stories

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Hungry for knowledge will never go hungry! Rajasir


 

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Essential Philosophy: Happiness, Relationships, and Sex

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You don’t miss a particular thing until you have become addicted to it. Same is with sex and drugs. I tell you to fall in love, enjoy sex, but never be addicted to it because it is going to be very painful if you are unable to fulfill your desire at the required time. Sex has been suppressed for ages but more than ninety percent people secretly look for methods which stimulate them. Nowadays there are internet sites, porn literature, and porn films. They pay for sex and want to come out of the suppressed state. Sex makes you fool, I agree with it because this is the only reason which makes people desist from making love in public. The reason is nobody wants to look so foolish. Now, in California, which is the most advanced stupid place in the whole world, they have hotels for peeping Toms -- you have to pay for it. Inside two fools are making love, and many around the room are sitting and looking and enjoying what the two fools are enjoying.

 

Essential Philosophy: Flow With Life

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I felt something at that time and it seemed as if a ray of light had entered my mind. I was smiling, and after a while I began to laugh. I extended my hand and I wanted to touch the rat. I was quite amazed that the poor creature did not run away. I really touched it and it did not mind at all. That experience made me think about all the theories about humans and animals which had been stuffed into my mind in my schools and colleges. There was definitely something between me and my rat and it had not been mentioned in any course book which I had read. That something unknown did not need to be inquired because I had experienced it. I don’t want to question it and I don’t want to make any theory because it is possible that you begin to wait for your rat with a biscuit in your hand night after night but that rat never comes. No, I don’t want you to try to train your rat in the way I reacted with my rat. You might have a different rat, a very angry rat, and the moment you touch it, it bites you.
 
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The Love Story of a Movement

by Raja Sharma

 
  The Love Story of a Moment


She is the most beautiful girl in this world; she loves me more than any other thing; she gives meaning to my life; and she is made for me, etc. are the lines which are so banal that love has gradually begun to lose its weight and platonic aspect of human existence. I had never, before the tragically grotesque and magical moment which I am going to relate, realized that a moment could be enough to change every preconceived notion of love. That one moment, that one glance, and that storm changed the meaning of life forever. It has become an inevitable part of my existence, a page in my life on which the love story of my life has unwillingly been scribbled.

Notwithstanding its momentary existence, it left behind the sense of ages. To categorize this story under the heading of tragedy, tragic love, or misfortune would be injustice, for it is so subtle that words don’t suffice to express it. I have experienced it and I am sure that once you have gone through this small story your concept will definitely and drastically change.

After the partition of British India, riots had broken out everywhere, Hindus killing Muslims, and Muslims killing Hindus in their respective parts of the land, left to them by their former British masters, India and Pakistan. I was in a border town of Rajasthan, in the Hindu dominated area. I am a witness to the ugly and hateful dance of humanity.

It was my first major assignment given to me by the newspaper I had been working for. I had to cover the situation in that area. The editor had already sensed that something big was going to happen there, so I was sent there. Being a journalist, it was my duty to meet people, ask them about their village, their neighbours, and the tension that prevailed in the area.

One night, I was given shelter by a villager. The very next morning, the riots broke out. The minority community was the target. The rioters were burning houses, looting shops, killing people, and shouting slogans. The Muslims were trying to go over the border to their Pakistan but the people, the Hindus, who chased them, did not want them to go there alive. Not even children were spared. Being a Hindu by birth, I felt safe there because the majority belonged to my people.

Suddenly, a Muslim family appeared from a house from the other side of the road. I was on this side of the road. Old parents and their young daughter and a little son began to run for their lives. A group of our people saw them and ran towards them. They had swords, tridents, and knives in their hands. A few policemen were standing with me but they were mere spectators because they belonged to the majority community too.

They killed the old parents on the spot and the little child was crushed to death, under the feet of the rioters.

The young girl, around 20, ran across the road. When she was about three yards from me, she fell unconscious. I ran towards her and lifted her in my arms. Her shawl had fallen off and my eyes stuck to her bright face. She was the most beautiful apparition I had seen in my life up to that day. Her young body was so light in my arms that I felt I could easily escape from there, carrying her. That touch, her closed eyes, and warm breaths reached my face when I lifted her up and almost held her tightly to my chest. I knew that I was in love and I had to save her. I began to run, without looking back. The policemen did not assist me at all. I did not know where to go and how to save her. The most important thing that I wanted to do was to change her dress because her kurta and salwaar distinguished her from the Hindu girls and women. The embroidery on her dress eloquently spoke that she was a Muslim.

Suddenly, I heard shouts and I looked back. A group of the rioters was running towards me. I realized that it was useless to run. I began to think the words which I would use to beg for her life. But before I could open my mouth, a young man pushed me and the girl fell off my arms. She was lying unconscious on the ground. A sword came down on her throat and I saw the head cut off. Her body stirred and then stilled forever. I was on the verge of collapse but I controlled myself.

I sat down beside the road, with tears in my eyes. The rioters passed by me, laughing and shouting slogans. I did not dare to look in their direction because I was not ready to believe that humans could be so cruel.

My lover, my prospective lover, with whom I had already decided to spend the rest of my life without knowing who she was and what her name was, who had fallen into and off my arms in a moment, was never going to open her eyes to see that someone was going to repent all his life for the beloved. I did not want to cover the story of that area because I had become the part of a story which was going to touch the hearts of millions of my readers.

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

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From One Hell to Another


From One Hell to Another


Now she knew what all that was about. She had never thought from this angle. How easily these sleuths had joined the threads and woven an inescapable web! She believed that she was in a very deep shit. She knew that everything was against her. She began to reassess the situation, point by point-she was Muslim and she had married a Christian, her brother was arrested after the 9/11, her brother was a religious teacher, her husband had gone to Pakistan Occupied Kashmir, she had joined him after six months, they had trespassed in to Indian Territory, they were arrested, her brother was in Kashmir. It was not going to be easy for any one of them. Finding no help nearby, she began to weep. The women tried to console her but she did not stop...................


After about two hours, the FBI people went back. She had escaped from one hell to enter another. How she was going to get out was beyond her thoughts..........

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