DT/24/032 Malshi Amodya

At the heart of the village,  Beneath an old bodhi tree  That has watched generation pass, Stands a place Where mind find rest The village temple At dawn, when birds greet the morning🦜 The soft ring of the bell Pulls every heart♥️ Into the same rhythm  This is not a place Where only books are opened, But where life itself is read Lesson of right and wrong, Patience, And compassion  Are taught without words It is here child learns To whisper "sadhu",🙏 And here an elder learns To pause And listen to their own heart. The village's problems It's joys, And it's tears The temple stands As a silent witness  To them all It is more than religion  It is culture  A university without walls, Teaching wisdom Trough simplicity  Trough the changes, Through the world moves fast, The village temple gently reminds us To remain human. So the village temple  Is not made of stone Or buildings alone It is the heart of the village, A volume that must be protected...

 That day  Was a full moon day. As I woke up in the morning  And tried to step out of my room, Just like every other day, Our 🐈 cat  Wrapped herself gently  Around My feet. I stroked her tiny head with love  And moved forward,  But she kept staring at my face - As if she was speaking   In a language I couldn't understand. She looked at the bead,  Then back at me.  She cried softly,  Again and again.  In that moment,  I felt   She was asking me   To come back.  So I sat down on the bed again. She climbed onto my lap  And lay there quietly , Trusting me  With her entire being.  I gently placed my hand  On her small belly. Suddenly,  My mother's words   Echoed in My mind-  "On full moon days, It's hard  For expecting mothers."  That sentence  Found its meaning  That day. All at once  She grew restless. She ran to the living room,...

In the quiet moment when the morning sun first touches the leaves, A moving dream of colors takes flight. The butterfly. It has no fixed destination. No borders. No schedule. Yet somehow,it knows exactly where to go. Like a poem,it doesn't Rush - It simply exist. Once,it was hidden away in a dull cocoon, Wrapped in silence 🤐 and waiting. Now,it paints The sky with fragile wings. It reminds us that patience,pain,and stillness Ara not the end• They are part of becoming. As it moves from flowers to flowers, The world seems to slow down. For a brief moment, The noise,the pressure,the endless hurry of life  All fade into the background. Breathing feels easier. The butterfly is not just beauty 😍. It is a message. That changes can be gentle. That freedom is not something to fear. That even if it takes time, We are all capable of flying. And maybe that's why, When we watch a butterfly disappear into the sky, Something inside us whispers~ Our own wings are still growing 🦋 And maybe t...

  It's normal night.Just as usual I sleep alone in my room.suddenly I heard sounds like a horror film.usualy in the night before the sleep I observe pansil. But that night I forget to observe pansil.With that horror sound I remembered it. It's feel like I have passed urine😂.To sure that I touch my bedsheet."oh shit! What's this?" I got up quickly from the bed and try to switch on the light."oh.."I fell from the bed ."It's hurts"🤕 I don't know how I fell.I look around . It's full with darkness. suddenly I saw someone is there. "Lights on, surprised" "Happy birthday to you 🎉 🎂🎈" I got sometimes to realized that it was my birthday.I got tears.It's my family .They had decorated my room and there was a cake🎂on my table .We were celebrating my birthday. After the celebration my sister reviel she was the one who plays the horror sound and put water 💦 in to my bedsheets.