| Footage from last year: My Birthday |
दिये जलते हैं,
फूल खिलते हैं,
बड़ी मुश्किल से मगर,
दुनिया में दोस्त मिलते हैं!
फूल खिलते हैं,
बड़ी मुश्किल से मगर,
दुनिया में दोस्त मिलते हैं!
What is this life if full of care... We have no time to stand and stare... And many promises to keep... And miles to go before I sleep.... And miles to go before I sleep....
| Footage from last year: My Birthday |
which his mom gave him and she should hand over to her daughter when she is five. Few days later, this guy is at gunpoint outside his house, by someone who wants to take revenge. The girl comes running to protect her dad - the man shoots - the girl clings on to her dad - the man who had shot realizes his mistake - the girl holds tight, says, "Daddy, my scarf will protect you!" - nobody dies, but in that moment everybody realize their mistakes. Everybody, somewhere in some crude way sees justice and salvation.How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light.
Oogway: You are too concerned about what was and what will be. There is a saying: yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present.
I remember my first Christmas party with Grandma. I was
just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to
visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There
is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"
My grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled
to her that day because I knew she would be straight with
me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that
the truth always went down a whole lot easier when
swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between
bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me.
"No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't believe it.
That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes
me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished
my second cinnamon bun.
"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store
in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we
walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars.
That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money and buy
something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the
car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my
mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself.
The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling
to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just
stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering
what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.
I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my
neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my
church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought
of Bobbie Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair,
and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.
Bobbie Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never
went out for recess during the winter. His mother always wrote
a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids
knew that Bobbie Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have
a coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I
would buy Bobbie Decker a coat. I settled on a red corduroy one
that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.
"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the
counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.
"Yes," I replied shyly. "It's ... For Bobbie."
The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put
the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas
paper and ribbons, and write, "To Bobbie, From Santa Claus"
on it -- Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.
Then she drove me over to Bobbie Decker's house, explaining
as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's
helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobbie's house, and
she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front
walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus,"
she whispered, "get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the
present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back
to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited
breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally
it did, and there stood Bobbie.
Forty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent
shivering, beside my grandma, in Bobbie Decker's bushes. That
night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus
were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous.
Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.
IIT Bombay student Anupam Biswas 5th sem. Mechanical Engg is suffering from Colukabki (caused due to excessive nabad and depression) a disease very rarely found (3 in a billion). His condition is very pathetic and the treatment is very expensive, obviously his parents are not able to afford his treatment. Orkut has agreed to pay 1 paisa after each time this message is forward. So please pass to all ur friends. please i request you to pass it to as many people as u can and lets try to save someone's life. I request please do not ignore this. It will take......It made me wonder about a few things:
beings, someone in need, but there is a bigger larger sense that prevails and wants most of us to chill and relax and do our work, sit in our tight loop of what we call our lives. Unless it involves sending a mail [without even thinking twice of its implications] or writing a blog about the poor, most of us just pass. And though there is a struggle inside which really wants us to do something make some change somewhere, ultimately our better sense prevails... And we pass... and that.. sadly is what I have been doing....