My sunday isn't complete without the customary cover-to-cover reading of THE HINDU. When I started reading this week's Shashi Tharoor column "Losing our heads to Kipling?" (13 April 2008) (http://www.hindu.com/mag/2008/04/13/stories/2008041350070300.htm) I felt like thanking him for writing about the Kipling's famous poem 'IF'. However my joy didn't last beyond few paragraphs because Shashi went on to chastise our education system for teaching this poem solely on the basis of 'historical context' (Yes, that the subtitle of the last paragraph of his column) of the work.
The cause of my disgust is the Bohemian attitude of the columnist, I guess its not too late to look beyond the politics of the Rudyard Kipling and stop us enjoy and teaching his work for its lyrical beauty. Perhaps I should remind Mr. Tharoor that
the poem is a" great verse" that sometimes unintentionally changes into poetry (TSEliot).
Perhaps I shouldn't blame Shashi Tharoor much, I guess its publication date Sunday 13 !!!
IF.....
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
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