Category Archives: short story

THE STORY OF SYAMANTAKA JEWEL

short story, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Copyright@shravancharitymission

                      (A Story from Srimad Bhagavata Purana)

    Satrajit, a Yadava king, was a great devotee of the Sun-God Surya. He had ten wives and three daughters named Satyabhama, Bratini and Prasvapini. Sun-God Surya, greatly pleased, offered him the dazzling Syamantaka jewel as a present, which had the power of conferring great wealth upon its owner. When Satrajit wore the jewel, its brilliance was such that he was mistaken for the sun god himself.

     During a meeting, Krishna asked Satrajit to let King Ugrasena have the jewel, so that it could be used for the good of all. Proud of his possession, Satrajit refused to part with the Syamantaka.Top of Form

    One day, Satrajit’s brother, Prasena, borrowed the jewel from Satrajit and went into a forest to hunt. There, a lion killed him, took the jewel, and went inside a cave. The cave was of Jambavan, the immortal king of the bears. Jambavan killed the lion and took the jewel, and offered it to his son as a toy. When Satrajit did not hear from his brother, he suspected that his brother must have been killed for the jewel, and suspected Krishna of committing the deed. The rumour spread, and Krishna set out to recover the jewel himself in vindication.

    Learning that Prasena had been slain by a lion, which had in turn been killed by a bear on the side of a mountain, Krishna entered the bear’s den. He discovered that the jewel was being used as a toy by a child. Hearing the child’s nurse scream at the sight of the intruder, an enraged Jambavan attacked Krishna. They fought for 28 days and nights before Jambavan finally realised that Krishna was Rama’s reincarnation. Awestruck, Jambavan glorified Krishna and offered the Syamantaka, as well as his daughter, Jambavati, in marriage to the deity. Krishna accepted both of them and provided moksha to the bear king. He then summoned Satrajit to a royal assembly and narrated the tale of the recovery of the Syamantaka. He restored the jewel into the hands of the Yadav king Satrajit. Deeply ashamed of his accusation, Satrajit decided to offer Krishna the hand of his daughter, Satyabhama, regarded as a ‘jewel among women’, as well as the Syamantaka. Krishna married Satyabhama, but declined to receive the jewel, regarding it to be the property of Satrajit, as its donor had been Surya.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Like it and Share it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

SHORT STORY: THE PRICK OF CONSCIENCE by Kamlesh Tripathi

short story, shravan charity mission, snippet, Uncategorized, , , , , , ,

Copyright@shravancharitymission

Enjoy my short story published in The Assam Tribune on January 5, 2025. Happy reading.

THE PRICK OF CONSCIENCE


    It reminds me of a time when I used to go to a park every day, early in the morning. The place was absolutely still and quiet and reminded me of those neat and peaceful words — pin-drop silence.
    It was a long walk from where I stayed. It was also the midway for me, where I used to take a break. The park was located on the banks of a river and was about 25 to 30 feet higher than the normal flow of the river water, and in between the two, there was a deep gradient. To secure the area from anyone falling into the river, a rugged railing had been raised only recently. The other end of the park touched the busy road, coming all the way from the airport and passing into the main city. Beyond the river, there was a tall, dark hillock that gave a great sense of scenic fulfilment.
    All around, it was lush green, especially during the monsoons, when the gushing water level, at times, used to rise and ripple past the edges of the gradient to enter the park. I normally sat there each day for about ten to 15 minutes, for some meditation and introspection that refreshed me to take on the tough day ahead. I had relocated to the city some six months ago as an inspector in the police department. In the park, I also met many health freaks coming for morning walks, and some just to lollygag.
    Close to the main gate of the park, there was a small tea stall. I guess it grossed all its revenue early in the morning while serving the morning walkers. Once in a while, it also served hot bhajiyas that tasted deadly with the hot tea.
    I had become a little pally with the tea stall owner, who was young and appeared somewhat educated. There was always a newspaper lying in the stall where tea buffs often rushed through the latest headlines, only to exchange informal barbs.
     As a regular visitor, I had started recognising quite a few faces there. Gradually, I even got to know the names of a few. One out of them happened to be an old person who was normally quiet. One day, the stall owner, who knew that I was a police inspector, introduced me to him. His name was Robert.
    In a matter of days, I started interacting with Robert and referred to him as ‘Uncle’. He must have been around 70. He spoke very little. But whenever he did, he was to the point. He was normally in his own world, and nothing amused him.
    The days passed on as usual. One day, Robert walked up to me and asked, “Are you in the police?”
    I said, “Yes.”
    “Then can you do me a favour?”
    I asked, “What favour?”
    He looked at me for a while and said, “Many years ago, when I was young, while playing in this park, I fought with my best friend. Unfortunately, the fight took an ugly turn. As a result, I pushed him down the slope over there. Sadly, he fell into the river. It was the peak of the monsoon when the river was in spate and he was swept away, never to return.”
    “Oh God! But did you tell the police that you had pushed him down the slope?”
    “No!”
    “But why?”
    “Because I was scared I’ll be arrested. So, the police registered a case of an accident stating that he didn’t know how to swim, so he drowned.”
    “So then, why are you telling me your story now, after so many years?”
    “After 50 years, to be precise, to clear my conscience. You’re in the police, if you want, you can still arrest me for the crime.”
    “Have you told this to anyone else?”
    “No.”
    “But why?”
    “Because he was my next-door neighbour.”
    “So how does that matter?”
    “It matters because, years later, I married his sister.”
    “But does she know that you were the one who pushed her brother?”
    “A few years ago, I did tell her. She couldn’t bear the shock and passed away within weeks.”
    “And what about your children?”
    “I have two sons. Both are in Australia. They don’t know about my crime. But maybe you can tell them after I’m arrested or I’m gone.” After that, he picked up his walking stick and started walking. Perhaps, he was heading home.
    After the unwelcome conversation, a couple of days passed, but I did not see Robert. One day, when I reached the tea stall. I was informed by the stall owner that Robert had committed suicide. I was shocked to hear the news. Perhaps, he was preparing for it, mentally, when he told me about his act of crime. I morosely attended his funeral, where I even got to meet his two sons, Richard and Simon, but I did not mention anything.
    After that, I continued with my morning walk, as usual. One day, when I arrived at the tea stall, the owner gave me a sealed envelope that Robert had left for me. I opened it. There was another sealed cover within, bearing the name and address of Richard in Australia, with a request to send it to him through a reliable courier, which I did.
    Robert, after losing his wife, couldn’t have taken a chance with his sons– he didn’t want them to commit suicide. But he wanted to confess his crime to his children, which he did after he was gone.
    Most certainly, your pricking conscience is the most relentless jury in you.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Like it and Share it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

THE STORY OF AJAMILA … A story from Srimad Bhagvatam by Kamlesh Tripathi

article, casual causerie, moral lesson, mythology, short story, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Copyright@shravancharitymission

    Once, in the city of Kanyakubja (present-day Kannauj), there lived a Brahmin named Ajamila. He had studied all the Vedic scriptures from a very young age. He was noble in character and conduct. Well-mannered, free from false pride, he was upright and kind to all living beings.

    One day, when Ajamila was gathering flowers in the forest for his daily puja, he saw a beautiful enchantress. Her beauty captivated him, and immediately he fell under her wicked spell.

    Soon, Ajamila drove out his faithful wife and elderly parents from his home. He married the enchantress and had many children with her. Ajamila, who had once led a chaste life, now spent his days trying to please his immoral wife. He indulged in many sinful activities that he would have never done before.

    Despite being born a Brahmin, Ajamila started killing innocent animals to feed his large family. He began stealing and cheating others, and even encouraged his sons to follow a similar sinful path.

    Among all his children, Ajamila was especially fond of his youngest son. His name was Narayana. The child’s innocent behaviour and playful ways had won over Ajamila’s heart. He spent most of his time with Narayana.

    Years passed, one day, when Ajamila was old and on his deathbed, he saw three Yamadutas, the terrifying servants of Yamaraja, the god of death, coming towards him. They had come to take Ajamila’s soul and punish him for all the sins that he had committed in his life.

    Gripped by intense fear, Ajamila began to weep. In panic, he started calling out the name “Narayana,” which was his beloved son’s name. And, he kept calling ‘Narayana’ on and on, without realising that he was actually chanting the holy name of Lord Narayana.

    The Vishnudutas, who were messengers of Lord Vishnu, heard the holy name of their Lord being chanted by Ajamila on his deathbed, and immediately, they rushed to the scene.

    Just as the Yamadutas were about to pull Ajamila’s soul out of his body, the Vishnudutas arrived there and tried to stop them. But the Yamadutas refused to listen. They insisted that Ajamila should be punished for his sins. The Vishnudutas then explained, “Ajamila has already atoned for his sins. Not only those sins committed in this life, but also for those committed over millions of lifetimes, simply by chanting the holy name of Narayana in his helpless state. The name of the Lord is divine. Even though Ajamila was unaware, each time he called his son by his name Narayana, he was actually chanting the Lord’s name and cleansing himself of his sins. Lord Narayana protects those who chant His Holy Name.”

    The Yamadutas were thus silenced by the profound wisdom of the Vishnudutas. Defeated, they returned to Yamaraja, their master, and recounted all that had happened. Yamaraja concurred with what they had been told. He said, “What you have heard is true. Although I’m your master, Lord Narayana is the Supreme Lord of the entire universe, and we are all His servants.” He added, “Just as a king has ministers to carry out his commands, I and other demigods work under the direction of the Supreme Lord.”

    Yamaraja then explained the rewards of chanting the holy name of Lord Narayana:

    “Even the most sinful person is taken to the Supreme Lord’s abode, and he is freed from all punishment if he chants the holy name of Lord Narayana at the time of his death. Lord Narayana will always protect those who chant His holy name.”

    He then advised his servants never to bring a person who chants the Holy Name or engages in the devotional service to Lord Narayana. Instead, they should bring only those who do not chant or fail to remember the lotus feet of the Supreme Lord.

    Ajamila sincerely bowed to the Vishnudutas when he realised he had been saved from the Yamadutas. He expressed gratitude for rescuing him from going to Naraka. Reflecting on his past sins, Ajamila was filled with remorse for having abandoned his first wife and parents. He now clearly saw the wrongs he had committed.

    Ajamila now understood the immense power in chanting the holy name of Lord Narayana. He deeply regretted wasting his life in sinful acts and resolved that, if given a second chance, he would dedicate himself to the service of the Lord.

    By the mercy of the Lord Narayana, Ajamila was granted a second chance to live. He seized the opportunity and went to Haridwar, where he spent the rest of his life chanting and serving Lord Vishnu, also known as Lord Narayana.

    One day, when Ajamila was meditating, he saw a golden aircraft descending from the sky. Inside it were the same Vishnudutas who had saved him earlier. They had now come to take him to his eternal home, the abode of Lord Narayana.

    Ajamila peacefully left his body on the banks of the sacred Ganga River in Haridwar and joined the Vishnudutas to serve his Supreme Lord forever.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Like it and Share it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

19/7/2025: The Soul Connection … by Kamlesh Tripathi

article, short story, story, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Copyright@shravancharitymission

Don’t miss my short story ‘The Soul Connection’ published in the Speaking Tree, Times of India, New Delhi Edition on 19/7/25. Happy reading.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Like it and Share it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

Mythology: When God’s Get Angry … by Kamlesh Tripathi

short story, spiritual, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Copyright@shravancharitymission

Bhavan’s Journal 31.12.22

SHORT STORY
WHEN GOD’S GET ANGRY

    Once, Lord Shiva and his wife, Parvati, were engaged in a lengthy conversation on Mount Kailash. Shiva was explaining the holy Vedas to his wife. The discussion went on for several years. This fatigued Parvati to the point that one day she lost her concentration. The short-tempered Shiva became very angry, and in a fit of rage, he cursed Parvati. He shouted at her, “Parvati, you are only as intelligent as a fisherwoman. So go and take birth as a fisherwoman.” And immediately after that, Parvati disappeared.
    Shiva loved Parvati deeply and enjoyed her company immensely. After her sudden departure, he became very sad and lonely. He also felt terribly guilty because he had unnecessarily created a problem both for himself and her because of his anger. But there was nothing he could do now to bring back his beloved wife. With each passing day, his sadness only grew deeper. He sat quietly in one corner of his abode, brooding over his rashness. Meanwhile his vahana, Nandi, the bull, was deeply moved by his master’s plight. After some time, he could no longer bear to see his suffering. So he decided to do something about it to bring back Parvati by hook or by crook.
Meanwhile, Parvati had taken birth as a baby girl on earth. The chief of a fishing community saw her lying alone under a tree near his village. He did not have a child, so he decided to bring her up as his own daughter. He named her Parvati. Years went by. Parvati grew up into a beautiful young girl. She was very intelligent, loving and kind-hearted. Everybody liked her immensely in the community.
By now, Nandi had finalised his covert plan to bring back Parvati. He turned himself into a huge fish and went to live in the sea, where Parvati lived. He started troubling the fishermen of her community. He would tear their fishing nets and overturn their boat often. Soon, the fishermen were scared to go out fishing. They went to their chief and told him about their plight. The chief declared that whosoever captured the rogue fish would wed his beautiful daughter. There were several young men who wanted to marry Parvati. They tried their level best to capture the fish, but to no avail.
Finally, in desperation, the chief prayed to Lord Shiva to rescue his men from the evil fish. Parvati too prayed to Lord Shiva for help. Shiva heard her prayers. It made him joyful, having found an excuse to go to her. He decided to rush to the earth immediately to help her. He took the form of a handsome young fisherman and met the chief. He offered to catch the mighty rogue fish, which had been troubling his people. The chief received him with great warmth and told him that, as declared by him, he would offer his daughter in marriage to him if he were successful. There was nothing better that Shiva could have hoped for. Nandi was only too happy to see his Lord Shiva coming to catch him. He offered no resistance and was caught in no time. The chief’s happiness knew no bounds. As promised, he immediately organised a grand wedding in the village where Parvati and Shiva were married. Shiva immediately returned to Mount Kailash with his beloved wife Parvati. He had realised that it was not good to act in anger. Nandi too realised that even Gods were not spared from the emotion of anger.

Bhavan’s Journal Dec 31, 2022

Written and Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Like it and Share it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

SHORT STORY: THE CAMEL AND HER BABY

short story, short story on wild life, shravan charity mission, Uncategorized, , , , , , , ,

Copyright@shravancharitymission

THE CAMEL AND HER BABY

One day, a camel and her baby were chatting. The baby asked, “Mother, why do we have humps?” The mother replied, “Our humps are for storing water so that we can survive in the
desert”.

“Oh”, said the child, “and why do we have rounded feet, mother?” “Because they are meant to help us walk comfortably in the desert. These legs help us move around in the sand.”

“Alright. But then why are our eyelashes so long?”

Mother replied, “To protect our eyes from the severe dust and sand of the desert. They are the protective covers for the eyes”, replied the mother camel.

The baby camel thought for a while and said, “So we have humps to store water for desert journeys, rounded hooves to keep us comfortable when we walk in the desert sand, and long eyelashes to protect us from the sand and dust during a desert storm. So, then what are we doing in a zoo?”

The mother was dumbfounded.

Moral: Your strengths, skills, and knowledge are useless if you are not in the right place.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Like it and Share it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

STORY: TWO FRIENDS AND THE BEAR

parable, short story, Uncategorized, , , ,

Copyright@shravancharitymission

    Vijay and Raju were friends. Once, while on a holiday, they went into a forest. There, they were enjoying the beauty of nature. Suddenly, they saw a bear charging at them. They were frightened. Raju, who knew how to climb a tree, ran towards one and climbed it in no time. He did not think of Vijay, who did not know how to climb a tree.

    Vijay got nervous and thought for a second. He had heard, animals don’t prefer dead bodies. So, he fell on the ground and held his breath. The bear sniffed him for a few moments and thought he was dead, and decided to carry on. Upon witnessing this scene, Raju asked Vijay. ‘What did the bear whisper in your ears?’ 

Vijay replied, ‘The bear asked me to keep away from friends like you.’ 

The moral of the story is: A friend in need is a friend indeed.

Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

                                                                       Author, Poet & Columnist

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Share it if you like it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, which include both children and adults, and have a huge variety in terms of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause. The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

 

Short Story: The Mystery of Poropkar Villa by Kamlesh Tripathi

short story, spiritual, story, storytelling, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Copyright@shravancharitymission

    The dilapidated villa was crouched between the dark gorge and the sloping hillock. Its windows were like vacant eyes. Beyond the hillock, tea gardens stretched away, like a patchwork of shadow and the fading green, under the encroaching dusk. My car had stalled on the single, empty road, leaving me stranded. I decided to walk, hoping to find help in the nearest village, not expecting the crumbling double-story structure to materialise from the gloom.

    Rain began to fall, a cold drizzle that quickly soaked my clothes. The darkness deepened, pressing in. That’s when the villa caught my eye, a flicker of warm light in the front room, a beacon of desperate hope. Relief washed over me; shelter, and perhaps a mechanic in the morning.

    Approaching, I noticed the name etched above the door: ‘Poropkar Villa’. The path to it was flanked by tea shrubs that released a damp, aromatic scent. I hesitated on the road; the villa’s other windows were swallowed by blackness. Only that single light flickered. Finally, chilled and weary, I decided to knock on the door.

    My first knock was tentative, met only by the drumming rain. I waited, then knocked harder. Footsteps shuffled inside. Relief surged again. A male voice, thin and reedy, called out, “Who’s there?”

    ‘I’m Ajoy. My car broke down nearby. Could I trouble you for shelter for the night?’

   The door creaked open. An old man stood silhouetted against the light. ‘Please, come in, Ajoy. Call me Dibyajyoti.’

    His voice snagged at a memory. Familiar, yet altered by age. Voices didn’t usually jar like that.

    On the wall, an ornate clock ticked. Its hands pointed at 7:30 pm. My watch read 8:00 pm. ‘Your clock seems to have stopped,’ I said.

    He smiled faintly. ‘I prefer it slow. The world rushes enough. Let my time crawl.’

    The lagging clock echoed another memory: Pranjal, a colleague years ago, who always kept his watch half an hour behind. We’d worked together briefly before losing touch. Pranjal, the one who disappeared after that awful business with a girl…

    A jolt went through me. ‘Dibyajyoti… are you by any chance Pranjal?’ His eyes, deep-set and shadowed, fixed on me. ‘Who are you?’

    ‘Ajoy. We worked together. Pranjal, where is that girl you were seeing? And why here? Why change your name?’

    He sighed, a sound like dry leaves skittering. ‘A long story. After we lost contact, the affair continued. One night, after a movie, I dropped her off near her home. But she never arrived. They found her… in the river days later. Raped and murdered. The police came for me. No alibi, no defence. They sentenced me. Job gone, family gone. Years in prison. I screamed my innocence, but her family… they wouldn’t listen. Later, after I was locked away, friends found evidence – she was taken by goons that night. But it was too late for me. When I came out, I couldn’t face anyone. I came here, to the hills. Did some charity, saved some money, bought this place and changed my name. Pranjal is dead. Call me Dibyajyoti.’

    A chill deeper than the rain settled in my bones. Hunger gnawed, but the villa was bare except for water. Dibyajyoti suggested we check the car. Maybe it would start now. ‘Nothing to eat here,’ he said. ‘The distant village might have something.’

   We walked back. To my surprise, the car started on the first crank. I thanked him profusely, promising to visit again soon.

    An hour’s drive brought me to a cluster of lights, a village. A roadside dhaba glowed invitingly. It was well past midnight. I ordered a meal, shivering despite the warmth inside. An old man nursing a chai looked up.

    ‘Sir, you’re far from home. Where are you coming from?’

    ‘From the Poropkar Villa. Met an old friend there, Dibyajyoti.’

    The old man’s face hardened. ‘Dibyajyoti? He died five years ago. No one lives in that cursed house. He murdered a girl, served his sentence and came back here to rot.’

    ‘What nonsense!’ I protested. ‘I spent hours with him just now! We were colleagues! He told me he was framed for a murder that he didn’t commit! His real name is Pranjal!’

    The dhaba owner leaned forward, his voice low and grave. ‘Framed? Perhaps. And the girl’s family knew that he was framed. He confessed this on his deathbed, they say. He changed his name to Dibyajyoti to avoid embarrassment—to escape his own ghost.’

    The hot food turned to ash in my mouth. Hours spent with a ghost? His plea for understanding? His desperate need to tell me the truth before he parted?

    The old man’s words hung in the smoky air. ‘Dibyajyoti came to see you, then. He needed to tell someone whom he knew from before. Someone who might understand him. You were the right person. He told you that he was innocent. Now, maybe, his soul will finally rest.’

    Outside, the rain had stopped. The silence felt heavy, filled with the weight of a terrible secret finally spoken, and a spirit, perhaps, finally set free. I recollected suddenly. Dibyajyoti never shook hands nor served any food. Well, ghosts don’t do that, but they have a heart. The Poropkar Villa that night crumbled under heavy rains.

Written and posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Like it and Share it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

SHORT STORY: IS DEATH IMPORTANT?

short story, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , ,

Copyright@shravancharitymission

IS DEATH IMPORTANT?

Everyone fears death, but birth and death are laws of creation.  It is essential for the balance of the universe. Without it, humans would dominate one another. 

How? Read this story:

*Once, a king visited a sage who was sitting under a tree outside his kingdom. He asked, “O Swami! If there is any herb or medicine that can grant immortality, please let me know.”*

The sage replied, 

“O King! Please cross the two mountains in front of you. There, you will find a lake. Drink its water, and you will become immortal.”

*After crossing the two mountains, the king found a lake. As he was about to drink the water, he heard painful groans. Following the sound, he found a very weak man lying in pain.*

When the king asked the reason, the man said, “I drank the water from the lake and became immortal. After I turned a hundred years old, my son threw me out of the house. I have been lying here for the last fifty years with no one to care for me. My son has passed away, and my grandchildren are now grown. I have stopped eating and drinking, yet I am still alive.”

*The king pondered, “What is the use of immortality with old age? What if I gain youth along with immortality?” He went back to the sage to find a solution and asked, “Please tell me how I can gain both immortality and youth.”*

The sage replied, “After crossing the lake, you will find another mountain. Cross it, and you will find a tree filled with yellow fruits. Eat one of them, and you will gain both immortality and youth.”

*The king crossed another mountain and found a tree filled with yellow fruits. As he was about to pluck and eat one, he heard loud arguments and fighting. He wondered who could be quarrelling in such a remote place.*

He saw four young men arguing loudly. The king asked why they were fighting. One of them said, “I am 250 years old, and the man on my right is 300 years old. He is not giving me my share of the property.” 

*When the king asked the man on the right, he said, “My father, who is 350 years old, is still alive and hasn’t given me my share. How can I give mine to my son?”*

The man pointed to his father, who was 400 years old, and shared the same complaint. All of them told the king that their endless fight for property had forced the villagers to expel them from the village.

*Shocked, the king returned to the sage and said, “Thank you for teaching me the importance of death.”*

The sage then said, *”Because death exists, there is love in the world.”*

*”Instead of trying to avoid death, live each day and every moment happily.* Change yourself, and the world will change.”

1. *When you chant the name of God while bathing, it becomes a holy bath.*

2. When you chant while eating, the food becomes sacred.

3. *When you chant while walking, it becomes a pilgrimage.*

4. When you chant while cooking, the food becomes divine.

5. *When you chant before sleeping, it becomes meditative sleep.*

6. When you chant while working, it becomes devotion.

7. *When you chant at home, it turns into a sacred space.*

*Live wisely, live well. Have a good life*.

Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Like it and Share it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***

Panchatantra: The Curious Monkey

book corner, short story, short story on wild life, snippet, story, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Copyright@shravancharitymission

“Wow! What’s that?” The curious monkey asked his friends–fellow monkeys. The friends, looking in the direction he was pointing, saw what had attracted his attention. It was a log of wood.
“What’s so interesting about a log of wood?” His friends asked.
Instead of answering the friends, the curious monkey ran to the log and jumped on it. Looking at the wedge in the middle of the log, the monkey reached out to touch it.
A little further down, a group of woodcutters were laughing and enjoying their meal, unaware of the prank the curious monkey was about to play. They had been cutting this log of wood all morning and had managed to cut a part of it, but they had to take a break for lunch. Not wanting the log to close up again, they had placed a wedge in the slit to keep it open.
This wedge was what the curious monkey began to tug at, while the other monkeys stepped aside. Suddenly, the wedge snapped and the log of wood shut, trapping the curious monkey’s leg.
While all his friends ran away in fear, the sad little monkey sat there in pain, waiting for the woodcutters to return from their break.
Lesson: Unnecessary interference in others’ matters may interfere with the matters of your life.

Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

Author, Poet, & Columnist

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Like it and Share it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life-threatening diseases, especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers, including children and adults, and have a huge variety of content. We also accept donations for our mission. Should you wish to donate to the cause of cancer? The bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

***