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“if you heart is throbbing , if you feel like there is no enough amount of the blood pumping in your veins to keep you on two legs, if you feel like the death seems to be attractive than life, please, do say something.
Don’t let the agony of the crazy world just rest on you. Someone somewhere loves you. Believe me, someone really really loves you or will love you through out. I like you! The news of your death would cause lot of pain and will surely resonate around the world. You will be missed, so will your existence. Yes! Yes! Yes! You! Ahhhh let these words pass through your head and body and take deep long breath. Feel it like never before… you are here. And you were supposed to be here…”
Pathak a beautiful traditional jewelry. A great history is also been attached to it.
Pathak ( kodava mangalasutra) was worn by the gorgeous devi-kanye( apsara).
In the yester years the earth was visited by the gods and the goddess and devi-kanye was one of the goddess; she fell In love with a man who was a prince. The prince was new to the place and had lost his way back hunting and was relaxing under a tree awestruck by the beautiful view of the kodava land.
Inclined on the tree, surrounded by nature covered in all her glory, the misty clouds, the copulating call of the birds and animals reverberated the silent valley below, the air filled with desire and the sight of beautiful maiden took him by surprise. He fell in love instantly.
Overlooking his exhaustion, his lost entourage, and empire, they spent some beautiful moments together. However, both the Devi-Kanye and the prince were completely aware of the fact that her father and family would oppose and forbid her from marrying him. They would stop her from leaving the heaven again and any effort from her to meet him would cost her status of the Devi-hood.
There was no choice but to part from each other and when it was time for her to leave she started crying. She walked the path back home with heavy heart and tears in her eyes, looking pathetic. On the way she met her old acquaintance, the Naga-Deva and Devate (Snake God & Goddess). They approached her asking why the usual cheerful maiden had tears in her eye and also said If there is any way they could help her to make her happy?
Upon hearing her story, they wanted to help her and the wise couple came up with a solution to her problem. They said there is a way for her to marry him without him tying the managalasutra and be his wife but with one condition.
As a human her husband cannot tie the mangalasutra to her but someone from her world can tie the knot on his behalf and she can retain her Devi-hood. But that someone has to be very unique because they should love and care for her more than anyone that ever existed in the three worlds and also does without expecting anything in return.
They suggested that she should approach her mother and ask her to tie the mangalasutra and sanctify her relationship with her prince charming. They also promised her that both of them would stand guard for her protecting from all the evils and perils in the human world.
Her kind hearted, sympathetic mother agreed to tie the mangalasutra and symbolize the marriage so that she could go and live with her lover. Her father and the rest of the family also agreed to let her go too. Hence she got married in heaven by her mother with her family blessings and left to her husband’s house the following day.
Even today Kodavas have two Muhurthas on same day. One is separate with each one’s family and the other one “dampathi-muhurtha” (dampathi means couple) with the presence of both the families, something perhaps is one of its kind!!
To this day the Pathak holds a snake hood on top prominently as protection and also a tribute to the Naga Deva and Devate.
Life is too petite to fall for people who don’t adore you loudly, or for relationships that don’t set fervour to your humanity.
Our while on this terrain is temporary, and in the short years we must love audaciously.
The soul you’re meant to be with will test you, will thrust you, will make you foolish and joyful and muddled, and show you what factual, intricate love is.
The soul you’re meant to be with will horrify you because they make you sense something.
So this is what you must to know about love—you must constantly hunt the person who jolts you. Don’t settle for luxury because it’s accustomed. Don’t be gratified with what you know because there’s a domain out there waiting for you. And life’s too petite not to chase that.
Fall for the soul who horrifies you because they have new-fangled ways of viewing at the domain, because they are diverse, because there is nearly unexplainable connection that is hauling you rear to him or her, no matter how ample you try to repudiate it.
Fall for the soul who horrifies you because you sense something when you look into his or her eyes; and because terrifying is a change, a test, and both of those possessions will help you grow.
Fall for the soul who terrifies you because what the netherworld else is our tenacity on this terrain than to love and love stupidly, audaciously, completely?
Life is too petite to clutch yourself back from feeling something intensely. Life’s too petite to repudiate your emotion the inclination of tumbling into someone, and giving them your soul. Life’s too petite to fictitious that you’ll find love where it’s relaxed and laid-back, because in all authenticity, love will never be laid-back. And that’s the most striking part.
Life’s too petite not to chase people that jolt you, because those individuals are the ones who will change your life. And we’re all searching for that love that will change our whole lives.
The cosmos poultices and expands, there are more stars in the blue than figures we have names for, moving gas hulks look like lollipops, we move without stirring, you are never the only one conscious at night, the city carries lifeless objects to life, serenity can still bloom in gaps– I don’t know if there’s a being accountable for these little wonders but because they occur there is still something good out there and I hope that’s reason ample for you to believe in healthier days.”
If you’re elucidation this and you’re not blissful right now, you will be. I don’t know what you’re working through. Everybody have their own type of nightfall that they’re vexing to make sagacity of, but no matter how shadowy it gets, you’ll do it. Things will get healthier, you will get better. Life will become cheerful, and you’ll look back on days like these when you couldn’t look onward to the next hour, let alone the next day. When you do, you’ll smile, maybe even giggle, and it’ll hit you. You turned out just fine
“I don’t think retrieval is a straight road. I don’t think it gradually gets better. Some days, you feel like hovering, like everything is lenient and warm and the dusks are long without being wretched. Some dusks you wake up with so much subtlety, with wings mounting out of your back, with your slithers touching the stars from your boudoir window.
Other days, however, you wake up wanting to croak again. Everything feels dense and dawdling and your slithers will twinge with coldness. These days, you won’t bother. You’ll latch yourself in your tiny world, feel the heaviness of the whole world descend into your crust. These days, you’ll sit in stillness in digs full of noise, feel your chest squeeze. These days, you’ll text everyone and tell them you miss them. These days, they don’t reply. These days, your associates make fun of how inaudible you become, how you certainly not say a thing.
These days, you tell them you’re worn-out. You tell them you haven’t napped. You don’t tell them about the scorch in your trunk, how living became a problem. How soft loss looks, how frequently you think of rambling onto busy lanes in rush hour.
These days, though, will pass. One day, you’ll wake up feeling bright again, feel the stars at the tip of your slithers, instil yourself to vex again. One day, you’ll overlook what all that heaviness felt like, what thinking of demise felt like.
Today I loved waking up to the sound of rain. I loved the swoosh of cars out on the street as they hiss by on their way to deliver their denizens to some place dry. I love memories of yellow raincoats and neoprene boots and walking to the stable to do the routines in the rain but inside my own little vault of guard. I love rainy days spent on doorways and galleries with comfy chairs, hot nibbles, and warm jumpers. I love the sight of blossoming shrubs in the rain, each bloom somnolent in gratitude of the gift of water from the atmosphere to the earth, as if they are all busy excluding the dewdrops, keeping track of the dues of presents so as to be able to opine the earth when the time comes to repay it with more tinges, more flush, more seasonal. I love the way the day just feels like board playoffs and inglenooks whenever there is a good rain.
Today I love hot chocolate in the quiet of a rainy DUSK . It’s a grey din kind of muffled and throbbing soft that feels good. I love supping at my cup while I reckon the gifts I get from life and make plans to repay those gifts with delight.
Earth is just not what we know; warm equator and poles covered with snow, rotation and revolution around the sun and which brings night and days of fun. Ozone, rain and layers of protection.
work through till the end with an intention.
who knows the reason behind them; why the rivers flow? Why the winds blow? Why are we born to grow?
the truth is fauna is wiser than we know.
hush i can see a gleam of light in the sky, it is almost striking me up. i cannot believe i have been gratified by an angel of love, let the hail come down and wash away my cries let it fill my soul and drown away my dreads let it shatter.
The wall for a new spell and a new era has come. Where there was nightfall now there is light. Where there was agony now there is happiness. Where there was feebleness i found my power and found them all in an eye of a boy.
Hush yes a new day has come…
Every hurtle sacked signifies in the final sense, a prudence from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are taciturn and are not arrayed. This world in munitions is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its drudges, the prodigy of its experts, the hopes of its pro genies. This is not a mode of life at all in any real sense. Under the mists of war, it is humankind hanging on a cross of iron.