Letter from a Father to his son's teacher

This is the letter believed to be written by Abraham Lincoln to the head master of his son's school.Historians disagree to the fact that he actually had written such a letter to anybody.Whether Lincoln wrote or not does not matter.The true essence of education has been exemplified in this wonderful short writing.

He will have to learn, I know,
that all men are not just,
all men are not true.
But teach him also that
for every scoundrel there is a hero;
that for every selfish Politician,
there is a dedicated leader…
Teach him for every enemy there is a friend,

Steer him away from envy,
if you can,
teach him the secret of
quiet laughter.

Let him learn early that
the bullies are the easiest to lick…
Teach him, if you can,
the wonder of books…
But also give him quiet time
to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky,
bees in the sun,
and the flowers on a green hillside.

In the school teach him
it is far honourable to fail
than to cheat…
Teach him to have faith
in his own ideas,
even if everyone tells him
they are wrong…
Teach him to be gentle
with gentle people,
and tough with the tough.

Try to give my son
the strength not to follow the crowd
when everyone is getting on the band wagon…
Teach him to listen to all men…
but teach him also to filter
all he hears on a screen of truth,
and take only the good
that comes through.

Teach him if you can,
how to laugh when he is sad…
Teach him there is no shame in tears,
Teach him to scoff at cynics
and to beware of too much sweetness…
Teach him to sell his brawn
and brain to the highest bidders
but never to put a price-tag
on his heart and soul.

Teach him to close his ears
to a howling mob
and to stand and fight
if he thinks he’s right.
Treat him gently,
but do not cuddle him,
because only the test
of fire makes fine steel.

Let him have the courage
to be impatient…
let him have the patience to be brave.
Teach him always
to have sublime faith in himself,
because then he will have
sublime faith in mankind.

This is a big order,
but see what you can do…
He is such a fine little fellow,
my son!

~ Abraham Lincoln

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The Letter from "The Bet"

 I have many times thought why some people read a lot.As a matter of fact while pondering over this thought I remembered a short story taught to us in my school.The story was ingeniously written by Anton Chekhov who was a master story teller.In his short story "The Bet" he has subtly delivered the answer to my question.

The story begins with a bet between a banker and a lawyer on a dark autumn evening.The Banker had hosted a party and a discussion over the morality of capital punishment and life-long imprisonment had led to the so called bet between the banker and his lawyer friend. The lawyer had accepted for solitary confinement for 15 years for a stake of two million by the banker.But the banker had to provide everything the lawyer demanded during his confinement.

And what did the lawyer ever demand...? Yes..it was books,books and books...Now it upto you to read the story... I have just posted the letter that the banker found on the table of the lawyer on the eve of the completion of his term of fifteen years...

The letter from the lawyer to the banker.

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"To-morrow at twelve o'clock I regain my freedom and the right to associate with other men, but before I leave this room and see the sunshine, I think it necessary to say a few words to you. With a clear conscience I tell you, as before God, who beholds me, that I despise freedom and life and health, and all that in your books is called the good things of the world.

"For fifteen years I have been intently studying earthly life. It is true I have not seen the earth nor men, but in your books I have drunk fragrant wine, I have sung songs, I have hunted stags and wild boars in the forests, have loved women. . . . Beauties as ethereal as clouds, created by the magic of your poets and geniuses, have visited me at night, and have whispered in my ears wonderful tales that have set my brain in a whirl. In your books I have climbed to the peaks of Elburz and Mont Blanc, and from there I have seen the sun rise and have watched it at evening flood the sky, the ocean, and the mountain-tops with gold and crimson. I have watched from there the lightning flashing over my head and cleaving the storm-clouds. I have seen green forests, fields, rivers, lakes, towns. I have heard the singing of the sirens, and the strains of the shepherds' pipes; I have touched the wings of comely devils who flew down to converse with me of God. . . . In your books I have flung myself into the bottomless pit, performed miracles, slain, burned towns, preached new religions, conquered whole kingdoms. . . .

"Your books have given me wisdom. All that the unresting thought of man has created in the ages is compressed into a small compass in my brain. I know that I am wiser than all of you.

"And I despise your books, I despise wisdom and the blessings of this world. It is all worthless, fleeting, illusory, and deceptive, like a mirage. You may be proud, wise, and fine, but death will wipe you off the face of the earth as though you were no more than mice burrowing under the floor, and your posterity, your history, your immortal geniuses will burn or freeze together with the earthly globe.

"You have lost your reason and taken the wrong path. You have taken lies for truth, and hideousness for beauty. You would marvel if, owing to strange events of some sorts, frogs and lizards suddenly grew on apple and orange trees instead of fruit, or if roses began to smell like a sweating horse; so I marvel at you who exchange heaven for earth. I don't want to understand you.

"To prove to you in action how I despise all that you live by, I renounce the two millions of which I once dreamed as of paradise and which now I despise. To deprive myself of the right to the money I shall go out from here five hours before the time fixed, and so break the compact. . . ."

(The Bet-Anton Chekhov)

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Monsoon

The first drops of rain...

Nostalgia embraces me...

The melodious sound of raindrops falling near my window as I sit there and gaze at the hills shying like a  newly wed bride hiding under the veil of ..The gentle breeze of air...the fresh aroma of the earth...the lush greenery everywhere that follows it..Nothing rejuvenates more than the rains particularly after a long spell of maddening heat..

India has always believed in the harmonious relation between man and forces of nature and the importance of each season has been beautifully brought into light by the great poet Kalidasa in Ritu Samhaara, a poem written by him. It can be called the "Medley of Seasons" or "Garland of Seasons". The Ritusamharam has been divided into six main chapters, each chapter describing vividly, the seasons of India. The six seasons that have been described by Kalidasa are Summer, Spring, Monsoons, Autumn, Frost and Winters. This poem is much shorter when compared with his other works. Ritusamharam Kalidasa is delightful read and a short summary is given below.

Each of these seasons is described as a pair of lovers who experience changes in their relation like the changing seasons of India. The poem starts with the description of summer. The dry weather and the extreme heat conditions make the lands extremely parched. Everyone yearns for a few drops of rain to soak the soil. But even in this time of extreme heat, one gets joy through mangoes and the cool moonlit nights. Then come the much-awaited monsoons and the whole of India gets drenched and clean in the fresh monsoon rains. Everything looks spic and span and not a speck of dust is seen anywhere. The black clouds and the rumbling thunder add to the magic of the monsoons.

Then comes the season of autumn where people look forward to celebrating festivals and spread cheer and joy. Though the weather remains pleasant, the afternoons can be hot and it is almost like a second summer. However, the weather changes and one can feel the nip in the air. This is when the frost season arrives. The sudden nip in the air, the chilly winds in the morning and nights and the biting cold all signify the season of frost. Then comes the more severe form of frost in the form of winter season. The temperatures drop really low and people are seen wearing layers of clothes. However, he severity of winters is not as much as in Western countries. It only snows in the hilly regions and the south of India hardly experiences any winters.

After winters, the weather starts to warm a bit and then comes spring season. This season is popular for the harvest festivals that take place and one can see blooming flowers all around. Thus, the variety of seasons in India is used to signify the changes that take place in the minds of lovers and how they change. Every change has some good and some bad effects, but in totality it is a pleasant feeling.

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