Sunday, 29 April 2012


PRACTICE THY SELF BEFORE PREACHING OTHERS

- a moral story 


Swami Rishyamook ji lived in a Kutiya in Haridwar on the banks of river Ganga.
His disciples came to him with their problems and got them solved by his blessings.  He was famous for his preaching.  His preaching were known to bring miraculous improvements in stubborn as well.

Once, Savtri came to his ashram with her son Rammaiya, who was in habit of eating lots of sugar and jaggery.  On hearing Savitri’s problem, Swamiji told her to bring Rammaiya to him the next day.  Next day swamiji again repeated his request to bring Rammaiya the other day.  On the said day, swamiji very politely told Rammaiya “ Son, it is not good to eat extra sweet, so it is better for you not to eat jaggery and sugar.  Better stop eating it the way you eat.” 

Some days later Savitri came and told swamiji that Rammaiya has improved considerably and does not eat Jaggery as before.  While expressing her happiness, she asked that why did the Guru asked her to pay so many visits to say those few and simple words to Rammiya?

The Guru replied. “ I should not preach what I do not practice.”  The day you first came to me, I myself was in habit of eating a lot of jaggery.  The next time, you came I could not improve my habit in spite of my best efforts, that is why, I summoned you to come some other day.  Finally, when you brought your son to me, I had improved my habit of eating sugar & Jaggery.  That day I could preach your son justifiably and I did it.  This is the reason my simple preaching worked on your son.

Fading Innocence




In the endless sea of innocence 

Deep within an infant's eyes 
Drifts the unsinkable ship of 
Truth, with its sails on high 

Silent, serene and sincere – his 
Peaceful eyes can be described; 
But this is that defines his today, 
Tomorrow belongs to the other side 



He'll envelope himself by grotesque 
Sheets of unbreakable complexity 
And bind his existence with falsehood 
By chains of long corrupted fantasy. 

But his soul will cling on to it, 

All through, and discreetly nurture 

It's complexity – allowing the rhythm 

Of his life defy the rhythm of nature 

But neither autumn's red-lipped fruitage 
Nor the spell of spring lasts all day. 
No matter how long it breathes, no 
Matter whatever it be, it fades away 

And so will those eyes, one dusk 
Break free from its cold hard shell 
But alas! Just to seep into another 
And in it for a new week dwell!