When I Was Sixteen — A Letter about Silly Poetry, Love and My Idiot Friends
Dear Jane,
When I was around 16, we moved to a city I was already fond of. I spent the next two years in an all-boys college where the clock stretched from 8 AM till 7 PM.
What would one do during such tough times?
Silly poetry, of course, with verses spun around dramatic love and decorated in metaphors that are as overused as old socks with pores!
And the irony, Jane? Not a fraction of it was inspired by personal enchantment.
I joined a league of four hapless souls at college, each with their own romantic escapades.
One became a well-wisher while his beloved fluttered away with another soul.
The second was in an all rosy phase of a blossoming courtship. Now happily married, though not to that same sweetheart.
Then there was the third, with a fresh tale every morning, sparked by chance encounters at bus stops.
And the fourth? Well, let’s spare him for now.
And then there was me penning down poetry and immortalizing their romantic adventures.
A few months ago, one of them unearthed a decade-old scrap of paper covered in my scribblings. “Tear it off please”, I begged. He kept it safely in a trunk box to probably embarrass me again after another decade. Idiot!
So, what dredged up these memories, you ask? This poetry collection, with a beautiful cover. And John Keats.
As I recently turned to his verses, time started to go back until it took me to my four fools and their romantic follies.
My stance on this universal affliction has evolved, but I cannot deny the beauty in its expression.
Let me read out a few verses of John..
Fill for me a brimming bowl,
And let me in it drown my soul:
But put therin some drug, designed
To banish Woman from my mind.
…
For ever shall she be
The Halo of my Memory.
That’s John Keats for you.
And if you were wondering why I have been calling my close friends idiots, they once snatched a poem which had changed hands until it reached our floor warden.
The next morning, I was on the receiving end from the college Vice Principal.
When I shared what all my ears had to endure, one of my friends casually said, “We could have dealt with it but you should have smacked him on his face for what he said”
“Quite right”, I remember nodding.
And before I sign off allow me to present the box that contains some of those precious absurd poems.
But no, Jane, you shall never lay eyes upon them!
Best wishes,
Your friend from the 21st century
To
Jane Eyre,
1810
Thornfield Hall
England
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