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...
Hmmm...
ReplyDeleteSo do you want to take the beaten track or the one less travelled ?
Partly both I guess!
ReplyDeleteThat means like me you also do not know what the hell we are doing with our goddamn lives ;-) !
ReplyDeleteThat was, is and will always be there!!! Life generally rolls over on you before you realise whether you are on the right path!!! I am not sure whether you have experienced that. Given a choice, I would really want to go back a few years in time and change the basics!!!
ReplyDeleteWishful thinking, huh?
I agree ! This poem is pinned on my cubicle wall and whenever I am really down, I read it ! :)
ReplyDelete