The Real meaning of Kurukshetra war

 It is said in the texts that 80% of the fighting male population of the civilization was wiped out in the eighteen days #Mahabharata war.

Sanjay, at the end of the war went to the spot where the greatest war took place; Kurukshetra.

He looked around and wondered if the war really happened, if the ground beneath him had soaked all that blood, if the great Pandavas and Krishna stood where he stood.

“You will never know the truth about that!” said an aging soft voice.

Sanjay turned around to find an Old man in saffron robes appearing out of a column of dust. 

“I know you are here to find out about the Kurukshetra war, but you cannot know about that war till you know what the real war is about.” the Old man said enigmatically.

“What do you mean?” 

"The Mahabharata is an Epic, a ballad, perhaps a reality, but definitely a philosophy."

The Old man smiled luring Sanjay into more questions.

“Can you tell me what the philosophy is then?” Sanjay requested.

"Sure." began the Old man. 

"The Pandavas are nothing but your five senses, sight, smell, taste, touch and sound...and do you know what the Kauravas are?" he asked narrowing his eyes. 

 "The Kauravas are the hundred vices that attack your senses everyday but you can fight them... and do you know how?

Sanjay shook his head again.

“When Krishna rides your chariot!”

The Old man smiled brighter and Sanjay gasped at that gem of insight.

"Krishna is your inner voice, your soul, your guiding light and if you let your life in his hands you have nothing to worry."

Sanjay was stupefied but came around quickly with another question.

“Then why are Dronacharya and Bhishma fighting for the Kauravas, if they are vices?”

The Old man nodded, sadder for the question. 

"It just means that as you grow up, your perception of your elders change. The elders who you thought were perfect in your growing up years are not all that perfect. They have faults. And one day you will have to decide if they are for your good or your bad.  Then you may also realize that you may have to fight them for the good. It is the hardest part of growing up and that is why the Geeta is important."

Sanjay slumped down on the ground, not because he was tired but because he could understand and was struck by  the enormity of it all. 

 "What about Karna?" he whispered.

“Ah!” said the Old man. “You have saved the best for last. Karna is the brother to your senses, he is desire, he is a part of you but stands with the vices. He feels wronged and makes excuses for being with the vices as your desire does all the time. Does your desire not give you excuses to embrace vices?"

Sanjay nodded silently. He looked at the ground, consumed with a million thoughts, trying to put everything together and then when he looked up the Old man was gone.... He had disappeared in the column of dust..... leaving behind the great philosophy of Life!

Everything you love probably be lost..but!

 At 40, Franz Kafka (1883-1924), who never married and had no children, walked through the park in Berlin when he met a girl who was crying because she had lost her favourite doll. She and Kafka searched for the doll unsuccessfully.

Kafka told her to meet him there the next day and they would come back to look for her.

The next day, when they had not yet found the doll, Kafka gave the girl a letter "written" by the doll saying "please don't cry. I took a trip to see the world. I will write to you about my adventures."

Thus began a story which continued until the end of Kafka's life.

During their meetings, Kafka read the letters of the doll carefully written with adventures and conversations that the girl found adorable.

Finally, Kafka brought back the doll (he bought one) that had returned to Berlin.

"It doesn't look like my doll at all," said the girl.

Kafka handed her another letter in which the doll wrote: "my travels have changed me." the little girl hugged the new doll and brought her happy home.

A year later Kafka died.

Many years later, the now-adult girl found a letter inside the doll. In the tiny letter signed by Kafka it was written:

"Everything you love will probably be lost, but in the end, love will return in another way."

#kafka #thedoll

A pencil is not a pencil

Once upon a time........A boy was watching his grandmother write a letter. At one point he asked:

‘Are you writing a story about what we’ve done? Is it a story about me?’

His grandmother stopped writing her letter and said to her grandson:

I am writing about you,... actually, but more important than the words is the pencil I’m using. I hope you will be like this pencil when you grow up.’

Intrigued, the boy looked at the pencil. It didn’t seem very special.

‘But it’s just like any other pencil I’ve ever seen!’

‘That depends on how you look at things. It has seven qualities which, if you manage to hang on them, will make you a person who is always at peace with the world.’

‘First quality: you are capable of great things, but you must never forget that there is a hand guiding your steps. We call that hand God, and He always guides us according to His will.’

‘Second quality: now and then, I have to stop writing and use a sharpner. That makes the pencil suffer a little, but afterwards, he’s much sharper. So you, too, must learn to bear certain pains and sorrows, because they will make you a better person.’

‘Third quality: the pencil always allows us to use an eraser to rub out any mistakes. This means that correcting something we did is not necessarily a bad thing; it helps to keep us on the road to justice.’

‘Fourth quality: what really matters in a pencil is not its wooden exterior, but the graphite inside. So always pay attention to what is happening inside you.’

 'Fifth quality: it always leaves a mark. in just the same way, you should know that everything you do in life will leave a mark, so try to be conscious of that in your every action.'

'Sixth quality : It gets shorter and shorter while in use, so also life. Make the most while it lasts.'

'Finally the Seventh quality of pencil is : It writes till the very end. Be useful and productive till your dying day.'

The pencil may vanish but the marks it leaves stay on ...