did you touch the heart of some one?

hai friends...

one of my friend often calls me up and says 'dei rams machhi!...you have made my life beautiful raa!...you actually don't know how much impact you made in my life!'

we make everlasting impressions in the heart of many without our knowledge!

now read this beautiful story...not my story...(thanks to cdr aruna ranganathan!)

When I was a young boy, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood..

 I    remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver    hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but    used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it. Then I discovered    that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her    name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not    know. 

Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time.    My personal    experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was    visiting a neighbor. 

Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I    whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no    point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my    throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly,    I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing.    Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. 

"Information, please" I said    into the  mouthpiece just above my head.  A click or two and a small clear voice    spoke into my ear.  

"Information."  

"I hurt my finger..." 

I    wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough     now that I had an audience. 

"Isn't your    mother home?" came the question. 

"Nobody's    home but me," I blubbered.  

"Are you    bleeding?" the voice asked. 

"No,"     I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts." 

"Can you open the icebox?"    she asked.   

I said I could.  "Then chip    off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice..  

After that, I    called "Information Please" for everything.. 

I asked her for     help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped    me with my math.  She told me my pet    chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit    and nuts. 

Then, there was    the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called,  Information    Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said    things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. 

I asked    her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to    all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a    cage?" 

She must have sensed my deep concern,    for she said quietly, 

" Wayne , always remember that there are other    "worlds to sing in."  Somehow I felt    better.  

Another day I was    on the telephone, "Information Please."  "Information," said in the    now familiar voice. "How do I spell fix?"  I asked.  All this took place in a small town in    the Pacific Northwest . 

When I was nine years old, we moved across the    country to Boston . I missed my friend very much.     "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home    and I     somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table    in the hall. 

As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood    conversations never really left me.. Often, in moments    of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had    then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to    have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later,    on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle . I had about a half-hour    or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister,    who lived there now. 

Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my    hometown operator and said,  "Information Please."  

Miraculously, I heard the    small, clear voice I knew so well.   "Information."  I hadn't planned this, but I heard    myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to    spell fix?"  

There was a long    pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must    have healed by now." 

 
I laughed,    "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any     idea how much you meant to me during that time?"  I wonder,"    she said, "if you know how much your call meant to me.  I never had any children and I used to    look forward to your calls."      I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I    could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.  "Please    do", she said. "Just ask for Sally."

   
Three months later    I was back in Seattle .  A different voice answered,  "Information."     I asked for Sally.  "Are you a friend?" she    said.   "Yes, a very    old friend," I answered.   "I'm sorry to have to tell you    this, She said. "Sally had been working part time the last    few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."   Before I could hang up, she said,    " Wait a minute, did you say your name    was Wayne ?" "  Yes." I answered.    "Well, Sally left a message for    you. She wrote it down in case you    called.  Let me read it to you."  

The note said, "Tell him there are other worlds    to sing in. He'll know what I mean." I thanked her and hung up. I knew what    Sally meant.

        

Never underestimate the impression you    may make on others....Whose life have you touched today?

Let us touch the heart of some one every day...and bring in meaning to some life every day...by removing the pains there!

rams