May be I'm never going to Heaven...

Just after I published my post on an irritating colleague at work, I stumbled upon this beautiful story that inflicted enough pain in my heart.


An old man sold toys in the Baghdad market. Knowing that his sight was not quite perfect, his customers sometimes paid him with fake money.


The old man discovered the ruse, but did not say anything.
In his prayers he asked God to forgive those who cheated him.
“Perhaps they’re short of money and want to buy presents for their children,” he said to himself.


The time passed and the old man died. Standing before the gates of Heaven, he prayed once more:


- Lord! – he said. – I am a sinner. I did many wrong things, I am no better than the false coins I was paid. Forgive me!


At that moment the gates swung open and a Voice was heard:


- Forgive what? How can I judge someone who all through his life never once passed judgment on others?

I have judged. Lot of times. Lot of people.

I'll never go to Heaven.

Haven’t you ever lost someone?

Sometimes I wonder... why do some people fall in love over and over again...In and out of relationships, in and out of sorrows. Many people continue to love.
Some fail to do so. And I understand.
But to the ones, who continue loving, it's amazing how they do it! I read this somewhere (I don't remember where)

Haven’t you ever lost someone?

A man was walking along the road to Damascus. He recalled his lost love and his soul grieved.
“Pity on those who know love,” he thought. “They will never be happy, with the fear of losing the one they love.”
At that moment he heard a nightingale sing.
- Why do you act like that? – the man asked the nightingale. – Don’t you see that my beloved, who loved your song so much, is no longer here by my side?
- I sing because I am happy – answered the nightingale.
- Haven’t you ever lost someone? – the man insisted.
- Many times – answered the nightingale. – But my love still remains all the same.


And the man went on his way feeling more hopeful.

I think this is a very pretty picture of love. Love is such a mysterious emotion. Quaint yet so simple.
I think Love is contained in this magic cup that is always full to the brim. No matter how much we take away from the cup, there is still a full cup left behind.

Like a mother's love towards her beloved child.

What the hell

This morning I saw a man waiting for his chaffeur to come open his bloody door. The chaffeur got down from the car, leaving me wait behind him, ran to the backdoor and opened the door for the loser inside.
I hate it when people do that.
Why the hell can't people open the doors on their own? What do they think of themselves? I was so bloddy pissed off that I kept honking at him. That loser casually got down and looked at me. I stared back at him. I wanted to scoff at him. But I didn't.
Because he is a bloody loser.