Hi, Welcome to my blog.

MY SON WILL NOT A BEGGAR BE    (What things does a normal child like to see ? Was ved's childhood different from that of other children ?)     In India as elsewhere enery girl or boy has fond and warm memories of his childhood, from the day he begins to talk to his mother and father. Invariably a child learns and recognizes the faces of his mother and father, of sesters and brothers who play with  him, or the servants who prepare his meals or watch him play in a nursery full of toys. He must also remember the rich colours of the butterflies and birds which children enerywhere always love to watch. But when I was three and a half, all these memories were wxpunged, and with the prolonged sickness (meningitis I started living in a world of four sense - that is , a world in which colours and faces and light and darkness are unkonwn. If my age and the sickness deprived my of the treasured memories of sight, they also reduced things which are v...

 . IN THE NAME OF A WISH SISTER      My dear sister, I love you very much because you are the best sister in this world who tries to bring happines in this whole world is something that no one is destined to soon Is found.     So do you know if there is anything else for me or you tomorrow, but whatever happens, you are supporthing me today as much as you used to, And In this world, every brother should have a sister just like you because you are the most wonderful and I am writing this little story for you from my heart. I want to say again, "You are my best sister"    Do not know whether they will come back or not on their childhood days, so this day is the only support that we have right now, full of full evergy, so a small request is to be happy and keep everyone happy.   forever remeber. "A little story named often my dear sister" -HIMANSHU KUMAR             ...

A CASE OF SUSPICION ( A country doctor sets out to help a patient in the middle of a windy night. Whom does he meet on the way ? And, what does he learn ? Let's read and find out.)   He threw back the covers and sat up on his bed, his feet feeling along the cold floor for his house slippers, the telephone ringing insistently, a little distance away. He turned on the light and walked to the phine, and took down the receiver. "This Doctor Benson," he said. The November wind was bringing sounds of winter as it blew around the little white house. The doctor got into his clothes. He went to the table and stared a moment at his watch, his spirit complaint at the horrible hour and he wondered why children had to be boun at such improper times. He took up two smail handbags, the short pill bag, as the people of the town know it, and the long obstetrical case, the haby bag they called it.    Doctor Benson stopped a moment to light and, then put the pack of cigar...