Touching Heart



When you divorce me, carry me out in your arms . . .

On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The bridal car stopped in front of our one-room flat. My buddies insisted that I carry her out of the car in my arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then plump and shy. I was a strong and happy bridegroom.

This was the scene of ten years ago.

The following days were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid; I went into business and tried to make more money. When the assets were steadily increasing, the affections between u seemed to ebb. She was a civil servant. Every morning we left home together and got home almost at the same time. Our kid was studying in a boarding school.

Our marriage life seemed to be enviably happy.! But the calm life was more likely to be affected by unpredictable changes.

Then Dew (name) came into my life

It was a sunny day. I stood on a spacious balcony. Dew hugged me from behind. My heart once again was immersed in her stream of love. This was the apartment I bought for her.

Dew said, “You are the kind of man who best draws girls’ eyeballs. Her words suddenly reminded me of my wife. When we just married, my wife said, “Men like you, once successful, will be very attractive to girls.” Thinking of this, I became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my wife. But I couldn’t help doing so.

I moved Dew’s hands aside and said,” You go to select some furniture, O.K.?

I’ve got something to do in the company.” Obviously she was unhappy, because I had promised to go and see it with her. At the moment, the idea of divorce became clearer in my mind although it used to be something impossible to me.

However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife about it. No matter how mildly I mentioned it to her, she would be deeply hurt. Honestly, she was a good wife. Every evening she was busy with work around the house. I was sitting in front of the TV. Then we watched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the computer, visualizing Dew’s body. This was the means of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slight joking way, “suppose we divorce, what will you do?”

She stared at me for a few seconds without a word. Apparently she believed that ‘divorce’ was something too far away from her. I couldn’t imagine how she would react once she got to know I was serious.

When my wife went to my office, Dew had just stepped out. Almost all the staff looked at my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide something while talking with her. She seemed to have got some hint. She gently smiled at my subordinates. But I read some hurt in her eyes.

Once again, Dew said to me, “He Ning, divorce her, O.K.? Then we live together.” I nodded. I knew I could not hesitate any more.

When my wife served the last dish, I held her hand. “I’ve got something to tell you,” I said.

She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. “I want a
divorce.” I raised a serious topic calmly. She didn’t seem to be much annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, “why..?”.

“I’m serious.” I avoided her question. This so-called answer turned her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, “you are not a man!”.

And that night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer, because my heart had gone to Dew.

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then
tore it into pieces. I felt a pain in my heart. The woman who had been living ten years with me would become a stranger one day. But I could not take back what I had said.

Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer.

A late night, I came back home after entertaining my clients. I saw her writing something at the table. I fell asleep fast. When I woke up, I found she was still there. I turned over and was asleep again.

She brought up her divorce conditions: she didn’t want anything from me, but I was supposed to give her one month’s time before the divorce, and in the month’s time we must live as normal life as possible. Her reason was simple: our son would finish his summer vacation a month later and she didn’t want him to see our marriage was broken.

She passed me the agreement she drafted, and then asked me, “He Ning, do you still remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding day?” This question suddenly brought back all those wonderful memories to me.

I nodded and said, “I remember..”.

“You carried me in your arms”, she continued, “so, I have a requirement, that is, you carry me out in your arms on the day when we divorce. From now to the end of this
month, you must carry me out from the bedroom to the door every morning.”

I accepted with a smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished to end her marriage with a romantic form.

I told Dew about my wife’s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. “No matter what tricks she does, she has to face the result of divorce,” she said scornfully. Her words more or less made me feel uncomfortable.

My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention.

I carried her out for the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, “daddy is holding mummy in his arms.” His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, “Let us start from today, don’t tell our son. “I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus, I drove to office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. We were so close that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this intimate woman carefully for a long time. I found she was not young any more. There were some fine wrinkles on her face.

On the third day, she whispered to me, “The outside garden is being demolished. Be careful when you pass there.”

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel that we were still an intimate couple and I was holding my sweetheart in my arms. The visualization of Dew became vaguer.

On the fifth and sixth day, she kept reminding me something, such as, where she put the ironed shirts, I should be careful while looking, etc. I nodded. The sense of intimacy was even stronger.

I didn’t tell Dew about this.

I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. I said to her, “It seems not difficult to carry you now.”

She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a few but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, “All my dresses have grown fatter.” I smiled. But I suddenly realized that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily, not because I was stronger. I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her heart. Again, I felt a sense of pain. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her head.

Our son came in at the moment. “Dad, it’s time to carry mum out.” He said. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had been an essential part of his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face because I was afraid I would change my mind at the last minute. I held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, as if we came back to our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad.

On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. She said, “Actually I hope you will hold me in your arms until we are old..”

I held her tightly and said, “Both you and I didn’t notice that our life was lack of such intimacy.”

I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my decision. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door. I said to her, “Sorry, Dew, I won’t divorce. I’m serious.”

She looked at me, astonished. Then she touched my forehead. “You got no fever.” She said. I moved her hand off my head. “Sorry, Dew,” I said, “I can only say sorry to you, I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of life, not because we didn’t love each other any more. Now I understand that since I carried her into the home, she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to hold her until I am old. So I have to say sorry to you..”

Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove to the office.

When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet for my wife which was her favorite. The salesgirl asked me to write the greeting words on the card. I smiled and wrote, “I’ll carry you out every morning until we are old . . .”


An eight-year-old child heard her parents talking about her little brother. All she knew was that he was very sick and they had no money left. They were moving to a smaller house because they could not afford to stay in the present house after paying the doctor’s bills. Only a very costly surgery could save him now and there was no one to loan them the money.

When she heard daddy say to her tearful mother with whispered desperation, ‘Only a miracle can save him now’, the child went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jar from its hiding place in the closet. She poured all the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Clutching the precious jar tightly, she slipped out the back door and made her way six blocks to the local drug Store. She took a quarter from her jar and placed it on the glass counter.

“And what do you want?” asked the pharmacist. “It’s for my little brother,” the girl answered back. “He’s really really sick and I want to buy a miracle.”

“I beg your pardon?” said the pharmacist. “His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my daddy says only a miracle can save him. So how much does a miracle cost?”

“We don’t sell miracles here, child. I’m sorry,” the pharmacist said, smiling sadly at the little girl.

“Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn’t enough, I can try and get some more. Just tell me how much it costs.”

In the shop was a well-dressed customer. He stooped down and asked the little girl, “What kind of a miracle does you brother need?”

“I don’t know,” she replied with her eyes welling up. “He’s really sick and mommy says he needs an operation. But my daddy can’t pay for it, so I have brought my savings”.

“How much do you have?” asked the man.

“One dollar and eleven cents, but I can try and get some more”, she answered barely audibly.

“Well, what a coincidence,” smiled the man. “A dollar and eleven cents the exact price of a miracle for little brothers.” He took her money in one hand and held her hand with the other. He said, “Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let’s see if I have the kind of miracle you need.” That well-dressed man was Dr Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed without charge and it wasn’t long before Andrew was home again and doing well.

“That surgery,” her mom whispered, “was a real miracle. I wonder how much it would have cost?” The little girl smiled. She knew exactly how much the miracle cost one dollar and eleven cents … plus the faith of a little child.

–This is just a touching story but not seems to be true as reported by www.breakthechain.org

P.S: But such incidents occur and keep occurring till Love and Humanity exists in this world.

–cheers–


A touching story and a good reminder: “Take time to appreciate what you have now.”

 

On the last day before Christmas, I hurried to go to the supermarket to buy the remaining of the gift I didn’t Manage to buy earlier. When I saw all the people there, I started to complain to myself,” It is going to take forever here and I still have so Many other places to go. Christmas really is getting more and more annoying every year. How I wish I could just lie down, go to sleep and only wake up after it…”

Nonetheless, I made my way to the toy section, and there I started to curse the prices, wondering if after all kids really play with such expensive toys. While looking in the toy section, I noticed a small Boy of about 5 years old, pressing a doll against his chest. He kept on touching the hair of the doll and looked so sad. I wondered who this doll was for.

Then the little boy Turned to the old woman next to him, ” Granny, are you sure I don’t have enough money?”

The old lady replied, “You know that you don’t have enough money to buy this doll, my dear.” Then she asked him to stay here for 5 minutes while she went to look around. She left quickly. The little boy was still holding the doll in his hand.

Finally, I started to walk toward him and I asked him who he wanted to give this doll to. “It is the doll that my sister loved most and wanted So much for this Christmas. She was so sure that Santa Claus would bring it to her.”

I replied to him that maybe Santa Claus will bring it to her, after all, and not to worry.

But he replied to me sadly. “No, Santa Claus can not bring it to her where she is now. I have to give the doll to my Mother so that she can give it to her when she goes there.” His eyes were so sad while saying this. “My sister has gone to be with God. Daddy says That Mummy will also go to see God very soon, so I thought that she could bring the doll with her to give it to my sister.”

My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said, “I told daddy to tell mummy not to go yet. I asked him to wait until I come back from the supermarket.”

Then he showed me a very nice photo of him where he was laughing. He then told me, “I also want mummy to take this photo with her so that she will not forget me.” I love my mummy and I wish she doesn’t have to leave me but daddy says that she has to go to be with my little sister.”


Then he looked again at the doll with sad eyes, very quietly.


I quickly reached for my wallet and took a few notes and said to the boy, “What if we checked again, just in case if you have enough money?”


“Ok,” he said. “I hope that I have enough.”


I added some of my money to his without him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough for the doll, and even some spare money.


The little boy said, “Thank you God for giving me enough money.”

Then he looked at me and added, “I asked yesterday before I slept for God to make sure I have enough money to buy this doll so that mummy can give it to my sister. He heard me.” “I also wanted to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mummy, but I didn’t Dare to ask God too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll and the white rose.”


“You know, my mummy loves white rose.” A few minutes later, the old lady came again and I Left with my trolley. I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I started. I couldn’t get the little boy out of my Mind.

Then I remembered a local newspaper article 2 days Ago, which mentioned of a drunken man in a truck who hit a car where there was one young lady and a little girl.


The little girl died Right away, and the mother was left in a critical state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the life-assisting machine, because the young lady would not be able to get out of the coma. Was this the family of the little boy?

Two days after this encounter with the little boy, I Read in the newspaper that the young lady had passed away. I couldn’t stop myself and went to buy a bunch of White roses and I went to the mortuary where the body of the young Woman was exposed for people to see and make last wish before burial.


She was there, in her coffin, holding a beautiful white rose in her Hand with the photo of the little boy and the doll placed over her Chest.


I left the place crying, feeling that my life had been changed forever. The love that this little boy had for his Mother and his sister is still, to that day, hard to imagine. And in A fraction of a second, a drunken man had taken all this away from him.

——collected from http://www.funlok.com —–


storyIt was raining heavily outside. Dark clouds gathered in the sky and nature was in its ominous best. I took a break from my work and went to the pantry to grab a cup of coffee. I had a sip and went near the window to see the rain pouring down heavily outside the glass structure. I was inside our huge office building, unruffled by even the fierceness of the nature. Through the heavy transparent glass, I could see a small girl trying to hold on to her umbrella which the wind was snatching away from her. I felt sorry for the girl, and was happy that I was not in a similar pathetic situation. Yes. I take pride for the fact that I am a software engineer. . I have everything which a common man would envy; money, status, respect, you name it I have it. I always wanted to be software professional and here I am, working for one of the best firms in the world. But then, am I really happy? Now, I could see an imprint of my palm on the other glass window, through which I reminisced my past, basked in the warmth of the sun shine.

My childhood was so much of fun. I vividly remember those rainy days, when I hugged my mother tightly during sleeping listening to all the stories told by her. Now, I have a big house here, but then it is just a house, not a home. My parents are pretty far away from me now. I have a cell phone to talk to them everyday, but then I really miss those dinners which I had with my family everyday. I could easily afford to taste all the different cuisines these days, but the best of food there, lack the love and affection which is present in the food prepared by my mother.

I threw a lavish party for my colleagues for my birthday, but then they would never replace the birthdays when my friends secretly brought a cake and at the end, half of the cake would have ended up on my face. The couple of hundred bucks that u save for a long period just to give a treat to your friends in the road side chat shop can never give the pleasure even after spending a few thousand bucks these days.

The scene of me crying and refusing to have dinner on the day when I fought with my best friend came to my mind. Today, she has gone far away from me, taking away my love and with it my life, but I am sitting and coding here with a false smile on my face. Everyday I meet new people, but then I long ceased to make a new friend.

It’s true that I have a lot of things now. I have a nice bed, but no time to sleep. Lots of money, but no friends to spend it with. The latest designer clothes, but a worn out body. Quite a few to flirt, but no one to love. Awards for technical excellence, but no reward for the crave for peaceful ambience. A confident demeanor, but a reluctant and apathetic mind. Full of rain, but no sunshine even in the farthest distance.

Now, I could see the small girl on the road enjoying in the rain with her umbrella firmly in her grip. She might not have all the comforts which I have, but then she has the innocence and fun which I lost a long time back. I have decided to come out of this false fantasy, even if it is at the expense of losing the tap of the software engineer. I am going to again enjoy my life. I am going to go out in the rain and play with the small kid now. I removed my tie, and went near my computer to shut it down. Just then, I saw a new mail alert in my mail box. I slowly opened outlook and I found a message from my manager with an attachment saying that there was a critical defect in the code and I have to fix it soon. I convinced myself that I am not going to get bogged down again by these pressures and stick to my decision. I ignored the mail and went to the rest room. After a couple of minutes, the software engineer in me came out, his shirt tucked in with the perfect tie knot, sat before the computer, and started typing,

–Collected from an email—cheers~

🙂


When I saw your name next to mine,

In our wedding card,

I felt blessed.

When I saw you smile,

Seeing me in the traditional bride groom dress,

I felt teased.


When I held your hand,

During the marriage rituals,

I felt responsible.

When you entered my lonely bachelor life,

And changed it into a heavenly abode,

I felt lucky.

When you showed the same love as I did,

Towards my parents,

I felt proud.

When you scolded me,

For neglecting my heath amidst my hectic work,

I felt pampered.

When I saw you scream,

Crying out of labor pains,

I felt helpless.

When I saw tears of happiness in your eyes,

As you looked at our kid,

I felt blessed once again.

All these feeling have bloomed in my heart,

But are yet to blossom in reality.

As these are feelings I long to feel,

For these are still unfelt.

Will you marry me….???

— cheers —

🙂


Its 7: 30 a.m. and I stand here in the bus stop waiting for the office bus to arrive. I stand here in the same manner as I did a few years back waiting for my college bus. Little did I know then that things would change so much in 2 years; the sky under which I am standing seems to be looking at me and smiling .. It is perhaps the only thing that has acted as a witness .. watching the transformation of a loud and bubbly person into a quiet professional.

I wouldn’t blame the professionalism for the change though. It is destiny, or may be you could call it life. Yes Life, esoteric in the true sense, for one does not understand why you meet hundreds of people everyday, work with so many, and still remain lonely.

I am now in one of the corner seats in the bus, looking out of the window watching people trying to catch up with “life” .. It’s an hour’s journey and the only company that I generally have is the chatter of the RJ. I seldom notice the person sitting next to me, for its going to be yet another stranger or may be you could say another acquaintance. It is annoying at times when the radio is switched off, not because I am cut off from the melody but because I would now be thrust with thoughts of the solitary journey ahead.

I can’t help thinking about the short bus journeys to college … well it’s a paradox to call a distance of 30 KMs “short”, but that is how it always seemed. A typical college day always begins in the bus with all the familiar faces; you look forward for all your friends to get in from the various stops, the reasonless giggles, the loud laughter that were stifled to avert the eyes of the lecturers and professors who would watch on us as if we were their prospective prey for the day … well as I said it was a different life then. The pleasant memories of college are in itself good enough to save me from the misery of the bus journey.

I notice that it is time for me to get down and flash my smile of acknowledgement to all the known strangers that I see as I approach my cubicle. A few of my colleagues greet me with their morning wishes and as always, we exchange our pleasantries. Discussions jump to the weekend plans and I wonder what I’d do over the weekend.

It would be just another day staring at the mobile, wishing it would ring and bring back some wonderful moments that are now missing in life or maybe the safer option would be to come to office, for it’s my new founded asylum these days. A few years back, weekends or weekdays didn’t matter to me, I was always busy. I always stood doubting the authenticity of the wall clock that seemed to be in running too fast to perceive its movement. Alas, now it seems as though my clock is suffering from some kind of paralytic attack.

There is a time in life, where one needs to go ahead, leaving behind your friends and carrying along only memories. You do make new friends, but then you never get the old close ones … you do meet people who’d be so good to you that you could tell them anything and everything, but you do not find a person to whom you needn’t say things … friends who just know you. Occasional calls from such friends, have been the only thing that I seem to look forward to ….However,I cant help but notice the uneasy pause that lingers around the conversation ..A pause not because of the relationship, but because it is too short a duration to say everything, and of course you cannot completely rule out the paucity of words!

As I sip coffee from the ubiquitous coffee mug, watching the drops of rain, trickling down the tinted glass panes, veiling the scenic beauty outside, I tell myself, may be there will be a day when things will change, when life will offer a rewind, a recap of all the events and I just have to wait.

Capricious are the ways of life, for I know there would be many who’d be able to empathize with me, ironically, even the dear ones that I miss this moment, waiting perhaps…!!

And I keep on waiting……

———

~isn’t it true for you out there~ 🙂 ~cheers~


ONE BEDROOM FLAT… AN INDIAN SOFTWARE ENGINEER’S LIFE… – A Bitter Reality


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

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

My father was a government employee and after his retirement, the only asset he could acquire was a decent one bedroom flat. I wanted to do some thing more than him. I started feeling homesick and lonely as the time passed. I used to call home and speak to my parents every week using cheap international phone cards. Two years passed, two years of Burgers at McDonald’s and pizzas and discos and 2 years watching the foreign exchange rate getting happy whenever the Rupee value went down.

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

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

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

Every year I decide to go to India. But part work part monetary conditions prevented it. Years went by and visiting India was a distant dream. Then suddenly one day I got a message that my parents were seriously sick. I tried but I couldn’t get any holidays and thus could not go to India.

The next message I got was my parents had passed away and as there was no one to do the last rights the society members had done whatever they could.

I was depressed. My parents had passed away without seeing their grand children.

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

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

Time passed by, my daughter decided to get married to an American and my son was happy living in USA. I decided that had enough and wound-up every thing and returned to India. I had just enough money to buy a decent 02 bedroom flat in a well-developed locality. Now I am 60 years old and the only time I go out of the flat is for the routine visit to the nearby temple. My faithful wife has also left me and gone to the holy abode.

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

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

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

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

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

—–

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