Where Has It All Gone?

There are some books you grow too old for. And then, there are books that you are never too old for. I unabashedly enjoy reading and re-reading L M Montgomery's classic, no not Anne of Green Gables, but Emily of New Moon. Dont get me wrong, I was/am a devoted fan of the entire Anne of Green Gables series and practically devoured all 5 books. But Emily of New Moon has a special place. I still remember exactly when I finished reading it - St Catz library, Oxford, an afternoon in November 2003, in my 20s! - I shut the book, traipsed down the spiral staircase, literally skipping here and there and promising myself that I shall be like Emily in terms of retaining my childish passion for life for ever and ever. Old promises have a way of coming back and biting you. Where has it all gone?

It all reminded me of the Old English poem, The Wanderer, that my Olde English professor made us memorize. My memory does not do justice to the entire peom, but i remember the most poignant which I have 'Ctrl+C, Ctrl +V' ed.

	Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago? Where is the horse gone? Where the rider?
	Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa?	Where the giver of treasure?
	Hwær cwom symbla gesetu?	Where are the seats at the feast?
	Hwær sindon seledreamas?	Where are the revels in the hall?
	Eala beorht bune!	Alas for the bright cup!
	Eala byrnwiga!	Alas for the mailed warrior!
	Eala þeodnes þrym!	Alas for the splendour of the prince!
	Hu seo þrag gewat,	How that time has passed away,
	genap under nihthelm,	dark under the cover of night,
	swa heo no wære.	as if it had never been!

Old Wrongs

How do you you right old wrongs? There havent been many, fortunately. But the few gnaw, bit by bit, inch by inch, at your peace of mind. They linger and fester. Mock at you. They shant be silenced till you have the courage to go back and right the wrong. Even if the other person(s) has moved on and can scarce remember what you are talking about.

I am feeling reckless today. One of my biggest and oldest wrongs was when I refused to walk to the medical shop to fetch my sister pain killers when she was in agony. This was when I was in 6th grade. They say children can be cruel. But I was no child. It cannot be explained away. I still am frightened about my capacity then to be cruel. I have never apologized to my sister. But I have, ever since, tried to never let my sister down. But an apology is long overdue. I am sorry.

Hank Paulson

spoke at Burden Auditorium an hour ago. The ex Secretary of the Treasury of USA spoke about leadership, ethics and his decisions during the global meltdown. He also spoke about his most important skill he picked up at HBS ( he was class of 79 if I remember correctly, and was from my section!)  was the ability to convince and influence people through oral communication. Which isnt very different from what I thought would be the most important skill I need to learn before I am out of here.

Who Reads the Papers

I needed a dose of humor over the weekend, and who else do i turn to but Yes, Minister, in my opinion, the finest jewel of British comedy. Saw the episode where MP Jim Hacker tells about who reads the papers as below -

Hacker: Don't tell me about the press. I know exactly who reads the papers: the Daily Mirror is read by people who think they run the country; The Guardian is read by people who think they ought to run the country; The Times is read by people who actually do run the country; the Daily Mail is read by the wives of the people who run the country; the Financial Times is read by people who own the country; The Morning Star is read by people who think the country ought to be run by another country; and The Daily Telegraph is read by people who think it is.

Sir Humphrey: Prime Minister, what about the people who read The Sun?
Bernard: Sun readers don't care who runs the country, as long as she's got big t@*s