Beautiful lines....from various sources - 1

I recently read a novel called "The Awakening" by Kate Chopin. Its a very old novel with a lady in her early 20's as the central character, who is rebellious and wants to break away from the American traditions of the late 1800s. This book was last copy righted in 1899. I like to read such old novels because when I read them, I feel as if I am travelling to that era with the novel's characters. A good lot of such e-books (downloadable pdfs) whose copyrights have not been renewed since a very long time has been digitized by google and is available on books.google.com.
Following are some fantastic lines or qoutes that I came across while reading the novel:

1. He fell in love, as men are in habit of doing, and pressed his suit with earnestness and an ardor, which left nothing to be desired.

2. I was a little unthinking child in those days, just following a misleading impulse without question.
     [This is when Mrs Pontellier (the central character) is thinking about her childhood days.]

3. ..when life appeared to her a grotesque pandemonium and humanity like worms struggling blindly towards inevitable annihilation.

4. She felt somewhat like a woman who in a moment of passion is betrayed into an act of infidelity, and realizes the significance of the act without being wholly awakened from its glamour.
    [Perfect explaination of a woman who has just fallen for something against the social law but enjoying it at the same time.]

5. She looked into their faces with hungry eyes that could be satisfied with looking.
   [The line is self explanatory!]

6. All along the journey homeward their presence lingered with her like the memory of a delicious song.

    [Fantastic comparison or illustration!]

7. “In some way you seem to me like a child Edna. You seem to act without a certain amount of reflection which is necessary in life.”

I am now searching for another fantastic novel by Kate Chopin!

The Kissing Bridge..

Guys, this is a beautiful short story, I read it in a mail from one of my friends.
Read it in one go, and "concentrate" on the last part :)

I wondered how to name this short story and Kissing Bridge was the only thing that came to mind. This is a real life story, from my own life. (Yes, I do intend to hang on to my wonderful husband.)

- Oh come on… I sighed.

- No, you come on! My husband was already a few steps on the bridge.

My feet were killing me. Really. We had taken a cheap trip to Rome, Italy, for three days. We love city holidays and love to walk as much as we can to see as much as we can.

Only this time my feet were telling me they had seen quite enough for the day, thankyouverymuch. All I wanted to do was to flop on a cafeteria chair and ask the waiter to bring me the list. And there my husband was at it again - striding eagerly toward the opposite shore. Crossing the river Tiber. Again. This must have been bridge number seven. When ever he saw a bridge, over he went.


I mean Tiber is no great sight. It just flows there way below the street level (well, at least now it was well below the embankment), there are no restaurants overlooking the river, and quite frankly I had seen the plastic bags and other garbage hanging from the tree branches hanging low over the river - probably brought there by some flood - and from the looks of them most of the garbage had been there for ever. No one seemed to be interested in cleaning them away. Rome wasn´t the cleanest of places…

Well, it didn´t seem to stop my husbands enthusiasm to cross the river. So I just had to follow if I did not want to remain standing there. Tiredly I walked after him, holding my umbrella (it was spring so there were occasional showers). After a while he stopped and turned to wait for me. When I got to where he was standing, he gave me a kiss, much to the amusement of the passers-by.

- Why do you want to go over all these bridges? I asked.

In answer he kissed me again.

- I asked you why…

Another kiss.

- Why…

A kiss again.

And then I got it.

We had been together since we were eighteen - over twenty years already. And almost at the very beginning had started a habit our friends thought rather amusing. Neither one of us remembers anymore why we started it. But in short: when ever we walk over a bridge, in the middle of it we give each other a little kiss. We called it "bridge kiss", of course.

My husband was grinning like a little boy.

- I like this city! he said, - Lots of good kissing bridges around! Look! There´s one more down the river!

I looked. Yes. A new bridge, again.

- Lets go! He waved his hand and turned to continue walking.

And this time my feet felt light as feathers when I headed for the next kissing bridge.



Sometimes we are so concentrated on staring at our own toes we don´t pay attention to the wonderful romantic gestures our spouses offer to us. Especially if we are very tired it can be easy for those little gestures to go unnoticed. And yet your spouse is doing those little extra things to bring a little joy and relief in your day.

You might consider this little exercise: for one whole day pay attention to all the little things your significant other does to you to make your life a bit easier. It can be as simple as buttering your bread at breakfast table. Or sending you that little message to your cell phone. Giving you a hug. Opening the door for you. There are so many little things we don´t pay attention to even though we should.

So pay attention - and then let your special someone know you noticed - and appreciate. When we start paying attention to the good thing in our spouses, suddenly the good things are everywhere. It´s just a matter of perspective...

A Drop of Rain.....

I would like to be a drop of rain,

Full of love, and least pain

Would fall on you,

Starting from forehead,

Through the eyes,

To the cheek rose bed,

From your eyes,

Would steal all dreams,

Halt at your lips,

Silence all the screams,

Moving to the throat,

Would steal the songs unsung,

Then would race down to heart,

On the wall of which, my picture is hung,

Would take my time,

And go round the belly,

To steal the sweetness,

Of residing sweet jelly,

Then as if satisfied,

Not really, to the fullest,

Would wonder along your lavishing curves,

Reach to the feet, would take rest,

And then as you walk on,

Will go to my life’s end,

Absorbed by the mother earth,

With the soul left to suspend....

Time to make up.....

The game lost,
Still pinches my brain,
Rising adrenaline,
Full fledge in veins,
Yes its like, battle,
A battle lost,
Had to be won,
At any cost,
Reasons are many,
Excuses even more,
Like hunters brooding over,
The escaped wild boar,
Lots of books say,
Learn from the mistake,
But they never know,
What is at stake,
They say failure,
Is the best teacher,
Who will explain them,
Its for the class richer,
You miss your shot,
You lose your life,
We are those who live,
On the edge of knife,
The fire within,
Should never extinguish,
Or no human,
Is ever distinguished,
That’s all we learn,
From the battle lost,
So how do we compensate,
And at what cost?
So, my colleagues,
Please wake up,
Rise on your feet,
Its time to make up! (For your loss)

Coincidence

It was a rainy,

Cold, evening,

Was trying to match with him,

My thought tuning,

At one point of time,

Our tuning matched exact,

His thought was, as mine,

On our bike, we were on the track,

Speedometer showed,

Speed of bike, above par,

Which, went to zero,

At the door of heavenly bar,

With dry hearts,

And clothes drenched,

We stepped in the bar,

Beer to be quenched,

We sat on a table,

Lighted a cigar,

A face known long back,

Appeared at a distance far,

Smoke in the room,

Made my vision hazy,

Two mugs of beer down,

Making my mind lazy,

The face came,

Closer to me,

My heart pounded, thought,

“This was to be”,

Eyes told my mind,

That it was her,

Movement inside my heart,

Making my body stiffer,

Looking in my eyes,

She gave me a smile.

I got the message,

She wished to, talk for a while,

But all these years,

Living life alone,

Had made my heart,

Dead, hard as a stone,

She looked at me,

Said “hi” twice,

And my mind,

Then broke the ice,

Wit my ears, ignoring the sound,

I turned my face around,

‘Don’t do that’,

My friend said…

And I told him,

“Its time to move ahead”

-- Yodhey

When I Was Born

At the time when I was born,
I had no friends, no enemies,
Didn’t have any plans,
Nor had any memories,
All that I had was,
Empty space in my mind,
Didn’t know what it was,
To be cruel, to be kind,
I didn’t know what it was,
To be happy, or in pain,
Wasn’t even aware,
Of what was Loss, or gain,
It was a pleasant, numb,
Shapeless, flawless existence,
But as I grew up,
It lost its persistence,
More and more definitions,
Were added to my mind,
And the pure truth,
Became harder to find,
Differentiation became,
The basis of perceptions,
There were rules, and more rules,
But with exceptions,
The magnitude of complexity,
Went higher and higher,
The purpose of existence,
Flew higher and higher,



To be Continued................

India Shining....Really?

A few days back, I had some work with my girlfriend. When in working hours, I generally don’t prefer to enter her office and rather prefer to discuss any sort of work or talk with her outside her office. I was waiting for her outside her office, sitting in my bike by the road side. I saw a gang of four street children coming from the opposite end of the road towards my end of the road. They seemed to be beggars. Or may be they were those children who might have run away from their homes or may be their parents must have been beggars. All said and done, they looked like beggars and none of them might have been older than 10 years of age. As they walking towards me I could see them walking and running in gangs of two each. They were busy in playing with each other, hitting and playing with their hands, running around carelessly. But as they came nearer, I could see that they were actually fighting with each other. When they came and stopped besides me, I could make out from their facial looks that they were a pair of brothers fighting other pair of brothers. They were abusing each other loudly and carelessly. The younger brother of one group was trying to pick a fight with the younger brother of the other group and elder was doing the same with the elder. Sort of systematic fight. Isn’t it? I ignored them and called on my girlfriend’s cell phone so that she could come out as early as possible. As they were loudly abusing each other, I could not ignore them for a longer period of time and as I look towards them, one of the elder brothers, was holding an iron rod in his hand and his opponent was holding a big stone in his hand! The younger brothers had moved away and were holding each other’s collars. The boy with iron rod in his hand was also holding a white ball of cloth in his other hand. I could make out from the way they were carelessly abusing each other and trying to fight each other, that the cloth ball in the boy’s hand could have been nothing else but what these street children used as drug to get a kick(nasha). It was a cloth ball dipped in what they called white ink, which when deeply inhaled would give a kick! I knew this because one of my aunt’s was a social worker who handled the street children projects. May be they were fighting for that piece of dripped cloth. It was a sort of war between brothers. The boy with the stone in his hand was threatening the one with rod in hand, “My Stone is more powerful than your rod. I will hit this on your head and you will die you sick bastard!”The other one replied, “Ever seen my dad in our gully roaming with this rod? I saw him stabbing a person with this one! If I stab you with this rod, it blood will come out your stomach like water! And you will die you motherfucker!”“Oy!” shouted the one with stone in his hand and lunged in anger towards the one with rod. I caught hold of his hand, snatched the stone from his hand and threw it away just at the right time or else he would have broken the skull of the other boy. I shouted at them, “Hey you dogs? Don’t you have home? Why do you fight? Don’t fight here! Go away!” But they didn’t seem to listen to me. The other boy was trying to hit the boy now unarmed with his rod but the unarmed boy managed to escape his attack. It was lethal. The younger generation was fighting bare handed at the far end. I could not find a way to stop them except for yelling at them. But I felt embarrassed to stop them or beat them up as they were not bothered about whoever was seeing them. But the situation was such that one might have killed, or at least injured the other one badly.As I looked around, I saw no one was bothered about this. Some passers by shouted at them, “Oy don’t fight here you dogs! Rascals! Get lost” But when they wouldn’t listen to them, they were on their way. I saw a few people enjoying the scene! They were laughing at these children! For a moment I felt like shouting at them but then I knew I was no Sunny Deol to yell at these people. After all even I was not able to stop them. What was I doing to stop them? Nothing. But atleast I was not enjoying the situation. Then, suddenly the gatekeepers of two adjoining office complexes came out and started beating those boys. They beat them ruthlessly with their hands. The boy with rod in his hand tried to hit one of the gatekeepers but the gatekeeper was strong enough to sntach it away from his hands. The other boy started crying and abusing the gatekeepers. The one who tried to attack a gatekeeper with his rod seemed to have no impact of beating and was constantly abusing the person beating him up. This showed that he was on a high(Nasha). Well, finally the gatekeepers were successful in driving all the four boys away from that place. I took the parcel from my girlfriend and drove back to my office on my bike. On my way back, I saw the same boys sharing a few pizza pieces outside pizza hut restaurant. They were sitting near the dustbin. I came back to my office and I talked to myself for a minute or two in solitude. Was this the future of India? And we being the present of India, what have we been doing all these years? Is people’s skin so fat that nothing penetrates it? Can’t other people feel the same as I felt? Everyone has his or her problems in life but this was striking. One innocent child was out to kill other innocent child! I am not exaggerating this incident but atleast I could make out one thing. That is, what it means to be poor. That day, I didn’t see two beggars or street children fighting, but I saw two innocent children, inspired by their on parents, trying to take each other’s lives. Even their parents can’t be blamed because they also must have grown up in a similar environment. So, it is a vicious circle. It’s a trend. It goes on. But it needs a breakthrough.
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