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Wonderful Story…

A must read for all Professionals..... Please read it even though its long....  
It would be really worthy....


        ‘You have done a brilliant work Rajesh. You have been given….rrrrhhhhh……Raaaajjjeeeessshhhh………… Raaaajjjeeeessshhhh .’- what!! I woke up from a sudden jerk. ‘Raaajeeessshhh… .’…I heard my wife yelling. What’s w/ her? Always yelling for something or the other. I can’t be in peace even in my dreams. Shucks!! Angrily, I kicked my blanket and got down. ‘Raaajesssh….’  ‘Coming Meera..what’s w/ you. Why are you shouting like this..’. 
  
        I hurried down the stairs.  I saw Meera, my sweet(??!!) wife, sitting in the couch giving breakfast to my 7yr old daughter  Achala. Both looked happy, watching TV.  I got confused at the whole scenario. I came running down, expecting some kind of earthquake, but instead here everything was in place. I looked at my wife & daughter. She smiled at me back.  Now, I more got confused, what’s happening here? Am I in a dream? 
  
        ‘Meera…’ 
        ‘Yeah Rajesh…’ 
        ‘You called me. In fact yelled.’ 
        ‘Yes. You are right!’ 
        ‘Everything is fine here right? Why you screamed like that then…’ 
        ‘It’s ‘cos it’s going to be 8am now.’ 
  
        I couldn’t understand what she was trying to say. Is she playing some kind of prank? Is this the time for all these? I have to be in office by 9am for a meeting. 
  
        ‘Yes. It’s going to be 8am.Right! So…?’ 
        ‘Rajesh, don’t tell me, you forgot…today is 27th ‘ 
        ‘27th..What 27th? 
        ‘Don’t tell me you don’t remember?’ 
  
        Meera gave me an ‘I’ll kill you’ look. Is it her birthday? No it’s somewhere at the year end. Is it my daughter’s? No no , we celebrated last month only right. Got it. Should be our Anniversary. 

        ‘Hey Meera, How will I forget our Anniversary…’ 
        ‘Whaattttttt? ???….Anniversaryy yyy???…..’ 
  
        Got it. It’s not our anniversary. Before I get killed…What’s w/ 27th. What ?? what?? Come on Rajesh!! Think. Nothing hit my mind. I looked at my daughter for a clue. She turned her face away. 

        What’s with all women? Why can’t they be straight forward & say things. With so much work pressure, how on earth I am supposed to remember all the dates?. If I say something, then Meera will pick up a fight, and I will miss the meeting, my whole day will be gone. I made up my mind to surrender. 

        ‘Meera, Sorry, I don’t remember. This medicine I am taking for cough, Something happened..my memory is deteriorating ..What’s today?’  Meera doesn’t seem like buying that excuse from me. 
  
        ‘Meera, please tell me’ I asked in a pitiable tone.. 

        ‘Rajesh..You don’t remember at all?’  I moved my head left & right meaning NO. I kept my face like I am a patient suffering from ‘amnesia'. 
  
        'Rajesh, As part of annual day celebrations, today is 'Daddy's Day' in Acchu's school. I have been telling you for the past 3 weeks. Now don’t tell me you forgot. You already promised that you will go with her to her school' 

        I couldn’t believe that I accepted for something like that. 'Meeraa..did I??' 
        'Yes. You did' 
        ‘at what time it starts..?' 
        'By 8:30am and ends at 1pm'. 
  
        Gosh!! 9am!! I have such a critical meeting. How I will attend all these. 
        “Meera, you could have reminded me yesterday right?’ 
        
        ‘Oh I didn’t remind you? Great. I didn’t call to your office. Or remind you in the evening and before going to bed’ 

        Might be I wouldn’t have heard it. Or slipped out of my memory. Whatever!! 
  
        'Meera! Can’t you attend all these. Why should I??' 
        "Rajesh. It’s Daddy's Day!...DADDY'ss!!!!!' 
        'Oh yeah....but. ..' 
        'But what????...' 
        'errrh....might be some other day...' 
        'What? You want the school to postpone the function?' 
        'No..No…actually. .what..I am saying is..' 

        'What Rajesh??? What?? Tell me. You promised Acchu and are you going to disappoint her? ' 
  
        I stood there totally helpless. I looked at my daughter. She was all dressed up and ready to go. She looked like, she will cry any time. I saw Meera. She gave me a murderous look. I thought for a moment and my mind raced with many calculations. Important meeting. I can’t miss for sure. Half a day is too much. So many deliverables will get affected. I can’t face Meera again if I don’t go. Might be I can postpone the meeting by an hour and for name sake visit that function and escape to office. 

        'Meera, I will go, but I can spend only 1 hour..' 

        'No...that’s not..' 
  
        Before Meera finished the sentence, Acchu rushed to me 'Thanks daddy. 1hour. Mom, 1hour is enough mom. Please don’t fight mom. Daddy, get ready soon..' she nudged me. 

        ‘Do you know her school name and the route for the school or you want me to tell???’ Asking that Meera threw me an angry look and left the living room. I rushed up, got ready. Called my manager & told that I got stuck in traffic jam and postponed the meeting to 10am. 

        I took Achala to her school. I felt somehow entering the school, ‘cos it’s the 2nd time, I am entering her school. In fact 1st time. I once dropped her outside her school gate. The school had a big playground, Small Park with all kids playing equipments. Some stalls were put up. So many kids with their fathers moved around here & there.  Suddenly I felt some one touching my hand 

        ‘Are you achala’s daddy?’ – A small kid asked. She had curly hair and bubbly smile. 
        ‘Yes,,,My Daddy..…’ – Achala responded in an excited tone. 

        And some kids ran towards me and Achala started introducing everyone. 
        ‘Daddy! this is Rohit, this is zakir, Anis, Sylvia, Divya..’ – I told hello to everyone. 
        ‘Daddy, Daddy, Zakir is my best friend.’ – I smiled at that cute blue eyed boy. 
        ‘Uncle, Acchu told that you have so much work and you won’t be able to come. She told she won’t come in today. You don’t have work Uncle?’ – Zakir asked me. 

        I suddenly felt very bad on how my daughter has understood me. ‘No Zakir, I don’t have work’ 

        ‘Daddy, they are calling for the games. ‘ . Zakir ran to his father and waved his hands at me & achala. I took achala by hand and walked towards the stage. They were announcing the 1st game. Fathers will be given a sheet containing questions about their kids.  Fathers have to fill about their kids which will be verified with the kids response. 

        Achala was all excited about the game and she was all set to go. But I felt shivers. I looked at my daughter. Suddenly, I felt very far from her, and the reality hit me, that I don’t know anything about my very own daughter. I blurted out ‘Acchu..we will attend the next game..This one ..’ She gave me a deep stare. I thought she is going to cry or shout or do something. But instead she pulled out a small paper from her jeans pocket and gave it to me. Completely baffled, I opened the sheet. 

        My name is Achala. My birthday March 21st. I am 7yrs old. I like butterfly. Superman. Dairy milk. painting. dancing. I am in  1st standard A section. I like Dora. Mango. Apple. Fried rice. Jelly. I don’t like banana. I drink  boost.. I like yellow color. My nick name is ‘Honey dew’ 

        And the list went on with small, small spelling mistakes. I looked at Acchu. ‘Daddy, read it, I know they will keep this game. So I wrote it 2 days back itself, to give you if you come. If they ask anything about me, write there. Ok Now go & attend the game’. Most of the things, my daughter has written & gave me, I never knew anything about it. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. I went to the stage waved my hand to Acchu and got the question sheet. 

        Since Acchu gave the sheet, I came to know about her & I answered almost all the questions. Then they asked Acchu on stage and asked the questions to her. We got the 2nd highest mark in that game. Acchu came running towards me and hugged me. They gave a ‘toy guitar’. Everyone congratulated us. Thou’ I won that game, I felt like a loser. I know, I don’t deserve this. I don’t know anything about my daughter. 

        She looked very happy showing that guitar to her best friend, zakir. What a kid she is. Understanding that her dad is totally hopeless and don’t want to let her dad down, before others she prepared that sheet and gave to me. The lump in my throat started getting bigger and my heart became heavy. I caressed her hair. What a beautiful smile she has and such big eyes. 

        Does she miss a wing to get qualified as an angel? I have never admired my daughter or even watched her in all these years. She has that cute dimple of Meera’s as well as her eyes. Does that curling lip edges when she smiles, is mine? How I missed all this in my life. 

        Achala pulled me to the stalls there and I got some eatables and ballons for her and zakir.. She kept talking about the next game and suddenly my mobile rang. Oops!! Is it already 10am. I looked at Acchu . Suddenly her face became dark. She looked totally upset and asked in an low voice ‘Daddy! You have to leave now?’ 

        I looked at my mobile. My manager was calling. It’s already 10am. I looked at Acchu. I looked around. All those happy kids with their fathers. I thought about my school days, where my dad used to come for all sports day, annual day, sit with me, cheer me up. Every day morning, while dropping me to school, he will wait near the gate until my head disappear. Evening, he will come & pick me up in his cycle, and I will be telling him all the stories that happened that day in school. 

        I saw Acchu. How many untold stories my daughter has kept in her heart to say me? I thought about all those days, where I yearned for a girl child and I wonder, how much of my time I gave her. 

        I pulled her closer, gave a kiss on her fore head ‘No Honey! I am not going. I will be here only…we will attend all games and roam around whole day.ok?’ 

        ‘Really?’ – She asked in an unbelievable tone.
        ‘Yes sweetz’ 
        ‘Thank you Daddy!’ – Achala kissed my cheeks and ran to her friends. School teaches you something or the other always. This time, ‘back to school’ has taught me a wonderful life’s lesson. I called my manager & told that am running high fever and can’t come in today. 

        I know, I can handle things tomorrow. Today my daughter needs me more than anyone can need me in this world. With a lighter heart, I got up; ran towards Acchu, lifted her and gave her a big swing. She erupted into an uncontrollable laughter. The lump in my throat started melting away.
 
Life is often misinterpreted…
We work to live and not live to work…
Search the real meaning of Life…
 
               There was a Nebraska farmer who grew award-winning corn. Each year he entered his corn in the state fair where it won a blue ribbon... One year a newspaper reporter interviewed him and learned something interesting about how he grew it. The reporter discovered that the farmer shared his seed corn with his neighbors. 

                "How can you afford to share your best seed corn with your neighbors when they are entering corn in competition with yours each year?" the reporter asked.

                "Why sir," said the farmer, "didn't you know? The wind picks up pollen from the ripening corn and swirls it from field to field. If my neighbors grow inferior corn, cross-pollination will steadily degrade the quality of my corn. If I am to grow good corn, I must help my neighbors grow good corn."

He is very much aware of the connectedness of life. His corn cannot improve unless his neighbor's corn also improves.

So it is in other dimensions.

Those who choose to be at peace must help their neighbors to be at peace.
Those who choose to live well must help others to live well, for the value of a life is measured by the lives it touches. 
Those who choose to be happy must help others to find happiness for the welfare of each is bound up with the welfare of all.


The lesson for each of us is this  
      "If we are to grow good corn, we must help our neighbors grow good corn."


 
The Window

        Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man  was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

        The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and   families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military  service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the  man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

        The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where  his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and  color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while  children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite  detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

        One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.  Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive  words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: Why should hehave all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see  anything? It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt  ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He   began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that  window - and that thought now controlled his life.

        Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window  began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man   watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking  stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only silence--deathly silence.

        The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away--no  words, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he  could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

        Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his   first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.

Moral of the story:

The pursuit of happiness is a matter of choice...it is a positive attitude we consciously choose to express. It is not a gift that gets delivered to our doorstep each morning, nor does it come through the window. And I am certain that our circumstances are just a small part of what makes us joyful. If we wait for them to get just right, we will never find lasting joy.

The pursuit of happiness is an inward journey. Our minds are like programs, awaiting the code that will determine behaviors; like bank vaults awaiting our deposits. If we regularly deposit positive, encouraging, and uplifting thoughts, if we continue to bite our lips  just before we begin to grumble and complain, if we shoot down that seemingly harmless negative thought as it germinates, we will find that there is much to rejoice about.


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