Posted in छोटी कहानिया - १०,००० से ज्यादा रोचक और प्रेरणात्मक

A ticket collector


A ticket collector in a train found an old worn out wallet in a compartment full of many people. He looked inside to find the name of its owner. There was no clue. All that there was in it, was some money and a picture of Krishna. He held it up and asked, “Who does this wallet belong to?”

An old man said, “That’s my wallet, please give it to me.” The ticket collector said, “You’ll have to prove that it is yours. Only then I can hand it over to you.” The old man smiled a toothless smile and said. “It has a picture of Krishna in it.” The ticket collector said, “That is no proof; anyone can have a picture of Krishna in his wallet. What is special about that? Why is your picture not there in it?”

The old man took a deep breath and said, “Let me tell you why my picture is not there in it. My father gave this wallet to me when I was in school. I used to get a small sum as pocket money then. I had kept a picture of my parents in it.

When I was a teenager I was greatly enamored by my good looks. I removed my parent’s picture and put in, one of my own. I loved to see my own face and my thick black hair. Some years later, I got married. My wife was very beautiful and I loved her a lot. I replaced my own picture in this wallet with a picture of her. I spent hours gazing at her pretty face.

When my first child was born, my life started a new chapter. I shortened my working hours, to play with my baby. I went late to work and returned home early too. Obviously, my baby’s picture occupied the prized position in my wallet.”

The old man’s eyes brimmed with tears as he went on. “My parents passed away many years ago. Last year my wife too left her mortal coil. My son; my only son is too busy with his family. He has no time to look after me. All that I had ever held close to my heart is far, far away from my reach now. Now I have put this picture of Krishna in my wallet. It is only now that I have realized that He is the eternal companion. He will never leave me. Alas! If only I had realized this before. If only I had loved the Lord all these years, with the same intensity as I loved my family, I would not have been so lonely today!”

The collector quietly gave the wallet to the old man. When the train stopped at the next station, the ticket collector went to the book stall at the platform and asked the salesman, “Do you have any pictures of God? I need a small one to put in my wallet!”

It’s your attitude and not your aptitude that determines your altitude.
———————
Article
In English, knowing when to use ‘a’ or ‘the’ can be difficult. Fortunately, there are rules to help you, but you need to know what type of noun you are using.

Grammar rule 1

When you have a single, countable English noun, you must always have an article before it. We cannot say “please pass me pen”, we must say “please pass me the pen” or “please pass me a pen” or “please pass me your pen”.

Nouns in English can also be uncountable. Uncountable nouns can be concepts, such as ‘life’, ‘happiness’ and so on, or materials and substances, such as ‘coffee’, or ‘wood’.

Grammar rule 2

Uncountable nouns don’t use ‘a’ or ‘an’. This is because you can’t count them. For example, advice is an uncountable noun. You can’t say “he gave me an advice”, but you can say “he gave me some advice”, or “he gave me a piece of advice”.

Some nouns can be both countable and uncountable. For example, we say “coffee” meaning the product, but we say “a coffee” when asking for one cup of coffee.

Grammar rule 3

You can use ‘the’ to make general things specific. You can use ‘the’ with any type of noun – plural or singular, countable or uncountable.

“Please pass me a pen” – any pen.
“Please pass me the pen” – the one that we can both see.

“Children grow up quickly” – children in general.
“The children I know grow up quickly” – not all children, just the ones I know.

“Poetry can be beautiful”- poetry in general.
“The poetry of Hopkins is beautiful” – I’m only talking about the poetry Hopkins wrote.

More uses of articles in English

Rivers, mountain ranges, seas, oceans and geographic areas all use ‘the’.
For example, “The Thames”, “The Alps”, “The Atlantic Ocean”, “The Middle East”.

Unique things have ‘the’.
For example, “the sun”, “the moon”.

Some institutional buildings don’t have an article if you visit them for the reason these buildings exist. But if you go to the building for another reason, you must use ‘the’.

“Her husband is in prison.” (He’s a prisoner.)
“She goes to the prison to see him once a month.”

“My son is in school.” (He’s a student.)
“I’m going to the school to see the head master.”

“She’s in hospital at the moment.” (She’s ill.)
“Her husband goes to the hospital to see her every afternoon.”

Musical instruments use ‘the’.
“She plays the piano.”

Sports don’t have an article.
“He plays football.”

Illnesses don’t have an article.
“He’s got appendicitis.”
But we say “a cold” and “a headache”.

Jobs use ‘a’.
“I’m a teacher.”

Countries
We don’t use ‘a’ if the country is singular. “He lives in England.” But if the country’s name has a “plural” meaning, we use ‘the’. “The People’s Republic of China”, “The Netherlands”, “The United States of America”.

Continents, towns and streets don’t have an article.
“Africa”, “New York”, “Church Street”.

Theatres, cinemas and hotels have ‘the’.
“The Odeon”, “The Almeira”, “The Hilton”.

Abbreviations use ‘the’.
“the UN”, “the USA”, “the IMF”.

We use ‘the’ before classes of people.
“the rich”, “the poor”, “the British”.

Posted in छोटी कहानिया - १०,००० से ज्यादा रोचक और प्रेरणात्मक

A woman came out


A wonderful story

 

A woman came out of her house and saw 3 old men with long white beards sitting in her front yard. She did not recognize them. She said “I don’t think I know you, but you must be hungry. Please come in and have something to eat.” 
 
“Is the man of the house home?”, they asked.

“No”, she replied. “He’s out.” 

“Then we cannot come in”, they replied.

In the evening when her husband came home, she told him what had happened.

“Go tell them I am home and invite them in!”

The woman went out and invited the men in” 
 
“We do not go into a House together,” they replied. 

“Why is that?” she asked. 
 
One of the old men explained: “His name is Wealth,” he said pointing to one of his friends, and said pointing to another one, “He is Success, and I am Love.” Then he added, “Now go in and discuss with your husband which one of us you want in your home.” 
 
The woman went in and told her husband what was said. Her husband was overjoyed. “How n ice!!”, he said. “Since that is the case, let us invite Wealth. Let him come and fill our home with wealth!” 
 
His wife disagreed. “My dear, why don’t we invite Success?” 
 
Their daughter was listening from the other corner of the house. She jumped in with her own suggestion: “Would it not be better to invite Love? Our home will then be filled with love!” 
 
“Let us heed our daughter’s advice,” said the husband to his wife.

“Go out and invite Love to be our guest.”

The woman went out and asked the 3 old men, “Which one of you is Love? Please come in and be our guest.” 
 
Love got up and started walking toward the house. The other 2 also got up and followed him. Surprised, t he lady asked Wealth and Success: “I only invited Love, Why are you coming in?” 
 
The old men replied together: “If you had invited Wealth or Success, the other two of us would’ve stayed out, but since you invited Love, wherever He goes, we go with him. Wherever there is Love, there is also Wealth and
Success!!!!!

 

Posted in छोटी कहानिया - १०,००० से ज्यादा रोचक और प्रेरणात्मक

Jeb lived with Ben and Lindell


Jeb lived with Ben and Lindell and two grown-up people called Mum and Dad. He had bright eyes and a shiny black nose. He was a small brown dog with a funny black patch on the tip of his left ear.

One day Jeb curled up in Mum’s chair and went fast asleep. He began to dream. In his dream he found a delicious bone. But just as he was about to start chewing on it he heard a shout. It sounded like Mum’s voice. It was Mum. Jeb was wide awake now. “Jeb! OUT! Shoo!” Mum clipped him with the newspaper and chased Jeb out the door.

Jeb hid in a bush until Mum went back inside. Then he looked about him. He was in the garden. It felt warm and damp. Here was a good place to dig for another bone – a real one! Jeb set to work. He dug quickly letting the dirt fly up behind him. This was fun. Soon he had dug quite a deep hole. Jeb was about to put his nose into the hole to sniff out a bone when he heard a yell. It sounded like Dad’s voice. It was Dad. “Jeb! OUT! Shoo!” Dad turned the hose on him and Jeb scrambled out of his hole and away.

Soon he found himself a safe new hiding place in the children’s play house. He looked about him. Ben’s kite was on the shelf. It’s long tail was dangling invitingly near his nose. Jeb grabbed it in his teeth and pulled and chewed until a piece of the tail came loose. Then he looked about for something else to do. He saw Lindell’s big brightly coloured beach ball. He gave it a knock with his paw. It rolled away. Jeb chased it. The ball went under the table. Jeb went after it. He caught the edge of the tablecloth as he went and EVERYTHING came tumbling down. Spoons, forks, plates of play food and cups of drink. Jeb began to lap up some spilt milk. Then he heard a cry. It sounded like Ben’s voice – and Lindell’s too! “Jeb! OUT! Shoo!”

Jeb’s tail sank down between his legs. He looked up at Lindell’s face. She was not smiling. He looked to Ben. But Ben was too busy looking at his chewed kite to take any notice. Jeb felt BAD. First Mum, then Dad, and now Lindell and Ben. They had all said, “Jeb! OUT! Shoo!”

Nobody wanted him. It was time to leave home – to run away. “Yes,” thought Jeb, “I’ll run away and join the circus.”

He ran down the pathway, out the gate and across the park. He was on his way. He passed the school where Ben went. He crossed the road to avoid the big black guard dog that lived at the warehouse. Soon he was far from home. But which way should he go to find the circus? He asked a horse, a cow, a sheep and a pig – but they did not know.

It was getting dark. Jeb found a bush in which to hide. He curled himself up and went to sleep. Deep into the night he woke with a start! The sounds of the night were all around him – crickets chirping, mosquitoes buzzing and somewhere close by an owl hooted. But in the distance there were other sounds. Grrr …grrrr! Could it be a lion? Hoop-hoop, hoop! Hoop-hoop, hoop! That sounded like … like a … monkey. Then came the unmistakable trumpeting sound of elephants! Jeb stood up and shook himself. He moved away from the shelter of the bush and looked up into the night sky.

At first all he saw was the twinkling lights of the stars and the rounded light of the crescent moon. Suddenly, balls of coloured lights showered across the sky and then there was the sound of music – a band was playing and there was clapping.

Jeb ran toward the lights and the sounds. As he came nearer he could see large shadows in the night and then – there it was – a huge tent! Jeb had found the circus.

He crept up to the side of the tent and crawled under a flap. There inside were lots of people clapping. A clown stepped into the ring. He did three cartwheels and then began to juggle coloured balls. Jeb thought it looked great fun. He jumped into the ring and began to follow the clown. He ran a little, then he crouched, then he ran a little more. The people cheered and clapped. Jeb felt very proud. He watched the balls – sometimes high, sometimes low. The clown threw and caught every one of them. Again, Jeb watched the balls – sometimes high, sometimes low. Then, he pounced! He caught a low ball in his mouth and ran with it around the ring. The crowd cheered and cheered. The clown looked puzzled. Where had one of his balls gone? Then he spotted Jeb. “Hey you, come here!” he called. And he chased Jeb round and round the ring. Jeb was having a fine time. He joined the next act by sitting in the passenger seat of a little red car driven by an acrobat who stood on his hands as he drove. Jeb was so glad he had joined the circus. No-one here said, “Jeb! OUT! Shoo!” He thought he would stay forever.

Soon the show was over. The people went home. The circus was packed up. The light went out. The circus people got ready for bed. Jeb was left alone. He felt hungry. There was no dish of nibbles by the door for him here as there were at home. There was no bowl of water … no blanket in a basket … and no Ben … for Jeb to creep into his bed and lick his face. All at once Jeb felt very lonely.

He crept around the tents in search of a friendly voice … but all he got was: “You! OUT! Shoo!” And Jeb knew it was time to go home.

It was still dark as Jeb set off. He passed the field where the horse, cow, sheep and pig had been – but they were fast asleep.

The big black guard dog that lived at the warehouse barked as Jeb passed by. Jeb went by the school where Ben went. Soon he was close to home.

The sun cast an orange light across the sky as Jeb crept into the house. He found his dish of nibbles by the door and his bowl of water. He sniffed at the blanket in his basket. Then he sneaked into Ben’s room, hopped up on the bed and licked Ben’s sleeping face. Ben rolled over and, still more asleep than awake, put his arm around Jeb, and said in a sleepy kind of voice: “Oh, Jeb! You’re home.”

——————————–
The RABBIT’S TAIL

by Mabel Kaplan

There was once a young rabbit who was very sad.

He had two ears.

He had two eyes.

He had a nose and mouth. He had four fine paws. His fur was white and fluffy and soft – but he had no tail!

“Where’s my tail?” he asked his mother.

“I do not know,” said his mother. “You must have lost it when you were a baby.”

The poor little rabbit grew sadder every day.

One day he said to his mother, “Do you think I can ever find another tail?’

“Perhaps,” she replied. “And when you do, I will sew it on for you.”

The little rabbit set off to find a tail. He looked everywhere. He looked in the grass. He looked under a rock. He even looked among the rubbish that had caught in the fence.

Then one day he found a soft, fresh green leaf. It looked very pretty.

The little rabbit took it home.

“Will this do for a tail?” he asked his mother.

“No, I’m afraid not,” she said. “It would dry up and drop off.”

So the little rabbit threw it away and went to look for something else.

The next day he found a feather.

“Will this do for a tail?” he asked his mother.

His mother said, “Let me see.”

She tied the feather on to the little rabbit’s bottom.

Little rabbit went out for a walk to try out his new tail. It was white like his fur. It felt soft and fluffy. The little rabbit began to sing. He was just beginning to enjoy being happy when a bird, sitting on the fence, called out to him,

“EEEeeech! EEEeeech! EEEeeech! … Who do you think you are – a bunny bird?”

And the bird laughed so hard (“EEEeeech! EEEeeech! EEEeeech!”) he nearly fell off the fence.

The little rabbit hurried home and looked in the mirror.

“I don’t like it. It looks funny. And everyone laughs at me.”

He put the feather on the shelf, saying to himself, “I must find something else.”

The next day he went to the park.

There he saw a little girl. She had something on her hat. It was round. It was white. It was soft. It looked just like a … a rabbit’s tail.

“Little girl,” said the rabbit, “what is that pretty thing on your hat?”

“It’s a pompom,” said the little girl.

“Oh!” sighed the little rabbit.

“I thought it might be a rabbit’s tail. I am looking for the tail I lost when I was a baby.”

“Poor little rabbit without a tail,” said the little girl. “You can have my pompom.”

The little rabbit laughed for joy. “And you can have my feather to put in your hat.”

He hopped home and got the feather from the shelf. He gave it to the little girl and the little girl gave him the pompom.

Little rabbit hopped back home again as fast as he could hop … to tell his mother he had found a tail. She sewed on the pompom, and little rabbit wore it for the rest of his life.

This Story is Copyrighted, if in doubt, please read COPYRIGHTS section at TALESetc.com
————————————–
Jonathan, the Fastest Snail in the Meadow

by

Jan Luthman

© Jan Luthman

Jonathan was looking dismal.

Robbit had never seen his friend looking quite so forlorn, not even on that rainy wet day when Jonathan had fallen over on a slippery corner and got mud on his nice shiny shell.

“What’s up?” asked Robbit.

“Oh, nothing,” said Jonathan, and carried on sliding glumly along the little snail-trail that led to his house

Robbit stared after his friend anxiously: whatever it was, it must be really bothering him if he wouldn’t even talk about it. Robbit hopped thoughtfully after the retreating shell, trying to think what to say.

“Bad day at school?” he ventured, “get your sums wrong?”

Robbit almost always got his sums wrong; and his spelling. Getting things wrong at school was just the way things were for Robbit. Maybe, he thought, if you were extremely clever like Jonathan, then getting a sum wrong might make you unhappy.

But Jonathan just shook his head glumly; it wasn’t anything to do with sums.

“So, why are you so gloomy, then?” demanded Robbit.

“Bullies,” mumbled Jonathan at last.

“Bullies?” asked Robbit, “What bullies?”

Jonathan hung his head

” At school,” he muttered. “They tease me.”

“Who teases you?” demanded Robbit.

Jonathan hesitated.

“The beetle boys,” he said at last.

“Oh, them,” Robbit snorted. “Nobody likes them. They bully anybody who’s smaller than they are.”

Robbitt thought for a bit.

“How do they tease you?” he asked eventually.

“Oh,” Jonathan sighed, “they call me names and….”

“And what?” asked Robbit sympathetically.

“They write things on my shell.”

“On your shell?”

“M’mmm.”

Robbit was amazed. Everybody in the meadow knew that Jonathan always took such care of his shell; it was always beautifully polished, with never a speck of dust on it.

“What did they write on it?” he asked.

Jonathan turned sideways.

“Look,” he said.

There, all across Jonathan’s gleaming shell was scrawled the word “SWOT”.

“They say I’m just a swot,” sighed Jonathan, close to tears, “a boring, boring swot.”

Robbit hopped up and down in agitation,

“But you’re not,” he cried. “You know lots and lots of things. That’s not boring at all.”

Jonathan cheered up, just a little bit. It had helped him feel a little better already, just telling a friend.

“Thank you.” He tried a watery smile, and fished around inside his shell for a handkerchief. “You’re a good friend, Robbit.”

Robbit was angry on his friend’s behalf.

“Why didn’t you just chase the beetles away?” he demanded, “I would have.”

Jonathan blew his nose.

“Dad’s bedos you’re a rabbid,” he said thickly through his hanky, “I’m only a snail. A swotty, slow snail. The only thing I can catch is a cold.”

Jonathan blew his nose loudly and tucked his hanky away in his shell and began to slide off up the hill again. Robbit hopped after him.

“Let’s go home together,” he said. “Maybe we’ll think of an idea.”

So they did.

On the way, they overtook Old Mrs Spider, struggling along the path with her bags of shopping. She looked very tired.

“Good morning, Mrs Spider,” called Robbit and Jonathan together.

“And good morning to you both, young Robbit and Jonathan,” replied Old Mrs Spider. “How nice to see you on this lovely morning.”

Jonathan and Robbit were both very polite, and asked Old Mrs Spider if they could help carry her shopping for her.

“Why, thank you,” she said, “what a kind thing to do.”

Robbit took one bag and Jonathan took the other, and the three of them went on along the path towards Mrs Spider’s house. As they walked, Old Mrs Spider noticed how quiet Jonathan was.

“Is there anything the matter?” she asked, for she was really a kindly old lady.

Before Jonathan could say anything, Robbit blurted out.

“Yes,” he said indignantly, “there jolly well is: Jonathan’s being bullied at school.”

“Bullied?” said Old Mrs Spider, “but why?”

So they told old Mrs Spider the whole story, and at the end of it Jonathan added.

‘Jonathan, the Fastest Snail’ continued.

“There’s nothing I can do about it,” he explained. “I’m just a snail; I’m far too slow to chase anybody away.”

“Just a snail, indeed!” snorted Old Mrs Spider. “Too slow to chase anybody, eh? We’ll soon see about that.”

With a twinkle in her eye, old Mrs Spider’s weaved off to a cupboard in the corner of her kitchen. She opened it and held up a small, dark green bottle.

“See this?” she asked.

“Yes,” they chorused, “what is it?”

“A secret,” she replied, “a special old spider secret. Mind, though,” She eyed them sternly, “it only works when somebody’s in trouble and needs help.”

“What does it do?”

“Makes you stronger,” she replied, “and faster.”

“How?”

Old Mrs Spider smiled and headed for the door.

” Let’s go outside,” she suggested. “There’s not enough space in here for you to go rushing around.”

Jonathan had never rushed around anywhere in his life, but, with a shrug, he slid out to Old Mrs Spider’s front gate, Robbit beside him, bouncing with curiosity.

“What do I do now?” Asked Jonathan uncertainly, once they got there.

Old Mrs Spider uncorked the little green bottle

“Take a spoonful,” she instructed.

Cautiously, Jonathan took a sip.

“Well?” he said. “Now what?”

Old Mrs Spider smiled, and pointed to a tree on the other side of the clearing. “See how fast you can run over there.”

Jonathan was just about to say that he couldn’t run anywhere when, all of a sudden, he felt like he really could. He gave a little hop of excitement then, with a puff of dust, shot off across the clearing in a blur of speed, straight towards the tree.

Robbit couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Wow!” he breathed. Robbit had never, ever seen anybody move that fast.

“Wow!” he breathed again, ” Jonathan the high speed snail!”

Away across on the other side of the clearing, Jonathan slithered to a halt beside the tree, breathing deeply. He felt wonderful.

“Now run back here again,” called old Mrs Spider.

Jonathan took a deep breath and, in a cloud of leaves and twigs and dust, zipped back across the clearing towards Robbit and old Mrs Spider.

“Watch out, Jonathan!” yelled Robbit.

It was too late. With a tremendous crash, Jonathan piled headfirst into a huge bush. There was a moment of silence, then Jonathan slid slowly and unsteadily out from under the branches.

“Oooh, my goodness,” he breathed, “things do rather rush at you, don’t they?”

” Ahem,” coughed Robbit. “That bush didn’t rush at you: you rushed at it.”

Jonathan looked rather proud of himself

“Yes, I did rather, didn’t I?” He smiled happily. He took off his spectacles and began wiping blobs of mud off them.

Robbit gazed at his friend with newly found admiration.

Jonathan put his glasses back on again,

“That was exciting,” he said, peering up at Robbit through mud-smeered lenses, “I think I’ll do it again.”

“Hang on a mo,” called Robbit. “You need some practice first.”

But Jonathan wasn’t listening. He gave a quick little hop and roared off round the clearing, his shell glinting in the sunlight as he sped across the grass.

“Oh, no,” Robbit sighed, and put his paws over his eyes, “I can’t watch.”

There was a despairing wail and a skidding noise followed by a loud thump.

Robbit uncovered his eyes and looked. There, on the far side of the clearing, lay Jonathan, his shell on one side in the mud. Old Mrs Spider chortled with delight. Robbit ran over and began to hoist his friend back upright again.

“What happened?” asked Robbit, wiping the worst of the mud and leaves off Jonathan’s shell.

“I fell over,” said Jonathan indignantly. “When I tried to turn, I fell over.”

Robbit tapped his feet impatiently.

“If you really want to run fast, and chase those bullies,” he said, his paws on his hips. “You’re going to have to learn how to steer properly.”

Jonathan scratched his head

“That’s easy for you to say,” he answered. “You’ve always been a rabbit. But I’ve always been a snail. Besides, I wear glasses, so things sometimes arrive before I see them.”

Robbit thought for a bit. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers.

“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed.

“Got what?” Jonathan was puzzled.

“The answer!” Robbit was hopping up and down with excitement. “We could use Andrew!”

“Andrew?” queried Old Mrs Spider.

“Andy,” explained Robbit, “Andy the ant.”

“How could he help?” asked Jonathan.

“Easy,” said Robbit, “Andy’s got the sharpest eyes of anybody in the meadow, and he’s tiny: he could sit on your shell and tell you which direction to go.”

It seemed like a brilliant idea.

“Come on,” Robbit bounced off down the path, “let’s go find him.”

Jonathan sped after him, Old Mrs Spider at his side, her dark green bottle clutched in one hand. She was so excited, she had quite forgotten her aches and pains. As she bowled along between the two friends, Old Mrs Spider thought to herself that she hadn’t run like this since she was a girl.

This was fun.

© Jan Luthman All copyrights reserved.

This Story is Copyrighted, if in doubt, please read COPYRIGHTS section at TALESetc.com
———————————————
This Story is Copyrighted, if in doubt, please read COPYRIGHTS section at TALESetc.com

Katie and Fluffy

by

Cherry Lawrence

There once was a little girl named Katie who had a kitty named Fluffy. Fluffy was a very lovable cat whose hair was long and bushed out in every direction. Katie was six years old and loved Fluffy and thought of him as her best friend in the whole world. She told bedtime stories to him every night. Stretched out across the bed, Katie told Fluffy stories about anything and everything, as she stroked him from head to tail and Fluffy purred and purred during story-time. Katie’s long ripples of golden-brown hair flopped over one of her rosy cheeks as she snuggled close to Fluffy and she jabbered constantly, until they both fell asleep. Bright sunshine rays shone across Katie’s face and woke her.

Fluffy was nowhere in sight. He had been disappearing for a couple days off-and-on for weeks now. Sometimes, Fluffy would hide under the bed or curl up in an open dresser drawer and even lay in the coolness of the bathtub. He also had the habit of showing up in funny places, but this time he was nowhere to be found. Katie bounced out of bed, slid into her purple slippers that matched her pink and purple gown and raced downstairs. Where was Fluffy?

Katie’s mom, Sandy, told her that he would show up when he wanted to be found, but that didn’t make Katie feel better. Mom and Dad though they’d come up with a plan to take Katie’s mind off Fluffy, so the family drove to Katie’s favorite restaurant for breakfast.

Mom and Dad wore a smile, but Katie wore a sad frown. Katie’s chair faced the window and she saw a stray cat dodging traffic to get across the street. Katie immediately thought about Fluffy: was he safe? Had a car run him over? Or, was he scared and hiding under a bush somewhere. After breakfast, Dad told Katie that he’d go with her to investigate the possibilities, of Fluffy visiting the neighbor’s houses. Katie and Ted, her tall lanky dad went door-to-door asking if anyone had seen Fluffy, but no one had.

That night, after goodnight hugs and kisses from Mom and Dad, Katie kneeled beside her bed and prayed, for God to send an angel, to help Fluffy find his way back home. Katie was so tired that she fell asleep within minutes.

Fluffy had been busy, very busy indeed. Fluffy loudly and proudly meowed and meowed right below Katie’s bedroom window. Katie happily bounced out of bed and peered out of her window. There was Fluffy still meowing and peering back at her, as if to announce he was home again. Not only was Fluffy meowing, but also a trail of little meows echoed after him. Not only had Fluffy came home, but five little Fluffys were there, and a beautiful feline calico cat, too!

Fluffy was now a father, and his whole family had followed him home. Katie ran downstairs and opened the door as Fluffy and his family trailed in, right behind him. He ran over and licked his food-bowl clean. Mom and Dad laughed. Mom poured Fluffy and his family, cat snacks into another large bowl and placed it next to the cleanly-licked bowl.

Katie remembered her prayer and thanked God for sending an Angel, and for giving her even more Fluffys, along with a mother cat, to love and help take care of.

The End

The author can be contacted at:

“Cherry Lawrence” <cherrylaw@earthlink.net>

————————————
THE SAD NETTLE

and

The Beautiful Butterfly

© Jan Luthman

It was one of those summery days when the air is heavy and warm and nobody wants to do very much. Jonathan and Robbit were resting on top of one of Moley’s hummocks, relaxing and watching the rest of the world go by. Jonathan could feel the sun’s warmth through his shell and it was making him feel comfortable and drowsy. He wriggled contentedly. Last night, before he’d gone to bed, Jonathan had taken off his shell and given it a special polish, and this morning it gleamed in the sunlight. Beside him on the soft warm molehill, Robbit lay on his back, his paws behind his head, gazing up at the clear blue sky, thinking about things in his own rabbity way.

“Why do nettles have stings?” he asked suddenly.

Jonathan had just begun to doze off, and woke with a start

“Why do nettles have what?” he asked, not quite awake.

“Stings.” Robbit scratched one of his ears in a comfortable, absent-minded sort of way.

Jonathan pondered, his head tilted to one side as he thought.

“I suppose,” he said eventually. “They have stings so nobody will eat them.”

“That’s silly,” said Robbit, “nobody’d want to eat a rotten old nettle, anyway: they’re all tough and stringy.”

Jonathan had never tried eating a nettle, so he couldn’t think of a good answer. Besides, he was still feeling sleepy and just wanted to curl up quietly inside his shell.

Robbit bounced up, his nose twitching.

“I’ve an idea,” he said.

Jonathan sighed; sometimes he wished Robbit would just relax and enjoy the sunshine.

Robbit was hopping around Moley’s hummock.

“Let’s ask Farmer Jack.”

“But,” Jonathan protested, “the Old Farmhouse is miles away.”

“No it’s not, it’s just at the top of the hill.”

“Feels like miles when you’re a snail,” grumbled Jonathan.

“Why don’t you go and ask him yourself?” he suggested. “Then you can come back and tell me.”

Robbit sat down, flipping his fingers impatiently.

“It’s no fun on my own,” he said. “Besides, that’s what a friend is for: to come with you when you’re going somewhere.”

Jonathan felt suddenly rather happy, as if a little glow had lit up inside him: it was nice when someone said you were their friend, he thought, even if they did bounce rather a lot.

He slithered down off Moley’s hill

“All right,” he agreed, “I’ll come with you.”

“Goody.” said Robbit, jumping backwards and forwards over Jonathan’s head.

“But remember,” Jonathan reminded him, “I’m not as quick as you.”

“Doesn’t matter, I can stop for a nibble or a scratch while you slide and glide.”

They set off, Robbit leaping happily from one clump of grass to another, while, beside him, Jonathan’s little round shell glinted in the sunlight as they wound their way slowly up the hill towards the Old Farmhouse, two of the best friends in the meadow.

Farmer Jack was digging his potato patch when he noticed the pair arrive.

“Hallo Robbit,” Farmer Jack stopped digging and rested on the handle of his spade, “and Jonathan.”

“Hallo Farmer Jack,” Robbit sniffed hopefully at the basket of potatoes at Farmer Jack’s feet: he didn’t much like potatoes, but he did like the green leaves that came with them. “Can I eat the leaves?” he asked.

Farmer Jack smiled

“Go ahead,” he said. “Help yourself.”

Jonathan sidled up

“Can I have some, too, please?” Jonathan’s spectacles glinted in the sunlight as he squinted up at Farmer Jack

“Course you can.”

Jonathan slid off in the direction of a particularly appetising leaf.

“My Goodness, Jonathan,” Farmer Jack called after him, “your shell’s looking very shiny this morning.”

“I polished it,” said Jonathan proudly, pleased that Farmer Jack had noticed, “last night, before I went to bed.”

“Must have taken you a long time to clean all the little whorly bits.”

“M’mm,” agreed Jonathan, “ages.”

Robbit was busy nibbling, taking care not to tread on any of the potatoes. Farmer Jack’s wife didn’t like muddy paw prints on her new potatoes.

“Farmer Jack,” he asked, just about to munch on a particularly bright green leaf, “if potato leaves taste nice and don’t sting, why do nettles?”

“Why do nettles what?”

“Fting,” Said Robbit, his mouth full of leaf.

Farmer Jack scratched his head.

“Not quite sure that I really know why, ” he replied, “but I did hear an old story once that seemed to make sense.”

Robbit stopped chewing.

“Can you tell us?” he asked.

“If I can remember it.” replied Farmer Jack, and settled down on a nearby tree stump.

“Long ago,” he began, “there was a nettle growing in a meadow.”

“Just one?” Robbit was picking at a piece of potato leaf that had got stuck between his big front teeth. “There are lots in our meadow: specially in the shady bit.”

“Maybe there were lots in this meadow as well.” said Farmer Jack, “The story didn’t say.”

Jonathan slid across and began to climb up the stump, a great big leaf hanging from the back of his shell.

“I’m bringing it with me,” he explained, “just in case it’s a long story and I get hungry while you’re talking.”

“The story, ” Robbit tugged at Farmer Jack’s trouser leg, “tell us the story.”

“Well, ” Farmer Jack began again, “this nettle was really sad.”

“Why?” demanded Robbit.

“Probably because he was lonely.” puffed Jonathan, half way up the side of the stump. “I hate being lonely.”

Farmer Jack could see it was going to take some time to tell the story.

“He was sad,” he sighed, “because nobody liked him.”

“That’s ‘cos he stung them, ” muttered Robbit.

“M’mm,” agreed farmer Jack, “but he couldn’t help it: that’s the way he was made.”

“Then,” Farmer Jack continued, “one day, a beautiful butterfly settled on one of the nettle’s leaves and, instead of saying ‘ow!’ and flying away again, the butterfly just sat there and unfolded her lovely coloured wings and rested there in the sunshine.”

Jonathans’ eyes were big as saucers behind his spectacles.

“Well,” Farmer Jack went on, “the nettle was just bursting with excitement and hardly dared move, in case he frightened the butterfly away.”

Eventually the butterfly spoke. “Why are you so quiet?” she asked the nettle.

” I don’t know what to say,” he replied, ” nobody’s ever sat on one of my leaves before.”

“I wonder why?” asked the butterfly.

“Because I sting them.” said the nettle, then added sadly. “I can’t help it.”

“Well,” declared the butterfly, “I think your leaves are very comfortable.”

She paused for a moment, deep in thought.

“I was wondering,” the butterfly said eventually, “if I could ask you a special favour.”

The nettle blushed: nobody had ever asked him a favour before.

“Of course you can,” he whispered.

“I need somewhere safe for my eggs during the winter.”

“Would you like me to look after them?”

“Yes, please,” he butterfly answered, “it would mean taking care of them for the whole winter. Could you do that?”

The nettle quivered with pleasure.

“I’d be honoured,” he said.

And so, that winter, the nettle guarded the butterfly’s eggs. All through the rain and the snow and storms, the nettle kept the eggs safe and dry under its leaves, where no animal would dare try to eat them.

In the spring, as the weather grew warmer, the eggs hatched out into caterpillars and, later, each of these caterpillars turned into a chrysalis. Finally, at long last, in the middle of the summer, each chrysalis hatched into a beautiful new butterfly. It looked so pretty, the nettle could hardly believe his eyes.

“Oh!” The beautiful new butterfly stretched its fresh new wings out to dry in the sunshine. “I do feel hungry.”

“Where will you eat?” asked the nettle.

The beautiful new butterfly flicked its glorious wings lightly. They were a deep red colour, with beautiful patterns along the edges, and had four great big eyes painted on them, blue and white and yellow and black.

“My favourite place,” she said, her wings shimmering in the sunlight, “is the flower of a Buddleia bush.”

There were lots of Buddleia bushes in the meadow, their enormous lilac-coloured flower-cones waving gently in the breeze. The butterfly flitted gracefully over to the nearest of them.

The nettle watched, then looked down at his own plain green leaves. They seemed so dull and boring next to the butterfly, he felt very humble.

As if reading his thoughts, the butterfly looked up and spoke.

“Thank you,” she said, “for looking after me all winter. I think your leaves are the strongest and safest leaves in the whole wide world.”

The nettle blushed with pride. Suddenly, he didn’t feel sad at all.

“What’s your name?” he asked her.

“Why?” she said, settling down to feed. “I’m called a Peacock butterfly.”

Farmer Jack turned to Jonathan and Robbit.

“And, do you know,” he said, “from that day on, every winter the nettle has looked after the eggs of the beautiful Peacock butterfly.”

The End

© Jan Luthman All copyrights reserved.

This Story is Copyrighted, if in doubt, please read COPYRIGHTS section at TALESetc.com

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This Story is Copyrighted, if in doubt, please read COPYRIGHTS section at TALESetc.com

THE MEMORY IN A GRAIN OF SAND

by

Lonely Shell.

Once upon a time, at the edge of the sea, there was a rock, older than Time itself. Only The Unicorn used to go there: to watch the sea at sunset, and soothe his sadness with the song of the sea. He always arrived lonely, and as each night-time fell, he left even lonelier and sadder. Only the moonlight reflecting from his mythical horn lightened the darkness, and his sadness.

One day, at twilight, the sea gathered all of its waves at the foot of the rock. The watching Unicorn was puzzled. He had never seen so much foam in one place before, and then, out of the sparkling foam, ‘She’ was born!

With a body of foam and a soul made of light, ‘She’ climbed the rock with steps of dreams and shadows. The Unicorn, looked deep into her sea-like eyes and found true happiness. ‘She’ was his beloved!

Since then, that ancient rock has been pummelled and crushed by the pounding waves of Time, and spread afar, throughout the seas of the world.

We call that crushed ancient rock ‘sand’, and imagine that it knows only of the footprints trodden into it; though soon forgetting them, as the sea wipes away the bare-foot traces, but, in every grain of sand a memory remains, of the golden summer when The Unicorn found his true love!

The End
——————————————
The Legend of the Pearl

by

Lonely Shell.

Once upon a time, there was a butterfly who was so sad and lonely that he did not want to live anymore. As he stood, very depressed, on the sea-shore, thinking about the uselessness of his life, he heard a soft, clear voice beside him.

“Good morning. Who are you?” The voice asked.

“I’m a butterfly, but who are you? A speaking stone? I don’t believe it!”

The voice replied. “I’m not a stone. I’m a shell, an oyster! I’m a living being just like you are.”

“Would you like to be my friend?” The butterfly asked. “I have no friends, and I’m very unhappy because nobody loves me. I want to die in the sea.”

“I don’t want you to die,” said the shell. “I am just as lonely and sad as you, and I too have never known what it is like to be loved, but, now that you are here neither of us is alone. Stay with me, be my winged prince and tell me all about the things that you have seen in the world; things that the eyes of a daughter-of-the sea will never see.”

The butterfly stayed at the shell’s side and they grew to love each other, more than anyone could ever imagine. The butterfly had collected all the colours in the world in his wings and he gave them, as a bouquet, to his sweetheart, while the shell gave, as her gift from the sea, all the mysterious whispers of the deep.

Their joy was short-lived, as butterflies have a shorter lifespan than shells, and when the butterfly died, the shell buried him in the sand. Then she cried and cried so much that she died of her sadness, and was dissolved by her tears.

Next morning, on a small mound of sand, marked with a coral cross, appeared the very first pearl, made from the tears of the shell, the colours from the butterfly’s wings and their love.

The End

——————————
Elsa, the bird who couldn’t fly

by

Freda Grieve

Elsa lived in the warm and sunny land of Australia. Her family were runner birds and they never flew through the air, or settled in a high tree to sing on a lovely day.

“We have no need to fly from danger” her mother said. And she showed Elsa how to hide among the grass tussocks.

“See they are almost the same colours as yourself. If a clever little emu bird keeps very still she won’t be spotted,” her big sister smiled.

But Elsa didn’t think it was much fun playing hide and seek on the ground when all the other birds could play hide and seek in the trees.

When she was just little, the Kookaburra made the woodlands ring with the sound of his laughter, as Elsa dashed about the ground with her long legs and funny little wings.

He was always telling her how he flew to the gardens of the houses beyond the forest and how the people all liked to spot him there. The lyre bird was often heard singing the loveliest songs of the summer.

But Elsa never went far from the woodland. ‘A bird dashing about near the houses would look an odd sight,’ she sighed.

Instead she practiced her running till she got faster and faster. So swiftly covering the ground that she wasn’t afraid to go down to the river bank were the other birds gathered. To rest from their flight and keep an eye out for a hungery crocodile pretending to be a harmless log. They knew that they could rise into the air and fly to the tree tops where no crocodile could follow. But Esla had grown tall, she was almost five feet and she could give a powerful kick with her strong legs. But, best of all, they could carry her away from danger, far quicker than a lumbering wicked crocodile with a hungery gleam in his eye. She often went to enjoy the cool of the river, now she had learned to overcome the nuisance of not having wings like all the other birds.

She had learned to use her feet to run.

Then one very hot summer, when the sun was baking hot, Elsa set off to find the other birds by the river and, as she went through the forest, she smelt smoke.

For the first time in her life she ran towards the houses and into one of the gardens, flapping her tiny wings and dancing up and down on her long legs.

“Look an Emu bird!” A man resting in his garden jumped up and called his family from the house.

They all came running out to see Elsa and it was then that Elsa turned and ran. She ran faster than she had ever done before and people from all the houses rushed out and followed her. Elsa led the people to the Forest.

She had brought them in time to fight the fierce blaze and when the fire was under control the people went back to their homes. Elsa had slipped away to hide among the tussocks of grass. She kept very quiet and was not to be seen again.

But the people didn’t forget the Emu bird and when they built a fine new park they put a bird at the entrance. It wasn’t the Kookaburra or the lyre or a beautiful creature in flight.

It was Elsa the running bird.

Copyright January 2001 Freda Grieve

————————————
LEONARD THE LEAF

by

Arlene F. Gunn

One bright and sunny spring day, Leonard came into the world. He wasn’t a baby robin, or a baby mouse, or a baby cricket. Leonard was a baby leaf, growing on the big oak tree on Mr. Johnson’s farm.

The tree had been there since Mr. Johnson’s great-grandfather had planted it with his father, when he was still a boy. The tree had seen many years as it grew between the big red barn and the white clapboard house. All the ‘Mr. Johnsons’ through the years have said “Good morning” to the tree, as they walked to the barn each morning, and “Good evening” to the tree, as they walked back to the house each night.

The tree grew-up hearing this and even tried a “Good morning” or “Good evening” of it’s own, on many occasions, with a wave of it’s branches or a creak from it’s trunk, but none of the ‘Mr. Johnsons’ ever really understood. Leonard, as I said, was a leaf who growing on the big oak tree. He was a bright spring-green and had strong veins starting at his base, and shooting up to his edges. He lived about half-way up the big oak tree, neither at the top, nor at the bottom, but at a very good height for a leaf. He felt the strong spring sun on his face and thought there can not be anything greater than being a leaf.

A few days after Leonard was born, a pair of birds came swooping in, through the other leaves of the big oak tree and settled on a branch not far from Leonard. He watched them all the while, wondering what they were. They looked very different than all the other leaves on the tree. They were large and very dark, but when the sun hit them they seemed to glow like the sky after a rainstorm.

“Those are starlings, Leonard”, a deep, old voice said.

“What are starlings, and who are you?” Leonard asked, shivering in the brief gust of wind that came with the voice.

“Starlings are birds”, replied the voice. “They are looking for a new place to make their nest this year. As for who I am, Leonard, I am your Mother, the tree.”

The starlings flew off, through the branches, and disappeared from Leonard’s sight. Leonard sadly watched them go.

“Will they ever come back?” Leonard asked Mother Tree.

“If not them, then another pair.” Mother Tree replied. “There are usually two or three nests in my branches, or trunk, every year.”

“What are nests?” Leonard asked of Mother Tree.

“Nests”, replied Mother Tree, “are what adult birds make to raise their children in. Some types of nests are out on my branches, some types of nests are made in holes in my trunk. Both kinds are usually made with sticks and twigs, and bits of string and spider’s webs. If you look below you, and a little to the right, you may just be able to see a nest that was made last year, by a pair of robins.”

Leonard looked down and saw a bunch of twigs and stems stuck in a crook of one of the branches. They were shaped into a bowl and even now looked very strong. “But why do they build their nests here? Why don’t they build them on the ground or in the barn?” Leonard asked.

“Many birds do nest in the barn”, replied Mother Tree, “But they are mostly pigeons, who have gotten used to man’s ways. Most wild birds nest up in trees for protection from the dogs, cats, and other animals on the ground. My leaves offer them security both from being seen and from the wind and rain.”

“Oh”, said Leonard; and with that, Mother Tree fell silent. Leonard continued to watch as the male birds danced and pranced for the females to be their wives. Eventually, the pair of starlings came back to start a nest in a hole near Leonard’s branch. They collected straw from the barn, spider webs from the bushes, and mud from the yard just after a morning rain shower. They also took some bright ribbons and thick, soft yarn to their nest from Mr. Johnson’s granddaughter. She had put them around the yard in the hopes that she could help some of the birds with their nest building.

Eventually the nest was finished and the mother starling disappeared into the hole in Mother Tree’s trunk. Leonard couldn’t quite understand this, so he asked the smartest person he knew.

“Mother Tree?”

“Yes Leonard?” Mother Tree replied with a breezy wave of her branches.

“What’s wrong with the mother starling?” Leonard asked. “She hasn’t come out of the hole for days now. She didn’t even come out during the big storm Father Wind blew up the other night that had you dancing so much.”

“She’s sitting on her eggs”, said Mother Tree. “Keeping her babies warm and out of danger. In a few more days, she should have a whole nest of young birds to feed, THEN you will see her leave the nest! But only for the few minutes it takes to find food. The father starling will also be helping, then. He will be rushing about, almost as much as the mother starling, trying to feed their young family.”

“You mean that she’s sitting on her babies right now?!” asked Leonard, worried for the baby birds. “Doesn’t it hurt them to be sat on like that, all day?”

“No Leonard,” said Mother Tree, “she is very careful with them, and also the babies are protected from being hurt by being inside their shells. All baby birds come from eggs. Eggs are round, protective houses for the baby birds to grow in until they are big enough to survive outside. The only thing they need while they are in them is warmth, and that is exactly what the mother bird is giving to them while she sits on them like that.”

“Oh”, said Leonard, and with that, Mother Tree fell silent.

————————————–
Annie and Metoo

by

Arlene F Gunn

Annie was a very lonely girl. She lived with her parents, on a small farm, way up on the side of a mountain, in Vermont. They lived far away from almost everybody. Annie’s parents liked it that way, but Annie didn’t. Annie’s parents made sure she had plenty of toys and games and stuffies, but she didn’t have any friends. There was no one to play her many toys and games with. Her dog Cyder was OK, and the farm cats were fun to play with sometimes, but what Annie really wanted was a friend. Her parents tried their best, but her father was gone most of the day, and her mother was usually busy with chores around the farm.

During the day, Annie would usually go outside and play what her mother called her “imagine” games. Annie would imagine that the old tree in the front yard was a pirate trying to steal her family’s treasure. She would imagine that the boulder in the back was a high mountain and she was the first ever to reach the top. She would imagine that the little rock in the meadow was a desert island in the middle of a great sea.

She had many imagines to choose from, but her favorite she could only do on bright, sunny days. On those days, she would imagine her friend. On sunny days, Annie would run out of the house early in the morning and go to the meadow, or down by the brook, or anyplace where she could see her shadow. On those days, Annie imagined that her shadow was her friend. Her friend’s name was Metoo, because it was her, too.

Annie imagined that Metoo was her big sister, a little older and a little bigger, but not too big. Metoo was just like a big sister should be; she never laughed at Annie, or called her names or any of the other things that her cousins did, when they came to visit. Metoo would go almost everywhere with Annie, sometimes leading, sometimes following, always right there with her. Imagining Metoo didn’t work well in the woods, except on the brightest of days, so they pretty much stayed out in the open, whenever they could.

Often, Annie and Metoo would play hide-and-seek (Metoo would always win) or tag (Annie would win those) or just twirl around (they both were good at that!).

Sometimes, on rainy days when her mother had a lot of work to do, Annie would take the shade off of the lamp in the living room and read to Metoo. She would ask Metoo questions about the book, and Metoo would try to answer them, but sometimes, if her questions were to hard for Metoo, Annie had to go and ask her mother. Metoo was Annie’s best friend. She could tell Metoo anything, and usually did. Sometimes, Annie imagined Metoo telling her stories about where she went when it was cloudy, or at night: those she liked most of all. Metoo would tell Annie about how, at night, all the shadows came out from their daytime places and danced in the forest, swinging and twirling around. The shadows were very big too. All afternoon they would grow longer and longer, until, at sunset, they took up all the night’s sky. Then they would dance around the forests and have a grand old time!

Metoo told Annie about the mice and deer and owls that came out to play with them. She told her about how small the mice were, and how soft the owls were. How the deer would chase them (something like the tag game that she and Annie played), and how the mushrooms would grow for them, so they would have someplace to sit when they got tired.

Annie’s mother didn’t know about Metoo, all she knew was that Annie was happy. She had been worried, at first, about Annie being alone so much of the day, but Annie laughed, ran and acted like other little girls, so she had stopped worrying so much about her.

One bright and sunny day, when Annie and Metoo were playing in the meadow, Annie tripped on a root and twisted her ankle and when she tried to get up, she cried out because it hurt so badly. She knew that her mother was in the house, but it was too far for her to yell. She tried to have Metoo go and get her, but she wouldn’t leave Annie. Metoo said she had an idea though and called to one of the birds that were flying by. When it came to her, she asked it to go to the house and fly to the window, so the woman would see it. Then, when it had the woman’s attention, the bird had to get her, at least, to the beginning of the trail to the meadow, so that when Annie yelled, her mother would be able to hear her. The bird didn’t want to do it, but it said it would try and flew off towards the house, screeching all the way.

Annie and Metoo waited a few more minutes, and then they both started to yell for Annie’s mother. With Metoo helping, Annie’s mother could hear her and ran over to see what the matter was. When she found Annie, she rushed her to the doctor’s office, to make sure she hadn’t broken anything. The doctor said it wasn’t broken, but that it would probably hurt for a while. He gave Annie a white splint to wear for a few weeks, until it felt better, and sent her home.

After Annie got back from the doctor’s (he had given her a lollipop, because she was such a brave little girl), her mother told her to stay on the couch, in the living room, and to call if she needed anything. Annie nodded, but when her mother had left to finish her chores, she turned around and took off the lampshade from the lamp beside the couch, so she could tell Metoo all about the doctor’s visit. When she looked at the other end of the couch, though, Metoo wasn’t there. It was just her normal shadow. Her friend wasn’t there.

Annie’s mother and father put her to sleep that night and when she turned on the little table-lamp, next to the bed, Metoo still wasn’t there. Annie moped around the house until she was well enough to go out in the back yard (with her mother watching through the window), she looked all around her, hoping that Metoo would be there, but it was still just a normal shadow. She went to play on the swings by herself, but it just wasn’t the same.

Annie went outside for the next few weeks looking for Metoo, in all the places they had been, but she was nowhere to be found. Metoo was gone! When Annie’s ankle was better, she went out to the meadow, and yelled for Metoo but all she heard was her echo, calling back. Annie stood and cried, and cried, for Metoo, but all she heard was her echo, crying back at her. Annie had been crying for some time, when she realized she could hear something funny in her echo. Annie sniffed and sniffled herself under control, and, as she did, so did her echo.

When she was sure her voice wouldn’t crack, she called out to Metoo one more time. This time, though, she listened to the echo. It almost sounded like Metoo did, when they had both yelled for Annie’s mother. Annie wasn’t sure at first, but as she started to giggle and laugh, she became more and more sure. Metoo had somehow gotten trapped in Annie’s echo when they had yelled for her mother! That’s why she couldn’t see Metoo in her shadow anymore, she had moved to her echo! Annie hugged herself; the way she imagined Metoo would have, and screamed and laughed and cried out in joy. She had never really lost Metoo, she had just moved to a different place!

When Annie came back home, she was smiling for the first time in weeks. Her mother smiled back at her and told her that she was very happy she was feeling better.

Annie grinned and said “Me too!” and went off to play in her room.

The End

The author can be contacted at:

“Arlene Gunn” <macnomad_01081@yahoo.com>

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Posted in छोटी कहानिया - १०,००० से ज्यादा रोचक और प्रेरणात्मक

This one is a lovely mail and you should read it


This one is a lovely mail and you should read it….. A good one too……..I am sure you will like it.

A saint asked his disciples, ‘Why do we shout in anger?
Why do people shout at each other when they are upset?’

Disciples thought for a while, one of them said, ‘Because we lose our calm, we shout for that.’
‘But, why to shout when the other person is just next to you?’ asked the saint.
‘Isn’t it possible to speak to him or her with a soft voice?
Why do you shout at a person when you’re angry?’
Disciples gave some other answers but none satisfied the saint.

Finally he explained, ‘When two people are angry at each other, their hearts distance a lot.
To cover that distance they must shout to be able to hear each other.
The angrier they are, the stronger they will have to shout to hear each other through that great distance.’

Then the saint asked, ‘What happens when two people fall in love?
They don’t shout at each other but talk softly, why? Because their hearts are very close.
The distance between them is very small…’
The saint continued, ‘When they love each other even more, what happens?
They do not speak, only whisper and they get even closer to each other in their love.
Finally they even need not whisper, they only look at each other and that’s all.
That is how close two people are when they love each other.’

MORAL: When you argue do not let your hearts get distant,
do not say words that distance each other more,
else there will come a day when the distance is so great
that you will not find the path to return.

Posted in छोटी कहानिया - १०,००० से ज्यादा रोचक और प्रेरणात्मक

An elderly carpenter


An elderly carpenter was ready to retire. He told his employer- contractor of his plans to leave the house- building business and live a more leisurely life with his wife enjoying his extended family. He would miss the paycheck, but he needed to retire. They could get by.

The contractor was sorry to see his good worker go and asked if he could build just one more house as a personal favor. The carpenter said yes, but in time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his work. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and used inferior materials. It was an unfortunate way to end a dedicated career.

When the carpenter finished his work the employer came to inspect the house. He handed the front-door key to the carpenter.

This is your house, he said, my gift to you.

The carpenter was shocked! What a shame!

If he had only known he was building his own, he would have done it all so differently.

We do the most of the things having such thoughts in our mind. But we only realize when it comes back to us.

So it is with us. We build our lives, a day at a time, often putting less than our best into the building. Then with a shock we realize we have to live in the house that we have built. If we could do it over, we’d do it much differently. But we cannot go back.

You are the carpenter. Each day you hammer a nail, place a board, or erect a wall. Life is a do-it-yourself project, someone has said. Your attitudes and the choices you make today, build the house you live in tomorrow. Build wisely!

Posted in छोटी कहानिया - १०,००० से ज्यादा रोचक और प्रेरणात्मक

A boy and a girl were playing together.


A SMALL STORY

A boy and a girl were playing together. The boy had a collection of marbles. The girl had some sweets with her. The boy told the girl that he will give her all his marbles in exchange for her sweets. The girl agreed.

The boy kept the biggest and the most beautiful marble aside and gave the rest to the girl. The girl gave him all her sweets as she had promised.
That night, the girl slept peacefully. But the boy couldn¢t sleep as he kept wondering if the girl had hidden some sweets from him the way he had hidden his best marble.
Moral of the story: If you don¢t give your hundred percent in a relationship, you¢ll always keep doubting if the other person has given his/her hundred percent.. This is applicable for any relationship like love, employer-employee relationship etc., Give your hundred percent to everything you do and sleep peacefully

Posted in छोटी कहानिया - १०,००० से ज्यादा रोचक और प्रेरणात्मक

One fine day, an old couple around the age of 70, walks into a lawyer’s office.


One fine day, an old couple around the age of 70, walks into a lawyer’s office.

Apparently, they are there to file a divorce.Lawyer was very puzzled, after having a chat with them, he got their story….

This couple had been quarreling all their 40 over yrs of marriage nothing ever seems to go right.They hang on because of their children, afraid that it might affect their up-bringing. Now, all their children have already grown up, have their own family, there’s nothing else the old couple have to worry about, all they wanted is to lead their own life free from all these years of unhappiness from their marriage, so both agree on a divorce….

Lawyer was having a hard time trying to get the papers done, because he felt that after 40 yrs of marriage at the age of 70, he couldn’t understand why the old couple would still want a divorce..

While they were signing the papers, the wife told the husband..

“I really love u, but I really cant carry on anymore, I’m sorry..”

“Its o.k, I understand..” said the husband. Lookin at this, the lawyer suggested a dinner together, just 3 of them,wife thought, why not, since they are still gonna be friends..

At the dining table, there was a silence of awkardness.

The first dish was roasted chicken, immediately, the old man took the drumstick for the old lady..”take this, its your favourite..”

Looking at this, the lawyer thought maybe theres still a chance, but the wife was frowning when she answer..”This is always the problem, you always think so highly of yourself, never thought about how I feel, don’t you know that I hate drumsticks?”

Little did she know that, over the years, the husband have been trying all ways to please her, little did she know that drumsticks was the husband’s favourite. Little did he know that she never thought he understand her at all, little did he know that she hates drummsticks even though all he wants is the best for her.

That night, both of them couldn’t sleep, toss and turn, toss and turn…after hours, the old man couldn’t take it anymore, he knows that he still loves her, and he cant carry on life without her, he wants her back, he wants to tell her, he is sorry, he wanted to tell her “I love you”…

He picks up the phone, starting dialing her number….ringing never stops..he never stop dialing….On the other side, she was sad, she couldn’t understand how come after all these years, he still doesn’t understand her at all, she loves him a lot, but she just cant take it anymore….phone’s ringing, she refuses to answer knowing that its him…”whats the point of talking now that its over…I have ask for it and now I wanna keep it this way, if not I will lose face..”she thought…still ringing…she have decided to pull out the cord… Little did she remember, he have heart problems…

The next day, she received news that he had passed away…she rushed down to his apartment, saw his body, lying on the couch still holding on to the phone…he had a heart attack when he was still trying to get through her phone line….

As sad as she could be…she will have to clear his belongings.. .when she was looking thru the drawers, she saw this insurance policy, dated from the day they got married, with the beneficiary being her… And together in those file, there was this note…

“To my dearest wife, by the time you’re reading this, I’m sure I’m no longer around, I bought this policy for you, though the amount is only $100k, I hope it will be able to help me continue my promise that I have made when we got married, I might not be around anymore, I want this amount of money to continue taking care of you, just like the way I will if I could have live longer. I want you to know Iwill always be around, by your side… I love you”

Tears flowed like river……

“When you love someone, let them know… You never know what will happen the next minute…. Learn to build a life together.. Learn to love each other. For who they are.. Not what they are…”

***********

Posted in नहेरु परिवार - Nehru Family

नेहरु खानदान का अस्तित्व


नेहरु खानदान का अस्तित्व
नेहरू से पहले ….नेहरू की पीढ़ी इस प्रकार
है ….
सबसे पहले !
गंगाधर नेहरु
उसका बेटा
राज कुमार नेहरु
उसका बेटा
विद्याधर नेहरु
उसका बेटा
मोतीलाल नेहरु
और अंत
जवाहर लाल नेहरु
गंगाधर नेहरु (Nehru) उर्फ़ GAYAS –
UD – DIN SHAH जिसे GAZI
की उपाधि दी गई थी ….
GAZI जिसका मतलब होता है (KAFIR –
KILLER)
इस गयासुद्दीन गाजी ने
ही मुसलमानों को खबर (मुखबिरी )
दी थी की गुरु गोबिंद सिंह जी नांदेड में
आये हुए हैं , इसकी मुखबिरी और पक्की खबर
के कारण ही सिखों के दशम गुरु गोबिंद
सिंह जी के ऊपर हमला बोला गया, जिसमे
उन्हें चोट पहुंची और कुछ दिन बाद
उनकी मृत्यु हो गई थी.
और आज नांदेड में सिक्खों का बहुत
बड़ा तीर्थ-स्थान बना हुआ है. जब
गयासुद्दीन को हिन्दू और सिक्ख मिलकर
चारों और ढूँढने लगे तो उसने अपना नाम
बदल लिया और गंगाधर राव बन गया, और
उसे इससे पहले मुसलमानों ने पुरस्कार के रूप
में अलाहाबाद, उत्तर प्रदेश में इशरत
मंजिल नामक महल/हवेली दिया,
जिसका नाम आज आनंद भवन है ….आनंद भवन
को आज अलाहाबाद में kangress
का मुख्यालय बनाया हुआ है इशरत मंजिल के
बगल से एक नहर गुजरा करती थी, जिसके
कारण लोग गंगाधर को नहर के पास
वाला, नहर किनारे वाला, नहर वाला,
neharua , आदि बोलते थे जो बाद में
गंगाधर नेहरु अपना लिखने लगा इस
प्रकार से एक नया उपनाम अस्तित्व में
आया नेहरु और आज समय ऐसा है की एक दिन
अरुण नेहरु को छोड़कर कोई नेहरु
नहीं बचा …
अपने आप को कश्मीरी पंडित कह कर रह
रहा था गंगाधर क्यूंकि अफगानी था और
लोग आसानी से विश्वास कर लेते थे
क्यूंकि कश्मीरी पंडित भी ऐसे ही लगते थे.
अपने आप को पंडित साबित करने के लिए
सबने नाम के आगे पंडित लगाना शुरू कर
दिया
गंगाधर नेहरु
राज कुमार नेहरु
विद्याधर नेहरु
मोतीलाल नेहरु
जवाहर लाल नेहरु लिखा ..
और यही नाम व्यवहार में लाते गए …
पंडित जवाहर लाल नेहरु अगर कश्मीर
का था तो आज कहाँ गया कश्मीर में वो घर
आज तो वो कश्मीर में कांग्रेस का मुख्यालय
होना चाहिए जिस प्रकार आनंद भवन
कांग्रेस का मुख्यालय बना हुआ है
इलाहाबाद में….
ये कहानी इतनी पुरानी भी नहीं है
की इसके तथ्य कश्मीर में मिल न सकें ….
आज हर पुरानी चीज़ मिल रही है ….
चित्रकूट में भगवन श्री राम के पैरों के
निशान मिले,
लंका में रावन की लंका मिली, उसके हवाई
अड्डे, अशोक वाटिका, संजीवनी बूटी वाले
पहाड़ आदि बहुत कुछ….
समुद्र में भगवान श्री कृष्ण भगवान्
द्वारा बसाई गई
द्वारिका नगरी मिली ,
करोड़ों वर्ष पूर्व की DINOSAUR के
अवशेष मिले तो 150 वर्ष पुराना कश्मीर
में नकली नेहरू का अस्तित्व
ढूंढना क्या कठिन है ?????
दुश्मन बहुत होशिआर है हमें आजादी के धोखे
में रखा हुआ है,
इस से उभरने के लिए इनको इन सब से
भी बड़ी चुस्की पिलानी पड़ेगी जो की मेरे
विचार से धर्मान्धता ही हो सकती है जैसे
गणेश को दूध
पिलाया था अन्यथा किसी डिक्टेटर
को आना पड़ेगा या सिविल वार
अनिवार्य हो जायेगा
तो क्या सोचा हम नेहरू को कौनसे नाम से
पुकारे ? जवाहरुद्दीन या चाचा नेहरू ?
जो नेहरू नेहरू कहते है उनसे पूछिये की इस
खानदान के अलावा भारत मे और कोई नेहरू
क्यूँ नहीं हुआ ?
अगर यह वास्तव मे ब्राह्मण
था तो ब्राह्मनों मे नेहरू नाम की गोत्र
अवश्य होनी चाहिए थी ? क्यूँ नहीं है
क्यों देश मे और कोई नेहरू नहीं मिलता ?
क्या ये जवाहर लाल के परिवार वाले
आसमान से टपके थे ?
जय भारत जय हो

नेहरु खानदान का अस्तित्व
नेहरू से पहले ....नेहरू की पीढ़ी इस प्रकार
है ....
सबसे पहले !
गंगाधर नेहरु
उसका बेटा
राज कुमार नेहरु
उसका बेटा
विद्याधर नेहरु
उसका बेटा
मोतीलाल नेहरु
और अंत
जवाहर लाल नेहरु
गंगाधर नेहरु (Nehru) उर्फ़ GAYAS -
UD - DIN SHAH जिसे GAZI
की उपाधि दी गई थी ....
GAZI जिसका मतलब होता है (KAFIR -
KILLER)
इस गयासुद्दीन गाजी ने
ही मुसलमानों को खबर (मुखबिरी )
दी थी की गुरु गोबिंद सिंह जी नांदेड में
आये हुए हैं , इसकी मुखबिरी और पक्की खबर
के कारण ही सिखों के दशम गुरु गोबिंद
सिंह जी के ऊपर हमला बोला गया, जिसमे
उन्हें चोट पहुंची और कुछ दिन बाद
उनकी मृत्यु हो गई थी.
और आज नांदेड में सिक्खों का बहुत
बड़ा तीर्थ-स्थान बना हुआ है. जब
गयासुद्दीन को हिन्दू और सिक्ख मिलकर
चारों और ढूँढने लगे तो उसने अपना नाम
बदल लिया और गंगाधर राव बन गया, और
उसे इससे पहले मुसलमानों ने पुरस्कार के रूप
में अलाहाबाद, उत्तर प्रदेश में इशरत
मंजिल नामक महल/हवेली दिया,
जिसका नाम आज आनंद भवन है ....आनंद भवन
को आज अलाहाबाद में kangress
का मुख्यालय बनाया हुआ है इशरत मंजिल के
बगल से एक नहर गुजरा करती थी, जिसके
कारण लोग गंगाधर को नहर के पास
वाला, नहर किनारे वाला, नहर वाला,
neharua , आदि बोलते थे जो बाद में
गंगाधर नेहरु अपना लिखने लगा इस
प्रकार से एक नया उपनाम अस्तित्व में
आया नेहरु और आज समय ऐसा है की एक दिन
अरुण नेहरु को छोड़कर कोई नेहरु
नहीं बचा ...
अपने आप को कश्मीरी पंडित कह कर रह
रहा था गंगाधर क्यूंकि अफगानी था और
लोग आसानी से विश्वास कर लेते थे
क्यूंकि कश्मीरी पंडित भी ऐसे ही लगते थे.
अपने आप को पंडित साबित करने के लिए
सबने नाम के आगे पंडित लगाना शुरू कर
दिया
गंगाधर नेहरु
राज कुमार नेहरु
विद्याधर नेहरु
मोतीलाल नेहरु
जवाहर लाल नेहरु लिखा ..
और यही नाम व्यवहार में लाते गए ...
पंडित जवाहर लाल नेहरु अगर कश्मीर
का था तो आज कहाँ गया कश्मीर में वो घर
आज तो वो कश्मीर में कांग्रेस का मुख्यालय
होना चाहिए जिस प्रकार आनंद भवन
कांग्रेस का मुख्यालय बना हुआ है
इलाहाबाद में....
ये कहानी इतनी पुरानी भी नहीं है
की इसके तथ्य कश्मीर में मिल न सकें ....
आज हर पुरानी चीज़ मिल रही है ....
चित्रकूट में भगवन श्री राम के पैरों के
निशान मिले,
लंका में रावन की लंका मिली, उसके हवाई
अड्डे, अशोक वाटिका, संजीवनी बूटी वाले
पहाड़ आदि बहुत कुछ....
समुद्र में भगवान श्री कृष्ण भगवान्
द्वारा बसाई गई
द्वारिका नगरी मिली ,
करोड़ों वर्ष पूर्व की DINOSAUR के
अवशेष मिले तो 150 वर्ष पुराना कश्मीर
में नकली नेहरू का अस्तित्व
ढूंढना क्या कठिन है ?????
दुश्मन बहुत होशिआर है हमें आजादी के धोखे
में रखा हुआ है,
इस से उभरने के लिए इनको इन सब से
भी बड़ी चुस्की पिलानी पड़ेगी जो की मेरे
विचार से धर्मान्धता ही हो सकती है जैसे
गणेश को दूध
पिलाया था अन्यथा किसी डिक्टेटर
को आना पड़ेगा या सिविल वार
अनिवार्य हो जायेगा
तो क्या सोचा हम नेहरू को कौनसे नाम से
पुकारे ? जवाहरुद्दीन या चाचा नेहरू ?
जो नेहरू नेहरू कहते है उनसे पूछिये की इस
खानदान के अलावा भारत मे और कोई नेहरू
क्यूँ नहीं हुआ ?
अगर यह वास्तव मे ब्राह्मण
था तो ब्राह्मनों मे नेहरू नाम की गोत्र
अवश्य होनी चाहिए थी ? क्यूँ नहीं है
क्यों देश मे और कोई नेहरू नहीं मिलता ?
क्या ये जवाहर लाल के परिवार वाले
आसमान से टपके थे ?
जय भारत जय हो
Posted in भारतीय मंदिर - Bharatiya Mandir

छत्तीसगढ़ में मिला काशी विश्वनाथ जैसा 2 हजार साल पुराना शिवलिंग


छत्तीसगढ़ में मिला काशी विश्वनाथ जैसा 2 हजार साल पुराना शिवलिंग

नीरज गजेंद्र|Jul 31, 2014, 03:27AM IST
 
 
 
छत्तीसगढ़ में मिला काशी विश्वनाथ जैसा 2 हजार साल पुराना शिवलिंग
 
 
 
 
(साइट नंबर 15 की खुदाई के दौरान मिले मंदिर के अवशेषों के बीच 4 फीट लंबा 2.5 फीट की गोलाई वाला यह शिवलिंग निकला है।)
 
महासमुंद . खुदाई के दौरान सिरपुर में द्वादश ज्योतिर्लिंगों वाले पौरुष पत्थर से बना शिवलिंग मिला है। छत्तीसगढ़ के पुरातत्व सलाहकार अरुण कुमार शर्मा का दावा है कि यह दो हजार साल पुराना है और राज्य में मिला सबसे प्राचीन व विशाल शिवलिंग है।
 
वाराणसी के काशी विश्वनाथ और उज्जैन के महाकालेश्वर शिवलिंग जैसा है सिरपुर में मिला शिवलिंग। बेहद चिकना। पहली शताब्दी में सरभपुरिया राजाओं के द्वारा बनाए गए मंदिर के प्रमाण भी मिले।  इस शिवलिंग में विष्णु सूत्र (जनेऊ) और असंख्य शिव धारियां हैं। 
 
साइट नंबर 15 में  मिला
 
साइट नंबर 15 की खुदाई के दौरान मिले मंदिर के अवशेषों के बीच 4 फीट लंबा 2.5 फीट की गोलाई वाला यह शिवलिंग निकला है। बारहवीं शताब्दी में आए भूकंप और बाद में चित्रोत्पला महानदी की बाढ़ में पूरा मंदिर परिसर ढह गया था। मंदिर के खंभे नदी के किनारे चले गए। सिरपुर में कई सालों से चल रही खुदाई में सैकड़ों शिवलिंग मिले हैं। इनमें से गंधेश्वर की तरह यह शिवलिंग भी साबूत निकला।
भूकंप और बाढ़ से गंधेश्वर मंदिर भी पूरी तरह से क्षतिग्रस्त हो गया था। पर यहां मौजूद सफेद पत्थर से बना शिवलिंग सुरक्षित बच गया। सिरपुर में मिले गंधेश्वर शिवलिंग की विशेषता उससे निकलने वाली तुलसी के पौधे जैसी सुगंध से है। 
 
सबसे प्राचीन मिलना बाकी
 
पुरातत्व सलाहकार अरुण कुमार शर्मा ने बताया कि ब्रिटिश पुरातत्ववेत्ता बैडलर ने 1862 में लिखे संस्मरण में एक विशाल शिवमंदिर का जिक्र किया है। लक्ष्मण मंदिर परिसर के दक्षिण में स्थित एक टीले के नीचे राज्य के संभवत: सबसे बड़े और प्राचीन शिव मंदिर की खुदाई होना बाकी है।
 
ऐसे हुई वक्त की गणना 
 
पुरातत्व के जानकारों के अनुसार भूकंप और बाढ़ ने सिरपुर शहर को 12वीं सदी में जबर्दस्त नुकसान पहुंचाया था। कालांतर में नदी की रेत और मिट्टी की परतें शहर को दबाती चलीं गईं। टीलों को कई मीटर खोदकर शहर की संरचना को निकाला गया। खुदाई में मिले सिक्कों, प्रतिमाओं, ताम्रपत्र, बर्तन, शिलालेखों के आधार पर उस काल की गणना होती गई। साइट पर खुदाई की गहराई जैसे-जैसे बढ़ती है, प्राचीन काल के और सबूत मिलते जाते हैं। जमीन में जिस गहराई पर शिवलिंग मिला, उसके आधार पर इसे दो हजार साल पुराना माना गया है।
 
भारत में मौजूद चार सबसे ऊंचे शिवलिंग
 
– 108 फीट कर्नाटक का कोटिलिंगेश्वर 
 
– 108 फीट सिकंदराबाद का महाशिवलिंग
 
– 65 फीट झारखंड का हरिहर धाम मंदिर 
 
– 22 फीट मध्यप्रदेश के भोजपुर में
 
आगे की स्लाइड्स में देखें तस्वीरें
Posted in भारत का गुप्त इतिहास- Bharat Ka rahasyamay Itihaas

जोधा बाई अकबर की पत्नी नहीं थी !!


जोधा बाई अकबर की पत्नी नहीं थी !!

मुर्ख इतिहास तो यही कहता है कि जयपुर के राजा भारमल
की बेटी का विवाह मुगल शासक अकबर के साथ हुआ था किंतु
सच कुछ और ही है…!
वस्तुत: न तो जोधाबाई का विवाह अकबर के साथ
कराया गया था और न ही विदाई के समय जोधाबाई

को दिल्ली ही भेजा गया था. अब प्रश्न उठता है कि फिर
जोधाबाई के नाम पर किस युवती से अकबर का विवाह
रचाया गया था ?
अकबर का विवाह जोधाबाई के नाम पर दीवान वीरमल
की बेटी पानबाई के साथ रचाया गया था. दीवान वीरमल
का पिता खाजूखाँ अकबर की सेना का मुखिया था.
किसी बड़ी ग़लती के कारण अकबर ने खाजूखाँ को जेल में डालकर
खोड़ाबेड़ी पहना दी और फाँसी का हुक्म दिया. मौका पाकर
खाजूखाँ खोड़ाबेड़ी तोड़ जेल से भाग गया और सपरिवार जयपुर आ
पगड़ी धारणकर शाह बन गया. खाजूखाँ का बेटा वीरमल
बड़ा ही तेज और होनहार था, सो दीवान बना लिया गया. यह भेद
बहुत कम लोगों को ही ज्ञात था.! दीवान वीरमल का विवाह
दीवालबाई के साथ हुआ था. पानबाई वीरमल और दीवालबाई
की पुत्री थी. पानबाई और जोधाबाई हम उम्र व दिखने में
दोनों एक जैसी थी. इस प्रकरण में मेड़ता के राव
दूदा राजा मानसिंह के पूरे सहयोगी और परामर्शक रहे. राव दूदा के
परामर्श से जोधाबाई को जोधपुर भेज दिया गया. इसके साथ
हिम्मत सिंह और उसकी पत्नी मूलीबाई को जोधाबाई के धर्म के
पिता-माता बनाकर भेजा गया, परन्तु भेद खुल जाने के डर से
दूदा इन्हें मेड़ता ले गया, और वहाँ से ठिकानापति बनाकर
कुड़की भेज दिया. जोधाबाई का नाम जगत कुंवर कर
दिया गया और राव दूदा ने उससे अपने पुत्र का विवाह रचा दिया.
इस प्रकार जयपुर के राजा भारमल की बेटी जोधाबाई उर्फ जगत
कुंवर का विवाह तो मेड़ता के राव दूदा के बेटे रतन सिंह के साथ
हुआ था. विवाह के एक वर्ष बाद जगत कुंवर ने एक
बालिका को जन्म दिया. यही बालिका मीराबाई थी. इधर विवाह
के बाद अकबर ने कई बार जोधाबाई (पानबाई) को कहा कि वह
मानसिंह को शीघ्र दिल्ली बुला ले. पहले तो पानबाई
सुनी अनसुनी करती रही परन्तु जब अकबर बहुत परेशान करने
लगा तो पानबाई ने मानसिंह के पास समाचार भेजा कि वें शीघ्र
दिल्ली चले आये नहीं तो वह सारा भेद खोल देगी. ऐसी स्थिति में
मानसिंह क्या करते, उन्हें न चाहते हुए भी मजबूर होकर
दिल्ली जाना पड़ा. अकबर व पानबाई उर्फ जोधाबाई
दम्पति की संतान सलीम हुए, जिसे इतिहास जहाँगीर के नाम से
जनता है ! ..

जोधा बाई अकबर की पत्नी नहीं थी !!

मुर्ख इतिहास तो यही कहता है कि जयपुर के राजा भारमल
की बेटी का विवाह मुगल शासक अकबर के साथ हुआ था किंतु
सच कुछ और ही है...!
वस्तुत: न तो जोधाबाई का विवाह अकबर के साथ
कराया गया था और न ही विदाई के समय जोधाबाई

को दिल्ली ही भेजा गया था. अब प्रश्न उठता है कि फिर
जोधाबाई के नाम पर किस युवती से अकबर का विवाह
रचाया गया था ?
अकबर का विवाह जोधाबाई के नाम पर दीवान वीरमल
की बेटी पानबाई के साथ रचाया गया था. दीवान वीरमल
का पिता खाजूखाँ अकबर की सेना का मुखिया था.
किसी बड़ी ग़लती के कारण अकबर ने खाजूखाँ को जेल में डालकर
खोड़ाबेड़ी पहना दी और फाँसी का हुक्म दिया. मौका पाकर
खाजूखाँ खोड़ाबेड़ी तोड़ जेल से भाग गया और सपरिवार जयपुर आ
पगड़ी धारणकर शाह बन गया. खाजूखाँ का बेटा वीरमल
बड़ा ही तेज और होनहार था, सो दीवान बना लिया गया. यह भेद
बहुत कम लोगों को ही ज्ञात था.! दीवान वीरमल का विवाह
दीवालबाई के साथ हुआ था. पानबाई वीरमल और दीवालबाई
की पुत्री थी. पानबाई और जोधाबाई हम उम्र व दिखने में
दोनों एक जैसी थी. इस प्रकरण में मेड़ता के राव
दूदा राजा मानसिंह के पूरे सहयोगी और परामर्शक रहे. राव दूदा के
परामर्श से जोधाबाई को जोधपुर भेज दिया गया. इसके साथ
हिम्मत सिंह और उसकी पत्नी मूलीबाई को जोधाबाई के धर्म के
पिता-माता बनाकर भेजा गया, परन्तु भेद खुल जाने के डर से
दूदा इन्हें मेड़ता ले गया, और वहाँ से ठिकानापति बनाकर
कुड़की भेज दिया. जोधाबाई का नाम जगत कुंवर कर
दिया गया और राव दूदा ने उससे अपने पुत्र का विवाह रचा दिया.
इस प्रकार जयपुर के राजा भारमल की बेटी जोधाबाई उर्फ जगत
कुंवर का विवाह तो मेड़ता के राव दूदा के बेटे रतन सिंह के साथ
हुआ था. विवाह के एक वर्ष बाद जगत कुंवर ने एक
बालिका को जन्म दिया. यही बालिका मीराबाई थी. इधर विवाह
के बाद अकबर ने कई बार जोधाबाई (पानबाई) को कहा कि वह
मानसिंह को शीघ्र दिल्ली बुला ले. पहले तो पानबाई
सुनी अनसुनी करती रही परन्तु जब अकबर बहुत परेशान करने
लगा तो पानबाई ने मानसिंह के पास समाचार भेजा कि वें शीघ्र
दिल्ली चले आये नहीं तो वह सारा भेद खोल देगी. ऐसी स्थिति में
मानसिंह क्या करते, उन्हें न चाहते हुए भी मजबूर होकर
दिल्ली जाना पड़ा. अकबर व पानबाई उर्फ जोधाबाई
दम्पति की संतान सलीम हुए, जिसे इतिहास जहाँगीर के नाम से
जनता है ! ..