Category Archives: Articles

A few more – from Suresh Sethi

COVID-19

Krishna,

I know you love to show off your magical powers—

To bring massive upheavals on this earth:

And then justify them with your old excuse—

‘ I have to reduce the burden of Mother Earth’.

 

Hence the great war of Mahabharata;

Followed by countless, wars, floods and famines—

And now Covid-19,

Your latest arrow from your armory of Maya.

( to add insult to injury you admit you could have prevented all of them)!

 

I admit and acknowledge:

 That you are the Big Boss of the Cosmos—

And you are legally allowed to do anything you want to do:

But please for a change—

Can’t you send us the virus of: love, peace & happiness—

I mean just for a change?  


Lullaby

 

Beloved, day has come to an end—

celestial fire gone over the city fence.

Now the night comes a timely reprieve

for a daily panic:

finicky like the street traffic.

 

Set down your limbs for solace

and seek a kiss of grace

Say with a faithful chant: for a lonely want—

a confessional prayer

and go over with reverential fear.

 

Beloved, for a few hours let all doubts subside

and seek shelter in the dark.

Gently go over to sleep;

never mind to-night:

for tomorrow’s chronic rise.


 

            From my diary, November, 1979

 

Winterline

obscures likes wingtips

in the acataleptic shade.

Stars

coruscate like a tooth in the dark.

Pines

are silent in the accrescent cricket wails;

as wind

goes rustling through their blind eyes.

Chill

feeling my bones fuses sleep.

My mouth

is stale with nicotine.

Eyelids

flicker hesitantly like

much discussed ideas half-explained.

Legs

wobble and long for sleep.

 

                                    Poem

 

Already the swollen crevices of the heart

flood the pores of veins;

and memory with her illusive taunts

throws fear’s goblet stains.

 

Outside, winter creeps on soft soles.

The men go about their ways.

Only an occasional exuberance of wind

tells the parting of summer days.

 

Soon the moon will be a copper coin

sky heavily painted with blood;

and my reverberations like ill-begotten sons

shall tear my bed loose.

 

On the last ride when siren’s wail

shall sear through the traffic lights,

and I flutter alone within cold walls;

beloved, please be by my side.

 

 

 

 

               O God!

 

Some times:

let me suck at your breasts

for succor like a child.

 

Some times:

let me sleep in your lap,

my head resting with assurance on your strong thighs.

 

Some times:

with your vast wisdom

wean out my thread of life

from the entanglements of this world.

 

Some times:

show me the way out

from the confusions of dead ends.

 

Some times:

stop this incessant ticking

of the metronome of my head.

 

Some times:

lift me lovingly like a grandfather

who never asks any questions.


 Obituary

Brilliant like the sun at noon,

and reporting like the nervous telephone;

the latest OCA News lies on my desk

with corporate graphs, minutes, tasks

of winter ahead. And embroidered here

on the last page of the year,

‘Lala’, your obituary is cut

out and zeroed like a bomber’s target.

The little extra I know about you is

accidental, the rest between stodgy covers

like any reference stands

an index for the groping hands.

In a two minutes silence

(mutely staring at my buttons)

I pay an official condolence:

You, who were one of us.


                                                                   

Take me….by Himār Arjun Singh

A small poem – just some random thoughts on a late evening – my ode to the beautiful mountains of Himachal.
Take me….
By Himār Arjun Singh
OC 95 | Curzon | Roll No. 291
Economist & Head, Public Policy at Bharti Enterprises
Take me….

Take me to the mountains for I am burdened since long with the pleasures and sufferings of life searching for truth and reality….
The years that have gone by smile back and mock at me for imagining no end of myself in a charade full of deception and ecstasy….
Take me…
Take me to the mountains; the towering heights of which may remind me those forgotten lesson of compassion, kindness and serenity….
Did I live a worthy life is not for me to judge, the judgment of the same is now beyond the realm of my fading individuality….
Take me…

Take me to the mountains in the form of ashes and dust for that’s where I begun and that’s where I would like to finally rest silently…

MY TIME AT BCS – David Wood-Robinson 1940/4

I and my brother Mark were among the batch of boys from England who came out to India after the fall of France in WW2 and spent most of the war years at BCS. My other younger brother Colin started at the prep school and later moved up to BCS. I started in the Headmaster’s House and later moved to Aicheson (?) House near the school gate but I do not remember which school house I was in.. I have lots of wonderful memories, most of them naughty, like climbing over the barbed wire fence to raid bhuttas from the fields below the school. We roasted them in the school boiler. We made strings for our kites by crushing bottles in tin cans and gluing the powder onto the kite strings with flour paste so that they would cut the strings of other kites.. We also made catapults from tyre rubber and tried to shoot flying “sqiggies”, never successively! But I was also given a love for classical music by seeing Disney’s “Fantasia” at the cinema near the Mall and got some good Cambridge School Certificate results which later enabled me to become a Naval Architect but I became a Christian at Glasgow university and later spent many years in Japan trying to tell the folk there about God’s love.

David Wood-Robinson 1940/4

Batch of ‘04 – from Raghav Kumar

Hi Folks,

Hope you doing well!

This would be my 1st mail to you. It’s been 16 years since my batch and I, have passed out of school and life has taken us to various places.

My batch created a small whatsapp  group, so that we can all be in touch. This year has been hard for most of us. Some of my friends lost their jobs, while others were sitting at home getting low pay or no pay.

Since, most of my batchmates were undergoing stress, Amos (Ibbetson), Parmeet (Curzon) and I, took an initiative of asking my schoolmates about their best memories at school and how life been after school.

We were lucky enough to get some responses, I am assertive that we would get more responses of my batchmates and uplift their confidence.

I thought of sharing some clips of them, for people who chose to send their clips.
I hope that you would like the glimpse of these nostalgic videos.

Raghav Kumar
Lefroy House
Batch of 2004
Bishop Cotton School
The videos should appear below, but if these do not then you can use the Links :

Video_1 Video_2 Video Video_3