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Krishnan

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White Grandma Stories I still love to hear those stories narrated by my grandmother. From the starting punch line of "Once upon a time...." to the exciting finishing statement, and finally, after that, they lived happily." I used to get engrossed in every nuance of her narration. I used to persuade her to narrate the Cinderella-type story many times. The way she used to begin was perfect, drawing me into her story. "Once upon a time, there used to be a pretty girl who often rested her heart, mind, and soul every evening on the steps of the porch of her house after doing all household chores dumped on her by her arrogant stepmother and sisters. She knew no prince would come out of nowhere and hold her hand before taking her away. It happens only in dreams. Still, she waits for someone who wouldn't come. She knows that she is bound to continue as a puppet here. But what if, one day, her waiting pays off?" Then my grandmother sighed deeply and expressed her wish as she looked at me: "You know, Krishna, I hope that, one day, the prince from her dream will arrive and rescue her from this hell. But none of us can predict the future." I then raised my head from her lap and looking at her eyes, I put forward my curiosity, "Will the prince arrive, Grandma?" "Even the gods cannot resist the glowing beauty that radiates from her, along with her pure heart—let alone a prince! Let's see." She remarked before continuing with her story! ©Krishnan #Grandma #grandmother #storytelling #Childhood #childhood_memories

White Grandma Stories I still love to hear those stories narrated by my grandmother. From the starting punch line of "Once upon a time...." to the exciting finishing statement, and finally, after that, they lived happily." I used to get engrossed in every nuance of her narration. I used to persuade her to narrate the Cinderella-type story many times. The way she used to begin was perfect, drawing me into her story. "Once upon a time, there used to be a pretty girl who often rested her heart, mind, and soul every evening on the steps of the porch of her house after doing all household chores dumped on her by her arrogant stepmother and sisters. She knew no prince would come out of nowhere and hold her hand before taking her away. It happens only in dreams. Still, she waits for someone who wouldn't come. She knows that she is bound to continue as a puppet here. But what if, one day, her waiting pays off?" Then my grandmother sighed deeply and expressed her wish as she looked at me: "You know, Krishna, I hope that, one day, the prince from her dream will arrive and rescue her from this hell. But none of us can predict the future." I then raised my head from her lap and looking at her eyes, I put forward my curiosity, "Will the prince arrive, Grandma?" "Even the gods cannot resist the glowing beauty that radiates from her, along with her pure heart—let alone a prince! Let's see." She remarked before continuing with her story! ©Krishnan #Grandma #grandmother #storytelling #Childhood #childhood_memories

md wazid Ali

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White duniya me jina hai to aise jio jo apne bap ko lage ki me ne ek ser pala hai ©md wazid Ali #kargil_vijay_diwas ok #yes

White duniya me jina hai to aise jio jo apne bap ko lage ki me ne ek ser pala hai ©md wazid Ali #kargil_vijay_diwas ok #yes

Anagha Ukaskar

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White My grandma used to say "Clothes tell story, A tale of what we have always been. They hold a beginning and the end And everything that's in between" Her cotton, soft Sarees are now keepsakes, They hold the happy rays of the sun, The times when she danced in beams, Those good old days of fun. The rough white patches on its edges Are badges of what she has earned, The freckles and marks of lifetime, Of hands that left no stone unturned. ©Anagha Ukaskar #love_shayari #naani #Grandma #grandmother #Aaji #poem

White My grandma used to say "Clothes tell story, A tale of what we have always been. They hold a beginning and the end And everything that's in between" Her cotton, soft Sarees are now keepsakes, They hold the happy rays of the sun, The times when she danced in beams, Those good old days of fun. The rough white patches on its edges Are badges of what she has earned, The freckles and marks of lifetime, Of hands that left no stone unturned. ©Anagha Ukaskar #love_shayari #naani #Grandma #grandmother #Aaji #poem