Peppo's sentences written in Danny's grammar lesson motivated me to write this short story.

There is silence, at least for me, though all the cacophony of the traffic and the hullabaloo from the neighbors is coming from outside, but for me, it is silence, because no phone rings though she promised to call me.  Hatred for this device is rising in me, because I can’t hate her, despite her being so rude, so hardhearted.  I wish not to use the phone, not even touch it anymore.  What is the use of this medium which fails to make a connection between me and her?  Uff! What dejection, I seem not to hear from her anymore.  If she had a problem, she would have told me before I asked her to give me a call.  I think this silence is going to kill me.  I asked her to call me tonight, I knew she would, but now, this silence seems to be eternal, infinite, endless.  People, mostly like silence, noise disturbs them and I, too, feel the same way, but now this silence is disturbing me really bad.  What does this mean? I can hardly convince myself that she does not love me.  She would have told me if she doesn’t feel that way.  She must’ve explained her mind.  She said she would have called me as soon as she comes back from the tour. I am not sure she has come yet, if yes, why is there such silence? I will probably go nuts.  How will this relationship last, if I am being treated this way?  My heart is beating high.  Throbbing is making me dizzy.  I want to get some fresh air. I am rushing to the door and open it.  She is there standing in the doorway like a picture, 'the picture of life'.  

The following is a (very poor) translation of an Urdu poem I have done on the inspiration from dara's blog "Eyes"

These are roses, these are wine.

They are unique, they are fine.

There is love in them, even the hatred,

Blessings are the eyes, curses are the eyes.

Sometimes they are mischievous

Sometimes they are shy

Sometimes they hide the secrets of heart

Sometimes become the book of heart eyes.

Some feel them deep like lake

Some find mirage, in the eyes

When ‘she’ comes, people say,

Sir, ‘eyes’! Sir, ‘eyes’!!

How strange is the talking,!

Question is what, answer, ‘eyes’.

The toxic and drunken eyes

When raise snatch the senses

If fall shake the heart

Somebody want mercy of them

Others desire to unite with them

Do not make jealous, either tease

Be careful, ‘eyes’ !Be careful, ‘eyes’!!

Purpose of life o’my friends

Beautiful eyes, heartening eyes.

Thousands have been murdered

Be careful, ‘eyes’ Be careful, ‘eyes’

O my heart, my companion

It has been once again ordered that we leave in exile.

Wander street to street begging

Wander town to town so that

could find the clue of the beloved

Let’s find any messenger, messenger to her,

Or ask every stranger where we lost the address of her

Always looking for her, day and night,

Talking to own self or to her in imagination

How would I tell you what is the night of sadness, it is very bad

It would be sufficient for me

if it was one night or there was any count.

It was not bad for me to die if for once.

Inspiration was taken from an Urdu Ghazal

Original version

Hoa phir say hukm sadir
Keh watan bader hoon hum tum
Dain gali gali sadaen
Karain rukh nagar nagar ka
Keh suragh koi paen
Kisi yar-e-namabar ka
Har aik ajnabi say puchain
Jo pata tha apnay ghar ka
Saray koyey na ashna ka
Hamain din say raat karna
Kabhi iss say baat karna
Kabhi uss say baat karna
Tumhain kiya kahon keh kiya hai
Shab-e-ghum buri bala hai
Hamain yeh bhi tha ghanimat
Jo koi shumar hota
Hamain kiya bura tha marna
Agar aik bar hota.

ہوا پھر سے حکم صادر  
کہ وطن بدر ہوں ہم تم 
دیں گلی گلی صدائیں 
کریں رخ نگر نگر کا 
کہ سراغ کوئی پائیں 
کسی یارِ نامہ بر کا 
ہر ایک اجنبی سے پوچھیں 
جو پتہ تھا اپنے گھر کا 
سر کو ےء نا شنا ئاں 
ہمیں دن سے رات کرنا 
کبھی اِس سے بات کرنا 
کبھی اُس سے بات کرنا 
تمہیں کیا کہوں کہ کیا ہے 
شبِ غم بری بلا ہے 
ہمیں یہ بھی تھا غنیمت 
جو کوئی شمار ہوتا 
ہمیں کیا برا تھا مرنا 
!!!اگر اِک بار ہوتا

"Learn" vs "Study"

The words learn and study are closely related to each other. Learn means "to gain knowledge or skill by studying" and study means "to read, memorize facts, attend school, etc."

When you study something, you have not learned it yet. When you are studying something, you are reading books or articles about something you do not know a lot about yet, or using flashcards to memorize facts, or listening to a teacher in a classroom, or watching videos about something so that you can know something or do something well.

When you learn something, you make it part of the things you know. When you know a lot about a subject, or are very skillful or knowledgeable about something, you have learned it.

Learning is gaining knowledge by studying, and studying is done to learn things. Below are some examples showing how these two words are used.

• He learned about computers by reading a book.
• He studied computer science in college.
• He is learning a lot about patient care in his nursing classes.
• She spent an hour every night studying her new vocabulary words.
• Study the definitions of these words to learn them.
• She learned how to do her job very quickly.
• Some people learn best by reading books and others learn best by listening to lectures in class.
• Students who spend some time each day studying will do well on tests.
• The children learned several facts about cows in class this week.

Taken from the internet.

Those who saw me (the surrounding people) said that I didn't care (after our separation)
they said that to be with or without you, I will survive!
they said that I all my lifetime have never cried and said that your tears during our separation didn't bother me!
they said that it's impossible that I might be lost after leaving you!
And said that after leaving you, I do live all my days in spring!
they said that I and you have never been matching for each other!
And said that it would have been a must I to forget and sell you!
WHILE (the truth is that)............................I swear by Allah that after leaving you I taste the HELL
And that actually since that I find the tears are very sweet
And the longing to you never left me
which makes me look for you in me to find that the yearning to you is filling all of me
And that life after leaving you is just endless night in my eyes

All the night long, my tears and your memories don't want to leave me just like friends
suffering them, especially at nights
While I feel very much fearing about you, just want\need to get calmed about you but
I don't know why I'm fearing my eyes to meet yours!

Please pardon me if I have already blogged it. Actually this is a gift given to me one of my friends in the virtual world. No more in contact since long.

This is on the motivation by onee's Dialogue Challenge: Meet A Stranger:

I was as usual alone sitting on the bench in a garden under on big oak tree. I was as usual in my gloom mood, as was missing something. 

Me: What is that I am missing? 

There was no answer, but the quietness imbibed by my oneself, there were other people, too.

Me: Have I done something wrong? Have I hurt someone? Have I broken someone’s, heart? 

Voice, (she): What are you thinking MI? Why are you sad, when you have done what you wished?

Me: Who are you, why do you not come before me? 

She: I am the one whom you left, and did not care my love. 

Me: Oh! So, I am a very bad guy, I really have broken heart.

She: No, when you broke the relationship, neither I weep nor you cried.

Me: But since then I could not have a peaceful sleep.

She: Me neither.

Me: Was I that bad? 

She: No, you was a good companion, but you were never with me.  It was like I was in the cool shade, but at the same time, there was the scorching sun. We were together but there was no togetherness.

Me: But! 

She: Do not stop me, let me speak.  Maybe you have some differences, maybe you think differently, maybe you do not consider me as your companion, or a lover, but O the one who left, you were not dishonest, in your feelings. 

Me: What did you do after we separated?  Did you find someone other, was there other love?

She:  How can other dwell in the eyes, in the heart in which my beloved live. When we parted, there were songs on my lips, the song which I never sang for anyone but you. 

Me:  Listen, I never meant to hurt you, I was just like that, maybe it was my lack of confidence, of course not in you, but in myself.  Are you listening to me? 

Voice: No, you were a good companion, but you were never with me.  It was like I was in the cool shade, but at the same time, there was the scorching sun. We were together but there was no togetherness.

There was and echoing song seemed to be coming near or going farther and farther. 

Me:  Please wait, don’t go away, please tell me are you a “reality” or just my imagination, or subconscious, or the call of my conscience for anything wrong done by me!

There was no voice, I was repeating repeatedly my desire to have her wait for me.

Me: Please let me know, please tell me is this reality or………………………….

Someone: “Sir, Sir, what happened?  Are you all right?  You seem to be in a ‘fit’ talking to yourself!” 

Someone dragged me off my dream. 

Me: Perhaps I was sleeping! 

I said to myself rather to someone.

Me: Oh! So that was not realit………………

I stopped abruptly when I saw a single rose in my hand.  But there was nobody around!

The word ‘Mother’ derives from the Old English term modor, which is cognate with the Latin word mater and the Greek word meter. (From the Latin term, such words as maternal and maternity are derived.)

The term refers not only to a female parent but also to a woman in authority, such as the head of a women’s religious community; it was also long employed as a respectful term of address for an elderly woman. It may also apply to an origin, precursor, or source, as in the expression “Necessity is the mother of invention.”

A stepmother is a woman who marries one of one’s parents, and

a mother-in-law is the mother of one’s spouse. 

Motherly describes maternal behavior, and 

motherlike alludes to a resemblance to the qualities of a mother. 

Motherhood describes the quality or state of being a mother.

The verb mother pertains to the act of producing biological or figurative offspring. 

Motherland describes one’s home country,

Mother Nature is the maternal personification of nature as the source of all that exists in the natural world. 

Open compounds that include the term mother include

“earth mother” (meaning “a maternal figure”)

“mother cell” (“a cell in an organism that produces usually different types of cells”),

“mother hen” (“an overly protective person”),

“mother lode” (“a primary mineral lode or vein” or “a primary source or supply”),

“mother wit” (“natural intelligence or wit”), and

“mother ship” (“a ship that serves smaller vessels”).

A stage mother, meanwhile, is one who pressures a child to participate in the performing arts and demands special treatment for him or her; the term is derogatory, with the implication that she is living vicariously through the child.

Expressions that use the term mother follow:

a face only a mother could love: said of an unattractive person.

at (one’s) mother’s knee: alluding to learning something as a child.

every mother’s son: an evocative way of saying “everyone”

everybody/everyone and (one’s) mother: a hyperbolic expression referring to a crowd

the mother of all (blank): a hyperbolic reference to the best or greatest of a type of thing

swear/swore on (one’s) mother’s grave: a hyperbolic reference to a solemn confirmation that one is telling the truth because of the association with the sanctity of a parent’s gravesite

tied to(one’s) mother’s apron strings: said of a man who has not asserted his independence from his mother

Help taken from internet

It was winter, all the mountains around were covered with thick layer of snow fell last night and the light flakes of ice were still falling.  Far away there was a guest house on the high mountain, light from the lone window of the only occupied room was trying to give the sense of life in the area, so as the man lonely loitering on the hillside.  He was a very handsome man in his early 30s.  He was Raaza.  The only guest in the guest house who used to come only in winter, when the other people prefer to stay in their own houses with their families before fireplace chewing dry fruits.  But Raaza was not other people.  He was different, never had any friend, always like to be alone.  He was alone this time also, but haunted by his past, when he was not alone and lived with his mother and younger brother, Faizan.  He loved him very much.   Mrs. Mariam Sarfaraz lost her husband to deadly cancer when Faizan was 4 and Raza was 7 years old.  Raaza took a deep breath and sat on a bench in the compound of the guest house. 

“Because you are not my son by birth and Faizan is my rear son!”  That was a bomb shell which exploded years ago, is still echoing Raaza’s mind.  Like always, Raaza listened to his mother with obvious calm, but the tsunami in his heart and head hammering in his brain was extremely painful.   But, he was Raaza, always Raazi (be contented) with his fate because he loved his brother and mother very much, even more, the  than only girl on earth whom he loved the most. 

He refused Naheed and told her that he did not see her in the way she expected, and she should marry Faizan as his mother and her mom wished. 

The pain in his heart was even harder when he saw Naheed staring at him with widely opened eyes full of the tear.  She ran away, he wished might she have shouted at him. But it seemed that as he had accepted the decision of fate in the same way she had done, but he was wrong.

On the wedding the day he was in his cottage all the ceremonies were going on. Everybody was very happy, but him.  He was trying hard to get some sleep.  She was standing at the door in her wedding dress, with tears in her eyes.  She was looking even more beautiful, really a fairy came down from heaven as Faizan first introduced her the very first day when he was as usual sitting by his favorite lake near their house. 

Seeing her entering into the room and closing the door behind her, he came out of his dream, she was really there.  “Wa….what are you doing here? You must be there with Faizan.”  

“Ha! So easily took your decision as I am a mere slave of your kingdom.  I was badly insulted, when you refused, and I took as challenge, only you or none, come with me and tell them that we love each other.”  She was standing before him firm and decided,

“but I can’t do this, I have already told you that I do not think about you………………..”  “LIAR!  She shouted, you are a liar, you are not true even to yourself, please do not leave me alone.  I can’t live without you, I am ready to elope with you, we will go to any place and live our lives.” 

“I am sorry Naheed, I can’t disobey my mother, I am under obligation, she has asked me to do so for Faizan.” 

“But you are also her son, how can she do it to you,……………..”

“NO, I AM NOT HER SON, I AM HER STEP SON.”  Raaza fell down on the bed and hid his face with both of his hands, 

“She has asked me to return back all her love she had given to me, cared me, brought me up, educated me, and made me a big man, now she is asking me to give her back the love she had given to me, for her real son, by stepping back and letting Faizan marry you”.  He was crying, the strong man was then broken hearted and weakened.

She was quiet, didn’t say a word.  Raaza removed his hands from his face and looked at her.  She was looking dejected; the tears were rolling down her paling cheeks.  

“So I do not have any worth in your eyes not in their eyes, you lords and ladies decided the fate of this salve.  But I am also a queen of my own kingdom,  I can take my decision myself,  I told you only you or none, if not you then this life has no value to me,……………………..she was weeping, and talking, Raaza saw her falling down on the floor.  Lots of blood was oozing out of her mouth. 

He ran towards her,

“What is this Naheed, what you have done?”  I told you, only you or no………..ne, her head tilted on aside, and a little bottle rolled down out of her palm.  She was dead.”  

So was Raaza, though living, but he was like living dead. He left her mother and brother.  Occasionally came here in this guest house where he first saw his first and last love.

He was not aware of the norms of love, so he was a looser,  sometimes he thinks that he is a killer, he killed the girl who loved him so deeply gave her life because she thought “only him or none”.

 

Difficulties and suffering sometimes make us miserable and dejected when we have lost hope and faith.  Whatever our suffering and difficulties are never let the complaints come out in dejection.  Instead try to light the lamps within you, the light of hope and faith.  Maybe the worse the situation is the more we make the light shine, it is just to test how strong is our faith in Allah.  This persistence in faith will open the door and you will see the help coming from where we do not even think.  This is a divine test.  Suffering and difficulties do come to every soul on earth, having faith or no faith, the test is always there for every individual.  How come it is not possible that we claim for love, and do not prove it when it is tested.  We try to persuade our beloved our love which will never lose in hardship or happiness happens otherwise.  We do not lose our hope and keep pacing to the beloved. But when it comes to Allah (God, Eshwar) the divine beloved who wants to test our love for Him by sending some sufferings, our faith and hope get staggered.

AADMI USAY MUT JAANIAE GA ZAFAR

JISSAY AISH MAIN YAAD-E-KHUDA NARAHI

JISSAY TAISH (ANGER) MAIN KHOF-E-KHUDA NA RAHA.

DO NOT CONSIDER HIM A MAN ZAFAR

WHO FORGETS ALLAH WHEN THERE ARE HAPPINESS

AND IN ANGER HE FORGETS FEAR OF ALLAH.

Another poem on the motivation of Onee's Challenge on the same word "dulcinea" I tried earlier. The basic idea of the poem borrowed from children rhymes. A learner is always a learner (like me) always seek help from hither and thither)

All the ways go to the world of my dulcinea

“Take a bus or take a train

Take a boat or Take a plane

Take a taxi or take a car

Maybe near or may be far

Take a rocket to the moon

But be sure to come back soon

To the world of my dulcinea

“Go, Go, Go!

Fly in a plane

Or ride on a train

In a boat, you will row

“Go, Go, Go!

To the world of my dulcinea

This is on the motivation of Onee's Poem Challenge.

Oh Wonee! O’Wonee!!

You challenged me to take you

to the world of my dulcinea!!!

Ok let’s go, get ready, sit tight,

The shuttle of my thoughts is ready for flight.

I am out and floating,

See there are flowers,

No, these are the smiles of my dulcinea.

What, they are the stars? OK!

But see they are sprinkling out of the

Colorful silky dress of my dulcinea.

I will not go back to the reality

where there is all pain,

where all happiness is slain

I am disconnecting myself,

I want to fly with her

to enjoy her smiles and gentle touch.

O lone passenger of my shuttle!

Do you want to come out? Come out, we  

will be lost hand in hand in the infinity of time

In the world of my dulcinea.

This is on the motivation from Expector's Tips on English Usage (8): I was wondering

I phoned her whether she would be able to come to see me.  I wondered if I might be turned down, but instead my request was wonderfully accorded to.  I was wondering how could it happen in spite I was hoping it to be happened that way.  She never responded to me like she did that day.  I was afraid she could refuse to my request.  I was thinking, knowing her indifferent attitude towards me, she might have got something up her sleeve.  And it turned up so when I was waiting for her, she phoned me that she was at the airport and leaving for Australia.  I was not shocked at all.  May be this was destined so.

This is on the motivation of Luci's "Writing challenge: My cup of coffee

Coffee Mug -----My First Crush:

I had nothing to do at home, so I decided to re-set my closet.  I was emptying the closet and putting ‘saris’ and other clothes separately.  There I found a cardboard box on the upper shelf.  I remembered it was the box in which I used to keep my teenage mementos.  I got excited, grab the box and sat on my reading table forgetting all about setting of closet.  As I opened the box, there I saw  the ‘Coffee Mug’.  I stared at the mug for some moments, then I took it out and held in my shaking hands.  As I held the mug in my hand, he was there standing just before me appearing from thin air, as beautiful, as handsome and charming as I saw him last. 

He was a friend of my father and frequently visited us (my father).  I was in my teenage, a big age difference, but I always feel attracted to him.  I felt happiness when found him at home.  I never missed chance to serve him coffee in this very mug, though my father used to ask the house maid for this, but I always pushed her aside and made myself coffee for him, which I found that he liked it.  He never talked to me but just how I was doing, or how my study going on.  He used to smoke a lot. The ash tray got full of cigarettes butts when he left.

After he left I immediately went to the room and removed the coffee mug and the ashtray.  Then I made coffee for myself in the same mug, and sipped it from the same place where he used to drink.  I also put the cigarette butt on my lips posing as I was smoking cigarette the way he used to smoke. 

t that time I could not give the name to my emotions I was feeling about him.  I often thought why I was doing so,  why I used to imitate him, why I admired him so much, that most of the time he occupied my thoughts.

This was kept going on.  I realized quite later what it was.  I got frightened, how could I justified my crush on him because he was my dad’s friend, there was big difference of age.  But I couldn’t help it.  I was failing to get rid of those emotions I had been having for him. 

Then he stopped coming to see my father.  My father told me that he had migrated to Australia.  I got shocked as if in real my beloved whom I had made my idol, left me behind before I confess my love for him.

The memories were in fast tracking since I found the ‘coffee mug’  My eyes were damp, I was still in shock.  A bird flew by outside the window dragging me out of the memories of my first crush.  Tears were rolling down on my cheek.  I put my trembling lips on the very spot of the ‘Coffee Mug’ to which his lips used to touch.

This is on the inspiration taken from Rose’s poem “I Watch the Moon”

Thanks Rose.

Once again the same night, the same room, the same bed and the same me awaken, lying slant on my soft pillow, as soft as the lap of the beloved, but still there is no sleep in my eyes, thinking about you, you are not with me.  I look at the sky, stare hard, looking for you among the stars.  They seem to singing, but even their lullaby brings no sleep in my eyes.  I look at the moon, but it is you, not the moon, yes it’s you, your face, your eyes your lips.  I close my eyes as to hide you in them.  You are calling me, I am clearly hearing your voice. I feel the touch of your delicate lips on mine, this is the longing, this is the missing, missing of the beloved.  I hear the humming of your song. It is in my ears, no, it is in my heart.  The song is your, but the music, the beat is of my heart.  This is love, love where I belong. I once again open my eyes and look at the moon, you are still there, and I see tears in your eyes.  Why? Come to me I am waiting for you………….No, your tears are now rolling down on your flowery blushed cheek,  you can’t come from all the vastness of sky, then wait for me I’ll come to you.  You are now smiling, love powered your lips to generate this beautiful smile, your smile emitting light which delights me too.  It seems everything is singing, but it will quiet down soon as the first light on the horizon announces the rising of sun and then the moon will become light-less, as you will be gone from it.   There will be night again, and there will be moon again, I’ll be awaken again to see the light……….to see you.  It’ll go on and on till we’ll unite forever.

Money is a ‘mean’ to an end. It is meant for use, but then only the right use of it leads to satisfaction, while the misuse of it leads to misery.  Money is not for hoarding, but for fulfilling the legitimate needs and requirements of the owner as well as to help others (poor and needy) to satisfy their due necessities. It would be considered unwise if it is squandered away in unnecessary trifles or harmful luxuries.

Money is occasionally condemned being root of evils.  It is said, that it is earned with difficulty, so as it is difficult to keep it, and above all when it parts away, it leaves the owner in great sorrow and depression.  This is an erroneous view.  In fact the efforts made in earning money by honest means strengthens the character. 

Earning money in honest ways is not bad.  It is right to say, ‘Earn all you can, save all you can, give all you can.’  Amass wealth by all right means, at the same time spend it in the right and proper way.  Neither the miser who starves himself, and makes piles of his wealth grow day by day, nor the spendthrift who wastes away in drink and gambling make the right use of his money. 

 One thing more be kept in mind that the accumulation of wealth, though desirable a lot, is not the ‘be-all and end-all’ of our existence.  Money is useful for satisfaction of the needs of our material existence, but man does not live by bread alone.

 Above all, we should be grateful in rich, and patient in poverty.

It is on the motivation of Danny's New Writing Challenge: "a Short Story"

He Was From Other Species:

He was my roommate.  His name was Abdul Samad.  He was very intelligent as well as handsome. He had a very charming personality.  He didn’t have many friends,  We sat together in the classroom, we had our meals together and we studied together.  He was the only one who always tried to argue, raise questions in the classroom, even outside.  One day we were studying in our room.   All at once the dark cloud overcast the sky and immediately after that the rain started.  Our clothes were hanging on the rope outside, in the open.  I asked him to fetch the clothes otherwise they would get soaked.  He didn’t respond, nor got up to go out.  Then I asked a bit louder, “Abdul Samad, I asked you to bring the clothes in!” “Ok,” and he raised his hand. I saw that his hand started stretching and extending while he was still sitting in his place.  His hand became about ten feet long and gathered all the clothes. Then, the hand came back to normal leaving the clothes at my feet.  I was looking at him with my wide open eyes, fell down unconscious.

THE DARKNESS OF LIFE

She was missing since last week.  Her parents, belonging to one of the richest families of the country, have some influence in government circle, so the entire police department was with him looking for her.  She was a teenager, reaching to her 18^th birthday very soon, was a disturbed girl in the sense that she never cared much about her parents, she never showed interest in her studies, and her school progress, though not bad in the early schooling, but later on it had been declining. 

Today her father received a hopeful news that his daughter has been located on highway travelling with a boy, who happened to be one of his delivery men of one of his food factories.  He instructed the police officer to first recover the girl, then they decide themselves what to do with the boy.

Naturally police didn’t care much about the boy, and when they came out of the hiding place the police arrested the boy,  not caring her shout that he was innocent and she herself went with him.

She was sitting in the living room with her parent, there was one of his uncles, who came from abroad after five years.   She threw hateful look at him.  She was crying badly, telling her parents that she ran with the boy with her own will, even he was not ready to take her with him, but she insisted and forcefully got on the delivery truck.

“You do not know these hoodlums, they are bad people they might have hurt you, they are drinker and rapist.”

“RAPIST!”  She burst out, “YOU ALWAYS TALK ABOUT THE BAD PEOPLE OUTSIDE, BUT YOU NEVER PAID ATTENTION, TO LOOK FOR THE ONE IN THE HOUSE, YES THIS COUSINE OF YOUR, SO CALLED UNCLE OF MINE!”

“Stop nonsense, her uncle scolded her.

“HONEY YOU ALWAYS IMAGINE THINGS” Both of her parents also shouted at her.

“NO, THIS TIME I WILL NOT STOP, I’LL NOT KEEP QUIET AND YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME. UNCLE, I AM GOING TO WASH ROOM, WHAT DO YOU THINK?

“What you are talking about, go if you want, why you are telling me.”

“BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS LIKE TO SEE ME IN THE WASHROOM AND CATCHING ME THERE!”

This time her uncle turned white as all blood from his body drained out.” 

“YES THIS UNCLE OF MINE, WHENEVER VISITED US HE NEVER MISSED THE CHANCE TO CATCH ME ALONE IN ANY CORNER OF THE HOUSE, HIS FAVOURITE PLACE WAS THE WASH ROOM AND HE FOLLOWED ME THERE, THEN HE USED TO GRAP ME, SHUT MY MOUTH TIGHT WHILE HE…………………………………..”

 She was hysterically crying and telling every detail she had been victimized by her uncle.

 ‘I ALWAYS TRIED TO TELL YOU BOTH, BUT I WAS SHUT UP BY YOU LIKE HE USED TO TIGHT MY MOUTH AND I WAS ALMOST SUFFOCATED TO DEATH. THE SAME WAY YOU, MY PARENT DID BY NOT LISTENING TO ME.  MY ENTIRE CHILDHOOD WAS BURNED OUT BY THIS PSYCHO PATHETIC ANIMAL.  YOU BOTH ALWAYS WARNED ME TO BEWARE OF THE BAD PEOPLE OUTSIDE, BUT YOU NEVER PAID ATTENTION THAT ONE IS ALWAYS LURKING UNDER YOUR OWN ARMPIT,  WHY MOM! WHY DAD, WHY DIDN’T YOU REALIZE THAT A RAPIST CAN EVEN BE IN THE HOUSE IN THE FAMILY AND HE IS MORE DANGEROUS THAN THE ONE OUTSIDE.  WHEN I HEARD HE IS COMING BACK, I DECIDED TO RUN AWAY FROM THE HOUSE, RUN AWAY FROM THE RAPIST GOING TO LURK IN THE HOUSE ONCE AGAIN.”

She was trembling with rage, and misery, her uncle had already got away in rush saying “your daughter got sick, I will never come to this house again”.

 “DAD, THAT BOY WAS VERY NICE AND HE EVEN DIDN’T TOUCH ME DURING THESE DAYS.  I FOUND MYSELF MORE PROTECTED WITH HIM, THAN IN THIS HOUSE.  I AM GOING AWAY FROM HERE, AND WILL LIVE IN THE GUEST HOUSE NEAR THE FOOD FACTORY, FOR HOW LONG I DON’T KNOW.  AND PLEASE WITHDRAW CHARGES AGAINST THAT BOY, HE IS INNOCENT, AND HE IS A VERY NICE PERSON.’

 Saying this SHE went out to go to her own world where she felt herself protected away from the frightening ‘darkness of life’.

The poor man may incline to assume that the possession of wealth would make him happy.  He may have so many desires that he might satisfy if he has wealth.  On the other hand, rich men often complain of the cares and worries of riches and being rich.  Any way it is true that so far as body and peace of mind are concerned all the different ranks of men are nearly upon a level, being worried, and on the contrary the beggar and or poor who suns himself by the side of the high way possess that security which kings are fighting for.

In this matter, it may be considered that poor honestly express his real feelings, while the rich as a class must be accused of affection, whey they express a longing for the simple life and freedom from care attributed to the poor.  When we have any hesitation in implicitly believing the account men give of their sentiments, the best way to get at the truth is to observe their conduct.  Applying this test the question before us is that we find the poor are continually struggling hard to become rich, while there are not many rich men who willingly impoverish themselves.

Nevertheless, it must be admitted that there is a certain amount o truth in the praises of poverty expressed by the riches.   These praises are to be regarded as an exaggerated denial of the popular idea that wealth is sure to increase happiness.  No doubt there are circumstances which show that rich are likely to be happier than the poor man, but there are other sources of happiness so much more important than wealth, that in many cases their absence makes the millionaire miserable in the midst of all his expensive luxury.  Like wealth cannot buy respect, friendship and above all ‘love’. 

God has made men rich as well as poor, just to see how they have faith in Him, by their thankfulness and patience.   If a rich man pays his dues what he has towards poor as assigned to him by God.  On the other hand if poor shows and maintain his patience as assigned to him by Almighty and be contended with what has been given to him, he will be happy equally.  But feeling of deprival on the part of rich that he does not have peace of mind and the poor that he does not have much money makes both of them equally miserable.