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Philosophy To be or not to be...

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  #1  
Old November 20th, 2004, 02:59 PM
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Thumbs up Food for Thought

Let me take this opportunity to invite all the ec's (wise & naive) to pour in their favourite inspirational thoughts, short stories, sayings, quotations that are basically a distillation of wisdom of world's greatest thinkers, poets, writers, and leaders. I am sure that they may help us lead our life in full ...

Again, I am going to quote the american actress Helen Hayes words,

"We rely on poets, the philosophers and the plawrights to articulate what most of us can only feel, in joy or sorrow. They illuminate the thoughts for which we can only grope; they give us the strength and balm we cannot find in ourselves ... the wisdom of acceptance and the resilience to push on"

P.S. moderators can you make this a sticky thread ...
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Old November 20th, 2004, 03:08 PM
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Indeed a posting to be shared

An elderly carpenter was ready to retire. He told his employer-contractor of his plans to leave the house-building business and live a more leisurely life with his wife enjoying his extended family. He would miss the paycheck, but he needed to retire. They could get by. The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go and asked if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The carpenter said yes, but in time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end a dedicated career. When the carpenter finished his work the employer came to inspect the house. He handed the front door key to the carpenter. "This is your house," he said, "my gift to you." The carpenter was shocked ! What a shame !

If he had only known he was building his own house, he would have done it all so differently. So it is with us. We build our lives, a day at a time, often putting less than our best into the building. Then with shock we realize we have to live in the house we have built. If we could do it over, we'd do it much differently. But we cannot go back. You are the carpenter. Each day you hammer a nail, place a board, erect a wall. "Life is a do-it-yourself-project," someone has said. Your attitudes and the choices you make today, build the "house" you live in tomorrow. Build Wisely!

[Apologies if it has already been reposted elsewhere. Author unknown; Appropriate Copyright applies]
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Old November 22nd, 2004, 11:32 AM
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The islands of anarchy during that period were under the sway of the state administration (rashtro-shashon). The whole day and night used to pass under the fear of most sudden attacks of injustice and tyranny. The entire spectrum of life was like a web of nightmare. The head of the household had to constantly stare at Devta (god), while people's mind was under constant fear of the Apodevta (devils) as to what might happen. It was difficult to trust anyone, a man or a Devta, the excuse of tears was common. The gap between the consequence of good deeds and bad deeds was thin. In their odyssey of life people used to stumble into troubles at every step.

In this kind of situation, having a beautiful daughter at home was like a curse from God. If any household had such a daughter, the family would often say: "When will her departure would bring us relief!" A similar kind of burden was at the home of Talukdar Banshibadan.

Kamala was pretty. Her parents were dead. The rest of the extended family would feel better, if only she would take off as well. But that did not happen. Her uncle Banshi has taken care of her as a member of the family with utmost care and affection.

Her aunt, however, used to frequently complain to the neighbors: "See fellows, her parents left her on our shoulder only as a trouble. No one knows what is going to happen. I have my own household, in which she has kept alight the torch of ruin. All the bad people's eyes are set upon us. When one day are we all going to be ruined due to her, just the thought of it robs my sleep.

Somehow the days were passing. Then came a proposal of marriage. It became difficult to hide her amidst all the celebrations. Her uncle used to say: "That's why I have chosen a home for her where they would be able to protect her."

The groom was the second son of Mochakhali's Poromanondo Shetth. The son is holding onto a big treasure of wealth, but it might simply disappear with the death of the father. The son was extremely extravagant - devoted to playing with Hawks, gambling, wagering large sums of money on fights between Nightingales. He had great pride in so much wealth; of course, he had a lot. He had at his disposal well-built, Bhojhpuri bodyguards, masters of fighting (club-man; latthiyal). He used to boast as to which brother-in-law (translator's note: shala, I guess) has a son in that whole region who can touch him. He was specially enamored with women. He has a wife, but is looking hard for a younger one. He came to learn about Kamala. The Shetth family is very wealthy; powerful too. He was determined to bring her as a new bride.

Kamala started crying: "Dear uncle, where to are you letting me go?"

"If I had the power to protect you, I would have held you dearly forever, my dear", her uncle sighed.

When the decision about marriage was settled, the groom came to the ceremony with great pomp; there was plenty of music and celebration. The uncle humbly submitted: "My dear son, I don't think so much pomp and publicity is a good idea. The time is pretty rough."

Hearing this he once again roared at those sons of "brother-in-law" (shala): "We will see who interferes."

The uncle said, "Until the marriage ceremony is over, the responsibility of this girl is on our shoulder. Then, she is yours. Please ensure her safe journey to your home. We are weak, unable to bear this responsibility."

Boasting once more, he retorted: "No problem."

The Bhojhpuri bodyguards stood up with their sticks and started twisting their mustache.

The groom started his return journey with the bride through that famous field, the one of Taltori. Modhumolla was the head of the bandits. When it was two past midnight, he appeared with his gang with torch. Somehow the Bhojhpuri stalwarts had no chance. No one can stand up against the famous bandit-head, Modhumolla.

Kamala was scared. Leaving the carriage, she was rushing to hide behind a bush. At that moment appeared behind her, an old man, Habir Khan. Everyone reveres him like a prophet/saint. Habir stood erect and said: "Sons, all of you retreat! I am Habir Khan."

The bandits said: "Khan Sahib, we can't cross you, but why are you spoiling our business?"

Regardless, they had to yield.

Habir Khan reassured Kamala: "You are my daughter. Have no fear. Let's go to my house from this trouble spot."

Kamala was very hesitant. Habir told her, "I understand. You are the daughter of a Hindu Brahmin, hesitating to come to the house of a Muslim. But remember one thing - those who are true Muslims, they respect pious Brahmins too. You will stay at my house like a female in a Hindu house. My name is Habir Khan. My house is very near. Come on, I will ensure your safety."

Kamala is a Brahmin's daughter. It was hard for her to overcome her hesitations. Habir once again reassured, "See, while I am alive, there isn't anyone in this region who can endanger/undermine your faith. Come with me, have no fear."

Habir Khan brought Kamala to his home. Incredibly, in this eight-division home, there is one division (mahal) in which there is a Shiva temple and all the arrangements for Hindus.

An old Hindu Brahmin presented himself. He said, "Dear, you ought to treat this place as a Hindu home, you won't have to worry about your caste (jaat)."

Kamala kept crying and asked, "Please inform my uncle so that he can take me back."

Habir said, "Child, you are mistaking. No one from your household will take you back. They will abandon you in the street. If you don't believe, you can try."

Habir Khan accompanied Kamala to the gate of his uncle's home, and said, "I will wait here."

Kamala entered the house and clinging to the neck of her uncle submitted, "Dear uncle, please do not abandon me."

Her uncle started crying too. Her aunt observed and lashed out, "Make her leave, she brings misfortune. Ruining everything, she has come back from the home of outcaste (bejaat). Don't you have any shame?"

Uncle explained, "We have no way. Ours is a Hindu home, no one will take you back. Moreover, we might become outcaste too."

Kamala paused with her head low for a while, and in slow steps she crossed the gate and went along with Habir Khan. The door of her uncle became shut forever on her.

She found all the arrangement of adhering to her faith at Habir Khan's home. Habir Khan reassured, "None of my boys will enter your compartment. You can continue to lead your life, worship, Hindu customs with this old Brahmin."

There is a little bit of history behind this house. People used to call this particular division the Mahal of Rajputani. One previous Nawaab brought a Rajputani girl, but she remained separated upholding her caste. She used to perform her Shiva worship. Sometimes used to go on trips to holy places. The aristocrat Muslims of that time used to respect pious Hindus. All the other Hindu begums who were given shelter in this mahal by this Rajputani, they had no problem to uphold their own ways and customs. It is said that Habir Khan is the son of that Rajputani. Even though he has not taken up his mother's faith, he used to revere her mother in his heart. His mother is no longer alive, but in her memory he has dedicated himself to protect and shelter all those Hindu girls who are abandoned and/or persecuted by the society.

What Kamala found there, she has never found such at her own home. All the time her aunt used to abuse her, maligning her as evil or misfortune: her family/kins would be saved when she dies. Her uncle sometimes would secretly purchase some cloths for her; she had to hide those from her aunt. At the Mahal of Rajputani, she became like an empress (mahishi). There was so much care and attention for her. All around her were servants taking care of her. Moreover, they were also from Hindu families.

At last the wave of youth greeted her body. One of the boys secretly started courting her in her Mahal. Her heart was stolen.

One day she told Habir Khan, "Father, I have no religion. The one whom I love, that fortunate one is my religion. The religion that has always deprived me of all the love and tenderness of life, abandoned me in humiliation/disgrace, I have not been able to see the gratification of Devta in that religion. I can't forget that the Devta there has constantly humiliated me. I found love for the first time, father, in your house. I learnt that there is value of life even of the most wretched girls. The Devta that gave me shelter, I adore him amidst my respect for his love and affection. He is my Devta - he is neither Hindu nor Muslim. I have endeared your second son, Karim. I have accepted him in my heart. My religion is tied with his. Please make me a Muslim. I have no objection - maybe I will carry the heritage of both religion.

Time passed by. There remained little chance that she will ever meet her folks again. That she is not one of them any more, Habir Khan tried to help her forget - she became Meherjan.

In the mean time, the occasion of the marriage of the another daughter of her uncle came up. It was arranged just like before. The trouble also presented itself in the same way. On the way to the groom's house, the same bandits attacked them. Last time they were deprived of their prey, now they wanted revenge.

But right behind them came a roaring voice, "Don't" (khabardar!).

"Look, the band of Habir Khan is here again to spoil everything."

When all those with the bride escaped in a hurry, there appeared the spear of Habir Khan on which was hoisted a flag of half-moon. That spear was being held up fearlessly by a woman!

She said to Sharala, "Sister, have no fear. I am here to bring to you the shelter of him who gives shelter to everyone. He does not bother with anyone's caste."

"Uncle, please accept my Pranam (reverence). Don't be afraid, I won't touch your feet. Now please take her to your home. She is still unblemished. Inform my aunt that I have grown up with so much of her provisions against her will, I could never imagine that today I would be able to repay in this way. I have brought a red silken dress (lal cheli) for her. Please take it, and this brocade (kingkhab) seat. If in future ever my sister is under distress, please remember that she has a Muslim sister to protect her."
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Old November 22nd, 2004, 04:11 PM
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Jai-paaji,

What is the moral of the story ?

--LandYA
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Old November 22nd, 2004, 04:15 PM
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The carrot, the egg, and the coffee bean

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling.

It seemed that, as one problem was solved, a new one arose. Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to a boil. In the first, she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans.

She let them sit and boil, without saying a word. In about twenty minutes, she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me, what do you see?"

"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," the young woman replied. She brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. She then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity - boiling water - but each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak.

The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior. But, after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened! The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?" Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong but, with pain and adversity, do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength? Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit but, after a death, a breakup, or a financial hardship, does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and a hardened heart? Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavour.

If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hours are the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?

[Source Unknown; Appropriate Copyright applies]
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Old November 22nd, 2004, 05:20 PM
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Quote:
Originally posted by landyaBhai
Jai-paaji,

What is the moral of the story ?

--LandYA
Was there supposed to be a moral ..

Anyway its obvious
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Old November 22nd, 2004, 07:08 PM
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Koi mujhe bataye ki iska moral kya hai :-) apun key sar ke upar sey chala gaya story ka maksad ...

Oye jai-paaji, tantu, others , Where art thou

Oh !
Sage of sages ...
Advisor of advisors ...
Whitest beard among beards ...
LLKC among LLKCs ...

abey koi toh bataye ki es story ka moral kya hai

hamar pai-laagoo usko ...

--LandYA
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Old November 22nd, 2004, 07:29 PM
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Appointment in Samarra


A merchant in Baghdad sent his servant to the market.
The servant returned, trembling and frightened. The
servant told the merchant, "I was jostled in the market,
turned around, and saw Death.

"Death made a threatening gesture, and I fled in terror.
May I please borrow your horse? I can leave Baghdad
and ride to Samarra, where Death will not find me."

The master lent his horse to the servant, who rode away,
to Samarra.

Later the merchant went to the market, and saw Death in
the crowd. "Why did you threaten my servant?" He asked.

Death replied,"I did not threaten your servant. It was
merely that I was surprised to see him here in Baghdad,
for I have an appointment with him tonight in Samarra."


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Old November 22nd, 2004, 11:26 PM
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Thumbs up Service and Work

One evening a Swamiji of Sri Ramakrishna Mutt was addressing the participants on the concept of work culture.

One of the participants asked the following question to the Swamiji.I am a senior manager of Materials Department and I joined this organization 25 years ago as an Engineer Trainee and over the last 25 years I have gone through every experience in the organization and I am now the senior manager looking after the material function independently. During the initial part of my career, the job was very challenging and interesting. Every day was exciting and I looked forward to each day with lot of interest.

However, all those exciting days are gone since I do not find my job any more interesting because there is nothing new in my job.
As I have seen and handled every conceivable situation there is no more challenges in my work. I am now feeling bored because I am doing a routine job.

However, Swamiji, I am living in the same house for over forty years, I am the son for the same parents for over forty years, I am the father for the same children for the past twenty years and the husband for the same lady for the past thirty years. In these personal role I do not feel bored and the passage of time has not taken away the zeal from me.

Please tell me why I am bored of the routine in the office and not in the house?'

This was a very interesting question and we were all very anxious and curious to know what the Swamiji had to say! The response from him was very interesting and convincing.

He asked the executive the question "Please tell me for whom you mother cooks?"

The executive replied that obviously the mother cooks for others.

Then the Swamiji said that the mother 'serves' others and because of this service mindedness, she is not feeling tired or bored.But in an office, we 'work' and not 'serve'. Anything we consider as service will not make us feel bored. That is difference between serving and working. He asked the executive to consider his work as service and not merely a work!

This was a very interesting analysis! Whenever you put a larger context around your work and see a broader meaning for your work, you will take interest in your work. An awareness of larger purpose of your job and an appreciation of its importance will make a very big difference in your internal energy. You should believe that you are here for a purpose and should believe in the spiritual context of your role.
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Old November 23rd, 2004, 01:56 PM
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Talking The two wolves

A Native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt. He said, "I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one." The grandson asked him, "Which wolf will win the fight in your heart?" The grandfather answered: "The one I feed."

[Source Unknown; Appropriate Copyright Applies]
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Old November 24th, 2004, 01:22 PM
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The seeker of truth

After years of searching, the seeker was told to go to a cave, in which he would find a well. 'Ask the well what is truth', he was advised, 'and the well will reveal it to you'. Having found the well, the seeker asked that most fundamental question. And from the depths came the answer, 'Go to the village crossroad: there you shall find what you are seeking'.

Full of hope and anticipation the man ran to the crossroad to find only three rather uninteresting shops. One shop was selling pieces of metal, another sold wood, and thin wires were for sale in the third. Nothing and no one there seemed to have much to do with the revelation of truth.

Disappointed, the seeker returned to the well to demand an explanation, but he was told only, 'You will understand in the future.' When the man protested, all he got in return were the echoes of his own shouts. Indignant for having been made a fool of - or so he thought at the time - the seeker continued his wanderings in search of truth. As years went by, the memory of his experience at the well gradually faded until one night, while he was walking in the moonlight, the sound of sitar music caught his attention. It was wonderful music and it was played with great mastery and inspiration.

Profoundly moved, the truth seeker felt drawn towards the player. He looked at the fingers dancing over the strings. He became aware of the sitar itself. And then suddenly he exploded in a cry of joyous recognition: the sitar was made out of wires and pieces of metal and wood just like those he had once seen in the three stores and had thought it to be without any particular significance.

At last he understood the message of the well: we have already been given everything we need: our task is to assemble and use it in the appropriate way. Nothing is meaningful so long as we perceive only separate fragments. But as soon as the fragments come together into a synthesis, a new entity emerges, whose nature we could not have foreseen by considering the fragments alone.

[Source Unknown; Appropriate Copyright applies]
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Old November 24th, 2004, 01:30 PM
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The Japanese master

A great Japanese master received a university professor who came to enquire about wisdom. The master served tea. He poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept on pouring. The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself. 'It is overfull. No more will go in!' 'Like this cup,' the master said, 'you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you wisdom unless you first empty your cup?'

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Old November 24th, 2004, 01:43 PM
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Food for thought ... you say. Here is something to dwell upon ... an old Rajasthani soother-

All sunshine makes a registan (desert)
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Old November 24th, 2004, 06:43 PM
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Talking

A food for thought:

Good and Evil are two sides of the same coin
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Old November 24th, 2004, 07:07 PM
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Stupid Opinions ... All Mine ... worth 2 cents ... you can have for FREE.
Jamke Dushmani Karo Humse ... Magar Bas Itni Gunjaesh Hai Aapse
Kal Agar Hum Dost Ban Jaayen ... To Sharminda Na Ho!


LLKC ... pure and unadulterated ... LLKC!

दूर से देखने पर तो यही लगता था ... 'वाह! वहाँ क्या मजा होता होगा!'
बुरे फसें 'मजाल', आ कर जन्नत में ... हमने तो सोचा था, कुछ नया होता होगा!
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