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Forumer Fanatik
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PostSubject: NICE STORY TO SHARE....   Wed Oct 14, 2009 1:42 pm

di sini aiskacang nak kongsi cerita2 yg aiskacang pernah baca, yg baik blh dijadikan contoh / tauladan & yg buruk dijadikan sempadan.

kawan2 kalau ada cerita2 yg menarik, blh la share kat cni... Very Happy
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PostSubject: The irreplaceable void: ?????   Wed Oct 14, 2009 1:49 pm

4 years ago, an accident took my beloved away and very often I wonder,
how does my wife, who is now in the heavenly realm, feel right now? She must
be feeling extremely sad for leaving a husband who is incapable to taking
care of the house and the kid. 'cos that is the exact feeling that I have, as
I feel that I have failed to provide for the physical and emotional needs
of my child, and failed to be the dad and mum for my child.

There was one particular day, when I had an emergency at work. Hence, I
had to leave home whilst my child was still sleeping. So thinking that there
was still rice leftovers, I hastily cooked an egg and left after informing my
sleepy child.

With the double roles, I am often exhausted at work as well as when I am
home. So after a long day, I came home, totally drained of all energy. So
with just a brief hug and kiss for my child, I went straight into the
room, skipping dinner. However, when I jumped into my bed with intention of
just having a well-deserved sleep, all i heard and felt was broken porcelain
and warm liquid! I flipped open my blanket, and there lies the source of the
'problem'... a broken bowl with instant noodles and a mess on the
bedsheet and blanket!

Boy , was I mad! I was so furious that I took a clothes hanger, charged
straight at my child who was happily playing with his toy, and give him a
good spanking! He merely cried but not asking for mercy, except a short

"Dad, I was hungry and there wasn't anymore leftover rice. But you were
not back yet, hence I wanted to cook some instant noodles. But I remembered
you reminding me not to touch or use the gas stove without any adults around,
hence I turned on the shower and used the hot water from the bathroom to
cook the noodles. One is for you and the other is for me. However, I was
afraid that the noodles will turn cold, so I hid it under the blanket to
keep it warm till you return. But I forgot to remind you 'cos I was
playing with my toys...I am sorry Dad..."

At that moment, tears were starting to run down my cheeks...but I didn't
want my son to see his dad crying so I dashed into the bathroom and cried
with the shower head on to mask my cries. After that episode, I went
towards my son to give him a tight hug and applied medication on him, while
coaxing him to sleep. Then, it was time to clear up the mess on the bed. When
everything was done and well past midnight, I passed my son's room, and
saw that he was still crying, not from the pain on his little buttock, but
from looking at the photograph of his beloved mummy.

A year has passed since the episode, I have tried, in this period, to
focus on giving him both the love of his dad and mum, and to attend to most of
his needs. And soon, he is turning seven, and will be graduating from
kindergarten. Fortunately, the incident did not leave a lasting
impression on his childhood memories and he is still happily growing up.

However, not so long ago, I hit my boy again, with much regret. This
time, his kindergarten teacher called, informing me of my son's absence from
school. I took off early from work and went home, expecting him to
explain. But he wasn't to be found, so I went around our house, calling out his
name and eventually found him outside a stationery shop, happily playing
computer games. I was fuming, brought him home and whack the hell out of him. He
did not retaliate, except to say, 'I am sorry, Dad'. But after much probing,
I realized that it was a 'Talent Show' organized by his school and the
invite is for every student's mummy. And that was the reason for his absence as
he has no mummy.....

Few days after the caning, my son came home to tell me, the kindergarten
has recently taught him how to read and write. Since then, he has kept to
himself and stayed in his room to practise his writing, which I am sure,
would make my wife proud, if she was still around. 'cos he makes me proud

Time passes by very quickly, and soon another year has passed. It's
winter, and its Christmas time. Everywhere the christmas spirit is in every
passer-by...Christmas carol s and frantic shoppers....but alas, my son got
into another trouble. When I was about to knock off from the day's work,
the post office called. Due to the peak season, the post master was also on
an edgy mood. He called to tell me that my son has attempted to post several
letters with no addressee. Although I did make a promise never to hit my
son again, I couldn't help but to hit him as I feel that this child of mine
is really beyond control. Once again, as before, he apologized, ' I'm sorry,
Dad' and no additional reason to explain. I pushed him towards a corner,
went to the post office to collect the letters with no addressee and came
home, and angrily questioned my son on his prank, during this time of the

His answer, amidst his sobbing, was : The letters were for Mummy.

My eyes grew teary, but I tried to control my emotions and continued to
ask him: " But why did u post so many letters, at one time?" My son's reply
" I have been writing to mummy for a long time, but each time I reach out
for the post box, it was too high for me, hence I was not able to post
the letters.. But recently, when I went back to the postbox, I could reach it
and I sent it all at once..."

After hearing this, I was lost. Lost at not knowing what to do, what to

I told my son, " Son, mummy is in the heavenly kingdom, so in future, if
you have anything to tell her, just burn the letter and it will reach mummy.
My son, on hearing this, was much pacified and calm, and soon after, he was
sleeping soundly. On promising that I will burn the letters on his
I brought the letters outside, but couldnt help opening the letter before
they turn to ash.

And one of the letters broke my heart....

Dear Mummy,

I miss you so much! Today, there was a 'Talent Show' in school, and the
school invited all mothers for the show. But you are not around, so I did
not want to participate as well. I did not tell Dad about it as I was afraid
that Dad would start to cry and miss you all over again. Dad went around
looking for me, but in order to hide my sadness, I sat in front of the
computer and started playing games at one of the shops. Dad was furious,
and he couldnt help it but scolded and hit me, but I did not tell him the
real reason. Mummy, everyday I see Dad missing you and whenever he think of
you, he is so sad and often hide and cry in his room. I think we both miss you
very very much. Too much for our own good I think. But Mummy, I am
starting to forget your face. Can you please appear in my dreams so that I can see
your face and remember you? I heard that if you fall asleep with the
photograph of the person whom you miss, you will see the person in your
dreams. But mummy, why havent you appear?

After reading the letter, I cant stop sobbing. 'cos I can never replace
the irreplaceable gap left behind by my wife....

For the females with children:

Don't do so much overtime. If you cannot finish the work, it must be some
kind of problems within the company, and it is not your sole problem.
Feedback to your boss. Endless overtime may not necessary be the answer
to the problem. Take care of your health so that you can treasure and take
care of your little precious.

For the married men:

Drink less, smoke less, cos nothing can replace your good health, not
even business nor clients.

Try thinking this way, are you able to work till your clients are totally
dependent on you? or your boss is totally dependent on you? In this
society, no one is indispensable.

Take care of your health, so that you can take care of your little
precious and your loved ones.

For those singles out there:

Beauty lies in loving yourself first.

With confidence and loving yourself, you will see the beauty in other
things around you. You will be able to work better and happier. Don't let your
health be affected by your work or your boss, so nothing matters more
than your well being.

aiskacang meleleh2 airmata bila baca...
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PostSubject: Carrots, Eggs, & Coffee!   Thu Oct 15, 2009 10:49 am

A carrot, an egg, and a cup of coffee...You will never look at a cup of coffee the same way again.

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up, She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil.. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, ' Tell me what you see.'

'Carrots, eggs, and coffee,' she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.

Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, 'What does it mean, mother?'

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently.. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

'Which are you?' she asked her daughter. 'When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.

When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.

Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.

May we all be COFFEE!!!!!!!
bounce bounce bounce
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PostSubject: Re: NICE STORY TO SHARE....   Fri Oct 16, 2009 2:18 pm

A loving story...
This is such an inspiring story...You should read it until the end...

I was born in a secluded village on a mountain. Day by day, my parents
plowed the yellow dry soil with their backs towards the sky.

I have a brother who is 3 years younger than me. I wanted to buy a
handkerchief, which all girls around me seemed to have. So, one day I
stole 50 cents from my father's drawer. Father had discovered about
the stolen money right away.

He made me and my younger brother kneel against the wall as he held a
bamboo stick in his hand. 'Who stole the money?' he asked. I was stunned,
too afraid to talk. Neither of us admitted to the fault, so he said,
'Fine, if nobody wants to admit, you two should be beaten!'

H e lifted up the bamboo stick. Suddenly, my younger brother gripped
father's hand and said,' Dad, I was the one who did it!' The long stick
smacked my brother's back repeatedly. Father was so angry that he kept
on whipping my brother until he lost his breath. After that, he sat down
on our stone bed and scolded my brother, 'You have learned to steal from
your own house now. What other embarrassing things will you be possibly
doing in the future? You should be beaten to death, you shameless

That night, my mother and I hugged my brother. His body was full of
wounds from the beating but he never shed a single tear. In the middle
of the night, all of sudden, I cried out loudly. My brother covered my
mouth with his little hand and said, ' Sis, now don't cry anymore.
Everything has happened.'

I still hate myself for not having enough courage to admit what I did.
Years gone by, but the incident still seemed like it just happened
yesterday. I will never forget my brother's __expression when he
protected me.

That year, my brother was 8 years old and I was 11 years old. When my
brother was in his last year of secondary school, he was accepted in an
upper secondary school in the central. At the same time, I was accepted
into a university in the province. That night, father squatted in the
yard, smoking, packet by packet.

I could hear him ask my mother, 'Both of our children, they have good
results? very good results?' Mother wiped off her tears and sighed,' What
is the use? How can we possibly finance both of them?' At that time, my
brother walked out, he stood in front
of father and said,'Dad, I don't want to continue my study anymore, I
have read enough books.'

Father swung his hand and slapped my brother on his face. 'Why do you
have a spirit so damn weak? Even if it means I have to beg for money on
the streets, I will send you two to school until you have both finished
your study!'

And then, he started to knock on every house in the village to borrow
money. I stuck out my hand as gently as I can to my brother's swollen
face, and told him, 'A boy has to continue his study; If not, he will not
be able to overcome this poverty we are experiencing.'

I, on the other hand, had decided not to further my study at the
university. Nobody knew that on the next day, before dawn, my brother
left the house with a few pieces of worn-out clothes and a few dry beans.
He sneaked to my side of the bed and left a note on my pillow; 'Sis,
getting into a university is not easy. I will go find a job
and I will send money to you.'

I held the note while sitting on my bed, and cried until I lost my
voice. That year, my brother was 17 years old; I was 20 years old. With
the money father borrowed from the whole village, and the money my
brother earned from carrying cement on his back at a construction
site,finally, I managed to get to the third year of my study in the

One day, while I was studying in my room, my roommate came in and told
me,'There's a villager waiting for you outside!' Why would there be a
villager looking for me? I walked out, and I saw my brother from afar.
His whole body was covered with dirt, dust, cement and sand. I asked him,
'Why did you not tell my roommate that you are my

He replied with a smile,' Look at my appearance. What will they think if
they would know that I am your brother? Won't they laugh at you?' I
felt so touched, and tears filled my eyes. I swept away dirt and dust
from my brother's body. And told him with a lump in my throat, ' I don't
care what people would say! You are my brother no matter what your
appearance is?'

From his pocket, he took out a butterfly hair clip. He put it on my hair
and said, 'I saw all the girls in town are wearing it. So, I think you
should also have one.' I could not hold back myself anymore. I pulled
my brother into my arms and cried.

That year, my brother was 20 years old; I was 23 years old. I noticed
that the broken window was repaired the first time I brought my boyfriend
home. The house was
scrubbed cleaned. After my boyfriend left, I danced like a little girl
in front of my mother, 'Mom, you didn't have to spend so much time
cleaning the house!' But she told me with a smile,'

It was your brother who went home early to clean the house. Didn't you
see the wound on his hand? He hurt his hand while he was replacing the
window.' I went into my brother's bedroom. Looking at his thin face, I
felt like there are hundreds of needle pricked in my heart.

I applied some ointment on his wound and put a bandag e on it, 'Does it
hurt? ' I asked him. 'No, it doesn't hurt. You know, when at the
construction site, stones keep falling on my feet . Even that could not
stop me from working.' In the middle of the sentence, he stopped. I
turned my back on him and tears rolled down my face.

That year, my brother was 23 years old; I was 26 years old. After I got
married, I lived in the city. Many times my husband invited my parents to
come and live with us, but they didn't want. They said, once they left
the village,they wouldn't know what to do. My brother agreed with them.
He said, 'Sis, you just take care of your parents-in-law. I will take
care of mom and dad here.'

My husband became the director of his factory. We asked my brother to
accept the offer of being the manager in the maintenance department. But
my brother rejected the offer. He insisted on working as a repairman
instead for a start.

One day, my brother was on the top of a ladder repairing a cable, when
he got electrocuted, and was sent to the hospital. My husband and I
visited him at the hospital. Looking at the white gypsum on his leg, I
grumbled, 'Why did you reject the offer of being a manager? Managers
won't do something dangerous like that. Now look at you, You ar
suffering a serious injury. Why didn't you just listen to us?'

With a serious expression on his face, he defended his decision, 'Think
of brother-in-law. He just became the director, and I being uneducated,
and would become a manager, what kind of rumors would fly around?' My
husband's eyes filled up with tears, and then I said, 'But you lack in
education only because of me!' 'Why do you talk about the past?' he
said and then he held my hand.

That year, he was 26 years old and I was 29 years old. My brother was 30
years old when he married a farmer girl from the village. During the
wedding reception, the master of ceremonies asked him, 'Who is the one
person you respect and love the most?'

Without even taking a time to think, he answered,' My sister.' He
continued by telling a story I could not even remember.

'When I was in primary school, the school was in a different village.
Everyday, my sister and I would walk for 2 hours to school and back
home. One day, I lost the other pair of my gloves. My sister gave me one
of hers. She wore only one glove and she had to walk far. When we got
home, her hands were trembling because of the cold weather that she could
not even hold her chopsticks.

From that day on, I swore that as long as I live, I would take care of my
sister and will always be good to her.' Applause filled up the room. All
guests turned their attention to me. I found it hard to speak, 'In my
whole life, the one I would like to thank most is my brother,' And in
this happy occasion,in front of the crowd, tears were rolling down my
face again.

Love and care for the one you love every single days of your life. You
may think what you did is just a small deed, but to that someone, it may mean a lot.

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PostSubject: RED MARBLES   Tue Oct 27, 2009 9:45 am

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas.

I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes.
Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
'Hello Barry, how are you today?'
'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya.. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.'
'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'

Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.'
'Would you like to take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.

'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'

'All I got's my prize marble here.'
'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller..
'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'
'I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.
'Not zackley but almost..'
'Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble'.. Mr.. Miller told the boy.
'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died.
They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking.. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.

Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her, and moved on to the casket.

Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one; each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles... With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.

'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them.. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size.......they came to pay their debt..'
'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho.'
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband.. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.

The Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath....


Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile
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PostSubject: Re: NICE STORY TO SHARE....   Mon Nov 09, 2009 5:08 pm

One old man was sitting with his 25 years old son in the train. Train is about to leave the station. All the passengers are settling down into their seats. As the train started the young man was filled with alot of joy and curiosity. He was sitting on the window side. He went out one hand and feeling the passing air. He shouted, "Papa see all the trees are going behind". Old man smile and admired his son's feelings. Beside the young man one couple was sitting and listening all the conversation between father and son. They were little awkward with the attitude of the 25 years old man behaving like a small child.

Suddenly the young man again shouted, "Papa see the pond and animals. Clouds are moving with the train". Couple was watching the young man in embarrassingly. Now its start raining and some of water drops touches the young man's hand. He is filled with joy and he closed his eyes. He shouted again," Papa it's raining, water is touching me, see papa". Couple couldn't help themselves and ask the old man. Why don't you visit the Doctor and get your son treated. Old man said," *Yes, We were from the hospital. Today my son got his eyes for the first time in his life".*

Moral of the story is;

**We must not come to any conclusion until we know all the facts"*

Embarassed Embarassed
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PostSubject: Re: NICE STORY TO SHARE....   Wed Sep 08, 2010 2:14 am

forum bahasa inggeris ke ni kak..........
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PostSubject: Re: NICE STORY TO SHARE....   Thu Sep 09, 2010 9:09 am

zullangat wrote:
forum bahasa inggeris ke ni kak..........

Oh tidak...Forum ni boleh kongsi apa-apa bahasa pun...
kalau ada yang tak faham, anda boleh kemukakan...
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PostSubject: Re: NICE STORY TO SHARE....   Thu Sep 09, 2010 7:20 pm

~.:B@!y!n@h:.~ wrote:
zullangat wrote:
forum bahasa inggeris ke ni kak..........

Oh tidak...Forum ni boleh kongsi apa-apa bahasa pun...
kalau ada yang tak faham, anda boleh kemukakan...

he he he
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PostSubject: Re: NICE STORY TO SHARE....   Thu Sep 09, 2010 11:38 pm

Kalau semua perkhidmatan sini berbahasa melayu, baru saya yakin kita kena guna bahasa Melayu 100%....

Walauapapun, sesiapa yang nak translate cerita bahasa Inggeris di atas ni kepada bahasa melayu pun boleh... takde salahnye... Asalkan minta kebenaran dengan pembuka tajuk ni.... Nanti tersinggung la pula pembuka topic ni kalau kita tak minta kebenaran dulu....
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PostSubject: Re: NICE STORY TO SHARE....   Tue Dec 25, 2012 2:30 pm

Anyway..... Semua cerita sngt sngt menyentuh perasaan....
And we also can improve our english.... Kan
the best story of all is about father and son also sister and brothersangat sangat touching samlai sy menangis....

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MELAYU BOLEH :: Dunia Ilmu :: Karya Melayu Boleh :: Kisah Benar-
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