The Alchemist- by Paulo Coelho

[AQN]

"When you want something from the bottom of your heart, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it".

Yes, it's a great line of Paulo Coelho from his book The Alchemist.

I read this long ago I really liked it. Initially you need to be little patient and try to feel the essence of such writing, and once you come in synchronization with the writer, you get the whole thing : )

It's a wonderful story .... and makes u get up and go for your dreams : )

Its all about having dreams ... then pursuing them .... fighting with the risks ... being optimistic and so on.

Hope u too will enjoy reading it.

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[AQN]

PART ONE:

The boy's name was Santiago. Dusk was falling as the boy arrived with his herd at an
abandoned church. The roof had fallen in long ago, and an enormous sycamore had
grown on the spot where the sacristy had once stood.
He decided to spend the night there. He saw to it that all the sheep entered through the
ruined gate, and then laid some planks across it to prevent the flock from wandering away
during the night. There were no wolves in the region, but once an animal had strayed
during the night, and the boy had had to spend the entire next day searching for it.
He swept the floor with his jacket and lay down, using the book he had just finished
reading as a pillow. He told himself that he would have to start reading thicker books:
they lasted longer, and made more comfortable pillows.
It was still dark when he awoke, and, looking up, he could see the stars through the halfdestroyed
roof.
I wanted to sleep a little longer, he thought. He had had the same dream that night as a
week ago, and once again he had awakened before it ended.
He arose and, taking up his crook, began to awaken the sheep that still slept. He had
noticed that, as soon as he awoke, most of his animals also began to stir. It was as if some
mysterious energy bound his life to that of the sheep, with whom he had spent the past
two years, leading them through the countryside in search of food and water. "They are
so used to me that they know my schedule," he muttered. Thinking about that for a
moment, he realized that it could be the other way around: that it was he who had become
accustomed to their schedule.
But there were certain of them who took a bit longer to awaken. The boy prodded them,
one by one, with his crook, calling each by name. He had always believed that the sheep
were able to understand what he said. So there were times when he read them parts of his
books that had made an impression on him, or when he would tell them of the loneliness
or the happiness of a shepherd in the fields. Sometimes he would comment to them on the
things he had seen in the villages they passed.

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[AQN]

But for the past few days he had spoken to them about only one thing: the girl, the
daughter of a merchant who lived in the village they would reach in about four days. He
had been to the village only once, the year before. The merchant was the proprietor of a
dry goods shop, and he always demanded that the sheep be sheared in his presence, so
that he would not be cheated. A friend had told the boy about the shop, and he had taken
his sheep there.
*
"I need to sell some wool," the boy told the merchant.
The shop was busy, and the man asked the shepherd to wait until the afternoon. So the
boy sat on the steps of the shop and took a book from his bag.
"I didn't know shepherds knew how to read," said a girl's voice behind him.
The girl was typical of the region of Andalusia, with flowing black hair, and eyes that
vaguely recalled the Moorish conquerors.
"Well, usually I learn more from my sheep than from books," he answered. During the
two hours that they talked, she told him she was the merchant's daughter, and spoke of
life in the village, where each day was like all the others. The shepherd told her of the
Andalusian countryside, and related the news from the other towns where he had stopped.
It was a pleasant change from talking to his sheep.
"How did you learn to read?" the girl asked at one point.
"Like everybody learns," he said. "In school."
"Well, if you know how to read, why are you just a shepherd?"
The boy mumbled an answer that allowed him to avoid responding to her question. He
was sure the girl would never understand. He went on telling stories about his travels, and
her bright, Moorish eyes went wide with fear and surprise. As the time passed, the boy
found himself wishing that the day would never end, that her father would stay busy and
keep him waiting for three days. He recognized that he was feeling something he had
never experienced before: the desire to live in one place forever. With the girl with the
raven hair, his days would never be the same again.
But finally the merchant appeared, and asked the boy to shear four sheep. He paid for the
wool and asked the shepherd to come back the following year.

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[AQN]

And now it was only four days before he would be back in that same village. He was
excited, and at the same time uneasy: maybe the girl had already forgotten him. Lots of
shepherds passed through, selling their wool.
"It doesn't matter," he said to his sheep. "I know other girls in other places."
But in his heart he knew that it did matter. And he knew that shepherds, like seamen and
like traveling salesmen, always found a town where there was someone who could make
them forget the joys of carefree wandering.
The day was dawning, and the shepherd urged his sheep in the direction of the sun. They
never have to make any decisions, he thought. Maybe that's why they always stay close to
me.
The only things that concerned the sheep were food and water. As long as the boy knew
how to find the best pastures in Andalusia, they would be his friends. Yes, their days
were all the same, with the seemingly endless hours between sunrise and dusk; and they
had never read a book in their young lives, and didn't understand when the boy told them
about the sights of the cities. They were content with just food and water, and, in
exchange, they generously gave of their wool, their company, and—once in a while—
their meat.
If I became a monster today, and decided to kill them, one by one, they would become
aware only after most of the flock had been slaughtered, thought the boy. They trust me,
and they've forgotten how to rely on their own instincts, because I lead them to
nourishment.

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[AQN]

The boy was surprised at his thoughts. Maybe the church, with the sycamore growing
from within, had been haunted. It had caused him to have the same dream for a second
time, and it was causing him to feel anger toward his faithful companions. He drank a bit
from the wine that remained from his dinner of the night before, and he gathered his
jacket closer to his body. He knew that a few hours from now, with the sun at its zenith,
the heat would be so great that he would not be able to lead his flock across the fields. It
was the time of day when all of Spain slept during the summer. The heat lasted until
nightfall, and all that time he had to carry his jacket. But when he thought to complain
about the burden of its weight, he remembered that, because he had the jacket, he had
withstood the cold of the dawn.
We have to be prepared for change, he thought, and he was grateful for the jacket's
weight and warmth.
The jacket had a purpose, and so did the boy. His purpose in life was to travel, and, after
two years of walking the Andalusian terrain, he knew all the cities of the region. He was
planning, on this visit, to explain to the girl how it was that a simple shepherd knew how
to read. That he had attended a seminary until he was sixteen. His parents had wanted
him to become a priest, and thereby a source of pride for a simple farm family. They
worked hard just to have food and water, like the sheep. He had studied Latin, Spanish,
and theology. But ever since he had been a child, he had wanted to know the world, and
this was much more important to him than knowing God and learning about man's sins.

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[AQN]

One afternoon, on a visit to his family, he had summoned up the courage to tell his father
that he didn't want to become a priest. That he wanted to travel.

"People from all over the world have passed through this village, son," said his father.
"They come in search of new things, but when they leave they are basically the same
people they were when they arrived. They climb the mountain to see the castle, and they
wind up thinking that the past was better than what we have now. They have blond hair,
or dark skin, but basically they're the same as the people who live right here."
"But I'd like to see the castles in the towns where they live," the boy explained.
"Those people, when they see our land, say that they would like to live here forever," his
father continued.
"Well, I'd like to see their land, and see how they live," said his son.
"The people who come here have a lot of money to spend, so they can afford to travel,"
his father said. "Amongst us, the only ones who travel are the shepherds."
"Well, then I'll be a shepherd!"
His father said no more. The next day, he gave his son a pouch that held three ancient
Spanish gold coins.
"I found these one day in the fields. I wanted them to be a part of your inheritance. But
use them to buy your flock. Take to the fields, and someday you'll learn that our
countryside is the best, and our women the most beautiful."
And he gave the boy his blessing. The boy could see in his father's gaze a desire to be
able, himself, to travel the world—a desire that was still alive, despite his father's having
had to bury it, over dozens of years, under the burden of struggling for water to drink,
food to eat, and the same place to sleep every night of his life.

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[AQN]

The horizon was tinged with red, and suddenly the sun appeared. The boy thought back
to that conversation with his father, and felt happy; he had already seen many castles and
met many women (but none the equal of the one who awaited him several days hence).
He owned a jacket, a book that he could trade for another, and a flock of sheep. But, most
important, he was able every day to live out his dream. If he were to tire of the
Andalusian fields, he could sell his sheep and go to sea. By the time he had had enough
of the sea, he would already have known other cities, other women, and other chances to
be happy. I couldn't have found God in the seminary, he thought, as he looked at the
sunrise.

Whenever he could, he sought out a new road to travel. He had never been to that ruined
church before, in spite of having traveled through those parts many times. The world was
huge and inexhaustible; he had only to allow his sheep to set the route for a while, and he
would discover other interesting things. The problem is that they don't even realize that
they're walking a new road every day. They don't see that the fields are new and the
seasons change. All they think about is food and water.
Maybe we're all that way, the boy mused. Even me—I haven't thought of other women
since I met the merchant's daughter. Looking at the sun, he calculated that he would reach
Tarifa before midday. There, he could exchange his book for a thicker one, fill his wine
bottle, shave, and have a haircut; he had to prepare himself for his meeting with the girl,
and he didn't want to think about the possibility that some other shepherd, with a larger
flock of sheep, had arrived there before him and asked for her hand.

+3 EXP

[AQN]

It's the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting, he thought, as
he looked again at the position of the sun, and hurried his pace. He had suddenly
remembered that, in Tarifa, there was an old woman who interpreted dreams.

The old woman led the boy to a room at the back of her house; it was separated from her
living room by a curtain of colored beads. The room's furnishings consisted of a table, an
image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and two chairs.

The woman sat down, and told him to be seated as well. Then she took both of his hands
in hers, and began quietly to pray.

It sounded like a Gypsy prayer. The boy had already had experience on the road with
Gypsies; they also traveled, but they had no flocks of sheep. People said that Gypsies
spent their lives tricking others.

It was also said that they had a pact with the devil, and
that they kidnapped children and, taking them away to their mysterious camps, made
them their slaves.

As a child, the boy had always been frightened to death that he would
be captured by Gypsies, and this childhood fear returned when the old woman took his
hands in hers.

But she has the Sacred Heart of Jesus there, he thought, trying to reassure himself. He
didn't want his hand to begin trembling, showing the old woman that he was fearful. He
recited an Our Father silently.
"Very interesting," said the woman, never taking her eyes from the boy's hands, and then
she fell silent.

The boy was becoming nervous. His hands began to tremble, and the woman sensed it.
He quickly pulled his hands away.
"I didn't come here to have you read my palm," he said, already regretting having come.

He thought for a moment that it would be better to pay her fee and leave without learning
a thing, that he was giving too much importance to his recurrent dream.
"You came so that you could learn about your dreams," said the old woman. "And
dreams are the language of God. When he speaks in our language, I can interpret what he
has said. But if he speaks in the language of the soul, it is only you who can understand.

But, whichever it is, I'm going to charge you for the consultation."
Another trick, the boy thought. But he decided to take a chance. A shepherd always takes
his chances with wolves and with drought, and that's what makes a shepherd's life
exciting.

"I have had the same dream twice," he said. "I dreamed that I was in a field with my
sheep, when a child appeared and began to play with the animals. I don't like people to do
that, because the sheep are afraid of strangers. But children always seem to be able to
play with them without frightening them. I don't know why. I don't know how animals
know the age of human beings."
"Tell me more about your dream," said the woman. "I have to get back to my cooking,
and, since you don't have much money, I can't give you a lot of time."
"The child went on playing with my sheep for quite a while," continued the boy, a bit
upset. "And suddenly, the child took me by both hands and transported me to the
Egyptian pyramids."
He paused for a moment to see if the woman knew what the Egyptian pyramids were. But
she said nothing.

"Then, at the Egyptian pyramids,"—he said the last three words slowly, so that the old
woman would understand—"the child said to me, If you come here, you will find a
hidden treasure.' And, just as she was about to show me the exact location, I woke up.
Both times."

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[AQN]

The woman was silent for some time. Then she again took his hands and studied them
carefully.

"I'm not going to charge you anything now," she said. "But I want one-tenth of the
treasure, if you find it."

The boy laughed—out of happiness. He was going to be able to save the little money he
had because of a dream about hidden treasure!

"Well, interpret the dream," he said.

"First, swear to me. Swear that you will give me one-tenth of your treasure in exchange
for what I am going to tell you."

The shepherd swore that he would. The old woman asked him to swear again while
looking at the image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

"It's a dream in the language of the world," she said. "I can interpret it, but the
interpretation is very difficult. That's why I feel that I deserve a part of what you find.

"And this is my interpretation: you must go to the Pyramids in Egypt. I have never heard
of them, but, if it was a child who showed them to you, they exist. There you will find a
treasure that will make you a rich man."

The boy was surprised, and then irritated. He didn't need to seek out the old woman for
this! But then he remembered that he wasn't going to have to pay anything.
"I didn't need to waste my time just for this," he said.

"I told you that your dream was a difficult one. It's the simple things in life that are the
most extraordinary; only wise men are able to understand them. And since I am not wise,
I have had to learn other arts, such as the reading of palms."

"Well, how am I going to get to Egypt?"

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[Capricious]

thanks for sharing AQN

"When you want something from the bottom of your heart, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it".

okay this is sharukh khan's famous dialogue from OSO.
face the fact people, indians are ahead beacuse they have educated people in every industry.
that Jadoo ki jhappee concept was taken from a short story given in the book "chicken soup for the soul".
and look at us here majority dont read quality material ! i know Pakistanies are far better, but we are lazy and not focused and we waste time a lot in trivial things/activities

+1 EXP

[AQN]

thanks for sharing AQN



okay this is sharukh khan's famous dialogue from OSO.
face the fact people, indians are ahead beacuse they have educated people in every industry.
that Jadoo ki jhappee concept was taken from a short story given in the book "chicken soup for the soul".
and look at us here majority dont read quality material ! i know Pakistanies are far better, but we are lazy and not focused and we waste time a lot in trivial things/activities

yup ... ur rite ... they know how to utilize things for their betterment ... ur talking abt movies tu they even have used so many songs n story from our movies (older ones) and made them superhitt ...
I guess they know how to represent or cash things ...

aur hamari movies aisey kisi literature sey inspired ho ... ye ho hi na jaaey!!

anyway ... thanks for reading : ) n ur most welcome

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[Capricious]

thanks AQN
waisay in the past, our directors, writers etc were also making good use of literature, for instance, Nyla ( which was the first Pakistani coloured movie) was based on a famous novel, "Anhoni" of waheed muraad can be called Pakistani Anastasia. etc

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[AQN]

thanks AQN
waisay in the past, our directors, writers etc were also making good use of literature, for instance, Nyla ( which was the first Pakistani coloured movie) was based on a famous novel, "Anhoni" of waheed muraad can be called Pakistani Anastasia. etc

I see @ Nyla based on novel ... u mean Urdu Novel?

waisey I have seen tht movie n yup it was a nice movie : )