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Mighty Atoms For Tiny Tots
Author Index
Invocation Introduction
Monday's Lesson Tuesday's Lesson
Wednesday's Lesson Thursday's Lessson
Friday's Lesson Saturday's Lesson
Sunday's Lesson
Major Sections
Temples Of India
Lord Siva To Be Adored The Devalayas Of Karnataka
Palani Dhandhayudhapani The Kovils Of Kerala
The Temples of North-West India Temples For The Triple Sects
Mata Kanakadurga of Vijayawada The Legend Of Mata Kanyaka Parameswari
The Temples Of North-East India Mantralya Mahakshetra
The Aalayas of Andhra Pradesh The Mandirs Of Maharastra
Mighty Atoms For Tiny Tots Lord Siva Of Sri Kalahasthi
Bhagawan Vithoba Of Pandharpur Bizarre Beliefs And Odd Traditions
Asoka Priyadarsin The Mother Of Melmaruvathur And Her Miracles
Vishnu Mayam Jagat Sarvam Sakti Mayam
The Temples Of Tamilnadu Hindu Ethos In Capsules - Vol I

Hindu Ethos In Capsules - Vol II

Hullo Tirupathi !
Uthuthshta Govinda Cum Jo Jo Mukunda The Miracles Of Gods For The Debacles Of Humans
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One more! Haven't you ever read that sweet, but significant poem, " The Mountain and the Squirrel" by the American Philosopher-poet Emerson, that brings out a similar truth. Does it not hail the greatness of littleness? It is indeed a marvelous piece of the rarest ripe wisdom.

The story goes that once a little young and energetic squirrel, seer, moving lustily hither and thither, squeaking and chipping with such ease and grace, roused jealously in a mountain. An unusual occurrence indeed! But it did excite in the mountain. Hence the outburst of anger.

The mountain conscious of its enormous size and infinite strength started accusing the bun, "you little prig! What an earth do you gain by moving so fast and singing so blithe?" The squirrel was startled. It stopped its sprightly dance and sat down on its hind legs resting the entire mass of its body on its beautiful stripped tail. Raising its little pointing finger, it demanded explanation for such baseless charge and causeless jealousy. The vain mountain reiterated its charge and affirmed, "Are you not moving fast to exhibit your insignificant spirits? You are too proud of your nimble body and squeaking voice". The bun flew into ungovernable rage. Evidently its honour was hit. It burst out, "Mr. Mountain, I deny not the fact that you carry forests on your back, offer footstool for the beautiful blue clouds, give birth to rivulets and lastly occupy millions of acres of the mother earth. They are yours. None can gainsay. Be doubly sure, you can not dance, or sing as I do. You lack the power of movement. You are denied the capacity to crack even the smallest nut. Therefore, I dare say, You are only a dull, dead, dreadening mass of damnable, hard, black, dirty rock unfit to render any piece of service to any one. I make bold to say, your hugeness is a colossal waste. Your existence is disgracefully useless. Your shape is ugly and hideous. Your inertia is abominable.


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