NICE POEM FROM SUNDAY HERALD.

The Good and the Bad at the moment!

GOOD:God’s gift to me

G AMRUTHA

I prayed endlessly day and night
God appeared one fine morning
when the sun shone bright.
He asked me what do I want
I was speechless, I went into raptures.
He gave me two boxes.

I have in my hands two boxes
Which God gave me to hold.
He said “put all your sorrows in the black box,
And all your joys in the gold.”
I heeded His words, and in the two boxes,
Both my joys and sorrows I stored.
But though the gold became heavier each day,
The black was as light as before.
with curiosity, I opened the black,
I wanted to find out why,
And I saw, in the base of the box, a hole.

Which my sorrows had fallen out by
I showed the hole to God and mused,
“I wonder where my sorrows could be...?”
He smiled a gentle smile and said
“My child, they are all here with me”
I asked God, why he gave me the boxes,
Why the gold and the black with a hole?
“My child, the gold is for you to count your
Blessings, the black is for you to let go”

Yes, His kindness is boundless.
It is like a vast ocean of nectar.
His ways are myriad, countless.
He is a friend in all our endeavours.
I realised.

Comments

The Big Bang Theory.

He is robbed including his pants. He can’t fix himself to change in life. He calls Leonard. — Girmit (^‿^) (@cgBalu) 🚆 → 🚉 → 🚆 → 🚉 A funny moment from The Big Bang Theory (Season 8, Episode 1). Sheldon decides to tour American cities by train. New York. Arizona. A few others. But there is a Sheldon twist. He never actually goes into the cities. He remains inside trains and railway stations, orbiting them like a cautious satellite. Then disaster strikes. He is robbed. Everything goes. Even his pants. And Sheldon being Sheldon, he cannot recalibrate his personality. So he does the only logical thing in his universe: he calls Leonard. ❤😎

Gunshot Piercing

Chill Gunshot Piercing It began, as all life-altering decisions do, with someone else’s fashion. My younger cousin walked in wearing purple ear studs—confident, casual, as if he had always been this stylish creature. I looked at him. He looked at me. The studs looked back at me and whispered, “Upgrade pending…” My wife sealed the matter in one line: “You will look good.” That was it. Proposal passed. No further discussion. A few days later, we went to the jeweller’s shop to buy a chain for our daughter. A normal, respectable outing. But destiny had other plans… and a small device that makes a sound like a stapler with attitude. My five-year-old grandson came along, purely for moral support—his own, not mine. The jeweller inspected my ears like an archaeologist discovering ancient ruins. “Ah! Old holes are there,” he declared, as if announcing hidden treasure. My wife took charge. She marked the exact spot on my earlobes with the seriousness of a surgeon and the confidence of ...

Same ease. Same certainty. No performance.

We went to the community departmental store, my grandson and I. I like walking with him. I’m quietly proud of it. Long ago, when I was young, I travelled in a car with a prominent man from our small town. My uncle sat beside him; I sat in front with the driver. He wasn’t loud. Didn’t instruct much. Authority sat on him like it had always belonged there. We had gone to a bigger town for Deepavali shopping. At one stop, my uncle got down, ran into a shop, and brought back two veshtis. The man didn’t touch them. Didn’t examine. Just glanced and said, almost lazily, “Take the one with the green border.” That was it. Decision made. No noise, no effort. Now I’m in a store again. Different time. Different company. My wife has given me a list. My grandson walks beside me, scanning shelves. At the biscuit aisle, he doesn’t fumble through brands. No debate. His eyes settle on a purple pa...

BLOGGING TO SOOTHE THE NERVES.

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