*Story of Appreciation*

 

Translated from Chinese.

This is a powerful message in our modern society. We seemed to have lost our bearing & our sense of direction.

*Story of Appreciation*

One young academically excellent person went to apply for a managerial position in a big company.

He passed the first interview, the director did the last interview, made the last decision.

The director discovered from the CV that the youth’s academic achievements were excellent all the way, from the secondary school until the postgraduate research, never had a year when he did not score.

The director asked, “Did you obtain any scholarships in school?” the youth answered “none”.

The director asked, ” Was it your father who paid for your school fees?” The youth answered, “My father passed away when I was one year old, it was my mother who paid for my school fees.

The director asked, ” Where did your mother work?” The youth answered, “My mother worked as clothes cleaner. The director requested the youth to show his hands. The youth showed a pair of hands that were smooth and perfect.

The director asked, ” Have you ever helped your mother wash the clothes before?” The youth answered, “Never, my mother always wanted me to study and read more books. Furthermore, my mother can wash clothes faster than me.

The director said, “I have a request. When you go back today, go and clean your mother’s hands, and then see me tomorrow morning.*

The youth felt that his chance of landing the job was high. When he went back, he happily requested his mother to let him clean her hands. His mother felt strange, happy but with mixed feelings, she showed her hands to the kid.

The youth cleaned his mother’s hands slowly. His tear fell as he did that. It was the first time he noticed that his mother’s hands were so wrinkled, and there were so many bruises in her hands. Some bruises were so painful that his mother shivered when they were cleaned with water.

This was the first time the youth realized that it was this pair of hands that washed the clothes everyday to enable him to pay the school fee. The bruises in the mother’s hands were the price that the mother had to pay for his graduation, academic excellence and his future.

After finishing the cleaning of his mother hands, the youth quietly washed all the remaining clothes for his mother.

That night, mother and son talked for a very long time.

Next morning, the youth went to the director’s office.

The Director noticed the tears in the youth’s eyes, asked: ” Can you tell me what have you done and learned yesterday in your house?”

The youth answered, ” I cleaned my mother’s hand, and also finished cleaning all the remaining clothes’

The Director asked, ” please tell me your feelings.”

The youth said, Number 1, I know now what is appreciation. Without my mother, there would not the successful me today. Number 2, by working together and helping my mother, only I now realize how difficult and tough it is to get something done. Number 3, I have come to appreciate the importance and value of family relationship.

The director said, ” This is what I am looking for to be my manager. I want to recruit a person who can appreciate the help of others, a person who knows the sufferings of others to get things done, and a person who would not put money as his only goal in life. You are hired.

Later on, this young person worked very hard, and received the respect of his subordinates. Every employee worked diligently and as a team. The company’s performance improved tremendously.

A child, who has been protected and habitually given whatever he wanted, would develop “entitlement mentality” and would always put himself first. He would be ignorant of his parent’s efforts. When he starts work, he assumes that every person must listen to him, and when he becomes a manager, he would never know the sufferings of his employees and would always blame others.

For this kind of people, who may be good academically, may be successful for a while, but eventually would not feel sense of achievement. He will grumble and be full of hatred and fight for more. If we are this kind of protective parents, are we really showing love or are we destroying the kid instead?*

You can let your kid live in a big house, eat a good meal, learn piano, watch a big screen TV. But when you are cutting grass, please let them experience it. After a meal, let them wash their plates and bowls together with their brothers and sisters. It is not because you do not have money to hire a maid, but it is because you want to love them in a right way.

You want them to understand, no matter how rich their parents are, one day their hair will grow gray, same as the mother of that young person.

The most important thing is your kid learns how to appreciate the effort and experience the difficulty and learns the ability to work with others to get things done.

End.

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Why We Fail – By Ghandhi.

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A Short Story – My Father’s Son!

A Short Family Story!

 

My Father’s Son!

(Or But I Told Your Mother….!)

 

Go on in and greet your Father – the boy’s mother prompted the son.  It is Eid Day and it is in our customs, tradition and heritage to visit and greet parents and the elders on this auspicious day.  Go on in – the Mother prompted the son again.  The 12-year-old boy looked frightened and scared.  He had matured too fast for a boy of his age.  Life was a great teacher and learner; it makes you older and practical as it teaches you on.

 The mother looked at the entrance of the newly built villa.  There were almost two new European top model cars she could see as she came in with her old beat up Japanese car she had driven all the way from Muscat to the Interior hometown.  She could see a lot of new shoes at the Majlis entrance, smaller sized shoes belonging surely to the younger men.  They must belong to the man’s sons from the elder wife.  The man was not that rich, but he had a large house and farm – and some shops too.

 As the boy entered the room, he could see his elder brothers from the elder mother looking at him and whimsically whispering to themselves.  They looked like poking fun and mirth at him.  One was whispering at the father’s ear.  The father shook his head and glared at the  boy as if he did not like what was being whispered to him.  The father smiled to the entering boy, he got up and urged the boy to come in.  Instead of this encouraging the boy, this action of the man seemed to scare and daunt him all the more!  But move to the father he did.  He kissed his father’s hand in greetings.  He also kissed his father’s head in finality.

 The father made a signal to the boy sitting near him.  Move a bit and let your younger brother sit here.  The boy moved reluctantly, he did not want to move from the favourite position and to let especially the new son in the family take his place.  But he had to abide to his father’s wish and he did not want to be blamed as the one who had started and had made a scene.  After all, this was Eid day – and a day for happiness, festivities and celebrating occasion.

So tell me – the father asked.  Did you come alone?  Who came with you?  Did you come with your mother?  Is she waiting outside – the man was answering his own questions.  A tray of sweets and halwa was brought in front of the boy.  He wanted to scream – but I have not had yet breakfast father!  How do you expect me to eat halwa before having breakfast?  He kept it all in – he too did not want to create a scene.  Besides, perhaps this was the custom in the interior, and not in Muscat.

 He did not want the rest of hem to jest and mock him and his mother again – especially the mother just because her Arabic was not good having been born in Zanzibar.  I am going to show them the boy had made an early promise to himself.  I will speak very good Arabic and impress my father too.  At least I speak very good English and some French too – compared to my elder brothers and sisters from my elder mother.  When he used to say this to his mother, he used to make her cry uncontrollably and profusely – he still did not know why.  All he wanted was to assure her, and hold her head high and let no one – even if it was the family, she got married to – humble her and bring her down and depress her again.

 The father felt what the boy was feeling.  So smiling all he could, he whispered to the boy.  Did you have breakfast?  The son nodded negatively.  The man bellowed out – What is this? Bring breakfast for my son.  No sweets and halwa till later on!  The other boys looked at themselves in bewilderment at the stress of the word my son. Are we not his sons too – they asked themselves?

 The visiting boy started to feel now comfortable with his father.  He remembered what his father had told him – I want you to adhere and respect me – not to be scared and be afraid of me.  I want you to treat me as a friend, you can talk to and tell me if there is anything that scares and worries you.  OK – do we have an understanding and agreement here Son?  Promise me – will you?.  You must let no one make you scared, afraid or feel small.  Remember you are the son of who?  OK, son?  Let no one ask or use you to ask favours from me.  They will try to befriend you for their own selfish reasons and interests. But remember you are my son always!

 The boy wants to remind the father of the promise to him by the old man.  But he looked around him.  All his brothers and cousins were well dressed in their new dishdashas and msaars (turbans).  He remembered  seeing all those new shoes outside.  His mother was dressing him in that old dishdasha.  It was the newest of the old lot.  He told his mother – Mother do not cry.  One day I will grow up and find a good job.  I will look after you mother – I promise.  Instead of assuring the mother, this made her cry all the more.

 And I will show daddy for ignoring and forgetting about us.  I will show him, Mother.  I will work hard, save and have lots of money.  I promise you. But I will never forget or forgive what dad had done and not remembered us – even on this Eid day.  Mother, I promise. He did not give you money to buy any new clothes – even for Eid!

 No, no the mother persisted.  Sometimes I too do not understand your father.  He is a very good man.  After all, he is my first cousin too.  Our great grandfather is the same man from  Manah in Nizwa region.  You must not blame your father.  He is a very good, kind gentle man – but he listens to the wrong people who advise him wrongly.  That is his problem.  Otherwise, there is or there should be no problems between us – I assure you son.

 The breakfast had brought him back his spirits and courage.  So he asked the father, father tell me.  You know  my mother only works in the oil company as a clerk.  She has also to pay rent, put food on the table and do so many things.  You know father, no?  Then how come – the boy had finally the courage to ask – you did not give us any money for Eid – but you did for my elder brothers and sisters?  Don’t we also deserve your care and attention – me, my younger sister and my mother?

 You see dad, the boy finally let it out – my mother could not even afford to buy me a new dishdasha.  She does not have the money to do so.  But I told your mother to buy you a new dishdasha, the father insisted – I told her.  I am surprised that she did not.  After all, she can afford it – she is working in a good paying job in that oil old company.  I have to look after your other brothers and sisters – their mother is not working like your mother.

 The boy looked again at the father.  The urge to get out and make a scene was getting stronger by the minute.  He wanted to shout out – Do you know how much money my Mother earns? I will take my mother from here and you will not see us again.  He then remembered and reconciled to himself – he was still 12 and he could not drive back to Muscat.  Besides, even if he had urged and persuaded his mother she will not listen to him.  That is how she had ended up as the doormat to his father.  And his father knew too – and there is nothing he could do about it.  At least for now for sure.

 As if reading his mind, the father was giving a queer strange look at the son.  He the son said nothing more to the father.  The father said nothing to the boy.  It seemed a hidden communication and telepathy had set in.  Not to say anything more to each other. His elder brother from the elder Mother touched his old dishdasha – teased him – your Mother saving again for her folks in Africa? Again what happened last time. Till the next time  that is – till next Eid again!. He looked forward for the day to end, so he could return with his Mother to Muscat.

 By:-

 If you like this story, you can find more in my book Short Takes – Between Us Only! – details in www.majidbooks.com all with local (Omani / Arab) flavour!

Are You Our Mother? A Short Family Story!

 

Are You Our Mother?

A Short Family Story!

 March 2nd, 2008

The door bell rang continuously and incessantly.  Trust these things to happen always to you in more than one of the ten cases, as soon as you enter the shower or bath the bell would ring!  Those are one of the unexplainable things in life, it never rings before you get into the bath nor soon after you have finished!

 The person who was ringing the bell must be desperate, or he or she just wanted to make a nuisance of oneself.  Some have this bad nasty habit – they will keep the bell pressed till the door is opened or they will let the phone ring on and on till someone answers it.  It is okay if it is at home, but at the office too?

Tried to ignore it or let it ring, so what! Ring! Ring!  She had to get out of the shower and open the door.  She was about to give the person outside ‘a piece of her mind’ when she saw who was ringing the bell made her winch with shame and guild.  The girl was hardly twelve, but she looked much older.   Life’s experiences and troubles makes one mature fast – and get older quicker too in the process.  She was clutching the hand of what looked like her younger brother – hardly five or six himself.

The girl was very polite.  I am sorry to take you out of your bath – but we are new here.  We come from the village from Interior.  We are afraid we may have got lost.  Our mother is waiting in the car with our uncle some blocks from here – and we had to cross the street to come here.  I am sorry – the girl aplogised again.  Looked sad and distraught with her sad big innocent almost crying eyes.  All the time she was holding tight the hand of his brother – as if he would run away and play truant – and put her in great trouble with her mother.

So what can I do for you?  – the wet dripping woman in her white towel asked.  I am sorry – the girl said again – she was trying her best to be understood in her broken poor English.  Do you speak Arabic – the girl finally implored the woman.  The woman looked young – she must be in her early thirties.  Looked like the age of her eldest sister or like her young aunty.  No, our mother told us not to get into the house.  Can you get our father for us?  No, I do not speak Arabic – I come from a non-Arabic speaking country.  Sorry! But I understand you – go ahead.

Your father? the woman quizzed, puzzled and confused.  Your father?  She repeated herself the question.  Are you sure you came to the right house, my dears?   With the word dears, the girl started to cry!   The young brother consoled and comforted.  Do not cry sister, lets be brave and courageous, sis!  I do not understand – the woman implored – what is this all about, and why are you poor girl crying?   Tell me dear – why are you crying?  What is wrong?

Are you my new mother, the girl finally had the courage to ask.  Are you my new mother?  Is our father here?   And who is your father, the woman asked the girl.  My father is *Rashid Al Rashdi (RAR) – he is our father!  We want to see our father – we want to talk to him and ask him some questions.   We want him to answer us!

Your father is RAR?   How is that possible?  He told me he did not have any young children.  Are you sure RAR is your father?  You are not trying to hoodwink me with your scam?   The girl cried again – this time loudly and profusely.  There, there, the woman comforted her – please, please do not cry!  You are also making me cry, see?   And the woman was crying with the girl together.  She could not control herself – the shock, the anguish and he pain – it was too much.  She did not want to hurt anyone –especially these poor children at her door.

Our father – the boy was now speaking – finally.  He let us at home in the village.  He does not come home in the weekend anymore, he spends all his time in the town now with you.  Are you our new mother?   Yes – the woman said – but I did not know your father had young children.   He told me that all his chidren were grown up and had left the cuckoo’s nest.  Our father does not look afte us anymoe – he does not like us anymore.  Do we have another small baby brother or sister?   You know mother – the boy said – we have not even food in the house.  Our mother is sick, and cannot work.  Only our aunties and uncles are looking after us – but our mother is proud, she wants dad to be responsible for us.  Not others!

No, I have no baby – the woman responded.  And I do not think I ever will with him anyway – with the way he has treated you.  No way!  I am returning home – this man tells too many lies.  I am sorry – please forgive me.  No, no – it is not your fault – both the children said together.  It is not your fault.  It is our father who is at wrong – not you.  We do not mind him marrying you – but why has he forgotten us completely?  Why?  Did we do anything wrong?

What is this?  – the man said as he entered the house – who brought you here?  The children were drinking hot milk with some cakes and biscuits.  They looked hungry – as if they have not ……….for quite some time.  Hello dear – the man said to the wife – do not dear me, the woman was shouting and screaming at the top of her voice – you always tell lies and fibs RAR.   You are never to be trusted!   You always let down peoples!   I want nothing more to do with you!  Please get me my ticket – I am going home!   I want my divorce – the woman screamed and threw things around at the place and at the direction of the man.  You always have lied to me – the woman screamed again at the top of her voice.

See what you have done – the father reprimanded the children.  Your mother is at the bottom of this again!  She never wants me to be happy, I deserve some happiness in my life, at least now.  The children were cowering – their own mother never did these things to their father.  And they had never seen their father ever so angry before!   He looked sad – tired and worn out.  This cannot be the loving father they knew before.

The bell rang again incessantly.  Nobody bothered.  The boy got some courage and got up to open the door, with all the going-on around the place.  It as his mother and uncle at the door!!  They were tired waiting outside.

By:

Majid Al-Suleimany

If you like this story, you can find more in my book Short Takes – Between Us Only! – details in www.majidbooks.com all with local (Omani / Arab) flavour!

 

Respect and Esteem Your Parents!

 Please Double Click To Open

http://majidfeel.weebly.com/respect-and-esteem-your-parents.html

I think it is Turkish!

In Arabic Translation …

In English –

Respect and Esteem Your Parents!

In short the son agitated on the father asking what is that? A sparrow (bird)! The old man asking the same question all over again!

The Father goes inside the house and brings out a diary to the angry irritated son showing how many times the son had asked the same questions as a child – but the father did not get angry! Actually the son had asked 21 times the same question!

The son apologises and hugs the father – followed by verses in The Quraan saying how we should behave to our parents – like giving them nice comforting words – and not to scream and shout at them – even if we were angry!

A Universal Message..

Enjoy … and remember the message!

Actually no language is needed to explain it… The body signs say it all!

And the bottom line we are all human beings from the same Adam and Eve… and Islam is the ONLY RELIGION after Christianity that believes in all The Prophets mentioned in The Gospel – and about Mother Miriam and The Miracle Birth … and The Return of of Jesus Christ – The Messiah and The Great Prophet Issa for us…

You see we are all together in this … and each basket has bad apples (fish)!!

I do not know why there is now so much fear, hatreds, animosities and anger…

The killing of an innocent person is like killing a whole Nation in Islam.. Peace! Asalaam Aleikum! Shalom!

Visit also my other such topics sites …

www.majidfeel.weebly.com

www.majidtouch.wordpress.com

The Grandchildren!

 The Oman Daily Observer of Sunday April 18, 2010. 

Between Us Only!

The Grandchildren!

When I was studying in Primary School in this Community run school (Indian) in Tanzania, in the beginning there were these Religious Classes that were not compulsory for those from the other faiths and sects – but I used to attend and used to ask a lot of questions – and I was politely and tactfully ‘told’ that you did not have to attend (and leave us alone in peace and harmony – unsaid!).

But I always remember this anecdote – Diplomacy is telling someone to go to Hell- and he is looking forward for the trip! The truth was I had fallen ‘head over heels’ for one of the girls there in that class – and in my desire to ‘impress and show myself off’ – till my poor late dad heard about it – and I had to decide then to be either a ‘dead hero’ or ‘still living son!’

Anyway, seriously though – the reason why I bring this up today is because in one of the lessons, the so-called Priest was lecturing why their spiritual leader was passing over the ‘throne’ to the grandson – instead of the son. Events proved later that the father had died in a tragic road accident. From that day it surprised me why a generation had lapsed from a grandfather to a grandson – and not the son in between! If you ask me now I will reply – I now do understand.

Grandchildren are the greatest gift from our Lord – and one has to be eternal grateful and appreciative to see them born healthy, fit and in good spirits! I can tell you that they make me continue to feel living is still worth it – and to be healthy and in good state in life and mind frame – and makes you forget all the rest of life’s upsets, disappointments, giveth, frustrations, let downs and betrayals. I do not want anyone to ‘start playing the fiddle for me anymore’ as in my previous articles – but I leave it at that only – as much as has been said already in this same column and in my books too! One must move on and forward in life!

A friend of mine who cannot fast because of his serious health condition was telling me this funny anecdote of his grandson telling everyone who came in the house and within earshot that ‘grandfather was not fasting – and he should feel ashamed of himself after lecturing us just at this young stage to ‘start practise fasting!  The pun started losing its laughter and touch when he started now telling others in the supermarkets and other places too!

My granddaughter (first one Aliyazah) was asking me why she has always got to be the one who sits in the middle in all photo shots, when the other two girls (Mariah and Ritaal) are kept on her sides? So I tell her – because you are the bigger one and to catch them if any would fall. She is the same girl that retorted to me that the Quraan Class Recitations are for school only – and not to be recited in the home! This after I asked her to recite one verse for me! The same girl who will sing readily for you English children songs like Jack and Jill, or Twinkle – Twinkle Little Star!

Concerning myself and my own grandparents, I never met those from my Father’s side because my grandmother in Hail Ghaaf Quriyaat got married to someone else after my grandfather who had gone from there to Tanzania died before even I was born! But on my Mother side and typical of his Omani Arab Interior lot then (peace be upon him) the daughter’s children took lower priority because of the tribal surname aspect – though my parents were cousins and my late father was his nephew too. But my maternal grandmother liked me a lot – and I was her special one as also being the First Born!

This article is dedicated to my grandchildren – especially Ritaal whose her One Year Old Birthday is Today!

Here we are all four together! Ritaal is the one who is the two teethed one! (on my right)

 By: –

 Majid Said Nasser Al Suleimany.

 My E-Mails Contacts

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www.betweenusonly.wordpress.com

 

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The Most Beautiful Road Safety Film!

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Open This Link … please!