The day ended on a sour note. I was at school. The school that I had retired from a few months back had called me back when my successor had to leave without notice for his own valid reasons. I was filling a vacuum, in short. I could sense something alien from the moment I stepped into the school. I felt like an unwanted guest. You shouldn’t return to a place from where you retired and got a grand farewell. Was that the feeling in the air? I think so. You should never return to your own vacuum. Retirement is like death. The farewell is the funeral. You shouldn’t challenge death. Least of all, your funeral. Last life’s words belong to last life’s language, if I may paraphrase T S Eliot. You need to invent the words for your new life that’s a potential threat to many who were trying to create a new lingo that has no word for you in its lexicon. You shouldn’t return to certain places ever. The classrooms weren’t as bad, however. The students are ready to try you out. Old wine can be
Cerebrate and Celebrate