their pictures have been painted by our long lost ancestors on the cave walls.their claws were feared even by hynes.They flew each day in different directions unknowing what adventure lay ahead.life is a constant struggle for them.One day I was sitting by the window and noticed a flock of five pigeons sitting on an electric pole.I could make out their dark outline in the distant blue sky.Soon it started raining.Just then an eagle came there.I imagined them to fight.But nothing such happened.They sat there together with their predator as if facing the agony of life waiting for the rain to halt.Soon it stopped raining and the flock of pigeons flew away in one direction.The eagle sat there for some time more.I later thought to myself was i so brave like the eagle.Would I subsided my natural instinct,overcome the struggle.i found i could not answer this.only time can tell.After all time is the master of fate.But i hope when that time comes i too am brave
“Ek Garam chai ki pyalli ho”….yes,this was the song ringing in my head that day.After a hectic day at work and a “yes boss”slogan recited after every two hours what else could one want.So I sat eagerly in the bus waiting for my stop quite immersed in my own thought when I felt a poke and saw it was Renu,my college crush.I just stared at her preety smiling face and her expressions soon turned .She thought I had not recognized her .So like a gentleman I got up and gave her my seat.She asked me out for coffee.Although I had never had coffee I could not refuse this golden opportunity.So gallantly I held the gate while she entered .That was the day i realized that there were 10 types of coffee,different sizes,flatte, cupoocino or god only knows what.So while the waiter recited a long list of never ending flavors I nodded my head patiently.Yes ,that was the day I came to know the a single cup of coffee could cost 300 bucks.So halfheartedly I paid my bill only to realize that those lazy vendors had not even put sugar in the cup!Then I followed Renu and opened a white packet and stirred it while looking at Renu’s gentle face only to realize a few seconds later that I had put salt in my coffee.Yes,It was a 300 Rs cup of coffee with salt that I had to gulp before my sweetheart .After all a poet has well said”Ishq ki raaha mein duub kay jaana hai”.
Abe had always been fascinated by the red riding story .She would spend hours imagining herself as red riding hood and her encounter with the wolf.She would write down these incidents as stories.But they never convinced her and in the end she would just tear out that page and throw it.She wanted to feel the rush of meeting a wolf ,the adventure of knowing the unknown and emerging out as a winner.Even in her dreams she would see herself as a trekker trying to climb the top of a cliff and see the world with her pair of binoculars.She wanted to feel as free as the breeze flying through her hair while in reality her hair were tied in a ponytail as a school rule.She felt a deep connection with her long lost ancestors who had lived in caves.Perhaps, they would have understood her,she felt.For both ,she felt ,lived in caves their only shelter from a cruel and colorless world.While they painted their life on the cave walls at night and hunted in the day.She lived in her own cave and imagined a distant land free from traffic and futile struggles. Similarly like every other day,She sat sulking in her car on the way to school.She was deeply engrossed in herself when she heard a knock on the car window and saw three beggar kids.While her driver tried to shoo them away they peeked inside with determined eyes.Then Abe noticed that these beggar kids were wearing different colored bangles ,odd torn out clothes and while the world was so hostile to them they were always confident.If one car shooed them away they went to the next with same determination .Today Abe saw a different world from their eyes.Yes the struggle she had always imagined was there.But was she that brave ,she asked herself and found the answer was a no.Never again she looked back.For she had discovered that she was missing on a true adventure- the journey of her life-her own path to knowing the unknown.
“Who was that pretty woman who had made every man’s heart skip a beat last night.Dressed in a red gown wearing a golden mask it seemed, an angel had come down on earth.Every head turned in the direction she walked.But who was she?”This seemed to be the topic of discussion of every gossip in town.After all, in the strict catholic city of Rome a beautiful foreigner is not an every day site.But soon this admiration turned hostile when Mary opened a makeup shop by the river. After all, the priests termed this as an offence against the church which preached simple living.And when Mary went to the bartender for a drink this news spread like a wild fire.People started throwing rubbish and garbage on her door and calling her a witch who bewitched men.But Mary was a kind soul.One day she rescued a pup and kept it at home.The dog would bark at people who came there to throw rubbish so people started calling her bloody Mary with the Killer dog.Things turned worse for her business started failing.Then Mary thought of another business idea.She went to the city priest and asked for funds and instead said she would guard the city .So every night she would sit on the boat with her dog and burn red chilies and turmeric.This smell would make her dog howl while she would rowed around the city.This story spread in far away lands and no king ever tried invading the city for the fear of the witch who protected the city.Many believe that even today this city is blessed for often one can hear the dog howling in cold nights by the river.
birthdays come and go leaving behind sweet memories for most kids.It a day when they rule hearts and every wish is for their parents a commandment.Yes that was how Janet , had always imagined birthdays to be. Peeping out of the orphanage window she would look at the distant water-park swings and wonder what she would have been gifted.”Maybe dresses, purses, high heel shoes.Perhaps her mother would have baked a cake and her father lit it with candles.Maybe at dinner it would have been a feast with her favorite dishes laid on the table.Grapes fruit punches served to kids while parents drank wine.Soft music in the distant air .How wonderful it would have been “,she thought and closed her eyes and a tiny tear drop came from her eyes.Just then she felt a poke and opened her eyes.It was mother superior she hugged her tightly .then all other children came forward and stood in the line.Dressed in coats and hair tied neatly they marched forward for the school bus.but today the bus did not go to school instead today they went for a picnic in the park.Mother superior had planned this special day for Janet .while the other kids had too knew about this surprise.They gifted Janet with what they had.Little Jose gave her bright colored paper pins ,while Marty gave her the piece of cheese he had saved .Janet felt really special that day and later at night thanked god for this family she had found in the orphanage.It was autumn season again ,but this time Janet looked out of the window with a smile.It was her birthday again,Janet was now 28.While Marty sat near the fireplace ,she carefully took out the cake from the oven and placed it on the dinner table.Just then her daughter rushed in with leaves in her hands and cried”Look Maa,I painted these for you”,Janet could not help but smile.
Sarah often closed her eyes and wished she could rewrite the past. She often wished she could correct her mistakes like she did when in school. Life had been so much simpler then. A notebook and a pencil were her treasure and the bicycle gifted by her father was a dream come true. Early morning her father would get up and milk the cow and give it to her to drink. Then Sarah would rush to school on her bicycle. Then came the golden day when she was selected in the state basketball team.
She was so happy that she could feel the air brush by her as she cycled across the bridge and reached home. Her father too was overjoyed yet sad for he would have to let his only daughter leave home. Yet he knew he had to let his daughter go .So halfheartedly he packed her bags. They reached the bridge and while Sarah smiled and waved at her father and welcomed her new life her father stood there and watched the bus go.
Years passed .Sarah traveled the world and often sent her father postcards. Basketball and photography were the passion of her life now. Often in the mornings when the hotel waitress brought her fruit punches or mock-tails she would remember her father and click a picture of herself and post it to him with the city’s name she traveled to. One day she got a letter from the village hospital telling her that her father was very ill.
She left for the village immediately. In the hospital she held her father’s hands and felt she had wronged him for not being there for him .Weeks went by .Often her father would wake up and see her crying. One day he asked her why she was so sad. She replied she felt she was a devil for ignoring her father. Her father smiled and asked her to take out a notebook from the cupboard and read it. Sarah was shocked when she opened it as it contained all the pictures she had sent him. He then told her that she had never traveled alone for he saw the world from her eyes and was always proud of her.Those pictures were not just memories but adventure he had lived and dreams he had seen from her eyes.Never again Sarah felt sad for she knew that the past had made her what she was now.
with every stroke in the clock he ran out of time.being a jockey he knew how every second mattered in a race and how important it was to keep the horse’s strength for the last lapse.yet he had to take the decision to give his horse some water from the well or continue for miles unknowingly.he decided to stop and give his horse the rest it needed and then continued again.Even years later Ram would hesitate drawing the curtains in fear someone would see him and probably make fun of him on recognizing that he was the loser of the world horse racing championship.Yet one day he had no choice but leave his home and visit a vet ,for his loyal and only companion lono, a pug was very ill.Nervously,he camouflaged himself like a common farmer with a straw hat and loose clothes. to avoid the road he crept out of the back door and paddled his boat till he reached the vets farm.he met the vet who told his dog needed overnight supervision.so downheartedly he placed his lono on a stand near the stairs and gazed outside the window.there he saw a beautiful black horse which was quite wild and kicked anyone who came near.the trainer were trying to hold it but it turned ferocious. So ram went near it and tried holding him.but the horse kicked ram also.this seemed like a challenge and ram made up his mind not to loose .so now, more confidently he held the horse by its hurdle and looked into its eyes.somehow ram saw his own reflection in its eyes and for a moment forgot everything and rode the horse.he felt free after a long time.on seeing ram other villagers came and greeted him.some even hugged him.He realized that that people did not care that he had lost but rather that he had lost himself.he realized all these years when he had hid himself from the world , he was actually hiding from himself.
even before a baby lost its milking teeth he was fed with the idea of jihad.there was a fire in his eyes – a fire to destroy and a lust for revenge.he did not wish for toys in Christmas or games but for an AK-45 or perhaps AK-47.The seeds of hatred were grown at birth and nurtured at a tender age.the seeds would grow in to a tree soon to be cut down and instead a photo stuck on the wall with the heading_”In Allah’s Name.”But this was not what Javeda had in mind for her son.She had lost her brothers,her husband to terrorism.So she made up her mind not to loose her son too.So like a shadow lost in the darkness of the night she fled with her son on a horse.She fled far west and did not halt for two days .Getting wild the horse leaped and Javeda fell on the ground.The horse ran away.It was dawn.She could see smoke from a distant sugarcane factory.”I must have come far”She thought.She sat with her son below a tree and looked at the empty milk bottle and wondered how she and her son would survive.Just then an old fakir came to her .She told him her story.He told her he was going for Haj never to return and gave his home keys to her.Years went by.Now Javeda was an independent woman who worked in the sugarcane factory and had a little farm near the house.It was Christmas season again.But this time of year brought smile to her face for the wish of her son was a kit of ball snooker.So in the starry night she sat below the tree near a bonfire and smiled seeing her son trying hard roast the chicken over the fire and felt the keys of her home in her hand and said to herself”Yes the stars above must be smiling and saying god bless in Allah’s name”
It was the magical season again-the season of holidays and no school-the season of enjoying pakoddis while enjoying the rain or maybe an escapade in the wild.Life was different in the hilly terrains and Roby like any other kid in the neighborhood rushed back home on his skating scooter from school and shouted with joy.After all this was the holiday he had been planning for days.He had never seen the sea or sat in a boat.Goa was “the hidden paradise” he wished to discover.Yes,that was how the magazine had described the Goa tour,6days -7 nights-plus night sufari “to unleash your seat trillers”.Roby was so exited that he eagerly waited near the door with the magazine in his hands for his dad’s return.It was dusk when his dad came tired and exhausted after a hard day at the timber mill.He rushed towards his dad and showed him the magazine ad.His father casually denied and went inside. Roby broke into tears and ran .Heart broken ,he decided to leave his home forever and ran into the woods.He ran till it was dark and sat below a tree.Soon he fell asleep .He woke up and found himself wet.It was raining heavily.Suddenly he felt some movement in the darkness and saw green eyes gleaming towards him.He thought it was a mountain cheetah his mother would tell stories about.Scared ,He fainted .It was afternoon when he opened his eyes and saw he was in a boat.His parents had found him fainted in the woods and were taking him to the city’s doctor.Boat ride seemed rather uncomfortable and he felt nauseated .Soon they were in town trying to cross the busy streets with non stopping horns and scooters.He felt rather relieved when the time for return came but uneasy seeing the sight of the boat again. Back home all his friends and relatives visited him while he boosted about his little escapade.After all, he had “unleashed his seat of thrillers” although this time – a little close to home.
life had been a game of dice for mr. X just when he thought he could predict the outcomes of his ventures he lost the game.All his life he had been a busy man,his friends fondly taunted him by saying he is as busy as a bee.He would not even have time to play with his daughter although the apple of his eyes. she spent her childhood near the hostel window with her teddy biting her lips wishing for her dad’s return.She did not wish for high heels or cars which her dad could afford but for a few moments.That day when mr.x realized he had lost every thing in his venture he went and sat on a wooden chair near the bridge in a park.He thought of ending his life.Just then he saw an old orange car whose paint was scratched at places and headlight broken.He somehow felt an association with it.He went and opened the car and sat inside .there he saw a key chain saying ” when you hear the raindrops patter you can either close the window or listen to the sound of life calling.Time witnesses change.You are the master of your soul.” These few line gave him the boost he needed but now he also understood the true importance of things in life….which really mattered
Prince toro wanted to become king but by the law of the land this could happen only after his father’s death.So every morning even before the cock’s crow he would send his servants to inquire about his father’s health. But the king unaware ,would think that not just was his son gallant but also a kind caring heart .One night when toro thought he had had enough he went to a witch.The witch agreed to carry out his evil plan but in return asked for a wish to be granted. Toro agreed readily.So the witch created a magical sword using the red moon spell and flew with it on her boom to the king’s chamber.she slit open the king’s chest and took out his heart. by red moon’s spell his body healed without any wound so his death seemed natural.The witch returned and met the prince.Now the wish,she said ,grant me my wish,say yes . As soon as toro agreed he turned into a cat.Now to turn herself into the prince she needed a true heart’s hate .So she asked the king’s heart .The king’s reply was” you have taken my heart,Now slave my soul.but free my dearest son.” Now that a true heart had spoken the words of love the spell reversed.A lightening from the sky struck Them both. Toro ,now human realized his mistake.In the quest of the world he had ruined the kingdom of love planted in his fathers heart.Later ,He became not only the king of the land but also like a father to his countrymen.
the life of a sportsperson is quite similar to that of our long lost ancestors who lived in caves.every day for them is a constant struggle and every second counts.while their goals and determination seem as high as the Everest their walk to the path of success is no less than a car race.for them each game means life or death. while some fans cheer with beer glasses and some with billboards at stadiums…..time clicks with the stern glare of a hangman and it is the matter of “now or never ” for them as they hang on the nook of success or failure.They live ,dream sleep in sports but only of them some bathe in glory of success.though earlier cavemen succeeded by a single spark of fire he achieved while rubbing two stones together, today success means fancy sports-cars,mansions with Jacuzzi , magazines with their articles or even biographies with their name on book counters or may be even a little more.time has altered the meaning of success but struggle, friction, determination and hope remains a critical part in the story of life.History remembers only success and history books carry the names of only winners.though for cave men this did not mean much but for sportsmen today this can value even more than sports itself.but few know that at the peak only the one stands who has gracefully faced the showers of love from fans and thunders from critics alike.he rises above the flowery laden slogans and harsh thorn like remarks.for him success is playing a game fairly and giving his best and then then other things follow his trail.