A picture speaks a thousand words!

A homeless man sleeps in the arms of his dog on Queen St. W. in Toronto, on a freezing day in November, 2006. This photo was runner-up in the Feature category at Sun Media’s 2007 Dunlop Awards. VERONICA HENRI/TORONTO SUN.

A perfect panoptical photograph, this endearing epitome of friendship embraces life & love in its wake. This still frame effuses warmth.You can literally feel the quiver of the dog’s nostrils in the Canadian chill, the plight of the homeless man and the equanimity with which both have accepeted their predicaments. A picture indeed speaks a thousand words!

Leaving you with this magnum opus, I take my frisbee and my leave.

PS All rights for the above image are reserved by Veronica Henri & Toronto SUN.

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Maa: Lady of my life!

Greetings everyone!

Stumbled upon this incredible video on youtube, a stray dog gently rescuing  another stray canine from the middle of a highway in heavy traffic! The video is from the feed of  surveillance camera.

Hair raising, isn’t it?

Going by the calendar’s marquee, although I have always believed in the  immortality of the emotion rather than affixing a date to it; to me love should be celebrated year long and not only on V day. Similarly, the greatest of all relations mother permeates through the life and timelines.

An adage runs, ” God could not be everywhere, so he created mothers.“

It came as no surprise to me when British Council’s survey declared ‘mother’ as the most beautiful word in English language I don’t really know where she might be, for we canines don’t really have the luxury of being with our mothers for long. I had been taken away by a hillside farmer but later I was adopted by this kind woman who now resonates to the picture of mother to me.

The day also marks the 150th birth anniversary of one of the greatest literary figures, Nobel laureate Rabindra Nath Tagore.  Guess, this post of mine is all about connoting luminaries so here are the verses that immaculately captures my senses.

I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.

I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the
temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.

I cannot remember my mother
only  when from bedroom window
I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of my mother’s gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

Here’s to every mother in the world, I love you!

Woof Wordsworth!

There is a reason why Dog spelled backwards is God…