I’m still buzzing with nervousness and excitement as the teenager inches forward, but she doesnt need to know that. My smile is easy and practiced. Im almost comfortable in it. She clutches a book, my book, to her chest like the last treasure of her life. We shake hands and the pen almost slips out from between my fingers.
“Such a big fan,” she whisper-squeals. I chuckle.
All of us have some situations where we see or learn something new after growing up and go “my life is a lie”. We’ve all been there. Some of us take it in stride and adapt to the new knowledge. Some take it as a personal offense. I’m mostly the former, but I’m digressing.
The tale of Rumpelstiltskin isn’t a new one. Whether it’s the original version or some other local version, every household tells it. Every grandma knows it. Every child has heard it.
Till date, I have heard/read at least four versions. I’ve read of a few others as well.
It is fascinating tale of greed and betrayal. Some writers today have taken up the challenge of retellings, and while I haven’t read them yet, I’m sure they can’t be too shabby. Continue reading “The Morals of Rumpelstiltskin”
Maybe all you get are opportunities to do good, and all that bad you do ain’t much bad at all, but because God put you in a position to always do good, when you do bad, its like you let God down.
A break between my exams saw Mitch Albom’s Have a Little Faith on my desk. It is hardbound, with a jacket that gives the impression of being a beloved old prayerbook, or something akin to an old diary of someone you just met.
Now that I’ve read it I can’t think of any cover more befitting of the story told within its pages.
The chronicles of the Reb and the Pastor are brought along side by side, and portrayed almost simultaneously. They run in tandem, each their own little world, and though worlds apart, each connected to the other through something inexplicably human, something that beats at the very core of our conscience.
The feeling of embarrassment at having to deal with a childhood mentor on a personal level is one I share with Mitch, although I was hardly recognized enough to be asked for a eulogy. (Not that we do eulogies in our faith; remembering the dead mostly consists of praying for them, preferably at their graves.) The confusion and nervousness were palpable from the first page. And just like being around Al grew on Mitch, the book grew on me too. It felt somewhat like I think it would if I could get to know my grandfather now. He was no preacher, but he was wise beyond anything I could hope to achieve. Reading about the Reb Albert felt like living an opportunity I never got.
Henry’s story had many more ups and downs. If the portion about Al was akin to catching up with childhood friends, the portion about Henry would be making new ones at college. Much more nerve wracking and full of uncertain potholes. The former feeds fuel to the age old fire of bonding and faith, and lends light to the ignition of the later, which seems to spread out into uncharted waters.
There were a couple of things that struck a cord in my heart.
Maybe all you get are chances to do good, and what bad you ain’t much bad at all. But because God put you in a position where you can always do good, when you do bad, its like you let God down.
~Cass
This. In a world where there’s nothing to stop anyone from doing evil, it is faith put in these simple words that holds the lens that could change someone’s paradigm.
Why keep serving God? …Where can you go from God? He’s everywhere.
…You can’t work your way into heaven. Anytime you try to justify yourself with works you disqualify yourself with works. What I’m doing here, everyday, is only my way of saying ‘Lord, regardless of what eternity holds for me, let me give something back to you. I know it don’t even no scorecard, but let me make something of my life before I go.
‘And then, Lord, I’m at your mercy.’
~Henry
All the sufferings and mistakes in his life taught Henry a powerful and all encompassing lesson. These words are the gist of that lesson. Us puny little humans could never even hope for our actions to measure up and make us deserving of prizes. God’s prizes come from His love and His mercy, and if He decides that I don’t deserve His mercy there’s nothing I can do. But I can make other people’s lives better, even if its just a tiny thing, because my actions can measure up to that.
The messages carries forth in this book may sometimes seem trivial and easily derived from common sense, while at others far fetched. Nevertheless, they are important codes to love by, and it is definitely for you if emotional stimulation is what you need in the realm of faith. The human soul relies on emotional instincts when it comes to the question of these things. The unlikely routes as are portrayed, shows us many facets, shared by almost all major religions, that would otherwise not shine.
Some dreams wake me up and leave me in a haze.
I remember seeing the dirty unreachable corners, between the bed and the bookshelf, between the TV stand and that chest of drawers. I remember the old red curtains, faded from continuous direct exposure to the sun, hanging from every one of the abundant windows and doorways. I remember the old paint peeling off the ancient walls.
The TV plays a cliche cinema about a rich girl falling in love with a poor guy. It’s always the same, with slightly different plot points every time. Everyone in the room knows all the actors and actresses and acts as if it were their story. There’s in-scene commentary. There’re sing-alongs every time a song comes up. They can’t count how many times they’ve watched each of these.
Like in “shout”
I love my name. The first two words are long and a hard combination of syllables to remember, and have very beautiful meanings (they’re Arabic words). The nickname is short and easy, and still very beautiful. I love my name, because it is as much my identity as my body, or my mind, or my writing, or my knitting and crocheting, or my reading. It’s all a package.
I love being addressed by my nickname. It makes me feel safe, like I’m home and don’t need to worry about anyone judging. I don’t have to worry about socializing and wondering if I should step it up or down. Continue reading “It’s “O-U””
This has been bugging me for some time.
It’s not the first time I’ve started something only to loose interest somewhere down the line.
Wait. Let’s back up a bit. I used to be the person who was afraid of starting anything. The thought of anything new, or any change, to this day, makes me nervous, and I hate feeling uncomfortable. The start of something new is always a drastic change. It requires effort and constant getting used to. Continue reading “Daily Prompt: Unfinished”
What do you owe your massive word counts to?
There are those legendary days when the words gush out of you like a healthy river. Ever wondered how the current gains it’s velocity?
I don’t know how it is for you, but I’ve pinpointed the glaciers that feed my river.
What I’m going through right now, every avid reader knows by heart. We dread every minute of it, but we go on anyway, because the journey is worth more than the emptiness afterwards.
I just finished reading Winter by Marissa Meyer, the last book in her Sci Fi series The Lunar Chronicles. Continue reading “And They All Lived Happily To The End of Their Days”
Yarnful of Stories 