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Frozen Moments Revisited - ebook
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Data wydania:
6 października 2019
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Frozen Moments Revisited - ebook
It is snippets of raw beauty of life's simple moments. It talks about love, betrayal, material wealth and human convictions. it tries to touch the universal truths by going back to the basic, by letting the readers re-examine their own values, personal conflicts and self-beliefs.
We believe in destiny, but do
we know our destiny?
What is love?
When we love someone then
why we cheat?
When we cheat someone, we feel happy
but when cheated then?
We behave differently than
we expect from others.
Win or lose is a part and parcel of life,
but we never wish to lose by hook or crook.
How can you expect more by giving less?
Every day we see a payback,
but we never think of our payback.
This book will help you check your Humanity index.
| Kategoria: | Literature |
| Język: | Angielski |
| Zabezpieczenie: |
Watermark
|
| ISBN: | 978-1-370-51933-0 |
| Rozmiar pliku: | 289 KB |
FRAGMENT KSIĄŻKI
Acknowledgements
I went to Bangalore to live with my daughter for a few days.
She was living in Indira Nagar in front of the park. There was a walking track inside the park along its boundary wall. In the morning and evening hours, people were coming for a walk and running. My daughter’s house was in front of the park gate. Just near the park gate, inside the park, there was shiv mandir. It was a very popular mandir.
But, things in or near the park gate were surprising.
A young girl in her duty dress was coming on her scooty. She was standing her scooty just away from the park gate. While stay seated on her scooty, she uses to smoke a cigarette and go back to her office.
One young man of around twenty-five years of age was coming with a woman around thirty-five years of age on a motorcycle. They were parking the motorcycle just behind the gate near a tree. A young man uses to hold the woman by her waist while stay seated on the motorcycle. They used to talk like that for about half an hour.
Likewise, a young pair were coming and sitting on the park’s fencing wall by holding each other tightly. They were doing this regularly for half an hour.
Just like that, an old man was coming with a bread packet for street dogs. Street dogs used to gather near him. He was giving a bread piece to every dog. They were obeying him like a child. Those dogs were listening and following his instructions like a human being.
These incidents inspired me to write this book.
I am really indebted to my painter friend Krzysztof Konopka from Piotrkow Trybunalski, Poland, who very graciously offered to use any of his painting for the cover page for this book.
Hope you will like it.
Md TaslimPrologue
Life is an assortment of many events and moments that get engraved in the memory called ‘Life’ Some events leave an impression on us and these impressions, we carry with ourselves over the years. Sometimes, we think of the days bygone and try to think about we have taken, or we should have taken.
This is a collection of such revisited pages of time, which teach us the meanings of life. How every episode in life happens for a reason and introduces us to a friend called ‘destiny’.
How life echoes back depend on what we give, the good or the bad. Ultimately, life comes to a full circle and yet we hope for miracles to happen. Even death, which is the ultimate reality becomes a source of livelihood for someone.
Last but not the least Love; for what it means, for what it’s worth and for what it entails, stay a well-cherished mystery.
This book will take you to a ride to a chain of events in life of a person which changed his perspective towards life and will change also your perspective towards life.
It is bound to shake you from inside and will force you to think for a moment.
It’s the story of a sugar in a cup of tea, you can swirl it the way you want ... to your choice and to your taste.
Md TaslimChapter One
Life is a puzzle. It is custom made for each of us. We remain solving it in our different style. Some of us solve it quickly, and some of us take more time. Those who solve their riddle quickly they are identified as bright, they recognize those who solve their puzzle in more than average time as dumb head but most of us solve our puzzle in an average time and considered ordinary or ordinary people.
Ordinary people are more in number, or I should say we are more in number. When we solve the first riddle, another riddle of the game of life pops up. It is the beauty of this game of life. We become addicted to this game and enjoy it. Often, we compare our skill with others. We boast about our competence and try to show off. We consider ourselves best among our peers and in general. This makes us inquisitorial being. Another game of higher and higher saddles goes on popping up driving us increasingly messed up. This process of game playing goes on until the end of our journey of life when we cease to exist on this planet called earth.
Death is the most significant leveler, it never discriminates between intelligent, dumb head or mediocre, rich or poor, beautiful or ugly, happy or sad, young or old, theist or atheist. It is a life, which discriminates, always, at every step but it teaches us the value of patience, perseverance, humility, humanity, aggressiveness, ability to fight, strength to endure rough weathers and make us humane.
Those of us do not learn these things, leads a miserable life. Once we learn and practice these things in life, we love the best attributes of life and experience its subtleness. Love teaches us that losers are always the winner of the game of love. This makes our life a beautiful journey.
Let us make our journey of life a beautiful journey. Let us strive for it.
After writing this blog, I took out another pen from my penholder kept it on my table.
A dark green ink pen with white metal cover is in my hand. On the chariot of memories attached to this pen, I suddenly reached the year 1972, Varanasi City. I was due to appear for my first Class Mine Manager's Examination in the mining engineering department of BHU.
It was evening time. Ira and I were sitting on the left side of the second step from the top on the Bank of river Ganges. Surroundings were melancholic. At some distance towards our right, a dead body was burning. The River Ganges was flowing quietly in front of us. As the evening descended, people started coming and sitting on the steps of Gange's Bank. The hustle and bustle were increasing all around. I was immersed in these surroundings.
Suddenly Ira turned and asked, "Why do we live?"
I was taken aback by her question. I stared at her face while thinking about the answer to her question. I could not think of an answer.
I took her hand in my hand and said, " I am living to keep these hands in my hands forever, for the whole life. I wish to live to hear my name from your beautiful lips forever. I wish to live to hear your sweet melodious voice. I want to remain entrapped in your big magical eyes. I want to live with you forever."
Ira laughed, "Your habit of playing with words is still intact."
Ira was my friend. We knew each other from school days. She was exquisite. She had long black hair, big eyes, melodic voice. Her hands were soft. It was a pleasure to hold her delicate soft well-manicured hands. She was not only pretty but also intelligent and witty. Whenever we met, she was becoming bubbly and vivacious. She changed into a chirping machine. She seldom remained quiet. She was talking and talking. I enjoyed her talks and her moods very much. Ira was in the final year of MBBS in Banaras Hindu University. We rarely met because we were studying in different cities and different states. We rarely wrote letters to each other, but whenever we met, we talked and argued about trivial, irrelevant matters like today. In fact, it is our old habit.
Once I asked her, "What do you think, love is?"
Without awaiting a second, Ira replied "convenience."
Perplexed, I asked her "What do you mean?"
She laughed and said, "Whatever you heard."
"Do you think like that about love?" I asked her.
"Am I not correct?" she said.
I said nothing.
"Don't you feel like that?" Ira asked again.
"No, I don't think so."
"You are thinking about the plutonic love. Bullshit. Women look beautiful, lovely, awesome, alluring, desiring, divine so on so forth till she is or does not become a household commodity. After that better don't ask." She said
In a general sense, she was right. If anyone loses anything, he always regards it as a precious thing, but if anyone possess something valuable then after some time, it loses its sheen. It becomes an ordinary commodity, worthless, a part of one’s collection.
"No, I don't agree with you. Even the thought of a beloved fills the heart with joy. Her closeness, her voice, her touch not only fills the heart with delight but also soothes the soul. Time can never change it. Love nurtures, love makes life beautiful. Love is bondage between two souls. Love is divine."
"Poet sir, at present, I need a cup of tea. Do something for that. We will discuss it later."
"As you wish, your Majesty."
Ira often called me Mr. Poet or Poet sir, and I called her madam or Devi Ji. We always discussed some irrational, irrelevant or trivial topics. We rarely called each other by our names. When we met, we discussed trivial issues, and we enjoyed it very much. Her closeness and her voice cast a spell on me. I enjoyed every moment of her. I always wished it should remain forever. I never thought about the life without her, and she also thought alike.
Riverbank was now lit up with bright light. It appeared as if someone has transformed the scene by murmuring the magical charm “ABRACADABRA." Colorful reflection of surroundings in quietly running water of the river Ganges was looking divine. The hustles bustle around was like a dream as if everyone has woken up from their slumber. There were sounds of bells and hymns of mantra all around. We were lost in these divine surroundings for a while. Suddenly I took Ira's hand in my hand, "You know Ira, we live to keep this divine moment, preserved in our memory forever."
"Well said Poet sir but now let us go back. Tomorrow you have your exam." Ira told me.
We left for BHU.
On the way, I saw a fountain pen shop. I purchased this pen, which is in my hand now,
"So, you still buy a new pen for your exam. And after examination you never use it?" Ira asked.
I replied, "Yes, madam."
"And how long you will keep continuing this?" Ira asked.
I replied, "Pray, may this Exam be the last Exam."
"Then promise, you will give me this pen," Ira asked.
I replied, "I will give you this pen after my exam."
And I purchased this pen, which is in my hand. In fact, it was Ira's choice.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Visit: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/711638 to purchase this book to continue reading. Show the author you appreciate their work!
I went to Bangalore to live with my daughter for a few days.
She was living in Indira Nagar in front of the park. There was a walking track inside the park along its boundary wall. In the morning and evening hours, people were coming for a walk and running. My daughter’s house was in front of the park gate. Just near the park gate, inside the park, there was shiv mandir. It was a very popular mandir.
But, things in or near the park gate were surprising.
A young girl in her duty dress was coming on her scooty. She was standing her scooty just away from the park gate. While stay seated on her scooty, she uses to smoke a cigarette and go back to her office.
One young man of around twenty-five years of age was coming with a woman around thirty-five years of age on a motorcycle. They were parking the motorcycle just behind the gate near a tree. A young man uses to hold the woman by her waist while stay seated on the motorcycle. They used to talk like that for about half an hour.
Likewise, a young pair were coming and sitting on the park’s fencing wall by holding each other tightly. They were doing this regularly for half an hour.
Just like that, an old man was coming with a bread packet for street dogs. Street dogs used to gather near him. He was giving a bread piece to every dog. They were obeying him like a child. Those dogs were listening and following his instructions like a human being.
These incidents inspired me to write this book.
I am really indebted to my painter friend Krzysztof Konopka from Piotrkow Trybunalski, Poland, who very graciously offered to use any of his painting for the cover page for this book.
Hope you will like it.
Md TaslimPrologue
Life is an assortment of many events and moments that get engraved in the memory called ‘Life’ Some events leave an impression on us and these impressions, we carry with ourselves over the years. Sometimes, we think of the days bygone and try to think about we have taken, or we should have taken.
This is a collection of such revisited pages of time, which teach us the meanings of life. How every episode in life happens for a reason and introduces us to a friend called ‘destiny’.
How life echoes back depend on what we give, the good or the bad. Ultimately, life comes to a full circle and yet we hope for miracles to happen. Even death, which is the ultimate reality becomes a source of livelihood for someone.
Last but not the least Love; for what it means, for what it’s worth and for what it entails, stay a well-cherished mystery.
This book will take you to a ride to a chain of events in life of a person which changed his perspective towards life and will change also your perspective towards life.
It is bound to shake you from inside and will force you to think for a moment.
It’s the story of a sugar in a cup of tea, you can swirl it the way you want ... to your choice and to your taste.
Md TaslimChapter One
Life is a puzzle. It is custom made for each of us. We remain solving it in our different style. Some of us solve it quickly, and some of us take more time. Those who solve their riddle quickly they are identified as bright, they recognize those who solve their puzzle in more than average time as dumb head but most of us solve our puzzle in an average time and considered ordinary or ordinary people.
Ordinary people are more in number, or I should say we are more in number. When we solve the first riddle, another riddle of the game of life pops up. It is the beauty of this game of life. We become addicted to this game and enjoy it. Often, we compare our skill with others. We boast about our competence and try to show off. We consider ourselves best among our peers and in general. This makes us inquisitorial being. Another game of higher and higher saddles goes on popping up driving us increasingly messed up. This process of game playing goes on until the end of our journey of life when we cease to exist on this planet called earth.
Death is the most significant leveler, it never discriminates between intelligent, dumb head or mediocre, rich or poor, beautiful or ugly, happy or sad, young or old, theist or atheist. It is a life, which discriminates, always, at every step but it teaches us the value of patience, perseverance, humility, humanity, aggressiveness, ability to fight, strength to endure rough weathers and make us humane.
Those of us do not learn these things, leads a miserable life. Once we learn and practice these things in life, we love the best attributes of life and experience its subtleness. Love teaches us that losers are always the winner of the game of love. This makes our life a beautiful journey.
Let us make our journey of life a beautiful journey. Let us strive for it.
After writing this blog, I took out another pen from my penholder kept it on my table.
A dark green ink pen with white metal cover is in my hand. On the chariot of memories attached to this pen, I suddenly reached the year 1972, Varanasi City. I was due to appear for my first Class Mine Manager's Examination in the mining engineering department of BHU.
It was evening time. Ira and I were sitting on the left side of the second step from the top on the Bank of river Ganges. Surroundings were melancholic. At some distance towards our right, a dead body was burning. The River Ganges was flowing quietly in front of us. As the evening descended, people started coming and sitting on the steps of Gange's Bank. The hustle and bustle were increasing all around. I was immersed in these surroundings.
Suddenly Ira turned and asked, "Why do we live?"
I was taken aback by her question. I stared at her face while thinking about the answer to her question. I could not think of an answer.
I took her hand in my hand and said, " I am living to keep these hands in my hands forever, for the whole life. I wish to live to hear my name from your beautiful lips forever. I wish to live to hear your sweet melodious voice. I want to remain entrapped in your big magical eyes. I want to live with you forever."
Ira laughed, "Your habit of playing with words is still intact."
Ira was my friend. We knew each other from school days. She was exquisite. She had long black hair, big eyes, melodic voice. Her hands were soft. It was a pleasure to hold her delicate soft well-manicured hands. She was not only pretty but also intelligent and witty. Whenever we met, she was becoming bubbly and vivacious. She changed into a chirping machine. She seldom remained quiet. She was talking and talking. I enjoyed her talks and her moods very much. Ira was in the final year of MBBS in Banaras Hindu University. We rarely met because we were studying in different cities and different states. We rarely wrote letters to each other, but whenever we met, we talked and argued about trivial, irrelevant matters like today. In fact, it is our old habit.
Once I asked her, "What do you think, love is?"
Without awaiting a second, Ira replied "convenience."
Perplexed, I asked her "What do you mean?"
She laughed and said, "Whatever you heard."
"Do you think like that about love?" I asked her.
"Am I not correct?" she said.
I said nothing.
"Don't you feel like that?" Ira asked again.
"No, I don't think so."
"You are thinking about the plutonic love. Bullshit. Women look beautiful, lovely, awesome, alluring, desiring, divine so on so forth till she is or does not become a household commodity. After that better don't ask." She said
In a general sense, she was right. If anyone loses anything, he always regards it as a precious thing, but if anyone possess something valuable then after some time, it loses its sheen. It becomes an ordinary commodity, worthless, a part of one’s collection.
"No, I don't agree with you. Even the thought of a beloved fills the heart with joy. Her closeness, her voice, her touch not only fills the heart with delight but also soothes the soul. Time can never change it. Love nurtures, love makes life beautiful. Love is bondage between two souls. Love is divine."
"Poet sir, at present, I need a cup of tea. Do something for that. We will discuss it later."
"As you wish, your Majesty."
Ira often called me Mr. Poet or Poet sir, and I called her madam or Devi Ji. We always discussed some irrational, irrelevant or trivial topics. We rarely called each other by our names. When we met, we discussed trivial issues, and we enjoyed it very much. Her closeness and her voice cast a spell on me. I enjoyed every moment of her. I always wished it should remain forever. I never thought about the life without her, and she also thought alike.
Riverbank was now lit up with bright light. It appeared as if someone has transformed the scene by murmuring the magical charm “ABRACADABRA." Colorful reflection of surroundings in quietly running water of the river Ganges was looking divine. The hustles bustle around was like a dream as if everyone has woken up from their slumber. There were sounds of bells and hymns of mantra all around. We were lost in these divine surroundings for a while. Suddenly I took Ira's hand in my hand, "You know Ira, we live to keep this divine moment, preserved in our memory forever."
"Well said Poet sir but now let us go back. Tomorrow you have your exam." Ira told me.
We left for BHU.
On the way, I saw a fountain pen shop. I purchased this pen, which is in my hand now,
"So, you still buy a new pen for your exam. And after examination you never use it?" Ira asked.
I replied, "Yes, madam."
"And how long you will keep continuing this?" Ira asked.
I replied, "Pray, may this Exam be the last Exam."
"Then promise, you will give me this pen," Ira asked.
I replied, "I will give you this pen after my exam."
And I purchased this pen, which is in my hand. In fact, it was Ira's choice.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Visit: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/711638 to purchase this book to continue reading. Show the author you appreciate their work!
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