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101 Stories for You and Me

101 Stories for You and Me

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101 Stories for You and Me

153 páginas
1 hora
16 mar 2020


101 Stories that make up this most absorbing, educative and uplifting book have been lovingly chosen from the perennial treasure of Dada J.P. Vaswani’s witty anecdotes and stories. Each story is a gem-containing a precious pearl of strength and wisdom.

Each story can fill you with faith, patience, fortitude and the courage to face the challenges of life in the right spirit.

You can’t stop reading once you start, for you feel you have taken a breath of fresh air, or had a stimulating drink.

Just try and see!

16 mar 2020

Sobre el autor

Dada J. P. Vaswani is the author of over 200 self-help and inspirational titles, including the bestselling Daily Appointment with God and Why Do Good People Suffer? One of contemporary India’s leading nonsectarian spiritual leaders, his books are filled with enlightening anecdotes from world traditions and practical wisdom that helps many people to start living confident, fulfilling, and connected lives. Dada, as he is known to his admirers and followers, has held audiences with prominent world leaders, including the Dalai Lama, Mother Teresa, and Pope John Paul II. As the spiritual head of the Sadhu Vaswani Mission, he has been a tireless advocate for animal rights and non-violence for the past half century. Visit him online at www.sadhuvaswani.org. One of India’s foremost spiritual leaders, J. P. Vaswani is the author of more than two hundred inspirational and self-help books, most of them bestsellers. A scientist-turned-philosopher, he is widely admired all over the world for his message of practical optimism.

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101 Stories for You and Me - J.P. Vaswani




IT was the sacred Janmashtami Day— the Birthday of Lord Sri Krishna. A poor woman, whose husband had been paralysed, had promised her three little starving children a Janmashtami feast. She was a devotee of the Lord. She felt sure the Lord would send her enough and more to provide her children the promised feast. She entered a grocery store and asked for enough food for a feast for her children. When the owner asked how much she could afford, she answered, My husband has been sick for many months. Truthfully, I have nothing to offer but a little prayer.

The man, an unbeliever, said sarcastically, Write your prayer on a piece of paper and you can have its weight in groceries.

Without hesitation, the woman took out of her poc ket a folded note and handed it to him. Here is my little prayer. I wrote it down during the night while I was watching over my ailing husband, she said. On the small piece of paper were written the words, Thou art my Refuge, Lord! Thou wilt provide all the things I need for tomorrow’s feast: and more so that I can share it with other poor children on the sacred day of Thy birth!

The man read those words, laughed and put the piece of paper on one side of his scales. Now, let us see how much food this is worth, he said.

To his deep astonishment and dismay, he found that nothing happened when he put a packet of flour on the other side. He was greatly upset when he added other things and still the scales would not move. Finally, he said to the poor woman, I do not understand what is happening today. But I will be true to my promise. Take from the shop whatever you need, for it appears that your little slip of paper weighs more than all the things my shop holds.

The woman took only the things she needed for the feast. With tear-touched eyes, she thanked the grocer and silently sang the praise of the Lord who provides for every need of His devotees.

The grocer later discovered that the scales were out of order. But why at that very time? he asked himself, again and again. And why had the woman written out the prayer before she came to his shop? His heart was converted and he, too, became a bhakta of Lord.



Mullah Nasruddin was out in the street searching for something.

What are you looking for? they asked him.

I have lost my keys, he answered.

Where did you lose them? he was asked.

And he said, I lost them in the house!

Then how is it that you are looking for them here?

And the Mullah said, Because in the house it is dark, out here it is so bright!

We have looked for ourselves out here, but will not be able to find ourselves until we look within, turn inside where it is dark.



Martin Luther, the founder of the Protestant Church, had to face many trials and tribulations. One day, his wife found him in a dark mood of depression. She was an intelligent woman who believed in the Providence of God. Finding her husband in deep despair, she wore black clothes and stood before him.

Why these black clothes? asked Martin Luther.

The wife quietly answered, Don’t you know He is dead?

Who is dead?


How can you say that? admonished the Protestant leader. How can God die?

The wife answered, If God is not dead, what reason do you have to be so sad and downcast?

Martin Luther immediately realised his mistake, put a smile on his face and said, Yes, to the devil belongs to be sad!



The sun had just gone down to its rest. The evening star appeared to say goodbye to the departing day. The atmosphere was charged with a farewell feeling.

Sadhu Vaswani took his usual evening walk. Two of us were with him. And to us he spoke of the fair country beyond the pathways of planets and stars, the Homeland of the soul, leaving which we do but wander here as exiles.

Just then was heard the voice of a child from a distance, Dadaji! Bless me!

Sadhu Vaswani looked into the clear, bright eyes of the little one and asked, Tell me, my child! Where is your home?

Quick came the answer, Dadaji! My home is in Nana Peth. Will you come with me and bless my Mummy who is unwell?

Not today, my child! Sadhu Vaswani answered. Some other day, perhaps, I may visit your place. But tell me, where was your home before you came to Nana Peth?

And the little one said, Before we came to Nana Peth, our home was in Shivaji Nagar."

And before that?

Before that, Dada, we stayed at Baroda.

And where were you before that, my child?

That was before the ‘migration’ took place, Dadaji! In those good old days, our home was in Hyderabad Sind. I was born there.

And where was your home before you were born at Hyderabad Sind? Sadhu Vaswani persisted.

Puzzled, the little one said, I do not know, Dadaji! I shall have to ask my Mummy.

Sadhu Vaswani smiled. We, who were with him, also smiled. And Sadhu Vaswani said, "Our schools teach many things but not the one thing essential. The other day, the Headmaster of the St. Mira’s school asked me to give him a motto for the school and I suggested the following:

O Wanderer!

The Homeland seeketh thee!

"As the children repeat this motto and meditate on it, memories will wake up in their pure, innocent hearts— each memory a procession of distant days. And, whistling through the processions, will come to them the words, Thou art the atman! Deathless art Thou, and in the Eternal is Thy Homeland!"



Raja Janak lived in a palace but regarded nothing as his own. He was a man of true renunciation. To him came, one day, a sanyasi who outwardly had renounced the world and put on an ochre robe. Seeing the king surrounded by pomp and grandeur, the sanyasi thought to himself, How could this man, living as he does in the midst of luxury have attained to God?

Just then was heard a cry, The palace is on fire! Immediately, the sanyasi ran out to save his loin cloth which he had washed and hung on a rope to dry. When he returned, he was astonished to find Raja Janak sitting there unconcerned.

The sanyasi asked, O king, did you not hear that the palace was on fire? How is it, then that you sit here as though nothing has happened?

Raja Janak quietly answered, What is mine is with me: it cannot be burnt by fire.

Raja Janak was a man of true renunciation. True renunciation is detachment from (1) things (2) forms and (3) one’s own self. The great German mystic, Meister Eckhart, said, Whoso has three things is beloved of God. The first is riddance of goods, the second of friends, and the third is riddance of self.



Years ago, I happened to cross a village. I entered a dilapidated hut. An old, blind woman sat on the floor. She was an invalid and lived in the midst of abject poverty.

Finding her in that miserable state and with no one near her, I said to her, Mother, you must be feeling very lonely.

Not at all! she answered in a voice which still rings in my ears. The neighbours love me and do all that is necessary for me.

But, at night, mother, how do you live all alone with the storm shrieking and the rain pouring through the leaky roof? I asked in wonder.

Again she said, I do not feel lonely. My heart feels happy, alike in sunshine and rain. The good neighbours give me all I want: and my wants are so few.

There was something in her words which made me feel that this poor, blind woman was in possession of some hidden secret

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