Tag Archives: love
Writing 201: Trust- Day 3 is here — and so are questions of trust, acrostics, and internal rhymes.
Love, trust, compassion
Synonymous with friendship
True friends are a bliss
Daily Prompt- For Posterity- Your blog just became a viral sensation. What’s the one post you’d like new readers to see and remember you by? Write that post.
Wow! That’s a good news. I would like my new readers to read and remember me by the following post.
PLEA OF A CHILD
I am born innocent, full of love and peace.
I am born neither Hindu, Muslim, Christian nor Sikh, Jain or Buddhist.
You brand me with a label of religion without me knowing what a religion is.
Instead of teaching me love, friendship, compassion and compatibility, you teach me to hate people of other religions.
You teach me to hate people of other religion, ideology , colour, caste and creed.
I request all the teachers, parents and elder person, please stop teaching me anything.
There will be differences between us as no two people can think alike but we will manage.
We will play, fight and make up if we are not taught to carry on fights on the basis of ego and arrogance.
If you stop fighting with each other and start living in peace and harmony we will automatically learn that.
They clamour and fight, they doubt and despair, they know no end
to their wrangling.
Let your life come amongst them like a flame of light, my
child, unflickering and pure, and delight them into silence.
They are cruel in their greed and their envy, their words are like
hidden knives thirsting for blood.
Go and stand amidst their scowling hearts, my child, and let
your gentle eyes fall upon them like the forgiving peace of the
evening over the strife of the day.
Let them see your face, my child, and thus know the meaning
of all things; let them love you and thus love each other.
Come and take your seat in the bosom of the limitless, my
child. At sunrise open and raise your heart like a blossoming
flower, and at sunset bend your head and in silence complete the
worship of the day.
I can’t resist posting these photos .
Long sessions of meditations, satsang( company of pious people seeking truth) and introspection made me think that all my inner conflicts have vanished , I have learned to control my anger, and peace and calmness dawned on me.
I accepted that God has given us so many ups and downs in life to make us tough.
I realized that all religions teach same virtues love, compassion, kindness, harmony and compatibility and only some intolerant of follower spread hate and disturbance for their personal gain and power.
I understood completely that anger and greed are the biggest enemies and empathy and forgiveness are our biggest friend and liberate us.
But…when I read about rapists, terrorists and people who commit heinous crimes, through acid on others, oppress weak and poor, all thoughts of forgiveness evaporated, I wished I could make them stand in a line and shoot them, some people don’t deserve to live.
The first shower of the season made me nostalgic, I went out to get some fun and drench as I did in the childhood.
My neighbors, hearing me sneezing hard poured advises, like what should I do and what should I take.
Mrs. Ayer brought black pepper Rasam, a good cure for cold she informed while Mrs. Gupta was ready with ginger tea and did not rest until they have made me change my wet clothes and wrapped me with the blanket.
They started telling each other all sorts of stories about how a simple cold can cause pneumonia or some other dangerous disease if not treated properly and one even recited how her distant relative died after suffering from a simple looking cough and cold.
Between all this hullabaloo one things became clear that everyone is a doctor of some sort and my neighbors, my true friends, loved and cared for me and I, a 70 years old,was not a lonely and abandoned person in this world.
Tell us about your favorite childhood meal — the one that was always a treat, that meant “celebration,” or that comforted you and has deep roots in your memory.
Free free to focus on any aspect of the meal, from the food you ate to the people who were there to the event it marked.
You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.
– Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird
The first though that comes with the childhood meals is food cooked by my mother. She was an excellent cook. She tried to learn new dishes to perfection to make us happy and stick to home food. Sweets, snacks, even simple food such as rice and dal made by her were delicious.
There are so many festivals in India and every festive meal has to be different according to season, availability of vegetables and fruits at that time. The best part in any festival was the arrival of my mausi(mother’s sister) with her three children. There was not much difference in our age so we were like friends.
Mausi will relieve my mother from cooking that day and ask us our favorite item and cook. She was a total contrast to my mother. Mother was loving, caring but strict and mausi was fun loving, cracking jokes and made us laugh all the time. She could not say harsh words to anyone.Our cousins were like her. Whole day we will sing, dance, play games, we really use to have great time.
I have not written anything about food because the fun we had in spending time together was greater than any delicacy of the world. What was cooked was of no importance to us at that age because whatever mausi cooked was heavenly anyway. Still what remembrance of that time still lingers with me is Suzy Halwa (Semolina Porridge) made with pure ghee flavored with elaichi decorated with lots of dry fruits which she called MohanBhog (Sweet made for Lord Krishna) was really great. I think, she made it with full attention with lots of love and care for us children was the secret of its heavenly taste.
More than the taste of food time spent with our relatives lingers on in my mind.
Sometimes children ask some questions in all their innocence, you find very difficult to answer.
When my little friends, who gather in the evening to hear a story, asked how they came on the earth, I fumbled for an answer as they were too small to tell the truth.
I told them that when parents promise to God that they will not fight and love and take care of a child only then God gives them a child.
‘If parents fight with each other god will not give them a child?’ one of them asked.
Another one interrupted ‘ then how come my neighbor has four children even though they fight all the time?’