The little things matter most in our life is what we ignore most.

32-degree Celsius outside drove in an A.C. car and reached the destination. Our destination was the Mayong police station where the Pavakati Nsk is situated. The drive was pleasant with the natural and scenic beauty of the Pobitora Sanctuary which is famous for one-horned Rhino along with The Kaziranga National park. Both sides of the road are covered with the seasonal flood water which looks astounding. The road to the destination is very hilarious sitting inside the car. It took us one and half hour to reach there.

 

 

We have reached the Pavakati Nsk but they do not seem to care much. They were sitting inside of the room sitting under the electric fans. As it was the afternoon time the sun was over our head and it is drinking our energy to light its fire. The LRCR or the head couldn’t manage a chair for us and we were given to sit in the verandah with a shaky and worn out desk-bench without any source of artificial air. As we were very much used to the mechanical air, our face, hand, and whole body were filled with diamond droplets of sweat. He was not cooperative with us and forget the golden teaching that ‘Atithi Devo Bhava’ or ‘The guest is like God’ in English. When somebody comes to your home or workplace than at least show some respect.

 

Sometimes even I fall in to guilty of the above phrase. When my wife’s girlfriends arrive at our home for some hours of gossip and conversation, I sometimes don’t talk to them. Not because that I don’t like them or because they are wasting our time, energy or money. But because I am an introvert person and am not fully prepared every time to talk with the extrovert friends of my wife. Two days ago one of her friend visited our home after many years with her son. She also asked about me and my wife told that I am in the house reading a book. Many time my wife told me to talk to her and ask her well being. But that day I was so hesitant and introverted that I couldn’t come out of my room and talk with her. I felt very much guilty because of it and managed to talk to her when she was leaving our home.

 

 

I want to finish tody’s writing with a short story whose author I have forgotten which I have read in a newspaper article. The writer writes, ” We were many children and my mother have to do all the works alone. She works the whole day and even at night. That day, she has done more work than the other days and has to cook the meal for every one of us including our father. Father arrived at nine o clock after the work. She cooked only a bread and toast for him. The bread was so overcooked that it almost became ash. Father came and sat to eat, the mother gave the overcooked, ash-like bread and to my surprise, he ate it with great pleasure. I thought he was going to scold her. At the bed I asked him, do you like to eat overcooked, ash-like bread to eat? With a pleasant smile, my father replied. No, not at all. But your mother has been working very hard all day for us and therefore we shouldn’t complain about trivial things which will hurt others feelings. Besides, eating an overcooked bread does nothing harmful to my health.

From that day I have tried not to complain or brag at everything and learned the lesson which will remain with me for the lifetime.”

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