Kung mamatay ako at the Lord's time, may mga bagay akong gustong malaman niyo. Patuloy akong nangangarap na makapag-iwan ng legacy dito sa mundo for the glory of God. Right now i'm not exactly sure what is my purpose here on earth, but I know it's not to live for my own. Kung may pagkakataon ako, gusto kong maging Evangelist, yung tipong sharing the Word of God and the Good news sa harap ng maraming tao and surely with the help of the Lord and the holy spirit, everyone will be transformed. I want to dedicate my life to the Lord, taking up my cross and denying myself. Masaya lang ako ngayon kasi I am taking every step with the Lord na alam ko naman whatever comes, He will be with me.
To my wife, I know I failed you. I often ask myself, is it right to pursue you? Or should I let you go? I am sure that God is doing something in our relationship. Gusto lagi kitang tanungin kung gusto mo pa bang sumubok ulit? Pero nakakatakot magmahal o masaktan ulit na nagmamakaawa ako kay Lord na alisin saakin. I am unhappy na nasasanay tayo sa space na nacreate natin sa isat-isa but somehow my heart still longs for you. I'm holding myself back and letting God work in our relationship. Kapag namimiss kita, hindi ko mapigilang humagulgol. I always pray to God for strength and courage to move forward everyday. I love looking at the sky, it feels like you are beside me, it reminds me of your warm embrace at yung mata mong nangungusap. Kaya kapag maganda yung sky, i would always take a minute to look at it and sometimes close my eyes imagining youre beside me. Hindi ko alam kung san tayo dadalhin ni Lord, siya lang nakakaalam. I just know in myself na it's you, it's always been you, and it's always you na pinipili ko araw-araw. Hindi ko maikakaila sa sarili ko na mahal na mahal pa din kita at gusto pa din kitang makasama habang buhay.
Mama at Papa, wag po kayo masyado malungkot ha. Please know na I am at the best place na, wala ng hirap or pain. Maraming salamat po sa pagmamahal niyo na pumuno saamin ng mga kapatid ko. Walang katumbas po yun at habang buhay akong grateful sa inyo. Thank God for giving me such good and responsible parents. Alam kong hinding-hindi po kayo pababayaan ni Lord at ng mga anak niyo. I pray na iaccept ng ating pamilya si Jesus as our Lord and savior at tumalikod sa kasalanan. Hindi ko po makalimutan yung pagtulong niyo samin ni Czai nung galing kaming Palawan. Mahal na mahal ko po kayo.
Sa mga kapatid ko, kahit di ko na sabihin, alam ko aalagaan nyo sila mama at papa kasi katulad ko, alam ko mahal niyo sila at grateful tayo sa pagpapalaki satin. Kuya, salamat sa lahat, sana patuloy mong mahalin at punuin ng kasiyahan yung pamilya mo, si ate sha, yana at kung may kasunod pa na cute baby. Kapag lalake, jj din ipalayaw mo ah! Jen, thank you sa lahat, ikaw yung pinakamabait at responsable sating magkakapatid. Salamat sa buhay mo, sana alagaan mo din sarili mo, be a better, independent, strong and smart woman. Jezza, thank you din, ikaw yung pinakamalambing sa aatin, alam ko na ginagawa mo yung best mo ngayon at sana ipagpatuloy mo lang. You may fail along the way, but take heart nandyan si Lord para sating lahat. Mahal ko kayong mga kapatid ko.
Sa mga kaibigan, isa lang talaga gusto ko, yung magkasama sama tayong lahat sa langit balang araw. Gusto kong malaman niyo na naging masaya ako ng sobra dahil nakilala ko at nakasama kayo. We shared tons of memories na hinding hindi ko makakalimutan. Salamat sa mga tawanan at iyakan. Salamat sa mga pagkakataong kailangan ko kayo, nandiyan kayo para suportahan ako. Da best kayo!
Kaming mag pipinsan nabalitaan naming may roong konsyerto dito sa pilipinas ang bandang PLANETSHAKERS ito ay ginanap sa Mall of asia .Kaming mag pipinsan napag isipan naming bumili ng tikit upung makadalo sa konsyerto ng PlanetShakers
Ang lokasyon ng konsyerto ay sa pasay sa mall of asia napakaraming tao dito at napakaganda ng lugat malis.Halos lahat ng kaylangan mo nandito na marami rin ditong makakainan at mapapasyalan
Paano kami nag tungo sa aming puputahan na konsyerto at anong ang aming mga sinakyan patungo rito ?
Kaming mag pipinsan ay mula sa bayan ng DInalupihan sa Bataan. 9 ng umaga kami ay sumakay ng bus patungong Cubao bakit cubao ang aming sinakyan dahil kami ay pupunta muna pansamantala sa tahanan ng aking pinsan upang kumain at mapahinga.Ang aming byahe patungo sa Cubao ay tatlong oras at trenta minuo nakarating kami duon 12 ng tanghali.Sumakay kami ng motor upang pumunta sa tahanan ng aking pinsan.Pag karating namin kami ay nag pahinga na saglit at kumain dahil nakakapagod ang byahe.
Pag katapos namin mag pahinga at kumain.Umalis kami sa tahanan ng aking pinsan at nag pasya na kaming mag punta sa Sm o kung saan gaganapin ang konsyerto.5:30 ng hapon sumakay na kami ng grab patungo sa konsyerto nakarating kami duon ng 7 ng gabi
Ano-ano nga ba ang ginawa namin sa lugar ng Konsyerto at sa Kunsyerto?
Kami ay namasyal dahil ang konsyerto ay 8:30 panaman ang simula kami ay nag lakad lakad muna at nag papalipas ng oras.kami ay na mangha sa lugar dahil ito ay napakaganda at napakadaming tao ngayun ko lang naranasan makapunta dito at akoy namangha ng sobra.
Napag isipan nanaming mag punta sa pila patungo sa kunsyerto napaka bilis at napakaayus ng kanilang pag papatakbo walang gulo nanaganap mahusay nila.
Nakapasok nakami sa konsyerto ng plnaetshakers napakaganda para ba akong nabuhay muli sa sobrang saya. at isa rin sa pangarap ko nalang makapanood ng konsyerto at naranasan ko ito.
Realisasyon
Sa aming pag lalakbay patungo sa konsyerto kahit nakakapagod makipag sisikan sa tao hindi kami sumuko at pinag patuloy namin na pagtanto ko na kapag gusto mo yung mga bagay na ginagawa mo walamang makakapapigil dito kahit anong pag subok pa ang dumating sa paglalakba na ito.
Pangalawa habang kami ay nasa konsyerto May nakita akong taong hindi masaya tignan ngunit hindi siya mukang baliw hindi siya gumagawa ng aksyon dahil iniisip niya yung sasabihin ng iba.Meron nman mukang baliw pero masaya dahil wala siyang pakelam sasabihin ng ibang tao at ginagawga niya lang yung mga bagay kung saan siya sasaya. Napag tanto ko na Bakit ko iniisip yung sasabihin ng ibang tao.Oo hindi ako mukang baliw pero malungkut ako. Kaya natutunan ko na nasa aatin ang desisyon upang sumaya hindi sa ibang tao.kaya hindi ko natatagpuan ang tunay nakasayahan ng buhay kase nakabase ako sa tao hindi sa sasarili ko.
Ang video ay ipinapakita na merong tao na kaya pang ikalat ang wikang Filipino sa mga kababatang bayan. Ipinapakita rin kung gaano mahalaga ang wikang filipino sa mga kababayan. Ang wika ay isa sa mga pagtukoy ng aspekto ng ating kultura at ang ating kasaysayan at kung saan sila nararating at nakakasabi din ito sa relasyon nila sa mga ibang bansa na nakaaway o nakapagtulungan nila importante ang filipino sa aatin dahil ito ang parte kung bakit tayo isang Pilipino. Ito ang pagmamalaki ng ating bayan biling isang lungsod. parte ito ng ating buhay, ng ating araw araw, parte ng ating musika. Nagkaroon tayo ng ating sariling linguahe para mapakita natin ang ating kalayaan. Ito ang lipunan na dinulot sa sulat ng mga tao tulad ni jose rizal para hindi natayo matapakan ng ibat ibang tao. dito nagsisimula ang mga buhay natin, kung paano tayo magiisip sa iba para maipakita kung saan tayo nararating. Ang tunog ng wika ay nagunguna sa paggawa ng kultura. At nakaklungot ito na hindi na ito napapansin masyado ng mga kasalukuyang kababayan. Ang wikan Filipino ay merong iba’t-ibang uri, hindi lamang ito basta lamang sa wikang tagalog at natatangi sila sa kani-kanilang rehiyon sa bansang Pilipinas.
We’ve been so focused on losing Robert & Aatin together on screen that when we get an interview with Ryan and Danny together and Danny gets Ryan to laugh, the hug, the praise, it hits even harder. Never gonna be ready for the end.
Why do we care about #fashion, #fashionillustration and #fashiondesign? 💫 💫it’s the art of people. . That’s pretty deep! . Even when we don’t try, we TELL STORIES thru our dress, accessories, hairstyles, colors... . 💫 Every person is an expression of the Divine! . 💫 💫Shimmer, shine, special occasions, magic, dramatic shapes or textures beyond the every day. 💫BRING JOY into your #fashionart practice. FABRIC AND FLOW aia on sale AND on a limited time Payment Plan thru New Year’s Eve! (start for just $111 today!) . 💫Design your own looks to call in the new year using a variety of techniques and styles. . 💫because there is no one RIGHT way, there is o ou DOING IT, and..... I’m here to remind you (if needed) that if JOY isn’t central in your experience, the. No one could ever pay you enough to do it. . 💫fashion’s reward is THE PROCESS of tapping into this incredible art form! . 💫and you know that. . 💫we’ll explore thru lessons, homework, exercises and projects that activiely bring you into the processes of researching beautiful fashion, illustrating and sketching from observation and INSPIRATION, and then, as you get filled up with the beauty and love that you have for fashion, .... 💫 We’ll take it further! We’ll delve into your own ideas and variation. 💫 I guarantee that you’ll be propelled Into new insights and discoveries on this journey with me. 💫 💫💫💫LINK IN BIO TODAY💫💫💫 The self- study is pre recorded videos but we have a private course discussion area for you to access me with all your questions and insights! #happynewyear #newyearsfashion #newyearsevefashion #eveningwear #holidaydashion #partydresses #aatin #sequins #shone sparkle #dashionillustrator #fashiondrawing #fashionartist #fashionart #makersmovement #fashionsketch #fashionsketchbook #fashionsketching #fashiondesign #fashiondesigner #fashionillustration #fashionportfolios #goddessarts #goddesses #illustration #figuredrawing #modeldrawing #fashionteachers #fashionschools #parsonsfashion https://www.instagram.com/p/Br79OwZHc5i/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1j0sv86plgfqi
Alamat : Jln Raya Cikijing - Talaha KM.3, Blok Mekarsari, Desa Banjaransari, Kec. Cikijing, Kab. Majalengka, Jabar.
Masjid yg sangat nyaman : ruang parkir mobil luas, tempat wudhu dan toilet bersih, ruang utama sholat yg adem, tempat istirahat yang nyaman untuk bersantai
Urdu Poetry SMS if we want share our feeling via send message Poetry 2 lines or 4 line and poem with a person may be a good friend this is called SMS Poetry Urdu
Urdu Poetry SMS
Hum Kisi ko Achay Nahi Lagte.
Dil Behlany K Liye Guftugu Krte Hain Loog Hum Se
Maloom To Mujhy Bhi Hai K Hum Kisi ko Achay Nahi Lagte.
Bohat hi saada hai tu aur zamaana ayaar*,
Bohat hi saada hai tu aur zamaana ayaar*,
Khuda kare tujhe sheher ki hawaa na lage..
garmi-e-hasrat-e-nakam se jal jate hain.
garmi-e-hasrat-e-nakam se jal jate hain.
hum charago ki tarha shaam se jal jate hain.
jab b ata hai tera naam mere naam k sath.
jane khyu log mere naam se jal jate hain.
Kon Poochta Hai Pinjre Mein
Kon Poochta Hai Pinjre Mein Band Panchio’n Ko
Yaad Wohi Aate Hein Jo Urr Jate Hein
Tumhein Kya Weham Hay
Tumhein Kya Weham Hay Kiun Raat Bhar Milnay Nahi Aatin
Aey Meri Neend Ki Pariyoon, Main Uss Ko Bhool Kar Khush Hoon
Mery Lehjay Pe
Mery Lehjay Pa Mat Chonko,Meri Aankhon Mein Mat Jhanko
Yun Hairat Se Na Dekho tm, Main Uss Ko Bhool Kar Khush Hoon
Badalti Rutt Ki Wajah
Badalti Rutt Ki Wajah Se, Zra Bojhal Tabiyat Hay
Yun Mera Haal Mat Poocho, Main Uss Ko Bhool Kar Khush Hoon
Kiyoon Us ko Mananay K Leye Us Ki minten kru Mai
Kiyoon Us ko Mananay K Leye Us Ki minten kru Mai
Mujhey Us Sy Mohabbat Hai Koi Matlab To Nai
Haqeeqat Hay
Haqeeqat Hay,Yaqeen Kar Lo,Main Uss Ko Bhool Kar Khush Hoon
Muhabbat Mar Chuki Ab To, Main Uss Ko Bhool Kar Khush Hoon
Mera Humraaz Hai
Mera Humraaz Hai Har Rang Ka Mausam Lekin.
Sham-e-Afsurdah Mujhe Sab Sey Juda Janti Hain.
Apny Buss Main Kar Laity Ho
Apny Buss Main Kar Laity Ho.
Uff Kitna Be-Bus Kar Daity Ho.
ajeeb rastay hain ye chahaton k beech
ajeeb rastay hain ye chahaton k beech
koi kisi ka sab kuch ha or koi kisi ka kuch bhi nahi
Uljha Rahi Hai Mujh Ko,
Uljha Rahi Hai Mujh Ko,
Yehi Kash Makash Musalsal
Wo Aa Basa Hai Mujh Mei,
Ya Mai Us Mei Kho Gai Hoon
Usay Hum Chor Den Lekin
Usay Hum Chor Den Lekin Bus ik Choti Si Uljhan Hai,
Suna Hai Dil Sy Dharkan Ki Judai Mout Hoti Hai.
Tum Se To Kheir Gharri Bhar
Tum Se To Kheir Gharri Bhar Ki Mulaaqat Rahi
Log Saddiyoon Ki Rafaaqat Ko Bhulaa Detay Hein.
Uljha Rahi Hai Mujh Ko,
Uljha Rahi Hai Mujh Ko,
Yehi Kash Makash Musalsal
Wo Aa Basa Hai Mujh Mei,
Ya Mai Us Mei Kho Gai Hoon
Choro yay wafa k qisey yay umron ka Rona Hai
Choro yay wafa k qisey yay umron ka Rona Hai
Pehle Kon Humara Tha Ab Kis Ne Humare hona
hai..!
Phata Purana Khawab
Phata Purana Khawab Hai Mera..
Main, Tum, Aur sath Tumhara…
Bhool Na Jaun Maangna
Bhool Na Jaun Maangna Use Har Namaaz K Baad,
Yahi Soch Kar Humne Naam Uska Dua Rakkha Hai.
Mujhy Qubool Hai Her Dard, Her Takleef Teri Chahat Me,,
Mujhy Qubool Hai Her Dard, Her Takleef Teri Chahat Me,,
Bas Itna Bata De Kiya Tujhy Meri Mohabbat Qubool Hai..?
Jin Ko Sath Nahi Dena Hota,
Jin Ko Sath Nahi Dena Hota,
Wo Aksar Roothay Rehtay Hen..!
Seekh Nahi Paya
Seekh Nahi Paya Me Meethay Jhoot Ka Hunar,,
Kadway Sach Ny Kai Log Chheen Liye Mujh Se..!
Bohat Saffaak Ho Tum Bhi..
Bohat Saffaak Ho Tum Bhi..
Mohabbat Aise Kerty Ho,,
K Jese Ghar K Pinjray Me,
Parinda Paal Rakha Ho..!
Ab tak khabar na thi ke mohabbat gunnah hai,
Ab tak khabar na thi ke mohabbat gunnah hai,
Ab jaan kar gunaah kiye jaa raha hoon main..
Yaadon ki aag thi ke khayalon ki chaandni
Yaadon ki aag thi ke khayalon ki chaandni,
Shab bhar mere makaan main ik roshni rahi..
Khuda Bakhsh Deta hai Unko Jinki Qismat Kharab Hoti Hai,,
Khuda Bakhsh Deta hai Unko Jinki Qismat Kharab Hoti Hai,,
Hergiz Nahi Bakhshta Unko Jinki Niyat Kharab Hoti Hai..!
Rabbana Aatin Fidunya hasanatouN, wa fil aakhirati hasanatouN, waqina azaaban-nar, Amin.
the most complete dua; asking for the best in this world, the best is the next, and protection against torment of hellfire.
1) For success in difficult situations.YA RAHIMO, YA KARIMO, YA MAQIMO, YA AZIMO, YA QADIMO, YA ALIMO, YA HALIMO, YA HAKEEMO
2) For victory and prosperityYA SYYEDAS-SADA-TE YA…
I just wanted to announce that I am looking for more beta readers to aid me in the shaping of my book ‘Let Us Be Glorious’. The book follows the lives of three heirs as they come to the harsh conclusion that the life they were given can just as easily be taken. The book centered around a kingdom based on the Gupta empire of India, the Swahili trade states of the East African coast, the Samburu people of Western Kenya. All of the main cast are lgbt+ people of color and I am working really hard to create a story that deals with themes of abuse and mental health without unnecessary glorification. Additionally, the role of religion will be explored which is something I have found to be really interesting to explore. I already have one BR but more eyes on my manuscript would be amazing!
Your job would mainly be to help me tie loose ends, order the chapters in the way that makes the most sense, and most importantly to provide feedback on character arcs/dialogue. Additionally, if you have are a practicing Muslim or Hindu, are from Northern India, or from Kenya’s eastern coast and would be interested in being a sensitivity reader, your expertise would be highly appreciated!
I have 8/9 chapters finished which is around 21,000 words give or take.
I’ll include the first chapter below the cut so that you can get a jist of how the story reads and my writing style.
If you are interested or know someone who would be, just shoot me a message or reply to this post!
Chapter 1
आ बैल मुझे मार
Transliteration: aa bael mujhe mar
Literal: inviting the bull to hit you
Nikhil grasped his notes tightly in his arms as he waited in front of the Maharaja’s chambers. He itched to move, to pace, to give the anxiety coursing through his veins an exit. He dared not move a single muscle, even when the tips of his quills began to stab into the beds of his nails. And so he stood, waiting. Pressing his broad shoulders to the wall as he heard the telltale whispers of gossip from the royal attendants as they floated past him. He let his gaze settle on the golden stone floor below him, staring at the grit of sand that had found a permanent home in between his toes. It was when his name left the lips of the rightmost attendant, whose sneering smirk and brief eye contact shook him, that the need to defend himself overpowered him. He wanted to say that the duties of the royal record keeper were sacred, a traditional position he was honored to hold. And that he had every right to be in the palace even if his old worn clothing said otherwise. Before he could even form the words in his mouth, the door of the chambers opened.
Aatin managed to catch him with a lanky finger in the air and chuckled at the sight. The Maharaj looked down the hallway, catching the barest hints of the attendant’s conversation as it bounced off the walls of the wide corridor. Nikhil lowered the opposing finger and straightened himself. He coughed, trying to shake the remnants of the embarrassing situation out of the air. But his Maharaj, the king of kings, made no such attempt.
“I’ll let them know not to tease you Nikhil. But you do not make it hard for them.” With a small smirk on his lips, Aatin began to stroll away. One gold sandaled foot in front of other.
Nikhil swallowed and followed on the heels of his Maharaj, fully knowing that he would not make today easy. Then again, when did he ever?
After taking a moment to steady himself, Nikhil readied the papers in his arms and began taking note of the Maharaj’s duties:
9:00 am
Began eating rice with milk curd. Snuck fried Modaka topped off with a drizzle of molasses even though there were no festivities to speak of. Asked for this “minor” detail to be deleted from the record and attempted bribe the record keeper with a particularly delicious looking piece of the fried dough.
10:00 am
Monthly meeting with the representatives of the regions, who presented the concerns and reports from their smaller kingdoms. Aatin quelled the fears from the southern region about the decreasing exports from Bazaar and made a promise to look into the issue further. The Maharaj made a point to reassure all of the representatives that the issues they brought before him would be on the forefront of his mind and then dismissed them.
10:30 am
Asked once again if the “Modaka incident,”could be wiped from the record as he prepared himself to go meet with his advisors. Record keeper refused to comment.
11:00 am
Met with the head advisors of Scientific Research and Developing Technology, Military Advancement, Social enrichment, and the Educational Arts. Each had plenty to say about their developments and the Maharaj listened wholeheartedly. He took a special interest in the new designs for the levi-carriages that Jaskaran, head of DT, had mocked up. Made some notes on the schematics and request a name change.
12:00 am
Sat down and began to write a response letter to the former assistant to the head of SR and DT and current Maharani. Record Keeper was dismissed for a moment while the letter was written. The Maharaj did seem tenser than he did before when he exited his chambers.
Maharaj excused himself for a ritual bath at the bathing pool. Record Keeper was dismissed once more.
1:00 pm
Sat down for lunch in the main hall. One serving of-
“You can cease with your notes Nikhil.” Aatin said as he moved to cross his legs behind himself to sit on his feet with practiced elegance. His white tunic bunched slightly as he sat and he made a quick motion to adjust the crooked ivory and gold crown atop his head.
Nikhil moved to sit on the other side of the mahogany table that laid between them both. He made note of how plush the amber and marigold trimmed rug was under him and set his papers down for the first time in hours. After a few moments, an attendant came with a pitcher full of water and a bowl. She dipped her fingers in the pitcher and sprinkled the water around their dishes with care, as to not soak the food in the liquid. Once she was done, she left the pitcher and the wide bowl on the table in front of the Maharaj and returned to the kitchen. Aatin rinsed his right hand before handing the pitcher and bowl off to Nikhil, who awkwardly did the same. Once the pitcher and the bowl were returned to the side of the table, Aatin spoke a soft prayer underneath his breath. The words were spoken too quietly for Nikhil to hear, but then again they weren’t for him. Such words, spoken with such reverence, only deserve to be heard by the Gods themselves. He did, however, wish that he could speak to them directly like Aatin could.
When he was finished with his short prayer, Aatin gestured for him to partake of the spread. Gingerly, Nikhil reached for one of many chapatis on the table. The warmth of the freshly baked flatbread in his hands brought a warm sense of comfort to him. His ma sitting and pounding dough, layering spices and oils to make each chapati tastier than the last. Her braided hair coming loose as she worked, her smile bright as she gazed at him through a curtain of her own hair. There was no way these chapattis could compare to hers. No matter how royal or they were. And it was only when he took a bite that his assumptions were proven to be true.
The silence that consumed them both as they ate was filled to the brim with Nikhil’s nervous energy. He did not dare to look the Maharaj, though he longed to. He longed to meet his gaze and have a mundane lunch with the man. But such low-level conversations were not befitting for a man of such caliber. A man who inherited his Gamar’s throne and his people who nearly worshiped the ground his pitaji stepped. A man who ended the rivalry of the Eastern and Western regions over one tense dinner that left the kings of both sides more hungry for peace than war. A man who managed to create such prosperity, rule with such wisdom that the intellectuals were now going to him for knowledge. A man who, at this very moment, almost had an entirely new feast collecting in the graying hair of his long beard that he had yet to acknowledge. There were hundreds of questions Nikhil wanted to ask and hundreds of possible answers that he could receive. He did not know how to ask any of them, how to word any of them, and so they hung in the air. Thick, heavy, and ultimately hard to swallow.
"Speak your mind, my servant," Aatin said as he wiped vegetable stew from his beard with a cloth napkin. "As long as it's off the record."
Nikhil sighed as he laid his quill to rest with the rest of his notes on the floor. “My Maharaj, you’ve laid down the foundations for the Second Golden Age despite all of the exterior turmoil that surrounds our great kingdom and done so much more. My question is: what can’t you do?”
Aatin leaned back on his crossed feet. His mint green eyes stared at the ceiling for a second, as if the answers were painted there.
“Out of all the battles, all the mistakes, and all the treaties I’ve made,” he paused for a moment, “by far the biggest challenge would have to be managing my own family.”
Without thinking Nikhil’s eyebrow raised, “Why is that, my Maharaj?”
He smiled, letting out a gentle chuckle. "There are definite answers when it comes to such conflicts. Definite resolutions that need to made to please both sides." He sighed, "but there is no such logic to a family. It seems no matter how much I try to bring everyone together, they all push further away." Nikhil nodded, feigning understanding as his confusion mounted.
Aatin ran a hand down his face. “How can I lament my problems on my record keeper, as if I don’t have twelve others who already hold that position. I apologize if my answer was not one you expected, but it is the truth.” With that, he stood and dismissed Nikhil for the remainder of the day.
Dumbfounded, Nikhil packed his supplies and proceeded to exit the palace. The palace's crimson and gold archways and accompany banisters shone brightly in the afternoon sun. At this time of day, it was impossible not to walk around and study the sight. The intricate portraits of past rulers and shrines to eternal gods were painted on nearly every wall. Each painted detail told a story, one that could never be truly encapsulated into words. A wave a jealousy always washed over him as he examined whatever new details were added.
Though he tried his best to not stare at the painters as they worked, it was not an easy task. Their thin horsehair brushes laid down paint with ease. Hundreds of different shades of colors that he did not even know existed surrounded their feet like the worshipping masses would a shrine. Their movements were so free, yet each stroke they made was flushed with a glorious purpose. He imagined that if he held such talent, such prowess towards his own words weaving them with ease like the painters do with paint, then maybe someday he too would require his own record keeper. It’s as he let his eyes wander around the tall walls of the palace, that he managed to amble past one of the more private chambers.
The Maharajkumari was seated on her feet overlooking a wide sheet of parchment. Multiple books laid around her knees, each opened to a different page. Her attention darting quickly between them like a chital would through a dense forest. She made quick accented marks with a gold quill, brow furrowing in confusion as she stared at the result. Another quill hung in her hair, it’s ink had begun to trail down her cheeks and onto the floor below. She did not notice or care about the mess she was making, and it was no surprise that her hands are even worse off. Luckily, the ink had yet to track onto the sleeves of her light green choli, whose fabric came only to right above her navel.
He was no expert in fashion, not by a long shot, but the detailing on the garment was captivating. A yellow, almost golden, embroidered emblem stretched over her chest and branched down the sleeves. The sleeves themselves only reached her forearms, yet were still rolled back to avoid the fray of her creation. As she bent over to get a closer look at her parchment, the fabric of her choli tightened. The garment was never to supposed to look so constricting and the cord that tied the top to her body looked uncomfortably taut. Her sari, which featured the same details, laid on the bed behind her. The lengthy garment, although created of such thin fabric and crumpled in heap, still screamed of elegance. The same could not be said for her bhairnivasani whose cream fabric and light green embroidery was littered with black smudged fingerprints.
He remembered this skirt. It was one that she wore during her courtyard archery exhibition that her pitaji had attended. He watched from Aatin’s side, quill and parchment primed. As she readied herself, her man like forearms bulging slightly under the rigid string of the bow, the warm desert breeze blew past her. The skirt fluttered in the wind, the green, and gold pattern that edged its bottom shifting to reveal her calloused sandaled feet. It was when she had hit her target that she had turned to the both of them, waiting for some form of reaction. Sweat littered her brow, her eyes were bright and expecting. Aatin smiled and nodded in her direction, and if he had remembered correctly, a smile as wide as the Ganges had lit up her face. Looking at skirt now, would it ever look as beautiful as it did that day? Or if it would spend the rest of its existence in her growing pile of ruined clothing that the attendants so fondly spoke of?
After making the mistake of jostling the papers in his arms slightly, she immediately turned to him. Her eyes were both curious and angry at the disruption. She rose from her feet, brushing a lock of her weirdly cut curly dark hair out of her face, and languidly stepped towards the doorway. The lock persisted and covered her right eye entirely as she approached him. She looked him up and down, scrunching her nose at the sight of how tightly he held his quills. He felt as though he were fully nude under the stare of her dark emerald green left eye and his cheeks began to warm. Her eyes were much darker than Aatin’s, yet the resemblance to her pitaji was easily found in the currently unfavorable curl of her lips. The small mole under her left eye moved ever so slightly as if it too was scoffing at him. Once she reached the doorway she shut it slowly, just so he could see the words, "leave at once" drip venomously down her lips.
As the door closed and Amina continued her work on the other side, that he let his lungs expel the breath he was holding. After taking a moment to gather himself, he briskly walked down a flight of stairs towards the entrance of the palace. His thoughts were scrambled as he raced into the sand-covered stone streets of the D'aaspoire. The narrow alleyways were lined with tall single and multi-story stone buildings. As he walked, the whistling of a woman above him floated through the air as she tended to her laundry. The smell of smoke drifted past his nose from the sitting room of another house. A group of kids brushed passed him as they chased each other. Their laughter bounced off the walls, and though they were now far, their lively chatter was still audible.
The silhouette of Maariya, who sold mangoes and lychees in large woven baskets outside of her one-roomed home, became more defined as he approached her. She always claimed that her fruit was the best in the kingdom, citing that they were grown with love by her brother who lived in the Eastern city of B'aashidu for their unmatched taste. She always spoke so lovingly of her brother and of the city as if she was there joining him in the long rows of fruit trees, tending and picking. She looked suited for such work, suited for such a life. Her light green hijab and tunic fluttered in the warm breeze. Even when the cloth was soaked with the sweat of day’s work, she always returned the next morning in the same sand covered clothing. The same large smile pleasantly greeting everyone who passed gracefully placed on her face. The same weaved baskets full with yesterday’s excess that still tasted just as sweet as it did when it arrived the morning before. As he neared Maariya, who gazed at him fondly before waving, a single question came into his mind. How was her body able travel to D’aaspoire when her heart clearly lied elsewhere? A lilt of Magadhi colored her Hindi as she greeted him and turned back to her produce basket to place a ripe mango in his hands. She spoke rapidly, her words slurred together into an engaging mush of syllables and consonants. This dialect was not one he had a grasp on, yet she spoke to him as if he did. As if he understood the deep homesickness that laid hidden underneath each flick of her tongue. As if he too was acquainted with the feeling of desperately wanting to be understood in a world that was more content with giving fleeting acknowledgments. Not wanting to make a residence out of his mind, Nikhil complemented her hijab and accepted the fruit as he usually did. He bowed to thank her before continuing on his trek home, faintly noticing the blush on the middle-aged woman's cheeks.
Forty steps later, he reached the doorway of his two-story home. It was not luxurious as other houses this size and lacked multiple pieces of furniture that the salesman two streets away said he should have, but he found its emptiness strangely soothing nonetheless. Jui was too busy preparing the afternoon meal to notice his return. She was sweeping the dust from the kitchen, the late afternoon caused a faint ring of light to surround her. Her hips swaying as she hummed a hymn that drifted softly through the air. This was far from unusual. His attendant had lost multiple jobs before this one for her absent-mindedness and her lack of attention to detail. Though Nikhil did not see these traits as inherently negative. In fact, he himself valued her silence and although did find some aspects of her employment unfavorable, overall she was a joy to have around.
Nikhil snuck up the stairs to his room, careful not to interrupt whatever tune had Jui’s fancy that day. After setting his notes and the mango on a small table, he sat on his bed and finally let his mind decompress from a day of constant observation. There were so many things that he clouded his mind, yet the Maharaj’s answer and his daughter intense gaze took his mind hostage. Despite the fact that he now understood the Maharaj’s answer to his question, it did not mean he wasn’t overflowing with more.
The first of many being: How could a woman as young as twenty-five, feel as ancient as Brahma himself?
kifa7oun wa layssat rafahiyatoun bal as7abou a rafahiyati fi awda3ina al 7aliyati houm al 3ib’ou 3ala moujtama3ina wa man youkafi7ou houa al 7al, wajaba 3alayna idan an nasna3a chababoun moukafi7oun houm fi 3oumki datihim 3akssou ma dakarna, wa layssou bi darourati ounassoun fouqaraa’oun bal minhoum man yatroukou a dounyati ka tarkihi li jid3in akhwaroun bal sira3ouna layssa sira3ou tabaqaatin mara minhou ma mara wa aatin minhou ma aatin, sira3ouna fi al 7aqiqati sira3oun fikriyoun, wa assassouhou al kifa7ou wa layssa a rafahiyati a zaa’ifati rafahiyatoun tahtoufou bi hachachati awdaa3i oumatina wa dou3fi a7waaliha li ana tilka a rafahiyati hiya moustanidatin li moujtama3in faachilin wajaba 3alayna i3aadatou saghrihi li kay yasmou li ma natma7ou ilayhi wa laa an yakouna qachoun tatala3abou bihi a riya7i, fa ina faqidi al qiimati ya ssayidina laa you3abirou 3anha bi madharin mina al madahiri wa laa you3tiha li a7adin, hakada idan chi’naa a nakouna moustamidina qouwatina min kifa7ina wa houa kifaa7oun 3amiiqoun, al baa’thou touma al baa’thou, al baa’thou wa law kharati al jibaalou, qassamouna bi al baat’hi alaa inahou aatin chaa’a man chaa’a wa abaa man abaa, fa ina al baat’hou rabi3ou qouloubina laa noubadilihou b ghamaamatin wa naqoulou 3anha tilka hiya najwa, kaana man younaqidouna siwa zoumratin mina al moustafidina mina al fassaadi al 3aa’imi yan3atouna bi a thawriyiina wa na7nou na3tazou bi hada bal na7nou chabaabou a thawrati a chaamilati 3ala moustafidii al fassaadi al mounkassirina ta7ta wat’ati man youqabilouna fi al 3oumoumi wa yat3anou fi douhourina ida khalaa li mitlihi, layssou bi moubadilii chay’in min ma wassafna bal ma houm fiihi houa ma yatma7ouna ilyahi, idaa khalaw li anfoussihim yaqoulouna na7nou 3oussbatin wa naqoulou lahoum na7nou al oumatou al baa’thiyatou a chaamilatou al khaariqatou al qaahiratou, bal tomou7oukoum ma7doudin dayiqou al mandoori yan7assirou 3ala jidaarati qoussourikoum, laa tahoummouna fi chay’in wa laa nassghi ilaykoum bal ma nassghi ilayhi houa tomo7ati oumatina al baa’thiyatou wa antoum lastou minha bi chay’in, wa bi tabi3ati al 7aali la yahoumouna intiqaadoun aw na3toun bal maa yahoumouna ahamou wa asmaa bi kateerin min dalika, ayana yakounou sajiinou qassrihi mitla man yamchii 7ouroun taleeqoun la bal hiya idan isti7alatoun an touqirou bi ma natmou7ou ilayhi, wa antoum man yastafiidou mina al fassaadi wa youssamihi rafahiyatoun wa na7nou man natroukou a rafahiyatou wa noussamihi kifaa7oun, kayfa touqirouna bi ma na7nou 3alayhi wa antoum man yas3aa fi a rafahiyati bidouni jadwaa wa na7nou man yas3aa fi al jadwati touma al jadwaa, kountoum tadounouna ana a rafahiyatou hiya al ghaayatou al qousswaa balaa inahou al kifa7ou wa layssa chay’oun ila al kifaa7ou, al kifaa7ou ma yassna3ou al oumatou al baath’iyatou a samiyatou wa layssat jidaaratou qoussourikoum al 3aaliyatou, ayana tousbi7ou qoussourikoum roukmatin mina tourabi wa yabqaa chi3arou al baa’thou fi al oufouki al a3laa, wa naqoulou lahoum khitaaman ana qadiyatouna lan touhzam li anaha qadiyatou mabaadi’in wa kiyaanoun wa oumatin chi’naa an yasmou bi kifa7ina 3ala a rafahiyati wa ma fihaa wa ja3alnahou dameeroun bihi na7yaa
Ang kapangyarihgan ng wika ang wika ng kapangyarihan
Maraming paraan upang sakupin ang isang bansa, ngunit para tuluyan mong magapi at maalipin ang isang bansa sakupin mo siya gamit ang wika, was akin a ng kaniyang kultura at ipalit ang iyong kultura.
Maraming gamit ang wika, di lamang ito kasangkapan sa kominikasyon bagkus ito ay isa ring b paraan upang makapagpalitaan ng mga ideya mula sa isang tao patungo sa isa pang indibidwal o grupo. Ang kahalagahn ng wika sapagkat ito ay nagppakita ng pagkakalinlan ng isang indibidwal o isang mamayan ng isang bansa. Ang paggamit ng iyong sariling wika ay isang manifestasyon at pa pagprepreserba ng ating “national identity”. Ito ay isang kakiabang o natatnging uri ng pagkokomunika at pakikipagsalamuha sa kapwa nating mga kababayan. Ang wika ay dapat na isang instrument sa komunikasyon, ngunit ditto sa ating bansa na ang lingwahe ay FILIPINO ang paggamit ng wikang ingles ay isang sukatan para s akatalinuhan, ang paggamit ng wikang ingles ay sukatan ng galling at husay ng isang indibidwal na tumataliwas sa pangunahing layunin ng wika na pagpapalit ng mga ideya at kasangkapan ng komunikasyon. Ito ay nag tulak sa aking isipan ng isang tanong, Kailangan nga ba natin ang wikang ingles?
Ang wika ay isang kasangkapan para sa komunikasyon 25 porsyento ng tao sa mundo ay marunong I di namna kay ay gumagamit ng English bilang paraan ng pagkokomunika sa iabng lahi o di naman kaya sang lipi. Sabi ni dr jose rizal ng ating PAMBANSANG bayani ang hindi magmahal sa ating sariling wika ay daig pa ang hayop at malansang isda.” Pero hanggang saan nga ba natin kaya maging o mag pakapilipino ang paggamit b ng wikang English ay nangangahulugan na tayo ay ‘ di makapilipino?” . an gating pambansang bayani ay isang polyglot, nangangahulugan mahusay siya sa 22 languages na Hebrew, Greek, German, Portuguese Italian, English, Dutch, Japanese, Arabic, Swedish, Russian, Chinese, Greek, Hebrew, and Sanskrit and local languages Malay chavacano,visayan Ilocano Pero siya ay ating pambansang bayani
Tinukoy English ang opisyal at nagtatrabaho wika ng United Nations. Lahat ng uri ng summits at mga pulong ng mga ulo ng estado, pag-sign ng mga batas at mga utos, pag-uusap at debate — lahat ng itinuturo sa Ingles. International trade in, sistema ng pagbabangko, ang mga gawain ng sistema ng transportasyon sa lupa, sa dagat at sa hangin ay isinasagawa sa Ingles. Ang wikang ito ay isang kasangkapan sa komunikasyon na pamumuhay para sa akademya, mga doktor, mga siyentipiko sa buong mundo. Para sa mga internasyonal na kumperensya, pag-aaral ng internasyonal na karanasan at makipagpalitan ng impormasyon agham isipan maganap lamang sa paggamit ng wikang Ingles. Sinasabi rin ng iilan na ang paggamit ng wikang ingles ay susi para sa ating pagangat sa ekonomiya ngunit hindi yan totoo, ang Thailand ay isang mayroong malagong ekonomiya ngunit hindi sila ganoon kagaling mag ingles at iba nag kanilang pagsasalita ng wikang ingles na halos di mo nga raw maintindihan o pagpapawisan ka bago mo maintindihan ngunit ang Thailand ay isang tigre ngunit tayo na ipinalalandakan na magling tayo sa wikang ingles ay tila mga basing sisiw lamng kumpara sa Thailand.makikita ang kaunlaran ng Thailand sa kaniyang mga imprastraktura mga gusali , skyway, at sa mga pagawaan at higit na mas malaki ang turismo ng Thailand kum para s aatin bagamt sila ay mas “mahina” pag dting sa pagsaslaita ng wikang ingles. May mga magsasabi na ang mga bansang japan, korea, Thailand at Indonesia ay nagtutulak ng pag gamit o pagkatuto ng ingles at bakit tayo tataliwas o tutungo sa kabilang direksyon?
Ito ay sa kadahilanang ang mg abansang nabanggit ay mayroon ng matatga na wika napayaman na nila ang kanilang wika at bagamat puspusan ang pagtulak ng mga ito sa pagkatuto ng wikang ingles ay di nila gusto o walang may kagustuhan sa kanila o nagnanais na palitan ang sarili nilang wika, ang wika kanilang pinagmulan sa wikang ingles.
Di naman natin maaring mapagkaila na kailangan talga natin ang wikang ingles sapagkat ito ang nagsisilbing conneksyon natin sa labas n gating bansa o conneksyon para sa komunikasyon natin sa iba pang mga lipi ngunit di dapat nation gawin itong PANGUNAHING WIKA mahalag o dapat bigyang ddin at halaga ang salitang “: pangalawa” dahil ang ingles ay di nagsimula sa atying mga ninuno , di nasgimula o nagnggaling sa mga unag Pilipino bagkus ito ay galling sa mga dahuyang nanakopp at inabuso an gating bansa.
It was? OMG. Tumblr has already started on my blog going through things. Grrrr. I haven’t received any notification about it. What did it say? @noonespecialisback