@ http://thedyc.org/blog/a-change-of-heart-the-story-of-my-8-tiny-pups/

If this is deja vu, I know our overpopulated human society is brimming with them at any particular moment during littering season.I have a similar story. Just add 2 more puppies to the list. Place is Jaipur, my office’s backyard.

My experience:

1. Called Help In Suffering, [www.his-india.in], an animal welfare organization doing what they stand for. Problem came when i realized that they do only what they stand for, that is, help only those in suffering. 10 normal puppies are but normal puppies. suffering quotient was missing [ still, I am thankful to them for 3 successful experiences where they actually and timely helped those in sufferings - a cow, a donkey and a dog!!]
2. There are other organization as well, with more or less the same response, few totally wild-life oriented, in fact tiger oriented, few only for the snakes,few for the stray dogs but their phones don’t work.
3. Facebook campaign showed that either people like it or they do not like it. Either way it actually didn’t work out for the puppies who were growing fast. Down, I felt, Facebook was  stupid [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDHb4wewAIQ ] ;interestingly, out of my many Facebook friends who commented, shared or gave a thumbs up to a lightest of my whim overlooked this one. That felt a little bad. [www.facebook.com/pages/Stray-Adoption/187536994608352]

Result:

1. Out of 10 now only 4 are left -
2. 3 died for they gave in to the food poisoning caused by consuming infected carcass from the nearby nullah (in desi sense)
3. 3 are missing

Our emergency method

After losing 3 of them and watching the rest under-grow from puffed up puppy to skeletal canines their mouth frothing:

1. Rescue first with whatever resource available at hand – doctor, food, land (we have a decent sized backyard at our office) and money.
2. Feed them milk After food poisoning the poor pups gave up other foods except milk. Now for another 15 days we will do so and gradually add more to the diet
3. Still trying for their adoption
4. Also check if PFA is active herein Jaipur

Battle of survival is on, watch these cute little creatures playing the game [the video is from the good old mumma days!!]

“Hey! 1 puppy got adopted” the only good news in the process bounced when  that very pup was returned back the very next day this video was uploaded.  
Sorry, this is no de-motivational article the way it looks. We are still on! remaining puppies are gaining weight

Cover Image : Ayushi Mehta

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1. A change of heart – the story of my 8 tiny pups
2. 1700 km in 3 weeks | Kunal + Bike

Photo by EdArtGeek

I watch him as he picks up a stick and drags it in the dirt behind him, creating a swirling tail that chases his small shadow. He glances back, flashes me a shy smile and then skips away tossing the stick as he disappears through the swinging screen door that slams shut behind him. I constantly find myself taken by his ever present smile and mischievous eyes, so different from the terrified little boy who came to us two years ago. I stretch my legs out and lean back against the boulder behind me, loosing myself to the memory of the day he first arrived at our gate.
It was late afternoon and I was just headed to get my work orders for the day when I saw him walking beside a man pushing a bicycle with a small bag sitting on the bag carrier. The little boy’s head was nearly completely shaved with a sprout of hair coming out from the top in a little pony tail fashion. He wore clothes that looked worn and too small for him. He dragged one foot so that his broken slipper would not be lost to the trail behind him – not wanting to stop and fix it in-case he gets left behind. The anxiety and fear seemed to leak from his eyes as they darted back and forth attempting to take in the scene around him. At night he would be heard wailing and moaning, and when we sat in a circle on the floor to eat, he would begin to rock back and forth chanting with words that were foreign to our ears. I let out a deep breath as my shoulders slump…I am plagued by a question in my mind.

What would he answer to some one who questions him on where he belongs?

Three years of service in a temple after being given away by his family, and now completing his second year here in our home; what is this young mind’s connection to the concept of home or belonging? Every summer the boys head home for the holidays and he goes to the home of another boy who worked in the temple with him, calling the other boy’s mother ‘aunty’. Luckily for him, the Hindi language allows everyone in the community to be a part of his family. His peers become siblings, adults become uncles and aunts, and elderly people become grandparents. And yet, labels aside, it plagues me…what is my younger brother’s sense of home and family?
In the years past, it seems to be a question that plagues not only my mind but the minds of the boys themselves. As they grow older and then eventually leave, one can sense their lingering hope as they set out to seek their own journey and identity in life. Ever so often they come back to celebrate Christmas or New Years, and sometimes we get a long distance phone call from a vaguely familiar voice that takes us back to the little boy with a snotty nose who was constantly in trouble, desperate for a little bit of attention. Another hazy recollection would trigger as we remember that young face experimenting with letting ‘mom’ or ‘dad’ slip from his lips, searching for a sense of belonging in the family. Then as they become young adults, they become more forthright and question what it means for them to have a sense of belonging.

In the English language, the word ‘belong’ is defined as ‘to be rightly placed in a specified position’; a definition simple and easily applicable in a world of items and objects…and yet so abstract and complex otherwise. Where do I belong and what meaning does that word hold for me? This question takes me back to a time when we were picking up my older sister from the railway station. Once all of us were piled into the car and on the road, I hear her say “It’s good to be home!” Here, in our Trax- a box on wheels- my sister had said she was ‘home’. Was it a general statement about being back in our home town or was it that she was amidst her family and the location didn’t matter?
A quote well known and often heard, states “home is where the heart is.” To be quite honest, my heart is divided up in so many different places. Can one’s sense of home be broken and scattered? And furthermore, can the heart not be deceitful and deceptive? Can it not build you up and tear you down? I know that my heart certainly has been that way. What is true belonging?

I reflect on the moments that I’ve felt genuinely ‘at home’ and attempt to label the feelings; comfort, security, a sense of being valued and appreciated, feeling treasured and cherished, a knowledge that I have voice, the feeling of being protected, where danger may exist but the sense of trust in unity overrides it. Home, a place engulfed in love that lacks destructive judgement but will not hesitate to show me my wrongs and guide me in the right direction. Home, a place where love is not based on my behavior and actions, but is unconditional because I belong.

How important is it to belong to a family or to have a sense of ‘home?

Photo by Violet-Nova

What is it that has been stolen from the boy who has no family to call his own? How does it affect his life? How can we, who had temporarily played the role of family to him support him to always feel the sense of belonging that will comfort and lift him up when darkness pokes and prods his spirit? I wish I knew the answer.

Now on the other side of the world, I struggle to keep up to date with all the boys and their walk in life. I devour the updates with a hunger to love them…wishing that somehow, somewhere the little boy, now an adult, feels like he is loved and belongs.

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This article was taken from http://www.siddatwork.com/blog/a-change-of-heart/ where I posted it originally.
This article is available only in abridged form below. To read the article in full please follow this link

On the 31st of December 2010 God threw us a challenge.
There were two litters of pups, each about 2-3 weeks old then and born to regular Indian dogs( street dogs ) on the street, quite near to Anjali’s( Shagun’s mother; And shagun is my wife ) place.
We’d stop by and pay these little wonders a visit whenever we visited Anjali.

On the fateful night we were returning home late. It had been raining for a while and as a result the gutters were half-full.
As we passed were the pups lived (they lived in a dry gutter ), they were no where to been seen. It was late in the night and the rain was coming down good. We stopped and ventured out to see where they were.
Still no where to be seen , we began to hear their little cries.

The tiny heartbeats were in the middle of the gutter, stranded on bricks, cold and wet and stuck because the water was high on either side. It was dreadful and heart wrenching. We feared death for all by the morning.
2-3 weeks old pups, wet and cold ( late December in Dehradun can be unforgiving ), holding onto dear life with water rising on both sides.

I must admit that we were overcome by compassion. We didn’t know what else to do other than to get them out and take them home.
It was a decision that was not made in the head. But logic only goes so far.

It took us the next 1-2 hours to get them out of the gutter. I had to enter it partially. I had never imagined that I would be out wet, in near zero degrees temperature, rescuing pups from a gutter.Finally,we did manage to pull them all out and took them home.
We had no clue what we would do with them the next day. We just had to take them home, some place safe; we couldn’t in our conscience just let the moment pass and leave the dogs to die. We did what we felt called to.

Today it’s just over a month and a half and the tiny heartbeats are twice the size.
Shagun has always had a huge heart for animals but I had been pretty ordinary. She has her way of looking at animals and strangely she would find them all cute and feel so much love for God’s creations. I wasn’t all that.

But I have since changed.I know a love and appreciation in my heart for God’s creation like never before. That which was ordinary once is amazing and awesome now to me. In my heart I have changed. I feel and perceive differently for animals.

I really can’t believe that , that’s how I am now. God never fails to amuse.
Well so much for the little pups and their tiny story. There is something more that I would like to share with you all.

Indian dogs often just called street dogs or desi, are a common sight in India.
Very interestingly most people would like to see our streets cleared of street dogs as well as all other strays but are still waiting for some Miracle to happen. They want to see them gone but don’t want to have anything to do with bringing about the change.

When we had advertised our dogs for adoption, we got some queries. However nearly all of them would immediately lose interest, once they got to know that these were just streets dogs – the ordinary Indian Dogs.

Well that off-course is very well understandable.

For most people keeping a dog is not about the their love for the Dog; it is about their love for themselves.
The dog must be an expensive, special breed to help them correct the identity crisis in their lives.
These attributes of the dog must deliver well for them in the society to keep-up the show-off and their pride.
Our desi dogs would understandably only borrow from their entire setup of things.
What in the world would their neighbours, relatives, friends, family think of them ? CHEAP !
They’d be ashamed of themselves.

We met many such people among those who showed interest in adopting our little heartbeats.
Well enough said.
PFA ( People for Animals ) is now running a campaign wherein they are supporting people who adopt street dogs by providing free vaccinations and sterilisations. Hahaha ! A few good men !

Here’s another side of the story.
Our pups are 8 in number and that means :-

1. Huge investment of our time and taking care – We fell in love with them
2. Increased monthly expenses – we are also planning kids pretty soon !
3. Being constantly told how foolish we are – but we are called to be unconventional
4. A whole lot more discipline in our lives – see the benefit !
5. A good 8kgf in weight loss for me over 1.5 months – for good; I needed that bad !
6. Abundant supply of unconditional love – Here Human – this is your chance to learn it right
7. A lot more dependence on God – How it ought to be

To end this little post, I am posting some photographs of our little wonders.
By the way, I haven’t told you their names. They are Koko, Piper, Brandy, Waffles, Jemma, Frisky, Barney and Fluffy.
Here are the pictures :-

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1. Stray Pups
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Before I commence with anything, I have a question in my mind.

Do you have a better mind or are u blessed with better brains than others?

Trust me I am not being rude it is just that everyone on this planet earth is blessed with an equal brain of 1350 grams. God has not been biased at all.
He has been equal to all of us; when it is this way then who are we to decide that one is more intelligent than the other one ?

Everyone is special in some sense. Take the example of your family itself. Our fathers are good at office and moms good at home.
If there ever was a test regarding who is better,It would have been unfair because both are superb in their respective fields. All I mean to say is that everyone cannot be good at everything.

I know it sounds very weird to many but the only thing that bothers me is “ who is someone to measure my ability” or in other words ” who has the right to measure my ability ?”
When I score a mark less than another,I am being denied of too many things or rather I am addressed as a failure.
There can be so many reasons of why I scored a mark less but the consequences that follow are too much to justify my fault.

Here is a situation:- I appear for an examination in which I score a mark less than my my nearest competitor. Fine !
The consequences however are – either drop that field or if I appear again.In both the cases I am a failure.

Even if it is not an examination, even if it is a business or any decision in life,if it doesn’t work out, I am considered a failure.

My father always says that I will learn from experiences in life, but if it is this way then no one is supposed to call me a failure because everyone must have gone through this phase so no one deserves to call me a failure.

When I go to bed at night I ask HIM “ why did you make me this way ? ”;“ why did you not give me birth in a royal family ?”;“ please Father help me, get me out of this!”
“Dad why does everyone has to point out a finger at me??”
And so many similar questions.
The only answer I get is -

‘What I have is something no one else has , this isn’t something to be proud of but I should be happy about being special.
I need not be born in a royal family because I am strong enough to make my way out.
I do not need any help. I have enough in me to make it.
If any one is pointing at me, ha ! Who cares !
Should I be bothered?’

I am here for a reason and no one can measure my ability except HIM. How could anyone possibly measure my ability on the basis of marks which I scored during an examination of three hours out of the thousands of hours that I am supposed to live in my life?

If I should be measured,it should be at the end of my life.
And no one else but Him deserves to rate me.
And I cannot be a failure,because if I am a failure,it’s not me but it will be HIM who will be the failure, which is impossible.

Image credit – dabarnabrani

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For me, a great source of learning what is good and what is not has been my own household. Probably, your dwelling is that part of life that allows you lengthy periods of inertia; freedom from explicit awareness of location. Admittedly, it is good to have that.  However, once in a while there is a situation or episode that jolts you out of your listless existence; taking you on a journey from the mundane to the most profound of lessons.

Staying abreast with the day to day developments taking place within the confines of my residence has been quite a challenge for me in recent times. My routine as regards getting myself formal education is demanding enough to keep me mentally, if not physically, occupied for most part of the day – including my sleep hours. This has a behavioral dimension, with the effect that I fail to take note of thoughtfully unimportant yet perceivably significant things about myself. Personal tidiness, for one, is nowhere near the top of my list of personal priorities. Combined with forgetfulness, the resulting consequences can be serious; even disquieting for that matter. Read on to know more.

It so happened that I hadn’t trimmed my fingernails in a while. It’s not surprising, for when your entire focus is on getting your study act right, even something as criminal as skipping meals doesn’t bother you much. My mother is a vociferous critic of such carelessness; understandably so. In matters of physical well-being, there is no compromise; as she often gets upset to the extent of losing her temper. Something as unkempt as untrimmed fingernails really gets her into action – it’s as though an irritant has entered her eyes!

On a typical Sunday afternoon, my parents and I have lunch with my maternal grandparents. It’s one of those places – the dining table – where just anything can become the topic of an engaging discussion. Given a choice, I would never want myself or anything to do with that to become the topic. But being the only ‘kid’ around, evasion is not easy. Even if I go unnoticed there, courtesy more important issues like my grandparents’ health or somebody’s marriage, there is simply no escape during the lounge session in which the sweets-after-the-meals are savoured. As it is, I am not too fond of sweets, and people in my family think that I refuse to consume them ‘cause I am weight conscious. On the whole, the setting is almost always perfect for the inspection of me – from the hair on my head to the soles of my footwear. My grandfather lovingly asks me every now and then – Health Bulletin ke kya haal hain? (What’s up with your health!?) He particularly dislikes my keeping a goatee, which he disapproves by calling it Bakara Daari (Goat’s beard)…though he encourages me to apply a fixxo to my mustache, which involves growing a mustache long and thick enough to give it an upward curl on both ends!

Pampered I have been, and it seems pampered I will be.

This past Sunday, during the sweets’ session, my Grandfather pointedly said to me that my nails have indeed grown big; implying that I really need to clip them. My mother had already thrown light upon the matter during lunch; I had been slapped-on-the-wrist and asked to take care of the outgrowth a.s.a.p. Thankfully, she was not around when my grandfather worded his observation; his opinion automatically increases the force of the argument.

My parents arrived home a little later than myself. They were expecting me to have cut my nails by the time they reached home, whereas the thought had not even occurred to me. My mother was quick to notice this – my father wouldn’t have been able to take note even if I had met him face-to-face, which I actually didn’t until a couple of hours later. When my mother suggested that I should get going right away, I excused myself by saying that I was sleepy. However, I told her that even Nanaji (Grandpa) had asked me to get rid of my dirty nails. The acknowledgment had the anticipated effect, but I was able to postpone the much-in-demand act.

But I was certainly reminded that I was giving germs license to enter my system.

The real thing happened after I woke up early evening. The first thing my mother uttered was ‘get up and cut your nails’. The calmness rewarded by a good nap discouraged me to make the move. So I said that let me do the needful next morning. And I reiterated the same at her subsequent assertions. That’s when she lost her cool – the first thing she did was shout down-the-stairs – to tell my father that I was not giving in. This is something that I don’t quite like. So I became even more resolute (I give myself some grace by not using the word s-t-u-b-b-o-r-n!).

To add to the stupidity of the situation, I started teasing mummy instead of agreeing to do what I had to. In response, she scolded me and reminded me how I leave everything to ‘tomorrow’. As her anger grew, she said a couple of other things which she unarguably shouldn’t have.

In the midst of this, I had already made a trip downstairs to where my father was watching TV. Having received the news from upstairs, he too theorized about my habit of procrastination. I argued that it didn’t apply to a petty activity like trimming nails. But he was vehement as usual.

My mother maintained her note as I returned upstairs to pick up a few things. The nail cutter was waiting – resting on the table. Seeing the inappropriateness of her tone continue, I too let my guard down and proclaimed that I do not agree with her concept of cleanliness. I went to the extent of saying that I cannot respect such behavior on her part. But all too much had been said and I had no choice but to give in. After having heard from her that I won’t be able to concentrate on my studies until and unless I clipped my nails short, I was feeling angry and hurt.

Papa, however, was right. Nails’ maintenance took me exactly 2 minutes. While I was subconsciously appreciative of this, I was determined to not talk to my mother for sometime – quite some time to be honest. But everything changed after I sat next to my father; having accomplished the task.

It is one of the most unique conversational experiences I have ever had. The conversation started off by my complaining to Papa about mummy’s unjustified behavior. It’s not good, I said – how she gets hyper for small things.  When he repeated his own opinion about my procrastination and its ramifications, I said one of those things that I regard as completely original and clever. It doesn’t sound the same when said in English as it does in Hindi but here goes:

Ahem…Has it ever happened that my fingernails have remained uncut? (Can it ever happen???!!)

This wasn’t the first time I had worded this sentiment; I’ve used it whenever asked urgently to trim nails. This time out, it did manage to mollify my father.

My father then addressed my concern regarding my mother’s behavior. What he said took me by surprise (no one like him, I must confess…): “She does get angry once in a while but she has changed her attitude a lot over the years, and is still i-m-p-r-o-v-i-n-g”.

The words struck me. Having been familiarized with the ‘Feelings Cycle’ at the Doon Youth Centre (DYC), they made a lot more sense to me than I assume they would to people who haven’t heard of it. I couldn’t then, and can’t now, deny that my mother has made some very good changes in her lifestyle.

How could I obstruct her humble efforts by enacting ‘reactive choices’ like not talking to her or telling her that she is unreasonable and difficult? Foolish it would have been, had I made such a choice. In an instant, I had a change of heart…

That is when the thought occurred that I could manage my ruffled feelings by writing down the experience. That is how this post happened. It was the best response I could think of!

Later that day, I had a long chat with my mother when she was in the mood. Really, all she had wanted was me to trim my fingernails. She was pleased to see that I had done the job, and I was calm enough to let her know that I had planned not to talk to her! I got my opportunity to explain my point of view. I did a lot of bakwaas (Translation _________ )…countered everything that she had to say…

But it was okay. The in-the-end was worth the trouble…

As it always is…!

Situations keep happening, and methinks that the best ones happen at home. Admirably, it is the little things that give you away. Rather, it’s the little things that give you a way…to be better in every sense of the term.

Probably, the best four words that can precede the clause ‘from this situation’ are ‘What can I learn’. This is what the tale of the fingernails has taught me – but I can already see – there is a lot more to come out of my household…

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That day my wife was to visit her mother (who lived a few kilometers away) for some work and stay there overnight. She asked me to drop her on scooter. As she was to take along our younger daughter with her, we had to leave our elder daughter home. She was only 7 years at that time. I instructed her to stay home, do her home work and keep the door of her room closed but not to sleep as I would be coming soon. Repeating my instructions to her we left.

On my return I knocked at the door. No response. I knocked a bit louder. Still no response. I banged and again and again but to no avail.

As there was no other entrance to the house I took a rod and broke the window pane and pulled down the curtain. It dropped on the settee kept along the wall. I peeped in.  She was not there. I got worried and tense.

My kitchen was adjacent to this room and nasty thought started creeping into my mind. I called out loud, shouted to my full strength but heard my only my own voice. I went back to the door and banged it hard and kept doing it till its hinges broke free.  I flew straight to the kitchen but did not find her.

My fear of losing her grew stronger. I could almost hear the beats of my heart growing louder and louder. I came back to the room and in a fit of helplessness, anger and worry picked up the curtain to throw it on the ground.

There she was, under the curtain, deep in slumbers. I shook her, pulled her up onto her toes and slapped her hard across the face. She woke up in a shock and gazed at me bewildered. Tears started rolling down her cheeks and wetting her frilled collars. I slapped her again and shouted “Why the hell did you sleep? I had told you not to sleep.

Did you do your homework? Why did you not wake up despite  my shouting and calling ? How much worried was I not being able to find you any where?” She silently and in tears listened to me and finally said in a choked voice “Papa, maine homework kar liya tha phir mujhe neend aa gayi isliye so gayi. I am sorry”.

These words squeezed my heart out. I felt as if I had not slapped my cute daughter but my own self. I looked at her through my teary eyes. How innocent, how loving was she. I wanted to cut off my hands. I wanted to kill myself. I took her face in my hands and kissed her cheeks which had become red with my slap. I could not understand what to do to punish myself. I pleaded her to forgive me and asked her to slap me hard so that I do not repeat this ever. She was stunned but kept on saying “Sorry Papa. It was my fault. I will not disobey you ever”.  These simple lines made me feel guilty as it was I who had disobeyed the Rules of Nature.

I don’t know if she still remembers my cruelty or whether she has forgiven me but I yet feel the slap on my own face and will never ever forgive myself.

This is a confession I want to make not before GOD but before my angelic DAUGHTER.

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To power his family’s home, young William Kamkwamba built an electricity-producing windmill from spare parts and scrap — starting him on a surprising journey detailed in the new book, “The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind.”

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This poem has been put beautifully to song by Sinead O’Connor.

To listen press play /////////////Make_Me_A_Channel_Of_Your_Peace_

Here’s the poem:

PEACE PRAYER by Saint Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon:
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope
where there is darkness, light
where there is sadness, joy
O divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

[image credit bartoszwozniak]

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Doesn’t the word (God fearing) sounds contradictory to the title?Let me explain.

This question must have cropped in a crore of minds; minds of those who are really concerned about the Welfare: Welfare for the country, for themselves, for others etc. Frankly speaking, I ask this as I am worried about me and my family.

Do not misunderstand me and label me as a self centered person. In fact, maybe, when I am talking about myself I know that this conversation will stand true for all in general, thus concerned about the welfare of our country as a whole.

Many instances have happened whence I started becoming skeptical about  God’s existence.

Bribery, law and order failures, rapes, shoot-outs, dacoity, kidnappings, homicides, child abuse, accidents, miseries, blah blah! and n-number of in-disciplinary actions occur so many times before our eyes.

Our fathers, fore fathers and great grand fathers had been reiterating since ages that there is God and we accepted their statement without questioning them. But now, when I see around me I start questioning myself – Does God Exist?

If yes then where is He? Was he born Only to Create this Universe? Why did my elders say “We should fear God, there is delay not darkness in Gods palace, he is looking on us and noting all misdeeds happening down here, etc”.

Why then are the culprits roaming scott free and die a king’s death without anything bad happening to them? Why isn’t God severely punishing them as He should be noting down their misdeeds? Why are honest and like people suffering more than those who are involved in abject activities? Why is God sitting idle and not giving some sense to these Culprits?

Why is the graph of illegal activities rising steeply on daily basis? Where has the Utopian concept disappeared? Has God also got tuned to today’s ‘just carry on status’ or is He following ‘greater the offerings greater the secuirty’?

There is an old saying – ” to prove something any number of examples are insufficient but to condemn it only one is enough ”

As I have put forward quite a few reasons to contradict the existence of God, we should now start believing the fact that -

//

GOD WAS HERE TO CREATE UNIVERSE AND NOW HE NO LONGER EXISTS? WE SHOULD NOT FEAR HIM? CORRECT?

//

Any contradictions ? If yes please convince me as these questions are being posed by my kids who nowadays do not take things out-rightly as we did and they are surely considered to be considerate for the welfare of our country.

We need to guide them in a practical manner.

//

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The first thing that came my way was a tight one across my face before I could even realise how late I was.

The second thing that came my way was a series of dialogues to tell me that I should be really guilt conscious of the crime I had committed.

“We’ll die one day waiting for you” - well even I know I am late and I am sorry for it but why do you make it so melodramatic ?
“You are so careless and irresponsible . You don’t care about us.” – I really don’t know what to say to this . Sigh !
“No one can do as much as we have done for you. We are not wrong” I know I should be grateful to you, for all you have given me but why degrade the feeling by saying it.
“Your friends are more important to you than us. You don’t talk to us” -please ask yourselves why is that ? Probably it is because you never tried to be a good friend or rather never understood what I used to feel as a child.

I woke up this morning and the first thing that came to my mind was that oooh no- the same day once again !

Whats new in my life ?

And I’ll die one day still stuck with this routine – N O ! One life I want to live it.

Let me be on a high; let me  live today,tomorrow can wait.

My dad left his home came to Dehradun when he was 19 and started his business and since then he has been on his own. I am 24 and still struggling to find  my place.
I am not asking for any suggestions but the question remains -when you have lived your life the way you wanted to then don’t you think I deserve the same right?
Did you bring me into this world  so that I will do all those things which you wanted to do always but could not or that which you would want of me ?

All in all a simple question – DO I DESERVE TO LIVE ?
Am I a dummy carrier of your emotional needs/ desires from life.

Indeed I love my parents but it doesn’t mean they own my choices.

Nature gives us an amazing example where a baby bird leaves the nest as soon as it learns to fly.
My birth was decided by my parents,true, but that I shall be born in this family,in this place at this given time,who decides that ?

Who decides my life ? It’s the almighty who must have decided this way before my parents decided to give birth to me.

So I should be more grateful to Him more than anyone else to have given me the life I am living.
He loves me so much that He never complains of what I am or when I come home late. Neither does He tell me that I should be doing things according to Him or else He will be angry.Nor does He slap me when I say I want to live.

Love is unconditional.  “I will not talk to you because you didn’t do this” – how foolish is that ?

But my parents tell me, this is what is love according to them

“Son you will be never outdo us in making wiser decisions, no matter how old you grow. We will make a better choice for you because we know you every time better than you know yourself” – indirectly meaning “I OWN YOU COZ IAM YOUR DAD”

Related posts:

1. Was it love? Or was it the idea of being in love?
2. What will measure my ability?