Everything Else Is Rubble
The administrative office in front of the main building. In this age of endless information, I sometimes pause and realize something strange. I am drowning in information, but starving for memories. Every day, my mind absorbs hundreds of headlines, messages, videos, opinions, and notifications. Most of them vanish without a trace. Yet when I stop for a moment, memories from forty years ago return with astonishing clarity. Today, for some reason, my thoughts wandered back to my school and its teachers. I remember my kindergarten teacher, Ms. Carol at Little Angels. She was Anglo-Indian, impeccably dressed, and absolutely determined that every letter I wrote should sit neatly within the four lines of my notebook. Not touching the ceiling. Not falling through the floor. Perfectly contained. I don't remember what I had for lunch three days ago. But I remember those four lines. My first-grade teacher, Ms. Alice at BP Indian Public School, was...

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ReplyDeleteI never knew this article can give rise to so many complications!!!!
ReplyDeletewhy did u remove the comments?
ReplyDeleteYou know what Kanna had to say....First he says x and then he says epower x. I guess he thought he finally had it enough and has deleted it from the site!!!
ReplyDeleteOf course, I'm sure you get a good enough share of jokes from Rosa.. There's one you missed last sem..
ReplyDeleteWhy do math guys confuse Halloween for Christmas...?
coz Dec(imal) 25 = Oct(al)31