Moments and Memories
Random Thoughts
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
... ... ... ... ...
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
... ... ... ... ...
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
... ... ... ... ...
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
... ... .... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
These are excerpts from Robert Frost's "After Apple Picking", a favourite poem of mine that haunts me, at the fag end of my life. I too, like the apple picker, hear
"The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in."
More than half a century ago, as a teenager in Duthie School boarding, the umpteen opportunities for Bible reading, sitting on the dais, that made the Wardens and the HM Miss Mathews fix me to preside over the massive Sunday school rally of the district, sitting beside Rev. Edward Sam, in the overflowing Home church, winning the feedback for a voice that rang through the crowd...
This was a huge apple plucked.
In the College, as a student, pages and pages of Tamil books I have read aloud in the classes of Rev. Sr. Regina, the number of lengthy dialogues delivered on stage, the awards won for Elocution in two languages, and the leadership roles...
Many an apple happily plucked.
The greatest blessing of 40 years of teaching and learning, the love for literature, the passion for teaching and compering programmes, the energy for activities ever so many, innumerable seminars attended and organised, the e- journal edited, degrees added on, and many more...
Several apples plucked with enthusiasm.
After all these, Why didn't I learn to speak like a Bharathi Baskar, a Parveen Sultana, a Jayanthashri or any of those empowered women who speak so fluently, so brilliantly, staying within the track and never wasting a word?
I could have. Why didn't I? ... Is it because I was born a little earlier?
Are they the apples of illusion -
"Magnified apples (that) appear and disappear"?
Still, I had "the great harvest I myself desired", and as my principle is, now I must sleep, contented with the apples plucked amidst storms and tempests and during adverse weather. I shouldn't see the unplucked apples, for if I see, they will look magnified.
Moments are many for memory to cherish, & Gratitude and Humility are what I need, to thank the parents for the light of knowledge, and thank the College for the values of life.
In Sr.Emilie, I saw the power of smile.
When Sr. Casilda repeated one day in class: "There's some good in the worst of us, some bad in the best of us and it behooves none of us to cast stones at the rest of us", I realized the gravity of the sin of maligning or slandering others. When I heard Sr. Scholastica speak about taking responsibility for all your words and all your thoughts, I understood a great lesson of life. When a Resource Person spoke about the importance of 100% joy in the family and the need for you to take a share of that 100% with your partner, even if it is a major share, I started taking a lot more control over my negative emotions. For positive thoughts and positive emotions, I had many Sisters, friends and colleagues to support me.
Precious moments spread an aroma- the aroma of ripe apples - and the fragrance will linger on.
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