It's an old story that we read in Class 3 but with a new ending.
A hat-seller who was passing by a forest decided to take a nap under one of the trees,
so he left his whole basket of hats by the side.
A few hours later, he woke up and realized that all his hats were gone.
He looked up and to his surprise, the tree was full of monkeys and they had taken all his hats.
The hat seller sits down and thinks of how he can get the hats down.
While thinking he started to scratch his head. The next moment, the monkeys were doing the same.
Next, he took down his own hat; the monkeys did exactly the same. An idea came to his mind……
He took his hat and threw it on the floor and the monkeys did that too. So
he finally managed to get all his hats back.
Fifty years later, his grandson, also became a hat-seller and
had heard this monkey story from his grandfather.
One day, just like his grandfather, he passed by the same forest. It was
very hot, and he took a nap under the
same tree and left the hats on the floor.
He woke up and realized that all his hats were taken by the monkeys on the tree.
He remembered his grandfather’s words, started scratching his head and the monkeys followed.
He took down his hat and fanned himself and again the monkeys followed.
Now, very convinced of his grandfather’s idea, he threw his hat on the floor but to his surprise, the monkeys still held on to all the hats.
Then one monkey climbed down the tree, grabbed the hat on the floor, gave him a slap and
Guess!!! Said what???
************ ****
************ *..
***********. .
*********..
********
*****..
****.
***
**.
*.
*
..
.
.
.
"You think only you have a grandfather????!!!!
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com Subscribe in a reader For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
Stories. Short stories, long stories, interesting stories. If you love reading stories, this blog is for you. I have collected stories over a period of time and I upload one story every alternate day. These stories are not my own work but are a collection of interesting items and stories. Apart from stories I also upload any item which I feel is interesting or useful
Friday, October 21, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Two Choices
Two Choices
What would you do?....you make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the same choice?
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.. After extolling the school and its
dedicated staff, he offered a question:
'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection.
Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do.
Where is the natural order of things in my son?'
The audience was stilled by the query.
The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'
Then he told the following story:
Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'
Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.
In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.
In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.
In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again.
Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?
Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.
However, as Shay stepped up to the
plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.
The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.
The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.
As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.
The game would now be over.
The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman.
Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.
Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates.
Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first!
Run to first!'
Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.
He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.
Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!'
Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.
B y the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball . the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.
He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head.
Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.
All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'
Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!
Shay, run to third!'
As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'
Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team
'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'.
Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
AND NOW A LITTLE FOOT NOTE TO THIS STORY:
We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate.
The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.
If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren't the 'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference.
We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things.'
So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:
Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?
A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.
You now have two choices:
1. Delete
2. Forward
May your day, be a Shay Day!
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com Subscribe in a reader For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
What would you do?....you make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the same choice?
At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended.. After extolling the school and its
dedicated staff, he offered a question:
'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection.
Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do.
Where is the natural order of things in my son?'
The audience was stilled by the query.
The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'
Then he told the following story:
Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.
I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'
Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.
In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.
In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.
In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again.
Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?
Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.
However, as Shay stepped up to the
plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.
The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.
The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay.
As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.
The game would now be over.
The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman.
Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.
Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates.
Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first!
Run to first!'
Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base.
He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.
Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!'
Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.
B y the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball . the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.
He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head.
Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.
All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'
Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third!
Shay, run to third!'
As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'
Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team
'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'.
Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!
AND NOW A LITTLE FOOT NOTE TO THIS STORY:
We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate.
The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.
If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren't the 'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference.
We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things.'
So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:
Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?
A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.
You now have two choices:
1. Delete
2. Forward
May your day, be a Shay Day!
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com Subscribe in a reader For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
Monday, October 17, 2011
The Four sons
This is a powerpoint presentation. Click on the title of the story to read it or click on the link below
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com Subscribe in a reader For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com Subscribe in a reader For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
Saturday, October 15, 2011
John and Mary
John and Mary had a comfortable home and two lovely children, a boy and a girl. John had been asked to go on a business trip to another city and would be gone for several days, so Mary decided to go along, and they hired a reliable woman to care for the children.
On their way back, as they drove into their hometown feeling glad to be back, they noticed smoke, and they went off their usual route to see what it was. They found a home in flames. Mary said, "Oh well it isn't our fire, let's go home."
But John drove closer and exclaimed, "That home belongs to Fred Jones who works at the office. He wouldn't be off work yet, maybe there is something we could do." "It has nothing to do with us." protested Mary. "You have your good clothes on lets not get any closer."
But John drove up and stopped and they were both horror stricken to see the whole house in flames. A woman on the lawn was in hysterics screaming, "The children! Get the children!" John grabbed her by the shoulder saying, "Get a hold of yourself and tell us where the children are!" "In the basement," sobbed the woman, "down the hall and to the left."
In spite of Mary's protests John grabbed the water hose and soaked his clothes, put his wet handkerchief on his head and bolted for the basement which was full of smoke and scorching hot. He found the door and grabbed two children, holding one under each arm like the football player he was. As he left he could hear some more whimpering. He delivered the two badly frightened and nearly suffocated children into waiting arms and filled his lungs with fresh air and started back asking how many more children were down there. They told him two more and Mary grabbed his arm and screamed, "John! Don't go back! It's suicide! That house will cave in any second!"
But he shook her off and went back by feeling his way down the smoke filled hallway and into the room. It seemed an eternity before he found both children and started back. They were all three coughing and he stooped low to get what available air he could. As he stumbled up the endless steps the thought went through his mind that there was something strangely familiar about the little bodies clinging to him, and at last when they came out into the sunlight and fresh air, he found that he had just rescued his own children.
The baby-sitter had left them at this home while she did some shopping.
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com Subscribe in a reader For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
On their way back, as they drove into their hometown feeling glad to be back, they noticed smoke, and they went off their usual route to see what it was. They found a home in flames. Mary said, "Oh well it isn't our fire, let's go home."
But John drove closer and exclaimed, "That home belongs to Fred Jones who works at the office. He wouldn't be off work yet, maybe there is something we could do." "It has nothing to do with us." protested Mary. "You have your good clothes on lets not get any closer."
But John drove up and stopped and they were both horror stricken to see the whole house in flames. A woman on the lawn was in hysterics screaming, "The children! Get the children!" John grabbed her by the shoulder saying, "Get a hold of yourself and tell us where the children are!" "In the basement," sobbed the woman, "down the hall and to the left."
In spite of Mary's protests John grabbed the water hose and soaked his clothes, put his wet handkerchief on his head and bolted for the basement which was full of smoke and scorching hot. He found the door and grabbed two children, holding one under each arm like the football player he was. As he left he could hear some more whimpering. He delivered the two badly frightened and nearly suffocated children into waiting arms and filled his lungs with fresh air and started back asking how many more children were down there. They told him two more and Mary grabbed his arm and screamed, "John! Don't go back! It's suicide! That house will cave in any second!"
But he shook her off and went back by feeling his way down the smoke filled hallway and into the room. It seemed an eternity before he found both children and started back. They were all three coughing and he stooped low to get what available air he could. As he stumbled up the endless steps the thought went through his mind that there was something strangely familiar about the little bodies clinging to him, and at last when they came out into the sunlight and fresh air, he found that he had just rescued his own children.
The baby-sitter had left them at this home while she did some shopping.
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com Subscribe in a reader For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Mother
When you came into the world, she held you in her arms. You thanked her by wailing like a banshee.
When you were 1 year old, she fed you and bathed you. You thanked her by crying all night long.
When you were 2 years old, she taught you to walk. You thanked her by running away when she called.
When you were 3 years old, she made all your meals with love. You thanked her by tossing your plate on the floor.
When you were 4 years old, she gave you some crayons. You thanked her by coloring the dining room table.
When you were 5 years old, she dressed you for the holidays. You thanked her by plopping into the nearest pile of mud.
When you were 6 years old, she walked you to school. You thanked her by screaming, "I'M NOT GOING!"
When you were 7 years old, she bought you a baseball. You thanked her by throwing it through the next-door-neighbor' s window.
When you were 8 years old, she handed you an ice cream. You thanked her by dripping it all over your lap.
When you were 9 years old, she paid for music lessons. You thanked her by never even bothering to practice.
When you were 10 years old, she drove you all day, from soccer to gymnastics to one birthday party after another. You thanked her by jumping out of the car and never looking back.
When you were 11 years old, she took you and your friends to the movies.You thanked her by asking to sit in a different row.
When you were 12 years old, she warned you not to watch certain TV shows. You thanked her by waiting until she left the house.Those teenage years -
When you were 13, she suggested a haircut that was becoming.You thanked her by telling her she had no taste.
When you were 14, she paid for a month away at summer camp.You thanked her by forgetting to write a single letter.
When you were 15, she came home from work, looking for a hug.You thanked her by having your bedroom door locked.
When you were 16, she taught you how to driver her car.You thanked her by taking it every chance you could.
When you were 17, she was expecting an important call.You thanked her by being on the phone all night.
When you were 18, she cried at your high school graduation.You thanked her by staying out partying until dawn.Growing old and gray -
When you were 19, she paid for your college tuition, drove you to campus, carried your bags.You thanked her by saying good-bye outside the dorm so you wouldn't be embarrassed in front of your friends.
When you were 20, she asked whether you were seeing anyone.You thanked her by saying, "It's none of your business."
When you were 21, she suggested certain careers for your future.You thanked her by saying, "I don't want to be like you."
When you were 22, she hugged you at your college graduation.You thanked her by asking whether she could pay for a trip to Europe.
When you were 23, she gave you furniture for your first apartment.You thanked her by telling your friends it was ugly.
When you were 24, she met your fiancé and asked about your plans for the future.You thanked her by glaring and growling, "Muuhh-there, please!"
When you were 25, she helped to pay for your wedding, and she cried and told you how deeply she loved you.You thanked her by moving halfway across the country.
When you were 30, she called with some advice on the baby.You thanked her by telling her, "Things are different now."
When you were 40, she called to remind you of an relative's birthday.You thanked her by saying you were "really busy right now."
When you were 50, she fell ill and needed you to take care of her.You thanked her by reading about the burden parents become to their children.And then, one day, she quietly moved. And
Everything you never did came crashing down like thunder. Let us take a moment of the time just to pay tribute/show appreciation to the SPECIAL person called MOTHER though some may not say it openly to their mother.
There's no substitute for her. Cherished every single moment. Though at times she may not be the best of friends, may not agree to our thoughts, she is still your mother!!!
She will be there for you...to listen to your woes, your bragging, your frustrations, etc.
Ask yourself. have you put aside enough time for her, to listen to her "blues" of working in the kitchen, her tiredness??? Be tactful, loving and still show her due respect though you may have a different view from her.
Main site address is http://www.vinodhemdev.blogspot.com
Subscribe in a reader
For more stories, click on the word Home or click on ONE STORY A DAY
We also invite you to send us stories you would like to see published in this blog. You can send us either stories you have written or stories written by others that you have liked. You may rest assured that both you and the author are credited for your submission. Just send a copy of your stories and other pieces to my email address: vinodhemdev@gmail.com
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