<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854915281215864259</id><updated>2012-02-16T19:43:49.510+05:30</updated><category term='doctor'/><category term='old'/><category term='small'/><category term='laughter shows'/><category term='terrorist'/><category term='treatment'/><category term='hostel'/><category term='asthma'/><category term='television'/><category term='reality shows'/><category term='life'/><category term='medical'/><category term='all india radio'/><category term='decision'/><category term='heart attack'/><category term='charity'/><category term='akshvani'/><category term='festival'/><category term='attack. mumbai'/><category term='old man'/><category term='little'/><category term='kolkata'/><category term='bullet'/><category term='good samaritan'/><category term='sri lanka broadcating corporation'/><category term='taj'/><category term='patient'/><category term='days'/><title type='text'>My Life My Blogs</title><subtitle type='html'>Incidents which took place in my life. No fictions, but all real life stories. May be tragedy, may be comedy or even with some moral or teachings... Try to enjoy the read.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sandy-storm.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854915281215864259/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sandy-storm.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zynFaiiYrxQ/Sj5bPNUf3-I/AAAAAAAAAak/Ifsrgdl8F1s/S220/SANDY.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854915281215864259.post-301016654091475698</id><published>2009-11-27T02:06:00.008+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-27T02:46:00.570+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='taj'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='terrorist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='attack. mumbai'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bullet'/><title type='text'>My Life... My fate</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zynFaiiYrxQ/Sw7stbobUUI/AAAAAAAAAco/UMa4mOaQ4s4/s1600/TAJ1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zynFaiiYrxQ/Sw7stbobUUI/AAAAAAAAAco/UMa4mOaQ4s4/s320/TAJ1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408520467774132546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;  &lt;span&gt;One year has passed now. Mumbai got back to normalcy again.... Hotal Taj repaired, renovated &amp;amp; back to life again. But wounds in some hearts are still open &amp;amp; burning with agony... Hearts of those who had lost one or more of their family members that night. Hearts of those wives... those mothers.... those sisters, who had lost their brave husbands, sons or brothers, fighting against those evils. How could they forget that night of terror &amp;amp; tremor?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;This post is just a tribute to all known and unknown persons who lost their lives that night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;Lets pray... that black night of massacre don't come again... Amen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"&gt;**********************************************************************  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;  Vroommm ! The sound of a gun-shot broke the silence of midnight It was fired from one of the commandoes That bullet hit the wall of nearby building, got reflected and fell on the ground, just by my side where I am laying counting my last breaths "He" is also a "bullet" just like me. The only difference... he is fired by a true, patriot and brave soldier and me, came from an evil, cruel militant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I smiled at him, but he turned his face throwing a glance of hatred and anger at me. It did not surprise me, as it always happens with me. But how he recognized me? How did he know that I belong to those militants? Oh, yes... Its because I am not made in this country. I came from somewhere, thousands of miles away from this country, just to kill some innocent people. I was lucky that it was an aimless firing by them and I just fell on the ground without hurting anybody&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;  I have hated myself throughout my life. Not because I am a bullet, but for being in the wrong hands. From the very first day of my inception, I was destined to kill some innocent people. I never liked it, but does the liking or disliking of a bullet ever matters to any human being? We are made to kill... made to hit... but we are not supposed to chose our target. We are just servants or may be slaves in the hands of our masters. Our masters, who decide where to aim, what to target, which one to kill? Where ever our masters target us, we are supposed to hit it and do the maximum damage. This is our destiny... our fate... A servant, a slave has no right to protest... no right to tell his master that he is doing wrong. They are only made to obey the orders... orders of their masters, no matter right or wrong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;  The day I came to this country, I have started loving these people. They are so true, so innocent, but a bullet is not supposed to love. At least, I came here to spread terror and hate... not love. I was so helpless... I couldn't even tell them to be aware of me. I am so dangerous...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;  The sound of gun shots and grenades intensified. I looked at him, by my side; He was looking at his masters. His face full of pride for his masters, who are fighting bravely against my masters and my masters... the cruel ones... the evil ones... are now hiding inside a building, like cowards A wave of rage, anger and hatred passed throughout my body.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard, someone saying, "It's just a matter of few hours now, and we will defeat those cowards "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt a bit relieved... relieved ! that there will be an end to this terror now, for the time being at least. For the last time I looked at his face and closed my eyes waiting for the dawn or may be for death whichever comes first &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;" &gt;..!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4854915281215864259-301016654091475698?l=sandy-storm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sandy-storm.blogspot.com/feeds/301016654091475698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854915281215864259&amp;postID=301016654091475698' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854915281215864259/posts/default/301016654091475698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854915281215864259/posts/default/301016654091475698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sandy-storm.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-life-my-fate.html' title='My Life... My fate'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zynFaiiYrxQ/Sj5bPNUf3-I/AAAAAAAAAak/Ifsrgdl8F1s/S220/SANDY.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zynFaiiYrxQ/Sw7stbobUUI/AAAAAAAAAco/UMa4mOaQ4s4/s72-c/TAJ1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854915281215864259.post-4221558861481336987</id><published>2009-06-21T20:56:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-21T21:26:44.912+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='days'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reality shows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='festival'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sri lanka broadcating corporation'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good samaritan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='television'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='all india radio'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='akshvani'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laughter shows'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kolkata'/><title type='text'>Those Good Old days</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt;मै&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt;और&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt;मेरी&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt;तन्हाई&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt;अक्सर&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt;ये&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt;बातें&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt;करते&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt;हैं&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"  &gt;......&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; 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 &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;…yes. Me and my solitude always talk about this. This is about the time when I was very young. Though I am still young, but it is about 25 to 30 years ago, when I was stepping towards getting young. That was the age of no television, but only radio. I recall the time when in the morning, I use to open my eyes in the bed with the sweet melodious signature tune of All India Radio. I lay on the bed listening to the recital of Vande-Mataram and devotional songs. I used to have my break-fast with the old melodies of Hindi films from Sri Lanka Broadcasting Corporation and finishing it with the song of late K.L. Sehgal at &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="8"&gt;8 AM&lt;/st1:time&gt;. We always knew, when it was the first day of month, as Sri Lanka radio used to broadcast the song "Aaj Pehli Tareekh hai...." on that day, without fail.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;In the evening we have to study from &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="19"&gt;7PM&lt;/st1:time&gt; to &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="21"&gt;9PM&lt;/st1:time&gt; and my ears used to get fixed to the radio right from 8.45, the news time. I eagerly wait for the beeps at 9, so that I could pack-up and go for dinner. After dinner it was the time for Akashvani Kolkata programmes. The famous one at that time was “Chhaya-Chhobir Gaan” (Film songs) on gramophone records. …and my father used to call it a day, when Mr. Shurojit Sen stop reading the news at &lt;st1:time minute="10" hour="23"&gt;11.10 PM&lt;/st1:time&gt;. That was the bed-time for us.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;This was the time when we barely need to look at the clock, as if our whole day schedule was bound with the radio programmes. Even then we had plenty of time for all social activities. We used to study, we used to play, go to films, meet our relatives &amp;amp; neighbours and celebrate every festival with full enthusiasm. We were never late for any appointment and most important, we never complained about the shortage of time in our lives.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Time changed…. Life became busy; even 24 hours seem to be less for a days work. The good old radio disappeared from our lives and hundreds of satellite channels took over. Now the day starts with “Beedi Jalai Le….” And one starts searching for his cigarette packet and lighter from the bed. The day passes with several gossips and implausible stories created by the news channels. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The evening comes with some Saas, Bahoos… multi marriages… and memory loss serials. At dinner time our eyes get fixed on TV screen watching some Very Unreal “Reality Shows” and so-called laughter shows (in which one has to find a reason to smile {not laugh} at least). Our bed time is decided by these serials and shows. Akashvani Kolkata has been taken over by some Bangla channels, which are doing nothing but mimicking other Hindi channels.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Now we don’t have time to go to cinemas, so we bring DVDs at home. We have forgotten our social obligations. We could hardly spare some time to meet our relatives, and that too once in a year or two. We never try to find out, who is residing at our neighbourhood. We celebrate the festivals like liability, just because, they are meant to be celebrated. After all we don’t have time for all these age old traditions.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Really… the time has changed or, as we think… time has shriveled.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4854915281215864259-4221558861481336987?l=sandy-storm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sandy-storm.blogspot.com/feeds/4221558861481336987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854915281215864259&amp;postID=4221558861481336987' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854915281215864259/posts/default/4221558861481336987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854915281215864259/posts/default/4221558861481336987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sandy-storm.blogspot.com/2009/06/those-good-old-days.html' title='Those Good Old days'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zynFaiiYrxQ/Sj5bPNUf3-I/AAAAAAAAAak/Ifsrgdl8F1s/S220/SANDY.jpg'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854915281215864259.post-921653975611655991</id><published>2008-07-19T15:11:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-19T03:39:06.345+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doctor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='charity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='good samaritan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='old man'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hostel'/><title type='text'>Age No Bar</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;            Yesterday, while on my way to office, I was stopped by an old gentleman standing by the side of the road. He was a decently dressed gentleman in his late seventies. He was sweating and breathing heavily, due to scorching heat and the sun. From his condition it was clear that he was hardly able to walk anymore. He wanted a lift, for which I happily agreed. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;On our way, he asked me to drop him in front of a nearby working women's hostel. Just out of curiosity, I asked him the reason for visiting there. He replied, "I am Dr. Shukla, a retired Civil Surgeon from the district hospital. I go there every week for the routine check-up of the hostellers." I asked him "Was it necessary for an old man like you, to go there today in such a summer heat. You are still sweating heavily." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The old gentleman smiled and replied," Everyday I have to visit some of these hostels and orphanages.&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;If I had not gone there today, there turn would have come next week. After all, they keep waiting for me." There was a long pause, then he broke the silence "...... and I am not doing it for money. I do it for charity and for my satisfaction only."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I was stunned.... I was shocked... I was speechless... Felt ashamed for my earlier views about him, felt myself too small in front of this human being. I could not utter a single word for the rest of the way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-indent: 0.5in; text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;We reached his destination. He got off and headed towards the gate of the hostel, thanking me and blessing me. I could not say a word... only silently saluted the generosity and devotion of this old man. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4854915281215864259-921653975611655991?l=sandy-storm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sandy-storm.blogspot.com/feeds/921653975611655991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854915281215864259&amp;postID=921653975611655991' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854915281215864259/posts/default/921653975611655991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854915281215864259/posts/default/921653975611655991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sandy-storm.blogspot.com/2008/07/age-no-bar.html' title='Age No Bar'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zynFaiiYrxQ/Sj5bPNUf3-I/AAAAAAAAAak/Ifsrgdl8F1s/S220/SANDY.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4854915281215864259.post-2918433964189301844</id><published>2008-04-06T01:58:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-19T03:37:44.327+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='small'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doctor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='decision'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='patient'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heart attack'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='little'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='asthma'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='treatment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medical'/><title type='text'>Life's Small Decisions</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;    My father is an asthma patient and he has to undergo medical check-ups regularly, so as to keep it under control. Two days ago, I took him to Doctor for one such routine check-up. As we were sitting on the lounge, waiting for our turn, two guys brought a middle aged fellow there, who was looking very sick. They got registered him to the receptionist and let the patient sit in the queue. As I observed that patient, he looked very restless; continuously changing his posture, moving from side to side, some times leaning forward and again leaning back. One of the nurses there asked him to lay down, if he could not sit, but he refused. The man who came with him asked the receptionist, if he could permit them to go to see the doctor first, since that patient was very serious. The receptionist pointed his finger towards me, saying, I am the next in queue and he could let them go first, only if I permit them. The man came to me, joining his hands, asking me to permit them. There was no question of any refusal, as the patient was really looking very serious. Without a second thought I accepted his request.&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In the next turn, they got in to see the doctor and I kept waiting outside along with my father. Just within 5 minutes after that, the doctor rushed out along with that man. He took him to the corner and said, "Your patient is under severe heart attack... he haven't got much time... anything could happen..." The doctor informed that he required to be admitted immediately. That fellow agreed to that. The patient was taken to adjacent nursing home immediately and they started the treatment. Next was our turn and we got in for my father's check-up. While examining my father, the doctor turned to me and said, "Gentleman, today you have saved one life." Without having any idea, what he was saying, I looked blankly at him. The doctor continued, "The receptionist has told me everything. It was you who, left your turn for them and let them come in before you. If the patient had to wait for 5 more minutes, anything could have happened to him. It was your decision, which has saved his life."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;My mind was completely blank by this time. It was a very simple decision and I had not taken it so deeply. Never even in my wildest dreams, I have thought that such small decisions could save someone's life. Next came another thought, which was more shivering to me... "What if I had not permitted them and something wrong had happened to him, while waiting outside?" Perhaps, I would have to live my whole life with that guilt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I was speechless...! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4854915281215864259-2918433964189301844?l=sandy-storm.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sandy-storm.blogspot.com/feeds/2918433964189301844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4854915281215864259&amp;postID=2918433964189301844' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854915281215864259/posts/default/2918433964189301844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4854915281215864259/posts/default/2918433964189301844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sandy-storm.blogspot.com/2008/04/lifes-small-decisions.html' title='Life&apos;s Small Decisions'/><author><name>sandy</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zynFaiiYrxQ/Sj5bPNUf3-I/AAAAAAAAAak/Ifsrgdl8F1s/S220/SANDY.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
