Lines that touched my life

There are numerous lines quoted all thorough history, like the famous, "You too, Brutus" by Ceaser. I have my list of favorites, lines that are imprinted in the mind and keep coming back. I though I'd list down the top few here today:

1. Still young, still beautiful, still attractive
The Necklace by Guy de Maupassant.
Story of a girl who dreams through life, craving for all good things which she cannot afford to have. She imprisons herself in her desires, envying a rich school friend. When the chance came to be part of a grand party, she borrows a diamond necklace from this friend, and lives her dream. But it lasts just one evening, and then nightmare follows. The necklace is lost, and in a bid to replace this, her husband gets too much into debt, and she bravely succumbs to real poverty. At the end of ten years when the debts have been paid, the once beautiful girl, with so many dreams has aged prematurely by toil and hardship. Then she sees her old friend, who is still young, still beautiful, still attractive. The story ends in a still pathetic note when the friend says it was just an imitation and all the years of her despair and shame had been in vain.

2. Am I beautiful?
A Cup of Tea by Katherine Mansfield.
Famous short story of a rich, young woman, petted greatly by her husband without a care in the world. She spends her time shopping and living easy. One day she gets tempted the play the kind rich lady when a girl on the street asks for money for a cup of tea. She takes the into her home, and day dreams of being spoken about as very benevolent, and kind. All change the minute her husband walks in and casually says that the girl is pretty. The next we see the big hearted lady, is on her husband's lap, asking, "Am I beautiful?", with the girl sent back to the streets.

3. After all... tomorrow is another day
Gone with the wind by Margaret Mitchell.
The heroine is a much sought after girl of sixteen at the beginning of the story, her only focus being on stealing beau, and upsetting the other girls. She is strong willed, attractive, and the only man she truly loves marries another. The rest of the book is on how she wastes her life, and is blind to anyone's love thinking of him. Her whole world shakes with the revolution, and she shows a side which the reader would not have expected so far - strong, with everyone depending on her and through the book the reader knows how this girl of sixteen is transformed, taking on the burden of family, her family plantation, hunger and humiliation. She keeps saying "Tomorrow is another day" to survive each day. After many years, and on seeing how broken her love is at the death of his wife, she realizes that she had ruined her marriage and her happiness for him, she returns home to lead a new life. But surprise, her husband is packed to leave her, and when she says she has changed says, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." It ends with the same thoughts of, "I won't think about it now.After all... tomorrow is another day."

There are many more, but these are the top three on my chart at the moment. Cheers!

Friend or Foe

I was on my way home yesterday, the roads as usual were pretty dark, understandably as it was about 7:00 in the evening, and goes without saying, the streetlamps were not working. People were few, but as has become common of late, there was a pack of dogs on the road side. Stray dogs are nothing new, they have always been around us, but till some time ago, these dogs used to roam alone, timid, and tail wagging with such a fervour that I used to wonder how it could possibly still be stuck on to it's body.

Coming back to the dogs, There must have been at least six dogs, hanging out like the best buddies in the world, in all possible colours and sizes. And while I was trying to count and not lose my balance at the same time, the dogs started fighting, turned suddenly wild and pounced on me. Maybe pounced is a big term, cos thank God, I did not fall down, drop my bike or anything remotely serious. What did happen was that while I was wondering whether I should be applying the brake, or honk my horn, or simply fall down, sub consciously pressed on the horn which had the needed effect of frightening the dogs away. The only other man on the road started running, and the dogs took interest on him, and I saw him run for his life, dogs on trail.

Where did all these dogs come from? They are not someone's pet. No one cares for them. How do they survive? They survive by sticking together, their wolf lineage still clinging on after generation and generations. I am reminded of the hue and cry that followed when many years ago there arose the issue of stray dogs and the menace, and the stand taken by Manekha Gandhi which made her very popular. While one side demanded that the dog population was growing at an alarming rate, what it would lead to and what had to be done; the other side portrayed the tail wagging dog and the watery eyes, and this side took strength. Anyone who sided with controlling the issue was cried upon as a murderer, or less - a beast. This did have its effect in the years to come, instances where such dogs had turned wild and harmed the public. Particularly standing out in my mind is the news of a months old baby killed in the sight of its mother, from its very home, by a pack of stray dogs which had turned unruly at the sight of helplessness.

Our streets even otherwise is not fit for walking. The roads have so many holes in them, that one cannot go for a casual stroll, to enjoy the breeze. One needs to be on the alert all the time to make sure that in avoiding a speeding bike, one falls into man holes, or in our case steps on a sleeping dog and faces the after math. But then, proud dog owners themselves help mess up the roads. Even those who never take their dogs out walking take them out when its time to lock them up for the night, afraid they'd have to clean up the mess they would make in their compound.

I have nothing against dogs. Though I favour cats to dogs, I have had dogs when I grew up, and I know what it is to have one, and to be loved with such unquestioned affection and adoration and loyalty. These qualities which we see so rarely in anyone else, does touch our hearts. But in pitying them, I am not sure we are doing them much good either. So often they end up hit by vehicles, or sick, or so hungry its all skin and bones and just waiting to die.

Dogs have always been man's best friend, sticking closer than a brother, never judging, never leaving his side. I was once told a real incident which made me see what is means when they say 'As loyal as a dog.' A man had told his dog to wait for him, and that he would be back soon. But he met with an accident and died, and the dog kept waiting for its master, listening to no one, eating nothing, just waiting for it's master's voice. I am told this is a true story, and that it happened in London, or somewhere else. Each time I used to think of it, I cried.

But what happens when they join together, not knowing that man is a friend? Most of these strays have never known close human companionship, and look on us as a threat. We cannot solve all evil in the world, but as mere mortals, maybe its time we decide what is more important!

A Letter From Hell

Came across this beautiful, heart touching story from a Christian magazine and wanted to share it immediately...

One evening Louise fell asleep and had a very fitful dream. She dreamed that someone in Hell wrote a letter to her; it was to be hand-delivered. The Messenger passed between the lakes of burning fire and brimstone that occupy Hell, and
found his way to the door leading to the outside world.

Louise dreamed that the Messenger walked to her house, came inside, and gently but firmly woke her up. He handed her the message, saying only that a friend had wrote her from Hell.

Louise, in her dream, with trembling hands took the letter and read;

My friend, I stand in judgement now,
And feel that you’ re to blame somehow.
On earth, I walked with you day by day,
And never did you point the way.

You knew the Lord in Truth and Glory,
But never did you tell the story.
My knowledge then was very dim;
You could have led me safe to Him.

Though we lived together on the earth,
You never told me of The second Birth,
and now I stand this day condemned,
Because you failed to mention Him.

You taught me many things, that’s true,
I called you “Friend” and trusted you,
But I learn now that it’s too late,
You could have kept me from this fate.

We walked by day and talked by night,
And yet you showed me not the Light.
You let me live, and love, and die,
You knew I’ d never live on high.

Yes, I called you a “Friend” in life,
And trusted you through joy and strife.
And yet on coming to the end,
I cannot, now, call you “My Friend”.

From
Marsha

After reading the letter, Louise awoke. The dream was so real in her mind and sweat dripped from her body in pools. She could still smell the acrid smell of brimstone and smoke in the room. As she contemplated The meaning of her dream, she realized that she had failed in her duty to “go out to all the world and preach the Gospel.” As she thought of that, she promised herself that the next day, she would call Marsha and Invite her to church.

The next morning she called Marsha. Marsha’ s husband Bill answered the phone…….

“Yes, Bill, Is Marsha there? ”

“Louise, you don’t know?”

“No, Bill, know what?”

“Marsha died last night in a car accident.”

Are you sharing your faith with your friends that you are with everyday? Will you have friends or family members in Hell, asking why you did not tell them about Jesus? How many can hold you accountable for not telling them about Jesus and His Love. Isn't there someone you were supposed to tell about Jesus today?

Words with Friends

Realized today that it might be time to post in my blog. I was in search of a topic and finally gave up. I have always found that writing came easy. A bit here, a bit there, a little striking out, a little more writing and a bit of cut- copy - paste brings out wonders or at least something readable. But what I do publish, is less than a tenth of what I write.

It is a comfort when words pour out with no need of restrain, and a greater comfort when they are struck out and thrown into the waste paper basket - knowing it has served its purpose. I was told once by a friend, that pouring out ones thoughts onto a piece of paper helps vent emotions better than taking it out on anyone in particular. I agree, it was a very wise advice, but I also find that papers are always not always in arms reach, let alone a pen, and tempers rage out of control in the mean while(I am a Taurus, so I should know). It's the same like punching a pillow 10 times or counting to a hundred when the blood is boiling(But I hear punching a face rather than a pillow is a thousand times more effective :) )

I have a diary where I write only when I am happy. My brother says it beats the actual purpose of maintaining a dairy in the first place, but this diary cheers me up. And every time I am blue, or things go out of control, I read from it and it lifts my spirit. Words carefully chosen has worked magic all through the ages, and is no different for me.

And when this monologue doesn't work, of course there is no better rainbow in the sky than talking to a friend. I have been blessed with some really awesome friends who share my everything.

There are times when I go to where the whole world seems to be going for- Log into face book, and its like a diary of what all your friends have been doing all the time you were offline. Who is going where, who is dating who, who got dumped, who got a new job... the list goes on. It's great knowing you are all still together, knowing all that's happening even though you are miles apart. And with the mobile web, this is much more convenient. We always hear of how in the old ages, friends stayed in touch even though they never see each other for years on end? And how now friends can be together online 24/7 and also see through the web. Makes me wonder if we should really be complaining how fast technology is evolving and how it is affecting the people. Isn't it truly ironical?

Good Friday and Easter

Come Good Friday, and the wishes start pouring in. Half a dozen well meaning friends, call and text, some apologizing for not being able to wish early in the day. And all of them are taken aback, when I say it's not a day of celebration, and that it is in reality, a day of mourning. Then they all ask the same thing - Why is it called Good Friday then? I try to shorten the story as much as possible and thankfully almost all of them know Adam n Eve :) and end with Easter, the real day for celebration.

Just as Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Christ, Easter is the day to recall His death, and resurrection to save all mankind. Along with the seriousness of the whole matter, we have Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny. Santa, with his bottomless bag of gifts and sleigh rides,and Easter with the Easter Bunny, with his basket full of beautifully colored eggs are imaginary people who add fun to the festive.

It's Easter today, and it's a joyous wishing time again, Happy blessed Easter...

Day of the election

It's election day today, and like everyother citizen in TamilNadu, I am wondering whom to vote for. Everywhere I go, the buzzing term - Elections. Most of the ones I move with, are the first time, or second time voters, and the excitement is more over the mark on index finger, rather than actually voting people to power. And ofcourse, it's a declarded holiday, which is the actual cause of the festive mood all around. On the other hand, there is a more matured crowd, that talk about the history, and talk in depth, as to why one shouldn't come to power, and why one should.

There was a certain something which I am sure we all felt, when in Social Science class they said, "You are the future citizens of India. The power to change the country is in your hands." The time has come, we are the citizens of India, and I realize what generations of people have learn through the ages - At the end of the day, we vote, not for the people whom we want to hold the power, but for the people who we believe can cause the lesser evil!

Scribble Pad!

I was writing in my diary the other day, and out of the blue, realized I had a blog somewhere. And I started thinking (as I do ever so often) that I must take blogging more seriously. But with so many social apps to choose from, blogging took to the backseat.

I started this blog when I was in Coimbatore, for no other reason, but that it was cool to own a blog, and jot down my thoughts, and follow and have followers. My whole family got into this trend, and now, not a single post from any of us in a long while.

I love Face book, how can anyone not love it? I got a message in FB from a long lost friend today. Set me thinking. She was the one who told me about snakes taking photos, lol. There was this story going about (I must have been in my IInd std then) that a snake was sighted in the restroom, and all of us were afraid to go anywhere near it. My friend told me not to go there, as the snake had already taken a girl's photo and just waiting to strike. She said even after so many years the snake will have the photo, recall and bite her when it sees her again. Ha ha.

Brings up more memories. Of another friend who said she went to Ooty, and the mist settled on them all, and inside was the most beautiful room she had ever seen, such luxury, and windows and all palace like. And a group of us sitting around her wide eyed, and me coming home and saying I want to go to Ooty too. :p

Now I know that snakes don't take photos, and that there are no rooms inside mists, but my wise friends might tell u that I didn't learn much other than for that. I was in Ooty a couple of months back, and I know first hand what mists feel like. Three heavenly days, away from the hustle and bustle of life, and work, and reports and deadlines. As the day of the vacation was close by, I couldn't wait to leave, and on day two, I remember saying I could stay here for ever, but at the end of the third day, I couldn't wait to come back. Home, back to my messy room, and to office, to my messy table.

Three years back I left home eagerly for Coimbatore, waving hurriedly while mama stood there fighting tears and Papa waved cheerfully. But God willed it otherwise. He meant me to be away from home just two years, and placed me back home, in a company just three minutes from my home. I wanted to fight all fate some two years back, saying I was meant to live in the city, like all my friends, but finally gave up. And times changed and I realize, it just takes time to start loving what u have. The very friends I had envied, envy back, cos I get to stay at home, all comfy.

The last time my bro was going back to Chennai, after his Christmas hols, we were waving to him, and as his bus turned the corner, I squeezed my mama's hands,and said without thinking, "I am so glad it's not me who's leaving home now" and mama squeezed my hand, and I know just what she was thinking, "I told u so."