KathaVarta.com: for Short and Moral stories

Posts Tagged ‘Son’

Merry Christmas 2008 Message

Posted by kathavarta on December 25, 2008

Today is Christmas – in the hearts of many
… one day in the hearts of all

One day for all shall be every day Christmas day !!!

Christmas is …
where love is

Love is …
where God is

God is ..
in all open hearts

ONLY YOU have the key to your heart
only you can open the door for God.

Say YES to LOVE and God shall be there – this very minute and all future – eternally

MERRY CHRISTMAS 2008 and love and bliss to all KathaVarta readers.

Message from Lifekoach Foundation.

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Posted in Buddhism, Hindu story, Jainism, Katha, Moral story, Religious, Sikhism, Story for Adult, Varta | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Yeshivah Student

Posted by kathavarta on December 24, 2008

It seems this young (but not too bright) boy comes home from his first day at the Yeshivah (Hebrew School), and his father asks him what he learned. “We learned to say Kaddish, papa.”

Well, the father is none too happy to hear this, so he runs down to the synagogue and confronts the Rabbi. “Rabbi,” he says. “What is this about you teaching my son to say Kaddish? After all, he shouldn’t know about this at so young an age, and besides, I’m a young man myself, in excellent health, and I expect to live a long time yet!”

The Rabbi answered, “First of all, it’s not Kaddish, it’s KIDDUSH! and secondly, you should only live so long ’till he learns it!”

By: Jagadeesh, for http://www.19.5degs.com
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Posted in Children story, Funny Story, Religious, Story for Adult, Varta | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

The 200th Hug

Posted by kathavarta on December 11, 2008

My father’s skin was jaundiced as he lay hooked up to monitors and intravenous tubes in the intensive care unit of the hospital. Normally a well-built man, he had lost more than 30 pounds.

My father’s illness had been diagnosed as cancer of the pancreas, one of the most malignant forms of the disease. The doctors were doing what they could but told us that he had only three to six months to live. Cancer of the pancreas does not lend itself to radiation therapy or chemotherapy, so they could offer little hope.

A few days later, when my father was sitting up in bed, I approached him and said, Dad, I feel deeply for what’s happened to you. It’s helped me to look at the ways I’ve kept my distance and to feel how much I really love you. I leaned over to give him a hug, but his shoulders and arms became tense. Come on, Dad, I really want to give you a hug.

For a moment he looked shocked. Showing affection was not our usual way of relating. I asked him to sit up some more so I could get my arms around him. Then I tried again. This time, however, he was even more tense. I could feel the old resentment starting to build up, and I began to think I don’t need this. If you want to die and leave me with the same coldness as always, go right ahead.

For years I had used every instance of my father’s resistance and rigidness to blame him, to resent him and to say to myself, See, he doesn’t care. This time, however, I thought again and realized the hug was for my benefit as well as my father’s. I wanted to express how much I cared for him no matter how hard it was for him to let me in. My father had always been very Germanic and duty-oriented; in his childhood, his parents must have taught him how to shut off his feelings in order to be a man. Letting go of my long-held desire to blame him for our distance, I was actually looking forward to the challenge of giving him more love. I said, C’mon, Dad, put your arms around me. I leaned up close to him at the edge of the bed with his arms around me. Now squeeze. That’s it. Now again, squeeze. Very good! In a sense I was showing my father how to hug, and as he squeezed, something happened. For an instant, a feeling of I love you bubbled through. For years our greeting had been a cold and formal handshake that said, Hello, how are you? Now, both he and I waited for that momentary closeness to happen again.

Yet, just at the moment when he would begin to enjoy the feelings of love, something would tighten in his upper torso and our hug would become awkward and strange. It took months before his rigidness gave way and he was able to let the emotions inside him pass through his arms to encircle me.

It was up to me to be the source of many hugs before my father initiated a hug on his own. I was not blaming him, but supporting him; after all, he was changing the habits of an entire lifetime – and that takes time. I knew we were succeeding because more and more we were relating out of care and affection.

Around the two-hundredth hug, he spontaneously said out loud, for the first time I could ever recall, I love you.

-By Harold H. Bloomfield; posted on http://topmoralstories.blogspot.com, by Vikas Goyal.
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Posted in Moral story, Story for Adult, Varta | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Divorce

Posted by kathavarta on December 9, 2008

An elderly man in Phoenix calls his son in New York and says, “I hate to ruin your day, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough.”

“Pop, what are you talking about?” the son screams.

“We can’t stand the sight of each other any longer,” the old man says. “We’re sick of each other, and I’m sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Chicago and tell her,” and he hangs up.

Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. “They’re not getting divorced if I have anything to do about it,” she shouts, “I’ll take care of this.”

She calls Phoenix immediately, and screams at the old man, “You are NOT getting divorced. Don’t do a single thing until I get there. I’m calling my brother back, and we’ll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don’t do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?” and hangs up.

The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife and says, “Okay, they’re coming for Thanksgiving…now what do we tell them for Christmas?”

By: Jagadeesh, for http://www.19.5degs.com
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Laloo’s son marriage

Posted by kathavarta on October 29, 2008

Laloo Prasad Yadav talks to his son.

Laloo: I want you to marry a girl of my choice
Son: “I want to choose my own bride”.
Laloo: “But the girl is Ambani’s daughter.”
Son: “Well, in that case…… Yes”

Next Laloo approaches Mukesh Ambani

Laloo: “I have a husband for your daughter.”
Ambani: “But my daughter is too young to marry.”
Laloo: “But this young man is a vice-president of the World Bank.”
Ambani: “Ah, in that case…..Yes”

Finally Laloo goes to see the president of the World Bank.

Laloo: “I have a young man to be recommended as a vice-president.”
President: “But I already have more vice-presidents than I need.”
Laloo: “But this young man is Ambani’s son-in-law.”
President: “Ah, in that case…….Yes.”

This is how business is done!!!

By: Jagadeesh, for http://www.19.5degs.com
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Posted in Children story, Funny Story, Story for Adult, Varta | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

The Father and his Sons

Posted by kathavarta on October 29, 2008

A Father had a family of sons who were perpetually quarreling among themselves.

When he failed to heal their disputes by his exhortations, he determined to give them a practical illustration of the evils of disunion; and for this purpose he one day told them to bring him a bundle of sticks.

When they had done so, he placed the faggot into the hands of each of them in succession, and ordered them to break it in pieces.

They tried with all their strength, and were not able to do it.

He next opened the faggot, took the sticks separately, one by one, and again put them into his sons’ hands, upon which they broke them easily.

He then addressed them in these words: “My sons, if you are of one mind, and unite to assist each other, you will be as this faggot, uninjured by all the attempts of your enemies; but if you are divided among yourselves, you will be broken as easily as these sticks.”

Moral:
United we stand, divided we fall.
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Posted in Aesop Fable, Children story, Fables, Moral story, Varta | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »