Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Amateurs built the Ark and professionals built the Titanic.

The Pig And The Horse

There was a farmer who collected horses; he only needed one more breed to complete his collection. One day, he found out that his neighbor had the particular horse breed he needed. So, he constantly bothered his neighbor until he sold it to him. A month later, the horse became ill and he called the veterinarian, who said:
... - Well, your horse has a virus. He must take this medicine for three days. I'll come back on the 3rd day and if he's not better, we're going to have to put him down.
Nearby, the pig listened closely to their conversation.
The next day, they gave him the medicine and left. The pig approached the horse and said:
- Be strong, my friend. Get up or else they're going to put you to sleep!
On the second day, they gave him the medicine and left. The pig came back and said:
- Come on buddy, get up or else you're going to die! Come on, I'll help you get up. Let's go! One, two, three...
On the third day, they came to give him the medicine and the vet said:
- Unfortunately, we're going to have to put him down tomorrow. Otherwise, the virus might spread and infect the other horses.
After they left, the pig approached the horse and said:
- Listen pal, it's now or never! Get up, come on! Have courage! Come on! Get up! Get up! That's it, slowly! Great! Come on, one, two, three... Good, good. Now faster, come on.... Fantastic! Run, run more! Yes! Yay! Yes! You did it, you're a champion!!!
All of a sudden, the owner came back, saw the horse running in the field and began shouting:
- It's a miracle! My horse is cured. This deserves a party. Let's kill the pig!
Points for reflection: this often happens in the workplace. Nobody truly knows which employee actually deserves the merit of success, or who's actually contributing the necessary support to make things happen.
LEARNING TO LIVE WITHOUT RECOGNITION IS A SKILL!
If anyone ever tells you that your work is unprofessional, remember: amateurs built the Ark and professionals built the Titanic.

Monday, August 1, 2011

If MFH was a Poet

The Lass who made me a poet!

Never had I written poem, poetry embraced me next day I met her:

One glimpse of her, a glance from her drives me to heaven abode!
Am envious of the lucky guy who holds her hands (her in arms)

Her smile so sweet keeps me alive until dusk,
& Am dead until dawn!

Long her glance every day,
Her smile once a day
Least to hear a word a day

Am going crazy seeing her, her Smile
I don wana see her anymore
B’cause  am going crazy
Am fed up, of myself n my state

Alas! I am a poet…..

My Pop

Appappa... Thampy called, he raised head n looked to wards Thampy from the wheel chair, being pushed towards the ICU, but my poor Dad cdn't see anything but just blurred objects, b'coz he was just dying......was loosing his perceiption. I just can't even imagine the scene, his plight to survive, his feelings..... sorry my Dad! I know, even if I keep chanting sorry all my left over life is of any use.....

I loved you, but never was close to you. We hardly communicated may b it was so in those traditional times between sons n fathers unlike the present. Until 13, I remember having seen him twice or thrice only whenever he and rest of the family came on vacation to Kerala from Hyderabad. I used to be scared of his big moustache and his hefty figure. Having known that they are on the way from the Railway station, I used to hide inside the "Pathayam" where we preserve paddy after harvest.