#anapurna

#अन्नपूर्णामुहिम_किसानोंकेलिए

💬 सरपंच जी ने कहा,

"हमें उम्मीद थी, पर इतनी नहीं थी कि इतनी सारी लाइनें मिल जाएँगी। उन्होंने हमारी उम्मीद से भी ज़्यादा मदद की है।" 🌟

🚜🌊 संत रामपाल जी महाराज ने न सिर्फ़ बाढ़ के पानी को निकालने का साधन दिया, बल्कि 💧 पीने के पानी के लिए 2 समर्सिबल पंप भी भेजे, जिससे गाँव की हर ज़रूरत का ध्यान रखा गया। 🏡❤️

🤝 Sewa By SantRampalJi 🌍🌸

An in depth analysis of what is one of my favorite games in the whole wide world. Although I’ve never fell out of love, I recognize how world-ending the emotions that follow must seem. As the ending says, “For years she fell through spirals of sadness and anger until she could not fall any deeper and fell right back into her groove.”

A fool out of love was what they called her, fitting was such a term as she fell to despair, unable to grasp the shards of a heart dared to be broken. The path to her oblivion appeared endless, violent in the descent into the unknown, and yet her body could only stand idle as her soul and her mind were now at odds. “Sayonara,” she said, except it was a goodbye she wished could be taken back; it was a farewell that remained bittersweet on her taste buds. When one says goodbye for the last time, their heart aches for what seems like forever. Eventually, pieces fall and they roam to places strife with anguish, lost with a love no longer existing. 

Not long ago in a town much like yours, there was a young woman who fell out of love. The word became foreign, a distant memory coming back to haunt her because maybe she never was in love, and the remnants of her wild heart fell off her sleeve the more she questioned it all. With the inquiries of where the beginning of the end took place, all pointing towards her, love was hard to grasp once realizing that it meant loss too polarizing for her to bear. Her cries for help remained unheard, unable to be understood, sinking further into the deep that grew into her doubts and afflictions. She wanted to be someone else, someone better. She wanted to go batshit crazy, near animalistic, plotting revenge against those whose feelings were affected less. God, if death wasn’t the final answer; how effortless would it be if her existence ceased to exist along with the heartbreak and the pathetic promise that what was lost was inevitably to be found?            

Yet with the foundations of time and space in need of saving, a fool was to be its liberator. After being caught in a dream, collecting hearts that had gone astray in hopes of mending themselves, love was found in the most necessary of places: her, whom had ignored it to search for love in others. In this dream of hers, she beat the pieces of that wild heart of hers into submission, throwing them aside so she can search for something, anything, more than this. How fitting of this young woman to learn to accept them all, faced with the realization that it was okay to fall out of love. It was okay to be her.