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The Magic Shoes and Staff « Result #2 on Mar 10, 2009, 3:15am »
Far, far away in a town of India called Chinchini, where in days long gone by the ancient gods in whom the people believed are said sometimes to have appeared to those who called upon them for help, there lived three brothers of noble birth, who had never known what it was to want for food, or clothes, or a house to live in. Each was married to a wife he loved, and for many years they were all as happy as the day was long. Presently however a great misfortune in which they all shared befell their native country. There was no rain for many, many weeks; and this is a very serious thing in a hot country like India, because, when it does not rain for a long time, the ground becomes so parched and hard that nothing can grow in it. The sun is very much stronger in India than it is in England; and it sent forth its burning rays, drying up all the water in the tanks and changing what had been, a beautiful country, covered with green crops good for food, into a dreary desert, where neither men nor animals could get anything to eat. The result of this was that there was a terrible famine, in which hundreds of people and animals died, little children being the first to suffer.
Now the three brothers, who had none of them any children, got frightened at the state of things, and thought to themselves, "If we do not escape from this dreadful land, we shall die." They said to each other: "Let us flee away from here, and go somewhere where we are sure of being able to get plenty to eat and drink. We will not take our wives with us; they would only make things worse for us; let us leave them to look after themselves."
So the three wives were deserted, and had to manage as best they could without their husbands, who did not even trouble to wish them goodbye. The wives were at first very sad and lonely, but presently a great joy came to one of them which made the other two very happy as well. This joy was the birth of a little boy, whose two aunts loved him almost as much as his mother did. The story does not tell how they all got food whilst the famine was going on, though it is very evident that they were not starved, for the baby boy grew fast and was a strong healthy little fellow.
One night all the three wives had the same dream, a very wonderful one, in which the god Siva, who is very much honoured in India, appeared to them. He told them that, looking down from Heaven, he had noticed how tenderly they cared for the new-born baby, and that he wished them to call him Putraka. Besides this he astonished them by adding that, as a reward for the unselfish way in which they had behaved, they would find one hundred thousand gold pieces under the little child's pillow every morning, and that one day that little child would be a king.
The wonderful dream was fulfilled, and the mother and aunts called the boy Putraka. Every morning they found the gold pieces under his pillow, and they took care of the money for him, so that when he grew up he was the very richest man in the whole country. He had a happy childhood and boyhood, his only trouble being that he did not like having never seen his father. His mother told him about the famine before he was born, and how his father and uncles had gone away and never come back. He often said, "When I am a man I will find my father and bring him home again." He used his money to help others, and one of the best things he did was to irrigate the land; that is to say, he made canals into which water was made to flow in times when there was plenty of rain, so that there was no danger of there being another famine, such as that which had driven his father and uncles away. The country in which he lived became very fruitful; everybody had enough to eat and drink; and Putraka was very much loved, especially by the poor and unhappy. When the king who ruled over the land died, everybody wanted Putraka to take his place, and he was chosen at once.
One of the other wise things Putraka did, when he became king, was to make great friends with his Brahman subjects. Brahmans are always very fond of traveling, and Putraka thought, if he were good and generous to them, they would talk about him wherever they went, and that perhaps through them his father and uncles would hear about him. He felt sure that, if they knew he was now a king ruling over their native land, they would want to come back. He gave the Brahmans plenty of money, and told them to try and find his father and uncles. If they did, they were to say how anxious he was to see them, and promise them everything they wanted, if only they would return.
Just what the young king hoped came to pass. Wherever the Brahmans went they talked about the country they came from and the wonderful young king who ruled over it. Putraka's father and uncles, who were after all not so very far off, heard the stories about him, and asked the Brahmans many questions. The answers made them very eager to see Putraka, but they did not at first realize that he was closely related to them. Only when they heard the name of his mother did they guess the truth. Putraka's father knew, when he deserted his wife, that God was going to give her a child soon; which made it even more wicked of him to leave her. Now, however, he forgot all about that, only thinking how he could make as much use as possible of the son who had become a king. He wanted to go back at once alone, but the uncles were not going to allow that. They meant to get all they could out of Putraka too; and the three selfish men, who were now quite old, set off together for the land they had left so long ago.
They arrived safely, and made their way to the palace, where they were received, with great rejoicings. None of the wives, said a word of reproach to, the husbands who had deserted them; and as for Putraka, he was so overjoyed at having his father back, that he gave him a beautiful house to live in and a great deal of money. He was very good to his uncles too, and felt that he had now really nothing left to wish for.
The three wives very soon had good reason to wish their husbands had stayed away. Instead of being grateful for all Putraka's generosity, they were very unkind and exacting, never pleased with anything; and whatever they had given them, they were always trying to get more. In fact, they were silly as well as wicked; for they did not realize that this was not the way to make the king love them or wish to keep them with him. Presently they became jealous of Putraka, and began to wish to get rid of him. His father hated to feel that his son was king, whilst he was only one of that king's subjects; and he made up his mind to kill him, hoping that if he could only get rid of him he might rule over the country in his stead. He thought and thought how best to manage this, and did not at first mean to tell his brothers anything about it; but in the end he decided he had better have them on his side. So he invited them to go with him to a secret place to talk the matter over.
After many meetings the three wicked men decided that they would pay some one to kill the king, first making the murderer they chose swear that he would never tell who had ordered him to do the terrible deed. It was not very difficult to find a man bad enough to take money for such an evil purpose, and the next thing to do was to decide where and when the deed was to be done. Putraka had been very well brought up by his mother, and he often went to a beautiful temple near his palace to pray alone. He would sometimes stop there a long time, winning fresh wisdom and strength to do the work he was trusted with, and praying not only for himself, but for his father, his mother, his aunts and uncles, and for the people he loved so much.
The murderer was told to wait in this temple, and when the young king was absorbed in prayer, to fall suddenly upon him and kill him. Then, when Putraka was dead, he was to take his body and bury it far away in the depths of the forest where it could never be found. At first it seemed likely that this cruel plot would succeed. To make quite sure, the murderer got two other men as wicked as himself to come and help him, promising to give them a share in the reward. But the god who had taken care of Putraka ever since he was born, did not forget him now. As the young king prayed, forgetting everything in his earnest pleading for those he loved, he did not see or hear the evil men drawing stealthily close to him. Their arms were uplifted to slay him, and the gleam of the weapons in the light that was always kept burning flashed upon him, when suddenly the heavenly guardian of the temple, who never left it day or night, but was generally invisible, appeared and cast a spell upon the wicked men, whose hands were arrested in the very act to strike.
What a wonderful sight that must have been, when Putraka, disturbed in his prayers, looked round and saw the men who had come to kill him, with the shadowy form of the guardian threatening them! He knew at once that he had been saved from a dreadful death by a messenger from the god he had been worshipping. As he gazed at the men, the guardian faded away and he was left alone with them. Slowly the spell cast on them was broken, and they dropped their weapons, prostrated themselves, and clasped their hands in an appeal for mercy to the man they had meant to destroy. Putraka looked at them quietly and sadly. He felt no anger against them, only a great thankfulness for his escape. He spoke to the men very sternly, asking them why they wished to harm him; and the chief murderer told him who had sent them.
The knowledge that his father wished to kill him shocked and grieved the young long terribly, but he controlled himself even when he learnt the sad truth. He told the men that he forgave them, for they were not the most to blame; and he made them promise never to betray who had bribed them to kill him. He then gave them some money and told them to leave him.
When Putraka was alone, he threw himself upon the ground and wept very bitterly. He felt that he could never be happy again, never trust anyone again. He had so loved his father and uncles. It had been such a joy to him to give them pleasure, and yet they hated him and wished to kill him. He wondered whether he was himself to blame for what had happened, and began to think he was not worthy to be king, if he could make such a mistake as he now feared he had made in being so generous to those who could have such hard thoughts of him as to want to take his life. Perhaps after all it would be better for his country to have another king. He did not feel as if he could go back to his palace and meet his father and uncles again. "What shall I do? What shall I do?" he cried, his sobs choking his voice. Never in all his life had he thought it possible to be so miserable as he was now. Everything seemed changed and he felt as if he were himself a different person. The only thing that comforted him at all was the thought of his mother, whose love had never failed him; but even that was spoiled by the remembrance that it was her husband who had wished to kill him. She must never know that, for it would break her heart: yet how could he keep it from her? Then the idea came to him that the best thing he could do would be to go away and never see his own people again.
In the end the poor young king decided that he would go right away as his father and uncles had done; and his mind being made up, he became more cheerful and began to think he might meet with some interesting adventures in a new country, where nobody knew anything about him. As soon as it was light, he wandered off into the forest, feeling, it is true, very lonely, but at the same time taking a certain pleasure in being entirely his own master; which a king can never really be, because he has to consider so many other people and to keep so many rules.
After all Putraka did not find the forest so very lonely; for he had not gone far in it before his sad thoughts were broken in upon by his coming suddenly to a little clearing, where the trees had been cut down and two strong-looking men were wrestling together, the king watched them for a little while, wondering what they were fighting about. Then he called out, "What are you doing here? What are you quarrelling about?"
Parwati and the Beggar-Man « Result #3 on Feb 27, 2009, 2:05am »
Once upon a time there was a town called Atpat. In It there lived a Brahman. He had seven daughters, and when they had reached a marriageable age he asked them who would arrange their marriages and bring them handsome husbands and make their fortunes. The six eldest daughters said, "Papa, Papa, you of course. You will arrange our marriages and bring us handsome husbands and make our fortunes for us."
But the youngest daughter was a naughty little girl. She got into a temper all about nothing, and she stamped her foot, and she turned her back on her father and said, "I will arrange my own marriage, and I will get a handsome husband for myself, and I will make my fortune myself." The Brahman was very angry with her, and so how do you think he punished her? He first searched about and found six rich and handsome boys. Then he married them with great pomp and display to his six eldest daughters.
But the youngest girl he gave in marriage to a miserable beggar-man. You never saw such a beggar-man as he was! There was not a spot on his skin that was not black with leprosy, and his feet and hands had rotted right off. If you had seen him you would have said, "If that beggar-man does not die to-day he will certainly die to-morrow. For he cannot possibly live any longer!" When the marriage was celebrated, the little girl's mother filled her lap with wheat and then handed her over to the beggar-man to see what sort of fortune would be hers.
But in a few days the beggar-man died. His corpse was taken to the burning-ground, and his little widow followed it. But when his relatives wanted to burn the body, she forbade them and told them to go away. For she said, "My fortune is still to come, whatever it may be." They all got round her and tried to persuade her that there was no use in her staying by the corpse, but she would not mind what they said. At last they were quite tired out and went home, leaving her in the burning-ground. When they had gone she took her husband's corpse on to her lap. Then she prayed to the god Shiva and said:
"My parents disown me. O why was I born Both as orphan and widow to live all forlorn?"
As she prayed, she put the wheat which her mother had put into her lap grain by grain in the dead man's mouth. Then she sat there crying until midnight. Now it happened that on that very night Shiva and Parwati were in their chariot driving through the air over that very place. Parwati said suddenly to her husband, "I hear a woman crying, let us go and see what it is."
The god Shiva drove his chariot down to earth. He and Parwati got out and saw the Brahman's youngest daughter crying. They asked her what the reason was, and she told them. Then Parwati pitied her and said, "Your aunt has acquired great merit by her piety and devotions. You go to her and get her to give you all her merit and so you will bring your husband back to life." The god Shiva and Parwati then mounted on their chariot and disappeared.
Next morning the little widow left her husband's body, went to her aunt's house and begged her to give her all the merit which she had acquired, and told her the cause of the request. The aunt was very good and gave her all her own merit. The little widow then went back to the burning-ground and with its aid brought her husband back to life. But this time he was no longer a beggar-man black with leprosy and with feet and hands that had rotted away. He was a beautiful young man with well-shaped feet and a beautiful fair skin, and the little widow took her husband back to her father's house.
"Papa, Papa," she said, "you turned me out, but the gods have brought me back, and good fortune came to me without your bringing it." The father was too frightened of Parwati to say anything, so he held his peace. And the little girl and her husband, the beggar-man, lived happily ever afterwards.
I first heard this story a few years ago from a girl I had met in New York's Greenwich Village.wow power leveling, Probably the story is one of those mysterious bits of folklore that reappear every few years, to be told a new in one form or another. However, I still like to think that it really did happen, somewhere, sometime.
¡¡¡¡They were going to Fort Lauderdalethree boys and three girls and when they boarded the bus, they were carrying sandwiches and wine in paper bags, wow power leveling,dreaming of golden beaches as the gray cold of New York vanished behind them.
¡¡¡¡As the bus passed through New Jersey, they began to notice Vingo. He sat in front of them, dressed in a plain, ill-fitting suit, never moving, his dusty face masking his age. He kept chewing the inside of his lip a lot, frozen into some personal cocoon of silence.
¡¡¡¡Deep into the night, outside Washington, the bus pulled into Howard Johnson's, and everybody got off except Vingo. He sat rooted in his seat, and the young people began to wonder about him, trying to imagine his life: perhaps he was a sea captain, a runaway from his wife, an old soldier going home. When they went back to the bus,wow gold, one of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself.
¡¡¡¡¡°We're going to Florida,¡± she said brightly.¡° I hear it's really beautiful.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°It is, ¡± he said quietly, as if remembering something he had tried to forget.
¡¡¡¡¡°Want some wine?¡± she said. He smiled and took a swig. He thanked her and retreated again into his silence. After a while, she went back to the others, and Vingo nodded in sleep.
¡¡¡¡In the morning, they awoke outside another Howard Johnson's,and this time Vingo went in. The girl insisted that he join them. He seemed very shy, and ordered black coffee and smoked nervously as the young people chattered about sleeping on beaches.wow power leveling, When they returned to the bus, the girl sat with Vingo again, and after a while, slowly and painfully, he told his story. He had been in jail in New York for the past four years, and now he was going home.
¡¡¡¡¡°Are you married?¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°I don't know.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°You don't know?¡± she said.
¡¡¡¡¡°Well, when I was in jail I wrote to my wife,¡± he said. ¡° I told her that I was going to be away a long time, and that if she couldn't stand it, if the kids kept asking questions, if it hurt too much, well, she could just forget me, I'd understand. Get a new guy, I saidshe¡®s a wonderful woman,really somethingand forget about me. I told her she didn't have to write me for nothing. And she didn¡®t. Not for three and a half years.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°And you're going home now, not knowing?¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°Yeah,¡± he said shyly. ¡° Well, last week, when I was sure the parole was coming through, I wrote her again. We used to live in Brunswick, just before Jacksonville, and there's a big oak tree just as you come into town. I told her that if she'd take me back, she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and I'd get off and come home. If she didn't want me, forget itno handkerchief, and I'd go on through.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°Wow,¡± the girl exclaimed. ¡°Wow.¡±
¡¡¡¡She told the others,wow gold, and soon all of them were in it, caught up in the approach of Brunswick, looking at the pictures Vingo showed them of his wife and three children. The woman was handsome in a plain way, the children still unformed in the much-handled snapshots.
¡¡¡¡Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took over window seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oak tree. The bus acquired a dark, hushed mood, full of the silence of absence and lost years. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face into the ex-con's mask, as if fortifying himself against still another disappointment.
¡¡¡¡Then Brunswick was ten miles, and then five. wow gold,Then,suddenly, all of the young people were up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and crying, doing small dances of joy. All except Vingo.
¡¡¡¡Vingo sat there stunned, looking at the oak tree. It was covered with yellow handkerchiefs20 of them, 30 of them, maybe hundreds, a tree that stood like a banner of welcome billowing in the wind. As the young people shouted, the old con rose and made his way to the front of the bus to go home.
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She is my wife, my lover, my best friend. For over fourteen years, our marriage has endured and grown. I can honestly state that after all this time together, my love for Patricia has not diminished in the slightest way.wow power leveling In fact, through each passing day, I find myself more and more enraptured by her beauty. The best times of my life are the times we spend together, whether sitting quietly watching television or enjoying an afternoon at a San Diego Chargers game.
There is no secret to why our marriage has lasted while so many others have failed. There is no formula for success that I can offer, other than to express that the most important feature of our relationship is that it has never lost the sense of romance that bloomed when we first met. Too often marriage kills the romance that was born in the courtship of a relationship. To me, I have always felt that I am still courting Patricia, and therefore the romance has never died.
Romance is not something that can be taught or copied. One can only be romantic through another.wow gold Patricia, my wife of fourteen years, has instilled the romance in me. I am romantic because of her. Patricia has always brought out the best in me. The many aspects of our romance are too numerous to mention. However, there is one special romantic interlude that I began over fifteen years ago.
Before we were married, Patricia and I could not see each other as much as we would have like during the week. The weekends always went too fast, and the days in between dragged on forever. wow power leveling I decided that I needed to do something to make the weekdays go faster, or at least to give us something to look forward to during the week.
And so it began on Wednesday some fifteen years ago: I bought a card and gave it to Patricia. There was no special occasion.wow gold The card was just an expression of how much I loved her and How much I was thinking about her. I picked Wednesday for no special reason other than it was the middle of the week.
Since that day, I have never missed a Wednesday -- Patricia has received a card from me every Wednesday, every week, every month, every year.
The purchase of the card each week is not done out of habit. It is my romantic mission each week to find the right card. At times, my search takes me to many different card stores to find that perfect offering.wow gold I have been known to spend a considerable amount of time in front of the card displays, reading up to a dozen different cards before I choose the right one. The picture and the words in the card must have specific meaning to me and must remind me in some way of Patricia and our life together. The card needs to evoke an emotion in me. I know that if a card brings a tear of happiness to my eyes, I have found the right one.
Patricia awakens each Wednesday morning to find her card, and even though she knows it will be there, she still lights up with excitement when she tears
open the envelope and reads what is inside.wow power leveling And I still get just as excited giving each card to her.
At the foot of our bed is a brass chest that is filled with all of the greeting cards Patricia has received from me over the past fifteen years, hundreds and hundreds of cards, each one full of just as much love as the next. I can only hope that our life together will last long enough for me to fill ten brass chests with my weekly messages of love, affection and most of all thanks for the joy Patricia has brought to my life.
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