Skip to main content

St Cross Cemetery

I was at Borders couple of nights ago. I caught sight of W H Auden’s Dyer’s Hand. His self-edited lectures, talks and criticisms – mostly delivered in Oxford when he was the Oxford Professor of Poetry.

Reading one of the essays, standing in Borders, with the smell of new books, and the faint whispers of conversations, I was no longer there. I was walking on the icy bridge over the Cherwell, by the St Cross Cemetery and finding my way to the wooden bench below the solitary crabapple tree that groaned with the weight of death’s tragedies among the graves. I heard its groan many an evening in my sojourn in that City of Dreaming Spires.

While dons cycled past home for dinners, and students scuttled to reading rooms, I sometimes, read gravestones. They hold many tales. They also hold peace that cannot be found in life.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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.
3 comments
Read more

A Thoughtprovoking Discussion

In our LEAD class, we were made to read a bunch of 10 year and 20 year memoirs of the HBS Class of 1976. The ensuing discussion in class was thought provoking. We went on to desribe our personal take on 'what is success'. It was an almost touching experience to hear how my very accomplished classmates measure success. And let me tell you it wasn't just coming to HBS or getting awards.  One said his immigrant grandfather taught him that true success can be measured by how many people attend your funeral. Because when you die, people don't owe you anything, except for respect. Another said, success cannot be achieved if you pursue success. Instead if you pursue happiness, success will follow.  Yet another said that maybe success is not just about yourself and is actually about striving for the success of others. I wont go into mine, because I think anybody who reads my older posts can pretty much get a sense of it. In fact, someone had written my thoughts better than I h...
1 comment
Read more