This week : The Most Beautiful Story
A beautiful story you have to tell us. Something you read, Something you listen, Something belongs to your tradition. Please share with us.
Storytelling is the only bridge left, when we see this Clash of Civilizations. This week, forum is about most beatiful story or stories.
3 weeks ago, I started a forum on poems. Now, I'm encouraging people to share their souls through storytelling, through art, through poetry.
PLEASE COPY/PASTE OR WRITE your most beautiful story here. It can be a personal stor
date
newest »
newest »
i have recd this story from one of my friend. i hope you will like it.
One day Maths teacher asked her students to list the names of the other
students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each
name.
Then she told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of
their classmates and write it down.
It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as
the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.
That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate
sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that
individual.
On Monday she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire
class was smiling. 'Really?' she heard whispered. 'I never knew that I meant
anything to anyone!' and, 'I didn't know others liked me so much,' were most
of the comments.
No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they
discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The
exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with
themselves and one another. That group of students moved on.
Several years later, one of the students was killed in
'Kargil' war and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student.
She had never attended Funeral of a serviceman before. He looked so
handsome, so mature.
The place was packed with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a
last walk. The teacher was the last one to bless .
As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to
her. 'Were you Sanjay's math teacher?' he asked. She nodded: 'yes.' Then he
said: 'Sanjay talked about you a lot..'
After the funeral, most of Sanjay's former classmates were there. Sanjay's
mother and father were there, obviously waiting to speak with his teacher.
'We want to show you something,' his father said, taking a wallet out of his
pocket 'They found this on Sanjay when he was killed. We thought you might
recognize it.'
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper
that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. The teacher
knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed
all the good things each of Sanjay's classmates had said about him.
'Thank you so much for doing that,' Sanjay's mother said. 'As you can see,
Sanjay treasured it.'
All of Sanjay's former classmates started to gather around. Arjun smiled
rather sheepishly and said, 'I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of
my desk at home.'
Prithwiraj's wife said, ' Prithwiraj asked me to put his in our wedding
album.'
'I have mine too,' Rashmi said. 'It's in my diary'
Then Deepali, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her
wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. 'I carry this
with me at all times,' Deepali said and without batting an eyelash, she
continued: 'I think we all saved our lists'
That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Sanjay and
for all his friends who would never see him again.
The density of people in society is so thick that we forget that life will
end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be.