Tag Archives: rain

BOOK TALK: THE HAPPY PRINCE– By Oscar Wilde

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Khidki (Window)

–Read India Read–

THE HAPPY PRINCE

Oscar Wilde

    Some souls think of others even after death and some don’t even while they are alive. Many of you may have read this beautiful story some time back. Nevertheless, let me narrate it for you, once again.

    Long ago, there lived a ‘Happy Prince’ whose statue was placed on a tall column in the city, at a height for all the citizens to see and admire. The statue was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold. And for the eyes, it had two bright sapphires with a large ruby glowed on to the sword-hilt.

    As a prince he was greatly loved and revered by the Mayor and even by the town councillors.  His sobriquet as ‘happy prince’ had become so famous that there was seldom a passer by, who did not appreciably comment on the statue. For example:

     ‘Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?’ asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. ‘The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.’

    One night there flew into the city a little Swallow. Whose friends had gone off to Egypt some six weeks before, but he had stayed behind. For, he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. Whom, he had met early in the spring when he was flying down the river, after a big yellow moth. Since then he had been attracted by her slender waist and he had stopped to converse with her.

    But since the Swallow did not get proper response from the Reed he too decided to leave for Egypt to see the Pyramids. All day long he flew, and in the night he arrived at the city. Where, he was looking for a place to settle down when he saw the statue of the ‘Happy Prince’ on the tall column and alighted just between the feet of the statue.

     ‘I have a golden bedroom,’ he chirped. And then looked around and prepared to sleep. But as he was putting his head under his wings, a large drop of water fell on him. That got him curious. As there was not a single cloud in the sky and all the stars were twinkling.

     Then another drop fell.

     ‘What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?’ he said; ‘I must look for a good chimney-pot,’ and he determined to fly away.

     But before he could even open his wings, a third drop fell. When he looked up, and saw – Ah! what did he see?

     The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears that were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.

     ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

     ‘I am the Happy Prince.’

     ‘Why are you weeping then?’ asked the Swallow.

     ‘When I was alive and had a human heart,’ answered the statue, ‘I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.’

     ‘What, is he not solid gold?’ murmured the Swallow to himself.

     ‘Far away’ continued the statue in a low musical voice, ‘in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.’

    ‘I am waited for in Egypt,’ said the Swallow.

     ‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.

     The Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow felt sorry. ‘It is very cold here,’ he said ‘but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.’

     ‘Thank you, little Swallow,’ said the Prince.

     So the Swallow plucked the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with it, in his beak over the roofs of the town.

     He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed over the river and various other places. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings. ‘How cool I feel,’ said the boy, ‘I must be getting better;’ and he sank into a delicious slumber.

    Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. ‘It is curious,’ he remarked, ‘but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.’

     ‘That is because you have done a good action,’ said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep.

     When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath.

         ‘To-night I go to Egypt,’ said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect.

     When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. ‘Have you any commissions for Egypt?’ he cried; ‘I am just starting.’

     ‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me one night longer?’

     ‘I am waited for in Egypt,’ answered the Swallow.

    ‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.’

     ‘I will wait with you one night longer,’ said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. ‘Shall I take him another ruby?’

     ‘Alas! I have no ruby now,’ said the Prince; ‘my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.’

     ‘Dear Prince,’ said the Swallow,’I cannot do that;’ and he began to weep.

     ‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘do as I command you.’

     So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.

     ‘I am beginning to be appreciated,’ he cried; ‘this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,’ and he looked quite happy.

     The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. ‘Heave a-hoy!’ they shouted as each chest came up. ‘I am going to Egypt!’ cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.

     ‘I have come to bid you good-bye,’ he cried.

     ‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince,’will you not stay with me one night longer?’

     ‘It is winter,’ answered the Swallow, and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm. My companions are building a nest in the Temple. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.

     ‘In the square below,’ said the Happy Prince, ‘there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.

     ‘I will stay with you one night longer,’ said the Swallow, ‘but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.’

     ‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘do as I command you.’

     So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. ‘What a lovely bit of glass,’ cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.

     Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. ‘You are blind now,’ he said, ‘so I will stay with you always.’

     ‘No, little Swallow,’ said the poor Prince, ‘you must go away to Egypt.’

     ‘I will stay with you always,’ said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince’s feet.

     All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.

     ‘Dear little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.’

     So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves warm. ‘How hungry we are’ they said. ‘You must not lie here,’ shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.

     Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.

     ‘I am covered with fine gold,’ said the Prince, ‘you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.’

     Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. ‘We have bread nod’ they cried.

     Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.

     The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker’s door when the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.

     But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more.’Good-bye, dear Prince!’ he murmured, ‘will you let me kiss your hand?’

     ‘I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.’

     ‘It is not to Egypt that I am going, ‘ said the Swallow. I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?’

     And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.

     At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.

     Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: ‘Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!’ he said.

     ‘How shabby indeed!’ cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.

     ‘The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,’ said the Mayor; ‘in fact, he is little better than a beggar!’

     ‘Little better than a beggar,’ said the Town Councillors.

     ‘And there is actually a dead bird at his feet,’ continued the Mayor. ‘We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.’ And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.

     So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. ‘As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,’ said the Art Professor at the University.

     Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. ‘We must have another statue, of course,’ he said, ‘and it shall be a statue of myself.’

     ‘Of myself,’ said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.

     ‘What a strange thing!’ said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry.’This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.’ So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.

     ‘Bring me the two most precious things in the city,’ said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.

     ‘You have rightly chosen,’ said God, ‘for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.’

*****

By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Share it if you like it

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

(Archived in 7 prestigious libraries of the US, including, Harvard University and Library of Congress. It can also be accessed in MIT through Worldcat.org. Besides, it is also available for reading in Libraries and archives of Canada and Cancer Aid and Research Foundation Mumbai)  

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

(Archived in Connemara Library, Chennai and Delhi Public Library, GOI, Ministry of Culture)

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

(Launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2014)

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(Co-published by Cankids–Kidscan, a pan India NGO and Shravan Charity Mission, that works for Child cancer in India. The book is endorsed by Ms Preetha Reddy, MD Apollo Hospitals Group. Book was launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2016)

TYPICAL TALE OF AN INDIAN SALESMAN

Story of an Indian salesman who is lowly qualified but fights his ways through uncertainities to reach the top. A good read for all salesmen. Now available in Amazon.com

(CAN BE BOUGHT FROM ON LINE BOOK STORES OR WRITE TO US FOR COPIES)

*****

 

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LESSON FROM THE MAID

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LESSON FROM THE MAID

    Hoosh—hoosh … bhaw—bhaw … hut—hut … shoo—shoo. I began poking, the off white cow, with a small twig from the inside of my gate. But it refused to budge, while, it was happily chewing the cud on a wet and a slushy day. She had appropriately grounded herself on the dry narrow isthmus that connected the very short distance between my gate and the road, blocking the entire passage. There is an old wives tale that says. Cows tend to lie down when it is about to rain. Researchers have even discovered, that cows stand up for longer durations when it is hot, proving there is a definite link between their behavior and the weather. They also suggest, cows lie down when the weather is cooler, which is, just before it rains.

    When the hoosh–hoosh … shoo—shoo and the hut—hut didn’t work. I took the small side gate and went out. Close, to her. She was XL in size and was in a relaxing mood it appeared. I held her tail, and started shaking it, to and fro, vigorously, thinking it’ll get up. But it was in no frame of mind to acquiesce. I poked her in the tummy with the twig again but that too had no effect. Then I thought of catching her long ears. But she swayed her long horns towards me. So, I had to retreat out of scare.

     I then decided to get inside, the way I had come out, through the small side gate. Meanwhile, my wife too, came out with the objective of closing the gate. Thinking, I must have left for my urgent appointment by now, and as usual, without closing the gate. But, she was rather surprised to find me standing there, trying to shoo the cow away. When, she too, joined me in the game of hut—hut. But I guess all that was on deaf years.

    Since, the cow was glued to the ground next to the main gate. We now decided to push the gate on her slowly, thinking she might get up with the pressure, but I guess the force wasn’t enough. I then decided to honk, thinking she is a road creature and might understand the language better. But that too was of no consequence. I looked up. It wasn’t going to rain. Then why was she sitting for so long I wondered.

    In all of this about fifteen minutes must have passed. So, I called the person I was about to see, and told him I’ll be late because of the road blockage. We were running out of options now. I switched on the music of the car aloud thinking this too might spoil her peace forcing her to move. But that also did not work.

    We again decided to push the gate on her but it made no difference. By now about twenty minutes had passed and I was really getting late when I saw my old maid coming with a mug filled with water. She was perhaps watching our ordeal for some time now. And when she was close to the cow she threw the water on her. I gave her a arrogant … questioning look, ‘what are you up to?’ but when I turned around I saw the cow was beginning to stand up. And in a jiffy she started moving and soon she was gone.

    I looked back at the maid. She had a smirk on her face when she said, ‘bhaiya ji guy pani se darti hai’ (Sir! cow is scared of water) which a super intelligent person like me didn’t know.

    I quickly opened the gate and cranked the car. I put it in reverse gear and it started rolling. Is when, my wife looked at me to acknowledge the very fact that fools don’t have horns on their head. We could only laugh at ourselves.

    We all consider ourselves to be wizards one way or the other. But there is so much in life we still don’t know about, or at least I didn’t know … like cows drink water but are scared of pani.

230917

*

By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Share if you like it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

(Archived in 7 prestigious libraries of the US, including, Harvard University and Library of Congress. It can also be accessed in MIT through Worldcat.org. Besides, it is also available for reading in Libraries and archives of Canada and Cancer Aid and Research Foundation Mumbai)  

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

(Archived in Connemara Library, Chennai and Delhi Public Library, GOI, Ministry of Culture)

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

(Launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2014)

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(Co-published by Cankids–Kidscan, a pan India NGO and Shravan Charity Mission, that works for Child cancer in India. The book is endorsed by Ms Preetha Reddy, MD Apollo Hospitals Group. Book was launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2016)

(CAN BE BOUGHT FROM ON LINE BOOK STORES OR WRITE TO US FOR COPIES)

*****

 

FASCINATING MONSOON

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      An overcast day, makes a lazy weekend that gives an ethereal feel, when you wake up to the light morning drizzle, tip-tap tip-tap. You realise you don’t have to go for work today. But you certainly can take your raincoat and step out, to witness the groovy nature in its mystifying colours, all splashed and splattered for you, so go there and enjoy. Where, the mind feels light, body feels like flying and the senses divine. The combination is indeed rare. Otherwise, there is always so much to do and so much to brood in your routine life.

    I don’t expect to see the holy sun today. Like me he too is on leave. I guess they have a tie-up—the sun and the clouds. When the clouds appear, the sun goes on leave and doesn’t return till clouds leave. Sun might be strong, but today he looks weak, even when he is above the clouds. That reminds me of man. Who too like clouds, tries to block ways of God but is often weather beaten by time … waqt.

    I step out quietly without a sound. Tina is fast asleep. No lunch to be packed, no hurried breakfast to be tabled. Little Khitkhit for a change, is in her own fantasy, and in a hug with her mother. On the verandah one can see a few uncomfortable pigeons, chirping mynas and even a few jumping sparrows, all trying to shrug the rain water off their feathers. The street lights are still lit because of the overcast. They normally fade with sunlight. The first few drops are rejuvenating. It feels like an unusual dawn that’ll refresh you for the entire year. One can’t but miss the few mongrels hiding under the parapet whimpering … as if the agony wasn’t enough that you’ve sent us rains.

    The exterior is all wet as one tip toes to find that confident rhythm along the roadside that has become one big puddle. There are no children around. They all are in the cozy lap of the weekend, oblivious of the once in a while, fun zone outside. The surroundings are still, even when the drizzle has now become a downpour. I’m intact beneath my raincoat. Except for the milkman and the newspaper wala no one else is seen around, barring a few devoted morning walkers. Even the society guards are catching up on their forty winks.

    Suddenly one gets to see the lightning followed by the sound of thunder. The nature is freaking out. I go past the wide streets with tall buildings all around that is now beginning to wake up to a wet dawn. The winding brooks that have sprung up all over have only become more loud and tuneful.

    And as I walk along, I can’t help but think. Why is man the biggest adversary of nature when nature has provided so much for mankind?

*

By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

                                                      https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Share if you like it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(CAN BE BOUGHT FROM ON LINE BOOK STORES OR WRITE TO US FOR COPIES)

*****

 

POETRY: RAIN-RAIN

Copyright@shravancharitymission

RAIN rain1 rain2

RAIN- RAIN

From the nature’s domain,

Comes the soothing rain,

That washes my strain,

And cleanses my brain.

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For to live and sustain,

I collect all the sludge and insane,

And when the stench becomes overbearing,

She comes to claim.

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In the torrential rain,

She showers and splashes,

Her blessings and gains,

That we all can claim.

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For in the flux and flow of life,

So often I mingle and mangle,

To suit my gains,

And when I lose count of sanity,

I look up for soothing rains.

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She comes every year,

And she comes to everyone,

Some love her and some hate her,

But no one can do without her.

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She’s the almighty,

She’s the TNT,

She’s the bully,

But she is also life giving.

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We abuse her,

We waste her,

We tie her,

Yet we can’t hold her.

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We drown when she over showers,

We parch when she doesn’t shower,

And from rain to water,

She runs the cosmos full throttle.

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And in the merry-go-round of life,

When I feel tormented,

I look up to the skies moment by moment,

To find out where is she in disguise?

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And when the first showers,

Strike mother earth,

Nature blossoms humans smile,

And ambience recoils.

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And every year,

When my chips are down,

I know it’s about time,

For the soothing showers to come down.

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And as she comes pouring down,

I walk downhill and to the downtown,

In my mackintosh and gumboots,

Criss crossing the puddles and the ponds,

And holding on to my pleasant horizons.

*

Is when the child in me says,

Enjoy the cloudy overcast,

And celebrate the rain,

For it won’t stay,

And such is the bliss of soothing rain.

****

By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

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. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

(Archived in 7 prestigious libraries of the US, including, Harvard University and Library of Congress. It can also be accessed in MIT through Worldcat.org. Besides, it is also available for reading in Libraries and archives of Canada and Cancer Aid and Research Foundation Mumbai)  

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

(Archived in Connemara Library, Chennai and Delhi Public Library, GOI, Ministry of Culture)

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

(Launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2014)

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(Co-published by Cankids–Kidscan, a pan India NGO and Shravan Charity Mission, that works for Child cancer in India. The book is endorsed by Ms Preetha Reddy, MD Apollo Hospitals Group. Book was launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2016)

TYPICAL TALE OF AN INDIAN SALESMAN

Story of an Indian salesman who is lowly qualified but fights his ways through uncertainities to reach the top. A good read for all salesmen. Now available in Amazon.com

(CAN BE BOUGHT FROM ON LINE BOOK STORES OR WRITE TO US FOR COPIES)

*****