Wednesday, 27 August 2014

Death

How important is human life?

How death can be measured, the duration of the occurrence of death or duration of the process of the death. That how long death occurs in a person before he is a corpse?

If a person underwent extreme torture, unlimited tortures but still not died and got cured totally. Was it death or its part? Perhaps 'measurement of death' can give the answer?

We can identify death. But how to identify death?

Is death is a disease? A sudden occurring disease like heart attack or a long, bleak and enduring one like cancer and AIDS.

Death is not sudden to everyone. In some it starts occurring hours before or days before. Different durations and intervals in different people. 

Great Stories You Haven't read: The Trimmed Lamp by O. Henry

We usually pick anything to read which is famous and is on everybodies' tongue. But there are still a great deal of things which have been forgotten and archived. And hardly anyone refers them to you. Like this short story by O. Henry- The Trimmed Lamp. Lets guess how you know O. Henry, maybe by some of his few famous stories like, The Gift of Maggi and Red Ransom Thief. OK now note this in your mind that O. Henry is as much known for his good stories as much he is known for his excellent, complex, moving, and motivating writing skill. His every sentence seems to inform and inspire. So now you'll see why this story you should read despite of it being not popular. Here are a few lines from the story which will make you stop reading between them and ponder for a while and say 'O My...'

1. Of course there are two sides to the question. Let us look at the other. We often hear "shop-girls" spoken of. No such persons exist. There are girls who work in shops. They make their living that way. But why turn their occupation into an adjective? Let us be fair. We do not refer to the girls who live on Fifth Avenue as "marriage-girls."

2. I do not suppose that many look upon a great department store as an educational institution. But the one in which Nancy worked was something like that to her. She was surrounded by beautiful things that breathed of taste and refinement. If you live in an atmosphere of luxury, luxury is yours whether your money pays for it, or another's. The people she served were mostly women whose dress, manners, and position in the social world were quoted as criterions. From them Nancy began to take toll—the best from each according to her view. From one she would copy and practice a gesture, from another an eloquent lifting of an eyebrow, from others, a manner of walking, of carrying a purse, of smiling, of greeting a friend, of addressing "inferiors in station." From her best beloved model, Mrs. Van Alstyne Fisher, she made requisition for that excellent thing, a soft, low voice as clear as silver and as perfect in articulation as the notes of a thrush. Suffused in the aura of this high social refinement and good breeding, it was impossible for her to escape a deeper effect of it. As good habits are said to be better than good principles, so, perhaps, good manners are better than good habits. The teachings of your parents may not keep alive your New England conscience; but if you sit on a straight-back chair and repeat the words "prisms and pilgrims" forty times the devil will flee from you. And when Nancy spoke in the Van Alstyne Fisher tones she felt the thrill of noblesse oblige to her very bones. There was another source of learning in the great departmental school. Whenever you see three or four shop-girls gather in a bunch and jingle their wire bracelets as an accompaniment to apparently frivolous conversation, do not think that they are there for the purpose of criticizing the way Ethel does her back hair. The meeting may lack the dignity of the deliberative bodies of man; but it has all the importance of the occasion on which Eve and her first daughter first put their heads together to make Adam understand his proper place in the household. It is Woman's Conference for Common Defense and Exchange of Strategical Theories of Attack and Repulse upon and against the World, which is a Stage, and Man, its Audience who Persists in Throwing Bouquets Thereupon. Woman, the most helpless of the young of any animal—with the fawn's grace but without its fleetness; with the bird's beauty but without its power of flight; with the honey-bee's burden of sweetness but without its—Oh, let's drop that simile—some of us may have been stung. During this council of war they pass weapons one to another, and exchange stratagems that each has devised and formulated out of the tactics of life. "I says to 'im," says Sadie, "ain't you the fresh thing! Who do you suppose I am, to be addressing such a remark to me? And what do you think he says back to me?" The heads, brown, black, flaxen, red, and yellow bob together; the answer is given; and the parry to the thrust is decided upon, to be used by each thereafter in passages-at-arms with the common enemy, man. Thus Nancy learned the art of defense; and to women successful defense means victory. The curriculum of a department store is a wide one. Perhaps no other college could have fitted her as well for her life's ambition—the drawing of a matrimonial prize. Her station in the store was a favored one. The music room was near enough for her to hear and become familiar with the works of the best composers—at least to acquire the familiarity that passed for appreciation in the social world in which she was vaguely trying to set a tentative and aspiring foot. She absorbed the educating influence of art wares, of costly and dainty fabrics, of adornments that are almost culture to women.

3. and (He) wooed her across the counter with a King Cophetua air.

4. These high ideas, if not ideals—Nancy continued to cultivate on $8. per week. She bivouacked on the trail of the great unknown "catch," eating her dry bread and tightening her belt day by day. On her face was the faint, soldierly, sweet, grim smile of the preordained man-hunter. The store was her forest; and many times she raised her rifle at game that seemed broad-antlered and big; but always some deep unerring instinct—perhaps of the huntress, perhaps of the woman—made her hold her fire and take up the trail again.

5. To Nancy's superior taste the flavor of these ready-made pleasures was sometimes a little bitter: but she was young; and youth is a gourmand, when it cannot be a gourmet.

6. But, another lesson she learned, perhaps unconsciously. Her standard of values began to shift and change. Sometimes the dollar-mark grew blurred in her mind's eye, and shaped itself into letters that spelled such words as "truth" and "honor" and now and then just "kindness." Let us make a likeness of one who hunts the moose or elk in some mighty wood. He sees a little dell, mossy and embowered, where a rill trickles, babbling to him of rest and comfort. At these times the spear of Nimrod himself grows blunt. So, Nancy wondered sometimes if Persian lamb was always quoted at its market value by the hearts that it covered.

7. And then Lou looked, and saw that something better than prosperity had descended upon Nancy—something that shone brighter than gems in her eyes and redder than a rose in her cheeks, and that danced like electricity anxious to be loosed from the tip of her tongue.

Wednesday, 11 June 2014

Conquering the Day

Venturing a day san mind ends kinda twisty. All unawaited storming at us lifting from our stability and centrifuging in a twister. Though we feel free, weightless but a fear of falling helther- skelter without any prior event premonitions. A thin blue line that keeps us on track like gravity holds us down, i.e., schedule. Then tracking our moves like a clairvoyant will not slave our thoughts? Where would be the adventure. Thus we be having no life's twists, which ironically we try to search in every story. No mother risks her child save Nature. Why it acts so unnatural. If quantum event is behined every happening then the saying-- "Everything happens for good." is wrong. Nature is random. In a task when there is a fear there is a risk to wager and then is the pleasure. It's just a day afterall we are taking about and not a 'Mission- Ring to Mordor.' But surely these little things daily blow our senses. And truely conquering these little things gives pure joy and makes us feel a winner.

Saturday, 14 December 2013

My Moments

It was a free day and I and Osama were like where to and we finally hung here. This place was like So much peaceful and kinda feeling as we were in Goa. We had some exotic variants  of pastas then concluded  with some jasmine  tea. It proved  to be a perfect Sunday outing.

Wednesday, 6 November 2013

Afterlife On Earth

I feel as if I'm in exile. The world around me looks like a post-apocalypse. Sky is spreading black. My face pale. I am looking for water, searchong for it everywhere. None drop I got to satisfy me. I felt very dry. The desert around me seemed less dry. The bare rocks everywhere, emitted heat energies which made my eyes swollen. I couldn't sit or lie down anywhere.

Suddenly I saw a big tall pole- abandoned. Wires all messed around it especially on top. Dah, I am not the only one wrecked here. Ah, the wind was stroking like a sand-paper. Too rough, too posh. All of a sudden I felt something behind me and turned, "Ah, a comrade!"

He came near me and we embraced each other. So warm. At last God gave me hope to live. But soon his embrace grew tighter and tighter. I felt like I was being strangled. In the blurring heat I can see his whole face, his teeth. He is not a man, not now, but he was before. Now he is just A WALKING DEAD. I opened my mouth and said, "Stop comrade, I'm not a man!"

Wednesday, 2 October 2013

Brighten Like a Moon

Millions of stars in the sky,
But who stares them
Rise and shine all the night,
Still can't remove the darkness.

One lonely moon comes
Spreading its rays
Cooling everyone's eyes
Fills every mind with elixir. 

This world is very big,
Filled with humans
Everyone's a little star
Become a moon and brighten.

                 ---Translated By
                      Arshad Usmani
                     (From hindi primary school poem-
                       'Ban Ke Chand Karo Ujiyara')         

Tuesday, 1 October 2013

Dear Diary #2

Sep 29, 13, Sun
Dear diary as today was passing a Sunday I wanted to make it worthwhile which I had failed to accomplish the week before. Beginning it with a heavy slumber leading to acute gaming on phone I finally perched on my reading spot. I started to read As Eagles Fly by Barbara Cartland from where I left it yesternight. The book was like a journey wound round mountains and jumping and thumping upon and down the ravines. And the love story.. Oh My.. Barbara Cartland always been an expert at demands, negotiations and exchanges in the matters of heart. Completing the book I went for a feast of some fresh air. Went to a mall, visited to a 'Rs. 99' Store and then returned. It was now time when I decided to pick some and I picked an old comic book Web of Mysteries #2 and read a story from it. Dah! the usual vampire story. So passe that it were sounding redundant. Freeing from it was time for some grammer lessons. Read a few lines about adjunct and then translated some sentences. So here I am again dear diary to talk to you. It's how cosy telling you all these, all these daily stuffs. Bye, will return again on next Suday. Good Night!