Love of A Lifetime

Love came to him, in the river.

She flowed towards him..........
All peaceful and serene.

He swam towards her.........
Knowing his love would last.

All that was unspoken ..............
would be in the past.

With the silent river she flowed ..........
towards the sea.

He drowned thinking................
this love was not to be.

Enjoyed doing this 55 er....

A literary work will be considered 55 Fiction if it has:

• Fifty-five words or less (A non-negotiable rule)


• A setting,


• One or more characters,


• Some conflict,


• and


• A resolution. (Not limited to moral of the story)

[The image above has been uploaded from Google Images Search.In case of any objection to its use to this post, it shall be removed.]

LOVE AND SORROW

I read this beautiful, heartwarming post By IHM, on her blog. And then decided to reproduce this forward I had got. The source is of course unknown......It conveys a lot....one thing is for certain that birds donot differ from humans in emotions.....and its not only feathers that make a bird.......
Swallows
Here his wife is injured and the condition is fatal.
She was hit by a car as she swooped low across the road.

Here he brought her food and attended to her with Love and compassion.

He brought her food again but was shocked to find her dead.He tried to move her....a rarely-seen effort for swallows!

Aware that his sweetheart is dead and will never come back to him again, he cries

with adoring love.

He stood beside her, saddened of her death.

Finally aware that she would never return to him, he stood beside her body with sadness and sorrow.

Millions of people cried after watching this picture in America and Europe and even in India . It is said that the photographer sold these pictures for a nominal fee to themost famous newspaper in France . All copies of that newspaper were sold out on the day these pictures were published.
Do you still think animals don't have a brain or feelings?????

LIFE.........AND ME

I just read this quote by Dr. Phil on my blog………'Life is a marathon, it's not a sprint'
Set me thinking........

Really………The meaning of life is different to each person…But To Me Life is …

Life is making mistakes, and learning from them
Life is not only being busy but also being able to do nothing
Life is being honest and fair...and yet also faking it at times
Life is sometimes easy, most of the times difficult. I have learnt how to glide thru
Life is made up of big sorrows and small happiness. The small always outweighs the big.
Life is living your dreams, and sometimes chasing them
Life is never the life we imagine, we just keep moving towards our imagination
Life is supposed to be short, but never long enough to pursue our dreams to our hearts desire
Life always gives situations, easy to get into, but difficult to get out of
Life is making plans, but getting surprises.
Life is full of dreams, but demands action
Life is not only wanting happiness, but also giving it
Life is full of passion, and understanding of joys and sorrows
LIFE IS LIFE……SPRINT OR MARATHON…..
It just is worth living...and I make it so, I choose to look for the rainbow behind the dark clouds, I look for the smile that follows the tears. I think of my friends, who brighten my being; I cling on to the memory of my children, grandchildren, to keep the child in me alive
I decide to live it as new everyday….I laugh and breathe life. I am my own spectator of my own life..................and I love living it.

I Love Being A Woman

A friend of mine is visiting me, and while having one of our many heart to heart conversations, she surprised me by saying …If there is rebirth; I want to be born a man, and not a woman. And I thought to myself…no, I love being a woman and I would love to be born a woman again. I have been pondering ever since - what is it that makes me feel like a woman, what does being a woman mean to me, and above all why do I love being a woman.

Being a woman is a difficult task, more so in today’s world. No more are we put on a pedestal, but we have to combine marriage, children, home, and a career. Nobody wants to hear what we think; we cannot have a career unless it is for the financial stability for the family. In spite of the fact a woman is called “Ardhangini” once married, we still have to find ways to express our self. In a patriarchal world, finding one's voice is difficult……but we manage fairly well.

There is so much to being a woman…..monthly cycles, while a man would struggle with it, we women have learnt to accept it willingly, becaz that’s tied to the most beautiful experience...childbirth..Our greatest achievement.

And the other great achievement is … we willingly accept we are weak [though the feminists would disagree] but weak we are maybe only physically…Our inner strength, resilience, ability to laugh even when hurting inside…. letting our tears flow freely, and also be able to giggle uncontrollably…..all this comes so easy to us. What would the world be, but cold and impersonal but for our feminine touch?

There is so much to being a woman…and yes I love it all. My moods, my ability not to understand it all, my quirks, and my ability to keep quiet even when I know it all. When I am depressed I eat or shop, I have learnt that nobody shall give me power, I just have it within me, and I make the choice not to take it... Oh yes, I am full of contradictions, and yet I can get away with it all. I have not made the rules [they say men have] so I do not have to live upto them.

I can be beautiful, be an illusion, wear my tears like a piece of jewellery, hide my brains, speak the language of silence and say it all, my touch is better than a bandage at times[ say my kids], my instincts are better than my reasons, my weakness is also my strength. I know less but understand more, and I always have the last word. I as a woman can say sorry with my smiles and tears. My strengths - even though hidden, have their influence. I have the power to make life and above all to make it worthwhile….yes I love being a woman. The list is endless...And so I love being a woman, and yes I would love to be born again and again as a woman.

A Void Forever.....

Death….sure is a cold word…leaves u all numb, the pain never easing. Two months ago, my dearest friend passed away tragically in a road accident…My mothers words Ajay is gone, still ring in my ears. Never did I realize that grief could be so raw, so crippling and disabling .The raw power of my emotions amazed me..

Life has not been the same ever since. I live but do not feel alive; hours have turned into days and days into months…. I want to move on, but simply cannot.
I don’t want to forget Ajay, but I do not want the remembering to be so painful too. The times that I laugh, and am happy, I feel guilty. I ask myself have I moved on so fast, and then I am wrapped in grief again. Nothing can justify the fact that he has gone, missing, disappeared from my life…..
Questions, questions and more questions is all I have….Where is he now? Is he alright? Was his passing over painful? Why is he gone, and why am I still here? Can He see me and hear me? Does he know that he is missed?why why why…and life is so full of why?

Just when he was learning to live, he died. And so did a part of me. With his death I too have lost the opportunity, to sing, laugh, cry, and share with him. And all I am left with is this cloud of grief, the weight of which I cannot measure. Life indeed has been altered forever.
My well wishers keep telling me…you will get over it, time is a big healer. Will I? How? Will the gap, the hole I feel inside me ever fill….I guess not, because that was the place he made in my heart. .....

A Matter of Choice

I got this Forward From a friend.....and thought of sharing it with all. Some of us must have read this earlier......makes interesting read.

A blind boy sat on the steps of a building with a hat by his feet. He held up a sign which said: 'I am blind, please help..' There were only a few coins in the hat.man was walking by. He took a few coins from his pocket and dropped them into the hat. He then took the sign, turned it around, and wrote some words. He put the sign back so that everyone who walked by would see the new words.Soon the hat began to fill up. A lot more people were giving money to the blind boy. That afternoon the man who had changed the sign came to see how things were.
The boy recognized his footsteps and asked, 'Were you the one who changed my sign this morning? What did you write?'The man said, 'I only wrote the truth. I said what you said but in a different way.'What he had written was: 'Today is a beautiful day and I cannot see it.'
Do you think the first sign and the second sign were saying the same thing?Of course both signs told people the boy was blind. But the first sign simply said the boy was blind. The second sign told people they were so lucky that they were not blind. Should we be surprised that the second sign was more effective?
Moral of the Story: Be thankful for what you have. Be creative. Be innovative. Think differently and positively.Invite others towards good with wisdom. Live life with no excuse and love with no regrets. When life gives you a 100 reasons to cry, show life that you have 1000 reasons to smile. Face your past without regret. Handle your present with confidence. Prepare for the future without fear. Keep the faith and drop the fear.
Great men say, 'Life has to be an incessant process of repair and reconstruction, of discarding evil and developing goodness…. In the journey of life, if you want to travel without fear, you must have the ticket of a good conscience.'
The most beautiful thing is to see a person smiling…And even more beautiful is, knowing that you are the reason behind it!!!

Me and I......

My Favourite person is My Me these days…but with my limited talents, my Me is showing signs of boredom. Thus I’ thought it would be happy to give My Me company

While I is getting all busy trying to find ways to amuse My Me….Me would rather have no I. Me knows this I can really get irritating not only for oneself but also for others. With this I coming in the way of My Me,...there are going to be problems, it can get into your heart, your being and your brain….and if that happens My poor Me is going to be so vulnerable, it is going to get hurt and messed up. This I will make Me feel stupid, and no different than the ones Me wants to stay away from.
Me is petrified, terrified because this I is gnawing at it slowly, it shall make Me do something dumb one day.Once I gets inside Me, it shall take Me hostage. This I can develop so many different personalities That Me shall be lonely.
I wants to be acquainted with Me.And by doing so it can tell Me about aspects that puzzle Me, I would give Me power, the tools to survive. Me then wouldn’t have to lock itself and be scared.
The tug of war continues…I wants to touch Me. Me does not want to be paralyzed.

Me is born to learn to grow, to expand, to create and to enjoy. With I , Me would loose itself. Me was not born to be perfect but with I taking over, all Me would get is imperfection.
I will change Me, and that shall make all the difference.

ME.....My Mothers Child

Am visiting my 74 year old mum, and in my mums adult world..I at 49 am the child. I am loving every minute of being the child…my mum has decided that I need to be fed, shopped for, need to get a haircut, and of course need to have the vitamin supplements too. So my mum has her hands full..
Day 1 and am having so much fun being the child, …I am listening to all that she says now, without questioning, showing more acceptance to why she says what she says. Am back to my carefree days, with no responsibilities.My life’s day to day problems are being worked out by her. All I do is lie in bed, chat turn and go back to sleep. The days are back to being nice and good, doing nothing has not tired me yet. I look at her and once again wonder how she can do so much at her age….and if as a child just a kiss from her would take the pain away, now its just her loving look that takes it all away.

I am finding so much pleasure in doing these simple things with her. We went out shopping yesterday, or should I say my mum took me shopping. and like a little kid there I was telling her what I liked and what I wanted, my wanting a beige suit got me a magenta becaz beiges are meant for the old like her[and I smiled ,secretly telling my self, I would have never worn this , if mum hadn’t bought it for me].Like kids we had chaat papdi…mine was restricted to 4 becaz I could come down with a bad throat what with the change in weather…and also becaz I had to have the kulfi falooda ..so that as that….Her enthusiasm on being a mother has caught on…I want to play along with her, skip down the street and run against the wind, and I have this funny look about me.
True to being a child, I realize I do not have a past or a future only a present. At that point of time, I was neither a wife, a parent or a grandparent, I was just my mothers child…my smile was a source of joy to her….
The day went by,. and I discovered for my self that to all we were two women shopping, but to myself I was a child on a day out with my mother. I knew how to be childlike without being childish.
Late at night when I finally got into my bed , my mum said ,”what is a home without children” and I hugged her and looked at her to say something…and my mum said” I love you too”……..and I went to sleep thinking…Only a mother Understands what a child does not say