* * Nathela arrived in Cairo. She saw it as a densely populated city, a maze of streets bustling with life. Men with their long robes and turbans and women with their long dresses and headscarves consumed much of the space; all were hectic pursuing their own business. Itinerant vendors jammed both the narrow andContinue reading “Cairo”
* * After having a rest in the morning, Nathela went for an afternoon stroll. It was then that she saw a crowd full of men and women of any age, circling a storyteller. Nathela missed the beginning of the story but joined the crowd nevertheless. “He is not an ordinary Mufti,” the storyteller saidContinue reading “Mawlana Jalaluddin”
* * * Once, high above a pasture, where a sheep and a lamb were grazing, an eagle was circling and gazing hungrily down upon the lamb. And as he was about to descend and seize his prey, another eagle appeared and hovered above the sheep and her young with the same hungry intent. ThenContinue reading “War and Small Nations”
* * * Every truth finds its undeniable existence only in a writer’s imagination. Imagination, not intelligence, is the governing power of creative writing.
* * Words are tears that have been sculpted with sorrows; and tears are words that need to be shed. We need both tears and words, because without them happiness loses its brilliance and grief is endless.
Hello my friends, I know it’s Monday and the sky is in gloom down here in Canberra. But hey, you deserve to wear a smile in your heart! 🙂 So have a fabulous Monday, everyone! 🙂 * * * Source of Image: Pinterest.com
Once in the city of Becharre there lived a gracious prince who was loved and honoured by all his subjects. But there was one exceedingly poor man who was bitter against the prince and who wagged continually a pestilent tongue in his dispraise. The prince knew this, yet he was patient. But at last heContinue reading “The Three Gifts”
Chinese Bamboo. Paulo Coelho. Success. What connects the dots? Chinese bamboo spends five years as a little sprout. After being planted, watered, fertilized, and nurtured by a farmer for four growing seasons, it grows outwardly no more than one inch. There is nothing tangible that the farmer can show for all their labor. It seemsContinue reading “Chinese Bamboo and Paulo Coelho”
Three days after I was born, as I lay in my silken cradle, gazing with astonished dismay on the new world round about me, my mother spoke to the wet-nurse, saying, “How does my child?” And the wet-nurse answered, “He does well, Madame, I have fed him three times, and never before have I seenContinue reading “The Other Language”