Inspired from Guess what???
Ashes from Ages
I am ‘The Hall’. I can hear a polite, almost apprehensive voice, tentatively questioning “Egotist?” and another squeaky thin ignorant voice asking “Egoist, miss-spelt?” I have passed the stage where I have to reply to these mundane queries. My history speaks for itself. Yes, I am the hall of Howard.
The freshman year here is only one of its kind. The chief warden of the hostel works out a real complex equation and puts the most brilliant Physicist with a funky modern arts student. Interestingly, they become the best of friends for life.
Year 1925:
Freshman day is carefully chosen. It is usually a bright sunny summer day when the exuberant youth dare to match the radiance of the sun. I play host to the most exotic among the human species. All the first years are present and it is the most important day of their young lives. The huge windows let in streams of golden sunlight, which warms the souls and envelops them into the vortex of its brilliance. The first years cast a cautious look over their shoulders wondering who among them will be the next president, Nobel laureate, the most acclaimed musician and after all a Howard graduate can’t be anything but a success. A few shrugs and shivers pass through their spine as they wait with baited breath as Sir Powell walks up the red carpet to address the gathering.
I am interested in the first row of students – Dani Rossi, oddly proportioned fellow, short and sparsely built but with the broadest of shoulders and long musical fingers was ready to set the stage on fire with his piano. Tom Clark wore the same blazers as his counterparts but he hunched his shoulders and hid his face with a large matching hat – On closer observation his blazers had a clever patchwork on it. Sara Caravan has brilliant blue eyes, keen and observant. Tom and Sara between them had mastered Latin and Greek literature –“The incredible duo”. Andrew Eliot was the only one in hall who was unsure. He had a House in Howard named after his ancestors. He was here not because he was Andrew but because he was an ‘Eliot’.
Sir Powell gave a speech that enthralled and captivated the brilliant minds and the papers lauded his effort and commented that it was the best speech that he had given.
25th reunion:
As the years flew and turned into decades, I weathered the cold and heat alike and I still stand tall and proud. The reunion day is also selected with great care. The mathematician strikes a delicate balance to see that year doesn’t come too early or too late and it is always on a misty winter morning.
Stylishly cut suits, expensive rain gear, baldheaded and aged drooping shoulders, walking sticks fill the ground outside my door. They lined up for one last time. The tall windows let in the fine mist and the gloomy lull. The whistling breeze drowned the hushed whispers and incoherent murmurs. They looked over their shoulders apprehensively and were shocked to see a few vacant spaces -Spaces, which were once filled by dynamic young men and women.
Dani Rossi the most successful musician of the batch lifted his hand in flourish to pay a musical tribute to those who were not amongst them and a mild tremor passed through his hands. His tired mind acknowledged the fact that he would not be able to play anymore. He had a rare neurological disease. Tom and Sara stood as far apart as they could. They were both strong contenders for taking over as the Head of the History department. Tom Clark stood tall and he wore the most expensive suit . Sara’s blue eyes were clouded and dull. All the three of them found themselves in the book of honor. There was a surprise inclusion in it. Andrew Eliot did not stand among them. He had an exclusive place on the podium. His name was the first on the honor list and next to it his achievements were highlighted. He made the single largest donation to the Howard welfare fund. He shuffled uneasily… Eliot was the successful one on stage and Andrew was still lost within Eliot.
Sir Powell’s framed photo occupied the center stage and his last words echoed-“Look up high to see only the light,
And never look down to see your shadow
This is a wisdom that man must learn”.
As tears flow from the eyes of grown men, the curious freshmen peep discreetly through the dark windows and move away in bewilderment , shrugging and I stand there just as before listening and watching.
Padmapriya.S
I am ‘The Hall’. I can hear a polite, almost apprehensive voice, tentatively questioning “Egotist?” and another squeaky thin ignorant voice asking “Egoist, miss-spelt?” I have passed the stage where I have to reply to these mundane queries. My history speaks for itself. Yes, I am the hall of Howard.
The freshman year here is only one of its kind. The chief warden of the hostel works out a real complex equation and puts the most brilliant Physicist with a funky modern arts student. Interestingly, they become the best of friends for life.
Year 1925:
Freshman day is carefully chosen. It is usually a bright sunny summer day when the exuberant youth dare to match the radiance of the sun. I play host to the most exotic among the human species. All the first years are present and it is the most important day of their young lives. The huge windows let in streams of golden sunlight, which warms the souls and envelops them into the vortex of its brilliance. The first years cast a cautious look over their shoulders wondering who among them will be the next president, Nobel laureate, the most acclaimed musician and after all a Howard graduate can’t be anything but a success. A few shrugs and shivers pass through their spine as they wait with baited breath as Sir Powell walks up the red carpet to address the gathering.
I am interested in the first row of students – Dani Rossi, oddly proportioned fellow, short and sparsely built but with the broadest of shoulders and long musical fingers was ready to set the stage on fire with his piano. Tom Clark wore the same blazers as his counterparts but he hunched his shoulders and hid his face with a large matching hat – On closer observation his blazers had a clever patchwork on it. Sara Caravan has brilliant blue eyes, keen and observant. Tom and Sara between them had mastered Latin and Greek literature –“The incredible duo”. Andrew Eliot was the only one in hall who was unsure. He had a House in Howard named after his ancestors. He was here not because he was Andrew but because he was an ‘Eliot’.
Sir Powell gave a speech that enthralled and captivated the brilliant minds and the papers lauded his effort and commented that it was the best speech that he had given.
25th reunion:
As the years flew and turned into decades, I weathered the cold and heat alike and I still stand tall and proud. The reunion day is also selected with great care. The mathematician strikes a delicate balance to see that year doesn’t come too early or too late and it is always on a misty winter morning.
Stylishly cut suits, expensive rain gear, baldheaded and aged drooping shoulders, walking sticks fill the ground outside my door. They lined up for one last time. The tall windows let in the fine mist and the gloomy lull. The whistling breeze drowned the hushed whispers and incoherent murmurs. They looked over their shoulders apprehensively and were shocked to see a few vacant spaces -Spaces, which were once filled by dynamic young men and women.
Dani Rossi the most successful musician of the batch lifted his hand in flourish to pay a musical tribute to those who were not amongst them and a mild tremor passed through his hands. His tired mind acknowledged the fact that he would not be able to play anymore. He had a rare neurological disease. Tom and Sara stood as far apart as they could. They were both strong contenders for taking over as the Head of the History department. Tom Clark stood tall and he wore the most expensive suit . Sara’s blue eyes were clouded and dull. All the three of them found themselves in the book of honor. There was a surprise inclusion in it. Andrew Eliot did not stand among them. He had an exclusive place on the podium. His name was the first on the honor list and next to it his achievements were highlighted. He made the single largest donation to the Howard welfare fund. He shuffled uneasily… Eliot was the successful one on stage and Andrew was still lost within Eliot.
Sir Powell’s framed photo occupied the center stage and his last words echoed-“Look up high to see only the light,
And never look down to see your shadow
This is a wisdom that man must learn”.
As tears flow from the eyes of grown men, the curious freshmen peep discreetly through the dark windows and move away in bewilderment , shrugging and I stand there just as before listening and watching.
Padmapriya.S
posted by dippydiv at 10:12 PM
1 Comments:
Hmm. Who's PadmaPriya?
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