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Posts Tagged ‘Death’

The Letters from the Lord of Death

Posted by kathavarta on December 16, 2008

A man by the name of Amrita, living on earth, thought to himself that the one thing he feared most was death. He hit upon a bright idea that if he befriended the Lord of Death, then may be death can be kept at a distance. Amrita practised austerities and concentrated his mind upon Lord Yama, the Lord of Death. Lord Yama was pleased and granted a vision to Amrita.

Lord Yama said: I know, by the aid of my divine powers, that you seek to befriend me. Your wish has come true. My presence is only available to those upon whose deaths my messengers or I take their souls to my domain. Those that are born must die and those who die will be born again. This is the eternal law. No one can escape death. Yet I grant you my vision while you are still living.

Amrita said: As a token of our friendship, I ask this favour of you. If death is inevitable, I ask that if I am to die, then at least let me know beforehand of the time when my end is to come so that I can make proper provision for my family before departure.

Lord Yama said: Sure, this is a simple matter. I shall certainly inform you beforehand. But as soon as you get the message, please set about making the preparations.

With these words Lord Yama, the Lord of Death, vanished.

Many years passed. Amrita’s hair began gradually to turn grey, but he was living happily with not a thought about the fear of death. His life was full of sensual pleasures and enjoyments. He did not look forward to receiving any correspondence from his friend, Lord Yama, and he was pleased that so far no letters had arrived from the Lord of Death.

Some more years passed by. By this time Amrita had lost most of his teeth. But he was living without any worries about death or dying. Still no letters had arrived from his friend, the Lord of Death.

As the years rolled by, Amrita’s eyesight became dimmer. Old age is catching up with me, he thought. But I am thankful that my friend has still not sent any letter addressed to me. I know that my friend, Lord Yama, always keeps his promise. He will surely send a message beforehand.

Some more years passed by. Amrita was now an old man who could not stand straight up. With his back bent forward, he could not walk without the support of a walking stick. His skin was all wrinkled. One day he suffered a stroke and became paralysed. People said his condition was very critical. But Amrita was still in a happy frame of mind. As long as his friend Lord Yama had not sent any letter, the thought of death and dying never entered his mind.

Then the inevitable happened. Lord Yama, the god of death, entered the room. Amrita was startled and his mind was seized with fear.

Lord Yama said: My friend, come now, you have suffered greatly. Today I have come to take you with me.

Amrita was trembling with extreme fear. He said: Alas, you have betrayed me. You have not kept your word. You did not send any letter to me. You have now come with your fearful form to take me away. Are you not ashamed to thus deceive a friend?

Lord Yama said: O man! You spent all your life in shameless sense indulgence. Now you cast aspersions on me, the Lord of justice. Pleasures and enjoyments made you blind. How then could you know the letters I sent you? Not one, but four letters did I send to you. But you heeded them not.

Amrita was greatly puzzled: Four letters did you say? But not one reached me. It is just possible that they may have gone astray in the post.

Lord Yama said: With all your cleverness you were fool enough to think that I would take up pen and paper to write letters to you. O deluded mortal! Time is my messenger who brought my messages to you. Now take your mind back in time and recollect, years ago, your hair turned grey. That was my first letter. You did not heed my message but blackened your hair with dye.

My second letter reached you when your teeth began to fall out. Then too, you took no warning, but got yourself a set of false teeth.

My third letter was sent to you when your eyesight failed.

The fourth message was when your body became paralysed.

Amrita said: Oh no! I have grievously erred. Unforgivable is my error. Yet once more I crave your indulgence, Lord Yama.

Lord Yama replied: Indulgence! What more indulgence is there for me to give? What use did you make of the priceless opportunity bestowed on you of the gift of this human birth? Sensual indulgence and drunkenness- with these you wasted your life. Wasting this precious human life, fie on you! Now you shamelessly ask for more time. Time for what?

Amrita said: O friend, remember our past friendship? Please recall those days now and bestow on me one more chance.

Lord Yama said: That friendship was of that time. Now it’s done. I come neither as friend nor as foe. I come as the dispenser of the granite law. This law is above love and above hatred. This law is just, true and impartial. No human servitor am I who for gifts or money would from duty’s path swerve. My course is straight and true to the end. I carry out the stern dictates of destiny. All mortals have to bend to my final mandate. This is the divine law. Now let us go.

Lord Yama, the god of death, puts the noose over the dying man’s neck. The man begins to gasp and then chokes. An agonised expression fills his face.

People said: Amrita is dead.

Paraphrased from the writings of Swami Shivananda, The Divine Life Society, Rishikesh; on http://hinduism.co.za

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The Fox, the Cock and the Dog

Posted by kathavarta on December 10, 2008

One moonlight night a Fox was prowling about a farmer’s hen-coop, and saw a Cock roosting high up beyond his reach.

“Good news, good news!” he cried.

“Why, what is that?” said the Cock.

“King Lion has declared a universal truce. No beast may hurt a bird henceforth, but all shall dwell together in brotherly friendship.”

“Why, that is good news,” said the Cock; “and there I see some one coming, with whom we can share the good tidings.” And so saying he craned his neck forward and looked afar off.

“What is it you see?” said the Fox.

“It is only my master’s Dog that is coming towards us. What, going so soon?” he continued, as the Fox began to turn away as soon as he had heard the news.

“Will you not stop and congratulate the Dog on the reign of universal peace?”

“I would gladly do so,” said the Fox, “but I fear he may not have heard of King Lion’s decree.”

Moral:
Cunning often outwits itself.
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Bill Clinton calls Rush Limbaugh

Posted by kathavarta on October 21, 2008

Bill Clinton calls Rush Limbaugh’s producer and asks to speak with Rush. The
producer replies, “I’m sorry Mr. President, but Rush has suddenly died.”

Clinton says, “OK.”, and hangs up.

About 15 minutes later Clinton calls again and receives a slightly more irritated “Rush has died.”

Again acknowledges and hangs up.

After about 20 minutes he calls again and asks to speak to Rush.

The producer replies in a loud voice, “I told you Rush is dead. Why can’t you understand that?”

Clinton replies, “Oh, I understand that, I just love to hear you say it.”
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Money

Posted by kathavarta on October 9, 2008

There was a man who worked all of his life and saved all of his money. He was a real miser when it came to his money. He loved money more than just about anything, and just before he died, he said to his wife, “Now listen, when I die, I want you to take all my money and place it in the casket with me. I wanna take my money to the afterlife.”

So he got his wife to promise him with all her heart that when he died, she would put all the money in the casket with him.

Well, one day he died. He was stretched out in the casket, the wife was sitting there in black next to her closest friend. When they finished the ceremony, just before the undertakers got ready to close the casket, the wife said “Wait just a minute!”

She had a shoe box with her, she came over with the box and placed it in the casket. Then the undertakers locked the casket down and rolled it away. Her friend said, “I hope you weren’t crazy enough to put all that money in the casket.”

“Yes,” the wife said, “I promised. I’m a good Christian, I can’t lie. I promised him that I was going to put that money in that casket with him.”

“You mean to tell me you put every cent of his money in the casket with him?”

“I sure did. I got it all together, put it into my account and I wrote him a check.”

From: http://www.onlyfunnystories.com
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Importance of Correct Email ID

Posted by kathavarta on October 9, 2008

A man checked into a hotel, with a computer in his room. So he decided to send an e-mail to his wife. However, he accidentally typed wrong e-mail address, and without realizing his error, he sent the e-mail.

Meanwhile…..somewhere in Houston, a widow had just returned home from her husband’s funeral. The widow decided to check her e-mail, expecting messages from relatives and friends. After reading the first message, she fainted.

The widow’s son rushed into the room, found his mother on the floor, and saw the computer screen which read:

To: My Loving Wife
Subject: I’ve Reached
Date: 30 May 2004

I know you’re surprised to hear from me. They have computers here now, and you are allowed to send e-mails to your loved ones. I’ve just reached and have been checked in.

I see that everything has been prepared for your arrival tomorrow.

Looking forward to seeing you then! Hope your journey is as uneventful as mine was.

Your dearest hubby
XXXX

By: Deepak Verma, for http://www.whereincity.com
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The death coach

Posted by kathavarta on September 25, 2008

It is midnight. The streets of Cohoes grow silent as the citizens turn off their lights one by one and go to their well-earned rest. The night is dark, and the wind whispers softly, touching the trees and houses, rattling a window pane here and there.

In one house, a woman sits beside her window, waiting silently for the doctor to arrive. Her beloved husband lies on the bed next to her. In the light of a single candle, she can see his emaciated face. He is in terrible pain, which even the drugs prescribed by the doctor cannot abate. She clutches his hand tightly, feeling the cold creeping through it. He is barely breathing now. She knows he is slipping away. One part of her is thankful, for she cannot bear to see him in so much pain. Most of her wants to scream out in desperation, begging him not to leave her alone.

Outside the house, the soft rumble of wheels and the clip-clop of hooves echo through the still night. The woman tears her eyes from her husband’s face and looks out of the window, expecting to see the doctor’s curricle pulling into the street. Instead, she sees a dark, closed coach with black gaping holes where the windows should be. The shafts at the front of the coach are empty, yet she can hear the sound of invisible horses’ hooves, as the coach moves slowly down the street.

She draws in a deep breath and exhales slowly. It is the Death Coach. Her husband had told her it would come for him that night, but she hadn’t believed him. Hadn’t wanted to believe him. Yet there it is, rolling slowly up to the front of the house to stop by the front gate. The sight terrifies her, and she clutches her husband’s hand tightly. He opens his eyes and smiles feebly at her, trying to squeeze her hand.

“Is it here?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper. She nods.

“I love you,” he says to his wife. She leans down and kisses him, feels his last breath on her lips. The grip on her hand loosens, and she knows he is dead. She straightens up, looking tenderly at his dead face through her tears.

A movement by the door causes her to look up. She sees her husband’s spirit standing at the door. He gazes first at his dead body, and then smiles at her. Then he turns and walks down the stairs. She moves at once to the window, flinging it open and leaning out, hoping to see him again. The front door opens, and her husband steps out the front porch and walks slowly to the Death Coach. The door opens, and he pauses for a moment to look towards the window, knowing she is watching. He waves and she waves back, tears streaming down her face. Then her husband steps into the coach and the door closes behind him. Slowly, the Death Coach rumbles down the street, turns a corner, and is gone.

“Goodbye, my love,” she calls softly, as the Death Coach disappears. Her husband’s pain is over, but her’s has just begun. With a heavy heart, she closes the window, and goes down the stairs to telephone the doctor and tell him her husband is dead.

By: Arti Agarwal on http://www.whereincity.com/stories
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