The things that do attain love

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The love of parents for their children is unconditional. There’s no jealousy involve in this relationship and my mother never forgets to mention it. She’s very right in reminding us this message again and again, for we the children often forget it.

The other day, I was reading the poem the things that do attain love which somehow reminds me of a large collection of pictures in my home. There’s this vivid memory from my childhood when my mother would dress us in nice and colorful clothes. Those were the days of photographic film cameras. Mother didn’t want to waste that film. So, she asked us to clap or laugh.

The whole exercise was meant to make the picture memorable and when all the pictures were taken, the film was sent to develop and then the long hours of wait started.

That was the pure and unconditional love and “Henry Howard” explains it in these words

MY friend, the things that do attain

The happy life be these, I find:

The riches left, not got with pain;

The fruitful ground; the quiet mind;

 

The equal friend; no grudge; no strife;

No charge of rule, nor governance;

Without disease, the healthy life;

The household of continuance;

 

The mean diet, no dainty fare;

Wisdom joined with simpleness;

The night discharged of all care,

Where wine the wit may not oppress:

 

The faithful wife, without debate;

Such sleeps as may beguile the night;

Content thyself with thine estate,

Neither wish death, nor fear his might.

Neither wish death nor fear his might: this is the most beautiful message here. Do you feel the same? What other message in the poem do you like?

The picture in my home

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All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost

(J.R.R Tolkien The Fellowship of the Ring)

When my mother asked me to clean the dust from the picture, I realized that it’s been a long time that I had stopped noticing it.

This scenery is hanging on the outside wall of my parents’ room. I’m not sure but I think that it was in 1992 that my mother brought this scenery along with two other pictures.

I remember one was a scenery from some Northern areas of Pakistan and other was a picture of a vase. These past years saw us changing home thrice. The ups and downs of life left its impact on our belongings.

After living a life to their fullest, two of the three pictures got worn out. Today, two new pictures have taken their place but this one still exists in our lives.

As a child my observation of this picture was different. I used to take a refuge in its calmness. In those days I wished to take a look inside a hut. For me there was a magic in the reflection of large trees in the water and the white sky with the tinge of pink color looked beautiful to my eyes.

For a long time, I wished to sketch a picture like this. And, today when I’m a grown up girl, I’m amazed that how could I forget such an innocent desire of my childhood. As a child my heart was pure and my mind was relaxed but now the germs of revenge and hatred have blackened my heart.

Today, I’m not relax but I’m restless. Never ending desires and wishes of my life have left me tired.

I don’t believe in keeping regrets but there is one in my life: I wanted to conquer the world and in order to reach the moon; I forget the simple pleasures in my life.

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Day 2: Quote Challenge

Many thanks to Deb author of the blog onceuponahotflash for nominating me for this challenge.

 

 

A walk to school

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Prompt: How did/do you get to school: bus, walk, drive or bike?

On drawing the curtains of my school memories aside, the details of those dreary winter mornings often become visible when on hearing the mother’s voice we reluctantly left our warm beds. It was cold and mother knew everything and in order to provide us relief; she used to warm our sweaters in front of heater.

Later, halfheartedly we ate breakfast and by the time we were ready to get into our car, the color of sky started to turn blue. The journey to school meant a drive of forty five minutes. That was a tough routine but my father never showed any sign of distress.

I remember there was a bakery on our way to school. I and my sister loved to eat its fresh buns and for a long time they remained our favorite school lunch.

The day we moved into our new house that routine changed.

The new home brought school on a walking distance and we children started to enjoy that new aspect of life.

Never before I had ever witnessed the beauty of sunshine and my experience of walking to school early in the morning took me closer to my environment. I can recall there was a ground in front of our house and instead of taking a walk on street , I and my sister preferred to cross that ground.

In that process my polished shoes often got mud on them. I was so scared of uniform inspection that I started to put a piece of cloth in my bag. So, by the time I reached school ,I found some time to clean the dust from them.

In summer walking back to home was an unforgettable experience. Under the sweltering heat of warm sun, my black leather shoes burned like fire. It was a distance of hardly seven minutes but often it seemed that that distance would never end and only the idea of drinking cold water and sitting in front of room cooler gave us strength and we continued walking towards our home.

In those days it all seemed a burden. The routine was tough and the days seemed hectic but today looking back at that time, I can conclude that in the absence of any harsh realities of practical life and in the presence of innocent school friendships, I swear that was the best time of my life.

(Image courtesy: Google Image)

Attock:a bird’s eye view

Attock formerly known as “Campbellpur” is a small and beautiful city of lovely people. Maybe it’s my natural inclination towards my maternal family but I’ve always felt nostalgic feelings for this city.

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Road covered with Sheesham trees (Pictures near Attock city)

I can recall all those pleasure trips to my late grandmother’s house. In those days, the eight hour long journey usually left us tired and by the end we used to make our mother annoyed by asking repeatedly the same question

“How much time before we reached?”

For me, the very names of river Haro and the light grey Kala chitta mountain range hold a sweet scent of love and care.

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Kala Chitta mountain range
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River Haro

In my memories, my grandma’s house thrives as a warm and cozy place which wholeheartedly embraced the large family of more than thirty people. The veranda was large and in that sunlit place of home, we children remained busy in playing for long hours.

In front of the house there was a market. There were some shops of cobblers and all day long we could hear the hammering sound of their tools but in the evening as soon as the color of the sky turned black, the loud bang of shutters announced the closure of market.

In the small city of Attock, people wake up early in the morning and when the sun is still yawning, the city streets burst into life.

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Beautiful view of city

Attock is a city of largehearted people where residents are tightly knit with each other.The educational institutions in this “home of gunners” are best. This is a land of brave people and I feel proud to be associated with this city.

cadet college attock

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Writing 101: A map as a muse

photo credit: pictures.org.es

A visit to grandma’s house!

The elder siblings were worried about their little sister. They were jumping and they were making noises but the two year old was constantly weeping and the aunt was trying hard to make her calm.

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This is the story of five kids. Their parents were out of city and they were staying at their grandmother’s house for a week.

The aunt tried hard and within days the little kid developed a strong connection with her. She felt satisfaction in her presence and they both started to share a strong bond.

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The kids enjoyed their stay at their grandmother’s house. At the end of the week, the parents arrived to pick their kids. Kids were happy but the grandparents were sad.

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This past week, my nieces and my nephews kept me busy. I found little time to read and write. My apologies for late response. I’ll try to catch up with your posts.

And yes, I’m missing my little niece 🙂

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Sunday is a Fun Day!

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One more week and there would be an end to “Summer Vacations” in Schools. My sister and my niece are both looking excited.

The days are passing quickly and I’m observing a mixture of feelings upon their faces. The mere idea of meeting school friends after a long time has made them thrilled.

And, like kids they are also worried about the fact that they haven’t got any chance to go outside in these vacations. So, this Sunday was a “fun day”.

Today, they enjoyed their time in a garden and I spend my time in taking their pictures. Though, my niece is quite angry with me. She’s of the view that my act of taking picture was an interruption as she wanted more time on swings 🙂

Despite her unwillingness, I succeeded in taking these pictures.

And while, finishing my post I’m thinking about my own school days. School days are precious. Aren’t they?

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Story : The dryness of an autumn season

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The bitterness of the autumn season caused every limb of my body to scream with pain.

People say that life goes on but for me time is a prison. The thoughts of the freshness of my youth revived many lost images. I remember the day when I got admission in Oxford University.My father was happy and with shining eyes he said, “I’m so proud of you.”

But, I never realized the importance of his feelings of love for me.

I moved on in my life. Wife and my kids were all I cared about. In those days, my father used to call me.  He wanted to talk to me, but I was so preoccupied. For, my professional life and my family were all that I cared about.

One foggy night of winter, he passed away quietly. I never got a chance to say goodbye to him. And, today when my hands are withered and my bones are fragile, I’m missing my kids. They are all busy in their lives.

I wanted to tell them that I loved them too much. I wanted to share so many things,but they have got no time for such useless talk.

I’m looking out of the window.The dampness of my eyes has blurred the image and I can feel the salt of my tears.

 

Re-reading these lines and saving the file by the name of “An Excerpt from an unknown diary” Mike turned his laptop off.  

He thought of his daughter who often complaints about the presence of darkness in his stories. Looking at the picture of his father he thought that how could he explain to her that it was his inner darkness which was gnawing at him.

How could he reveal that that excerpt saved in the laptop was from the diary of his late father.

Image courtesy: (google image)

Books: Our best Friends!

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The murmuring sound of rustling of wind whispers in her ear. That intruding voice startled her and while sewing the cloth the needle dropped from her hand.

In the midst of perfect silence in the home, the clinking sound of a needle made everyone jump up from their seats. The cold glances were shared and the deep breath of weariness was exhaled.

Her lips curled into a sheepish grin and she found a refuge in reading.

And, very cautiously she looked up from her book and got amazed to saw her mother reading a magazine. Her sister was immersed in reading Sherlock Holmes and her father dusting off his favorite book from the shelf.

She smiled; at last the “black screen” of TV had given them an excuse to go back to their old habit of reading books.

Image Courtesy: (Google Image)

For the last five days,my internet connection was down. I was not able to read your posts here and I’ll definitely try to catch up with them.

Happy Reading 🙂