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...
Looks like I have seen this...wait did I send this as thought of the day ? ;-)
ReplyDeleteman,
ReplyDeleteI had this poem in my eighth standard!! One of my alltime favourite poems...and the most inspiring..!! and maybe u sent it as thought for the day...i dont remember!!
I did not say I wrote it.
ReplyDeleteCmon...even i never meant that:-))
ReplyDeletea really inspiring one, especially for people like us who perpetually lack the motivation to do things.
ReplyDeleteAahaa.. That rings a bell. Rudyard Kipling oda poem-a eppovo school-la padichcha nyabagam..
ReplyDeleteIf...
ReplyDeleteYes a classic.. but then i remember reading in the 'LONDON' magazine of lit abt someone who got to india and heard a student reciting 'If'. The article went on to says something abt the value system of India as against the west. And about how the desirable values are changing the world over while India's sticking on..
Good or bad? Don't ask me..