Skip to main content

Life is to be lived contemporarily.

“A certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of happiness from the wisest man in the world. The lad wandered through the desert for forty days, and finally came upon a beautiful castle, high atop a mountain.
 It was there that the wise man lived. “Rather than finding a saintly man, though, our hero, on entering the main room of the castle, saw a hive of activity: tradesmen came and went, people were conversing in the corners, a small orchestra was playing soft music, and there was a table covered with platters of the most delicious food in that part of the world.

 The wise man conversed with every one, and the boy had to wait for two hours before it was his turn to be given the man’s attention. “The wise man listened attentively to the boy’s explanation of why he had come, but told him that he didn’t have time just then to explain the secret of happiness.

 He suggested that the boy look around the palace and return in two hours. “‘Meanwhile, I want to ask you to do something,’ said the wise man, handing the boy a teaspoon that held two drops of oil. ‘As you wander around, carry this spoon with you without allowing the oil to spill.’

 “The boy began climbing and descending the many stairways of the palace, keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. After two hours, he returned to the room where the wise man was.
 “‘Well,’ asked the wise man, ‘did you see the Persian tapestries that are hanging in my dining hall? Did you see the garden that it took the master gardener ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?’

“The boy was embarrassed, and confessed that he had observed nothing. His only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise man had entrusted to him. “‘Then go back and observe the marvels of my world,’ said the wise man.
‘You cannot trust a man if you don’t know his house.’ “Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his exploration of the palace, this time observing all of the works of art on the ceilings and the walls.
He saw the gardens, the mountains all around him, the beauty of the flowers, and the taste with which everything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise man, he related in detail everything he had seen.
“‘But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?’ asked the wise man. “Looking down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was gone.

“‘Well, there is only one piece of advice I can give you,’ said the wisest of wise men. ‘The secret of happiness is to see all the marvels of the world, and never to forget the drops of oil on the spoon.’” 

Epilogue: This is the story I've been listening from my childhood and it had taught me so many things about the lite and its marvels and wonders, But the most fundamental thing in that living the life contemporarily with the surroundings, feeling, aspiring and inspiring from the life every minute will teach you the life and will lead you to your destiny

Comments

Amazon

Popular posts from this blog

A tongue with toxic thorns.

Your mouth can spit venom, or it's beautiful words can mend a broken soul. Speak Wisely, Represent awesomeness Your tongue with deadly thorns, Breaks others to grounds Splatter's everyone away It crucifies even the legends. But, as it does all this. It slowly inserts it's thorns With deadly poison of blames Into your body breaking your bones. It will immerse all the curse It makes you feel suicidal It destroys your all goodwill, And builds a great guilt wall. It laughs at you seeing you fall It even says that it warned you before, It kills, ruins and crushes your heart. And watches you rot with your sores A tongue with toxic thorns Is definitely dangerous for other, But with the time, after killing all. It eats you in hunger, brother Epilogue: " A lie gets halfway around the world before truth puts on its boots" - Mark Twain. You never look good trying to make someone else look bad. Most of us spread rumours, lies and we talk bad be...

For the maker of our life's.

In dedication to the farmer the maker of our lives. I am hungry as I am very bad, Like I killed someone or I sank I never stole any food Nor robbed any bank. I was only born to a farmer Who always fed the earth But never had his own grain He only had the faith. On the god who's up Who see's everything in silence But, which father can see His children die in violence. They say it always Good days are coming But, Should I wait until There is left nothing. Tomorrow when I die, With unbearable hunger. Please don't waste on mourning Be humane, save a farmer. Don't feed the stones They already have the scope Go feed a Farmer. They are waiting with hope. They're are waiting for the god Who gift's them relief, Try to be their power Resurrect their belief.

Happiness is never true.

Prologue: The poem you're about to read addresses a sensitive issue in society: the oppression of women. I've penned this poem after observing and reading multiple news articles. To delve deep into the issue I personally met some women in villages of Telangana State, as I was interviewing women of multiple backgrounds, each one of her had a painful background and a poignant story to tell, yet they were smiling, as if they were happy for surviving such tough times and were confident to face their life ahead with bravery. They were like soldiers who've been through the most harsh and toughest training and were ready for the war at any time. With multiple stories I heard, I had met a women whose life journey was encapsulated with all these stories I heard, she was too close to me personally, and I was in tears when I heard her story for the 1st time. The poem takes you through this woman's journey in life from her own perspective. "I was born, and I don't know w...