Was it worth it ? (Many jokes to be added)!

[indianbaba]

The following is the story of an india SE ..... but i think it fits best on most of us ... read it and answer .... "Is this all worth it????"


Hi!

ONE BEDROOM FLAT... AN INDIAN SOFTWARE ENGINEER'S LIFE... - A Bitter Reality

As the dream of most parents I had acquired a degree in Software Engineer and joined a company based in USA, the land of braves and
opportunity. When I arrived in the USA, it was as if a dream had come true.

Here at last I was in the place where I want to be. I decided I would be staying in this country for about Five years in which time I would
have earned enough money to settle down in India.

My father was a government employee and after his retirement, the only asset he could acquire was a decent one bedroom flat.

I wanted to do some thing more than him. I started feeling homesick and lonely as the time passed. I used to call home and speak to my
parents every week using cheap international phone cards. Two years passed, two years of Burgers at McDonald's and pizzas and discos and 2
years watching the foreign exchange rate getting happy whenever the Rupee value went down.

Finally I decided to get married. Told my parents that I have only 10 days of holidays and everything must be done within these 10 days. I
got my ticket booked in the cheapest flight. Was jubilant and was actually enjoying hopping for gifts for all my friends back home. If I
miss anyone then there will be talks. After reaching home I spent home one week going through all the photographs of girls and as the time
was getting shorter I was forced to select one candidate.

In-laws told me,to my surprise, that I would have to get married in 2-3 days, as I will not get anymore holidays. After the marriage, it
was time to return to USA, after giving some money to my parents and telling the neighbors to look after them, we returned to USA.

My wife enjoyed this country for about two months and then she started feeling lonely. The frequency of calling India increased to twice in a
week sometimes 3 times a week. Our savings started diminishing. After two more years we started to have kids. Two lovely kids, a boy and a
girl, were gifted to us by the almighty. Every time I spoke to my parents, they asked me to come to India so that they can see their
grand-children.

Every year I decide to go to India. But part work part monetary conditions prevented it. Years went by and visiting India was a
distant dream. Then suddenly one day I got a message that my parents were seriously sick. I tried but I couldn't get any holidays and thus
could not go to India. The next message I got was my parents had passed away and as there was no one to do the last rights the society
members had done whatever they could. I was depressed. My parents had passed away without seeing their grand children.

After couple more years passed away, much to my children's dislike and my wife's joy we returned to India to settle down. I started to look
for a suitable property, but to my dismay my savings were short and the property prices had gone up during all these years. I had to
return to the USA.

My wife refused to come back with me and my children refused to stay in India. My 2 children and I returned to USA after promising my wife
I would be back for good after two years.

Time passed by, my daughter decided to get married to an American and my son was happy living in USA. I decided that had enough and wound-up every thing and returned to India. I had just enough money to buy a decent 02 bedroom flat in a well-developed locality.

Now I am 60 years old and the only time I go out of the flat is for the routine visit to the nearby temple. My faithful wife has also left
me and gone to the holy abode.

Sometimes I wondered was it worth all this? My father, even after staying in India, had a house to his name and I too have the same
nothing more.

I lost my parents and children for just ONE EXTRA BEDROOM.

Looking out from the window I see a lot of children dancing. This damned cable TV has spoiled our new generation and these children are
losing their values and culture because of it. I get occasional cards from my children asking I am alright. Well at least they remember me.

Now perhaps after I die it will be the neighbors again who will be performing my last rights, God Bless them. But the question still
remains 'was all this worth it?'

I am still searching for an answer................!!!!

--- By an Indian SE who was in US.

[indianbaba]

There was a millionaire who was bothered by severe eye pain. He consulted so many physicians and was getting his treatment done. But in vain. He did not stop consulting a galaxy of medical experts, he consumed heavy loads of drugs and underwent hundreds of injections. But the ache persisted with great vigour than before.
At last a monk who has supposed to be an expert in treating such patients was called for by the millionaire. The monk understood his problem and said that for sometime he should concentrate only on green colours and not to fall his eyes on any other colours.

The millionaire got together a group of painters and purchased barrels of green colour and directed that every object his eye was likely to fall to be painted in green colour just as the monk had directed. when the monk came to visit him after few days, the millionaire's servants ran with buckets of green paints and poured on him since he was in red dress, lest their master not see any other colour and his eye ache would come back.

Hearing this the monk laughed and said "If only you had purchased a pair of green spectacles, worth just a few rupees, you could have saved these walls and trees and pots and all other articles and also could have saved a large share of his fortune. You cannot paint the world green.

Change your vision and the world will appear accordingly.

[indianbaba]

This is a memorable experience shared by a doctor. It was a busy morning, approximately 8:30 am, when an elderly gentleman in his 80's arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb..
He stated that he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am. I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound.On exam it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.While taking care of his wound, we began to engage in conversation I asked him if he had a doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry.The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I then inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim ofAlzheimer Disease. As we talked, and I finished dressing his wound, I asked if she would be worried if he was a bit late.He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now. I was surprised, and asked him "And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?"
He smiled as he patted my hand and said." She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is." I had to hold back tears as he left, and thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life." True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.
With all the jokes and fun that are in e-mails, sometimes there are some that come along that have an important message, and this is one of those kinds.
Just had to share it with you all.
"The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything;
they just make the best of everything that comes along their way."

[indianbaba]

During my second month of medical school, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until I read the last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?" Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade. "Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers you will meet many people. All are
significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say 'Hello'."

I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name.

[indianbaba]

One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry and exhausted. His mother was very ill and his father had left them when he was very young. So it was up to him to support the family and earn enough money for tuition.



He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door. Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water.



She thought he looked hungry so she brought him a large glass of milk and some cookies. He drank it slowly, and then asked, "How much do I owe you?"





"You don't owe me anything," she replied. "Mother has taught us never to accept pay for a kindness."



He said..... "Then I thank you from my heart." As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but his faith in God and man was strong also. He had been ready to give up and quit.



Year's later that young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes. Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the hospital to her room.




Dressed in his doctor's gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he gave special attention to the case.




After a long struggle, the battle was won. Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval.


He looked at it, then wrote something on the edge and the bill was sent to her room. She feared to open it, for she was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all. Finally she looked, and something caught her attention on the side of the bill.


She read these words.....

"Paid in full with one glass of milk and some cookies"

(Signed)

Dr. Howard Kelly.


Tears of joy flooded her eyes as her happy heart prayed:

"Thank You, God, that Your love has spread abroad through human hearts and hands."

Did this story touch your heart?

[indianbaba]

WRONG NUMBER

It was the day of my son's XII results and I was so
tensed. I sat beside him while he logged on the
website with his registration no. "Ma", he screamed in
excitement," I scored 1191, with centum in 4 subjects.
I cant believe it. " I kinda became numb in my
excitement. My eyes became wet. I kissed him on his
forehead and smiled.

Soon we realized that he stood first in the state. Oh,
my joy knew no bounds when Reporters and media persons
soon swamped my house for interviews and photos. I was
so honored to join him in the snaps.

I wanted to call my "wrong-number-friend to tell him
the news......I was so excited. He was someone whom I
have known for more than 20 years.

I still do not remember when we became friends, but
certainly cannot forget the first day he called me
when I blasted him for giving me so many wrong
calls.....after that he had called up a week later
asking apology, for he had now got the right no of his
friend whom he wanted to talk to .We spoke for an hour
that day...even without knowing each other's names.
Though he kept pestering me to reveal my name I never
did and so he kept a name...Sweety. I used to get so
shy whenever he called me 'Sweety'. I was doing first
year of BSc. Maths then, and he was a Computer
Engineering student.


From then he used to call me very often . We almost
discussed everything ..


By the final year of my college, we probably we were
in love, but I had been cautious. I was in a dilemma
whether to tell him. But what if he was of a different
religion? Do I have the courage to talk to my parents
about it? ........all these questions ran through my
mind.


I decided I'll not talk to him thereafter. When he
called next time I lied to him I that I was going to
Delhi for my post graduation. He gave me his office
number and asked me to ring him up once I reach there.
I never called .......

A couple of months later my marriage got fixed with a
guy of my parent's choice. I was not happy but I did
not complain; rather accepted it as an obedient
daughter. At times I felt I missed my wrong- number-
friend.......

My hubby was a moody person; I have hardly spent any
good time with him- but he was genuine indeed and
never bothered my personal space. After 2 years we had
a boy...Yet,I was not very happy with my married
life...One day I happened to browse through my diary
and found I still had my old friend's office phone no
that he had given me. I dialed it and spoke with him.
He said he was married and got a kid too. I was happy
for him though in the bottom of the heart I felt bad
that I could not marry him.

From then I used to occasionally call him on that
number. I never gave him mine as I felt that would put
me in trouble... And till today I almost shared
everything with him including my relationship with my
hubby.....today I was so happy and I wanted to call
him.


Just then I got a call. "Your husband met with an
accident and died on the spot"


I banged the phone down. I broke. I did not call my
friend.....I somehow started feeling guilty. I have
never tried to talk to him properly when he was alive
or moved close with him.... I felt I had been a bad
wife........


A couple of years passed and one day my son brought
home a Bengali girl and said they wanted to get
married. I got them married as I did not want my son
to go through what I did.


I decided to give my son his father's room and started
clearing it. There was a phone book. I gently opened
it to find, " Wrong no Sweety -26579785"


God always puts the right numbers together. Its we who
interpret it wrong!!!

[indianbaba]

This is a true story which happened in the States.

A man came out of his home to admire his new truck.

To his puzzlement, his three-year-old son was happily hammering dents into the shiny paint of the truck.

The man ran to his son, knocked him away, hammered the little boy's hands into pulp as punishment.

When the father calmed down, he rushed his son to the hospital. Although the doctor tried desperately to save the crushed bones, he finally had to amputate the fingers from both the boy's hands.

When the boy woke up from the surgery & saw his bandaged stubs, he innocently said, " Daddy, I'm sorry about your truck." Then he asked, "but when are my fingers going to grow back?"

The father went home & committed suicide.



Think about this story the next time someone steps on your feet or you wish to take revenge. Think first before you lose your patience with someone you love. Trucks can be repaired. Broken bones & hurt feelings often can't.

Too often we fail to recognise the difference between the person and the performance. We forget that forgiveness is greater than revenge.

People make mistakes. We are allowed to make mistakes. But the actions we take while in a rage will haunt us forever.

Pause and ponder. Think before you act. Be patient. Forgive & forget. Love one and all.

If you judge people, you have no time to love them. -- Mother Teresa

[indianbaba]

One day a young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley.

A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect.

There was not a mark or a flaw in it.

Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen.

The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.

Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said, "Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine."

The crowd and the young man looked at the old man's heart. It was beating strongly ... but full of scars. It had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in ... but they didn't fit quite right and there were several jagged edges.

In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.

The people starred ... how could he say his heart is more beautiful, they thought?

The young man looked at the old man's heart and saw its state and laughed. "You must be joking," he said. "Compare your heart with mine ... mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears."

"Yes," said the old man, "Yours is perfect looking ... but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love ..... I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them ... and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart ... but because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared.

Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away ... and the other person hasn't returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges ... giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too ... and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?"

The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands.

The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man's heart.

It fit .... but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.

The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man's heart flowed into his.

They embraced and walked away side by side.

[indianbaba]

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on the end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots was perfectly made and never leaked. The other pot had a crack in it and by the time the water bearer reached his master's house it had leaked much of it's water and was only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his master's house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you." "Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?" "I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the pot apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."

Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots. But if we will allow it, God will use our flaws to grace his table. In God's great economy, nothing goes to waste. Don't be afraid of your flaws. Acknowledge them, and you too can be the cause of beauty. Know that in our weakness we find our strength.

[indianbaba]

Behind the Lines


(War sounds rage. Bombs exploding. People yelling. Gun fire. One sudden loud gunshot and ricochet.)

Soldier 1: "I've been shot! My god, I'm bleeding. Help me!"

Soldier 2: "Joe! It's okay Joe, I'm here for ya." (Yells.) "Medic!"

Soldier 1: "It hurts."

Soldier 2: "Hang on Joey. Medic's on his way." (Yells again.) "Medic!"

(Sound of Medic running toward two soldiers.)

Medic: "Here I am."

Soldier 1: "Doc! Doc! You haveta help me! I'm bleedin' doc. I'm bleedin'!"

Medic: "Hold on, son. Calm down. It's going to be okay. Now let me take a look."

(Battle sounds intrude as Medic examines wound.)

Soldier 2: (Quiet voice so wounded man doesn't hear.) "How is he, doc."

Medic: (Sighs. Also speaks quietly.) "He's not gonna make it."

Soldier 1: (Calling out.) "Doc! Doc!" (Lowers voice as both men come close.) "You gotta help me."

Soldier 2: "He's done all he can."

Soldier 1: "No! No, that's not..." ( Coughs.) "My wife. My boy. My baby boy. Who's gonna take care of them now?"

Soldier 2: "I... I'm sorry Joey!"

Soldier 1: "Do something for me... Please... Just one thing."

Soldier 2: "Anything."

Soldier 1: "Give my wife this." (Rustling as man grabs pendant from his neck.) "This locket. Give it back to her. And... And..." (Coughs heavily again.)

Soldier 2: "Joey!"

Soldier 1: (Gasping for breath, close to death.) "Tell her... Tell her I love her. I love them both..."

Soldier 2: "I will."

Soldier 1: (Coughs again.) "I... always... loved..." (Fades.)

Soldier 2: "Joey?" (Yells.) "Joey!"

Medic: "He's dead. Let go."

Soldier 2: "Poor Joey."

Medic: "At least he died a hero."

Soldier 2: (Ironic.) "Yeah. That'll comfort his son."

Medic: (Serious, missing irony.) "Yes. The boy can grow up proud knowing he died for the Fatherland. That he died serving his Fuhrer."