Something 'classy' fROM 'THE CLASS ' to 'my CLASS'

The following is a piece from my all time favorite book THE CLASS 1956 by ERICH SEGAL...

reread it today..and couldnt stop posting this here...

its a story of a class in Harvard ....and dis is a page of the diary of one of the students in that class !! may be some one amongst us too have such a diary ...

I have mailed yu the link to download that book.
ANDREW ELIOT'S DIARY
- October 5, 1954
- The occasions that we thousand-odd will meet together as a class in our entire lifetime are extremely rare. We gather three times while we are in college. First at the Freshman Convocation-sober, serious, and boring. Then at the notoriously gross Freshman Smoker- just the opposite. And, finally, after jumping all the necessary hurdles, one June morning four years hence when we'll receive diplomas. Otherwise, we go through Harvard on our own. They say our
most important meeting is a quarter-century after we all graduate. That would be 1983-impossible to think that faraway. They also say that when we come back for our Twenty-fifth Reunion we'll be feeling something vaguely like fraternity and solidarity. But for now, we're much more like the animals on Noah's Ark. I mean, I don't think the lions had too much to chat about with the lambs. Or with the mice. That's just about the way me and my roommates feel about some of the creatures that are on board with us for this four-year voyage. We live in different cabins and sit on different decks.

Just a common soldier

He was getting old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion, telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he had fought in and the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies; they were heroes, every one.

And tho' sometimes, to his neighbors, his tales became a joke,
All his Legion buddies listened, for they knew whereof he spoke.
But we'll hear his tales no longer for old Bill has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer, for a soldier died today.

He will not be mourned by many, just his children and his wife,
For he lived an ordinary and quite uneventful life.
Held a job and raised a family, quietly going his own way,
And the world won't note his passing, though a soldier died today.

When politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell their whole life stories, from the time that they were young,
But the passing of a soldier goes unnoticed and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land
A guy who breaks his promises and cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow who, in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his Country and offers up his life?

A politician's stipend and the style in which he lives
Are sometimes disproportionate to the service that he gives.
While the ordinary soldier, who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal and perhaps, a pension small.

It's so easy to forget them for it was so long ago,
That the old Bills of our Country went to battle, but we know
It was not the politicians, with their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom that our Country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger, with your enemies at hand,
Would you want a politician with his ever-shifting stand?
Or would you prefer a soldier, who has sworn to defend
His home, his kin and Country and would fight until the end?

He was just a common soldier and his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us we may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict, then we find the soldier's part
Is to clean up all the troubles that the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor while he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him homage at the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline in a paper that would say,
Our Country is in mourning, for a soldier died today.

Excess Baggage will Be Charged

All Indians are born with luggage which we are expected to carry with us throughout our lives. The baggage I am talking about is our cultural baggage. Indians especially carry a very huge and heavy bag, more likely an aluminium trunk. Every ‘learned’ person claims that we have to let go of this cultural bag that we carry if we want to ever develop into a great country. Everyone, from a student of a local engineering college to ex Infosys guy Nandan Nilekani, wants Indians to let go of its past. But do we really have to?

Has anyone ever opened the bag they carry around and actually seen what lies in it? Have we ever read our history books, our scriptures and mythologies not to mug up for exams but to examine our past? We must realize that there is a lot to learn from our past. A lot of good things were told that must be done. A lot of mistakes were made from which we must learn so they are not repeated. It was this past that inspired Indians to overthrow our colonial rulers so we could live our lives the way we wanted to.

Have any of these new-age rationalists ever read any of our scriptures? Because those who have read them would attest to the fact that they have a lot to teach in almost every field from music to politics and can be helpful to all kinds of people in almost every situation imaginable.

Isn’t it hypocrisy to speak about something you don’t know about?

Life Cycle of a Wall

I was walking down the street, with nothing much to do, thinking of ways to waste my time. I had about an hour to my next appointment. As I turned around corner, I saw a man staring at me. As I turned around I realized it was not me but the wall he was staring at. I continued walking. ‘But hold on’, I thought, ‘nobody stares at a wall. Maybe he was just window shopping’. I turned to check but it was a solid red brick wall. There were no windows and definitely no shops. ‘Probably a nutcase’, I thought. That was when I got a bright idea. I sat down on the footpath next the wall. The same wall which was being stared down by the other person. I sat there looking intently at the other person. He was around 35 years of age I guessed. He wore a pair of blue jeans. But I realized “Almost all jeans are some shade of blue. We definitely need more descriptors for jeans than just its colour. Especially since the branded ones cost an average of about Rs.1000.” I came to the conclusion that this pair of jeans the person was wearing was the shade of blue found on the seats of the Indian Railway compartments. The ones which are new. The person wore a cream colour shirt. The cream being, in this case, that of a butterscotch ice cream. When I looked op to the persons face I realized the he was looking back. He looked a bit uncomfortable. “Can’t blame him. He has a person sitting on the floor gawking at him studying the colours of his clothes. But hold on! Isn’t India the land of staring? Everyone stares. So why can’t I too?” But I discovered the truth, “You are allowed to stare only at people who look out of the place. This guy was wearing normal clothes and was normal in every sense.” He started tidying himself up though there was nothing wrong with him. He took out his napkin and wiped his face. And after giving me a sharp glance he walked off. “The converse of the Stare Rule has come into play. If you have someone staring at you, it implies that there is something wrong with you.” My eyes were following the person as he walked away. He turned back to look at me and when his eyes met mine, I gave a mischievous smile. He stopped in his tracks and started adjusting himself again. I thought, “Since this guy was staring intently at the wall, there must be something wrong with the wall.” I turned to look but found nothing interesting. It was a brick wall, comparatively new, probably only a year old. The red colour of the bricks was still shining. The wall was enclosing a school. “Maybe he was waiting to pick up his child from school. But wait. Shouldn’t he be waiting at the gate? How can staring at the wall solve anything? Was he a thief? But what can you steal in a school? Chalk!” I smiled at my own joke. “It is funny now but if I tell it to my friends, it becomes a PoorJoke. I think all jokes are lame if taken out of the context.” “Maybe he is going for the computers and things like that. He’s probably the scout and has come to check the place and make the plans. There may be others members in his gang.” But computers are not that costly and have very little resale value especially if it is stolen. “What else can you steal in a school? Maybe it is the fees collection time, there might be money lying around there. But isn’t this a government school. The fees here is quite low and wont add up to anything substantial.” “Is it possible that he was a Pink Floyd fan and was thinking about the meaning of ‘Another brick in the Wall’?” They referred to the wall that surrounded our minds. Bad teachers were just a part of it. And it was a brick wall just like this. And this was quite a big wall. It was more than five metres high. “Maybe the playground is on the other side and the wall was built to stop balls from flying out. Of course there is a bigger probability of it being built to keep the children from flying out, with the high dropout rates in schools.” At that time the school bell rang. I checked my watch to find that I myself had been staring at the wall for about half an hour. A I turned to move, I found another person staring at me and then at the wall. And I thought “The cycle continues”