Thirteen-year-old Monikanchon dashed into the sea of clueless strollers, joyous visitors, and perplexed shoppers. The enthusiastic teenager head-butted and elbow-jabbed to reach some of his favourite stalls at the annual street fair on the occasion of Charak Puja on Beadon Street of Calcutta of 1920. It was the last day of the festival, and waves of people slowly moved through the cobbled road while mobile hawkers and makeshift stall owners screamed at the top of their lungs to attract buyers to their homegrown wares.
“Moni Dada, don’t leave my hand. You will get lost in the crowd,” screamed Godadhor, the trusted caretaker of the Zamindar, Hem Chandra Ray’s only spoilt son. “Get lost Goda! You will only slow me down, you imbecile,” shrieked back the arrogant teenager and pushed his way through the crowd.
A street fair in 1920 was not only a place to casually visit but a great opportunity for the population of the region and its neighbouring areas to buy some essential goods and certain exotic wares from a single location, otherwise not easily accessible throughout the year. It was a venue to meet and greet, a place to buy and sell, a destination to gape and awe, and an experience to take home stories to share.
Right from forged iron tools to wooden furniture and playthings, to pickles of every kind, to crude musical instruments, to spices and oils, to seeds, grains, and plants, to apparel and accessories, to livestock and its fodder, to glass curios, to tinker toys, to the street foods of the time, one could nearly find every sight, sound, and smell of the era in a fair of this kind.
While a wrinkled septuagenarian spun a load of candy floss on a twig of oily cane, a younger vendor blew bubbles of soapy water from the wired ring of a bamboo toy. While at one corner, a pair of dark and sweaty trollish men turned a short and creaky wooden Ferris wheel filled with shrieking children, at another end, male devotees to Lord Shiva swung from poles with hooks thrust through the skin of their backs. All of this was too much of a distraction for a spoilt child of a rich landlord. Monikanchon ran amok through the fair like a fox in a coop of hens, followed by his fat and panting lowborn chaperon Godadhor Gayen.
The zamindar Hem Chandra Ray had amassed a lot of wealth through his string of businesses with the British. From Jute to Indigo to spices, the man had a steak in many profitable enterprises. To him, however, all the treasures in the world were nothing in comparison to his only son, Monikanchon. After losing two wives to stillborn childbirths, Moni was conceived out of Ray Saheb’s very late third marriage. The zamindar had performed many extravagant religious ceremonies to appease the Mother Goddess, and finally, Durga Ma had answered the man’s prayers.
Monikanchon jabbed his right arm into a pot of freshly laid palm-jaggery curd and pulled out a scoop to thrust it into the hollow of his chubby mouth. “What on Earth are you doing,” shouted the poor curd-maker. Godadhor was quick to fling a one-pice brass coin with a hole in the middle at the poor man before he could protest any further about the zamindar’s son’s attack on his curd pot.
The chubby ruffian then pounced on a vendor of freshly fried vegetable fritters, picking up one savoury treat after the other, tossing it in front of his chomping incisors. Godadhor promptly chucked a few coins again to cover up Monikanchon’s food carnage. The tinker toy man fell on the destructors radar next. The round and bulky boy nearly toppled every standing toy, to pick up a red-coat tin soldier. He threw the toy back at Goda for safekeeping and pranced away to the next stall continuing his attack.
One shop after the other, the spoilt brat made his way through the fair leaving behind a trail of a mess, while Godadhor, his trusted warden, shelled a coin after the other to cover up his young master’s gluttonous and greedy rampage.
Monikanchon’s wild run finally came to a halt in front of a beautiful shoe stall. A boy of his age sat in the middle of the shop, which was just a rug of ten-by-ten feet laid on the ground. Handmade pairs of the most unique and beautiful slippers and shoes made with wood, leather and bits and pieces of metal surrounded the teenage vendor in concentric circles. Under a mat on which he sat, he stashed his coins and cash and covered his legs with a coarse woollen blanket. He constantly dusted the displayed footwear with a shredded cloth tied to the end of a stubbled cane.
Unlike his uncontrolled excitement at the other shops, Moni was perfectly still and utterly silent in front of the shoe stall. The sockets of his eyes stretched to the maxim as he calmly scanned the rows of shiny footwear from left to right and then again from right to left. Godadhor stood behind his young master with heaps of toys and unnecessary things pouring out from two massive jute bags. He did not say a word, only panted slowly to catch his breath, for he knew that shoes were the one thing his teenage lord was dead serious and absolutely crazy about. It was best not to disturb him.
If one had to put a financial toll on Young Moni’s collection of shoes back at home, it would perhaps be sufficient to decently feed a middle-class family of four for at least five years or more. In his possession, there were horn tipped Nagras by the craftsmen of Agra, beaded moccasins from the Native American Shoshone Tribe in Wyoming, strapped Roman Sandals from the streets of Italy, knee-high boots from Texas, leather Derbies from the master shoemakers in England. He even had wooden Khoroms made by the monks of the forbidden city of Lhasa, pairs of clogs from Holland, wooden Geta sandals from Japan, and so many more. Back at the Ray Mansion, a massive hall room with rows of shelves housed the young master’s collection of shoes.
“Hey kid, what is your name? Who made these shoes that you sell,” asked Moni to the young peddler? “Me saheb, Mushtafa, I made these shoes with wood, leather, and metal all by myself,” replied the humble teenager. “No way, a bag of skin and bones like you made these beauties. I don’t believe you,” sneered the arrogant boy back at the frail shoemaker.
“Well, I am Monikanchon Ray, the richest buyer you will find in this fair. Give me the most treasured pair of shoes that you have,” demanded the zamindar’s son with an air of arrogance and pride. “I am sorry saheb, the particular pair of shoes that you ask for is too costly for you to pay its price,” softly replied the meek shoemaker after deeply thinking for a while.
“How dare you say that – you rascal. Do you know how many pairs of shoes I have? I have a different shoe for everything I do. When I am doing nothing, I still change a pair every hour. I have a pair from nearly every country, from the most renowned shoemakers. My father has spent thousands of rupees to get me the best of shoes from the farthest corners of the world. How dare you claim to have a shoe, that I can’t pay the price for,” thundered the zamindar’s spoilt son, red and fuming with anger, stomping his foot on cobble.
“Sorry, my lord, please don’t get angry. My most treasured shoe, which I crafted with my own hand for myself, is just priceless. You might be the richest person here, but you just can’t pay the price required to wear it. You simply can’t afford to pay it,” softly replied Mushtafa. “How much; you only name the price, and I will get it for you. Show me the shoe.” angrily puffed the wealthy teenager.
“Okay saheb, but you have to wait for a few more hours till I pack up my stall for the day,” spoke up the poor shoemaker kindling a ray of hope in the arrogant teenager’s heart.
The next few hours were really painful for Monikanchon. The fat kid huffed and puffed and simmered in his sweat on that very chilly evening. Though the weather was cold, all the anxiety and excitement made him boil up from inside. Finally, the moment came, and Moni was all ready to prove the power of his father’s wealth and go home with a pair of shoes that perhaps would be the most priceless he ever possessed.
“Where is the Goddam shoe? Show it to me Mushtafa,” blurted the spoilt teenager, unable to control his excitement. The frail young boy then spread a tarpaulin sheet on top of the shoes on display. He did it while still seated in the middle. He then chucked a few stones and bricks at various spots on the cover, so that it may not blow away. By this time, the fair had mulled down to just a few late buyers. Most of the hawkers had packed and tied their goods for the night and were retreating to the warm beddings inside their flimsy makeshift tents.
Mustafa gently lifted the shawl covering his legs, revealing the pair of his priceless shoes kept at one corner under the blanket. “Give me a few minutes saheb, it takes a little time for me to wear them,” said Mushtafa with a gentle smile on his face while he put on his most treasured pair of footwear.
Tears slowly welled up in the eyes and gently rolled down the pompous teenager’s chubby face. He realised that he could never pay the price required to wear the shoes that Mushtafa had made for himself. It was not only the beauty but the ingenuity and utility of the footwear that made all the difference. The pretentious son of the wealthy merchant felt all his arrogance leave him at that very instance. He realised that all the exorbitant and exotic shoes that were priceless to a rich man’s son like him, to someone like Mushtafa were worthless.
A few days after the Charak Puja on Beadon Street in the year of our Lord 1920, poor teenagers in different parts of the city were seen wearing the strangest and costliest pairs of shoes from all over the world. They said that a rich man’s benevolent son had donated it to them.
Back in the night on the last day of Charak Puja in the year 1920, the chesty son of the wealthy zamindar vowed never to buy a shoe again, till the one on his feet were worn out or became unwearable. That day the spoilt son learnt a lesson on the value of things, that not all prices could be paid with cash and coin. He learnt, how something priceless to a person could be worthless to someone else.
That night while the zamindar’s son smiled with newfound wisdom going to sleep on his engraved rosewood bed, back on the cobbled Beadon street, the poor shoemaker also beamed with happiness as he tightly hugged his priceless footwear close to his chest. The depression below his knees on the blanket covering his body was proof that he had paid the price to wear this shoe, that no one could afford to willingly pay.
Copyright © 2022 TRISHIKH DASGUPTA
This work of fiction, written by Trishikh Dasgupta is the author’s sole intellectual property. Some characters, incidents, places, and facts may be real while some fictitious. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send an email to the author at trishikh@gmail.com or get in touch with Trishikh on the CONTACT page of this website.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Trishikh Dasgupta
Adventurer, philosopher, writer, painter, photographer, craftsman, innovator, or just a momentary speck in the universe flickering to leave behind a footprint on the sands of time... READ MORE
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 
Reblogged this on Ned Hamson's Second Line View of the News.
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Thank you so much Ned, for promoting this very emotionally reviving story of mine. Much appreciate your constant support.
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Una storia davvero affascinante che ho letto con grande interesse è per questo ti ringrazio.
Buona giornata 🌻
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Thank you so much. So glad that you find my story fascinating and that it was able to captivate your interest. Do visit again and read some of my other stories as well. I am sure you would love many of them.
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I certainly will!
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I look forward to you enjoying my stories.
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Wow! Amazing story, with a message of being compassion, responsability, love, awesome. Thanks for share Trishikh.
Have a wonderful time!
Elvira
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Thank you Elvira for your beautiful comment. So glad that you liked my story, and especially the message of compassion in it. Wishing you great times ahead too. Have a lovely weekend.
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Thank you Trishikh for your kindness and support.
Have a lovely weekend!
Wishing you the best.
Elvira
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Always a pleasure Elvira, always a pleasure…
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Thank you Trishikh.
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You are most welcome, Elvira.
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Have a wonderful time, Trishikh.
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Wow such a well written story
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Thank you so much. It gives me great joy when someone likes one of my stories.
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Excellent article! 👌🏻 ❤
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Thank you so much Filipa for appreciating.
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Materialistic goods may be purchased, but emotion, passion, and commitment have no price.
Monikanchan must have learned that the only things worth possessing are compassion and responsibility.
A very beautiful & inspiring tale!
Have a good day ahead.
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Dear Tanishq, reading you comment at the start of the day gives me immense joy. You are right about us “not being able to buy emotion, passion, and commitment with money.” It takes more than materialistic wealth to aquire such things. I think our positive outlook towards life and compassion for others can certainly help us achieve these.
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Ah, Trishikh, you’ve done it again. The story was rich with the details of the feckless teenager racing around and gorging himself—I could envision the sights, sounds, and smells. And then came the suspense, followed by the end of the morality tale. If only real-life spoiled kids could be so quickly moved by encounters with less fortunate souls!
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Dear Annie, as always your kind words of appreciation gives me great joy and a sence of achievement. I am so happy that you like the details, imagery, flow, and build up of the story. Somehow the plot just worked out. Well, I know it’s difficult to change a person’s nature through a single incident, however, I also believe that such in possible though – like something, an experience, which we do not forget throughout our lives and motivated us much to evolve.
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Trishikh, you are truly talented. This read was wonderful. Full of compassion and wisdom
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Thank you so much. You are too kind with your words of appreciation. So happy that you liked my story, the compassion and wisdom in it too.
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It is a moving story of redemption but we must remember that it is fiction.
The power of your talented writing, Trishikh, makes us believe that it is possible to change a person’s vile character on the flip of a coin.
It might have been possible on the Road to Damascus but otherwise …
I love the details of the Fair that are exotic, especially the worshiper of the god Shiva with the hooks in his back.
Excellent work, Trishikh, as always.
I left a note for you, Trishikh, in your email.
Joanna
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Dear Joanna, as always your thoughtful and sincere comment always not only brings me great joy, but also teaches me a lot about my own story. I like to believe in miracles, the power of the moment, though perhaps not always possible, but sometime, somewhere, such things might happen. So happy that I was able to make that feeling convincing enough in the story.
The Charak Puja is famous for male devotees to Lord Shiva swinging from a long central pole with hooks thrusted on their backs. It was a sight I distinctly remember from my visit to the fair on Beadon Street when I wa very young.
I will check my email for your note.
Take care and have a great weekend.
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You are more than welcome.
I will as it is my birthday today.
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Wow, that is so nice to hear. Many many many happy returns of the day. May God always bless you with strength and courage to do good to others in life.
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Thank you so much!
Joanna
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Thank you so much for promoting this story of mine. Always appreciate your support.
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Good story telling, with the lovely message of sincerity and compassion.
Thank you for sharing.
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Compassion is a big thing with me. I think it is the most important value to have. It is something which has the power to bring out the best in us. Thank you so much Chitrangada.
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Good story telling, with lovely message of compassion and sincerity.
Thank you for sharing.
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Thank you so much Chitrangada. Always a pleasure to receive your appreciation. Treasure every word of it.
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The blanket spread over the knees reminded me that the boy who made the shoes would not have feet, maybe an accident or congenitally without feet, so shoes are so precious. The second option, labor is a very sacred value, as if the spoiled child was embarrassed when he saw how the shoes were made. That part seems a bit suspenseful, or whatever the reader perceives it. Hello.
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You are very right. The blanket covering the leg, was a little breadcrumb that I left for the readers to guess about the legs. Yes the rich kid was embarrassed to realise that the poor boy had no legs atall, and to such a person, what good is any other shoe. Thank you so much for taking the time, reading, liking, and commenting on this little story of mine. I treasure and enjoy your feedback.
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A very well written story with a perfect ending and a good lesson!
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So glad that you liked this story Patrick. I treasure your constant encouragement.
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The story of life changing lesson turning Monikanchon from an arrogant to a compassionate boy is superb. His father must also have learnt something from this lesson. Thank you, Trishikh for publishing one more inspiring story 👍
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Always a pleasure KK. I have come to look forward to your comments with great anticipation. I do not want to develop this dependency, but must confess, that I am addicted it it.
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Great! So kind of you, Trishikh! You’re welcome, always!
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I think this impressive story, Trishikh, of a hundred years ago is absolutely modern, because we seem to consider money to buy everything to be the most important thing! Many thanks:)
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You are very right Martina, though the story is set up a hundred years ago it will always be relevant. Certainly money can’t buy everything, unfortunately all of us know this, but are not willing to believe it, and rely too much on material wealth, which is important but not everything.
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I enjoy these tales immensely. Thank you.
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My pleasure Michael. Nothing’s makes my day better than someone enjoying one of my stories.
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Such a sweet story! I love stories of redemption, learning, and compassion. Your understanding of history and place is woven so wonderfully into your stories.
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Very similar to you, I too love stories of redemption, lessons, and benevolence. I have always loved history and love to infuse it in my stories. So happy that you liked this little tale of mine. Thank you so much.
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An excellent story as always.
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Thank you si much Arpita. You are one of my oldest fans, who has been supportive of my writing from the very first story that I wrote on this blog. Always treasure your feedback.
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after the introduction I see that it will be interesting, but I will read later and write my feelings, greetings and thank you for your visit
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You are most welcome. Please do come back whenever you feel like. I am sure you would like this short story.
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Certainly, you will come back more than once, but you have never been mentally before, because the stories provide strong impressions🤣😂
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Thank you so much. 🙂
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Impressive how you, again and again, manage to enthral your readers, keeping up the suspense right to the end and surprising us with unexpected outcomes.
I also believe, to be humiliated in our younger years by someone who is less fortunate than ourselves (no feet in this instance), but is accepting his or her fate graciously can have a decisive influence on our consciousness, especially when we grow up to expect unlimited material gratification and a healthy body.
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First of all I must thank you for your constant appreciation for my stories. Your in-depth analysis of my stories even teaches me new things about my own stories. I absolutely agree with you about decisive influence on our consciousness when we are young. We all need to have this kind of influence when we are young.
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A wonderful story again. How I would love to see a fair like that! And most wonderful to see that nobody is outside the reach of insight and improvement.
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I am sure that you or for that matter many of us would love to visit such a fair, however the olden days charm has vanished from these fairs. They too have evolved with time, but still enjoyable. I absolutely agree with you, ” nobody is outside the reach of insight and improvement.”
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soul-touching….. thank you for nurturing your reader’s mind like me.
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It is my greatest pleasure to do so. I too am enlightened while writing these stories. Thank you so much for your lovely and encouraging comment.
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What a wonderful story Trishikh, thank you so very much for sharing.
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My pleasure to have been able to write and share this story Katie. Must thank you for taking the time to and appreciate.
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Hi Trishikh,
In every story, you introduce a new feature of your personality.
Here I can better understand you. There is a wide universe in you. The theme is composed of Bengali culture and humanity.
The wealthiest things on the planet are useless if they do not come into use? You collect more physical things, you need more space to store.
Sharing knowledge—
expands your thinking limits,
deepens the understanding,
drives conversations,
provides new ideas to experiment and
everything continues as a cycle.
It’s a simple and powerful story. The description of the fair was fascinating. I appreciate your will and research skills. 😁👍
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Dear Lokesh, I have come to see you grow over the past two years in your wisdom. It is very apparent in your reactions to not only my stories but to the posts of other bloggers as well. Your content of various social media platform like FB and Twitter reflects this too. It makes me really proud, that I had a bit of influence in your development curve, ofcourse you have done all the hard work. I wish you best in life, and am very confident that you would shine much more brighter as a good human being and also accomplish meaningful things in life.
Your analysis about is very correct. I live to share knowledge, it gives me the greatest high. Thank you always for treasuring my stories and friendship, as I treasure yours.
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Knowledge sharing empower us.
You’re an inspiration. And always be.💙
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A lovely story, Trishikh!
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Thank you so much ola. It means a lot coming from a voracious reader like you.
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That’s a wonderful story! I liked it very much.
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Thank you so much Dawn. Always look forward to your appreciation. So happy that you liked the story.
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I had a similar befuddled reaction to a leg-less beggar in New Delhi on our 1st India trip. With all my materialistic comfort as an American, this humble beggar was offering me an invitation to show more compassion for the disadvantaged of mankind.
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Unfortunately, we in India, get to see sights all the time, but are seldom moved to compassion. Then there is organised begging too, which dissuades many to give alms to such unfortunate individuals. It is a sad reality, however we should not be discouraged to do something or atleast be compassionate in our hearts. Thank you so much for reading, liking, and commenting on my story. I am grateful to you for your appreciation and benevolent heart.
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yes there are organized begging scams going on in my country. Beggars pop out of. A Limo to begin their day.
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It is really a sad thing, when children and adults and kidnapped and mutilated by organised gangs to beg on the streets as beggars. Whatever these beggars earn during the day, is taken away by their overlords, who just gives them some food and bare things to just live.
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Each story of yours has a distinct character Trisikh… Superb on expression, superb on the ” DNA” of story telling.
Loved this one too…. Sharing it forward. Keep penning these brilliant pieces!!
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Thank you so much ma’am for your beautiful words of appreciation. I treasure them. They motivate me much. So glad that you share my stories with other. It is one of the things that any writer wants the most, for his stories to be read by more.
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“He looked down at her foot and saw how the blood was running out of her shoe… ‘This also is not the right one,” said he, ‘have you no other daughter.’ ‘No,’ said the man, ‘there is still a little stunted kitchen-wench which my late wife left behind her, but she cannot possibly be the bride.’ The king’s son said he was to send her up to him, but the mother answered, oh, no, she is much too dirty, she cannot show herself. But he absolutely insisted on it, and Cinderella had to be called.” (The Brothers Grimm).
Beautiful story, Trishikh 🙂
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A golden classic, that has influenced our morals and values for so long, and will influence generations for years to come. Thank you for sharing this, good old friend.
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Beautiful Narrative
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Thank you so much Ananda. I always treasure appreciation from friends. It gives me great encouragement to continue my short story writing efforts.
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Wow stories in posts. loved the idea.
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Thank you so much Sadhna. Always a pleasure to start the day with a compliment.
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Haben Sie schon einmal darüber nachgedacht, ein Drehbuch für eine Serie zu schreiben? Mir scheint, Sie würden in dieser Angelegenheit einen tollen Job machen, und die Serie wäre eine Sensation, und im Übrigen würden wir uns statt dieses türkischen Unsinns für die naiven, ich grüße großartige Geschichte einige anständige Serien ansehen
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Well, I have never tried writing a screenplay. Could give it a try though someday though. Right now my focus, passion, and ikigai is to write and promote short stories. Thank you so much for your lovely comment and kind words of appreciation and encouragement. I treasure every bit of it.
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it is very easy, but these are not only words of appreciation, it is a statement of fact, it is worth trying. All the writers started like that, knocked on all the doors until they were opened, but when you don’t knock, no one knows you want to come in … I wish you a quick start
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Thank you so much. I take your encouragement. Hopefully some day, this too would happen…
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keep it up!👍
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Je passe te dire Bonjour TRSHIKH
Il paraît que les personnes les plus chers à notre cœur sont celles à qui nous pensons à notre réveil
Tu es l’une de ces personnes car tu es ma meilleure amie ou ami
Belle journée profite au maximum
Bise avec toute mon amitié
Bernard
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Thank you Bernard. I too treasure our friendship.
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A wonderful and inspiring story! Your collection of stories would be perfect reading for students.
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I too hope and pray that some day more children would get to read at least some of my stories in their textbooks. Thank you for the lovely comment. Always treasure application.
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The story is very touchy. As I said earlier also that you have an extraordinary talent to present a text or a story. Readers will not move without completing the text.
You have a beautiful mind too.
That is why your posts are always beautiful.
I can understand the expression in your posts.
I have gone through a few only.
All are excellent.
Thank you so much for sharing these kind posts. Regards 😌👍😊🙏
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Dear Arun, you are very kind with your appreciation for my stories. I treasure every bit of it. I do my best to leave behind some stories, which everyone would be able to read years after O am gone. This is my little gift to humanity. Thank you so much for being a part of this.
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You are absolutely right. I will be happy to read more.
Take care always. Live long healthy wealthy and peaceful life.
Let us live and let us see a world where we can find peace everywhere.
Atleast let us make our surroundings with a peaceful environment 🌎
Your stories will work. Stories with morals will definitely strike the mind of the readers. Together we can change the environment. Yes👍😊🙏
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Yes Arun, you are absolutely right, when you say together’ we can achieve the unimaginable.
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I believe that. 💯 Percent possible. Today or tomorrow.
It is autonomous system. 🔁 War and peace. Peace will be established. I will share one post in this regard. May be soon.
Thank you so much.
Take care always 😊
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I look forward to reading your thoughts.
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Trishikh ji Namaskar. I am inspired. Let me give a brief on my studies on the field of Global peace and harmony. We all know the Bengali song:
হৃদয় আছে যার, “সেই তো ভালোবাসে
প্রতিটি মানুষেরই জীবনে প্রেম আসে..”
There is one Institute known as ” HeartMath Institute in USA. Their mission is to help people bring their physical, mental, and emotional systems into a balanced alignment with heart’s intuitive guidance. Aim is to awaken the heart of humanity.
The science behind it is that: Heart communicates with the Brain and Body in 4 ways.
Neurological Communication = Nervous system.
Biochemical communication = Hormones.
Biophysical communication = pulse wave.
Energetic communication = Electromagnetic fields.
There is a new study in the new topic: Neuroradiology [ combined research by neurophysiologists and neuroanatomists]. New findings in this field is that heart has a complex neural network ~ The Brain on the Heart, commonly known as The heart-brain.
Normally, we know that our intelligence works in the Brain [ Brain’s nervous system]. But this new field says that heart has it’s own intrinsic nervous system.
The Funda is to have heart brain coherence in individual level at first. This means one should love himself or herself. After that let there be broadcast of love by those individuals from all areas of this planet earth. Thereby, the global energetic field will work more in the positive direction. Scientific studies has proved this. Love is the core heart frequency that unifies and lifts people’s perceptions to have unity whole over the world. Very interesting topic. Worldwide research is going on and data collection and compilation is being done through satellites.
To understand all these, I have completed various courses like Quantum physics, Special theory of relativity [basic and advanced], Electro magnetism etc and a course on Neuroscience from IISC, Bangalore. Besides these, I have gone through various research papers, books to have comprehensive knowledge to relate our ancient philosophy-Vedanta. I am now publishing essence of Upanishads only. After that I will start publishing notes on quantum biology and quantum physics.
I need help from people. will seek your help if needed.
Thank you so much. Regards.😊🙏🙏
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This is such an interesting topic that you have enlightened me about. I am honoured that you think my inputs would be helpful to you. My best of luck to your efforts. Let’s make the world a better place together.
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Thank you so much for your comments 😌
Indeed your inputs will be helpful for all of us. The concept is nothing but to have Universal peace. Before that as an individual, I must have peace at first, then in family, then in society, then in state and beyond.
So all of us will contribute.
Thank you so much for your support and encouragement 😊
Have a blissful time ahead 🙏😊
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My best wishes and support are always with you Arun. You are right, of one can attain inner peace, the world around becomes much easier and amicable coexistence happens.
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Thank you so much Trishikh ji 😊
Will be in touch 🙏😊
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Molto molto interessante non ostante la traduzione non perfetta si entra facilmente nel centro del racconto.
Sherazade
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Dear Sherazade, I am so indebted to you for taking the time to translate and read my story. I appreciate your effort from the bottom of my heart.
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Oh don’t say that! it was my pleasure 🌻
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The pleasure is equally mine. 🙂
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Such a well written profound story! A piece of writing filled with emotion,compassion and wisdom!
Loved it 😌
Materialistic items are purchasable.. but the emotion and commitment you highlighted here, has no value to be purchased against 😌
Thanks for this beautiful piece sir!
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Dear Ahiri, thank you so much for liking and appreciating the story. So glad that you liked the moral message in the story. You are absolutely right, there are something’s that money simply can’t buy.
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Thankyou for letting us read such amazing writings😌!
Always love reading your works
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The pleasure is equally mine Ahiri. Happy writing to you too.
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Ignorance of the kid asking his caretaker to leave his hand reason he may slow down him.
Love how you marry two words and here its gape and awe
Not stating someone old just calling them Septuagenarian
Shoes from all over the world as far as Wyoming, Texas, and Italy speak of the richness and love for shoes.
And lastly, the transformation to compassion is speechless.
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Your thoughtful and we’ll penned analysis of my story brings tears of joy in my eyes. Thank you good young friend for your amazing comment.
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It just takes a spark to eventually cause a blaze… the removal of the poor boy’s blanket was the spark that resulted in the unexpected blaze in the heart of the rich boy…. whether the fire will remain, or go out is left to the imagination of the reader…
I must admit you got me at the end… I was expecting the most dilapidated pair of shoes possible… since he needed to sell as many shoes as possible, and would only have a new pair, when the one he was wearing fell off his feet…
🇯🇲🏖️
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You are absolutely right, when you say “It just takes a spark to eventually cause a blaze…” I think all of us needs these little sparks, which have the power to make us better humans. Am so glad to have been able to weave an unexpected ending of the story for you. I must thank you for your lovely comment. Really treasure it.
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Una lezione importante appresa e una storia meravigliosa dalla quale si può solo imparare!
Complimenti davvero!
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Many thanks Valy for liking this story. Glad that you found an important lesson in this little tale of mine. Your words of appreciation makes my day.
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Perdonami, sono un po’ a digiuno di Inglese. Sono molto contenta che tu abbia apprezzato le mie parole, la tua storia è meravigliosa e ricca di significato.
Sarebbe meraviglioso poter arrivare alle menti di chi, anziché apprezzare la pace, vuole a tutti i costi la guerra.
Grazie e buona giornata Trishikh.
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The pleasure in all mine Valy. The human mind is many a times torn between conflicting thoughts of good and evil. We just need to harness the good in us in order to have a more meaningful existence. A great day to you too.
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Thank you very much Trishjkh
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You are most welcome Valy.
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I’m sorry, the precedent message incomplete.
Thank you very much Trishikh, have a nice day! 🌻
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A great day to you too Valy.
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See you soon Trishikh.
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I look forward to it Valy. A great day to you too.
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Thank you very much Trishikh, a great day to you.
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This was a well written story
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Dear Lebogang, it gives me great joy to receive your appreciation. So happy that you liked the story.
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Most welcome
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Thank you so much for reblogging my story in your blog.
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Beautiful as always Trishikh.
I’ve missed your wonderful stories for a while now, but I’m certainly going to catch up on them tonight.
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Thank you so much Emmanuel, your beautiful words of appreciation always provide me much encouragement. So happy that you liked this story of mine.
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Thanks for such a spread.. If only the hoi polloi would be more compassionate then the world would be a better place to live in
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You are absolutely right. I think all of us are born with compassion, however, as we grow, some of us tend to forget to nurture it.
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Thanks for such a spread.. If only the hoi polloi would be more compassionate then the world would be a better place to live in
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The multitude always has a tendency to follow the tends of the time. They can be easily swayed. That is what we see everywhere all the time. Great to have your comment. It gives me great joy to read your thoughts. Have a great day.
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Description of Charak Mela brought back childhood memories. In the old Ponjikas there used to be a picture of the fair. I used to spend hours looking at it.
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Oh yes you are right. I too remember the picture in the Ponjika, now that you mentioned it. These fairs used to be so much fun and entertainment. Now, they have lost their old day charm, and is slowly heading towards extinction.
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You a great Writer
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Glad that you liked the story Titus. Nothing makes my day better than a bit of appreciation.
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Great story and well written.
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Thank you so much. Yes, this story is very close to my heart. I like it when the content triggers the emotions.
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UN SALUTO DALL’ ITALIA
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Thank you.
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😉
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SALUTI
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Greetings of the day to you too dear friend.
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GRAZIE MILLE, CONTRACCAMBIATO
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