This site is as about the inspiration I get, as I am designed to get, where faith and conviction are my two flowers, which receive light when asked to God.
Bread Crumbs.
Birds like bread crumbs.
So do I.
Am I a bird?
Definitely not.
It’s unfair to compare me with a bird.
The little sparrow,my friend,
Says-“There is no harm in being called a bird.”
Birds are better than many humans”.
The bread crumbs make a great combination with omellete,
And with the tasty dal which Ma makes,
They taste heavenly.
Bread crumbs are bread crumbs.
Whether you like them or not.
But if you are a nice human,
Then you definitely will.
Adios!
Throughout the night,
The rain splashed on my window.
It didn’t pitter-patter,
But made a lot of sound.
When the thunder roared,
It made a great deal of noise.
It was so terrifying,
That I went under my covers,
And slept soundly,
Throughout the remaining of the night.
But the next night,
It roared again.
I didn’t get terrified.
Instead I plugged in a pair of ear plugs,
And slept happily,
Throughout the night.
Adios!
A bird comes on my windowsill,
And sings a song.
Sometimes, I give her a biscuit,
Sometimes bread crumbs.
She doesn’t eat anything but fresh.
Whenever it rains,
I find her taking shelter below the window shed.
The window appears to be her home,
For most of the day,
As throughout the night,
She sleeps in her nest,
Which she has built on a nearby tree.
Tomorrow morning, when she comes,
I would definitely tell her that,
I have written a post about her.
She will eat those bread crumbs with more gusto and may sing a few more beautiful songs.
Adios!
A painter who, when young, used to paint for a pound or two. In those days, a pound or two for a painting was enough. But after two or three decades, his paintings found a lesser clientele as people ventured into buying other art forms.
Every once in a while, one or two of his paintings got sold. Soon he started selling chocolates alongside his paintings.
He went home and began giving art lessons to children, and he would get a few shillings for each child for every class that he used to teach them.
After a month, the village school authorities contacted him and he got a job there as a drawing teacher.
All the students used to attend his classes sincerely and he too would teach them drawing, sketching and painting sincerely.
Unknown to all, he used to keep a diary from the day he began selling his first painting. His name was Martin and, on the diary, in calligraphy writing he had written Martin’s diary. The diary was given to him by his father. He had learnt calligraphy from his mother.
He used to make sketches in it, and drew. When he began teaching at the school, by that time he had filled ten diaries with his sketches.
Now thirty years have passed.
His grandson, Joseph while looking for his ball in the attic, pulled out a trunk from a corner. He was astonished to see such an old trunk in his home. He opened it and a gust of dust hit him in the nose. He gave out two loud sneezes.
Inside the trunk were twelve diaries and each of them were covered with a cloth.
He dusted off the dirt of a diary and was very astonished to see the word- “Martin’s Diary No.7”.
His grandfather was sitting in the garden sipping his evening tea, when he rushed into the garden and showed Martin his old diary.
Martin looked at his old diary in disbelief. He had not thought about them in a long while and had nearly completely forgotten about them.
Joseph looked incredulously at his grandfather and said- “Grandpa is this diary yours?”
Martin took some time to answer
Martin- “Yes, little Joseph. It belongs to me. A long time ago, I used to keep record of my daily activities.”
Martin opened his diary with great reverence and respect and found his old drawings. Seeing those marvelous sketches, tears ran down his cheek.
By this time Joseph had called his parents. Edmund (Martin’s son) couldn’t bear the sight of tears in his father’s eyes and hugged him tightly. Edmund had seen those diaries in his childhood. He too had a nostalgia of his childhood. He remembered his childhood days when his father used to draw a small sketch on every page with a little pencil.
Edmund too began crying like a small child. Those were beautiful days for him. Then and there he decided to preserve the diaries with great care, so that they won’t remain locked in a trunk anymore.
Martin took each of his diaries, cleaned the dust of each of them and placed them on his bedside table.
That night he dreamt of his youth days, where he used to sell drawings for a pound or two.
Adios!
A small boy named Mathew had gone to the park with his mother.Few days back she had bought him a set of colour pencils.
Mathew went and sat on a bench. On his lap was his colouring book. His mother Rita was arranging a small picnic for him nearby.He was constantly under her gaze.
He had just finished colouring the leg of the lion when five minutes later a ball came and touched his legs and he got momentarily disturbed and the pencil fell down from his hand onto the bench .
He began colouring and at that moment he felt an extreme pride in the fact that he was colouring a lion.
Mathew gave the ball back to the boy to whom it belonged and started searching for his pencil.
But he couldn’t find it. The pencil had simply disappeared.
Taking his colour pencil set and colouring book in his hand, he ran to his mother.
Rita on seeing him running so fast, took him in her arms and said-“What happened dear?”-
Mathew-“Ma,my colour pencil fell on the bench and I can’t find it anymore.”
Rita took his hand in her hand and went to the bench.
She asked him-“Which colour pencil did you lose?”
Him-“Yellow colour pencil Ma”.
The bench too was yellow in colour and the painting on it was done recently.
His mother searched here and there for the pencil, but she too couldn’t find it.She had searched for it everywhere.Aside,below and above, but couldn’t find it.
Msthew-” Ma, the pencil fell on the bench”.
She couldn’t see an inch of that pencil on the bench.
Then a brilliant idea came to her.She switched on the torch light of her mobile phone and checked every minute long gap in the bench.The bench was old fashioned and it had long minute gaps in it.
At last her torch light shown upon the pencil which was hidden due to being yellow in colour.
When she gave him back the pencil, the joy on Mathew’s face was priceless.He danced up and down with joy and gave his mother a big kiss.
Rita too gave him a big kiss and they both enjoyed their picnic and went home back happily.
Adios!
Before You Travel. 