Yesterday I had a phone call from my Uncle Jack and Aunt Liz in Australia. Jack is 91 and had a hip replacement just before Christmas. Despite it being a success, he is disappointed that it won't render him fit enough to return to one of his great loves, bush walking.
He is also a great cricket fan and we talked about the match India had won the day before when they beat Pakistan. Which then took him on a meander about Sikhs he had met and Punjab.
"You know what 'Punjab' means?" he asked. I had to confess not.
"Well it comes from "pan" the word for 5 and "jab" the word for "water" and refers to the 5 rivers in the Punjab region. People usually pronounce it wrongly when they say poonjab, it should be panjab." Blimey, I hope I get to his age and meander so interestingly.
Which today somehow made me think of Rudyard Kipling and the poem If. It turns out he was also named after water, Rudyard Lake in Staffordshire where his parents had canoodled. I had always wondered if he wasn't a secret yogi, given how the poem encapsulates all that I have learnt from yoga and it was no surprise to see this reference in the Wikipedia entry for Rudyard Kipling.
Well-known Indian historian and writer Khushwant Singh wrote in 2001 that he considers Kipling's If— "the essence of the message of The Gita in English".[60] The text Singh refers to is the Bhagavad Gita, an ancient Indian scripture.
Just in case you are not familiar with this poetic slice of Wisdom, here it is. (you can find out lots more stuff at the Kipling Society.
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!
No comments:
Post a Comment