Monday, March 25, 2013

Always Be Nice !


Welcome to 81st Monday Musings:



Once upon a time, there lived a farmer who had a little land.

His name was Heera and he was a very kind and good-natured person.

He lived in a hut on his land with his wife and children and earned by selling whatever crops he could produce on his small land.

Heera loved to help others. Whenever someone fell ill or needed something badly, Heera was there to help that person.

If someone died in the village, Heera assisted the family members of the deceased person in whichever way he could.

If anyone fell ill at night, Heera was right beside the village doctor to help him prepare the medicines and tend to the sick.

There seemed to be none who hated this man. He appeared to be loved by one and all.

But there was one person who hated Heera with all his heart.

He was Pinna, a neighbor of Heera, who lived in the land next to him.

A lazy person by nature, Pinna hardly put in as much effort to cultivate his land as Heera did to produce crops in his own.

So when the harvest season arrived every year, Pinna found that he had very few crops to sell.

Heera on the other hand, earned a handsome profit through the selling of his produces.

One year, Pinna could no longer contain his jealousy. Just days before Heera was to reap his harvest,

Pinna set fire to his crops at night.

Heera was asleep at this time and it was only the alertness of one of his other neighbor’s that saved much of his crops from being perished in the deadly flames of the fire that Pinna had lighted.

When the flames were doused, Heera saw which direction the fire had started from. Panna's animosity towards him was unknown to Heera. But he let the matters rest and decided to take action only if he saw Pinna repeating his dastardly act once again.

That year, Heera managed to sell the rest of his crops at a good price but he could not make much profit for a good part of his produces had been burnt.

He had a heavy heart but he did not like to tell anyone about it.

Only days later, Heera was awakened by the sound of lamentations. He went out to find a crowd beside Panna's hut.

He rushed to find that Panna's son had fallen ill. He found that the village doctor was unable to provide a cure to his illness.

Heera knew what he had to do. He untied his own horse and rode it. Then he rushed to the town that was ten miles away and fetched a more experienced doctor who lived there.

This doctor was able to guess the disease correctly and provided an exact cure for it. Within hours, the boy was found to sleep soundly and Heera went with the doctor to take him back to the town.

A day later, Pinna went to Heera's hut and began to weep bitterly. He confessed to his sins but was surprised when Heera told him that he knew about it all.

"You knew that I had set fire to your crops? And still you fetched the doctor for my son?" asked the astonished Pinna.

Heera nodded and said, "I did what I knew was right. Could I do wrong just because you had done so?"

Pinna stood up and embraced Heera. Both men were in tears and so were the others who stood by them.

From that day, Pinna changed himself. Within a year, he could produce much crops in his land through his hard work. When the others asked him how he had changed so much, he only replied,

"It was the goodness and love of Heera that transformed me."



Moral of the story :

Always be nice to your friends. Be nicer to your enemies (sometimes It works J)








Make it a great Week !


Shailesh



Monday, March 11, 2013

Become a lake !

Welcome to 80th Monday Musings:



An aging master grew tired of his apprentice’s complaints.

One morning, he sent him to get some salt. When the apprentice returned, the master told him to mix a handful of salt in a glass of water and then drink it.

"How does it taste?" the master asked.

"Bitter," said the apprentice.

The master chuckled and then asked the young man to take the same handful of salt and put it in the lake.

The two walked in silence to the nearby lake and once the apprentice swirled his handful of salt in the water, the old man said, "Now drink from the lake."

As the water dripped down the young man’s chin, the master asked, "How does it taste?"

"Fresh," remarked the apprentice.

"Do you taste the salt?" asked the master.

"No," said the young man.

At this the master sat beside this serious young man, and explained softly,

The pain of life is pure salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains exactly the same. However, the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the pain in.

So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is to enlarge your sense of things.

Stop being a glass. Become a lake.

Moral of the story :

Always look the things in bigger perspective and a bigger vision will make problem smaller to solve.

A spoon of salt in a glass of water makes the water undrinkable. A spoon of salt in a lake is almost unnoticed ~ Gautama Buddha






Make it a great Week !


Shailesh




Monday, March 4, 2013

If you can dream it, you can do it !


Welcome to 79th Monday Musings:


This is a true story a person and in his own words, I have tried my best to shorten the story.



I was born on August 15, 1900 in a small village, Bhaun in district Jhelum, which now forms a part of Pakistan.

The story of my life has been, in many ways, a dramatic one -- full of difficulties and hardships, in earlier days and later a spectacular rise to the position I now hold.

But this was not achieved without incessant toil and a daily fight against tremendous odds. Yet it was a challenge to prove myself. When I look back to those days, as I sometimes do, in moments of leisure, I am thankful that I was able to accept this challenge and make good.

These reflections also make me feel humble for I realize it was with God's help that I achieved what the world calls 'success.'

My father was a contractor in Peshawar, who died when I was only six months old.  The family consisted of my mother and myself.

My earlier days were spent in the little village of my birth. I began my education at the village school. Later, I was sent to the nearby town of Rawalpindi and enrolled in the DAV school from where I matriculated.

After this I went to Lahore to join college and passed my Intermediate (12th Class) Examination.

My studies were cut short as our already meagre finances began to dwindle.

This was a moment of anxiety in my life as I realized that my qualifications would not get me a job.

However, at the suggestion of a friend, I went to Amritsar, stayed with him and took a course in shorthand and typing.

There was still no job for me on the horizon and I decided to get back to my village, where it would be easier to live than in a big city.

There followed a point of waiting and frustration. My uncle helped me to get a job in the Lahore Shoe Factory. My work was to supervise the manufacture and sale of shoes.

For a while, things looked brighter but the star of ill luck was still in the ascendant and soon the factory was closed down for lack of finances and I was compelled to return to my village.

In India the importance attached to marriage is beyond all reason. Here I was penniless, jobless and almost friendless, but in spite of these very real disadvantages, my marriage was arranged with the daughter of Shri Ushnak Rai, who belonged to my village. I think my bright looks may have influenced my father-in-law.

I like to think that in spite of other shortcomings I was a smart lad and he probably assessed that I would make good. The days immediately following my marriage were spent with my in-laws in Sargodha.

On my return to Bhaun, a virulent plague epidemic had broken out. My mother told me that since I could not do any-thing to help in such a situation,

I should go back to Sargodha and not risk my life. Plague, in those days was a terrible killer and people naturally dreaded an epidemic, which often wiped out villages. Sadly, I left full of apprehension about my future.

In this mood of depression,

I saw an advertisement in the local newspaper for the post of a junior clerk in a government office. With Rs. 25 in my pocket, which my mother had given me,

I left for Shimla to appear for the examination.

Unprepared as I was, I was unable to pass.

This did not lessen my depression. My time was now spent walking around Shimla and rambling in the countryside.

Being the summer seat of the government of India, the town itself was full of high-ranking officers and members of the Viceroy's Council.

But the hillsides, beyond officialdom were beautiful and there were many walks where one could be alone with one's thoughts.

One day, as I was passing the Hotel Cecil, I suddenly had the urge to go in and try my luck.

Those were the days when this hotel was one of India's leading hotels, high class and elegant. It was owned by the line of Associated Hotels of India.

As I entered, I found the manager himself in the foyer. I did not know who he was but one becomes bold in the face of difficulties. I had nothing to lose, so I went up and asked if I could have a job in the hotel.

The manager was a kindly English gentleman named D W Grove. I was also given the post of billing clerk at Rs. 40 a month. Soon, my salary was raised to Rs. 50.

At my request, on the plea of being married, I was also given living quarters. These were situated on the outer periphery of the hotel and were very humble indeed. When my wife joined me in Shimla, we started to settle down in our modest home.

Here we were faced with the necessity of cleaning the place ourselves. The quarters were in a bad shape and far from clean, but we were thankful to have a roof over our heads.

We had to whitewash the walls ourselves, causing blisters on my hands and the consequent discomfort and embarrassment for me in the hotel work.

Soon after I joined the Cecil, there was a change of management. Mr. Clarke succeeded Mr. Grove as manager. For the first time a small piece of luck came my way.

My knowledge of stenography helped me take over the post of cashier and stenographer to Mr. Clarke, and thus began my grounding on how hotels run.

I worked and maintained an interest in my job. The fact that I knew my efforts were noted encouraged me.


In 1924, Mr. Clarke decided to go into the hotel business for himself. His contract with the Associated Hotels of India had just ended.

He obtained a catering contract for the Delhi Club and asked me if I could join him. I readily accepted the offer. My salary was now Rs. 100.

The Delhi Club contract was only for a year and Mr. Clarke soon began looking around for new business.

The Carlton Hotel in Shimla was in liquidation. Mr. Clarke was eager to lease it but guarantors were required.

Here I was able to help and thus discharge a part of the moral debt, which his kindness and consideration in the past had placed upon me.

I approached some of my relatives and friends who had means to assist with their co-operation.

The Clarkes Hotel in Shimla was opened.

After five years, Mr. Clarke decided to retire and sell out the hotel.

He made me an offer saying he would prefer someone who could maintain the tradition and efficiency of the hotel to run it.

Acceptance meant that I would have to mortgage my few assets and my wife's jewellery in order to raise the necessary funds. However, I did not hesitate long.

The opportunity seemed almost a Godsend, as we Indians are a superstitious people. I took over the proprietorship of Clarkes Hotel with the help of a kind uncle who had stood by me in the past.

I was now established in the Hotel business.

It is a strange coincidence that nearly every turn in my life has been associated with an epidemic of some sort.

In 1933 there had been a cholera epidemic of vast proportions in Calcutta (now Kolkata). The Grand Hotel had been closed ever since, as more than a hundred foreign guests had died. People were afraid to visit Calcutta.

I happened to see the advertisement placed by the liquidators and immediately decided to take over the hotel if I could get in on low leasehold.

The negotiated rent was Rs. 7,000 a month. I agreed to this figure and had the place cleaned up and refurnished.

With the outbreak of the Second World War in 1939, Calcutta was full of troops.

The British Army was frantically trying to find accommodation.

I immediately improvised 1,500 beds for the troops at Rs 10 per head for board and lodging.

I also appointed Mr. Grove, who had been my first employer at the Cecil Hotel where he had engaged me on Rs. 50 a month, on a monthly salary of Rs. 1,500.

Taking over a cholera-ridden hotel had been a landmark in my career.

The fact that I converted it and helped the Army in the time of stress and difficulty had come to the notice of the government. In 1941,

I was awarded the title of Rai Bahadur by the government of India in recognition of the services to the Indian Hotel Industry.


In 1943, I bought out the controlling shareholdings of Associated Hotels of India Limited from Spencer & Company borrowing capital against the security of shares of the same company. In this way, I gained control over a big chain of hotels with establishments in Rawalpindi, Peshawar, Lahore, Muree and Delhi.

I employed as one of my general managers, the son of my former boss in Shimla, Mr Falleti.

The wheel had turned a full circle. I gradually added more hotels to my chain in Darjeeling, Chandigarh and Kashmir. I began to think of building my own hotels, and the first attempt was a small hotel in Gopalpur-on-Sea, in Orissa.

India was now independent. Horizons had widened. I began to feel the world was my oyster -- that I could succeed in anything I attempted. Fortunately, I also realized that it was not good enough to keep launching new ventures if old ones were allowed to suffer. Too often efficiency and high standards once established are taken for granted.

My constant aim has been to preserve the reputation of my hotels at the highest possible level. This pays many kinds of dividends. I was elected President of the Federation of Hotel and Restaurant Associations of India in April 1955, and in 1960. I was created President of Honor of the Federation for life.

My main interest was building India amongst the top-most countries in the hotel expertise, also providing employment for improving the quality of life and helping the young.

I contested the Rajya Sabha election in 1962 and was successful. In 1967, I stood for the election for the Lok Sabha and won with a majority of over 46,000 votes -- not a bad record for a newcomer in politics.

I was able to open the Oberoi Intercontinental Hotel in 1965 -- a joint venture with Inter-continental Hotels Corporation and Pan American. Before this event could take place there were years of work and what some-times seemed innumerable difficulties. The reward for my labour comes through the fact that this hotel has become one of the most prestigious establishments in India.

My hotels continued to expand. Some people refer to them as my Empire. A hotel is a small nation in itself and a chain does perhaps merit the name of Empire. This empire is not an imperialistic one, but rather based on the idea of rendering service. This has always been my wish and my endeavor.

By Now you might have understood whom we are reading about, He is “Rai Bahadur Mohan Singh Oberoi” who was an Indian hotelier, the founder and chairman of Oberoi Hotels & Resorts, India's second-largest hotel company, with more than 35 hotels in India, Singapore, Saudi Arabia, Sri Lanka , Nepal, Gulf Area, Egypt  and Africa.

Moral of the story :

Dare to Dream Big, Live you Dreams and work hard to make your dream come true!


Remember: If you can dream it, you can do it !




Make it a great Week !


Shailesh



Monday, February 11, 2013

The boulder !

Welcome to 78th Monday Musings:


A very long time ago, a King had a boulder (a very big rock) placed on a roadway.

Then he hid himself somewhere around and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock from the roadway.



Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by, they saw the huge rock and simply did nothing else than to walk around it.

Many of them even loudly blamed the king for not keeping the roads clear, but none of them made a single attempt to move the stone out of the way.

Again, some of the chiefs of the village passed by, saw the rock, made no attempt to remove it but instead, walked away.

Not long, a poor peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables.

When he approached the rock, he laid down his burden and tried to move the stone from the middle of the road to a side of the road.

After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded.

After rolling away the rock, the peasant picked up his load of vegetables and was about to go, when, he noticed a bag lying in the road where the rock had been.

The bag contained so many gold coins enough to make one rich for a lifetime and a note from the king stating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway.

And He had become rich! , The poor peasant farmer learned what many of us never understand. Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.

Moral of the story :


Always do your best to render the little service you can even when nobody is around. There is always a reward for every good work you.


Every day brings opportunity for you, It could be in form of obstacle, a challenge or else, but what it give you is………………


Chance to change your life !




Make it a great Week !


Shailesh



Monday, January 28, 2013

The Masters !

Welcome to 77th Monday Musings:


When one Guru was dying, one of his disciples asked him "Guru ji, who was your master? “He said, "I had thousands of masters. If I just relate their names it will take months, years and it is too late. But three masters I will certainly tell you about.

One was a thief.

Once I got lost in the desert, and when I reached a village it was very late, everything was closed. But at last I found one man who was trying to make a hole in the wall of a house. I asked him where I could stay and he said 'At this time of night it will be difficult, but you can say with me - if you can stay with a thief’. And the man was so beautiful. I stayed for one month! And each night he would say to me, 'Now I am going to my work. You rest, you pray.' When he came back I would ask 'Could you get anything?' He would say, 'Not tonight. But tomorrow I will try again, God willing.' He was never in a state of hopelessness, he was always happy.

When I was meditating and meditating for years on end and nothing was happening, many times the moment came when I was so desperate, so hopeless, that I thought to stop all this nonsense. And suddenly I would remember the thief who would say every night, 'God willing, tomorrow it is going to happen.'

And my second master was a dog.

I was going to the river, thirsty and a dog came. He was also thirsty. He looked into the river, he saw another dog there -- his own image -- and became afraid. He would bard and run away, but his thirst was so much that he would come back. Finally, despite his fear, he just jumped into the water, and the image disappeared. And I knew that a message had come to me from God: one has to jump in spite of all fears.

And the third master was a small child. I entered a town and a child was carrying a lit candle. he was going to the mosque to put the candle there.

Just jokingly, I asked the boy, 'have you lit the candle yourself?' 

He said,  'Yes sir.' 

And I asked, 'There was a moment when the candle was unlit, then there was a moment when the candle was lit. Can you show me the source from which the light came?' And the boy laughed, blew out the candle, and said, 'Now you have seen the light going. Where has it gone? You will tell me!'

My ego was shattered, my whole knowledge was shattered. And that moment I felt my own stupidity. Since then I dropped all my knowledgeability.

It is true that I had no master. That does not mean that I was not a disciple

I accepted the whole existence as my master. My Disciple hood was a greater involvement than yours is.

I trusted the clouds, the trees. I trusted existence as such. I had no master because I had millions of masters I learned from every possible source. To be a disciple is a must on the path.

What does it mean to be a disciple? It means to be able to learn, to be available to learn to be vulnerable to existence.

With a master you start learning to learn.

Moral of the story :

The master is a swimming pool where you can learn how to swim. Once you have learned, all the oceans are yours.

Always be ready to learn!





Make it a great Week !


Shailesh

Monday, January 21, 2013

What goes around, comes around !


Welcome to 76th Monday Musings:






One day a man saw an old lady, stranded on the side of the road, but even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help.

So he stopped in front of her Mercedes and got out.  His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her. Even with the smile on his face, she was worried.  No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so.

Was he going to hurt her?  He didn’t look safe; he looked poor and hungry.  He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold.

He knew how she felt. It was those chills which only fear can put in you.

He said"I’m here to help you, ma’am. Why don’t you wait in the car where it’s warm? By the way, my name is Bryan Anderson."

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough.

Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt.

As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him.  She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn’t thank him enough for coming to her aid.

Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk.

The lady asked how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped.

Bryan never thought twice about being paid.  This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty, who had given him a hand in the past.

He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way.  He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, "And think of me."

He waited until she started her car and drove off.  It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.

A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home.

It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her.

The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn’t erase.

The lady noticed the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude.

The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan. After the lady finished her meal, she paid with a hundred dollar bill.

The waitress quickly went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, but the old lady had slipped right out the door.

She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The waitress wondered where the lady could be.

Then she noticed something written on the napkin. There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: "You don’t owe me anything. I have been there too. Somebody once helped me out, the way I’m helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you."

Under the napkin were four more $100 bills. Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day.

That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it?

With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard.

She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything’s going to be all right. I love you, Bryan Anderson."

Moral of the story :

There is an old saying "What goes around comes around." Whatever good act you perform God will never fail to compensate you in a different way beyond your wildest imagination...

Always do the Good Karma, and good things will come back to you!



Make it a great Week !

Shailesh

Monday, January 14, 2013

How Would You Like to be Remembered ?


Welcome to 75th Monday Musings:

It’s a true incident that occurred about a hundred years back.


There was a man who once got surprised by seeing his name in the obituary column of the morning newspaper.

The newspaper had reported his death by mistake.

That man was really shocked to see what was written, at an instance he thought ‘am I really dead’ after a while when he gained consciousness he searched the column to find out what the people might have said about him.

The column begins as follows “Dynamite King Dies”, followed by the phrase “He was the merchant of death”.

This man was actually an inventor of dynamite technology, when he read the column he went in great worry and stress that is this how he’ll be remembered by others.





He was really hurt by what the newspapers said about him, the harsh words made him get emotional and touch with his feelings.

He stood up realizing that this is definitely not the way he wants himself to be remembered.

He promised himself that he’ll work in a way that makes him remembered by others with great respect and positivity.

From that day on he started working towards peace.

His name was Alfred Nobel and he is remembered today by the famous Nobel Prize




Moral of the story :

It’s never too late to start doing good things, start today so you will be remembered in way you always want to be.



Do Good work and keep doing it, and Make your life worth remember !

Make it a great Week!

Shailesh