.
This coffee tastes like shit, I think I’m going to be sick now.
Do you mind if I visit the loo?
I’m feeling hungry. I think maybe I should ditch coffee and have lunch. You’ve already eaten, right?
My flatmate is locked out of the apartment and is waiting for me to go and let him in right now.
That was my mum on the phone – we have unexpected (but important) guests at home, and I have to rush right now.
Rule Five was that you never looked too closely at a dumped trick’s face when you made your excuse: you flailed your arms, looked a bit lost and disappointed, gathered your bag, paid your half of the bill, and rushed out. Pronto.
Of course, other than the great inspiration she provided him with, he didn’t fail to notice that she was with a new trick every day at the coffee shop, and he would grin to himself. She’s a player, like me, he would think, and he would feel something that was a weird combination of the sexual and the non-sexual titillate him. It was difficult to put his finger on it. And he would look at her. And her loser tricks. And her hot tricks. And he would go to bed with his hot game. And dump the lame ones.
Rule Six was that Darwin had it abso-fuckin-lutely right, and the Creationists have lousy missionary style sex.
**
Rule Seven was to make the tricks and games of the world think they’re this Someone Special for the player, who can get the player to do strange and profound acts of tenderness. Licking chocolate out of a fork, while doing so, usually helps.
So now, while her trick gaped at her and declared that experimenting and free sex were definitely the order of the day, week, month and year, she leant back onto her chair, uncrossed and recrossed her legs and smiled gratefully. He… understood her. He would also understand if she wanted another expensive frappe, wouldn’t he?
Rule Eight was to make your move fast, she suddenly thought, when she stumbled on her heels, but was caught by the grip of the man who was coming over to the counter to ask for the cheque, and distinctly felt the fingers squeeze her lower back where they touched her. She knew it was the player, even before she turned around to thank him for catching her. She knew because she’d been noticing him for the past god knows how many days and weeks, and she’d known that his grip and his squeezing fingers would feel like that. She smiled to herself, and to him, when she saw the flicker and spark in his teeth and eyes when she turned around, and the rest happened like clockwork.
“Thank you. I’m fine now.”
“You’re very fine.”
“That was – “
“– an insane compliment.”
“I wanted coffee.”
“Maybe you wanted more than that.”
“What could I want?”
“I live nearby.”
“Let’s go.”
“I’ve paid.”
And while his game and her trick remained seated at their tables, bewildered at the brief conversation at the barista’s counter, the two players strode out the glass doors.
**
“We should have made love like animals,” she smiled, stretching herself, poking her long legs out of the printed coverlet on his bed.
“I always make love like an animal,” he replied, as her fingers traced an absurd pattern on his chest.
“You have such curly hair here,” she giggled, her player mode kicking back in, “I feel like I’m in a Mills & Boons novel here. Maybe you’ll turn out to be a big hairy knight or something!”
“You already met the big hairy knight,” he grinned, taking her hand down to his groin.
“Hairy, at any rate,” she teased, squeezing him, and he started laughing now, too, letting go of her hand.
“I should be going now, anyhow. My boss will start missing me,” she sighed, stepping out naked from underneath the coverlet.
He looked at her lithe body, as she stepped into her panties, and grinned again, “Is that your favourite excuse? I usually go for the Urgent Family Call!”
She laughed again, and threw one of the Hare Ram printed satin cushions strewn on the floor at him, which he ducked. “Did I tell you how much I love your place?”
“No, you were much too busy ripping my clothes off,” he retorted, pulling his drawstrings on now.
“That’s because I wanted to make love like an animal today. I was so completely in the mood,” she sighed wistfully.
He rearranged the thrown cushion on the divan below the bed, and his eyes twinkled when he spoke, “You knew who I was, right? I mean…. How could you not know….?”
“O, I knew, all right,” she nodded, grinning, and plopped down on the bed to step into her stilettos now, “But I just didn’t care. I thought – there are sparks, so let’s light them. And you thought the same – otherwise, you wouldn’t have brought me here!”
The player nodded in turn, and kneeled at her feet. “I like you. There’s chemistry.”
“There’s chemistry,” she agreed, “We’re both sluts.”
His smile broadened, “I love the way I am.”
She ruffled his hair, “I love the way I am, too. So it’s just perfect.”
She got up now, picked up her handbag, and turned back, “But I really have to go now, and since you have my number and I have yours, let’s catch up this Friday for drinks. I’ll introduce you to this bunch of friends I’m going dancing with.”
He grinned broadly and nodded happily, and she headed for the door. Looked back at him in his drawstring pants and ruffled curly hair, surrounded by his satin printed cushions, and beamed, “I love gay men!”
(3) Redchrono Lights
Blogger: Quasar9
Blog: http://quasar9.blogspot.com/
Blog: http://quasar9.blogspot.com/
Redchrono Electronic Xmas Lights
Some say I'm a particle, some say I'm a wave
oscillating at Xmas parties or New Year's rave
I even cheer-up Santa's Grotto, Santa's cave
A thousand airport runways at night I pave
every safe landing, pilots from error I save
People try to tell me where & how to behave
or which way they want me to pass & wave
if you are lucky I'll pretend to be your slave
but nothing can hold me down not the grave
The star on top, the xmas fairy she's a babe
but on Xmas trees, I'm all the children's fave
You can turn me on, you can turn me off
but never ever call me David Hasselhoff
A flick of the switch, and I'll start to glow
if you really want I'll put on quite a show
but mostly I just like to go with the flow
Thru the day & thru the night I like to play
I like to flicker on your dashboard display
Many lights you can see as you race thru town
Many lights when you cruise and travel around
In your car & dashboard display I'm the king
on the electronic dashboard I'm the real thing
I can be seen from near, can be seen from afar
but you know there is really nothing on a par
with how red the light glows inside your car
From the pages of Charmed, a White Lighter
I'm on the dashboard of kit from Night Rider
And if you listen to Pink, or Shirley Bassey
the uk extravaganza the M&S xmas ad for tv
You'll know "I can go for miles and miles..."
From the film Tron you are sure to have known
I can move faster than a supercharged electron
almost as if something from another dimension
passing thru gates & switches, I go on and on
Every person knows me, and drivers look for me
They want to know how fast they are travelling
They want to know how fast in the car to go
I silently keep them informed of the throbbing
the revs under the bonnet or long french capot
At great speeds, lying low on the faster roads
I'm even in the cockpits of passenger jumbo jets
flying at 30,000 feet or more, higher up above
flowing swiftly, flowing fast, graceful as I rove
Racing at 200KMH on the German autobahn
turn up the radio as it starts Golden Earring's
"Radar love" with words about forgotten song
music for those who been driving all night long
In France we finally arrive, nearing the tunnel
in Paris where Princess Diana did hit the rail
like someone straight out of a tragic fairy tale
On the stereo listen - to Billy Idol sing & roar
In the midnight hour, I want more, more, more
Enter the tunnel of light, steady as she goes
So you may have thought I had to be hard wired
for anything to get me excited, to get me fired
but as you can see here I never never get tired
when I'm in full flow and by you feeling inspired
(2) The Colorless Soul
[Blogger: Dreamvendor]
[Blog: http://coffeeandstories.blogspot.com]
[Blog: http://coffeeandstories.blogspot.com]
Have you ever loved a woman so much that you can give your everything for her? Have you ever been in love with a woman who can erase your past, camouflage your future and beautify your present just by being in it for you? I have. Siddarth. I’m dead. It is all over. I died in a snap of a finger and left her all alone in lost love and agony. Mansi.
After one week, I saw her sleep on our bed. Her bed. She must have cried all night. I saw how bad the kohl had disfigured her beautiful eyes. She always had a thin line of kohl embellishing the rim of her eyes. That day, she lay there with ruffled hair and puffed eyes. The kohl on her eyes looked no more beautiful. It must have been really cold. The windows were open. Yet she lay there on the bed hugging the pillow. My pillow. She let the cold winter wind cruise her body. Maybe she needed the chillness. Maybe she just needed me. “Wake up Mansi. Let us have coffee”, I whispered. She opened her eyes as if she heard me. I wish she did. I wished I could have conversations with her. I wished I made her feel my presence. She lazily saw the clock beside her. It was 7.30 AM. A lazy Sunday. Maybe she was reminded of the Sunday rule. I cook. I do the dishes. She is the boss for the day. Who is going to cook for her today? Who is going to get her the coffee now?
She got off the bed and stepped into her slip-ons. She walked into the kitchen to make herself a coffee. She stood by the coffeemaker and kept thinking about something. I wished I could be beside her and make that coffee for her. Just coffee. No sugar. No milk. She liked it that way. But I was right next to her and she will never realize how close. She made the coffee and walked towards the balcony. On her way, she stood by the mirror and looked at the kohl around her eyes. She placed the coffee mug on the table and pulled out a tissue to wipe off the kohl. It was gone. But yet the pain in her eyes lurked. She must have been starved of smiles. She walked to the balcony and sat in her couch looking at my couch with yearning eyes. When will she ever give up? Of these little things that reminded her of me. Of our Sundays together. Of how we used to have long conversations over coffee. How we used to argue over petty things. Once we ended up arguing about Laloo Prasad Yadav. She felt he had a cool hair style. I thought otherwise. She wouldn’t give up. Finally I gave up, as usual, just for her, and also agreed to have such hair style when I grow old. She was happy. Here she is, staring into the dazed wintry sky. Into the emptiness.
She sat there in silence for over an hour until the sky gave up and poured. A surprise shower on a cold winter day. The rain lashed into the balcony and on her. She sat there unperturbed. Of the rain. Not of the pain. Rain water fell into the coffee and the bamboo couch was getting wet. She sat there staring into the dark sky. Her face looked pale. She must be crying. I couldn’t make it out as the rain drops were perched on her face and flowed down as if to feel her. How long will she sit there and let the rain ransack her body? Her emotions. Her loneliness. Will the rain flush down her pregnant mind? She might have heard me. She stood up and walked into the house. Water dripped from her night gown as she walked in. I followed her like the trail that the water drops left behind on her path. A trail of tears. Of her memories. Of me.
I was with her. In her every move. When I was alive I traveled like there was no life at home. She stayed home waiting for me to come back. I traveled. For work. For money. When I got back I usually got her expensive gifts. She always looked forward to be with me instead. Now I’m here spending every single moment with her. But she can never realize that. She starved. She slept. She watched television. She read. She slept again. Whatever she did, I was with her. Every moment.
She woke up to see the darkness. It was 7PM. She had slept for a long time. The silence after the rain wasn’t pleasant to me for the first time in my life. Life? I think I have grown impatient after my death. She sleepily walked to the bathroom, turned on the water in the bathtub and dropped in the bath salts. She turned on the radio and began to undress. She sank into the tub and closed her eyes. I sat beside her. How pretty she looks. Be it early in the morning or late in the night. The charm lies in her smile and the flawless skin. She smiled all of a sudden. I sank into my own tub of worries for not being able to let her know that I was right next her. After her beauty bath she stepped out and I was mesmerized at her pristine body all over again. I’m never going to feel her ever again.
She wore one of my favorite sarees. The black sequined one that was made just for her. She put on her diamond-studded necklace. The glitter can never overshadow her looks. She looked her own self that evening. Mansi. Simple. But elegant. She kept staring at the mirror. And then threw a smile. What was running on her mind? She pulled out my favorite perfume and dabbed it gently. She pulled out her lipstick and glossed her lips. This was the only thing I never liked and it has been quite sometime since I saw her putting it on. She looked complete. Beautiful. Elegant. But for the lipstick.
She walked to the living room and cleaned the couch. Maybe someone is coming. Maybe her friends are coming over. But why is she dressed for me? She sat in the couch watching television and I sat beside her. Looking at her. Somebody was at the door. She walked hurriedly and opened it. A dandy looking handsome man stood at the door with a bunch of flowers in his hands. She gave it to her and kissed her on her cheeks. She closed the door behind him. They sat there on the couch. Close to each other. I sat opposite to her. And her friend. “What took you so long?” she asked. The same question she used to ask me every time I was late. “I had to stop by to pick some flowers and some Chinese food for you” he said effortlessly. I was usually grumpy after a tiring day and said “Just work”. But at least, I never lied to her.
She pulled him close to her and comforted herself in his warm breath. “I cried all night”, she said. Maybe she is going to tell him how much she missed me and how painful it is to go through it. A friend does help at times such as these. “I know, I was rude yesterday. I’m Sorry”, he said and threw his arm around her, It wasn’t me then. The tears were for him. Because of him. She was in his thought all through the day while I followed her like her shadow every moment. I was beginning to feel heavy in spite of being invisible. My wife and her friend. In each other’s arms. They watched the television. They laughed at it. They smiled at it. They even frowned at it. And then they kissed. For a long time. Did I have a heart to watch it? Oh no! The heart stopped a few days back and that is why I’m dead and gone. Should I be happy to see her with another man after my death? Or should I still want her to live in my thoughts? Forever? She must move on. I should be happy that she could do it this fast. The moving on in life.
They then moved away from each other. Maybe it was my presence. Maybe it happened because I was not there. They sat down at the table to have their Chinese dinner. She unwrapped a box of prawns. She smiled at him. My favorite prawns. She had served that to me on that fateful night. I had choked on prawns while relishing it hurriedly. And my life was gone in the snap of a finger. “Siddarth liked these prawns that you had served that night didn’t he?” he asked as he served her. “Yeah. He thought I cooked it for him” she began to eat. “And he died just like that as soon as he took the second bite!” he laughed. “Everybody knows now that he died coz of prawns. He choked” she said. “We know that you had poisoned him” he said and moved closer to her.
If I had had a heart, it would have been shattered and I would have shed tears for each of those million dilapidated pieces. But all I could do was dissolve in thin air. The colorless soul. With moisture. In pain. Of betrayal.
After one week, I saw her sleep on our bed. Her bed. She must have cried all night. I saw how bad the kohl had disfigured her beautiful eyes. She always had a thin line of kohl embellishing the rim of her eyes. That day, she lay there with ruffled hair and puffed eyes. The kohl on her eyes looked no more beautiful. It must have been really cold. The windows were open. Yet she lay there on the bed hugging the pillow. My pillow. She let the cold winter wind cruise her body. Maybe she needed the chillness. Maybe she just needed me. “Wake up Mansi. Let us have coffee”, I whispered. She opened her eyes as if she heard me. I wish she did. I wished I could have conversations with her. I wished I made her feel my presence. She lazily saw the clock beside her. It was 7.30 AM. A lazy Sunday. Maybe she was reminded of the Sunday rule. I cook. I do the dishes. She is the boss for the day. Who is going to cook for her today? Who is going to get her the coffee now?
She got off the bed and stepped into her slip-ons. She walked into the kitchen to make herself a coffee. She stood by the coffeemaker and kept thinking about something. I wished I could be beside her and make that coffee for her. Just coffee. No sugar. No milk. She liked it that way. But I was right next to her and she will never realize how close. She made the coffee and walked towards the balcony. On her way, she stood by the mirror and looked at the kohl around her eyes. She placed the coffee mug on the table and pulled out a tissue to wipe off the kohl. It was gone. But yet the pain in her eyes lurked. She must have been starved of smiles. She walked to the balcony and sat in her couch looking at my couch with yearning eyes. When will she ever give up? Of these little things that reminded her of me. Of our Sundays together. Of how we used to have long conversations over coffee. How we used to argue over petty things. Once we ended up arguing about Laloo Prasad Yadav. She felt he had a cool hair style. I thought otherwise. She wouldn’t give up. Finally I gave up, as usual, just for her, and also agreed to have such hair style when I grow old. She was happy. Here she is, staring into the dazed wintry sky. Into the emptiness.
She sat there in silence for over an hour until the sky gave up and poured. A surprise shower on a cold winter day. The rain lashed into the balcony and on her. She sat there unperturbed. Of the rain. Not of the pain. Rain water fell into the coffee and the bamboo couch was getting wet. She sat there staring into the dark sky. Her face looked pale. She must be crying. I couldn’t make it out as the rain drops were perched on her face and flowed down as if to feel her. How long will she sit there and let the rain ransack her body? Her emotions. Her loneliness. Will the rain flush down her pregnant mind? She might have heard me. She stood up and walked into the house. Water dripped from her night gown as she walked in. I followed her like the trail that the water drops left behind on her path. A trail of tears. Of her memories. Of me.
I was with her. In her every move. When I was alive I traveled like there was no life at home. She stayed home waiting for me to come back. I traveled. For work. For money. When I got back I usually got her expensive gifts. She always looked forward to be with me instead. Now I’m here spending every single moment with her. But she can never realize that. She starved. She slept. She watched television. She read. She slept again. Whatever she did, I was with her. Every moment.
She woke up to see the darkness. It was 7PM. She had slept for a long time. The silence after the rain wasn’t pleasant to me for the first time in my life. Life? I think I have grown impatient after my death. She sleepily walked to the bathroom, turned on the water in the bathtub and dropped in the bath salts. She turned on the radio and began to undress. She sank into the tub and closed her eyes. I sat beside her. How pretty she looks. Be it early in the morning or late in the night. The charm lies in her smile and the flawless skin. She smiled all of a sudden. I sank into my own tub of worries for not being able to let her know that I was right next her. After her beauty bath she stepped out and I was mesmerized at her pristine body all over again. I’m never going to feel her ever again.
She wore one of my favorite sarees. The black sequined one that was made just for her. She put on her diamond-studded necklace. The glitter can never overshadow her looks. She looked her own self that evening. Mansi. Simple. But elegant. She kept staring at the mirror. And then threw a smile. What was running on her mind? She pulled out my favorite perfume and dabbed it gently. She pulled out her lipstick and glossed her lips. This was the only thing I never liked and it has been quite sometime since I saw her putting it on. She looked complete. Beautiful. Elegant. But for the lipstick.
She walked to the living room and cleaned the couch. Maybe someone is coming. Maybe her friends are coming over. But why is she dressed for me? She sat in the couch watching television and I sat beside her. Looking at her. Somebody was at the door. She walked hurriedly and opened it. A dandy looking handsome man stood at the door with a bunch of flowers in his hands. She gave it to her and kissed her on her cheeks. She closed the door behind him. They sat there on the couch. Close to each other. I sat opposite to her. And her friend. “What took you so long?” she asked. The same question she used to ask me every time I was late. “I had to stop by to pick some flowers and some Chinese food for you” he said effortlessly. I was usually grumpy after a tiring day and said “Just work”. But at least, I never lied to her.
She pulled him close to her and comforted herself in his warm breath. “I cried all night”, she said. Maybe she is going to tell him how much she missed me and how painful it is to go through it. A friend does help at times such as these. “I know, I was rude yesterday. I’m Sorry”, he said and threw his arm around her, It wasn’t me then. The tears were for him. Because of him. She was in his thought all through the day while I followed her like her shadow every moment. I was beginning to feel heavy in spite of being invisible. My wife and her friend. In each other’s arms. They watched the television. They laughed at it. They smiled at it. They even frowned at it. And then they kissed. For a long time. Did I have a heart to watch it? Oh no! The heart stopped a few days back and that is why I’m dead and gone. Should I be happy to see her with another man after my death? Or should I still want her to live in my thoughts? Forever? She must move on. I should be happy that she could do it this fast. The moving on in life.
They then moved away from each other. Maybe it was my presence. Maybe it happened because I was not there. They sat down at the table to have their Chinese dinner. She unwrapped a box of prawns. She smiled at him. My favorite prawns. She had served that to me on that fateful night. I had choked on prawns while relishing it hurriedly. And my life was gone in the snap of a finger. “Siddarth liked these prawns that you had served that night didn’t he?” he asked as he served her. “Yeah. He thought I cooked it for him” she began to eat. “And he died just like that as soon as he took the second bite!” he laughed. “Everybody knows now that he died coz of prawns. He choked” she said. “We know that you had poisoned him” he said and moved closer to her.
If I had had a heart, it would have been shattered and I would have shed tears for each of those million dilapidated pieces. But all I could do was dissolve in thin air. The colorless soul. With moisture. In pain. Of betrayal.
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