A retired MD of a Bank came to a branch in his city where nobody recognised him, as the branch is run by new generation people.
He had to identify himself as ex-MD of the same Bank.
Curiously one employee of that branch asked him, "how is life after retirement" ?
The ex-MD said,
I have realised that after Chess game is over, the King and the Soldiers are kept in the same box"..
Positions, Designation are all temporary...be humble and human and down to earth which is always permanent.
A Monk of the RamaKrishna Mission was being interviewed by a journalist from NY. The journalist started
interviewing the Monk as planned earlier.
Journalist - "Sir, in your last lecture, you told us about Jogajog (contact) & Sanjog (connection). It's really confusing. Can you explain ? "
The Monk smiled and apparently deviating from the question asked the journalist:
"Are you from New York?"
Journalist - "Yeh..."
Monk - "Who are there at home ? "
The Journalist felt that the Monk was trying to avoid answering his question since this was a very personal and unwarranted question. Yet the journalist said: "Mother has expired. Father is there. Three brothers and one sister. All married..."
The Monk, with a smile on his face, asked again: -
"Do you talk to your father?"
The journalist looked visibly annoyed...
The Monk -
"When did you talk to him last?"
The journalist, supressing his annoyance said: "May be a month ago."
The Monk:
"Do you brothers and sisters meet often ? When did you meet last as a family gathering?"
At this point, sweat appeared on the forehead of the journalist. Now who is conducting the interview, the Monk or the Journalist.
It seemed that the Monk was interviewing the Journalist.
With a sigh, the Journalist said:
"We met last at Christmas two years ago."
The Monk:
" How many days did you all stay together ?"
The Journalist (wiping the sweat on his brow) said : "Three days..."
Monk: "How much time did you spend with your Father, sitting right beside him?"
The journalist looking perplexed and embarassed and started scribbling something on a paper...
The Monk: "Did you have breakfast, lunch or dinner together? Did you ask how he was? Did you ask how his days are passing after your mother's death?"
Drops of tears coming out started to flow from the eyes of the journalist.
The Monk held the hand of the journalist and said:
"Don't be embrassed, upset or sad. I am sorry if I have hurt you unknowingly...
But this is basically the answer to your question about "contact and connection (Jogajog and Sanjog)". You have 'contact' with your father but you don't have 'connection' with him. You are not connected to him. Connection is between heart and heart... sitting together, sharing meals and caring for each other ; touching, shaking hands, having eye contact, spending some time together...You brothers and sisters have 'contact' but you have no 'connection' with each other...."
The journalist wiped his eyes and said : "Thanks for teaching me a fine and unforgettable lesson"
This is the reality today.
Whether at home or in the society everybody has lots of contacts but there is no connection. No communication... . Everybody is in his or her own world.
Let us not maintain just "contacts" but let us remain "connected" ; caring, sharing and spending time with all our dear ones.
The Monk was none other than Swami Vivekananda
Let us learn from it and improve our lives!
Just a point to ponder....
The average age of the Army Man is 23 years.
He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy.
Not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer in the capital of his country, but old enough to die for his country.
He's a recent school or college graduate; he was probably an average student from one of the Kendriya Vidyalayas, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a rickety bicycle, and had a girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left for IMA, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away.
He listens to rock and roll or hip -hop or bhangra or gazals and a 155mm howitzer.
He is 5 or 7 kilos lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting the insurgents or standing guard on the icy Himalayas from before dawn to well after dusk or he is at Mumbai engaging the terrorists.
He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.
His pride and self-respect, he does not lack.
He is self-sufficient.
He has two sets of combat dress: he washes one and wears the other.
He keeps his water bottle full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.
He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own wounds.
If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands.
He can save your life - or take it, because he's been trained for both.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed to do so.
He feels every note of the Jana Gana Mana vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to 'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove their hands from their pockets, or even stop talking.
In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom.
A tricolour, somewhere in his uniform, A tricolour, he holds high, A tricolour he unfurls with pride after every misson.
Sometimes he comes home wrapped in one.
Beardless or not, he is not a boy.
He is your nation's Fighting Man that has kept this country free and defended your right to Freedom.
He has experienced deprivation and adversity, and has seen his buddies falling to bullets and maimed and blown.
And he smiles at the irony of the IAS babu and politician reducing his status year after year and the unkindest cut of all, even reducing his salary and asking why he should get 14 eggs a week free! And when he silently whispers in protest, the same politician and babu aghast, suggest he's mutinying!
Wake up citizens of India! Let's begin discriminating between the saviours of India and destroyers
Are you with the Faujis❓
Jai Hind !!!
Zhao Zi Hao's made it big in business so he spent money buying a piece of land in the suburbs (on China mainland) and built a 3 -storey villa. He had an impressive swimming pool in the garden with a 100-year-old Lychee Tree in the backyard to boot. In fact, he bought the property precisely because of this tree. His wife loved eating lychees.
During renovations, his friends urged him to get guidance from a fengshui master, just to thread on the side of caution. Zhao Zi Hao never quite believed in Fengshui yet surprising he took the advice to heart and went out of his way to engage a feng shui master from Hong Kong. The Grand Master was non other than Master Cao who's been in the profession for 30 over years, renowned in the Fengshui circle. They had a meal in the city then Zhao Zi Hao drove the Master to the suburbs. Along the way, when cars behind them tried to overtake, Zhao Zi Hao would simply give way.
The Master laughingly remarked: "Big Boss Zhao, your driving is really safe." He spoke really fluent mandarin for someone from HK.
Zhao Zhi Hao laughed at the remark: “Usually people who need to overtake have some urgent matter to attend to, so we shouldn't hold them up.”
Arriving at a small town the streets grew narrow and so Zhao Zi Hao slowed down.
A giggling child suddenly darted out from an alley and as the child ran across the street, Zao still didn't speed up. Instead, he kept his gaze on the alley, as if waiting for something. Out of the blue, another child darted out, chasing after the child ahead.
Master Zao was surprised and asked: “How did you know there'd be another child following suit?”
Zhao Zi Hao shrugged: “Well, kids are always chasing after each other so it's impossible for a child to be in such glee without a playmate.”
Master Cao gave him a big thumbs up and laughed out loud: “That's really considerate of you!”
Arriving at the Villa, they got down from the car. Suddenly about 7 to 8 birds flew off from the backyard. Seeing so, Zhao said to Master Cao: “ If you don't mind please wait here for a little while.”
“What's the matter?" Master Cao was taken aback.
"Oh, there's probably some kids stealing lychees in the backyard. If we walk in now we might give them a fright, let's not risk anyone falling off the old Lychee Tree." Zhao replied humorously.
Master Cao stayed silent for a while before stating matter-of-factly: “This home doesn't need a fengshui evaluation anymore.”
Now it's Zhao's turn to be shocked: “Why's that?”
“Any place graced with your presence naturally becomes the property with the most auspicious fengshui.”
When our minds prioritize others’ peace and happiness, the one who benefits is not just others, but ourselves too. When a person is considerate of others at all times, then this person has unconsciously accomplished sainthood. The saint is in fact a person who through benefiting others become enlightened.
Hope your home too does not need a Fengshui master
