Friendship…


Handicap

 

This is the story of a soldier who was finally coming home after having fought in Kargil. He called his parents from Kashmir.

“Mom and Dad, I’m coming home, but I’ve a favor to ask. I have a friend I’d like to bring home with me.

“Sure,” they replied, “we’d love to meet him.”

“There’s something you should know,” the son continued, “he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mind and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live.”

“No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us.”

“Son,” said the father, “you don’t know what you’re asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can’t let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He’ll find a way to live on his own.”

At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later, however, they received a call from the Kashmir police. Their son had died after falling from a building, they were told. The police believed it was suicide.

The grief-stricken parents flew to Kashmir and were taken to the city morgue to identify the body of their son. They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn’t know, their son had only one arm and one leg.

The parents in this story are like many of us. We find it easy to love those who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we don’t like people who inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable. We would rather stay away from people who aren’t as healthy, beautiful, or smart as we are.

Thankfully, there’s someone who won’t treat us that way. Someone who loves us with an unconditional love that welcomes us into the forever family, regardless of how messed up we are.

Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us. Show your friends how much you care….

 

Evergreen Wishes,

 

S.R.Karthik

 

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Reality Vs Truth


True Life!!!


I woke up early in the morning and was little bit anxious about life and was day dreaming for some time and after that I have connected to Internet to chat with some of my friends online.

Normally I will speak with my friends in US and Canada during night time but today I felt like speaking with them in the morning as it’s the weekend and all of them will find some time during weekend only.

I have gone through my orkut page and didn’t find anything interesting and after that I have checked Face book which becomes very famous now a days and you can find some interesting things like what the morning, afternoon and evening recipes in their home are and their plans for this weekend as well.

I have checked my linked in page for any of the updates regarding Documentum (The technology which I am working with and the technology which I like very much).

I found this post in one of my friends Google Buzz.

It’s a story of a Brahmin gal who loved a non-Brahmin and due to father’s compulsion married a Brahmin guy and leading a perfect life with little happiness!!

(Some tamil words included)…

 

Dearest Appa,

27th Jan’1965

 

Hope this letter finds you, Amma, Raji and Seenu in good health. The weather here in New York City is icy cold. But Avar sollraar- I have missed this winter’s biting cold. I still wish I had seen the snow… But then, I still wish I had not left Trichy at all. I do miss Trichy, Appa. You, Amma, Raji, Seenu, pakkatthaathu Rama, Vikatan,Ucchi Pillaiyaar Koil, filter coffee, Holy Cross College, the Maths Department and of course Sakthi. I know you wish I hadn’t brought his name in this letter.But not to worry Appa, I understand that you got me married to Visu because you thought it was best for your daughter.

I still remember Amma wiping her silent tears with her madisaar thalappu and you shouting at me the day I told you about Sakthi.Later, when the initial shock wore off you patiently listed umpteen reasons why I should not marry Sakthi. I agree Appa, that 20 is too young to decide, that Raji and Seenu would have been affected greatly by my ‘mistake’, the Agrahaaram would have scoffed at you… a meat eater was not a good match for someone who had never even tasted onion and garlic. The reasons were innumerous. I knew you’d still have objected and offered other reasons even if he had become a Dhigambara monk.

Visu on the other hand, wore a poonal, he is the son of Neelakanta Sastri, an Engineer and he researched about computers which is what made you jump for this alliance. Am not complaining Appa, Visu is a nice man. Tell Amma that I could not try her kozhakkattai recipe this Pongal because coconuts were too expensive and Avar nenacchar that it was ridiculous.

Anyway, we went out on Sankaranthi day and dined out. He thought it would be a good idea to invite the Chatterjees also. But I didn’t speak Bengali and Mrs.Chatterjee spoke English in an accent that comes with living years in America. Hence I made myself busy with the menu card. They ordered various species of fish,shrimp and a lot more of items I had never seen in my life. I ordered orange juice and a sandwich. The other diners thought it was queer coming to a seafood restaurant and settling for a sandwich. That day, I learnt that Avar prefer pannradhu beef, pork, bacon and seafood.

Do you know, Appa… Sakthi gave up meat because of me? I didn’t ask, he just did. But then, Sakthi is not Neelakanta Sastri’s son and that made it impossible for Subramania Iyer’s daughter Kalyani to marry him.I will keep you posted on what happens here. I don’t think I can make it to Seenu’s Upanayanam. Tell Amma not to get me a pattu podavai for the poonal, I don’t use them here. I wore it once and felt like a clown here.

 

Your loving daughter,

Kalyani.

 

Dearest Appa,
20th Oct’1968

 

We are fine here. Gautam is speaking his first words and I swear they sounded like ‘Dosai’. But Visu claims it’s just gibberish. From your previous letter, I gather that pakkathatthu Rama is married and settled in Jamshedpur. Nice to know that. Please find out her address from Saarada maami and write it to me. I want to keep in touch with her. I hope Raji is happy with her husband in Madras. I spoke to her last month, great to know that she has a phone. Do tell Seenu to study well and prepare for his school final exams.

Raji also told me that Sakthi is married now. I wish him good luck, but I could not convey the message to him. Raji refused to be the messenger and I know you have severed ties with Sakthi’s father, your long term friend Sankaravel, thanks to me. I hear his wife is his cousin… He must have succumbed to his mother’s wishes.

How did Avani Avittam go? Visu’s mother gave me a bunch of new poonals for Avani Avittam but Visu was in Boston that day. He wouldn’t have used it anyway, I haven’t seen him wear one in the last three years. Gautam is now playing with the spool of thread- mere thread it is, what else can I call it? Gautam will not even know what it signifies, I guess.

Visu is making sure Gautam grows up listening to English only. He says it will make his life easier. But I do read out passages from Ponniyin Selvan and Bharathiyaar’s poetry when I am alone with him. It’s more of reading to myself, I guess. I actually got that poetry book as a present from Sakthi, it still has his scrawling signature in the first page.

By the way, Visu saw that book and asked me about Sakthi, I told him. Hold your breath Appa, he didn’t throw me out of the house. He is a good man, no question. He said it is okay and that he doesn’t mind. And then he told me of his American girlfriend whom he was once in love with, when he first reached America- Amy, a fellow Researcher who was in a brief relationship with Visu when she was in New York. They lived together for 3 months and decided against marriage, somehow. Amy once dropped home when she was in New York. Nice lady, she was.

Ask Amma to send me Sambar Podi for this whole year. My friend Sudha is coming to Madras next week. Ask Seenu to catch the Rockfort Express and give it to her. I will collect it from her here.

 

Your loving daughter,

Kalyani.

 

Dearest Appa,
3rd June’1974

 

We have arrived here safely. After two months in India, I find it hard to adjust back to normal life here. Gautam and Ranjana demand vadai,paayasam and vaazhai ilai here. Visu’s relieved to be back in America. I left a set of my books there. If it’s not in Trichy it must be in Visu’s parents’ place. If you find them, safeguard them until my next trip. They mean a lot to me since they were gifts from Sakthi. By the way, Appa, I found out Sakthi’s present address in Madras from Rama and Saarada maami. I wrote to him. I am extremely proud to know that Dr.Sakthivel is a cardiologist much in demand there in Madras. He was thrilled to hear from me after so long. You know what he has named his daughters? Kalyani and Raagamaalika. He called me. You know what, he’s still a practising vegetarian, Appa. He didn’t revert back just because he lost me… He asked me if I still sang and whether Gautam and Ranjana could sing. I could see a proud father in him, when he claimed his daughters could sing upto Rara Venu Gopala. That’s when I remembered that I was once a good singer. I wonder why I stopped singing, wonder why I never exposed the kids to Music and Dance. But then, I realize that I had buried all that deep inside me when I left Trichy; after bidding farewell to my best Rasika, actually. Sakthi. After the call, I tried singing ’Kurai Onrum Illai’. I could not rquite reach Charanam, because of the lack of practice and more importantly because of the tears that filmed my eyes and the constriction in my throat. I sang to Visu and the kids one of these days. Though Gautam was impressed, father and daughter could not just wait for me to finish! By the way, next time some friend comes to India, send me a Sruthi Box. I would like to start singing again.

 

Your loving daughter,

Kalyani.

 

Dearest Appa,

14th Aug 1978

 

Just back after our tour to California. Find our photos, picture postcards attached herewith. After you are done with showing all family members,relatives, friends and neighbours, pass them to Visu’s parents. It was a welcome break for the four of us. But I missed my paattu class students all along and was happy to resume the classes again last evening. Did I mention in my previous letter, before we left on the tour – I finally got my driving license here. I sent a few photos to Sakthi too. He has sent me quite a few records and cassettes. I loved it! I’m reminded of AIR, almost! I’m circulating them among my friends too. And of course, playing them for my students too. They are picking up beautifully. Funny news is, I, a Tamilian, is teaching Telugu and Sanskrit kritis to a cross section of Tamil, Malayalam, Kannada,Telugu, Marathi, Bengali students in an English speaking nation. The music sessions have resulted in a reborn Kalyani, Appa. Thanks to Sakthi, really. I would have never taken it up had it not been for his reminder. I am now thinking of what life would have been like if I had indeed married him. I would have of course lost you and Amma. But right now, with this life in America, Visu and these monthly letters to you, Rama, Raji and Seenu what have i gained? I don’t find an answer, Appa. Neither do I think I ever will. Again, as I have always reiterated, Visu is a good man, no complaints there. He is every bit the son in law you wanted. Researcher, American Post-Graduate Degree holder, a dutiful husband and father,earning a comfortable income. I know it is too much to ask for anything else. That is a fantasy I left midway in my life… Once upon a time in Trichy with someone else.

 

Your loving daughter,

Kalyani.

 

Dearest Appa,
14th Apr’1984

 

Met Dr.Sakthivel after 19 years… He had come to New York for business purposes and paid me a visit. Visu and the kids welcomed him home with great pleasure. And they liked him too. Infact, they did most of the talking initially. And of course, he got me a whole load of books, cassettes, Mysore Paak and lots more.

 

Your loving daughter,
Kalyani.

 

Dearest Appa,
20th Jan’ 1990

 

I just went through all these letters lying in my closet draw for years together. These are letters I started writing to you and then decided not to post. For obvious reasons. I could not mention Sakthi to you even though I was itching to. Not because I was afraid to invite your wrath. I just did not have the heart to hurt you, I know these letters would have hurt you. Because deep inside, I know you were disturbed- you knew Sakthi was a good man, you knew he was a man of substance, yet you didn’t want to go further. Society, I know. ..Family… I know… And all these letters would have only wounded you more. Today, 2 years after your death, and 6 months after Dr.Sakthivel’s untimely death in a road accident, I somehow felt like re-reading all these letters. To me, all these unstamped, unposted letters mean a life that could have been.

 

Kalyani Viswanathan

 

I felt very sorry for her after reading through this post  and whether its real history or story, we have to understand that life is a one time opportunity blessed by god and we have to respect others feelings whether the person might be of any relationship to us.

 

Evergreen Wishes,

S.R.Karthik

God Does Exist !!!


WHY GOD ALLOWS PAIN……????

 

 This is one of the best explanations of why GOD allows pain and suffering……….

 

A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and his beard trimmed.

 

As the barber began to work, they began to have a good conversation.

 

They talked about so many things and various subjects.

 

When they eventually touched on the subject of GOD, the barber said: “I don’t believe that GOD exists.”

 

“Why do you say that?” asked the customer.

 

“Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize that GOD doesn’t exist.

 

Tell me, if GOD exists, would there be so many sick people?

 

Would there be abandoned children?

 

If GOD existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain.

 

I can’t imagine a loving GOD who would allow all of these things.”

 

The customer thought for a moment, but didn’t respond because he didn’t want to start an argument.

 

The barber finished his job and the customer left the shop.

 

Just after he left the barbershop, he saw a man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an untrimmed beard.

 

He looked dirty and unkempt.

 

The customer turned back and entered the barber shop again and he said to the barber:  “You know what? Barbers do not exist.”

 

“How can you say that?” asked the surprised barber.

 

“I am here, and I am a barber. And I just worked on you!”

 

“No!” the customer exclaimed. “Barbers don’t exist because if they did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and untrimmed beards, like that man outside.”

 

“Ah, but barbers DO exist! That’s what happens when people do not come to me.”

 

“Exactly!” affirmed the customer. “That’s the point! GOD, too, DOES exist!

 

That’s what happens when people do not go to HIM and don’t look to HIM for help.

 

That’s why there’s so much pain and suffering in the world.”

 

BE BLESSED & BE A BLESSING TO OTHERS !!!!

 

If we cannot love the person whom we see, How come we love GOD whom we cannot see…..Mother Teresa

 

Urs,

 

S.R.Karthik

God is Great!!!


God is Great!!!

 

The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their first ministry, to reopen a church in suburban Brooklyn, arrived in early October excited about their opportunities when they saw their church, it was very run down and needed much work.

They set a goal to have everything done in time to have their first service on Christmas Eve.

They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls, painting, etc, and on December 18 were ahead of schedule and just about finished.

On December 19 a terrible tempest – a driving rainstorm hit the area and lasted for two days.

On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church.

His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high.

The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do but postpone the Christmas Eve service, headed home.

On the way he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for charity so he stopped in.

One of the items was a beautiful, handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colors and a Cross embroidered right in the center.

It was just the right size to cover up the hole in the front wall.

He bought it and headed back to the church.

By this time it had started to snow.

An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to catch the bus. She missed it.

The pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45 minutes later.

She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry.

The pastor could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire problem area.

Then he noticed the woman walking down the center aisle.

Her face was like a sheet.. “Pastor,” she asked, “where did you get that tablecloth?”

The pastor explained.

The woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there. They were.

These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria the woman could hardly believe it as the pastor told how he had just gotten the Tablecloth.

The woman explained that before the war she and her husband were well-to-do people in Austria.

When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave.

Her husband was going to follow her the next week.

He was captured, sent to prison and never saw her husband or her home again.

The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth; but she made the pastor keep it for the church.

The pastor insisted on driving her home that was the least he could do.

She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.

What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve.

The church was almost full. The music and the spirit were great.

At the end of the service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they would return.

One older man, whom the pastor recognized from the neighborhood continued to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he wasn’t leaving.

The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago when they lived in Austria before the war and how could there be two tablecloths so much alike.

He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for her safety and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a prison.

He never saw his wife or his home again all the 35 years in between.

The pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride.

They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the pastor had taken the woman three days earlier.

He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the woman’s apartment, knocked on the door and he saw the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.

True Story – submitted by Pastor Rob Reid who says God does work in mysterious ways.

God is Great!!!

Urs,

SRK

Bengal Tiger!!!


King of Wild Beasts!!!

This is one of the famous stories believed in Bengal about a fakir, Gazi Saheb. His story is similar to our Sai Baba from Shridi.

To the boatmen of the river Hooghly, and the woodcutters and honey gatherers of the Sunderbans, “Gazi Saheb” is a name that is still invoked in times of storm or stress.

Stories of the magical powers of this wonder-worker have been preserved in song and legend.

South of Calcutta, where the town of Baruipur stands, there was once dense, impenetrable jungle, laced with crocodile-infested creeks.

Into this wasteland came a fakir, Mobrah Gazi by name, to take up his abode at a place called Basre. He so overawed the wild beasts that they became his slaves; and the “Gazi Saheb”, as he came to be known, was often seen riding about on a tiger.

It is said that the Zamindar of the pargana in which Basra was situated was placed under arrest because he was unable to pay the annual revenue to the Emperor at Delhi.

The Zamindar’s mother, fearing for her son’s life sought the assistance of the great Gazi. The fakir promised him aid.

After sending the woman who served him as a devotee home, he dismounted from his Bengal tiger and sat down in deep meditation.

So great were his powers that his thoughts were telegraphed over the many hundreds miles separating his jungle from Delhi, and he gave the Emperor a dream in which he, Gazi Saheb, appeared before the Emperor, surrounded by wild beasts, and announced that he was the owner of the Basre jungles, and that the revenue would be paid from his treasures buried in the forest.

He ordered the Emperor to have the Zamindar of Basre released, threatening him with every misfortune if he disobeyed.

The Emperor woke late next morning and, overtaken by the business of his court, forgot the dream.

The following morning, when he ascended his throne, instead of seeing the usual courtiers and attendants, he found himself like a mother, fearing for her son’s life and sought the assistance of the great Gazi. The fakir promised his aid.

The Zamindar’s house, the Emperor came to know, was surrounded by wild beasts. He immediately remembered his dream, and in great haste ordered the release of the Zamindar.

The animals vanished, and a few weeks later the revenue arrived, paid out of the Gazi’s treasure.

In gratitude for the Gazi’s help, the Zamindar built a mosque in the jungles of Basre, as an abode for the saint; but the Gazi Saheb- who had no use for material possessions and used his mysterious treasure only to assist others, said that he preferred the shelter of the forests in sunshine and rain, and desired neither mosque nor house.

The Zamindar then ordered that every village in his Zamindari should erect an altar dedicated to Gazi Saheb, “King of the Sunderbans and of the Wild Beasts”, and warned his tenants that if they failed to make an offering before entering the jungle they would almost certainly be devoured by tigers or crocodiles.

And so even today, between Calcutta and the Bay of Bengal, the Gazi Saheb is recognized as a saint in many of the villages of the Sunderbans, and his name is held in reverence by both Hindus and Muslims.

There is no record of the Gazi Saheb ever having taken a wife, yet there are a number of fakirs who claim themselves as his descendents, gaining a livelihood from the offerings of boatmen and woodcutters.

That day they do not have the powers of the original Gazi has been apparent more than once, for it is usually the fakirs, and not the village folk, who are carried off by tigers or crocodiles.

Many people have tried to discover the whereabouts of the tomb of Gazi Saheb. Some say it lies near Baruipur, where the saint first took up his abode; others say it is to be found in the jungles of Sagar Island, “by the creek that runs to the sea.”

And there are some who feel certain that there is no tomb that the Gazi Saheb left this earth in no ordinary way, but was taken to Paradise riding on a Royal Bengal Tiger.

Urs,

SRK

Mango Fruit!!!


The Last Wish!!!

 

Once when King Sri Krishna Deva Rayalu was ruling the Vijaya Nagar Empire, the royal mother fell sick and was bedridden.

The medical professionals of the court declared that there was no chance for her to survive this episode and that she grew too old to respond to any medication.

One morning, she summoned Rayalu to her presence.

“My Dear Son! I realize that I am close to death’s door. I also do not have any hopes that my health would become better. However, I have a last wish.”

She paused and asked, “Can you accomplish it for me before my soul is taken away?”

Rayalu was the King of Kings. His mother was on the deathbed, expressing her last wish.

How could he turn away from it? He gently said, “Mother! Please tell me I will definitely accomplish your last wish” he assured.

“I…” she added, “…wish to eat a mango fruit, can you get me one?” in a feeble tone the mother asked Rayalu.

It was early summer. Trees had just started bearing tender fruits.

There was no guarantee that royal mother would live until the tender ones ripened on the tree, Rayalu thought.

It was also an insult to his royalty, if he was unable to fulfil his mother’s last wish.

Immediately the King ordered his soldiers to scan through the fields of the kingdom and bring some ripe mangoes at any cost, immediately.

The soldiers plunged into action. They did their best and returned with a basket filled with ripe mangoes.

Eventually, just before the soldiers could place the basket before their King, king’s mother breathed her last.

Rayalu was taken aback, for being unable to fulfil the last wish more than for her demise.

He was shook deeply with the thought that his mother was dead even before her quench for mangoes was fulfilled.

He slowly started to sink day after the day with the thoughts that were ripping him.

Rayalu invited Royal Master Thathacharya, explained his struggle, and sought an advice that would take the suffering off from him.

Thathacharya thought for a while and told the King, “My king! Your mother was fond of giving alms to the poor and needy.

Her soul would rest in peace, if you can fulfil her last wish through donations. Order for preparing mangoes with gold and distribute them to Brahmins of the country.”

The news spread like wildfire in the kingdom that Rayalu was doling out golden mangoes to Brahmins in the memory of his mother.

Brahmins from all over the empire started flooding into the capital to accept the golden mango from the King. Day in and out, long queues were always seen only to add people to its tail.

With this, the gold reserves in the exchequer were melting down rapidly.

Rayalu not bothering about the consequences was incessantly involved in donating golden mangoes to the Brahmins.

He never heeded to the pleas and warnings of the Chief Minister Thimmarusu in this regard.

Thimmarusu was in confusion and did not know how to stop the King.

He approached Ramalinga and urged for a solution to this in the interest of the kingdom and its people.

Ramalinga assured Thimmarusu that he would check it at the earliest.

“Go home and have a sound night sleep, Chief Minister. Everything will be alright by tomorrow evening” Ramalinga sent off Thimmarusu.

Next morning, Ramalinga went near the long queues and watched what was happening.

He then selected a yard close to the queues and sat there, ordering the queue maintenance persons to send each of the Brahmins to him before sending him to Rayalu for the golden mango.

Everyone knew that Ramalinga was one of the close associates of the King.

They thought that Ramalinga was doing so on the orders of the King and started sending the Brahmins first to Ramalinga before sending them into the palace.

Ramalinga told every Brahmin that there was a slight amendment to the donation process.

“The King Rayalu wished to donate the golden mangoes to those who bore a blister from him” Ramalinga explained.

Brahmins desirous of the gold first had a burn on their backs and went for the King’s gold.

This went on until afternoon. In the later afternoon, one Brahmin pleaded Ramalinga to give him two burns and two golden mangoes.

Ramalinga immediately fulfilled the Brahmins wish.

Then the Brahmin approached Rayalu. As usual, Rayalu handed him one mango.

The Brahmin immediately requested the King, “My Lord! I had two burns please give me two golden mangoes.”

The King Rayalu did not understand what was happening. He enquired, “What burns?”

Then the Brahmin narrated the entire story about Ramalinga and burns to Rayalu.

The King shivering with anger called for Ramalinga and questioned him, “Ramalinga, what is happening. Why are you doing this brutality on these poor and innocent Brahmins?”

Ramalinga very politely and innocently, as if nothing was amiss, explained. “My Dear King! I am an unlucky person.

Recently my mother succumbed to a chronic disease. She wished all during her bed ridden period to cauterize her back so that she could become healthy and live longer.”

Wiping the tears dropping on his cheeks, Ramalinga continued, “Probably she would have lived. Nevertheless, I did not heed to her requests.

She died with it on her lips. I thought of presenting it to the Brahmins, as I failed to fulfill my mother’s last wish.

However, I being a poor man cannot invite such huge number of Brahmins. Anyway, all of these had come on your invitation and I am trying to fulfill my mother’s last wish in this manner.

With all due respects to the King, I beg for pardon for my deeds, if I am wrong.”

Rayalu analyzed that Ramalinga was attempting to teach him a lesson. He then recalled Thimmarusu’s pleas about the drastically dropping gold reserves in the exchequer.

Appreciating the presence of mind and loyalty, Rayalu immediately stopped the programme.

Urs,

SRK

Free Bird!!!


Free Bird!!!

 

Today we will see about one of the best comic incident which took place in the Vijayanagara empire.. Enjoy…

 

One day, the king was taking a walk in the garden with Tenali Ramanna.

 

They talked with each other in a friendly manner and together admired the fleecy white clouds, the luxurious gardens, the colorful fruit laden trees and the flower scents that wafted through the air.

 

The day was indeed very pleasant and the king couldn’t have been in a better mood.


As they walked back to the palace, they heard a screeching noise.

 

The king smiled as he recognized the screech. It came from his beloved and most cherished pet- the royal parrot.

 

Ramanna also followed the king as he entered the palace. The parrot had a room of it’s own.

 

Inside the room a beautiful golden cage stood embedded with all the precious stones.

 

The parrot, a very bright colored creature was sitting perched on a tiny swing made of gold. It wore a diamond necklace around its neck. It was beautiful bird and when it saw the king it began to talk like a good old friend.

 

Ramanna noticed that the cage was carpeted with a lush Kashmir spread and the silver bowl that contained water for the parrot gleamed in the sun.

 

An assorted selection of nuts and berries from all the corners of the land lay on a golden plate which bore the bird’s name intricately carved in silver on the side.

 
The king spent a few minutes talking to his dream pet and Tenali stood silently beside them not uttering a word.

 

The king seeing that Tenali remained silent asked him “What are you thinking Tenali?” “I am thinking about this parrot my Lord” he replied.

 

“So what about him? Isn’t he a beauty?” asked the King.

 

“Yes, I guess he is Lord” replied Ramanna.

 

“Of course he is!” There is no doubt about that’s what are you wondering at?” demanded the King.

 

 “I am wondering my Lord, if….” “Well what are you speculating Tenali? Out with it soon.

 

I am fed up with your long pauses and sighs,” said the King, a little impatient that the usual quick was dragging.

 

“Well, I was wondering whether the bird was happy, my Lord,” replied Ramanna.

 
“Happy? You must be out of your mind Tenali!” thundered the King.

 

“Look at this parrot. Is he not happy? See the finery with which he is surrounded. No other bird has the opportunity to perch on my fingers. No other bird in the entire universe has a cage like this. How dare you say that he is not happy?”

 

“Forgive me my Lord for contradicting you,” replied Tenali humbly, “but still I think that he is not happy deep within”

 
“Why on earth do you think so? Has he expressed anything to you?” asked the King a little concerned.

 

“No, the parrot doesn’t talk to me as he does to you my Lord. But I know that he is not happy. I do agree that your parrot has indeed everything a man could wish for. But he is a bird my Lord.

 

And birds need to be up in the sky and not in a cage. Look at all those birds outside my Lord. I find your parrot looking at them quite often.”

 
The King looked at the birds outside and said “He may not have the freedom to fly around like them. But he doesn’t have to go searching for his food and shelter like the rest either. He is not unhappy for sure!”

 
“I may sound impudent my Lord, but I totally disagree with you on this. Birds should be free to fly and soar up in the sky.

 

Golden cages can’t replace the freedom they long for. It’s very lonely for your parrot hereafter you have gone. Just imagine yourself my Lord in this place all shut up till someone comes to see you?

 

 Can you really be happy even if you had the best bed to lie on and the best food to eat?”

 

The King became angry and shouted “How dare you argue with me Tenali? I know for sure that my parrot is happy. I will not agree with you.”

  

Unmoved by the angry king, Tenali simply replied, “I’ll surely not agree this time with you either my Lord. Your parrot is downright miserable.”

 

The King couldn’t bare it anymore. He became furious and screamed “Get out of my sight Tenali. I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

 
The King walked out of the room and shut it with a bang. He didn’t go to the court.

 

He missed his lunch, tea and dinner and none including the queen dared to go near him, afraid of his anger.

 

The next morning the king woke up tired and hungry. His anger had cooled down to a great extent and he wanted to eat well to makeup for the previous day.

 

He summoned his courtiers for food. After a while he heard a knock at the door.

 

The door opened and in front of him stood a strange creature holding his food tray.

 

The creature wore human clothes but his head was nothing but a blackened pot with 2 holes for the eyes.

 

The king screamed in fright and yelled for his guards. All of them came and stood around the strange black creature not having courage to catch him.

 

The king asked him,” Who are you? What brings you here to my place?”

 

From inside the depths of the pot came a meek voice, “My Lord, your loyal servant Tenali Ramanna”


“Tenali Ramanna! How dare you come to me? I told you never to show your face again, isn’t it?” thundered the king.

 

“I have kept your orders my Lord. That’s why I am wearing a pot on my head- to cover my face,” replied the witty minister.

 
The king was so shocked to find Ramanna inside the pot that he stood speechless for a moment.

 

Then his anger melted away and he burst out laughing. He laughed so hard till tears came rolling down his cheeks.

 
The guards and courtiers, who were terrified to even go near the king the previous day because of his anger, heaved a huge sigh of relief and grinned at each other, well pleased at the change in the Kings mood.

 

When he calmed down, the king said “Ramanna! How clever you are! Remove the pot off your head. I need to talk to you.”

 
The king dismissed the guards and he pulled Ramanna to his room and said, “”Ramanna! Please forgive me. I have realized that I was wrong. I thought over whatever you said all through the night.

 

 Yes, birds do need their freedom indeed. The first thing we need to do this morning is to set him free. Please forgive me for being so angry with you. I shall never again do so.”

 
“I am so glad to hear your decision my Lord,” replied Ramanna removing the pot off his head.

 

“I hope and pray that your parrot is happy wherever he is. I am sure my Lord that even if you release him, he will come and visit you often in our gardens.

 

He will not forget your friendship though he is free.”

 
“I hope so Ramanna! But I will be happy even if he doesn’t return. After all he belongs to the sky and not to a golden cage. And Ramanna, here is a bag of gold and gift for opening my eyes.

 

Please do feel free to come to me whenever you wish. I am so proud to have you to advise me.”

 

Handing Ramanna the bag of gold, the King headed to the other end of his palace to release the parrot.

 

Laughter reflects a man’s nature. What does a man laugh at, whom does he makes fun of and why – these can show how mature his mind is.

 

Urs,

 

SRK