Many things I lost in life..many wonderful human beings--who I will never meet again & who may come over to me in course of time...again & again [They say, the world is pretty small]..
February is about to end now..the onset of spring means onset of Summer too...I remember those golden days of school...end of February always used to mean "Exam fever"...studies, studies & studies again..forget playing with friends, out with parents on Sundays, or even watching favorite TV shows or cartoon shows..its studies day & night...with mother sitting next to me..asking me, whatever I could read/mug up.
Mathematics...umm..I was never strong in it...& co-incidentally, the date of mathematics exam will fall on the day after Holi [A prior conspiracy by teacher???]. I remember, I was rather forbidden to play Holi, since we had scarcity of water...so I used to observe those people playing with colors, waters etc....& in the evening, my Pishi[paternal aunt] would come over...with some sweets for me..it repeated every year!!
Post exam..was a leave for about a month...so holidaying...I remember visiting Nepal in 2000. But once I reached there, I was suffering from Diarrhoea. Ohh..that was so painful!!! I could not go anywhere...only staying in the room...throughout the day & post exam??? It was the Results!!
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New classes in Summer...high heat...new class, new books & new teachers..fortunately..friends, enemies, crushes...still the same :). I now feel the summer is ushering in...gradually..it makes me nostalgic...reminds me of those days lost...however, I am hopeful for the days lying ahead...But at last...my play will be done...the end is nigh
I was reading an excellent poem by Swami Vivekananda today afternoon...copying it here, for your sake
MY PLAY IS DONE
(Written in the Spring of 1895 in New York)
Ever rising, ever falling with the waves of time,
still rolling on I go
From fleeting scene to scene ephemeral,
with life's currents' ebb and flow.
Oh! I am sick of this unending force;
these shows they please no more.
This ever running, never reaching,
nor e'en a distant glimpse of shore!
From life to life I'm waiting at the gates,
alas, they open not.
Dim are my eyes with vain attempt
to catch one ray long sought.
On little life's high, narrow bridge
I stand and see below
The struggling, crying, laughing throng.
For what? No one can know.
In front yon gates stand frowning dark,
and say: "No farther way,
This is the limit; tempt not Fate,
bear it as best you may;
Go, mix with them and drink this cup
and be as mad as they.
Who dares to know but comes to grief;
stop then, and with them stay."
Alas for me. I cannot rest.
This floating bubble, earth —
Its hollow form, its hollow name,
its hollow death and birth —
For me is nothing. How I long
to get beyond the crust
Of name and form! Ah! ope the gates;
to me they open must.
Open the gates of light, O Mother, to me Thy tired son.
I long, oh, long to return home!
Mother, my play is done.
You sent me out in the dark to play,
and wore a frightful mask;
Then hope departed, terror came,
and play became a task.
Tossed to and fro, from wave to wave
in this seething, surging sea
Of passions strong and sorrows deep,
grief is, and joy to be,
Where life is living death, alas! and death —
who knows but 'tis
Another start, another round of this old wheel
of grief and bliss?
Where children dream bright, golden dreams,
too soon to find them dust,
And aye look back to hope long lost
and life a mass of rust!
Too late, the knowledge age cloth gain;
scarce from the wheel we're gone
When fresh, young lives put their strength
to the wheel, which thus goes on
From day to day and year to year.
'Tis but delusion's toy,
False hope its motor; desire, nave;
its spokes are grief and joy.
I go adrift and know not whither.
Save me from this fire!
Rescue me, merciful Mother, from floating with desire!
Turn not to me Thy awful face,
'tis more than I can bear.
Be merciful and kind to me,
to chide my faults forbear.
Take me, O Mother, to those shores
where strifes for ever cease;
Beyond all sorrows, beyond tears,
beyond e'en earthly bliss;
Whose glory neither sun, nor moon,
nor stars that twinkle bright,
Nor flash of lightning can express.
They but reflect its light.
Let never more delusive dreams
veil off Thy face from me.
My play is done, O Mother,
break my chains and make me free!
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