My Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving. What is it ? Why is the dinner on Thanksgiving day such a big deal here in the U.S ? I’ve asked many people about that and have received varying interesting answers. Here’s a brief analysis of this holiday from my perspective.

History

The fourth Thursday in November, Thanksgiving Day, in the US is celebrated traditionally to give thanks to God for the things one has at the close of the harvest season.

Parallels

US – Thanksgiving : Fourth thursday in November
India – Pongal : Middle of January
Canada – Thanksgiving : Second monday in October
UK – Harvest festival : Full moon day in September
Germany – Erntedank : First sunday of October

A holiday by any other name, still is sweeeet !

Evolution

The modern day Thanksgiving seems to have diverged far from its origins and is usually marked with parades, huge family meals, wall-to-wall american football. The festival has become a commercial event bringing together family and friends for feast and marks the start of the official holiday season in US.

Nonetheless, in the basic principle of thanking God or whoever else they feel most obliged to do so, families do get together even amidst rigorous schedules. And that is probably the important aspect about any holiday – bringing people closer.

My Thanksgiving nostalgia

I was invited to a very informal Thanksgiving dinner by few friends. For my part, i made few delicious Rasagulla for dessert which by the way did not hit it off among everyone here. Sigh. Anyway, the dinner eventhough did not involve any traditional thanking speeches and toasts, still brought a deep nostalgic feeling that claws the heart. And needless to say, i watched a lot of american football games over the past few days even if i still think that it does not match the intensity of a soccer game. But hey, thats just me.

The point of that short ramble is that even a very informal dinner on such an occasion managed to bring back sweet memories into my fragile little mind. These new friends remind me of those old ones and family, so far away in India. And there lies the beauty of a holiday !

The closer the day of my visit to India draws in, the more i feel nostalgic over every simple action. 12 days and counting …

High hopes

“Beyond the horizon of the place we lived when we were young
In a world of magnets and miracles
Our thoughts strayed constantly and without boundary
The ringing of the division bell had begun
Along the long road and on down the causeway
Do they still meet there by the cut
There was a ragged band that followed in our footsteps
Running before time took our dreams away
Leaving the myriad small creatures trying to tie us to the ground
To a life consumed by slow decay

The grass was greener
The light was brighter
With friends surrounded
The nights of wonder

Looking beyond the embers of bridges glowing behind us
To a glimpse of how green it was on the other side
Steps taken forwards but sleepwalking back again
Dragged by the force of some inner tide
At a higher altitude with flag unfurled
We reached the dizzy heights of that dreamed of world

****

Encumbered forever by desire and ambition
There’s a hunger still unsatisfied
Our weary eyes still stray to the horizon
go down this road we’ve been so many times

The grass was greener
The light was brighter
The taste was sweeter
The nights of wonder
With friends surrounded
The dawn mist glowing
The water flowing
The endless river

Forever and ever”

— Floyd

There are so many things that feels absolutely right about this song. This is one of those things that gets me right back on my feet no matter how elated or depressed i feel.

This is something that has touched me so deep,
I cannot escape the inevitability of the meaning of the song.
Why ? You ask. Cant you see the beauty unravelled ?
Doth not need to fly in the sky to decipher
Such simplistic meaning of Life, even in obvious delusion.

Kiwi. Fly. Fly high

I saw this video just now and felt like writing something …

What would you sacrifice to reach that zenith ?
Against imposed rules by dumb fools,
Even with all the worlds tools.

Is there blazing joy at the end of the journey ?
Who sees what the future holds ?
Maybe no one i really know.

Still yielding to that one aspiration,
That could change a life’s meaning,
I tumble and toil to make my final flight.

Kiwi. Fly high, with wings wide,
In few months or years, I shall be by your side;
In eternal bliss of conquering the beyond.

Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

–Dylan Thomas

Beautiful !