Miffed's Scribblings

Whenever I remember Atal ji the word 'Statesman' follows up with his name. I don't think Atal ji needs an introduction of any kind. I can only say he was a man synonymous with statesmanship, good governance, a wordsmith, and a heart of gold. Who can forget he was the first Prime Minister from our nation who delivered his speech in Hindi at the UN. A great poet, speaker, and one of the greatest Prime Ministers of India. He was a man who was loved by everyone. A visionary statesman, an orator par excellence, and the most rational politician across the political spectrum. His actions always spoke louder than his words. Within weeks of assuming office in 1998, Atal Bihari Vajpayee conducted Shakti series of nuclear tests at Pokhran & declared India as a Nuclear weapon state. Nothing empowered the Indians more since then. A visionary leader who was the first non-Congress PM to serve a full term. Atal Bihari Vajpayee was jailed at age 18 for participating in QUIT INDIA...

STILL STRONG TO FALL FOR YOU OVER & OVER AGAIN . A surge of sadness from within. can't stop tears from rushing in... On a quiet night when I am alone... I think of you until the break of dawn... Then I start to feel this pain inside... and no matter what I can't hide... I always try, but I always fail... Can't help myself, my heart is frail... I'll reach for your hand in the cold of winter..! I'll reach for your hand in the heat of summer..! if you hide.. i'll seek for you if you're lost.. i'll search for you and when you leave wait for you.._   I know your life can go on without me you can be happy without me you can survive without me But if you Turn Me Away.... I'll still choose to stay with you... and be your sweetest Stranger forever..!!   I want to scream I want to shout I want to have faith and never doubt I want to bend I want to break I want to sleep and never wake to break down...

My sister and I spent the whole evening searching for her chocolate. She still believes that our fridge has a ghost in it. Only my stomach knows the truth...

Warming Her Pearls BY CAROL ANN DUFFY Next to my own skin, her pearls. My mistress bids me wear them, warm them, until evening when I'll brush her hair. At six, I place them round her cool, white throat. All day I think of her, resting in the Yellow Room, contemplating silk or taffeta, which gown tonight? She fans herself whilst I work willingly, my slow heat entering each pearl. Slack on my neck, her rope. She's beautiful. I dream about her in my attic bed; picture her dancing with tall men, puzzled by my faint, persistent scent beneath her French perfume, her milky stones. I dust her shoulders with a rabbit's foot, watch the soft blush seep through her skin like an indolent sigh. In her looking-glass my red lips part as though I want to speak. Full moon. Her carriage brings her home. I see her every movement in my head.... Undressing, taking off her jewels, her slim hand reaching for the case, slipping naked into bed, the way s...

What was the Oxford Movement? : A Short Critical Analysis The term ‘Oxford Movement’ is often used to describe the whole of what might be called the Catholic revival in the Church of England. More properly it refers to the activities and ideas of an initially small group of people in the University of Oxford who argued against the increasing secularisation of the Church of England and sought to recall it to its heritage of apostolic order, and to the catholic doctrines of the early church fathers. The success of this theological task was so great, one might argue, that it is now difficult to distinguish between those who were given the name Tractarians (see below) and the wider Anglo-Catholic wing of the church which built on and developed their ideas. Origins In the early 1830s, at Oriel College in Oxford, a growing number of young and extremely able Fellows, informally grouped around the slightly older John Keble, were increasingly outspoken about the needs and shortcomings o...

From a forced smile to hours of uncontrolled laughter, from pretending to be okay to let out a fountain of warm tears, I realised that the joy of having a real conversation laden with emotions can never be expressed by a set of emoticons. ~My Scribbled Stories