KathaVarta.com: for Short and Moral stories

Archive for September 14th, 2008

Fail to plan, or Plan to fail?!

Posted by kathavarta on September 14, 2008

“If you fail to plan, you can plan to fail,” says I.

“We don’t have time to plan, we have to get started,” says he.

“Started on what?” says I.

“Started on the work,” says he.

“Which work?” says I.

“There’s a whole bunch of stuff we know we have to do,” says he.

“But with your lean and mean organization, you have more work than resources. Which stuff should they work on today?” says I.

“That’s OK. It all has to get done. Start whatever we can,” says he.

“But isn’t there some stuff that can’t be finished without other stuff,” says I.

“That’s OK, it can still get started. If not, people will be sitting idle. Can’t have that,” says he.

“But it’ll sit half-done, waiting for inputs that may not match what was done, probably leading to rework,” says I.

“That’s OK. We know how to be flexible. We have to be in this business,” says he.

“But rework will add time and effort,” says I.

“That’s OK. There’s always overtime if we need it,” says he.

“But even with OT, with all the false starts, un-clear goals, and people jumping willy-nilly from task to task, don’t you risk being late against your promises?” says I.

“That’s OK. We’re used to being late. That’s why we always have a fallback plan to deliver less that the full original promise,” says he.

“Plan?” says I. “Doh . . .” says I, Homeresquely, with the heel of my hand thumping my forehead..

Moral:
Think about it . . .

Isn’t managing an organization to accomplish a strategy in support of a goal something worth planning? What’s your plan? What’s your strategy? What’s your goal?
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Think, before envying

Posted by kathavarta on September 14, 2008

There are experiences such as failure in business, or misfortune, or illness, or a certain blow in one’s life, whether an affair of the heart or of money or a social affair, whatever it may be — there are blows which fall upon a person and a shell breaks, a new consciousness is produced. Very few will see it is an unfoldment, very few will interpret it as such, but it is so. Have you not seen among your acquaintances how a person with a disagreeable nature, a most uninteresting man to whom you were never attracted, perhaps after a blow, a deep sorrow, after some experience, awakened to a new consciousness and suddenly attracted you, because he had gone through this process? As we unfold at every step in our life, so we do with every experience. The deeper the experience touches us, the greater the unfoldment.

There is a story of a slave called Ayaz, who was brought before a king with nine others, and the king had to select one to be his personal attendant, The wise king gave into the hands of each of the ten a wineglass and commanded him to throw it down. Each one obeyed the command. Then the king asked each one of them, ‘Why did you do such a thing?’ The first nine answered ‘Because your Majesty gave me the order’; the plain truth cut and dried. And then came the tenth slave, Ayaz. He said, ‘Pardon, sire, I am sorry,’ for he realized that the king already knew it was his command; by replying, ‘Because you told me,’ nothing new was said to the king. This beauty of expression enchanted the king so much that he selected him to be his attendant.

It was not long before Ayaz won the trust and confidence of the king, who gave him the charge of his treasury, the treasury in which precious jewels were kept. This made many jealous, this sudden rise from a slave to a treasurer of the king, a position which many envied. No sooner did people know that Ayaz had become a favorite of the king than they began to tell numerous stories about him in order to bring him into disfavor with the king. One of the stories was that Ayaz went every day into the room where the jewels were locked in the safe, and that he was stealing them every day, little by little. The king answered, ‘No, I cannot believe such a thing; you have to show me.’

So they brought the king as Ayaz entered this room, and made him stand in a place where there was a hole, looking into the room. And the king saw what was going on there. Ayaz entered the room and opened the door of the safe. And what did he take out from it? His old ragged clothes which he had worn as a slave. He kissed them and pressed them to his eyes, and put them the table. There, incense was burning, and this that he was doing was something sacred to him. He then put on these clothes and looked at himself in the mirror, and said, as one might be saying a prayer, ‘Listen, O Ayaz, see what you used to be before. It is the king who has made you, who has given you the charge of this treasure. So regard this duty as your most sacred trust, and this honor as your privilege and as a token of the love and kindness of the king. Know that it is not your worthiness that has brought you to this position. Know that it is his greatness, his goodness, his generosity which has overlooked your faults, and which has bestowed that rank and position upon you by which you are now being honoured. Never forget, therefore, your first day, the day when you came to this town; for it is the remembering of that day which will keep you in your proper place.’

He then took off the clothes and put them in the same place of safety, and came out. As he stepped out, what did he see? He saw that the king before whom he bowed was waiting eagerly to embrace him; and the king said to him, ‘What a lesson you have given me Ayaz! It is this lesson which we must all learn, whatever be our position. Because before that King in whose presence we all are but slaves, nothing should make us forget that helplessness through which we were reared and raised, and brought to life, to understand and to live a life of joy. People told me that you had stolen jewels from our treasure-house, but on coming here I have found that you have stolen my heart.’
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The Beggar’s Rags

Posted by kathavarta on September 14, 2008

A beggar lived near the king’s palace. One day he saw a proclamation posted outside the palace gate. The king was giving a great dinner. Anyone dressed in royal garments was invited to the party.

The beggar went on his way. He looked at the rags he was wearing and sighed. Surely only kings and their families wore royal robes, he thought. Slowly an idea crept into his mind. The audacity of it made him tremble. Would he dare?

He made his way back to the palace. He approached the guard at the gate. “Please, sire, I would like to speak to the king.”

“Wait here,” the guard replied. In a few minutes, he was back. “His majesty will see you,” he said, and led the beggar in.

“You wish to see me?” asked the king.

“Yes, your majesty. I want so much to attend the banquet, but I have no royal robes to wear. Please, sir, if I may be so bold, may I have one of your old garments so that I, too, may come to the banquet?”

The beggar shook so hard that he could not see the faint smile that was on the king’s face. “You have been wise in coming to me,” the king said. He called to his son, the young prince. “Take this man to your room and array him in some of your clothes.”

The prince did as he was told and soon the beggar was standing before a mirror, clothed in garments that he had never dared hope for.

“You are now eligible to attend the king’s banquet tomorrow night,” said the prince. “But even more important, you will never need any other clothes. These garments will last forever.”

The beggar dropped to his knees. “Oh, thank you,” he cried. But as he started to leave, he looked back at his pile of dirty rags on the floor. He hesitated. What if the prince was wrong? What if he would need his old clothes again. Quickly he gathered them up.

The banquet was far greater than he had ever imagined, but he could not enjoy himself as he should. He had made a small bundle of his old rags and it kept falling off his lap. The food was passed quickly and the beggar missed some of the greatest delicacies.

Time proved that the prince was right. The clothes lasted forever. Still the poor beggar grew fonder and fonder of his old rags. As time passed people seemed to forget the royal robes he was wearing. They saw only the little bundle of filthy rags that he clung to wherever he went. They even spoke of him as the old man with the rags.One day as he lay dying, the king visited him.

The beggar saw the sad look on the king’s face when he looked at the small bundle of rags by the bed.Suddenly the beggar remembered the prince’s words and he realized that his bundle of rags had cost him a lifetime of true royalty. He wept bitterly at his folly. And the king wept with him.

Moral:
When we put our faith in God, & ask His Bounties & forgiveness, we must belive in Him and not to worry of future. As He has given us Today when we asked from Him, He will definitely give us tomorrow too if asked again.
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Need Washing???

Posted by kathavarta on September 14, 2008

A little girl had been shopping with her Mom in Target. She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful red haired, freckle faced image of innocence. It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the earth it has no time to flow down the spout. We all stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the Target.

We waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed up their hurried day. I am always mesmerized by rainfall. I got lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child came pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day.

The little voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in ‘Mom let’s run through the rain, she said.

‘What?’ Mom asked.

‘Lets run through the rain!’ She repeated

‘No, honey. We’ll wait until it slows down a bit,’ Mom replied.

This young child waited about another minute and repeated: ‘Mom, let’s run through the rain,’

‘We’ll get soaked if we do,’ Mom said.

‘No, we won’t, Mom.. That’s not what you said this morning,’ the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom’s arm.

This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?

‘Don’t you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said , ‘If God can get us through this, he can get us through anything!’

The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear you couldn’t hear anything but the rain. We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes.

Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say. Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what was said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child’s life. A time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith.

‘Honey, you are absolutely right. Let’s run through the rain. If GOD let’s us get wet, well maybe we just needed washing,’ Mom said.

Then off they ran. We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and yes, through the puddles. They held their shopping bags over their heads just in case. They got soaked. But they were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars.

And yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing.

Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions, they can take away your money, and they can take away your health. But no one can ever take away your precious memories…So, don’t forget to make time and take the opportunities to make memories everyday. To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.

Moral:
I HOPE YOU STILL TAKE THE TIME TO RUN THROUGH THE RAIN.
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