Talk about prolific, huh?

Yeah, it comes and goes-- sometimes I write everyday, sometimes nothing for months together.
It's not writer's temperament or anything, it just depends on what else is happening in life and stuff.
Since my last blog, life has been going at quite a rapid pace, and I've been thinking about what it all means, what we really want from it, and what is the best way to get it.
And I often remembered the randomest things: like the poem called Leisure that I studied at school:

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?

No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

I remember an accompanying picture, that of a man leaning on a fence, with a straw of hay in his mouth, staring at sheep grazing in a meadow nearby.

I thought then that it looked stupid, what would he do for a living if he just stared at sheep?
Now, the real meaning of the poem seems to have sunk in, and the idea of the guy on the fence is not laughable, but a goal to be attained.

I'm thinking maybe I shoud revisit alltime popular school poems like "The Solitary Reaper," and Robert Frost's "Miles to go before I sleep" poem. In any case, the last mentioned is a weird choice for a ninth grade textbook-- enough with the sleep and depression already!

General musings

Aah! How it must feel to be young!
At a recent cultural program staged by Harvard "kids," I experienced an emotion that stayed with me for a while -- that of longing. I wondered-- how great it must be to feel that your greatest problem revolves around the attention of a young woman, your greatest fear that you might miss a note while performing on stage, and your greatest pride your grades.
Off stage, I saw the parents of the very college kids, beaming at the achievements of their progeny. It was a South Asian program, and it was indeed a culmination of their dreams-- that their children not lose their heritage, and receive a good education! As the lights went out, the law abiding citizens flouted rules and flashed their cameras to record those moments for posterity.
As the children poked fun at their accents and their insistence on Indian culture-- the parents didn't break the smile on their face. They clapped heartily, and genuinely enjoyed the program. I spoke to parents who had come in from all corners of the globe to see how their children perform: It was like a pilgrimage for them. In fact, the parents said they typically did not get to spend nearly as much time with their children as they'd like.
And I wondered: How must it feel to be a parent, giving your all for someone else, overlooking all their little faults and completely giving up your ego? Probably equidistant from both, I figured mine must be the phase of life where the feeling is least.
In a week, I saw a friend's child tell her pal that she wished she were her little sister-- all she does all day is suck her thumb and coo!

De-generation

Been a long, long time since I wrote. Lots of stuff happening, but really not. But I ramble. I have recently started thinking a lot about life, and the finite nature of it.
So here is a take on what lies ahead.

You know you’re part of generation “W” (ahem.. the one before X) when:

1. Your hanging out and shopping at the city after a hard day’s work yields a cauliflower and a couple of bell peppers.
2. You are mildly irritated that older people are not being offered seats on the bus.
3. Night, for you, starts at 6:30 p.m.
4. You don’t understand the music on the radio (or) if NPR is on your car’s preset. In fact, if you just listen to the radio, you’re certified W.
5. You declare St. Valentine’s Day as a marketing gimmick.
6. Your town meeting is marked on your calendar.
7. You know the town meets every now and then.
8. You think cassettes are perfectly normal music storage devices.
9. You call people on the phone just to say “hi.”
10. You reminesce, not imagine, about life without technology and instant communication.
11. You read, voluntarily.