ALL ARE EQUAL

                                                           (jai ma kali)
                         All Are Equal
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 Once upon a time there lived a sweeper in a certain village.By nature he was a noble and God fearing and polite and respected all and sundry.He always used to carol songs in the praise of God.
    He had a tantalizing wish to feed a Brahmin priest as it was a pious act.But he was a sweeper and belonged to a low caste. No priest was ready to partake of his meal at his house.
  Not far from his dwelling, there lived a Brahmin saint by the name of Eknath. When he came to know about the sweeper's desire, he,tout de suite, agreed to dine at his shanty.The sweeper was overjoyed.
     Eknath did not believe in the caste system. He did not believe that people should be treated high or low because of the caste in which they were born.He treated all people equal.
    He jaunted to the sweeper's hogan. He readily champed at the nosh that was offered.All other sweepers flocked to Eknath to pay their respects.
    This act of Eknath made the Brahmins angry and hostile to him. Even his own son,Hari Pandit,lampooned and lambasted him for lunching at the sweeper's hut. Eknath only cachinnated at their foolishness. He preached,"All of us are God's children. He made us all equal, loves us all equally.We must not treat anyone low."
   Thus saying he began to carol in the praise of GOD.
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MORAL:---
     NONE IS HIGH,
     NONE IS LOW,
      IN THE EYES OF GOD .
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          -----[DEVENDRA SRIVASTAVA]
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Satyam Shivam Sundaram: DISTRESSED PEACOCK

Satyam Shivam Sundaram: DISTRESSED PEACOCK:                                                          jai ma kali                           DISTRESSED PEACOCK                        ...

DISTRESSED PEACOCK

                                                         jai ma kali
                          DISTRESSED PEACOCK
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      Once upon a time it was raining cats and dogs.A beautiful peacock was jitterbugging blithely and proudly in a thicket.Suddenly the recollection that he had an ugly and rough voice bobbed up in his mind.His phiz turned gloomy and tears started trickling down his cheeks.
   Just then he saw a nightingale perching on a nearby tree and singing melodiously.After listening to her, the peacock wailed,"What a sweet voice she has which everybody adores and praise,but when I speak a word,everybody makes fun of me.How jinxed I am".
    At that precise moment a goddess appeared and asked the peacock,"Why are you sad and shedding copious tears?" The peacock riposted,"God has gifted me with a beautiful body but with a disgusting voice.Whenrver I speak, people giggle comtemptuously at my voice. My beauty is inutile."
    The goddess sermoned him," You are the only one who is unhappy.Several creatures have been gifted with various gifts by the God.Some have beauty,others have strength and still others are blessed with a sweet voice.Don't grumble over your weakness but accept yourself the way you are and be happy."
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   MORAL..........
          If you are satisfied with your lot, 
          you will be far happier and peaceful in life !!
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                        (DEVENDRA SRIVASTAVA)
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Satyam Shivam Sundaram: A COMICAL SCENE

Satyam Shivam Sundaram: A COMICAL SCENE:                                                       [jai ma kali]    I really feel it like a bitter pill to swallow whenever I have to v...

Satyam Shivam Sundaram: A COMICAL SCENE

Satyam Shivam Sundaram: A COMICAL SCENE:                                                       [jai ma kali]    I really feel it like a bitter pill to swallow whenever I have to v...

A COMICAL SCENE

                                                      [jai ma kali]
   I really feel it like a bitter pill to swallow whenever I have to visit the local market.It always remains awfully overcrowded. In addition to the habitual shoppers, shopping addicts and window shoppers,there are the four-legged corsairs looking for some choice vegetables to glom from the unsuspecting vendors squatting on the roadside.Then there is the traffic-cars,scooters,bikes,bicycles and occasional bus or truck;and there are the greatest menace on the roads i.e.the rickshaws.The rickshaw-puller is the most erratic creature on the roads.He first turns to the right or left,and then,if he feels so inclined,he gives the signal.All too delayed;someone collides with his rickshaw.
     A few days ago,I had to go to the market to cop some groceries.As I was threading my cautious way through the maze,a caterwaul some distance ahead,pierced my eardrums.I saw people skedaddling in that direction.I followed them with curiosity.
  In the centre of a ring of onlookers,there stood a massive xanthippe female.She was yammering with the full volume of her vocal chords.What she was screaming,I shudder with shame to write.She was letting out a fusillade of vilest abuses with the rapidity of a human 
machine gun,at the rickshaw-puller and a young cyclist who stood there crestfallen.It seemed that they were both to blame for the mishap that had happened.
   She had been sitting in the rickshaw with a basket of vegetables on the floorboard at her
 feet.The cyclist had collided with her rickshaw.The impact had flung her out of the vehicle on the road,perhaps damaging it.Her vegetables had been scattered around and while continuing her tirade against the two inoffensive guys,she had collected the vegetables.
  The assembled spectators,cachinnating at the spectacle had infuriated her to the point of her hefting her hand to slug the cyclist.In terror the youth struck out of her.He struck the basket which she was holding that sent it spinning in the air,the vegetables being scattered even further afield this time.
   There was no knowing what the woman would have done. The cyclist hopped onto his cycle and scampered away at top speed.The rickshaw-puller jettisoned his vehicle and fleeing for his life,  evanesced in the crowed.
     The riled woman, blurting out dirtiest abuses and with a dilation of her nostrils, let out a loud fart and departed !!
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Satyam Shivam Sundaram: TOIL AND MOIL

Satyam Shivam Sundaram: TOIL AND MOIL:                                              { jai ma kali}                                              +++++++++    Once upon a time an...