Try Again

'Tis a lesson you should heed,

Try again;

If at first you don't succeed,

Try again;

Then your courage should appear,

For if you will persevere,

You will conquer, never fear,

Try again.

Once or twice, though you should fail,

Try again;

If you would at last prevail,

Try again;

If we strive' tis no disgrace

Though we do not win the race;

What should we do in that case?

Try again.

If you find your task is hard,
Try again;
Time will bring you, your reward,
Try again;
All that other folk can do,
Why, with patience, may not you?
Only keep this rule in view, 
Try again.

Trees are the Kindest Things I Know

Trees are the kindest things I know,

They do not harm, they simply grow.

And spread a shade for sleepy cows,

And gather birds among their boughs.

They give us fruit, in leaves above,

And wood to make our houses of,

And leaves to burn on Hallowe'en,

And in the Spring new buds of green.

They are the first when day's begun

To touch the beams of morning sun.

They are the last to hold the light,

When evening changes to night.

And when a moon floats on the sky

The hum a drowsy lullaby

Of sleepy children long ago.......

Trees are the kindest things I know.

Be The Best

Be The Best

If you can't be a pine on the top of the hill,

Be a srub in the valley – but be

The best little scrub by the side of the rill;

Be bush if you can't be a tree.

If you can't be a bush be a bit of grass,

And some highway happier make;

If you are a muskie then just be a bass 

But the liveliest bass in the lake!

We can't all be captains, we have got to be crew, 

There's something for all of us here, 

There's big work to do, and there's lesser, to do,

And the task you must do is the near.

If you can't be a highway then just be a trail

If you can't be the sun be a star;

It isn't by size that you or fail

Be the best of whatever you are! 

Truth

    Sticks and stones may break my bones,

             But words can also hurt me.

         Stones and sticks break only skin, 

    While words are ghosts that haunt me.

Slant and curved the fall word-swords

To pierce and stick inside me. Bats and bricks may ache through bones. 

But words can mortify me. 

Pain from words has left its scar

On mind and heart that's tender 

Cuts and bruises now have healed;

It's words that I remember.

India as the Land of all Seasons

India is the current tourism hot spot. The other epithets used while referring to the nation include 'Destination of the Millennium' and 'Land of all Seasons'. Spanning an area of 32,87,263 square kilometres. with a diverse landscape. The natural beauty and cultural diversity echoes a rich tradition.



India is a hub of contrasts—the bustling haats and swanky malls, emergence of nuclear families but a reluctance to let go of the joint family system, a rush to embrace modernity yet a firm resolve to preserve traditions, a destination for both ayurveda and medical tourism as well as bustling communities and indigenous tribes. 

World Healthiest Hearts Found !

The Tsimane people, a remote tribe of the Bolivian Amazon, have the healthiest arteries ever studied. Coronary atherosclerosis in the Tsimane is five times less common than in the US.       

An 80-year-old from the Tsimane has the same vascular age as an American in his mid-fifties. This is probably because the Tsimane survive on a diet low in saturated fats and high in non-processed foods. Modern life-styles as well as loss of subsistence diets are new risk factors for hearts disease. However, modern society can learn from the Tsimane people and reduce the risk of heart disease.

Indian Weavers

Weavers, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay?.......
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild, 
We weave the robes of a new-born child.

Weavers, weaving at fall of night,
Why do you weave a garment so bright?.......
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green,
We weave the marriage-veils of a queen.



Weavers, weaving solemn and still,
What do you weave in the moonlight chill....
White as a feather and white as a cloud,
We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.

Small Towns and Rivers

       Small towns always remind me of death.
     My hometown lies calmly amidst the trees, 
                        it is always the same,
                       in summer or winter,
           or the wind howling down the gorge.

              Just the other day someone died.
               In the dreadful silence we wept 
        Looking at the sad wreath of tuberoses.
                 Life and death, life and death, 
                only the rituals are permanent. 

                      The river has a soul.

In the summer it cuts through the land 

like a torrent of grief. Sometimes,

sometimes, I think it holds its breath 

seeking a land of fish and stars 

The river has a soul.

It knows, stretching past the town,

from the first drop of rain to dry earth 

and mist on the mountaintops,

the river knows 

the immortality of water.

In small towns by the river 

we all want to walk with the gods. 

Father Returning home

My father travels on the late evening train

     Standing among silent commuters in the                                 yellow light

       Suburbs slide past his unseeing eyes 

His shirt and pants are Soggy and his black raincoat

Stained with mud and his bag stuffed with books

Is falling apart. His eyes dimmed by age

Fade homeward through the humid monsoon night.

Now I can see him getting off the train 

Like a word dropped from a long sentence.

He hurries across the length of the grey platform,

Crosses the railway line, enters the lane,

His chappals are sticky with mud, but he hurries onwards.

Home again, I see him drinking weak tea,

Eating a stale chapati, reading a book.

He goes into the toilet to contemplate 

Man's estrangement from a man-made world.

Coming out he trembles at the sink,

The cold water running over his brown hands, 

A few droplets cling to the greying hair on his wrists.

His sullen children have often refused to share 

Jokes and secrets with him.

He will now go to sleep 

Listening to the static on the radio, dreaming 

Of his ancestors and grandchildren, thinking 

Of nomads entering a subcontinent through a narrow pass. 

Money

          When I had money, money,  O!
           I knew no Joy till I went poor;
        For many a false man as a friend
       Came knocking all day at my door.                                                                                                      Then felt I like a child that holds
          Trumpet that he must not blow
          Because a man is dead; I dared
 

       Not speak to let this false world know.        
        Much have I thought of life, and seen
        How poor men's hearts are ever light;
        And how their wives do Hum like bees
        About their work from morn till night.

A Compass

Hi, friends today I am saying about the oldest technology to find direction. The device is use to find direction is a Compass.



It is used to find direction or bearing. The four main directions of a compass are known as Cardinal Points. They are north (N), east (E), south (S), and west (W). Sometimes, the half-cardinal points of north-east (NE), north-west (NW), south-east (SE) and south-west (SW) are shown on the compass.

The compass shows degree measurements from 0 to 360 degree in 10 degree interval with:
North representing 0 to 360 degree.
East representing 90 degree.
South representing 180 degree.
West representing 270 degree. 

Road Safety Rules

Hi, friends today I am saying about Road Safety Rules. This is important in our life and for our young generation. This is most
popular reason of people's death.

Here are some important rules of Driving safely:

1. Stop or Slow Down.
2. Never Mix Drinking and Driving.
3. Buckle up ( up seat belt properly).
4. Obey Traffic Rules and Signs.
5. Never Drive Dangerously.
6. Be Courteous.
7. Obey Speed Limits.
8. Wear Helmet.
9. Never Use Mobile While Driving.

So, dear friends please follow the above rules given in the blog. Lots of family get break due to accidents. Take care of yourself and families.

She Walks in Beauty

                 She walks in beauty, like the night

         Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

      And all that's best of dark and bright 

                  Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

            Thus mellowed to that tender light 

            Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

                

           One shade the more, one ray the less,                  Which waves in every raven tress, 

 Or softly lightens over her face;i

Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

 How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

   And on that cheek, and over that brow, 

                      So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

  The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 

              But tell of days in goodness spent,

                  A mind at peace with all below, 

                   A heart whose love is innocent!