Resignation

its a nice turn around
to effusions n inspirational preoccupation
welcome to the bards club
isloo

Zahra,

Thanks.

Suroor,

There`s nothing wrong with nostalgia. Who does`nt like being instantly transported to the past by a smell, a song, a word, a taste, the sunset over rooftops or a row of quaint shops.

What I was trying to say is that there`s a world of difference between seeing the child`s world through adult eyes and through their own.

This poem, borrowed or original, was just so sweet that it`s hard for me to criticize its place on the chowk. Sometimes arguing over our ethics, values, our religions or personal choices for not subscribing to one, makes us forget really what we all were before we were so Thoroughly cultured/corrupted (your choice).

I like these small reminders, poems/annecdotes that ground us, and are sometimes desperately needed, during the colorful adventures of our lives.

To Anarayan (Reply 23)

I can understand that childhood experiences may not be times that some reflect upon with the greatest joy, and maybe that has to with the possibility of severe negative expeiences- abuse, neglect, what have you, that outnumber the few happy moments. Now, if you still look back at your childhood negatively, you may not have completely healed from some of these times.

PS. It occurs to me that you may just be playing devil`s advocate here; if so, overlook the previous sentiment.

To Hamidm (reply #24)

It`s always so wonderful to hear stories from parents who routinely discover some of the `magic` that children carry with them. Someone once said that being around children cleanses our spirits....

the mysterious cycles of life.....

s

Reply 23 (Anarayan):

Good one! I liked your way of writing. Though I did not understand the Jeetendar`s reference in your post.

Reply 24 (Hamidm):

I read your post few days back and have been meaning to write on something that your daughter addressed. It is very coincidental that I had the same fear as a child. I had no concept of death and am still clueless about it. I can go back and recollect when I would pray very whole-heartedly for a very long life of my parents as a child, and I still do as an adult. Its the fear of unknown that is a killer. I somehow could never talk about my fear to my parents as I loved them too dearly to even think of speaking about this ``concept``. It is probably also driven by the story books that a child reads where a family is with Ammi, Abu and Sibblings. Books, Books, Books... They are the killers, the mind shapers and many other things.

Nice and touching poem there Shivani ji :-)

I think that there is a good reason why people always say that one`s childhood days are the best--and your lines described them well!

I think though that perhaps your poem could be read not only as nostalgia for childhood but as perhaps a longing for a simpler, more natural, way of life--something still to be found in the rural areas of the Subcontinent as I`ve experienced myself where life is slow and one really can feel at inner peace with one self.

Of course, you could leave this world and become a wandering dervish or a jogi if you wanted to....:-)

Dear PM,

Yup, I was expecting some kind of rebuttal :-).

Imagine Charlie Brown of peanuts fame (now all grown up), working as a day-trader. As the market swings up and down can you imagine him getting that familiar tummy-ache. Maybe he`ll start thinking about the good old days (when life was simple) and he stood on the baseball mound.

Now cut to the old days. Charlie Brown is standing on the mound. His pitches are hit to all corners of the ground and his team loses miserably - again. On the way home his teammates are letting him have it all the way. There`s that tummy-ache again.

``Maybe it isn`t even just the good, fun times we pine for (as we overlook the bad). Maybe we just long so much to FEEL as sentiently (the good times, bad times and everything in between) as we did as kids. Maybe if one doesn`t wonder whatever happened to the magic it`s because one`s (sadly) lost touch with it that much.``

A very good point Sir. Maybe I can tell you something interesting. Can you try a little experiment ? For best effect, do this when you are casually walking outside. As you look at various objects (trees, car, bus, grass, color, etc), notice how your brain instantly translates the observed thing into a word. That`s the difference between a child`s observation and an adult`s.

Now try this: look at a tree without the word (practice will make it better) or look at a color (somebody`s dress) without the word. How do you feel ? Now you see it AS IT REALLY IS (the child`s observation). The `quality` of perception is potent and `full`. As an adult I am not observing the actual but only the image created by the WORD inside my brain. (I wish I could take credit for this - but its not mine !).

regards,

AN

very cute...although i`m not even considered a legal adult yet. :)

But what if there was never any magic? Or what if subsequent experiences, or harsh realisations, render those magical times all but figments of a very distant dream?

Recommended film: Shine. 1996 Oscar-winning drama based on the life of Australian pianist David Helfgott.

Narayanji (re. #23):

Need I say it? You`ve missed the point. (Not that you weren`t expecting it to be said :-) )

The unpleasant incidents that you so vividly recount (that yes, so many of us can relate to) all resulted from the effort to have us outgrow our childish and childlike ways, which is, I think, what the poem laments.

And however much we dreaded the tyrant posing as teacher, ready to twist our ears red for not completing homework, don`t you think the after-school treats at gola-ganda walla (ice-candy man?), the gleeful trips home through the congested narrow streets on the `tanga` (two-wheeled horse-carraiges) and the sheer joy that accompanied a game choar-police at the park, the wondrous moments pondering on astronomy (and anatomy :-) ), the sheer joy of spending a day on the beach (even with messy, overcroweded beach huts), and the blueness of the sky and optimism of outlook back then, well, don`t you think they made up for the bad times?

Maybe it isn`t even just the good, fun times we pine for (as we overlook the bad). Maybe we just long so much to FEEL as sentiently (the good times, bad times and everything in between) as we did as kids.

Maybe if one doesn`t wonder whatever happened to the magic it`s because one`s (sadly) lost touch with it that much.

Remedial viewing for such as the above: Hook (the 1995-released Peter Pan story sarrring Dustin Hoffman and Robin Williams) Also, Mrs. Doubtfire.

Anyone got any other suggestions?? Please post.

regards,

PM

I don`t want to accuse the writer of plaigarism, but I have read this ditty in different forms over the past few years. The whole resigning as an adult thing and McDonald`s as a four star restaurant sounds so familiar..Hmmm...

Ah, the innocence of childhood ! I recently heard a cute joke that brings a child`s simplicity to light.

One Saturday evening a four year old ask his father, ``Daddy, daddy, tell me what are `the facts of life`?``

Father: ``Son, you are too young, when you grow up you`ll find out.``

4 yr old: ``No, daddy, I wanna know NOW.``

Father: ``Okay, then go hide in the back seat of the car, your older brother is going out in a little while and you`ll find out all about `the facts of life`.

A few minutes later the seventeen year old brother comes and asks dad for the car keys because he has to `go visit a friend`. ``Sure, son,`` says dad giving him the car keys.

The young man drives over to pick up his date and takes her to a secluded dark alley and says, ``Baby, I am a man of few words, what`s it gonna be, `Yes` or `No`?``

The young woman turn to him with indignation and says, ``How dare you ask me such a question? Who do think I am? Of course, NO.``

``Okay then,`` the young man says, opening the car door, ``walk back home!``

The teary young woman leaves the car slamming the door and the young man drives back home.

The four year old saw all this from the back seat of the car where he had been hiding.

Early next morning he takes his tricycle and paddles down the block to pick up his three year old girlfriend.

After about fifty yards, behind some bushes, he ask her, ``Baby, I am a man of few words, what`s it gonna be, `Yes` or `No`?``

The little girls looks at him in delight and says, ``YES``.

Puzzled, the four years old scratches his head and says, ``Okay, then you take the tricycle, and I`ll walk back home!``

...SR

Maybe seven year olds are not what they used to be.... here are some keen, yet disturbing observatons from my seven year old daughter who loves to play in the sprinklers, drinks all the profits from her lemonade stand, and can make her father melt with a smile and toss of the pony tail :

...on a recent trip to Pakistan she asked me, `` how do people get poor?`` As I struggled for an answer she reproached me for being ``mean`` to the little kids who run up to wipe the windshield .

.....the election campaign brought up the obvious question: ``How come God is not elected? ``

... one day she says, `` do you know what I always wish for?``. ``What?`` I asked her......``Nothing,`` she says with a troubled look. A few days later she brings up the subject again and agrees to tell me if I don`t tell Mamma....``okay..``. She looks me in the eye and in a sad little voice declares, `` I wish that you, and Mamma and my sister never die.``.......as I promise not to die until she is ninety seven, I wonder what goes on in that little head.

On a more cheerful note she also wants to know how much money Bill Gates has ....

Ye Gads ! I can`t take more of this !

Can I please suggest that all you guys (and gurrls) ask this question to the 3 children closest to you, ``Do you want to stay a kid or grow up to be an adult``. My 4 and 1/2 year old daughter gives me a severe reprimand if I happen to miss the 1/2 when I tell people her age.

I`m surprised no one`s put across the opposite view so far. I shall have to bear this painful task it seems.

Where shall I begin ? How about the time you were caught running in the school hall and made to stand outside the principal`s office for half the day. How every passing teacher gave you a look which said , ``YOU - here ?`` and did`nt you just want the earth to open up and swallow you when that girl you had a crush on noticed you there.

How about the times you did`nt do your homework and had to write ``I will do my homework`` a hundred times and (dare I say it) get it signed by the pater.

And how about the PTA meetings when Mom and Dad came to school. Did`nt they just embarass the life out of you. Rohit`s Mom looks so smart with her shoulder length cut hair. Your Mom has this ball of hair that projects at about 60 degrees from the back of her head. She looks positively ancient. And Dad, God - your Dad ! All Dad`s wore bell-bottoms or at least parallels, except you-know-who. He must be the only Dad whose pantaloons look like Bhagwan`s in `Albela`. And did he have to speak so loudly ?! How the heck would you ever get the nerve to propose to Anjana with a Dad like that. Boy, the problems we 10-year olds have !!!

While we`re on Dad, how come when you have a fight with Jeetender across the street, his Dad would always shout at you and your own Dad, your very own blood, would give YOU a slap. Oh! the shame of a public beating !

Lets not forget about strict 10 pm bedtimes, having to eat (completely) whatever was put on the table, having to wear whatever was thought proper (and affordable).

On long train journeys there was the perpetual fear of losing Mom when she went to fill the water canteen at the various railway stations. Then there was the little sister to take care of. The day she got lost (for 2 hours) - dread to even think of that !

And on and on ...



So my fellow chowkwalas, I`m sure you will now agree that you (may) have been seeing childhood through a veil of romance. Sorry to burst your respective bubbles !

A well known Indian philosopher (not the Chopra variety) said that we never know it when we are truly happy. We could be walking down a shaded road, sitting quietly at the bus-stop or reading a book. The moment we ask ``Am I happy ?``, that happiness is gone !

Shivani (or whoever) and Rafay_Alam sahab, you need a 2-week vacation.

Sounds good. Can I join you? Depressing when you realize what the world really is, when it`s lost it`s magic, when beauty dies. However, it is possible that though as adults we may never find that again we can find some beauty by changing ourselves, by altering our preceptions. And, perhaps, we can recapture some of the magic dust and sprinkle in on ourselves and get back in touch with our essence, because I feel in a lot of weys we are closer to our true selves as children than we are as adults and perhaps that is because as adults we have learned to lie...even to ourselves.

This is so beautiful ... you made me cry

thanks for writing this poem

-Yasser Hamdani

Soldotna (re.#19)

Glad someone appreciated the re-produced letter. Even gladder *you * took the time to say so.

rgds,

PM