Rain Drops E-Magazine December 2011


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Rain Drops E-Magazine December 2011

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Rain Drops E-Magazine December 2011

  1. 1. Price: `. (Free)Issue:- December 2011 Vol:- V Rain DropsRain Drops
  2. 2. Editorial ContentDec 2011 2 3 Dec 2011 DearReaders, Thiscouldwellbeourlasteditionofthee-magazine!TheRDteamdecidedtoendthedigital magazine as of now and accept all submissions over the site and on the FB page. We may in future publish quarterly or even monthly editions again but as of now, creative writings will goonlinecompletely! We just concluded an event for the kids in Mumbai, an art competition featuring Christmas or winter as a theme. It is our great pleasure to be publishing all those fine art works done by the budding artists. We shall also continue to hold events, online and offline as long as it takes.Differenteventsbythee-magazineorbythepublishinghouse. We love to encourage kids and adults in the field of creativity. In the field of art, writing, music or whatever the internal talent may dictate the soul. True happiness gushes forth when you land up doing something you really love and find peace with. Hence, continue doing something creative, no matter what your age, find time for it, somehow, anyhow and youwillfillyourheartandsoulwithrealpleasures. Come forward and communicate with us anytime at: or oronourcell:+91-9619629092. Pleasewritetous,welovetohearfromyou! W e a r e o n F B : TheRainDropsE-MagazineispublishedbyMoksaPublishers. Thankyou, Editor raindropsemag@gmail.com moksapublishers@gmail.com h t t p s : / / w w w . f a c e b o o k . c o m / p a g e s / R a i n - D r o p s - E - Magazine/251592264855615?sk=wall Copyrights: All rights reserved © 2011 Cover Picture First Prize winner Ms. Anuja Khilari in Bal Chitra Mitra Competition held at Oxford Book Store On 17th December 2011 Edited by Dhara Kothari. Published by Moksa Publishers for Rain Drops. Designed by Biren Shah. Email: raindropsemag@gmail.com. Cell: +91-9619629092 / +91-9757274289 Editorial Page 2 Cryptogram Page 12 Cryptogram Hint and Solution Page 14 Bal Chitra Mitra Competition Page 17 - 27 - By Dhirendra Asthana Page 4 - By Dhirendra Asthana Page 5 Vendetta By Vishnu Vardhanan Page 6-12 The New Home Sweta Srivastava Vikram Page 13 Manjula Saxena Page 14 The Three Proverbs A story from Poland Page 15 The Lone Star Achuthan Sivadas Page 16 Bal Chitra Mitra Judge Painting Page 28
  3. 3. Dec 2011 4 5 - By Dhirendra Asthana - By Dhirendra Asthana Dec 2011
  4. 4. Vendetta - By Vishnu Vardhanan Vendetta - By Vishnu Vardhanan Dec 2011Dec 2011 6 7 Every breath of him insulted what she was and the life she lived. Every time his nostrils exchanged a fresh volume of oxygen it contaminatedeverybreathshedrewonearthnot long ago. The tiredness of the air he exhaled was almost tangible. It was heavy. It begged me to give the freedom it long desired as a result of running along his throat through the lungs. By the sound of it I sensed that it merited every bit a passionate kiss of the knife that glimmered between my fingers. What the hell am I waiting for? I decided to start scripting his end. I held the knifetight.Thatwasmyfirsttime. “First time...” the words echoed in my ears and tookmesomewhereelse. “Ever held a camera in hand,” were her first wordstome. Ishika, a busy model who had worked with more than half a dozen national clients and top brands demanded when the advertisement director, Milton, introduced me to her. A former Miss Chennai Title winner there was hardly anything to say about her looks. All she needed to do is to slightlybendthecurveofherlipsandleakasmile and with that even the most strongest of the hearts will be rocked and feel a 9 point Richter earthquake. Wow,aredcarpetwelcomeIthought. “Actually I never put the camera down,” I replied. It was true that I was too young for a photographer to be working in such a premium assignment and her curtness was very obvious. Even then I was offended. I could not hold back. I said, “You are so concerned. I thought models needed only good fashion to be successful, do theyneedaphotographer'sskilltoo?” Even then I said that she looked like someone who did not need anything like fashion, looks, right outfits or a good photographer's skills. Her conversing hazel eyes, full moon lit like face strands of hair like jumping waves proved more than enough. Every muscle of hers calmly proclaimed that she is a born model and the way shecarriedherselfconfirmediteveryminute. “Oh,really?”shesaidsarcasticallytome,”Inever knew,havingbeenworkedin17assignments.” She looked damn hot. But what was hottest of all was her tongue. It was ironically spitting fire at that moment and I was left to wage a private battle between my admiration for her and my wrathforherattitude. “Might as well be true. 17 assignments and someone complaining about angle, lighting, lipstick, make-up, outfits and above all a photographer doesn't fit together. A good model is presentable even when she is shot by an amateur kid holding the camera for the first time,”Ishotback. Herfacecontorted. “You were supposed to find a photographer, not some loony guy who just escaped from an asylum. Iaskedhisexperienceandseewhatheis blabbering?” She recorded her high opinion on metothedirector. I turned to the director and said,” I don't appreciate the attitude. Forget it Sir. She is nothing like a model,” I said. Her face reddened and her cheeks resembled a hybrid tomato that theyshowinrefrigeratoradvertisements. “Stupid,”shesaidvenomously. It stung me literally. I should have been cursing her instead my eyes were cherishing her reactions. Somehow she looked unbelievably beautiful to my eyes even in the height of her anger. My immediate instinct was to picture her emoting face with my right hand (I mean my camera) but then each frame of that moment was etchedpixelbypixelinmymind. I wondered what made me like her. Obviously, it was not her beauty. Being a photographer myself, in a single day I have the chance to come across the number of hot chicks and gorgeous babesthatotherscancomesacrossintheirentire lifetime. Bumping into a bright face or a curvaceous body for me was like getting stuck in Chennai traffic, logging into Face book or drinking a cup of coffee. Very common! For the first ever time I did not need a camera to capture amomentinmylife. His uneven gasps seeing the shining new knife did not help my uneasiness. I was nervous for it was the first time. But he did not show any such signandseemedveryfarfrombeingnervous. He was leaning on the wall inches away with his hands close to his chest. His body was shrunk with the shoulders drooping in front and his knees collapsing to the ground. An evenly distributed, visible shuddering embraced all of his body. He was never short of sobs and pleas, themoansandshrieksofatrappedanimal. I would have left him there and walked away had it been some other instance. But not now, after what he has done. Not after what happened to her. The air that I inhaled grew heavy and tightened my chest. I was unsure, dubious. I was representing the historic cat that sat on the wall dazed to jump, forming the reason for the cliché “catonthewall.” But somehow I had expected this. I had known all along how such hesitancy would cast its shadow upon me. The hesitancy which is purely as a result of the beliefs and morals society has injected into everyone without the individual's knowledge. I understood that the iron chains and the rusted bars of “code of conducts” and “Decorum” that had been soaked into our muscles and marrows right from childhood was questioning my act. More than the just and moral factor, the question, “Am I, the same man who said an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, just plotting a blood for blood revenge?” puzzledme. Or is that my mind's other dormant beast simply trying to pounce on its opportunity to satiate its violentbloodlustpart?Idon'tknow. Myinnervoicedeniedit. Yes, a revenge seeker would have grabbed some weapon and devoured this crook out of the surging emotions. A homicidal maniac would have tasted his blood and that of his partners-in- crime long before. I have not done any of it. I was cool headed. I read 4 or 5 odd books on murders, googled for an entire week about various brutal homicidal cases just to make sure that nothing resemblesandnonecomesevenclosetothis. This is definitely different. I carefully designed his trap, collected necessary equipment and finally chose his deathbed which is this very dimly lit dilapidated room. A sudden whim would have dissolved in days, a burning rage might have quelled in weeks but this sensation hadnot. Ithasstayed,stayedstrongandhardfor twolongmonthsnow. It has stayed, stayed strong and hard for two days. Her bitterness and the anger on me did not seem to have lost its teeth. “Miss, save those stares and words. I won't give a damn. Don't waste them on me,” I said when she was testing her “burning-someone-with-the-scornful-stare” ability. Her gaze grew more sharp and strong when my terseness fuelled her burning aspirations. But unruffled I added,” To get things straight, I have never taken a camera in my hand as I consider thatasmyrighthandthananequipment.” “Kind of prosthesis. I don't have to consciously pickitup,”Isaid. She scoffed at what I said with an air of smugness. Upon the director's persuasion I had come to the shooting spot againto face the fury of thisgorgeousyetviolenttornado. “That's the way I work, that's my style. If it's okay, we can defer this leg pulling game and move to the sets. Else If you are hard on for a photographer who is of an age with trembling hands and loads of experience, then I will bid adieuandwalkaway.” She did not seem to have a care in the world. “Sir, the outside world has enough moments waiting to be captured by my cherishing eyes and my hungry lens,” I finished turning to the director markingitasmyconclusion. Her rose petal like lips twitched to say something. It was evident from the sharpness of Vendetta
  5. 5. Vendetta - By Vishnu Vardhanan Vendetta - By Vishnu Vardhanan Dec 2011Dec 2011 8 9 her eyes that none of them would fall under “good to hear” category. Before words shot out ofhermouththedirectorbrokein. “Ishi, you got to see his portfolio. The angles and textures were like never seen before. His work is fresh and very new. I am sure that he will be an awesomevalueaddtothisproject. Justgetalong with him.” Before the director's veritable testimonyherfurycouldnotlastlong. “Decision is your's and the responsibility too is yourssir,”Shesaidandstormedoutoftheplace. After she went, “she is a very nice girl but I guess you both got off on the wrong foot,” the director said. “Anotherdayatofficedoesn'tmattersir,”Isaid. For the next 20 days the director, apart from conceiving ideas, had to play an extra role of being a jury to our never ending quarrels. My decision to shoot in real locations which sometimes comprised deserted; dilapidated old buildings and marshy forests didn't go well with her. Ishika thought I was doing all that just to teaseher. I have everything the plan, the apparatus and the lab rat except my volition to embark on the experiment. Meanwhile the rat seemed to have sensedthereluctanceanditpitchedin. “What. What did I do? What... do you... want...” hestuttered. With a firm voice I calmly said, “It is blood that I seek.” “We can... talk. Tell me. Tell me what this is about?”hesaid. This is not going to be easy. I normally hate questions. More worse, under such circumstancesIrepelleditlikeanything. Igavehimalong,hardstareandsaid, “September23...” “23...What...?” He was wiping drops of blood from the corners of his mouth after two minutes. He succeeded in getting me to the mood. His recklessness and negligence reinstated the belief on my decision. The first crack on the iron chains and rusted bars had been made. Having taken the first step I knew there was no looking back. No more doubts shrouded my mind and suddenly everything was clear. I was able to sense the fairnessofwhatwasabouttounfold. I looked up. He looked as if he had learnt that I can not be reasoned with. He stood there lost everything except for the fear of an impending expiry. He was weighing his chances of survival and looked around for an escape route. But for the sharp and blood lust lips of the knife I held, he would have fled pushing me aside or even wouldhavenothesitatedtopackmetothegrave. Having said all that, in some ways I owed him for what he was about to do (or is it what was going to be done on him)? I don't know. But the point is he deserved to know why he is going to die, the reason which has brought him the misfortune of beingslaughteredlikealittlestreetdog. “ISHIKA...”ISaid,“Remember...?” When the assignment was over and the project was delivered to the clients things were never the same. I was in home relaxing after the hectic schedule. The calling bell screamed to announce the intrusion of my privacy. Annoyed, I went to answer the door. To my surprise Ishika was standing there. She was wearing a Jean and a Casual Tee. Sunglasses perched above her forehead. Looking at her I had a big question. Was she beautiful because of the dress or is the dress beautiful because of her? I had a mini crisis. But recollecting myself, I invited her in. Shecameinandsatonthecouch. “Coffeeortea?Iasked. “Justaglassofwater,”shesaid. I handed her water bottle and asked, “Is it December21,2012?” “What?” “Imeanisitdoomsday?Istheworldgoingtoend today? When things like this happen one certainlyhasreasonstoaskthat.” She looked puzzled. “You are visiting my home? I meanwhatonearthishappening?”Isaid. She smiled, “Yes. I would have laughed at anyonewhomighthaveevenhintedthat.” “So...whathappened?Whatbringsyouhere?” She started with that trademark Girlie, “Well…Ummm...” and continued,” I got to see the photographs. And then clients called director,”Shesaid. “Oh, nice, what did they say? Are they happy aboutthework?” “You wouldn't want to hear that if you are don't want to loose your only good quality, humility,” Shesaid. “I thought you had change of hearts and going to befriendlywithme.” “Chill Buddy. Clients are very happy with the work. Especially the camera work. But that is not thereasonformychangeofhearts.” “Whatthen?” “I came here to tell you that you were wrong. A model does need a good photographer like 'you' topresentherselfwell.Thatwasevidentfromthe output and the feedback.” She continued, “You know what? The clients are so impressed that they have selected me for couple of their other product'sadvertisement.” “What's the logic? Photography is good and you aresignedfortwomoreprojects?” “Don't be jealous, boy. I told them that I only work in the project which has Mr.Gaurav as the photographer.” “We are working together again”, she said with an innocent genuine smile stemming out from her heart. Damn, she is the most beautiful thing I have seen. Ever! “Tell me this is not a dream. Loony guy to a favorite photographer is a long way,”Isaidwithamockamazement.Shesmiled. For a moment all his shuddering and his fears vanished out of pure astonishment which the name, Ishika, had instantly incited. Then again, in a matter of seconds, it slowly died bringing him back to his new found usual-self of frightfulness. “Oh…no…” “See. It's not my fault.” he said which gave me enough reasons to wave green flag for this trivial errand. He tried every possible defense for every step I tooktowardshim. “Don'tcomenearme.Wait.” “I...ICanexplain.It'sthem...Notme...” “Wedidnotkillher. Shekilledherself...” “WhatcanIdoifshecommitssuicide?” I was unmoved. I went ahead with a determinationandmyfistsclenched. “I don't know why she did that. It is...very commoninherprofession.” He was option less, helpless and finally when it boiled down to the bottom he cried out, “anyways...it was nothing new to her. What...Whatdoesitmatter?” “She….Sheis.....a…” What??? I did not know what could fill in. Neither did her. Ms. Ishika Arora, a top model turned actress carried the burden of being my lover apart from lending her name to the never ending gossips with her fellow actors. Now she had no time to carryout a single role. Model, actress, lover combined to define Ishika and taking any of that outwillnotservethepurposeofdefiningher. Earlier the second schedule proved completely different from that of the first. We were no more TomandJerrylike. Everydaybroughtuscloseto each other and at the end of the second assignment; I was standing at her door. She invited me in. The apartment was not big but looked good enough for her family. She took me toherroom.
  6. 6. Dec 2011Dec 2011 10 11 Vendetta - By Vishnu VardhananVendetta - By Vishnu Vardhanan Like any other Girl's room it was meticulous, thingskeptintheirplacesandwastidy. “Niceroom,”Isaid. “Thankyou,”shesaid. “ButIhateit,”Isaidasanyguywouldsay. “No wonder. You are accustomed to living in garbage.” She pounced on the opportunity. I staredatherresenting. “What? Those film roles all around the room, magazinespileduponthedesk,clothesadorning every corner. What would you say that. A room? In my world it is called garbage. She accused me. I kept silent. I came to her home in a romantic mood and almost rehearsed 15 different lines to propose her but all that she found to talk about was my room aka the garbage. Gosh, why the girlsarelikethisIwasmullingover. Brief seconds after with that thoughtful serious expression that is exclusively patented by girls she said,” May be I should drop by and clean your roomsometime.” And suddenly I stuck upon a better line. I did not think much and just threw it. I casually retorted, “Yeah, you should. Anyways home ministry is goingtobeyoursaftermarriage,right?” “Yes, true. I should be taking care of home later...” She said and later realized,” wait. Did yousayour...?” I was perplexed. Emotional grenades were exploding inside as the very thought of the chance of denial came to my mind. I composed myself and mustering all my courage, confidence Isaid, “Yes, Ms. Gorgeous. I came here to tell you that I can't hide my liking for you anymore. I don't know what you will think of me. But honestly I am not sure how or when it happened until one dayIfoundmyselfcrazilyinlovewithyou.” She gave that usual girls look which say I-did- not-think-of-you-like-that. I thought if she is not ok or if she doesn't like me its not a problem but I was praying that she should not say some nonsense like “I thought of you like my brother” andall. TocleartheairIcontinued, “Sorry, I know it's surprising. I just wanted to let you know my feelings as pretending to be normal betraying my real feelings was eating me away. I feltyououghttoknowthetruth.That'sit.” She thought for a while. “You don't want me to love you back?” she asked with a neutral tone thatdidnothintherreaction. “Not like that. I am making it clear that I am not pressuringyou. Ihatetobeabother,”Isaid. “Huh-Hmm…I see.” She said teasingly emphasizingonthat'Isee'. I hated that. She was making fun of my genuine emotions. “I don't know whether you are really this much good guy,” She mumbled as if saying it toherselfandaskedme. Alright,sothat'sit?” “Guessso. Whatelse?”Iasked. “Aren't you at least going to hold my hand and say some romantic thing. Any idea of handing me a rose or ring kneeling down and ask whether I want to marry you? A proposal is meant to be likethatright?”sheasked. “What,Idon'tunderstand,”Isaid. “Oh,comeon.Whyareyousostupid?”shesaid. I wanted to demand what her problem was and whycan'tshebedirect. ButIcouldnot. How could I when her lips were on mine. She leaned back after a brief seconds and looked straightintomyeyeswithaplayfullook. “So,isthatayes?Doyouloveme?”Iasked. I was kissed by one of the hottest asset of the country but yet my retarded mind was bothering to question her without realizing/cherishing whatjusthappened. “Ufff”,shefumed. “You badly need to grow up,” she said and slapped me again and again with her lips as a punishment. I could not have asked for a better punishment. Especiallyfromsomeonelikeher. He needed punishment that he dared to say something like that about her. I felt bizarre how the society looked at a girl who slightly break the norms and be herself. It surprised me how naive the society is to think that only a girl who covers her fully has good character. Isn't that mindset inflicted such a fate to Ishika? Isn't the character orvirtuesomethingpsychologicalthanphysical? His body fell on the floor thudding before he could complete the sentence. My hand cruised over his shoulders to his face and anchored itself on his cheek. The red liquid that was busy flooding the floor sort of made me feel better. There was no guilt. I wondered how the mere remark of her gave me the nerve. I found some peaceatlast. I thought about her. Her flashing smile unfurling, her sharp eyes penetrating me. It immediately made me say; “This is so damn right.” I told Ishika cinema is worst place for a girl to be in. Especially for some straight forward girl like her its simply wrong place. She did not listen she has achieved everything as a model earned every penny that can be earned but yet the stardom had hooked her. As I predicted she did not last long in cinema with her curtness. I would have celebrated her quitting movies had it not been the end of her life too. They say love teaches you compassion. It makes you kind hearted but now as I stand in this little room felt that love not only turns a beast into angel it also changes an angel into beast. Love not only kills oneself but it can make you kill others too if needed. After all, it doesn't matter whether it is a delicate flower or gory blood it's the same when the driving force proves to be love. Blood is also beautiful when it isbecauseoflove. He was semiconscious, moaning out of pain. I walked to the other side of the room. Opened the belly swelled bag. Unzipped it and took out the instruments, which are actually a collection of carefully chosen weapons, one after the other. I took out something which resembled a saw and took a final glimpse of him alive, his face to be precise. It had blood sprinkled all over and by the side of his shoulder a pool of red liquid had formed.Itlightenedmeup. Iwentnearhimandsaid,”SMILEPLEASE!” 2dayslater BRUTALMANSLAUGHTER,COPSPROBING. Chennai: A man, possibly of above 30, was found dead in Railway colony near the new suburbs yesterday. The dead body was dumped into a dustbin and has been found missing many of its body parts. According to Commissioner Office, the man was stabbed many times and possibly castrated and severely amputated. His right eye and left arm are missing. Also several of his fingers from both legs and hands have been removed. Postmortem reports suggest that the murder should have taken place before 13-14 hours. Cops have commenced a thorough investigation. Formoreturnpage8. I kept the newspaper down. I was sitting in the hall. The two swaying legs still did not vanish from my eyes that I saw when I entered this very living room on September 26. She was dangling from this very ceiling with her eyeballs fixed at the sky andpupilturnedgrey. I almost went crazy thinking what made her to hang herself. I hated life, myself and everything around me. Beard and the hair on my head had grownbushyenoughtohidemyface. There was no purpose for my living until one day. Her postmortem report fell on my eyes. It was dated 17 days after her death. It looked nothing more than a missing piece of her death puzzle. Few stacks of currency notes, my arm power, some blackmails, phone calls and little threat enlightenedme. I had thought I have seen the worst of life. But yet life said, Wait buddy, there are few more ugly pages. The postmortem report I mean the original one which had been kept under wraps said Ishika has been harassed before her death. Three different samples had been found on her body. Large sums of money had been paid by a big shot producer to avoid major head lines. A bitter rift with Ishika was all that needed for that bastard as the reason. His mistake gave me the purpose to my life now. All said and done only one thing remained. He needed to pay for his sin. Ishika deserved justice. More than that no more Ishikas should fall prey to this beast. With that resolve I went near his home to run the errand. The next day, a pair of hands that were found
  7. 7. Dec 2011Dec 2011 12 13 The New Home - Sweta Srivastava VikramVendetta - By Vishnu Vardhanan near the door of veteran producer Rajappa's home was the hot headlines. And his parking lot boasted somethingwritteninblood, ”Don't dare to see hell. Avoid knowing the meaning of cruelty. Better commit suicide in 2 days' time - smileplease!” Yes, I did not plan to kill him. He has been left with two choices. Either he should commit suicide as that of which he inflicted on Ishika or die the hell out of panic seeing how brutally his partners in crime are goingtodie. I unzipped the bag and took out my weapons again. His PA was tied to the chair at the end of the room withhisfaceturnedgrey. Anotherlabratatdisposal! vishnuvardhananms@gmail.com www.myblabs.in 1. JB KASYJKAN CJNITP BT YGIAKNBRGI CJNITP: BQA PYNJE JN GTBQJGX JO BQA RYIJAGEA JN IARO. 2. EUP KCTCN VCAV VDC MCGVD UJ Z NOTCN ROVD IUVD JCCV. 3. X SAQN NZPJB'V JABT SPFXWJP AV RXJ XB XBJKPQ, AV JABTJ SPFXWJP AV RXJ X JZBT. 4. ZGOGHQ MF Z FJVLQP FSXMQC DWJQ JTJXY UJZA MF Z AULDJX. 5. VRCGLM GRC SDDZMURGUSHEM... XRHL UNC QHHK IHZR MHZD SM ORSUSEY GQHZU IHZ. Crytogram Do roots call out as we get older? I don’t have all the answers. But I know when the smell of curry mingles with pumpkin pie, cinnamon ends the feud of belonging. I see the skin drink from the sun with delight, knowing two mothers ask for its love, prints of loyalty. As footsteps get cemented in The New Home, homelessness becomes a stranger. The New Home Sweta Srivastava Vikram (www.swetavikram.com) Cryptogram
  8. 8. Dec 2011 14 Hints and Solutions for Cryptogram 1. It requires wisdom to understand wisdom: the music is nothing if the audience is deaf. 2. You never test the depth of a river with both feet. 3. A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song. 4. Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. 5. Dreams are illustrations...from the book your soul is writing about you. Manjula Saxena 15 Dec 2011The Three Proverbs - A story from Poland A rich man was once walking about in his garden. He was cheerful and happy. Suddenly he noticed a small bird that had been captured in a small net. He took hold of it and was more than a little surprised when it began to speak, saying, "Give me my freedom, dear man! Of what use is it to you to lock me in a cage? Looking at me will not please you, for I do not have beautiful feathers. I cannot entertain you, for I do not sing like other birds. And I cannot provide you with nourishment. I am much too small for that. But I will tell you three wise teachings if you will give my freedom." The master of the garden looked at the little creature and said, "If you do not sing then of course you cannot entertain me. Let me hear your wisdom, and if it teaches me anything, I will give you your freedom." Then the little bird said, "First: Do not grieve over things that have already happened. Second: Do not wish for that which is unattainable. Third: Do not believe in that which cannot be possible." Then the master of the garden said, "You have indeed taught me something. I will give you your freedom." Letting the bird fly away, he thought seriously about its words. Then he heard it laughing quietly. Its voice came from a tree where the bird was sitting. "Why are you laughing so cheerfully?" shouted the man. "About my easily won freedom," answered the bird, "and more than that, about the foolishness of humans who believe they are smarter than all other creatures. If you had been smarter, only just as smart as I am, then you would now be the richest man." "How would that have been possible?" asked the master of the garden. The bird replied, "If, instead of giving me my freedom, you had kept me, for in my body I have a diamond the size of a hen's egg." The man stood there as though he were petrified. After recovering from the surprise, he began to speak, "You think that you are happy because I gave you your freedom. But summer will soon be over and winter with its storms will arrive. The brooks will freeze over, and you will not be able to find a single drop of water to quench your thirst. The fields will be covered with snow, and you will not find anything to eat. But I will give you a warm place where you can freely fly around, and you can have as much water and bread as you want. Come down, and I will show you that you are better off with me than with your freedom." Thus spoke the master of the garden, but the little bird laughed louder than before, making the man even angrier. "You are still laughing?" asked the man. "Of course," replied the bird. "See, you gave me my freedom on account of the teachings that I gave you, and now you are so foolish that you do not take the teachings to heart. I earned my freedom fairly, but you forgot my teachings after only a few minutes. You should not grieve over things that have already happened, but still you are grieving that you gave me my freedom. You should not wish for things that you cannot obtain, and yet you want me, for whom freedom is my whole life, to voluntarily enter a prison. You should not believe that which is impossible, and yet you believe that I am carrying about inside my body a diamond as large as a hen's egg, although I myself am only half the size of a hen's egg." And with that the bird flew away. The Three Proverbs
  9. 9. Dec 2011 Dec 2011 Anuja Anil Khilari (Frist Prize) Bal Chitra Mitra Competition 16 17 I look up at the sky, It is dark and gloomy. There is a lone star, It is my guiding star. Where it guides me to, I know not. Will I reach? I know not. If I reach, The star is mine. If I don't reach, The star is still mine. King or pauper, The star is mine. Gentle or sear, The star is mine. Achuthan Sivadas Email: achu_eks@yahoo.com Mobile: 9037718741 The Lone Star The Lone Star - Achuthan Sivadas
  10. 10. Dec 2011 Dec 2011 Shreya Ankush Jadhav(Third Prize) Bal Chitra Mitra Competition Bal Chitra Mitra Competition 18 19 Shreya Shenoy (Second Prize)
  11. 11. Dec 2011 Dec 2011 Rohitra Mistry(Judge Special Prize) Bal Chitra Mitra Competition Bal Chitra Mitra Competition 20 21 Aditya Anil Khilari(Consolation Prize)
  12. 12. Dec 2011 Dec 2011 Arnav Amit Thakoor Bal Chitra Mitra Competition Bal Chitra Mitra Competition 22 23 Sara
  13. 13. Dec 2011 Dec 2011 Mannya Sachin Parikh Bal Chitra Mitra Competition 24 25 Bal Chitra Mitra Competition Vritika Fenil Shah
  14. 14. Dec 2011 Dec 2011 Prithavi 26 27 Bal Chitra Mitra Competition Bal Chitra Mitra Competition Shambhavi Vishant Surve
  15. 15. Come create your own E-News Paper News, Features, Photos, Cartoons, Poem, Video, Kids, Fun Stuff Etc. Submit News and content through Submission form or email at whitedrums@gmail.com http://whitedrums.com S F E SNOW FLAKES ENTERPRISES Shop No. 8, Alankar Building, 31 Balaram Street, Grant Road (East), Mumbai 400 007 Tel:- (022) 23021625 Mobile: 9820408252 / 9323803995 9757274289 / 9619629092 E-Mail: Website: sfgj04@gmail.com sfgj04@yahoo.com http://www.snowflakes.in Sub-Broker of BSE, NSE, MCX Dec 2011 28 Chithra Mitra (Judge) - Painitng for Children Bal Chitra Mitra Competition