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...
Water....this reminds of a line someone wrote when I was in school about floods--"Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink"
ReplyDeleteAnonymous: True, any trek, and all I think about is water!!!!
ReplyDeleteA post that anyone and everyone can identify with.
ReplyDeleteThanks David :-)
ReplyDeleteInteresting!
ReplyDeleteThat's a wonderful word. It leaves the reader thinking what he wants to hear. Yes, but surely something one can relate to :-) Water----more so after today for you anyway.....!
Excellent!!!!
ReplyDeletePavan: Water, water and water!!! Ooooooh man :-) Unforgettable :-)
ReplyDeleteShubhika: Thanks!!!
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ReplyDelete