The world is like a ride in an amusement park. And when you choose to go on it, you think it's real because that's how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round. It has thrills and chills and it's very brightly coloured and it's very loud and it's fun, for a while.

Some people have been on the ride for a long time and they begin to question, is this real, or is this just a ride? And other people have remembered, and they come back to us, they say, "Hey - don't worry, don't be afraid, ever, because, this is just a ride…"

And we kill those people.

Happiness…is basically an emotion.
If you wish to get down to the basics.

Otherwise, it's usually the happiest thing to be. It's that really light n wonderful feeling you get when you're absolutely satisfied with whatever's going on in the world around you. It's that feeling you get when you've just won that contest you've worked all month for. It's that feeling you get when you're sitting in a corner of your favourite mall thinking about what a rotten world it is, and

This Poem was supposedly nominated as the Best Poem for 2005, but where and how i do not know. And even if it actually wasn't, trust me, you wouldn't want to miss reading it for the world.
It goes like this:

When I born, I Black.
When I grow up, I Black.
When I go in Sun, I Black.
When I cold, I Black.
When I scared, I Black.
When I sick, I Black.
And when I die, I still Black.
And you White fella,
When you born, you Pink...
When you grow up, you White...
When you go in Sun, you Red...
When you cold, you Blue...
When you scared, you Yellow...
When you sick, you Green...
And when you die, you Gray...
And you calling me Colored ?????

Makes you sit back and think a bit, doesn't it? :)

I was reminded, after reading the blog titled 'A Yatra into your own self', of something one of my uncles said not so long ago - "Even if you do end up winning the rat race, you're still a rat." That's one quote I'm not going to forget in a hurry..:)

Once when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter. This family made a big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of 12. You could tell they didn't have a lot of money. Their clothes were not expensive, but they were clean. The children were well-behaved, all of them standing in line, two-by- two behind their parents, holding hands.

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.

In the 60's, a well-known musician and drama actor brought his son to All India Radio for audition. After the recording, AIR rejected him saying his voice was not suited for broadcasting. Years later, it is a well-known fact that AIR cannot have a day without broadcasting his voice. The son was none other than our KJ Jesudas.

There is a true story of a very touching experience. An old man collapsed on a street corner in Brooklyn, New York, U.S.A. and was rushed to Kings County Hospital. The nurse on duty, after some inquiry, "discovered" that a certain marine stationed in North Carolina might be the man's son. She called the officer-in-charge and requested that the marine be sent to the hospital.

A boy was sitting on a park bench with one hand resting on an open Bible. He was loudly exclaiming his praise to God. "Hallelujah! Hallelujah! God is great!" he yelled without worrying whether anyone heard him or not.

Along came a man who had recently completed some studies at a local university. Feeling himself very enlightened in the ways of truth and very eager to show this enlightenment, he asked the boy about the source of his joy.

A little boy was told by the doctor that he could save his sister's life by giving her some blood. The six-year-old girl was near death, a victim of a disease from which the boy had made a marvelous recovery two years earlier. Her only chance for restoration was a blood transfusion from someone who had previously conquered the illness. Since the two children had the same rare blood type, the boy was the ideal donor.