Who am I?



 Who am I? A few strokes capturing a walking, talking essence—or just a whimsical caricature?

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Resilience ....

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In my garden, I found several broken stone pieces scattered, each bearing its unique shape and form. Among these stones, one caught my attention. I had recently come across a quotation online that resonated deeply with me: "In the end, we all become stories." This thought lingered, compelling me to consider how each life, if understood and articulated well, could indeed be a compelling story. I often found that my shared experiences didn’t always elicit the response I hoped for, while gossip about me seemed far more intriguing. Inspired, I decided to transform the stone into a keepsake bearing the profound quote. After cleaning it meticulously, I used liquid paint to inscribe the words. My vision was to frame this stone in a unique yet economical way. Fortunately, I found a carpenter willing to take on this unusual task. I even bundled in a few other odd jobs for him. However, when the job was completed, my excitement turned to disappointment. While fixing the stone into the ...
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Tale of two observers ...31st July 2024 ( Chaganti garu's timeless tale, retold by me)

 Tale of two observers A learned man, devoted to teaching his students, lived opposite a prostitute's residence. He would often observe her clients and ponder her perceived debased life. Meanwhile, the lady would secretly watch the scholar's spiritual pursuits and noble teachings. The story raises a profound question: who is truly cultivating noble thoughts and nurturing their soul - the learned man, despite his fascination with the prostitute's life, or the prostitute herself, who observes and perhaps aspires to the scholar's spiritual path? This story highlights the importance of looking beyond surface-level appearances and judgments, and instead, focusing on one's own actions and intentions. It encourages self-reflection and challenges us to reevaluate our assumptions about others.  (From a story shared by Chaganti Koteswara rao garu)
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Recollecting old memories...

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Years ago, a clever gardener visited our home, claiming to have been sent by our respected bava. We had no idea what was happening until he handed us a huge bill. He had dug up the hedges, displacing existing plants with the promise of future improvements. We were left bewildered, cursing our lack of gardening knowledge. Years later, the Bhringraj plant, which that crafty gardener had removed, reappeared. Each season, its blooms now offer soothing visuals against the thick green foliage. Thanks to Google, I’ve learned about this plant’s many names and its uses. I never knew this is the famous Bhringraj from which hair oil is made. Nature is both mysterious and simple. Everything we need to know is there if we only take the time to understand and appreciate it.
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