Everything Else Is Rubble

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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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Limericks

In a town lived a bull dog,
Which always tried to hog,
And when caught in dark,
Always tried to force a bark
That left everyone agog!!

From rags to riches we rise,
And still not forget our ties,
Lone were your sad times,
No one to give you any dimes,
But we all know time flies!!

Life is not any fun,
When all you have is nun,
Enjoy life without the fizz,
Too boring without the Miss,
Until you find the right one!!

I once upon a time read a book,
Which was about a highway crook,
For the sake of love did he live,
He always had lots of things to give,
And he got in return not a look!!

I was in search of a girl,
To change my life with a twirl,
There was only one face,
Who could change my pace,
But she was caught in a whirl!!

In Germany I missed a lot,
What it was I knew not,
To search back home was the lure,
For what I still wasn't sure,
With that I fell back on my cot!!

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