Saturday, May 24, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
parvati
The Cabuliwallah
Say this, he put his hand inside his big loose robe, and brought out a small and dirty piece of paper.Unfolding it with great care, he smoothed it out with both hands on my table. It bore the impression of little hand. Not a photograph. Not a drawing. Merely the impression of an ink_smeared hand laid flat on the paper. This touch of the hand of his own little daugter he had carried always next to his heart, as he had come year after year to Calcutta to sell his wares in the streets.
Tears came to my eyes. I forgot that he was a poor Cabuliwallah fruit
-seller, while I was_but no, what was I more than he? He also was a father.
That impression of the hand of his little Parvati in her distant mountain home reminded me of my own little Mini.
Viswa kavi...Sri Rabindranath Tagore.
Say this, he put his hand inside his big loose robe, and brought out a small and dirty piece of paper.Unfolding it with great care, he smoothed it out with both hands on my table. It bore the impression of little hand. Not a photograph. Not a drawing. Merely the impression of an ink_smeared hand laid flat on the paper. This touch of the hand of his own little daugter he had carried always next to his heart, as he had come year after year to Calcutta to sell his wares in the streets.
Tears came to my eyes. I forgot that he was a poor Cabuliwallah fruit
-seller, while I was_but no, what was I more than he? He also was a father.
That impression of the hand of his little Parvati in her distant mountain home reminded me of my own little Mini.
Viswa kavi...Sri Rabindranath Tagore.
ratan
The post master
When he got in and the boat was under way, and the rain_swollen river, like a stream of tears welling up from the earth, swirled and sobbed at her bows, then he felt a sort of pain at heart; the grief_stricken face of a village girl seemed to represent for him the great unspoken pervading grief of Mother Earth herself. At one time he had an impulse to go back and bring away along with him that lonesome waif, forsaken of the world. But the wind had just filled the sails, the boat had got well into the middle of the wind of the turbulent current, and already the village was left behind, and its outlying burning ground came in sight.
So the traveller, borne on the breast of the swift flowing river, consoled himself with philosophical reflections on the numberless meetings and partings going on in the world_on death, the great parting, from which none returns.
But Ratan had no philosophy. She was wandering about the post office in a flood of tears. It may be that she had still a lurking hope in some corner of heart that her Dada would return, and that is why she could not tear herself away. Alas for the foolish human heart.
Viswa kavi...Sri Rabindranath Tagore.
When he got in and the boat was under way, and the rain_swollen river, like a stream of tears welling up from the earth, swirled and sobbed at her bows, then he felt a sort of pain at heart; the grief_stricken face of a village girl seemed to represent for him the great unspoken pervading grief of Mother Earth herself. At one time he had an impulse to go back and bring away along with him that lonesome waif, forsaken of the world. But the wind had just filled the sails, the boat had got well into the middle of the wind of the turbulent current, and already the village was left behind, and its outlying burning ground came in sight.
So the traveller, borne on the breast of the swift flowing river, consoled himself with philosophical reflections on the numberless meetings and partings going on in the world_on death, the great parting, from which none returns.
But Ratan had no philosophy. She was wandering about the post office in a flood of tears. It may be that she had still a lurking hope in some corner of heart that her Dada would return, and that is why she could not tear herself away. Alas for the foolish human heart.
Viswa kavi...Sri Rabindranath Tagore.
గులేరి_manek
Guleri and Manek
" I will come with you a part of the way," said Manek.
Guleri was happy as they set out. Under her dupatta she hid Manek's flute.
After the village of Khajapur, the road descended steeply to Chamba. There Guleri took out the flute from beneath the dupatta and gave it to Manek. She took Manek's hand in hers and said "Come now, play your flute." But Manek, lost in thought, paid no heed. "Why don't you play your flute?" asked Guleri, coaxingly. Manek looked at her sadly. Then, putting the flute to his lips, he blew a strange anguished wail of sound.
"Guleri, do not go away," he begged her. "I asked you again, do not go this time." he handed her back the flute, unable to continue.
"But why?" she asked. "You come over on the day of the fair and we will return together. I promise you, I will not stay behind."
Manek didnot ask her again.
"It seems to me as if you had passed the blue bell wood. You do not hear anything that I say."
"You are right, Guleri. I cannot hear any thing that you are saying to me," replied Manek with a deep sigh.
Both of them looked at each other. Neither understood the other's thoughts.
"I will go now. you had better return home. You have come a long way," said Guleri gently.
"You have walked all this distance. Better get on the mare," replied Manek.
"Here take your flute."
"You take it with you."
"Will you come and play it on the day of the fair?"asked Guleri with a smile. The Sun shone in her eyes. Manek turned his face away. Guleri perplexed, shrugged her shoulders and took the road to Chamba. Manek returned to his home.
Amrita Pritam.
" I will come with you a part of the way," said Manek.
Guleri was happy as they set out. Under her dupatta she hid Manek's flute.
After the village of Khajapur, the road descended steeply to Chamba. There Guleri took out the flute from beneath the dupatta and gave it to Manek. She took Manek's hand in hers and said "Come now, play your flute." But Manek, lost in thought, paid no heed. "Why don't you play your flute?" asked Guleri, coaxingly. Manek looked at her sadly. Then, putting the flute to his lips, he blew a strange anguished wail of sound.
"Guleri, do not go away," he begged her. "I asked you again, do not go this time." he handed her back the flute, unable to continue.
"But why?" she asked. "You come over on the day of the fair and we will return together. I promise you, I will not stay behind."
Manek didnot ask her again.
"It seems to me as if you had passed the blue bell wood. You do not hear anything that I say."
"You are right, Guleri. I cannot hear any thing that you are saying to me," replied Manek with a deep sigh.
Both of them looked at each other. Neither understood the other's thoughts.
"I will go now. you had better return home. You have come a long way," said Guleri gently.
"You have walked all this distance. Better get on the mare," replied Manek.
"Here take your flute."
"You take it with you."
"Will you come and play it on the day of the fair?"asked Guleri with a smile. The Sun shone in her eyes. Manek turned his face away. Guleri perplexed, shrugged her shoulders and took the road to Chamba. Manek returned to his home.
Amrita Pritam.
subhashini
Subha
When the girl was give the name of Subhashini, who could have guessed that she would prove dumb?
If Subha lacked speech, she didnot lack a pair of large dark eyes, shaded with long lashes; and her lips trembled like a leaf in response to any thought that rose in her mind.
When we express our thought in words, the medium is not found easily. There must be a process of traslation, which is often inexact, and then we fail into error. But black eyes need no translating; the mind itself throws a shadow upon them. In them thought opens or shuts, shines forth; or goes out in darkness, hangs steadfast like the setting moon, or like swift and restless lighting, illumines all quarters of the sky. They who from birth have had no other speech than the trembling of their lips learn a language of the eyes, endless in expression, deep as the sea, clear as the heavens , where in play dawn and sunset, light and shadow. The dumb have a lonley grandeur like Nature's own. Therefore the other children almost dreaded Subha and never played with her. She was silent and companionless as noontide.
In less than ten days every one knew that the bride was dumb ! Atleast, if any one didnot, it was not her fault, for she deceived no one. Her eyes told them everything, though no one understood her. She looked on every hand; she found no speech; she missed the faces, familiar from birth, of those who had understood a dumb girl's language. In her silent heart there sounded an endless, vioceless weeping, which only the Searcher of Hearts could hear.
Viswa kavi...Sri Rabindranath Tagore.
When the girl was give the name of Subhashini, who could have guessed that she would prove dumb?
If Subha lacked speech, she didnot lack a pair of large dark eyes, shaded with long lashes; and her lips trembled like a leaf in response to any thought that rose in her mind.
When we express our thought in words, the medium is not found easily. There must be a process of traslation, which is often inexact, and then we fail into error. But black eyes need no translating; the mind itself throws a shadow upon them. In them thought opens or shuts, shines forth; or goes out in darkness, hangs steadfast like the setting moon, or like swift and restless lighting, illumines all quarters of the sky. They who from birth have had no other speech than the trembling of their lips learn a language of the eyes, endless in expression, deep as the sea, clear as the heavens , where in play dawn and sunset, light and shadow. The dumb have a lonley grandeur like Nature's own. Therefore the other children almost dreaded Subha and never played with her. She was silent and companionless as noontide.
In less than ten days every one knew that the bride was dumb ! Atleast, if any one didnot, it was not her fault, for she deceived no one. Her eyes told them everything, though no one understood her. She looked on every hand; she found no speech; she missed the faces, familiar from birth, of those who had understood a dumb girl's language. In her silent heart there sounded an endless, vioceless weeping, which only the Searcher of Hearts could hear.
Viswa kavi...Sri Rabindranath Tagore.
Monday, May 12, 2008
remainings
యేవేవో ..............................
వదలి .......................................
వెళతావనుకొన్నా...............................!వదలి .......................................
కానీ................................................
నా........................
ఈ..........................
సజీవ స్మ్రతికి.............
నిర్జీవ..........................
ఙ్ఞాపకాలనే...........
మిగిల్చి వెళ్లావ్...................................srinu.
an expressiom of a son towards his mother
my sweet mother
my mother was born in 1965 in Rajasthan, which was the native place of her and her family. At the age of 8 she had studied upto 4th class and gave up her studies. Because there was no sophisticated education in Rajasthan . As she grew old, at the age of 18 years, her parents decided to marry her by giving her to a smart young man , who was my dad . Soonly , after 1 year they got married and decided to settle in Nellore in Andhrapradesh. After 5 years my mother badly suffered with pregnancy . My father immediately arrived her to a famous doctor in Karnataka , who was my father's friend . When the doctor tested , he noticed her nerves were threatened in stamach and the blood is not passing fine to the child in the womb (who was me). The doctor decided to conduct an important operation . It was 5 hours operation where my mother had cried and shouted in the operation room because the pain was very hard, which we can not hope . After the surgery i was born in an emergency ward. After the delivery my mother cannot walk and talk for a month because of weakened nerves . After one month we went Nelllore . At the age of 3 years my mother started to learn me alphabetes and tables. When i was 4 years, she sent me to a primary school. In 4th year i dont no what is wrong and what it right. Because there is no good teacher in that school . Teachers only know how to beat and teach the children. In that age i neglected my studies. Every child afraid of me. In other words, I was DADA of my class. Once I had beat a teacher with my slate and she had a flow of blood on her head, on that my school correspondent had complained on me to my mother. By hearing all words, my mother took me to home and told me that it is bad and aware of what is good and bad. At that time I got nervous and afraid of my mother's reaction. But, she didnot scold me. She knew that how to teach a lesson with love and affection. My mother spent all her life in taking care of me and my studies. So, now I want to bear the love and affection of my mother by becoming a software engineer or a civil servent by givingmy honest services to the poor and needy.......wishing me all the best................................................................Mitesh kumar.P
A 15 years boy
NELLORE-A.P.
my mother was born in 1965 in Rajasthan, which was the native place of her and her family. At the age of 8 she had studied upto 4th class and gave up her studies. Because there was no sophisticated education in Rajasthan . As she grew old, at the age of 18 years, her parents decided to marry her by giving her to a smart young man , who was my dad . Soonly , after 1 year they got married and decided to settle in Nellore in Andhrapradesh. After 5 years my mother badly suffered with pregnancy . My father immediately arrived her to a famous doctor in Karnataka , who was my father's friend . When the doctor tested , he noticed her nerves were threatened in stamach and the blood is not passing fine to the child in the womb (who was me). The doctor decided to conduct an important operation . It was 5 hours operation where my mother had cried and shouted in the operation room because the pain was very hard, which we can not hope . After the surgery i was born in an emergency ward. After the delivery my mother cannot walk and talk for a month because of weakened nerves . After one month we went Nelllore . At the age of 3 years my mother started to learn me alphabetes and tables. When i was 4 years, she sent me to a primary school. In 4th year i dont no what is wrong and what it right. Because there is no good teacher in that school . Teachers only know how to beat and teach the children. In that age i neglected my studies. Every child afraid of me. In other words, I was DADA of my class. Once I had beat a teacher with my slate and she had a flow of blood on her head, on that my school correspondent had complained on me to my mother. By hearing all words, my mother took me to home and told me that it is bad and aware of what is good and bad. At that time I got nervous and afraid of my mother's reaction. But, she didnot scold me. She knew that how to teach a lesson with love and affection. My mother spent all her life in taking care of me and my studies. So, now I want to bear the love and affection of my mother by becoming a software engineer or a civil servent by givingmy honest services to the poor and needy.......wishing me all the best................................................................Mitesh kumar.P
A 15 years boy
NELLORE-A.P.
an expression of a daughter towards her mother
THE GREATEST GIFT OF MY LIFE
WHATS SOMETHING THAT STOPS YOU FROM DOING SOMETHING WRONG ? WHATS SOMETHING THAT MAKES YOU HAVE A KIND HEART ? WHATS THAT SUPER-NATURAL POWER ? HAVE YOU EVER QUESTED IT ? I DON'T KNOW ABOUT WHAT ANYONE THINK IT IS..! BUT, I FEEL IT IS MY MOTHER'S LOVE AND AFFECTION. I THINK THE GREATEST GIFT I EVER HAD IS BEING THE DAUGHTER OF MY MOTHER. WHAT ELSE SHOULD I NEED WHEN I AM MOST COMFORTABLE ? THE BEST AND THE SOFTEST PILLOW IS MY MOTER'S LAP. IF I WERE REALLY GIVEN A WISH I WOULD HAVE WISHED ONLY ONE THING THAT IS TO MAKE MY PARENTS HAPPY. I WAS ALWAYS ENCOURAGED TO DO SOMETHING CREATIVE AND INNOVATIVE THAT CAN SHARPEN MY MIND. PARENTS MAY SCOLD US. BUT, THINK ONCE..! SHOULD WE CORRECT OURSELVES ? THEY ARE DOING IT FOR OUR GOOD. I DON'T THINK THEY SCOLD US SIMPLY WITHOUT A REASON. I THINK THAT THEY HAVE ALREADY EXPERIENCED THE LIFE AHEAD OF US. IT IS RIGHT TO FOLLOW WHAT THEY SAY. AT THE SAME TIME I CAN ALSO EXPRESS MY VIEWS. IF THEY FEEL IT IS RIGHT THEY DEFINITELY ACCEPT IT. ONE OR TWO INCIDENTS CANNOT EXPLAIN WHAT MOTHERS LOVE IS..! I THINK IT IS INEXPRESSIBLE IN ONE OR TWO PAGES. I THINK IT WILL NEED INNUMERABLE PAGES. ON THOSE INNUMERABLE PAGES I WILL NEED THE INK OF LOVE AND AFFECTION TOWARDS THEM IN A PEN OF CARING AND CONSIDERATION. MY MOTHER ALSO LEARNT ME HOW TO TAKE CARE OF NOT ONLY MYSELF BUT ALSO MY SISTERS AND FAMILY. SHE AWOKE THE SPIRIT OF PATRIOTISM IN ME. ONE SUCH EXAMPLE IS SHE LETS ME CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS ALSO THOUGH I AM A HINDU..! I CALL MY FRIENDS AND NEIGHBOURS ON THIS DAY TO CELEBRATE IT. SHE MAKES DELICIOUS RECIEPIES WITH SUFFICIENT NUTRIENTS. SHE TAKES CARE OF MY HEALTH A LOT. I DON'T THINK I CAN TELL MORE AND MORE JUST IN THESE PAPERS BECAUSE IT IS INEXPRESSIBLE. I DON'T KNOW WHAT WORDS TO USE..! I WOULD LIKE TO MAKE MY PARENTS WISH COME TRUE. I WOULD LIKE TO TAKE CARE OF THEM ALL THROUGH MY LIFE. I THINK I SHOULD MAKE THEIR DREAMS COME TRUE..!
LAKSHMI SINDHUJA.G
A 15 YEARS GIRL
NELLORE-A.P.
WHATS SOMETHING THAT STOPS YOU FROM DOING SOMETHING WRONG ? WHATS SOMETHING THAT MAKES YOU HAVE A KIND HEART ? WHATS THAT SUPER-NATURAL POWER ? HAVE YOU EVER QUESTED IT ? I DON'T KNOW ABOUT WHAT ANYONE THINK IT IS..! BUT, I FEEL IT IS MY MOTHER'S LOVE AND AFFECTION. I THINK THE GREATEST GIFT I EVER HAD IS BEING THE DAUGHTER OF MY MOTHER. WHAT ELSE SHOULD I NEED WHEN I AM MOST COMFORTABLE ? THE BEST AND THE SOFTEST PILLOW IS MY MOTER'S LAP. IF I WERE REALLY GIVEN A WISH I WOULD HAVE WISHED ONLY ONE THING THAT IS TO MAKE MY PARENTS HAPPY. I WAS ALWAYS ENCOURAGED TO DO SOMETHING CREATIVE AND INNOVATIVE THAT CAN SHARPEN MY MIND. PARENTS MAY SCOLD US. BUT, THINK ONCE..! SHOULD WE CORRECT OURSELVES ? THEY ARE DOING IT FOR OUR GOOD. I DON'T THINK THEY SCOLD US SIMPLY WITHOUT A REASON. I THINK THAT THEY HAVE ALREADY EXPERIENCED THE LIFE AHEAD OF US. IT IS RIGHT TO FOLLOW WHAT THEY SAY. AT THE SAME TIME I CAN ALSO EXPRESS MY VIEWS. IF THEY FEEL IT IS RIGHT THEY DEFINITELY ACCEPT IT. ONE OR TWO INCIDENTS CANNOT EXPLAIN WHAT MOTHERS LOVE IS..! I THINK IT IS INEXPRESSIBLE IN ONE OR TWO PAGES. I THINK IT WILL NEED INNUMERABLE PAGES. ON THOSE INNUMERABLE PAGES I WILL NEED THE INK OF LOVE AND AFFECTION TOWARDS THEM IN A PEN OF CARING AND CONSIDERATION. MY MOTHER ALSO LEARNT ME HOW TO TAKE CARE OF NOT ONLY MYSELF BUT ALSO MY SISTERS AND FAMILY. SHE AWOKE THE SPIRIT OF PATRIOTISM IN ME. ONE SUCH EXAMPLE IS SHE LETS ME CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS ALSO THOUGH I AM A HINDU..! I CALL MY FRIENDS AND NEIGHBOURS ON THIS DAY TO CELEBRATE IT. SHE MAKES DELICIOUS RECIEPIES WITH SUFFICIENT NUTRIENTS. SHE TAKES CARE OF MY HEALTH A LOT. I DON'T THINK I CAN TELL MORE AND MORE JUST IN THESE PAPERS BECAUSE IT IS INEXPRESSIBLE. I DON'T KNOW WHAT WORDS TO USE..! I WOULD LIKE TO MAKE MY PARENTS WISH COME TRUE. I WOULD LIKE TO TAKE CARE OF THEM ALL THROUGH MY LIFE. I THINK I SHOULD MAKE THEIR DREAMS COME TRUE..!
LAKSHMI SINDHUJA.G
A 15 YEARS GIRL
NELLORE-A.P.
Friday, May 9, 2008
reflection
prathibimbam
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది...! శ్రీను.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది.
ప్రతిబింబం మురిపిస్తుంది...! శ్రీను.
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