Here is a lovely story I came across, A lovely story – Very Very Touching!!! This story tells us something about LOVE & LIFE. How our expectations can be a mismatch if we are not ready to listen and understand.

My husband is S/W Engineer by profession, I love him for his steady nature and I love the warm feeling when I lean against his broad shoulders. Two years of courtship and now, five years into marriage, I would have to admit, that I am getting tired of it. The reasons of me loving him before, has now transformed into the cause of all my restlessness. I am a sentimental woman and extremely sensitive when it comes to a relationship and my feelings. I yearn for the romantic moments, like a little girl yearning for candy. My husband is my complete opposite; his lack of sensitivity, and the inability of bringing romantic moments into our marriage has disheartened me about LOVE.

One day, I finally decided to tell him my decision, that I wanted a divorce. “Why?” he asked, shocked. “I am tired. There are no reasons for everything in the world!” I answered. He kept silent the whole night, seemingly in deep thought. My feeling of disappointment only increased. Here was a man who was not able to even express his predicament, so what else could I expect from him? And finally he asked me: “What can I do to change your mind?” Somebody said it right… It’s hard to change a person’s personality, and I guess, I have started losing faith in him. Looking deep into his eyes I slowly answered: “Here is the question. If you can answer and convince my heart, I will change my mind. Let’s say, I want a flower located on the face of a mountain cliff, and we both are sure that picking the flower will cause your death. Will you do it for me?”

He said: “I will give you your answer tomorrow…. ” My hopes just sank by listening to his response.

I woke up the next morning to find him gone, and saw a piece of paper with his scratchy handwriting underneath a milk glass, on the dining table near the front door, that goes…. My dear, “I would not pick that flower for you, but….please allow me to explain the reasons further….. This first line was already breaking my heart.

I continued reading. “When you use the computer you always mess up the Software programs, and you cry in front of the screen. I have to save my fingers so that I can help to restore the programs.

You always leave the house keys behind, thus I have to save my legs to rush home to open the door for you.

You love traveling but always lose your way in a new city. I have to save my eyes to show you the way.

You always have the cramps whenever your “good friend” approaches every month. I have to save my palms so that I can calm the cramps in your tummy.

You like to stay indoors, and I worry that you will be infected by infantile autism. I have to save my mouth to tell you jokes and stories to cure your boredom.

You always stare at the computer, and that will do nothing good for your eyes. I have to save my eyes so that when we grow old, I can help to clip your nails and help to remove those annoying white hairs. So I can also hold your hand while strolling down the beach, as you enjoy the sunshine and the beautiful sand…and tell you the colour of flowers, just like the colour of the glow on your young face…

Thus, my dear, unless I am sure that there is someone who loves you more than I do… I could not pick that flower yet, and die …”

My tears fell on the letter, and blurred the ink of his handwriting. .. And as I continue reading… “Now, that you have finished reading my answer, and if you are satisfied, please open the front door for I am standing outside bringing your favorite bread and fresh milk…

I rushed to pull open the door, and saw his anxious face, clutching tightly with his hands, the milk bottle and loaf of bread….

Now I am very sure that no one will ever love me as much as he does, and I have decided to leave the flower alone…

That’s LIFE, and LOVE. When one is surrounded by love, the feeling of excitement fades away, and one tends to ignore the true love that lies in between the peace and dullness. Love shows up in all forms; even in very small and cheeky forms.

It has never been a model. It could be the dullest and most boring form … Flowers, and romantic moments are only used and appear on the surface of the relationship. Under all this, the pillar of true love stands… AND THAT’S LIFE

Guys, are we still cribbing

This article reminds me of my dad, we didn’t have he regular dinners like this duo but we did go out on and off and I really miss our conversations and sharing my life with him.

My father had his own way of imparting wisdom. He handed down stylish phrases when I least expected it. They burst forth suddenly and always came as a surprise.

One hot July Saturday morning, when I was a little girl, my dad asked me to join him for lunch. This particular day, it was just the two of us. My mother, also invited, declined the offer for nobler pursuits: a manicure and wash and set at the beauty parlor, where her standing appointment would never be sacrificed for anything as mundane as lunch.

“It looks like it’s just you and me, Missy,” Dad said with a twinkle in his eye, followed by one of his pat remarks. “So, let’s go and raise some hell.”

The restaurant was bustling with people, providing enough background noise to add an air of merriment to our meal. My dad and I parked ourselves in a booth and were handed menus so large they reached over the top of my head and offered a dizzying array of choices.

Over grilled cheese sandwiches and French fries for me and a fat hamburger, charcoal-burned and blood-red for him, my father revealed a most alluring confession: “You see that woman over there?” he pointed to a table a few feet away. I surreptitiously snuck a look. “That’s Marion, the gal who had a crush on me all through high school and into my law school years.”

With that came a wink of an eye to Marion, whom I could hear giggling all the way across the room. I, the budding adolescent, sat on the edge of my seat as he regaled me with this top-secret piece of news.

“But,” my father said, moving his head so close it was practically touching mine, “she couldn’t hold a candle to your mother.”

And so began our luncheon rituals, where we broke rules, recounted anecdotes and shared secrets. Months later, I perused the menu at a different restaurant, this time in Manhattan, twenty minutes from our home. On this particular Saturday, I couldn’t decide what I wanted to eat. My father, realizing my dilemma, summoned the waitress. “Bring us the dessert menu,” he said.

Obligingly, she returned with a small, leather-bound book, edged in gold leaf with a list of desserts that had my mouth watering. Profiteroles, chocolate mousse, chocolate cake and chocolate soufflé were mine for the asking. I felt as though I had entered chocolate heaven.

“But, Daddy, we haven’t even had lunch.”

“Even better,” he winked, that same Marion wink. “When in doubt, eat dessert first!”

“What will Mommy say?”

“It will be our little secret,” he said.

And there we sat on that chilly autumn afternoon in a cozy French restaurant. He, dipping a long silver spoon into a parfait, and I, gorging on layers of chocolate cake oozing raspberry and covered in a white chocolate sauce. I remember wondering if life could get any better than that.

There were to be many more lunches and dinners in our future. I accumulated a wealth of knowledge from our talks, and I was privy to personal insights and private thoughts he loved sharing with only me, mainly because my reactions were always so spontaneous and sincere. I was genuinely interested in everything he had to say, which made me, his audience of one, a perfect dinner companion. Sometimes Mother asked half-teasingly, “Whatever do you two have to talk about?”

My dad also had a reflective side that felt protective and nurturing. He took me seriously, too, by paying credence to my individuality and giving me room for self-expression. As a lawyer, he was accustomed to problem solving. Our meals provided a venue into which I could retreat and unload my worst trepidations or, conversely, share my happiest moments. Without judging, he gently guided me through childhood, adolescence and young adulthood, and served as my one-man support system and guardian of my soul.

Even after I was married and living in Manhattan, Dad and I had a standing weekly dinner date that I came to rely on and treasure. He never once canceled out, despite his busy schedule, teaching me to honor commitment and value the importance of keeping appointments. The only Tuesday we didn’t meet at a restaurant was when I delivered my daughter. That night, Mom, Dad, my husband and I dined together in my hospital room. My father brought the champagne that he had been saving for this occasion.

“Even my new granddaughter can’t get in the way of our Tuesdays.” And there was that wink as we clicked glasses and toasted the birth of Elizabeth.

My father was in his sixties when it abruptly ended. His death brought with it a sense of longing I have never yet been able to relinquish–longing for something that would never be the same again.

Dad died too young and had a lot more tasting left to do, but I revel in the fact that we savored much of life together. We went on for years enjoying each other’s company. After his parting, despite my sadness, I was energized, knowing how lucky I was to have shared the Tuesdays of my life with him and the great life lessons he passed on to me.

I now take my two grandchildren, Andrew and Caroline, out to dinner weekly. They can choose any restaurant they want, as I was privileged to do so many years before them. Recently Andrew sighed, perusing a menu too big for a seven-year-olds eyes. “I don’t know what I want to eat.”

Caroline chimed in, “I can’t make up my mind, either, Grandma.”

My father’s voice came echoing back. “Then, I guess we’ll have to eat dessert first!” I told them.

And they, sitting back in wide-eyed disbelief, broke out in smiles, and “eating dessert first” was exactly what we did.

Take the power to choose what you want to do and do it well.
Take the power to love what you want in life and love it honestly.
Take the power to walk in the forest and be a part of nature.

Take the power to control your own life. No one else can do it for you.
Take the power to make your life happy. This life is yours.

Short but Strong message for all those who take life for granted….go on take charge of your life, don’t let others control your life for you….Live it up, the way you wanna, you only get one chance !!!

We all have our dreams, of becoming a Doctor, an Engineer, Air Hostess, Actress, Dancer, Singer, Painter, Artist, Model, CA, Computer Engineer, and many many other professions which exist. How many of us actually are able to fulfill our dreams, we might even prepare for one fourth of our lives dreaming and working towards our goals, but does fate intend the same for us ? Can we fight against fate and accomplish our goals? Can we fight all odds to make our dreams come true? Do we really have the fire in the belly to fight and work upon the

As a child I wanted to be everything from a doctor, to an air hostess, to a model and a million other professions. But as I crossed my boards and my mind got clearer, I just knew what I wanted to do, I really really wanted to become a Pilot and have a hi flying career, pursued Science ( as much as I hated it !!) got admission at the Juhu Flying Club, cleared my entrance tests, medicals, and completed my ground training as well !!! The week we were to leave for Diu to complete the flying hours, I had a crash landing in my life and just couldn’t go!! I was shattered …… but I guess this was meant to be.

So no matter how much planning we do and go all over pursuing our careers, not all of us actually get their dream careers!! The flip side, a lot of us do too!! So it’s actually good to follow our dreams and aim for the moon but even if we get the stars be satisfied and move on in life and follow another dream!!!

Now your turn to share your dreams and aspirations….

PS: We have introduced ratings here now, so please please even if you don’t comment back (which I genuinely expect you do!), the least you can do it to rate it, to boost my morale !!!

Worth A Read…..

The man slowly looked up. This was a woman clearly accustomed to the finer things of life. Her coat was new. She looked like she had never missed a meal in her life. His first thought was that she wanted to make fun of him, like so many others had done before.

“Leave me alone,” he growled… To his amazement, the woman continued standing. She was smiling — her even white teeth displayed in dazzling rows.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. “No,” he answered sarcastically. “I’ve just come from dining with the President.. Now go away.”

The woman’s smile became even broader.

Suddenly the man felt a gentle hand under his arm. “What are you doing, lady?” the man asked angrily. “I said to leave me alone.

Just then a policeman came up. “Is there any problem, ma’am?” he asked..

“No problem here, officer,” the woman answered. “I’m just trying to get this man to his feet. Will you help me?”

The officer scratched his head. “That’s old Jack. He’s been a fixture around here for a couple of years. What do you want with him?”

“See that cafeteria over there?” she asked. “I’m going to get him something to eat and get him out of the cold for awhile.”

“Are you crazy, lady?” the homeless man resisted. “I don’t want to go in there!” Then he felt strong hands grab his other arm and lift him up.

“Let me go, officer. I didn’t do anything..”

“This is a good deal for you, Jack,” the officer answered. “Don’t blow it.”

Finally, and with some difficulty, the woman and the police officer got Jack into the cafeteria and sat him at a table in a remote corner. It was the middle of the morning, so most of the breakfast crowd had already left and the lunch bunch had not yet arrived.

The Manager strode across the cafeteria and stood by his table. “What’s going on here, officer?” he asked.” What is all this, is this man in trouble?”

“This lady brought this man in here to be fed,” the policeman answered.

“Not in here!” the Manager replied angrily. “Having a person like that here is bad for business.”

Old Jack smiled a toothless grin. “See, lady. I told you so. Now if you’ll let me go. I didn’t want to come here in the first place.”

The woman turned to the cafeteria Manager and smiled. “Sir, are you familiar with Eddy and Associates, the banking firm down the street?”

“Of course I am,” the Manager answered impatiently. “They hold their weekly meetings in one of my banquet rooms.”

“And do you make a goodly amount of money providing food at these weekly meetings?”

“What business is that of yours?”

I, sir, am Penelope Eddy, President and CEO of the company.”

“Oh..”

The woman smiled again.. “I thought that might make a difference.”

She glanced at the cop who was busy stifling a laugh. “Would you like to join us in a cup of coffee and a meal, officer?”

“No thanks, ma’am,” the officer replied. “I’m on duty.”

“Then, perhaps, a cup of coffee to go?”

“Yes, ma’am. That would be very nice.”

The cafeteria manager turned on his heel. “I’ll get your coffee for you right away, officer.”

The officer watched him walk away… “You certainly put him in his place,” he said.

“That was not my intent… Believe it or not, I have a reason for all this.”

She sat down at the table across from her amazed dinner guest. She stared at him intently.

“Jack, do you remember me?”

Old Jack searched her face with his old, rheumy eyes. “I think so — I mean you do look familiar.”

“I’m a little older perhaps,” she said. “Maybe I’ve even filled out more than in my younger days when you worked here, and I came through that very door, cold and hungry.”

“Ma’am?” the officer said questioningly. He couldn’t believe that such a magnificently turned out woman could ever have been hungry.

“I was just out of college,” the woman began. “I had come to the city looking for a job, but I couldn’t find anything. Finally I was down to my last few cents and had been kicked out of my apartment. I walked the streets for days. It was February and I was cold and nearly starving. I saw this place and walked in on the off chance that I could get something to eat.”

Jack lit up with a smile. “Now I remember,” he said. “I was behind the serving counter. You came up and asked me if you could work for something to eat. I said that it was against company policy.”

“I know,” the woman continued. “Then you made me the biggest roast beef sandwich that I had ever seen, gave me a cup of coffee, and told me to go over to a corner table and enjoy it. I was afraid that you would get into trouble. Then, when I looked over and saw you put the price of my food in the cash register, I knew then that everything would be all right.”

“So you started your own business?” Old Jack said.

“I got a job that very afternoon. I worked my way up. Eventually I started my own business that, with the help of God, prospered..” She opened her purse and pulled out a business card. “When you are finished here, I want you to pay a visit to a Mr. Lyons. He’s the Personnel Director of my company. I’ll go talk to him now and I’m certain he’ll find something for you to do around the office.”

She smiled. “I think he might even find the funds to give you a little advance so that you can buy some clothes and get a place to live until you get on your feet. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you.”

There were tears in the old man’s eyes. “How can I ever thank you?” he asked.

“Don’t thank me,” the woman answered. “To God goes the glory. He led me to you.”

Outside the cafeteria, the officer and the woman paused at the entrance before going their separate ways.. “Thank you for your help officer,” she said.

“On the contrary, Ms. Eddy,” he answered. “Thank you. I saw a miracle today, something that I will never forget, And thank you for the coffee.”

i came across this article on my email and thought it was worth sharing with you all !!

Suvendu Roy of Titan Industries shares his inspirational encounter with a rickshaw driver in Mumbai:

Last Sunday, my wife, kid, and I had to travel to Andheri from Bandra. When I waved at a passing auto rickshaw, little did I expect that this ride would be any different. As we set off, my eyes fell on a few
magazines(kept in an aircraft style pouch) behind the driver’s back rest. I looked in front and there was a small TV. The driver had put on the Doordarshan channel.

My wife and I looked at each other with disbelief and amusement. In front of me was a small first-aid box with cotton, dettol and some medicines. This was enough for me to realize that I was in a special vehicle. Then I
looked round again, and discovered more – there was a radio, fire extinguisher, wall clock, calendar, and pictures and symbols of all faiths – from Islam and Christianity to Buddhism, Hinduism and Sikhism. There were also pictures of the heroes of 26/11- Kamte, Salaskar, Karkare and
Unnikrishnan. I realised that not only my vehicle, but also my driver was special.
I started chatting with him and the initial sense of ridicule and disbelief gradually diminished. I gathered that he had been driving an auto rickshaw for the past 8-9 years; he had lost his job when his employer’s plastic company was shut down. He had two school-going
children, and he drove from 8 in the morning till 10 at night. No break unless he was unwell. “Sahab, ghar mein baith ke TV dekh kar kya faida? Do paisa income karega toh future mein kaam aayega.”
We realised that we had come across a man who represents Mumbai – the spirit of work, the spirit of travel and the spirit of excelling in life. I asked him whether he does anything else as I figured that he did not have too much spare time. He said that he goes to an old age home for women in Andheri once a week or whenever he has some extra income, where he donates tooth brushes, toothpastes, soap, hair oil, and other items of daily use. He pointed out to a painted message below the meter that read: “25 per cent discount on metered fare for the
handicapped. Free rides for blind passengers up to Rs. 50.”
My wife and I were struck with awe. The man was a HERO! A hero who deserves all our respect. Our journey came to an end; 45 minutes of a lesson in humility, selflessness, and of a hero-worshiping Mumbai, my temporary home. We disembarked, and all I could do was to pay him a tip that would hardly cover a free ride for a blind man.

I hope, one day, you too have a chance to meet Mr Sandeep Bachhe in his auto rickshaw: MH-02-Z-8508.