<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808968742953886058</id><updated>2024-08-30T09:38:56.053-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My world-thoughtful,unexplored and very REAL</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>sank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18438317544489586930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMtBnfHy11Komsq3Y-1_qk3QPmsb2B0aqUQNbwOkT1M1dsN57w0Ew3vOHTMk02aLNHkqc8ZAWZWuco0oIFWlEppHPjdHWZFEpajVGPxfDLq8BcHtI2YxNWR0R2ZlyODw/s1600/*'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808968742953886058.post-4641365515860708980</id><published>2022-02-12T02:10:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2022-02-12T02:10:40.022-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE STORY OF &quot;ME&quot;</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&amp;nbsp;I am 31 year old guy, living an average life, working in an average Job and dreaming the same dreams that I had when I was 23, without putting any substantial efforts towards achieving those dreams.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The purpose of this book is not to help you achieve those dreams which you all must have been dreamt but it is rather to re-align your dreams to live a genuinely rich(not just monetarily) life. I am going to do so, by re-aligning my own dreams with things that actually matter and hope you get inspired by to do the same reading this.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;To do the above, I am going to apply the &quot;Benjamin Button&quot; model of analysis. Let me explain what I mean by that, I mean, I am going to&amp;nbsp; start my life as a 70 year old and look at my life from there. I am going to imagine the best version of me at 70, the version that is going to make me feel happy and content with all that I have done in my life and then, I am going to introspect with my present situation and judge whethter or not I would be able to reach the best version of me by 70. So here I being.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;At 70, I am fit and strong, capable of walking, running and learning new things. I continue to wonder at the extent of my love for shruti. In her i find my Joy more than in any other thing or person. She has helped me live my life fully. We have travelled together, discovered places and shared experiences through this life time. I hope, at least now, she would believe that we are soulmates and we will meet again in the next birth.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&amp;nbsp;I still have the drive to be better, to give back more to the world and to love the one&#39;s whom I love deeply. I am financially independent. I am travelling and exploring new places and things and doing so still excites me. I have kids and grand kids that I am proud of. They have turned out well. Almost better than what I would have myself hoped for. I have travelled most of the world, I have written best selling books, I have written great poetry, I have also written great movies, I have learnt to direct, I have played football till I was 60, I have enjoyed training several players, I have coached a football team successfully, I have been there for my friends and loved ones whenever they needed me and travelled with them across places. I have rested and learnt the value of rest, i have worked and learnt the importance of earning. I have lead the bank to its pinnacle and grown professionally through it. I have achieved perfect health.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;To realize all of the above, I need to do the following :&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;1.I must survive till 70, I must eat well&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;2.&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/feeds/4641365515860708980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2022/02/the-story-of-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/4641365515860708980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/4641365515860708980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2022/02/the-story-of-me.html' title='THE STORY OF &quot;ME&quot;'/><author><name>sank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18438317544489586930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMtBnfHy11Komsq3Y-1_qk3QPmsb2B0aqUQNbwOkT1M1dsN57w0Ew3vOHTMk02aLNHkqc8ZAWZWuco0oIFWlEppHPjdHWZFEpajVGPxfDLq8BcHtI2YxNWR0R2ZlyODw/s1600/*'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808968742953886058.post-4957277344183206630</id><published>2016-11-19T23:22:00.010-08:00</published><updated>2016-11-20T00:01:33.561-08:00</updated><title type='text'>SHORT STORY - III</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;h3 style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;u&gt;JUDGEMENT&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was awakened by a rambling from outside.It was my neighbour, a 65 year old woman, screaming at someone. I opened the window to hear her clearly. Her voice was shrill, her curses and abuses heart-felt. It was as if it provided her with her catharsis at the cost of butchering the other person. I wondered who this other person was, It must have been someone close to her who had caused her so much pain that she couldn&#39;t restraint herself. And then i heard her say, &quot; You have ruined my entire life?&quot; There was no response to that, nobody replied back, just faint sounds of other persons groaning or perhaps sobbing. I thought it was her husband. May be he had abandoned her and returned now. May be it was her own parents, who got her married against her wishes. I couldn&#39;t be sure, but i was curious to know. For some reason, people&#39;s emotions attracted me, especially the sad one&#39;s. My thought chain got interrupted because of a din , formed out of utensils falling, It was followed by loud cry from someone. They were different from human cries, It was as if somebody&#39;s mouth has been strapped with a cloth though not tightly enough to stop them to make sounds. The neighbour continued abusing the other person. The whole building was alarmed and had taken the notice of this now, and the intensity of the lady&#39;s screams had picked up, there were sounds of things falling, being thrown, the victim of her abuse was sobbing louder than ever, people had started to approach their door to stop something terrible from happening and just then it all stopped.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
The door slowly opened. A girl may be twenty year old or so, with visibly unnatural body structure and facial arrangement appeared on a wheel chair being pushed by a hospital nurse. As they made their way through the corridor towards the lift, I looked inside the house through the open door. There she was, my neighbour, head buried in her hands on dinning table crying. Everybody dispersed back into their houses as the ambulance drove out of the building.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
In the evening, after i returned from work, my mom told me how everybody in the building were discussing about the incident in the morning. Most of them, deriding my neighbour for sending her mentally ill daughter to a mental institution. How they thought, it was so cruel and unjust on her part to get rid of her like that. My facial expressions conveyed i didn&#39;t want to hear more, and so she stopped narrating further. I finished my dinner and went to bed. I woke up in middle of night, again with the sobbing sound from neighbour. I tried to ignore the sound, it was discerning, i wanted to stay indifferent to it but it was getting difficult. I took my phone and plugged in my earphones to loud music and slept.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
The next morning i was in a rush to get to office. I skipped my breakfast, took steps instead of lift and hurried downwards, as i stepped outside the building, I heard a cry from above, I looked up and by that time, it was down. My neighbours body, beside me, in a pool of blood. I stood rooted in that place, fear-struck.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin: 0px;&quot;&gt;
Now, when i reflect back on to the happenings of that day, I realise, her soul had already left her body with the ambulance the previous day of her suicide. She proved the people right, it was cruel and unjust on her part to get rid of it that way.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/feeds/4957277344183206630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/11/short-story-iii_10.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/4957277344183206630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/4957277344183206630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/11/short-story-iii_10.html' title='SHORT STORY - III'/><author><name>sank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18438317544489586930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMtBnfHy11Komsq3Y-1_qk3QPmsb2B0aqUQNbwOkT1M1dsN57w0Ew3vOHTMk02aLNHkqc8ZAWZWuco0oIFWlEppHPjdHWZFEpajVGPxfDLq8BcHtI2YxNWR0R2ZlyODw/s1600/*'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808968742953886058.post-8752865228434116635</id><published>2016-04-08T23:45:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2016-04-09T01:44:28.560-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SHORT STORY - II</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;h2 style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &lt;u&gt;HOPE&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;We are going to die tomorrow, they will cut our tongue, chop our fingers and burn us alive!.Are you not afraid Jonathan?&quot;, I asked.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&amp;nbsp;He looked at me with his usual calm gaze from across his cell and said &quot; They will save us Albert. King Rand will not let his best spies die so easily. Me, I am at-least replaceable but you are invaluable to him. No one in the whole of kingdom can match your intelligence Albert. He will have us saved, I know&quot;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;Its only a matter of few hours now Jonathan. I don&#39;t see it happening. If they had to come they would have by now. We must try to escape or should die by ourselves before the dawn. I don&#39;t want to have a painful death.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;We can&#39;t escape, the guards are everywhere, the keys are with the chief guard himself. I can&#39;t see any way to escape but I know we will be saved Albert. King Rand&#39;s men will save us. Don&#39;t lose hope. Don&#39;t talk of killing yourself. Suicide is for cowards, Albert. Don&#39;t be a coward&quot;, pleaded Jonathan.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;Suicide is not cowardly my friend. Its just another choice amongst many choices. We humans have unlimited freedom, unlimited choices. To think what we want, to do what we want, but we are so scared to accept our freedom that we have ourselves bonded us to societal, traditional, and spiritual boundaries. To moral and immoral divides. The fear of exercising wrong choice had lead us to build restrictions .We always have a choice to kill ourselves as the ancient stoics believed. Seneca once said &quot;can you no longer see a path to freedom?.Its right there.All you need to do is turnover your wrists!&quot;. I refuse to suffer while i die. I am better of killing myself than dying a gruesome death.&quot;, I said.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hope runs the world, Albert. I like to see my glass half full. We must never let the fire in us die. Even if there is a small chance, most negligible one, we must hope of it happening. we will survive this my friend. I know we will&quot;, said Jonathan in a more hopeful way, but with lesser confidence than earlier.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;You know Jonathan, as a kid I would always attempt to stop my breath for as long as possible to understand how it feels while one dies. I never managed to hold it for long enough, but I at least understood how powerless one would feel when air ceases to reach one&#39;s lungs. Over the years i watched executions, and understood that choking and dying is least painful of all other ways and since then I always carry a bottle of hem-lock around my waist.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a name=&#39;more&#39;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;Shhhh. Can you hear the footsteps?. Someone&#39;s coming upstairs.Pass me your robe quickly!&quot;, interrupted Jonathan. I passed my robe and he occupied the edge of his cell standing crossed with the robe held in both his hands.The sound of footsteps approaching grew louder. I looked at Jon and signalled three with my fingers. He ratified my claim and acknowledged with a thumbs up, moving closer the bars of his cell. I walked across to diametrically opposite edge of my cell to be able to see the guards emerging out. They were three of them, the Cheif guard in middle flanked by other two. The narrow path way separating both of our cells was just sufficient for three people to walk together. Jon was waiting with an anticipation of a wiper. I knew my part implicitly the moment he asked for my robe. A drop of cold sweat dropped from my brow on to my own feet.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
The guards were close now. Three more steps I said to myself. One.Two.And caught!.Jon pushed the robe onto one of the guard&#39;s neck and pulled him towards the bar. Startled, other two moved backwards coming closer to mine. I snatched the keys in that instant from Chief&#39;s waist and while they tried to release their man from Jon&#39;s grip I opened my cell and tuned their necks to send them to Satan. Jon had taken care of the third guard, We both started running downwards. Birds had started to chirp. It was dawn. Little time left to use my biggest aide, darkness,I thought.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
We found a door that lead to a huge pathway. All the windows we went past were closed. There were paintings hung on the wall, I would have spent hours on this pathway admiring them on any other occasion I thought. Within minutes we were at the end of it with &amp;nbsp;a circular dark pathway leading downwards And another well lit one on the left, leading up. Jon looked at me to know my choice. Before I could nod, We heard the footsteps from the path that went up. We immediately went downwards. Two helical turns later, We hit a wall!. Dead end it said, how ironical! I thought.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;Its over my friend. Its time for hem-lock&quot;, I said to Jon with a &amp;nbsp;smugly smile, emanating out of egoistic satisfaction of being right yet again. I removed the hem-lock attached to my waist band and gulped it as the first face appeared from the stairs of the enemy.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&quot;It ain&#39;t over Albert!. It ain&#39;t!&quot;, said Jon. He was right, it was King&#39;s Rand&#39;s soldier who had emerged &amp;nbsp;out of stairs.Some 9 of them I counted judging by footsteps out of habit. That was the last thing I saw before my death. Jon had tears in his eyes over my contorting body.My eyes shut. &quot;I told you King Rand will save us!&quot;, I heard that, imagining Jon wearing my smugly smile this time. I died.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
King Rand received a box by afternoon while he awaited anxiously for the triumphant return of his 9 soldiers &amp;nbsp;with Albert and Jon. He knew what was inside it. He didn&#39;t dare to look in and handed it over to his minister. His minister opened it, twenty eyeballs he recalled to his wife that night waking up from a nightmare. Twenty eye-balls.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/feeds/8752865228434116635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/04/hope.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/8752865228434116635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/8752865228434116635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/04/hope.html' title='SHORT STORY - II'/><author><name>sank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18438317544489586930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMtBnfHy11Komsq3Y-1_qk3QPmsb2B0aqUQNbwOkT1M1dsN57w0Ew3vOHTMk02aLNHkqc8ZAWZWuco0oIFWlEppHPjdHWZFEpajVGPxfDLq8BcHtI2YxNWR0R2ZlyODw/s1600/*'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808968742953886058.post-7566490192240796028</id><published>2016-03-19T00:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2016-03-19T02:57:16.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SHORT STORY - I</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;HAPPINESS&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;&quot;Hey, do you ever wonder about the big questions of life?, I asked Jenny. She looked at me puzzled and said &quot;Are you always this messed up? or only today!&quot; and we both broke into laughter. I laughed because she did, I didn&#39;t quite understand what was so funny about it nevertheless I acquiesced. May be it was the last rays of setting sun that made me happy, or perhaps I was in love with this girl as my friends would have me believe. I couldn&#39;t be sure, I never understood emotions generally,but i had laughed. Unintentionally, and unreasonably I had laughed. I started thinking about the &quot;why&quot; part of the question,but was disturbed by Jenny&#39;s immediate pat on my shoulder , she looked into my eyes and said &quot;don&#39;t start thinking again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;Tim!&quot;, I smiled this time and allowed myself to get drifted into trivial talks of our lives, about the hurtful past and hopeful future, about dreams and wishes, about fairies and Satan.It was our first date, we had spoken with each other only through messages until now or had only met with others along. This was the first time, I was with her, alone. And it felt strange, I was happy, I liked her presence.Just that , It was really strange.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;The next time I asked her this question was almost a year later. We were on a holiday to Goa, supposedly in love with each other. She was sure it was love, I trusted her understanding of emotions by now, I just felt happy in her presence, It still was strange. But i had long stopped giving that a thought. &quot;So, do you ever think, what is the purpose of our lives?&quot;, I asked. She replied without any hesitation, &quot; its to be happy!. Very, Very happy!&quot;. &amp;nbsp;I asked her again, if she was sure. She said again, unhesitatingly that for her, the only purpose of life is to be Happy!. &quot;I will remember that&quot;, I said to her. &quot; I know you will Tim, I know you will&quot; came her reply.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a name=&#39;more&#39;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;&quot;What is purpose?&quot;, I had thought while i typed the same into the google search bar. I was only twelve-year-old then, half the age I am now. But twelve years since, I am still searching for my purpose of my life and here she is , so confidently telling me her purpose of life!. Is there something wrong with me?, I wondered once again gazing into the endless sea. A question i had gotten far too used to asking myself over the years. The search bar took its time to respond, internet was rare and thus slow back then. And after a few seconds, the answer had appeared,It said &quot;Purpose is the reason for which something is done or created or for which something exists&quot;.I will remember that, said the twelve-year me.&quot;I know you will Tim, I know you will&quot; resonated through the air.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;I rang the bell. She opened the door with much anticipation. I brought her a cake, and she was glad. we cut the cake, she kissed me and then we drove to the beach resort, as we entered the hall, all her friends started appearing one after another from the faraway door, each new entrant making Jenny more happy than earlier. She greeted them all and then they danced and sang and drank while I sat in the nearest table watching them all so joyous and happy, at least that&#39;s what they projected.She saw me staring aimlessly I guess, she came towards me, hugged me and told me this is the happiest day of her life, She loves me. &quot;Are you sure?&quot;, I asked. &quot;Of course, I Love you!.&quot;, said she. &quot;I was asking about, the happiest day of your life part, not the Love one&quot;. &quot;Yes it is the happiest day of my life by a mile!&quot;, said jenny glowingly coming even closer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;&quot;And I killed her.I stabbed her with the cake knife the next moment.It still had chocolate stuck to it. She screamed, It alerted her friends and the Hotel authorities, that is how I got arrested.And here I am now before you My Lord, explaining my reasons for my act&quot;,I stated. I thought he understood my reasons after all. He nodded his head in approval I reckoned but could as well have been in disbelief.The judge spoke with an authoritative tone and said &quot; I don&#39;t understand Mr.Tim, Could you please elaborate again what your reasons were?&quot;. I re-enacted his expressions of disbelief, I could not understand how he couldn&#39;t see my reasons!. How despite it being so obvious, the whole world was being blinded to it.How can they not see, did they not hear what i had just narrated. All these thoughts were running in my head when i heard the harsh tapping of the Judge&#39;s hammer bringing the murmur to silence, both that of the court room and of my mind. He looked at me angrily and said &quot;Will you speak up now, I don&#39;t have all day to spare&quot;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;&quot;Do you remember google&#39;s definition of purpose that i stated a while ago sir?.Reason for which something exists.What does that mean?.That means a purpose has an end. We say the purpose of this meeting is to select a chairman, and only after the selection, is the meeting considered completed and the purpose fulfilled, isn&#39;t it?.So, once the purpose is fulfilled the meeting ends.Let me take this trial for example sir, what is the purpose of this trial?and when is that purpose fulfilled?.The purpose is to punish the culprit and it will be fullfiled on passing of the sentence by you.And with that the trial would end.Now in same way do you remember what was Jenny&#39;s purpose of life? and when it would get fulfilled?She existed for happiness she said, she was the happiest that day she said, I hope you understand now. Please remember that sir,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;every purpose defined could be fulfilled and thus meets its end, thus when anyone describes what their lives purpose is, It means they will die after it is attained, Remember that sir&quot;, I said. &quot;I will remember it Tim, Forever&quot;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/feeds/7566490192240796028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/03/short-story-i_19.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/7566490192240796028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/7566490192240796028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/03/short-story-i_19.html' title='SHORT STORY - I'/><author><name>sank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18438317544489586930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMtBnfHy11Komsq3Y-1_qk3QPmsb2B0aqUQNbwOkT1M1dsN57w0Ew3vOHTMk02aLNHkqc8ZAWZWuco0oIFWlEppHPjdHWZFEpajVGPxfDLq8BcHtI2YxNWR0R2ZlyODw/s1600/*'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808968742953886058.post-2752950672413278616</id><published>2016-03-19T00:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2016-03-19T00:37:17.312-07:00</updated><title type='text'>RANDOM OBSERVATIONS</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;1. As I grew up i realized that people like being praised, encouraged or sympathized for anything and everything.No one will appreciate you for telling them that they could have done better, that this is just not good enough or that they were hopelessly bad.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;2.Second thing i learnt very recently is to never judge people or type-cast them because some of them will definitely prove you wrong one day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;3.Most humans are good and helpful, they do good things, help people in a way it doesn&#39;t take anything significant away from their own treasury.Treasury may be of wealth, or knowledge, or grades, or an important advice(an advice that can improve someones chances at achieving something good without affecting their own chances). They do so not because they are inherently good but just because it satisfies their inner ego and makes them feel good about themselves. Makes them feel they are a good person from within in-spite of all the wrong doings and all the back stabbing they do otherwise.So most acts of good are basically acts of ego-feeding rather than that of empathy or sympathy towards the receiver. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; clear: both; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0g3UnEeTJchHvtZ2EZZbHhuz74lSB7iysO-sSX1P73QW1B5GEXzIf6eVhZ0wGmsLGPnS5ZCqHdKPg0CwGdRPlpQHBQ0vc9Pzz9fR9p2nC1hxBZQSlSJnpA8Ca3ZeIpswaw8N9umqIB_FV/s599/580181_10151528576051840_716379788_n.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;color: #7c93a1; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;245&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0g3UnEeTJchHvtZ2EZZbHhuz74lSB7iysO-sSX1P73QW1B5GEXzIf6eVhZ0wGmsLGPnS5ZCqHdKPg0CwGdRPlpQHBQ0vc9Pzz9fR9p2nC1hxBZQSlSJnpA8Ca3ZeIpswaw8N9umqIB_FV/s320/580181_10151528576051840_716379788_n.jpg&quot; style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: &amp;quot;arial&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;tahoma&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;helvetica&amp;quot; , &amp;quot;freesans&amp;quot; , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;4.You are a character of the society around you.Each person you have met, seen or heard has affected your character in a minutest way at-least. We can witness this in the group of friends we make, they over the years end up acquiring your characteristics and you theirs. You all like and dislike similar things in most cases.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/feeds/2752950672413278616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/03/random-observations-1.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/2752950672413278616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/2752950672413278616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/03/random-observations-1.html' title='RANDOM OBSERVATIONS'/><author><name>sank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18438317544489586930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMtBnfHy11Komsq3Y-1_qk3QPmsb2B0aqUQNbwOkT1M1dsN57w0Ew3vOHTMk02aLNHkqc8ZAWZWuco0oIFWlEppHPjdHWZFEpajVGPxfDLq8BcHtI2YxNWR0R2ZlyODw/s1600/*'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0g3UnEeTJchHvtZ2EZZbHhuz74lSB7iysO-sSX1P73QW1B5GEXzIf6eVhZ0wGmsLGPnS5ZCqHdKPg0CwGdRPlpQHBQ0vc9Pzz9fR9p2nC1hxBZQSlSJnpA8Ca3ZeIpswaw8N9umqIB_FV/s72-c/580181_10151528576051840_716379788_n.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808968742953886058.post-1610498767202474707</id><published>2016-03-19T00:08:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2016-03-19T00:08:39.699-07:00</updated><title type='text'>&quot;TREKKING&quot; - A WAY OF LIFE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;You are on your own&quot; is very different when on a trek to what it means when your father tells it to you once you move out.You are literally on your &quot;own&quot;,completely in control of everything about you.Your next step is all your concerned about. You don&#39;t see your &quot;goals&quot; as people usually tell you to see to succeed, all you see is your next step your immediate happiness not your long term future. Not your after retirement plans only your foot&#39;s landing pad. Unlike in usual life where your every step is governed by varied expectations of yours,your relations&#39; and of your immediate world.In a trek your step is only governed by your understanding of your abilities and your realizations of your limitations. And success of a trek is driven by your sheer courage of trusting your abilities and making your own decisions for yourself. &quot;Because everyone cover&#39;s their own distances with their chosen leap &quot;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;
&quot;&lt;b&gt;Be a first rate version of yourself, rather than second rate version of someboday else&quot;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/feeds/1610498767202474707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/03/trekking-way-of-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/1610498767202474707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/1610498767202474707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/03/trekking-way-of-life.html' title='&quot;TREKKING&quot; - A WAY OF LIFE'/><author><name>sank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18438317544489586930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMtBnfHy11Komsq3Y-1_qk3QPmsb2B0aqUQNbwOkT1M1dsN57w0Ew3vOHTMk02aLNHkqc8ZAWZWuco0oIFWlEppHPjdHWZFEpajVGPxfDLq8BcHtI2YxNWR0R2ZlyODw/s1600/*'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808968742953886058.post-340968885584193736</id><published>2016-03-19T00:07:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2016-03-19T00:07:59.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>  URGE TO EXPRESS :</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;
I don&#39;t know what i want to write about i just know i want to write.I know i ain&#39;t great with words nor great with stories but still I want to write.May be its the unsatisfied hunger of expressing my thoughts,my observations or my attempt to make out the meaning of my very existence or an attempt to just know myself better.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;
People say there &quot;is no right way or wrong way to living,all we have to do is live&quot;. Live till we die someday?. But what&#39;s the point again?. But then looking at so many things around us that&#39;s a wrong question to ask. You see most of us feel there is no point in people climbing a mountain,for example say the Mount Everest, there is no treasure there, there are no medals to be won,no lives to be saved but still people choose to do it. Why? No one knows,no one can answer that not even those who climb up the mountain reach the top and come back. May be its just the same reason as the reason i am writing this,just a way of self-exploration. A way of knowing myself, a way of detaching myself with the life that I have been living.A way of feeling alive, alive to the existence of my own self in&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/feeds/340968885584193736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/03/urge-to-express.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/340968885584193736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/340968885584193736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/03/urge-to-express.html' title='  URGE TO EXPRESS :'/><author><name>sank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18438317544489586930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMtBnfHy11Komsq3Y-1_qk3QPmsb2B0aqUQNbwOkT1M1dsN57w0Ew3vOHTMk02aLNHkqc8ZAWZWuco0oIFWlEppHPjdHWZFEpajVGPxfDLq8BcHtI2YxNWR0R2ZlyODw/s1600/*'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-808968742953886058.post-7787850427853072750</id><published>2016-03-19T00:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2016-03-19T00:07:27.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SELF LOVE</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;&quot;Self love is the highest form of love&quot;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;-Sank and others!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;Well to prove my word let me&amp;nbsp;narrate&amp;nbsp;to you a story i heard from my grandpa when i was 6 yr old i guess.The story is of the two most famous personalities of the&amp;nbsp;Indian folklore.The story of Akbar and Birbal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;It was a summer evening when Akbar was strolling in his palace garden when a thought&amp;nbsp;occurred&amp;nbsp;to him looking at a bird feeding its new born and not having it herself that motherly love is the greatest love of all.The next day Akbar was attended by all his ministers to discuss the affairs of state.After the meeting got over Akbar&amp;nbsp;called&amp;nbsp;upon Birbal to join him for a walk.Birbal readily agreed and both started walking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;Akbar and Birbal never agreed on a single point ever.And Akbar always wished to outsmart Birbal,he posed Birbal with all sorts of questions all the time to test Birbal&#39;s intelligence but Birbal succeeded and came on top each time.But this time the King was assured of his victory when he told Birbal that he thinks &quot;Motherly love is the greatest form of love&quot;.Akbar expected Birbal to accept his statement on something that seemed universally true and direct but as usual Birbal disagreed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;It shocked Akbar and angered him as to how could Birbal not accept such a thing and he roared at Birbal asking &quot;then what do you think is greatest form of love?&quot;.Birbal smiled and told Akbar to wait till tommorow to get the answer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://www.blogger.com/null&quot; name=&quot;more&quot; style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;Akbar knew he was gonna win this time in this battle of wits so he agreed to wait till the next day.The next day Birbal took Akbar to the nearby well(more of a small trench) present inside the courtyard.The trench had steps to climb up and down it.Then Birbal clapped his hands and appeared few men with few drums of water.He clapped again and a person came out with a cage.In it was a newborn monkey and his mother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;Akbar asked Birbal what was this time waste and how is he gonna prove Akbar wrong this time?.Birbal again smiled and asked the monkeys to be put into the well.Now he ordered his men to fill the well with water.As they started to fill the trench the Mother monkey started to climb up the steps carrying its baby,the well was almost filled when the monkey reached the last step,but there was still a large distance from that step to the top of the well for it to escape from drowning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;Kings men continued filling water and it reached the mother monkey&#39;s feet.It now picked the baby monkey into its hands and put him on her shoulder.Seeing this Akbar laughed in triumph,he could see his point being proved by the mother monkey.And Birbal jus waited and watched.Water started to rise up further,now the mother monkey was half drowned into it,scattering to keep herself and her baby alive.Water level rose to her neck now and she found no way of escape...as water reached her nose she immediately put her baby down used it as a base to stand on and got out of the well leaving the baby behind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot; /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;&quot;&gt;Birbal then said &quot;self love is the greatest form of love&quot;.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/feeds/7787850427853072750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/03/self-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/7787850427853072750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/808968742953886058/posts/default/7787850427853072750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sanksview.blogspot.com/2016/03/self-love.html' title='SELF LOVE'/><author><name>sank</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18438317544489586930</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrMtBnfHy11Komsq3Y-1_qk3QPmsb2B0aqUQNbwOkT1M1dsN57w0Ew3vOHTMk02aLNHkqc8ZAWZWuco0oIFWlEppHPjdHWZFEpajVGPxfDLq8BcHtI2YxNWR0R2ZlyODw/s1600/*'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>