Just Bliss

Thank you so much  Chriti Moise  for nominating me for the Shine on award

These are rules to follow for this award :

1.) Show appreciation of the blogger who nominated you and link back to them in your post.
DONE !
2.) Add the award logo to your blog.
DONE !
3.) Share 7 things about yourself.
A few things about me you’ll find if you visit this blog or you can try here:)

4.) Nominate 5 – 10 or so bloggers you admire.

Seven things about me

 

 

 

Thank you Ajaytao for nominating me for the award

Seven thing about me

 

Dye  me in thy color, my love!

the-art-of-devotion-Back-To-Godhead

Thou are my man, oh beloved of Almighty;

Dye me in thy color!

My scarf, and the beloved’s turban,

Both need to be dyed in the spring’s color;

Whatever be the price for dyeing, ask for it,

Thou can have my blossoming youth in mortgage;

Dye me in thy color!

I have come and fallen at thy door step,

For thou to, safeguard my pride, my dignity,

Thou are my man, Oh beloved of Almighty,

Dye me in thy color!

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My mother used to enlighten me with   ethical stories at bed time. Those character building stories have left great impact on me.

Let me share one of those stories with you today :) 

Long time back, famine broke out in a country.  A rich charitable man distributed loaves of bread to children every day in his region. Every day the children gathered at the rich man’s house to get loaves of bread.

As soon as the servants brought out loaves, they fought among themselves and struggled hard to get them.

But one little orphan girl waited pa­tiently for her turn. But every time she got the smallest loaf last of all.

One day as usual, she got the smallest piece.

She went home and sat in a corner to eat it. As she cut it, her eyes gleamed with joy. She saw a gold coin in it. She went back at once to return it to the rich man.

The rich man was very delighted at her honesty. He gave her not only that coin, but two more gold coins for her honesty and some big loaves as reward of being patient and serene.

May we all learn and practice to be grateful for what we already have and be patient to wish and get our wishes realized, amen!

Moral:

Patience brings its own reward.

why is it that i cant post my new blog? i tried so many times but every-time i fai971401_10151751526866932_579044056_nled . im so depressed

I miss you

Posted on: September 1, 2014

children-listen-to-a-shepherd-playing-a-flute-j-alsina

Miss you——-

Far from the maddening city, there are fields, meadows, pastures, lagoons and a small jungle near the Airport in Faisalabad.  The birds that are seen in National Geography Channel only, are glimpsed and heard their sweet melodious hum early in the morning. Reptiles, jackals, wild rabbits, foxes, pigs and so many other animals were seen there also. I saw most of them during my stay.   It’s a beautiful picturesque area of Pakistan. I have the honor and pleasure of living there for quite some time.

I had a maid Meera, she was in her twenties. I liked her charming personality. After she completed her 10th grade her mother asked her to sit at home. She read magazines and story books I bought. She’s a good story teller too. Whenever she finished her work or doing embroidery she would tell different happenings of that place. One day while oiling my hair, Meera told me a touching true story.   She said that, “several kilometers from where we lived, was a ruined huge mansion in an isolated locale. It belonged to a business icon. Learned and refined Mr. Aslam lived a happy life with is two small daughters and a beautiful wife. There were fruit gardens, fields of sugar cane, wheat and veggies and also a stable. Aslam was fond of Arabian horses. The horses were taken great care of.  Flower beds of seasonal flowers added fragrance and splendor to the garden. The couple enjoyed seeing their daughters play and chuckle. God blessed them with everything. Outside the mansion was a fish pond having variety of fishes. The setting was tempting.  Aslam was a kind and bighearted man. Passersby and well wishers envied while step brothers felt jealous.

He ran a flourishing gold and precious stones business in South Africa.

There he purchased a more luxurious house than the one in Faisalabad, to settle there with his family. As his step brothers always created problems for him.”

Finally the day came. He was coming home. He sat smiling to himself, thinking about his family, in Swiss Airlines to live a peaceful life with his family in Nigeria. He expected his family to greet him at the airport but, something upset him when he saw the chauffer only.

All the way home he sat silent and nervous. He missed a heartbeat to see people waiting for him. His step brother Rashid stepping forward told him that his family died the night before whilst sleeping. Nobody knew the cause of their tragic death. Rashid tried to comfort him saying he had taken control of the affairs.

Mr. Aslam didn’t expect the tear-jerking news. He got his nervous breakdown. He couldn’t recover from the deep shock. He became a drifter. Never stayed at one place but restlessly kept moving in the same vicinity.

Aslam lost his business and property. The step brothers cheated on him.

The fish pond turned to a stagnant water puddle. Mosquitoes, flies and creepy-crawly insects increasing pollution all around with venom and awful stink. The garden and fields became fruitless and dead. Weeds, shrubs and wild bushes attract goats and cows. Caretakers of their animals relax their exhausted body under thick bushes or lean against a knoll there. Meanwhile their animals enjoy grazing. The setting sun and falling night overshadow the light so the people hurry to leave that place. That old deserted house looks haunted at night. Darkness adds a scene of lost souls and supernatural powers boogie, playing clanging instruments. The isolated locale is scary at night. People avoid passing by.

Shabbily clothed in rags having weird looks with tangled hair and old shoes, an old man came there every Sunday with the rising sun. Silence prevailed as everyone slept being an off day.

Spreading an old tattered mucky blanket he sat at the side of a knoll with eyes closed in deep thinking.  After some time he took out his flute from same soiled bag, to play a mystical note. Birds flying in the air came down, cats, dogs, ducks and passersby gathered around him. It seemed as if they felt comfort and relief in hearing his flute which mesmerized the whole scenario that polluted area.

No one could ever think that he was Aslam, who was a handsome and cultured business icon once.

Years have passed. The death is still a mystery.

 

It was strange that He never forgot  the day of his  fabulous wedding. Hence every year on 25th December he especially came there. Lay flowers and recited the following;


Remember, I miss you when———

The Poplar blooms

The Pine blubber

The Cyprus whimper

Remember, I miss you

The Moon shines

The spring trickles

The Jasmine emits fragrance

 Remember, I miss you!

The Partridge whines

 The Cherries ripened

The sparrows tweet

Remember, I miss you!

 The Ravi wobbles

The Chenab grouches

The Sutlej is jittery

Remember, I miss you!

The Shoots sprout

The Cuckoo coos

The Lightening cracks

Remember, I miss you!

 The Sun sets,

The Star dies

The Traveler is misled

Remember, I miss you!

 The Clouds holler

The Rains slobber

The Hearts clobber

Remember, I miss you!

 I was so touched to hear this story. I prayed for the souls to rest in peace and Aslam to recover from his grief.

 

 

 

DWTROT029

Shuaib received an automobile from his brother as an Eid present. On Eid day when Shuaib came out of his house, a street urchin was walking around the shiny new car, admiring it. “Is this your car, Uncle?” he asked. Shuaib nodded. “My brother gave it to me for Eid.” The boy was astounded.

“You mean your brother gave it to you and it didn’t cost you anything? Boy, I wish…” He hesitated. Of course Shuaib knew what he was going to wish for. He was going to wish he had a brother like that. But what the lad said jarred Shuaib all the way down to his heels. “I wish,” the boy went on, “that I could be a brother like that.” Shuaib looked at the boy in astonishment, and then impulsively he added, “Would you like to take a ride in my automobile?” “Oh yes, I’d love that.”

After a short ride, the boy turned and with his eyes aglow, said, “Uncle, would you mind driving in front of my house?” Shuaib smiled a little. He thought he knew what the lad wanted. He wanted to show his neighbors that he could ride home in a big automobile. But Shuaib was wrong again. “Will you stop where those two steps are?” the boy asked. He ran up the steps. Then in a little while Shuaib heard him coming back, but he was not coming fast. He was carrying his little crippled brother. He sat him down on the bottom step, then sort of squeezed up against him and pointed to the car.

“There it is, little brother, just like I told you upstairs. His brother gave it to him for Eid and it didn’t cost him a penny. And some day I’m going to give you one just like this…then you can see for yourself all the pretty things in the Shop windows that I’ve been trying to tell you about.”

Shuaib got out and lifted the boy to the front seat of his car. The shining-eyed older brother climbed in beside him and the three of them began a memorable ride. That Eid, Shuaib learned what the RasulAllah (salAllahu alayhi wasalam meant when he had said: “love for your brother what you love for yourself”.

giving-hands1

I confess I love you, any means to let you know?

I feel I’m imperfect, anyway for aptness knows? 

Love, the only salvation for all torment, but alas!

My compassionate belief is, just to be devoted

Madness, now insanity, return to normalcy doable?

Barn on words, lips silent, yet I know few orators

Any way out to realize dreams for unaided soul?

Everyone lost in his utopia, assuming liberated

Heart’s fallacy to be gratis, any way, be truly free?

One is in ardently affectionate, yet loathing reigns

Wish affable love overrules, to show peace reigns

Union and parting soul of love observe me to know

My looks, my idiocy my state, isn’t enough to show?

Silence considered my weakness, people still rate me

What is happening in Ghaza is sheer shame?

Can humanity be more humiliated than this?

All shroud less corpses of patriot cruelly killed ask

O’ humanitarians you are eyewitness of violence

Any defense for this callous act of offensiveness

Alleyway of love and compassion is illuminated

Though it’s thorny to walk on this path however

Humdum, anything more lustrous than my heart

 

 

 

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Wish I was a lovely  bracelet of thy hand,

Thou wore me with utter love and delight,

In thy delicate beautiful  and dainty wrist

Restlessly in lonely moments thou played

With it, gripped in thy instance  of solitude

I may flourish with  scent of thy being,if

thou hug me,when in cheerful mood

I may joie de vivre with of thy lips’ heat

While thou float ed in lovable dreams  

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