It's all about giving, giving and giving.....!

                                                                  The art of giving.

Wonderful topic to end the year but before my thoughts start flowing, a big Thank you to the admins for coming up with such insightful topics for discussions. Not only do these topics help making the darling to darling bond and the DOV to reader bond stronger but also help darlings individually, in discovering one's lost spirit and realizing the very true person we all used to be, before getting engaged into all the rush and hush of the world. 

With every single topic announced here, I try to remember and write with my true spirit, the spirit with which I was born and try to forget the bad spirit this cruel world and life had made out of that pure soul. 

Giving is a very strong word and includes a wide scope of explaining what it actually means. Giving is simply giving. Imparting something to a living soul or to this world, that was once yours or you were once related with and now you chose somebody to be it's sole owner. Give somebody a smile and see the magic of it spreading it on the other person's face. Give somebody a hug and sense the happiness you will make that other person feel by doing it. Give a needy beggar a coin and see the genuine smile you will receive. Give a child a candy and see the love you will be showered the next moment. It's all about giving, giving and giving...!

But then, it's also important as to what you are giving. As we all are well versed so let's not venture into that side, let's just celebrate the topic with the spirit we all are bound on Darlings Of Venus. Let's venture into Women and Giving.

Women is to giving or let's say Giving is to Women. Since childhood we girls are taught, give and so shall you receive. Giving is what we learn from our mothers. They give us our daily meals, hence we girls become their better servers once we grow up. The way they serve our family members, we do the same.We give our smiles, our love, our care, our time, our devotion to every single person in our life. But we never use the harsh word, Give, because we simply just don't Give, under some copulsion or fear, but we love to Give. Hence we call it Loving and not Giving.

The time till we are married, we Give love and happiness to our parents, siblings, friends and relatives and after we are married, we Give love and happiness to our new parents, friends and relatives. The fact of leaving our home bothers but the spirit of Giving is not bothered. It doesn't matters to us as to whom we are giving, what matters to us is whether we are giving or not. Women imbibes power to win over all just by giving love. We love to give and this giving is not at all done in some expectation of getting something in return. Trust me, whenever you are served by a woman, she's not expecting something in return, even if she complains of not being served in return. Women posses little or no pride where love is concerned. Pride ia a quality often on their lips, but not apparent in their actions.

It's the nature of Women to be so. We don't complain, we are simply made to Give and not to expect something to accept. We love to give Love and surely do we love when given back something in Love. That's why it is said, only a little of His love is required to woo a her while all of Her is required to woo Him.

Now to wind up, forgive me if I hadn't been able to convey my thoughts well or if I did stray away from the topic, (It's been long since I have written so pardon me for being away from DOV and Blogging. Also am sorry for writing so late on the topic of discussion). All I wanted to state was to celebrate the pure giving nature of a Women. Proud to be a girl. 

Happy New Year to all the readers.

Smita

The gift of light

 I used to believe it when mother said aunt Dorothy had got white roses for me. I used to believe when father would drive me to beach and describe the sky a painting of crimson and blue. I used to believe Trish when she told me that she bought me a green shirt. I used to believe Vikram when he announced to us that his new pet is a golden retriever. I used to believe Shanti aunty, our maid, when she promised me that I was wearing brown shoes for school. I used to believe Raman Sir when he said he gave me purple, orange and green sketches to colour during class. I also believed him when he said I used the purple sketch the most. 

I didn't have much choice back then. My world was a monotonous black and that's the only colour I knew. I had to agree with my family when they said it was dawn and when it was dusk, I couldn't tell the difference; I lived in a dark world. When the festival of lights came I only heard the noise outdoors and smelt the delicious food. It felt like life was laid out for me and I just had to follow it like clock work. Everybody around me helped me take in the surroundings, they told me of the beauty of this world and the wonderous creations of God. It pained me not be able to see who I am, to see how pretty Trish looked on her wedding day, to see how beautiful the night sky looked with a lone moon to light it up. But then I knew my world as it was told to me and I accepted it. 

Today I can see that I actually used the purple sketch the most. I hear the birds chirp as I walk past the park and I know that they are happy to see me just as I am to see them. I give aunt Dorothy white roses and she gives me a warm hug. I take dad out on a drive and thank him for all the times he drove me up to the beach and he is happy when I tell him his illustration of the setting sun was almost accurate. I see Sparky, Vikram's pet, as he steals our cricket ball and hides it under the car and wonder what he must have been like as a pup. I see mother wipe away those tears as I clutch my college degree in my hands and I see who I am. I see the miracle of life all around me and I see beauty of this world in all it's glorious ways.  

Earlier when I lived the life laid out for me, everything was portrayed so beautifully, everything so peaceful like everybody was in love and everything was perfect, but today when I can see things for myself I can't help but see more hatred than love, more horror than solace and more pain than joys. The world I knew back then is not the world I see now, what changed and why?  I can't thank God enough for bringing back light in my life and I can't express the enormous gratitude I have for the donor who chose to leave behind his legacy with me. I would never want to go back to the world of engulfing blackness but in a world filled with the green of envy and red of anger I feel I'm blind all over again!!!

I've always been in awe with colours and I can't imagine my life without them. I love to see the sun set and love to see the dance of colours at the horizon when that happens. I adore my pets and I can't stop looking at myself the days my hair blesses me with a tamed behaviour. I have found peace and wisdom by gazing up at the stars and I never could turn away from a well laid out buffet. All these are familiar to me and comforting and I can't imagine, even for a minute, what my life would be if I couldn't see these things again. Or never saw them in the first place. Disability is an encumbrance which none of us would wish on ourselves or our loved ones. I've always been fascinated by the conversations the deaf and dumb have, but blind  people affect me a lot. I've cried so many times looking at the blind try to find their way sometimes with the help of their stick sometimes with the help of us normal people. All of us feel for them I'm sure, but how many of us do anything at all about what we feel. We take some of our basic gifts for granted, a gift like sight being one of them!!! People like Helen Keller and Franklin Roosevelt I'm sure inspire a lot of us.

                                                      How many of you remember this ad?

I think she looks much better now, but those eyes still remain just as beautiful and so does the message. If you haven't already done so please do, you could help somebody see that miracles can actually come true. To know more about pledging your eyes and how to do so visit : here, here or here. I donate blood every time I go over 45 kilos, I've already pledged my eyes, so this year I wanted to do a little more. On my B'day I'll be spending the entire day with the blind and here after if possible every weekend at a school for the blind orphans. There are still among us who believe that those who don't find their roots remain demented for life,  for such people more giving than the rest of us I say!!! Vision without action is a dream. Action without vision is simply passing the time. Action with Vision is making a positive difference. Blessed are those who can give without remembering, and take without forgetting!!!

Bring in the new year in style people :D :D :D.

XOXO

P.S. Anybody willing to donate those purple eyes please contact me first :P                                                         

Of Snow and Bells

The heavy Church Bell rang thrice as I stared out of my window across the snow filled, cold street. I was lucky to hear the sound floating to me from St. Margaret's Church. It made me feel alive. Blessed. May be I should take a walk. I thought. London was Cold. Cold and Wet. I didn't know what I hated more. Festivities were heavy in the air but I missed the warmth I used to feel at home. I knew I was going to be late for University again. The Gray sky warned that soon there could be a heavy snow fall. Good Riddance. I turned away from the window and pulled my muffler tight around my neck. It had been a month since I was here. And peace had evaded me since then. I felt lonely. And My Birthday was just a week away. Sigh. This was going to suck. I sighed once again and grabbed my coffee and cold toast. 

St. Margaret's, Westminster

I brushed my hair too roughly not caring how it stood up stubbornly. I had apparently straight hair. But now it was frizzy! Gah!! Bad Bad Bad. I dressed in a Black overcoat, put my gloves and shoes and lip balm and stepped out. The Old Land Lady was adjusting the pots on her window. She waved at me as I gave her a courteous smile. "Merry Christmas My Dear!" She said. I thanked and turned swiftly on my heels. The walk to the Church would usually take me some 15 minutes but I stretched it to 25 today. I walked slowly, staring at the festoons and hollies and mistletoes. In day light, they seemed somber to me, just like my mood. 

Sigh. (Image Source)

I sighed for the nth time and quickened my steps towards the Church. I reached into the lane that was parallel to the abbey. I entered, rubbing my palms together and watching my breath freeze before me. The Church was empty at this time of the day. I gave a relieved and content sigh. The Pastor looked at me and called me forward. He was intrigued by the Indian who never failed to visit the Church, even if there was a blizzard. I lit a candle at the altar closed my eyes and thanked whoever was listening to me. I got up slowly, peace descending on me like a warm shroud. I turned to take my usual seat at the end of the gallery when I noticed her again. She was a fellow woman who too never missed coming to Church. Her eyes caught mine and she surprisingly gave me a warm smile, which sent warm tingles in me. She was a familiar. But I couldn't recall. I gave her a smile of my own and withdrew my thoughts to myself. I stared at the high ceiling, the wide arcs and the brilliance of the people who created it. My thoughts didn't go to what I missed or my miseries but suddenly loneliness grabbed me as I cried a solitary tear. Here, no one saw me. 

I controlled my ragged breath as I felt a movement next to me. She was sitting next to me. I gave her a quizzical, lopsided smile. 

"I'm sorry I must be intruding. But I felt a company would make you feel better." She smiled at me again. I nodded in approval for words were failing me.

"I see you here everyday but you don't seem Christian. I mean no offence when I say that. Are you a believer?" I could feel her hesitation as she tried to make conversation. Not trying to be the mean bitch I felt like, I answered as politely I could, for Britishers were known for upper stiff lip. I wouldn't take that risk.

She intrigued me. (Image Source)

''I am from India. I come here...because it soothes me. The calmness here. No, I'm not Christian and no offence taken." I smiled at her feeling better. She nodded but I saw some hesitation. I didn't know what to ask or how to. So, I blurted the first thing without thinking.

"Would you mind some coffee? Ofcourse unless you have family engagements." I knew I had committed a faux pas. It was Christmas for crying out loud! And just because I was alone, didn't mean I would invite strangers. To my relief she said, "As I said, a company is never bad. I would love coffee." This time she grinned and I noticed a sadness in her eyes but didn't dwell on it too much.We got up together. 

I chose a table near the windows of the cafe so that some light could come in. All the while we spoke of lighter things like weather, festivities, coffee, what we liked and disliked. She was full of light. And Happiness. And warmth. And being with her made me feel light. Like a sun beam was focused at my heart. I was getting cheery by the moment, my University Lecture long forgotten. We were laughing and enjoying ourselves. Suddenly I asked her~

"I come to seek peace but why do you visit Church every day without fail?" Again that same sadness I had noticed before flickered on her face. I regretted my question instantly. I tried to cover up "Hey, it's all right. I didn't mean to be intruding!" I squeezed her hand sympathetically. 

Her eyes were sad... (Image Source)

"I visit Church everyday, for I love to believe that my loved ones are happy. Few moments of Life, I live with them in there." She said with a sad smile. "My family died in an accident last month. I am alone. And Christmas doesn't seem the same anymore. I used to watch you and wonder what struck you. Your determination, even though you were new here, gave me strength." 

I felt ashamed of myself. This woman was made of iron. And she thought I was strong? I gave her a tight smile as she looked away, her eyes filling up. I paid, while she resisted. We decided to part ways. She hugged me and gave me a tiny golden bell from her wallet. "You gave me something to look forward to. A friend. This bell will remind you of me...when you go back to India." She said. That tiny bell and her words were a gift I didn't rightfully deserve. Before she could disappear, I ran after her. She stopped as I called out to her.

The tiny golden bell... (Image Source)

"Will you spend the Christmas with me?" I asked, aware how lonely I was sounding, still.

"I would love to..." She smiled and walked away.

On Giving

One of my favourite poems written by Khalil Gibran, is called “On Giving.” It pretty much sums up everything I would want to say on the topic at hand. Nevertheless, it is quite a long poem, so what I’ll do is talk about a few verses/phrases and what they mean to me.

And what is fear of need but need itself?

Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable?

I can relate to this, especially in terms of the ideology of savings that middle-class Indians follow. I don’t believe in saving everything I earn, simply because it is a futile exercise. Lakhs and lakhs (maybe even crores) are stashed away in the name of savings, while millions die of hunger. Neither does the owner enjoy it, nor does the poor man. Do we really need to horde money for our future generations? Savings can be made, in moderation. Beyond that, money needs to be put to better use.

And there are those who have little and give it all.

These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty.

Those who give today, will be taken care of tomorrow. In other words, what goes around, comes around. Therefore, we need never to fear in giving what we have. It’s true.

All you have shall some day be given;

Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'.

Just like we say in India, we aren’t taking any of our wealth to the grave. We have to give it all up at some point. So give now. Not when you’re 40, not when you’re dying, not when you have ‘enough’. Giving can start now.

You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving."

The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture.

They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.

Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights, is worthy of all else from you.

I cannot talk enough about this. I have met countless people who say “But will it reach the right people?”, “Oh, it doesn’t make a difference, the middle men will steal it away,” “That beggar’s got arms and legs, he can work for himself,” or “That beggar is old/handicapped so I can give him money”…

What is our strange sense of attachment to wealth that we feel what is ‘ours’ should go only to someone ‘deserving’? What would happen if the mango tree decided to give its fruit only to the deserving? Aren’t we all allowed to climb up, just the same? If a person is worthy enough to be alive, I am no one to judge if he is worthy enough to receive. It’s the giving that counts, nothing else. What the receiver does with the money is entirely not up to me.

See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving.

For in truth it is life that gives unto life while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.

I am not the real giver. It’s life giving to life. I’m merely the instrument. This is a beautiful, profound thought that I wholeheartedly subscribe to.

You give but little when you give of your possessions.

It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.

Truly giving of myself is perhaps the toughest thing for me. It’s easy to say, but quite opposite in reality. Especially when I have to give of myself in my own home. When I realize that life and situations would be easier if I swallowed my pride, showed kindness to the people who I feel are getting on my nerves, when I have to put my needs aside and pay attention to those of others. Letting go of my wants, desires, needs, habits, in the interest of everyone at stake, is how I attempt to give of myself. These are very trying situations. I try my best, I fail, I try again.

Of course, these are my own opinions, what I choose to follow. You may have your own and I will be glad to hear them. Please fee free to share!

Read the full poem, here.

                                             

Happiness doesn't result from what we get, but from what we give

Finally! My post on this month's discussion "The Art Of Giving". I know its extremely long, so please have patience. Also its not one of my best works. I literally scribbled this in 20 min. So please concentrate on the message, rather than my poor writing skills :P

Now that we've cleared this, READ! :D 

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Shruti sighed as the traffic light changed to red again. Why did the whole city have to be on the road on a Saturday morning? Stupid traffic, she grumbled to herself. She had no choice anyway. Stupid manager had called the whole team on the weekend, the weekend before christmas!!! Urrgghh! Stupid job, stupid life! There was no end to this stupidity. She sat in the back seat of her Skoda, staring out the window and brooding as her driver tried to maneuver the traffic and get ahead. Stupid life indeed. An hour later, and after numerous calls from her team lead asking her why she hadn't reached office yet, she turned into the huge familiar gates of the IT Park. Not a person in sight, except for the cleaners and sweepers. She had to cancel all her plans of going shopping with her friends and meeting her boyfriend for lunch. 

As she reached the front desk, the security ladies stopped her for checking her bag. As usual they were more interested in catching up on their daily gossip rather than checking her bag. Such a callous attitude! They should be fired! What if she had a bomb right there in her bag? They dint care one bit! She fumed and walked away in a huff. The same thing every day! Every day she felt like saying something to them but then it wasn't her business. As she stopped by the twelve elevators, a maintenance man said "Madam you need to take the stairs, all the elevators are under repair and maintenance for today". "What do you mean ALL of them? All twelve?" she asked incredulously. Great. Just awesome. Now she had to climb six floors. This day was going to be just perfect. 

She entered her ODC and was greeted with chaos. That was how her  project was every single day. As usual they were far far behind on their schedule. "Shruti, I've already assigned 15 components for you to test", her team lead rambled on as soon as he spotted her. "Also have a look at the defect sheet. The CICS team is waiting on us. Unless we fix the priority-1 defects they can't get started on their testing". She sighed, switched on her computer and got to work. 

2 hours later

"Shruti, coming for chai?" her teammate Anita called out. Wow, I've worked for 2hrs Shruti thought and said "Let's go! Am dying for a break". They passed the security ladies again and Shruti heard snippets of their conversation. "I think her husband hit her again, That's why she din't come today" said the first lady "I know poor woman, it seems her son has been sick since the past one week, and that drunken bastard has still not given her money. He is still seeing that other woman too" the second lady responded. "Come! Before our torturous team lead starts ringing us again!" Anita shouted, pulling her forward. It wasn't the first time Shruti had heard them talking about such matters. But she had never really bothered. There was always some other immediate distraction. A colleague greeting her, a "Why are you not at office yet?" message from her team lead, or she was busy chatting with her boyfriend. But something was different today and it pricked her. 

She sat on the little plastic stool at the tea stall, sipping her tea when she saw that old woman again. She'd been there since the first day Shruti had joined her job. She was an old woman, with a shaven head, tattered clothes and kept mumbling something under her breath. Her 'home' was beside the tea stall. A few tattered blankets, the most filthy looking clothes(?), all bundled together.  For the hundredth time Shruti thought about her, why was she here? Where were her sons and daughters? Was she really crazy? Was she eating daily? What if the old lady fell sick? "Fifteen rupees madam", the chai waala said, interrupting her thoughts. "What?" she spluttered "Fifteen rupees for this measly little cup of watery tea?" "Madam its a Saturday, and its fifteen on Saturday" he said. "What kind of nonsense logic is that! You are looting people! Just because you have a chai stall in Hi-tech city, doesn't mean you can charge Hi-tech prices" she raised her voice. "Mam the prices are fixed" said the chai waala raising his voice and pointing to the little piece of paper mentioning all the rates that he had stuck to his stall, "You should have checked the price before buying my tea then" he said. "Let it go Shruti, we don't have time for arguments" Anita said, digging into her purse to pay up before Shruti started one of her famous arguments again.

Muttering and fuming, Shruti headed inside with her friend, when she spotted a third security lady. The three of them had their heads together and were discussing something, there was an urgency in their voices. "Uhh.. Hello? Aren't you going to check us again", Anita asked them. It was then that Shruti noticed, the third lady had a black eye and she was crying silently. The security lady barely glanced into their bags and said "Done madam". That must be the woman they were talking about, the one who was being abused, she thought as they headed to the stairs. 

Within an hour she had forgotten all about the women and her problems. Her manager had come breezing in and began criticizing every thing. They were still no where near schedule for Monday, and with her manager breathing down her neck every few minutes she was finding it extremely hard to concentrate on work. They all had lunch at their desks while working, "We don't have time to while away in the cafeteria people" her manager had announced. What an idiot! He walks in at afternoon after having a hearty meal at home, and now begins his tyranny here. She hoped and prayed, she would get out of this project soon. 

End of the day…

Phew! Done! I can finally go home now, Shruti thought as she was wrapping up for the day. "Excuse me, may I have your attention everyone", her manager suddenly announced. What now, she groaned. Everyone got to their feet uncertainly, because usually such an announcement was followed by 'We need to stretch until 8'o clock today'. "I just want to thank you all for coming this weekend. All of you. But one person has relentlessly put in their best efforts, and has come to office every single weekend without any complaint. And its because of her that we are going be back on schedule! Shruti, please come forward".

She was shocked. Was she dreaming? This was her manager right? The one who refused to give her a leave even when she was so sick she could barely walk? The one who piled up more and more work on her as soon as she thought she was done with her share? The one who was never satisfied by the number of defects she fixed, and always had something to criticize? She walked forward still amazed by this sudden gesture. "Here" her manager handed her a huge hamper full of sweets, chocolates and christmas cake. "Sorry I was always so hard on you Shruti", he said with a twinkle in his eye, "I just saw your potential" he smiled. She gave a huge grin and took the hamper.

Not a bad day after all!, she thought to herself as she climbed down the stairs. She saw the three security ladies again. The third lady was somewhat calm now but still very dejected. The other two were counting money and giving it to her. "Here, take this for your son's hospital bill. We'll ask the others and come up with something" they were saying. Shruti saw them looking at her and she smiled tentatively and hurried out. She wanted to say something but she din't know what. As she stepped out, she called her driver asking him to come to the front of the building. It was then that she saw the chai waala bending over that old lady and saying "Take this Amma, this should be enough for three or four days", and he handed her the money. Now she understood why he had charged fifteen rupees for a thumb sized cup of tea. The chai waala caught her staring and gave an apologetic smile. Shruti smiled back understandingly, cursing herself to have judged so quickly. Suddenly she made up her mind. 

"Wait right here" she shouted to her driver and ran back inside. She skidded to a stop in front of the security ladies who looked up in surprise. The third lady had started crying again. Shruti fished into her purse and took out a few hundred rupee notes. "I don't know what's wrong with your son, but please take this and take him to a good doctor. If you need more, well, i'll be back on monday anyway so you can let me know then!" The lady gaped at her with tears in her eyes "How?.. How?… How can I thank you", she sobbed. Shruti fidgeted, "No no.. please.. I am happy to help, here take this too.. for your son, it'll cheer him up". She handed over two boxes of sweets from her hamper and gave it to her. She smiled at the incredulous look the woman gave her and said "You don't have to thank me" and left the woman with tears and happiness shining in her eyes. She ran out to see the chai waala packing up and walking away.. "Hey! You!  Hey wait!" she called and ran after him. "Merry christmas!" she said and pressed a box of sweets into his hands. The shocked chai waala said with a toothy grin "Thank you madam… and… errr.. sorry i was rude earlier". 

She waved him away and turned to give one to the old lady too, maybe she could just put it beside her and go away? She was a bit scared of the crazy old lady. But wait, where was she? She had disappeared. Wasn't she here just five minutes ago? Strange.. she thought and got into her car. 

Monday morning…

Shruti got down from her car and glanced at the chai waala's stall. He was busy with customers and the old lady was back! And she had a box of sweets beside her, a box that was from her hamper. Just then she saw a little boy about seven giving the old lady another sweet from the box, and then running inside the building with the box in hand. As she reached the front desk, she saw the security lady again. The little boy was clinging to her uniform. "Madam!" the lady called out brightly. "I can't thank you enough. My little boy is much better now and I have moved out from my husband's house. I am staying with my sister nearby" she said softly smiling at her son. "That's… great!' Shruti smiled back. I just changed that woman's life Shruti thought as she walked away. She felt all warm and fuzzy… on a monday morning! "Madam lift is still under maintenance" the repair guy said. Shruti looked at him, laughed and ran up the flight of stairs!

“As we work to create light for others, we naturally light our own way.”
― Mary Anne Radmacher

When I made my Daddy Happy

I was playing with my  Thomas and Friends train set when I saw Daddy reading that book. I was immediately interested. It had a picture of a laptop on it . I loved laptops . Ever since I could remember which wasn't really much, since I had been born only 3 years ago. But I had been fascinated enough by it to take out keys, try feed it corn flakes and even pull out a CD drive . Now I know it is something that needs to be handled with care. I can watch you tube videos all by myself. (swells with pride).

Source

That book looks like it is full of laptop pictures. I decided to  employ my usual methods of coercion to wheedle the book out of his hands. I wailed and I howled . Daddy just walked away into a different room to read. I decided to pester him until I got what I wanted. Little babies like me always had their way. "I wanna book....". I wailed again. Mama came and lifted me off my feet. I wailed louder. "I wanna book". Finally Dad got tired of it and kept the book with a bang in front of me and walked away in a huff. I  got what I wanted. I quickly grabbed the book. But suddenly ,it wasn't fun anymore. I  looked around hoping to flash  my victorious smile , but Daddy had gone off somewhere.

 

 

I went to look for him. I found him in the bedroom lying down on the bed . Realization struck me. I understood. I lie down on the bed by myself when I'm sad . I had made Daddy sad by taking the book all for myself . I felt sad too. I wanted that book badly , but I wanted Daddy to be happy too. I looked at the book and then at Daddy. Then I made my decision. I quietly kept the book near Daddy and walked back looking for Mama. I ran into her arms and wept my heart out. Then I felt a kiss on my tear stained cheek, and the rugged feel of an unshaven face .I out stretched my arms and jumped to hug my Daddy. He was smiling at  me and telling Mama how proud he was of me. That I had given up something I really really wanted to make some one else I cared about happy. That I would grow up a fine man.

The world was alright again as Daddy placed me on his lap and we looked at the laptop pictures in the book together.

P.S : Giving is not an art. It comes straight from your heart. This story would be my son's take on the topic :)

After all these days? Always.

I was looking beyond the horizon and my mind was searching even beyond that. For the meaning of giving. I was reminded of one incident in my life made me realize the art of giving. Since then, I have at least been trying to become more understanding, more giving. I won't say I have succeeded, given my inherent habit of being the demanding person that I was and am. Nevertheless, I try. In the hope that someday, I will succeed.

It was a phase of life when I was distraught. In a trance. Not knowing what I was doing and even when I knew, I couldn't judge if it was right. Some force just dragged me along and let's say I was lost. Yeah! Totally lost would describe the person who was me. None in my life stood beside me. Some judged me and left me. Some thought I am crazy and avoided me. Some misunderstood me and spread rumors of their own creation. But, one soul stood beside, getting hurt all the way. Receiving hurls of disgrace that I threw, gracefully. Knowing fully well, in my right state of mind I would not be doing it. That, I consider as my encounter with the art of giving. Giving your full understanding even when the person is fully on the wrong side of judgement.

What I said above is just an example from my life. Many of us have been in a situation or seen people in a situation when a person loses his/her sense and get lost in a whirl of emotions or wrong decisions. For some reason, that they even don't know. Confused and lost is what they experience at such situations. They would want something that is not theirs and at the same time, deep down they would also know that what they are doing is sin. They would hurt a lot of people in doing what they want. At such times, what people need is support, understanding and care. Unconditionally. Yeah, they will hurt you when you try to do all these. Still, unwavering support is the only cure for them. To say right, you have to understand they are in a state close to possessed. Possessed by their own share of evil mind.

Giving to such persons is a divine gesture. Because, they would not know your worth. But, you are the life saver and they will realize that in the future. We gift our beloveds with a lot of things along the lane of life, but most importantly we must gift them with our understanding and unwavering support. Just think about it, to know that you got a person who would never let go of your hand even if you let go. How treasured the feeling is. If you have ever been on the receiving end of such a divine gift, you would know. And if you get a chance to bestow anyone with this kind of giving, gifting your support, please do. It would be painful for you, but it would be worth it. 

Whenever I read the conversation between Dumbledore and Snape, when Dumbledore asks "After all these days? and Snape replies "Always", I just feel that in that one word, J.K.Rowling has summarized every form of giving. It is something beyond love. To give your life and much more than that to a person whom you absolutely loathe except for the eyes which reminds you of your soul. It is simply astounding. I wouldn't call it just love. Lending your ear during a difficult time, giving your shoulder for another's tears are all good. Even life-changing. But, what matters is if you will do it over and over again, if needed. If you will, then I know God exists. For me, I have known such a soul and I am trying to master the art of giving unwavering, unconditional support/understanding or whatever it takes to be the better person who you can be.

Until later, 

Keirthana

P.S: This might not be exactly what you people were looking for the discussion and might be a little abstract. But, I wrote what the art of giving meant to me. Hope you will understand.