A Clown Looks Back
I wrote the above poem when I was young and clownish. More than 30 years ago. I possessed an undue share of immaturity and vanity. And silliness. Egomania. Eager to impress, quick to speak, slow to listen, possessing the confidence that only ignorance could produce. So much so, the college where I taught for a brief period arranged a Catholic missionary to deliver a lecture (sermon, if you prefer) on the Seven Deadly Sins to me. When you see all the vehicles coming against you, you realise that you’re on the wrong road. That realisation made me chuck the lecturer’s job and leave the place altogether. That realisation made me quite another person. Without all those ego hangups. I was reminded of those days again yesterday when the news of a death reached me. The deceased was one of the many who assisted me copiously in my self-realisation. Obviously, a lot of others rushed to my memory all of a sudden. Some memories have this peculiarity: they keep returning though you don’t...
