The blind man and the advertising story

An old blind man was sitting on a busy street corner in the rush-hour begging for money. On a cardboard sign, next to an empty tin cup, he had written: 'Blind - Please help'.

No-one was giving him any money.

A young advertising writer walked past and saw the blind man with his sign and empty cup, and also saw the many people passing by completely unmoved, let alone stopping to give money.

The advertising writer took a thick marker-pen from her pocket, turned the cardboard sheet back-to-front, and re-wrote the sign, then went on her way.

Immediately, people began putting money into the tin cup.

After a while, when the cup was overflowing, the blind man asked a stranger to tell him what the sign now said.

"It says," said the stranger, " 'It's a beautiful day. You can see it. I cannot.' "

The Little Match Girl

Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark,
and evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and
darkness there went along the street a poor little girl,
bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had
slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They
were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn;
so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she
scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that
rolled by dreadfully fast.

One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid
hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it
would do capitally for a cradle when he some day or other
should have children himself. So the little maiden walked on
with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from
cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and
she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought
anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given her
a single farthing.

She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very
picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!

The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in
beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she
never once now thought. From all the windows the candles
were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast goose, for
you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought.

In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced
more than the other, she seated herself down and cowered
together. Her little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she
grew colder and colder, and to go home she did not venture,
for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a
farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get
blows, and at home it was cold too, for above her she had
only the roof, through which the wind whistled, even though
the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.

Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match
might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a
single one out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and
warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!" how it
blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle,
as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It
seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting
before a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass
ornament at top. The fire burned with such blessed influence;
it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched
out her feet to warm them too; but--the small flame went out,
the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out
match in her hand.

She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and
where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became
transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room.
On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it was
a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming
famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what
was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down
from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in
its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl; when--the match
went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left
behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting
under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger,
and more decorated than the one which she had seen through
the glass door in the rich merchant's house.

Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and
gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-
windows, looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched
out her hands towards them when--the match went out. The
lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw
them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long
trail of fire.

"Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her old
grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who
was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul
ascends to God.

She drew another match against the wall: it was again light,
and in the lustre there stood the old grandmother, so bright
and radiant, so mild, and with such an expression of love.

"Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with you!
You go away when the match burns out; you vanish like the
warm stove, like the delicious roast goose, and like the
magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the whole
bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to
be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And the
matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at
noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so
beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm,
and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high,
and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--
they were with God.

But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl,
with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against
the wall--frozen to death on the last evening of the old year.
Stiff and stark sat the child there with her matches, of which
one bundle had been burnt. "She wanted to warm herself,"
people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what
beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the
splendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on
the joys of a new year.

Moral:

Spare a thought for the needy and the less fortunate.

The Milkmaid and her Pail

Patty the Milkmaid was going to market carrying her milk in a
Pail on her head. As she went along she began calculating what
she would do with the money she would get for the milk. "I'll
buy some fowls from Farmer Brown," said she, "and they will
lay eggs each morning, which I will sell to the parson's wife.
With the money that I get from the sale of these eggs I'll buy
myself a new dimity frock and a chip hat; and when I go to
market, won't all the young men come up and speak to me!
Polly Shaw will be that jealous; but I don't care. I shall just
look at her and toss my head like this. As she spoke she tossed
her head back, the Pail fell off it, and all the milk was spilt. So
she had to go home and tell her mother what had occurred.

"Ah, my child," said the mother,

"Do not count your chickens before they are hatched."

Moral:

Do not count your chickens before they are hatched.

Dreams do not lead to reality.

Do not be overconfident and assume success before you
know the outcome.

The Donkey Carrying Salt

A Merchant, driving his Donkey homeward from the seashore
with a heavy load of salt, came to a river crossed by a shallow
ford. They had crossed this river many times before without
accident, but this time the Donkey slipped and fell when halfway
over. And when the Merchant at last got him to his feet, much
of the salt had melted away. Delighted to find how much lighter
his burden had become, the Donkey finished the journey very
happily.

Next day the Merchant went for another load of salt. On the way
home the Donkey, remembering what had happened at the ford,
purposely let himself fall into the water, and again got rid of
most of his burden.

The angry Merchant immediately turned about and drove the
Donkey back to the seashore, where he loaded him with two great
baskets of sponges. At the ford the Donkey again tumbled over;
but when he had scrambled to his feet, it was a very disconsolate
Donkey that dragged himself homeward under a load ten times
heavier than before.

Moral:

The same measures will not suit all circumstances.
Counter old tricks with new ones.

Who is the Boss.......

The Man, the Horse, the Ox, and the Dog

One winter's day, during a severe storm, a Horse, an Ox, and a
Dog came and begged for shelter in the house of a Man. He
readily admitted them, and, as they were cold and wet, he lit a
fire for their comfort, and he put oats before the Horse, and hay
before the Ox, while he fed the Dog with the remains of his own
dinner.

When the storm abated, and they were about to depart, they
determined to show their gratitude in the following way. They
divided the life of Man among them, and each endowed one
part of it with the qualities which were peculiarly his own.

The Horse took youth, and hence young men are impetuous,
headstrong, and obstinate in maintaining his own opinion.

The Ox took middle age, and accordingly man in his middle age
is fond of work, devoted to labor, and resolute to amass wealth
and to husband his resources.

The Dog took old age, which is the reason why old men are so
often peevish and ill-tempered, and, like dogs, attached chiefly
to those who look to their comfort, while they are disposed to
snap at those who are unfamiliar or distasteful to them.

Moral:

Man's life is predestined.
Man by nature loves to work.

The Wolf and the Shepherd

A Wolf had been prowling around a flock of Sheep for a long time,
and the Shepherd watched very anxiously to prevent him from
carrying off a Lamb. But the Wolf did not try to do any harm.
Instead he seemed to be helping the Shepherd take care of the
Sheep. At last the Shepherd got so used to seeing the Wolf about
that he forgot how wicked he could be.

One day he even went so far as to leave his flock in the Wolf's care
while he went on an errand. But when he came back and saw how
many of the flock had been killed and carried off, he knew how
foolish to trust a Wolf as he exclaimed. “I have been rightly
served; why did I trust my sheep to a Wolf?”

Moral:

Delegate your task wisely, and only to people you trust.

Telecom circles of India

Autograph

Autographs of Indian Legends A P J AbdulKalam Abul Kalam Azad Maulana Amartya Sen, Dr. Ambedkar B. R., Dr. Amithab Bachchan Asha Bhosle Baba Amte Bala Gangadhar Tilak Bipin Chandra Pal Bismillah Khan Ustad C.K. Nayudu Chandu Borde Chiranjeevi Chittaranjan Das Dev Anand Gopal Krishna Gokhle Har Gobind Khorana Hariprasad Chaurasia Pandit Indira Gandhi J.R.D. Tata Jagjivan Ram Jawaharlal Nehru Jayprakash Narayan Kapil Dev Khan Abdul Gafar Khan Koneru Humpy Lal Bahadur Shastri Lala Amarnath Lata Mangeshkar M.F. Husain Mahatma Gandhi Mangalampalli Balamuralikrishna Manmohan Singh, Dr. Maulana Abul Kalam Azad Morarji Desai Mother Teresa P. Susheela Sarvepalli Radhakrishna Rahul Bajaj Raj Kapoor Rajendra Prasad, Dr. Rajiv Gandhi Raman C.V. Ratan Tata Ravi Shankar Pandit Ravindranath Tagore S.P. Balasubrahmanyam Sachin Tendulkar Sarath chandra bose Sardar vallabhai patel Sarojini naidu Satyajit Ray Subbulakshmi M.S. Subhash Chandra Bose Sunil Gavaskar Sunita Williams Tanguturi Prakasam panthulu Vajpayee Atal Bihari Vikram Sarabhai, Dr. ( Gujarat ) Vinoba Bhave Viswanathan Anand Vivekananda Zakir Husain, Dr.