Anchored Aspirations

"...and while there may not be a book in every one of us, there is so often a damned good short story" - Jeffrey Archer.

Picture Courtesy: Saptarshi Chakrabarti

It is in the nature of a kite to strain for freedom. As the wind flies into its harnessed face, a string cuts across the breast of the sky and brings to a nought the labours of the kite in freeing itself from all impediments. Gaze long and far at the distant object in the sky competing only with high-flying birds until you have a crick in your neck. Only those of us who have had the privilege of kite-flying in our youth know the ethereal pleasure that is to be had in feeling the struggle of a kite at the other end of a kite string.

Welcome to a short story. It is short, because it is not I who play the principal character in the plot, so I cannot provide the reader with the finer elements of the story the way an experienced novelist would. It is a story of a million human beings, with whom I share common DNA, identical social environs, and a lot more. It might, in all probability, be your story.

 Departure
Picture Courtesy: Author

The tale commences on an auspicious morning in a middle class neighbourhood in my city, and it happens to be the day of Durga Ashtami. It might as well have begun on any other day, but I look to invoke the blessings of Maa Durga upon our protagonist, now just a small child, who is standing among a throng of people waiting for the basket containing flowers for anjali to reach them. Fold your hands and pray, the mother whispers. The child looks confused. A few minutes later as the mother takes the heat from a fiercely burning piece of camphor placed upon the wide copper spoon of the priest, she places her palm upon her child's head and offers a silent prayer to the Almighty. What a mother might be praying for to Maa Durga to bless her child with is up to the judicious interpretation and vivid imagination of the reader.

As the child grows up, our protagonist begins to gather some knowledge of the world around. Folding your hands and bowing your head in prayer is not sufficient to achieve all that is out there to be attained, the teenager now concludes. The society is quick to impress upon the young adult all that is expected out of a responsible young citizen. Hence it is not long before our protagonist has been rolled forged and machined into a shape that my society would deem to be a perfect fit within the jigsaw puzzle of civilized existence. While this shape is one most of us are pretty well acquainted with, the bits and pieces of the teen-aged soul that were pruned away in order for it to fit the jigsaw are swept into the trash can by the municipal sweeper the next morning.

Picture Courtesy: ©yordphotos

And in the midst of this chaos and confusion, a small family somewhere in my vast city celebrates the birth of a child who is made of a somewhat different mould. A chef who prepares the same dish every day at a restaurant cannot say with certainty that his every fare tastes exactly the same, even though they all undergo the same treatment upon the stove. This uncertainty, on a lucky few occasions, creates a brilliant dish far beyond the travails of his everyday fares. This child, even after going through motions very similar to what all others go through, turns out different, like that unique and exquisite dish the chef produced by sheer accident. But this child is not the subject of our narrative today.

Recall our protagonist once again, dear reader. Now a proud parent in a family of four, this respectable citizen of our society can now boast of an enviable academic and professional record, approbation in the eyes of fellow citizens, a loving spouse, and two beautiful children who win hearts of all those they come across. If social norms are anything to go by, 'successful' is an expression that might define the state of our protagonist perfectly. Even though I was not privy to the silent conversation that occurred between a mother and the Almighty many years ago on the day of Durga Ashtami, I have a hunch that Maa Durga must have fulfilled a lot of the lady's prayers.

Picture Courtesy: Saptarshi Chakrabarti

That is where we part ways with our protagonist. As our story reaches its abrupt conclusion, I implore a question upon the readers. A society is a reflection of the people who inhabit it, and it would be gross injustice to smear entire humankind with black paint. "In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart" : these magnificent words by Anne Frank give rise to profound faith in humanity within me. Every human soul is a conglomerate of customs, traditions, principles and scruples. The society and the culture that has brought me up to twenty-one fine years of survival is the one I owe all my soul to. I have been taught how to put up a jolly good fight when need be, and I have also been shown the manner of gracious retreat when the situation demands. The best of me and the worst of me are all embedded in the bedrock of my surroundings. The foundation of my character lies within the by-lanes of this society, and if I were to absent the entire presence of this pervading influence on every day of my life, my character and my principles would die a premature death. And speaking of character, what is a man without one but a hollow mess of confusion and instability?

But then the demon shows its head. There are thorns of middle-class shackles which unnecessarily and unjustly bind our aspirations and dreams, and most of them have got deep roots in the psychology our society has brought up to be so used to with. Surely no one needs recounting of instances where passions were killed, careers busted, and talents smothered without a second thought on the pretext of abiding by grossly misinterpreted social guidelines. Sociology defines a society as a group of people who identify with one another, but when mass generalization on a large scale leads to stifling of individualism in humans, a powerful and glorious social tool is being used for the worst of purposes.

So dream like there is no waking up, breathe like there is no tomorrow, strain at every rope which binds you with the last drop of your strength! But before you do so, it is prudent to go through a spot of self analysis. The world runs by tried and tested rules and regulations, and disobedience for the sake of contrariness serves no purpose. But the moment someone with a huge pair of scissors approaches threateningly to clip away your wings, put up a fight like there is nothing to lose.

A kite-flyer knows the pleasure of feeling the tug of a kite string in his hand. The flyer also knows the subtle technique of releasing the string few feet at a time as the wind carries the contraption to celestial heights. Pull hard, exhorts the wind to the kite. The kite pulls hard and in turn grows in grandeur. But, Irony, how cruel is your blow! The moment a rival kite's knife-sharp string jags across the harness of the defeated one, it is the wind itself which carries away the torn bird. Without the restraining influence of the string, the kite is soon reduced to a torn piece of paper dangling from an electric pole, its magnificence and glory lost to the sky.

Go fly a kite.

The Malaise of Lethargy

"We were not sent into this world to enjoy the loveliness therein, nor to sit us down in passive ease; no, we were sent here for action." - Dorothea Dix, 19th century American social activist.

Last October, the first time in eight months, my blog skipped it's regular monthly post.

On the brink of completing one year as a blogger, when I pause and look back, this period has brought about a profound effect on me as an individual, a student, a writer, and Homo sapiens in general. Apart from helping a scattered mind gather itself and coordinating my hugely incohesive thoughts into somewhat framed structures, a big lesson was the practice of setting myself goals every month and working to pin them down. To the expert procrastinator that I am, this setting of goals (and achieving them) is a hugely difficult task.

I just missed one of my goals last month, thanks to a monster named Lethargy.

Lethargy leads, within the blink of an eye, to depression

Life of a college student is without doubt a busy affair. I have my regular studies to take care of, do my share of household chores, mind the important business of hanging out with friends, pursue my other umpteen out-of-the-curriculum activities, write lab reports, meet Professors, read and re-read books, and I could go on for a day. Busy life, right! Last month when a friend of mine inquired about my blog, or rather the absence of it, pat came my reply. I told her how pressed for time I was and how my daily schedule was resembling that of Hillary Clinton, crisscrossing the length and breadth of America in her campaign trails. Codswallop. My excuse was about as credible as Donald Trump paying a courtesy fundraising visit to a Syrian refugee camp. What my literary friend eventually summarized for me as "writer's block", was identified by me accurately and ironically as an acute case of the malady called Lethargy. The destroyer of youth, the wrecker of potential, the executioner of talent at the guillotine of indolence, on a mass scale.

If the human brain is fertile land, the world around us is a provider of vibrant seeds aplenty, waiting for appropriate nurturing to bring them to full bloom. Perched on the apex of the divine creation pyramid, we are separated from our lowly primitive ancestors of the animal kingdom by the wish and will to contribute to the world in ways other than only to eat excrete and procreate. Being lucky enough to spend most of my time in company of astute and gifted brains at college and elsewhere, I can observe in people around me the potential to take the world by storm. But it is in converting this potential to actual results that a spanner is placed in the works. The exotic ingredients for an exquisite platter are all available in copious amounts, but there is no one to stoke the flame.

O Lethargy, what a disease you are! Merriam-Webster defines it as "the quality or state of being lazy, sluggish, or indifferent", which doesn't half describe the malady it is. Lethargy now is such a big disease among the youth that you will hardly find anything unaffected by it's spread. From turning upside down the daily routine to adversely affecting examination grades, the reach is ginormous. The disease is contagious as well, as a lot of people residing in uninspiring company know to their own cost. Lethargy is that state when one just cannot be bothered enough to do anything - pertaining to use of either the brain or the body. To maintain status quo is Heaven to the lethargic. Absentmindedly surfing through TV channels or perfunctorily making one's way through News Feed on social media - a large portion of the time wasted due to lethargy owes itself to the electronic means available to us nowadays.

Every day when I wake up in the morning, with the first splash of cold water over my face which removes traces of sleepiness from the mind, a tug-of-war begins. You have that article to finish you've been planning on for two weeks now, and you also need to sit down with the syllabus of the upcoming mid-semesters because it really is quite vast this time around: one part of the cranium tries to nudge me into action. But before the action is actually carried out, there is another thought which pops up on the mental notification window - six new messages on WhatsApp bearing some completely useless information, and there is that new video from such-and-such YouTube channel who make vaguely amusing parodies and sketches. And oh, do I see a long break in between classes at college today? That calls for redundant loitering around and perusal of useless activities, and to hell with the new design concept I wanted to consult that Professor about! Who wins the battle in the brain, I suppose, is as clear as the Yamuna waters to all and sundry.

Source: Elon Musk: The world's Raddest Man

In the meantime, one gets those spasms of inspiration. A finely crafted film, an arousing lecture from a visionary Professor or even a fine piece of music, is capable of generating the sudden will and energy to break the ubiquitous barriers of lethargy. Reading about Elon Musk makes me want to do space research, listening to Michel Petrucciani on the piano makes me a jazz addict for days, and hearing a galvanized Professor enlighten us on some amazing scientific discovery gives me the creeps. These thrills, unfortunately, are ephemeral in nature like the life of a mayfly, and just like the reel of a film, they come to an end.

So how are we actually affected by the symptoms of lethargy? During these days of youth, the human brain is working at it's highest efficiency and when utilized to it's optimum, is capable of producing much useful and productive results. In the atmosphere of mediocrity we live in, being average is sufficient, so not many take the pain to excel. Were any sociologist to do some research on this, I'm sure we would find quite a substantial loss occurring to the nation's GDP each year, thanks to under-utilization of talent and skill of the young minds. (Those who do utilize, eventually seek greener pastures abroad.) The brightest of the lot have fallen prey to inertia, and waste what God had gifted them with. "Every body continues to remain in it's state of rest...........unless acted upon by an external unbalanced force" - Sir Isaac Newton finds applicability everywhere.

Speaking of inspiration...

So it's time to locate the external unbalanced force! Set your alarm clock, keep away the mobile phone, have a breath of fresh morning air and look out - there lies inspiration in every corner of the street and in every person down the road. The sweet water at the bottom of a well is waiting to quench the thirst of anyone who cares to drink it, but you need a rope long enough. The universe outside is waiting for you.

Dedicated partly to all my sleeping friends whom I am desperate to awaken, and partly to my own self, who is in considerable need of awakening himself.

College Cogitations

Time, as they say, does fly.

Do you remember the New Year's Eves you celebrated as a child? For a young me, the 31st night was different from the other festivities of the year. As a ritual, as the clock reached midnight I used to devote some time contemplating upon the year gone by. Friends made, books read, birthdays celebrated, holidays enjoyed, and other such innocent enjoyable tidbits from the last twelve months would crowd my mind. This practice of introspection is something I still carry out every New Year's Eve. With the passing of the years and suppression of free spirits, the reflections I encounter now are of quite a different kind, but what hasn't changed a fraction is the childlike astonishment I still derive upon discovering the simple fact, that yet another year has passed. How could it possibly end so quickly!

More than two years back when I was on the brink of starting college, someone had given me a pretty sound piece of advice. Your college changes your life completely, he had said, but for the better or for the worse is a decision up to you. So neatly and concisely put, I appreciate now. Two years and some more into college, during this critical time of the year when yet another fresh batch of students await what lies beyond those coveted doors of admission, a little contemplation and advice seems due. Things are definitely going to differ depending on people and circumstances, but the general sentiments, I hope, will not be overly contrary to anyone's.

Half of my undergraduate days have passed and it seems that I am on a permanent roller-coaster which has no intention of pausing. You learn and you experience, you progress through the motions at breakneck pace, you are thrown up in the air and then you have the bitterest of falls, only to be thrown up again. You are living as if on a persistent and continuous high where your mind is, if nothing else, active. This frenzied state of activity, it is to be noted, is not at all occurring on an academic plane only, and that is where things get so absurdly interesting. School education was a cushioned fortification, the protected andarmahal of palatial residence. The big city outside the palace is a jungle where wolves hunt alone and in packs. Welcome to college, the prep-school for the big transition from secured interiors to an insecure exterior, where girls and boys become women and men.

"You are primarily a student, and whatever other activity you may wish to pursue should come after that", thus spake the concerned parent, solicitous relative and the rest of our well-wishers galore when college started. Overburdened by well-meaning guidance, blissfully incorrect preconceived notions and a few mountain-loads of expectations, we step in through the gates. I would merely be wasting words if I tried to explain how entirely inaccurate I had been in my earlier conceptions about college, and how amazingly novel everything was around me when I stepped in. Savour your freshmen year like anything, our college seniors used to tell us, for nothing else is quite like it later on. To make mistakes and be perfectly acceptable in doing the same, to be a "junior" again after a long long time and have no precursory baggage to carry with it, to look up with awe at hallowed portals you had dreamed of entering and at long last you have obtained the keys to do so: those days were a chance to revisit the simplicity of boyhood but with a formed mind.

And then, as is the norm, life happens. When the initial reverence is broken, the vagaries of college life come to the fore. The law of averages has this irritating habit of catching up. Outstanding professors are balanced by rotten ones; the best of friends are counteracted by the worst of them. Also, the mind gears up for life beyond college, which is one heck of a decision to make. It is then that the true worth of you and your institution is exposed. When the initial glamour is diminished and a rhythm has been established, how are things spanning out?

A riot of confusions

Education takes a new turn and undergoes a complete makeover. Whichever discipline you may be pursuing, the rate at which new things are learned and applied is phenomenal. To a Learner, the ocean of knowledge is at his beckoning. But since in today's day and age the Learners are an endangered species encountered only in Rajkumar Hirani films, let us address the needs of the more practical minded, for whom there are grades. Oh grades, what a conundrum you are... The simplest solution would be to get the best grades and be done with it. But for those of you who appreciate the minor snags in this approach, certain misgivings may prevail! Banal and clichéd though it may sound, the grades are not the end itself, but the means to quite a different end, vast in size and more enduring in nature. They provide a depiction of the potential of a student, but a depiction only. But at the same time, the sculpture may be susceptible to slight errors in the hands of the maker in certain cases, but never should it be assumed that a model fashioned out of a well-bred German Shepherd would be made to look like a malnourished street dog. In simpler jargon, grades are very important, but there is life beyond them.

For a lot of people, college is the first time in twelve years that you are among a large group of unknown people and you are about to form a lasting bond with a lot of them. I remember standing in my admission queues, looking around, and wondering who among these strange faces around me are going to become my brothers-in-arms, my associates, my companions, my confidantes. These friendships last more, I had been advised by another senior, in comparison to your school mates. Maybe such generalizations should not be made, but the fact remains that your compatriots from college have met and known you as an adult, and despite each having all the convolutions and complexities of an adult mind, you have gelled along. In other words, you know each other in all your imperfections before you strike a chord. In contrast, I suppose most people are acquainted with the very awkward feeling when childhood friends from school met after a long time turn out to be entirely different people as adults, and old memories (and long silences) become uncomfortable.


Through the inconceivable highs and the gut-wrenching lows that life provides abundantly, your college mates are the people you celebrate and lament with. These times do not simply remain as echos in some sentimental corner of your heart; they fashion and construct your character. That a person is known by the company he keeps is a very old adage, and never is it more appropriate than now. Distractions are not the rarest of occurrences in the life of a young adult, and more often than not they are brought to the fore by a companion. Dabbling with politics and dreams of changing the world crop up. It is perfectly reasonable to dream - where would we be without them - but contact with reality should not be for a second forsaken. Every successful human has undergone this journey of sweeping aside distractions, training the lens on the object of focus, but all the same occasionally stopping by the wayside to pick up a shiny pebble or two.

Jonathan Livingston Seagull

"So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu..." As every month ends, we turn the pages of our calendar. Very soon, sooner than I shall ever anticipate, will come a New Year's Eve when I shall pause and think of my journey through college, and how it ended so abruptly. I shall be soaking in the last bits of sunshine before twilight takes over. Bathing in those slanting rays of the dying sun, I shall be bidding adieu to four years of intense pleasure, testing trials and a collage of unforgettable memories. Imagine a huge maze, which upon entering takes you four years to cross. If I am lucky enough, I'll conquer it in time. I'll look back at the young boy who entered the maze, then at my own reflection upon leaving, and note the difference. But for the moment, I'm stuck right in the middle, fighting and progressing inches at a time, with friends and family at my side, hugely enjoying every moment of it. Let me enjoy the maze while it lasts.

"Not all those who wander are lost" : J.R.R. Tolkien.

Musings of an Engineer

In the 21st century, expectation has a synonym in duty.

Being an engineering student, in a little over two years time from now, I will be expected to have gained sufficient knowledge and enough skill in this profession the wise men named engineering, to carry forward a tradition more than five-and-half thousand years old, when the wheel-and-axle was invented in Bronze Age Eurasia. Have a look at the earliest image of a wheeled cart, excavated in Poland, and then at the smartphone in your hand. The weight of the heritage, for sure, is not a light one to bear.

How would our world be without these?

Adam and Eve were the finest creations of God. What separates their descendants from the 8 million other species of co-inhabitants is a superior brain and a will to modify our environs in a manner most suitable for us. Microeconomic theory assumes that human psychology compels man to strive for the circumstances and situations among various restrictions which provide maximum utility or satisfaction to him. In layman's language, I would rather use a plough rather than dig up my field with bare hands, given that I do not own a tractor. It was easy enough to break a branch off a tree, but the difficulty lay in sharpening its point, attaching a metal tip and building a device that throws the arrow with sufficient speed to maim the deer it was aimed at. Thus started the trade of engineers: Modifying the environs to obtain maximum utility.

The developers of the earliest wheel, and then in the course of time the potter's wheel, the iron tools and other similar items, hugely important though they were in terms of contribution, cannot be called engineers by today's definition, for back then trade was based on the principle of trial-and-error. As science was yet to develop, the practice lacked the strong foundation which physics and maths were to give it later on. Still, that does not in any way take away the skills and contributions of those ancient engineers who without any firm scientific knowledge had perfected their skill and passed them on through generations. Post the Industrial Revolution in Europe and the emergence of USA as a world power, engineering was here to stay. Nevertheless, as in any emerging field, at that point educated and qualified engineers were still rarities and were treated with lots of respect.

How NOT to misuse a boon of Science.

And look how it all has changed! The 19th and 20th centuries came up with two brilliant inventions which were to change for ever the way life is lived on the planet. We got electricity, and we got the computer. The paradigm shift caused by each was to alter human wants on a fantastic scale, and the onus was on the engineers to provide for the increased demands. Science provided the solid bedrock for engineers and the newest playthings available in an engineer's nursery seemed intent on breaking every restriction there had ever been on human satisfaction. And in some cases, human stupidity.

"Science is about knowing; engineering is about doing", said American author Henry Petroski. As of today, engineers happen to be ruling the roost. One comes across endless inane social media jokes trolling engineers, but one of the more accurate ones described a postman asking a shopkeeper where the house of the local engineer was, and eliciting the reply "Kisi bhi ghar me ghus jaao, yahan to saare engineer hi hai...". Jests apart, engineers are to be found at a dime a dozen these days. Growth in number of colleges across the length and breadth of the country which purportedly teach engineering is akin to that of shopping malls. In some of them, the quality of engineers produced should be placed under consideration.

As always, centres of absolute excellence have come up and are thriving. They absorb the finest brains of the country and develop them into skilled professionals. These institutes are cause for pride, and not of concern.

An error of judgement.

What should be worrying us instead, is the army of not-so-skilled engineers who are also populating the market. Whether it be lack of brains, poor undergraduate education or lack of discipline and honesty, these wannabes (for want of a better term), are not quite bringing to the table what his or her profession demands. What it results in is dilution of the skill of an entire workforce. A very ironic and saddening comment in this regard comes to mind, coming from one of the best professors I have had the opportunity to learn from. With absolutely no disrespect to the medical community, it was sometime last year that he had made this observation in class. When an unskilled surgeon makes one incorrect incision during an operation, one patient dies. When an unqualified engineer makes one error of judgement while designing a flyover, scores of people die underneath. Little did any of us guess that at that moment somewhere in the city such a fatal design was on its way to construction, acceptance and eventual devastation on an overwhelming scale.

Why do we all want to become engineers? A brief survey tells me that the recurrent justifications are a secure future, an assured job (?), an appeal for a technical branch of education, and promise of a (comparatively) easy student life. Some students did maybe make a bit of a sacrifice in letting go of subjects where they had a bit more interest, but not all such cases are as heart wrenching as Farhan Qureshi's... A matter of deciding in favour of the greater good for the future. In my case, it was a combination of all, but primarily an inclination towards applied sciences instead of theory. How far these expectations are realized is a separate topic for debate, but maybe in some cases, there were other reasons for this choice of career, that it was the only option available to pursue, and all the friends were doing it.....

In harmony.

It is not I but far wiser men who have stated that distinctions between subjects do not exist in reality; only in our perceptions of it do we have them. CV Raman, a distinguished pianist himself, said that Science is the highest form of Creative Art. Software is a great combination between artistry and engineering, according to Bill Gates. Indeed, the greatest engineering marvels of the world are known more for their artistic and cultural value. Art cannot sustain itself without engineering assistance, while a fine creation of an engineer is dry without art. The traditional feud between science and engineering is meaningless as well, for without either the other would fail to exist, even in the most rudimentary form. But, considering the manner in which we perceive things, subtlety is maybe not the most prominent quality! Science. Commerce. Engineering. Humanities. The walls that separate them in our minds are as prominent as the full-stops between the words...

An engineering marvel, and an artist's dream.

It is early days for me, and I have no idea yet as to how good or how bad an engineer I will become. Marks do reflect some of your capabilities, but not a lot. Which is a good thing and a bad thing, considering how marks-dependent our evaluation system is. Even the admission criterion at most engineering colleges is solely dependent on how much less of brain-freeze you are suffering from during three hours of an entrance exam! So instead of harping on how tough it is to survive today as I did in a previous blog, it would rather be of more benefit if I returned to the perusal of the syllabus of my upcoming semester. The next two years would see me graduating along with a flock of fellow engineers, each trying to outsmart the other. Those among us whom the education system and the industry would be deeming suitable for this ancient trade, would continue along the well trodden path and lead the contented life of an engineer. And those of us who will be rejected at the industry's sieve would be forced to look at other shores for sustenance, greener or otherwise!

 

"One man's magic is another man's engineering. Supernatural is a null word": Robert Heinlein.

Growing Up

"Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself." Kahlil Gibran in The Prophet.

God is perfect, they say, and so are his creations. Every object of nature is perfect in itself; pure and not interfered with. Through humans, God passes along the purest of the pure, the most sacred of his creations: the human child. Upon this newborn, from the moment it sees the light of the world through the gifted hands of the hospital surgeon or the rural midwife, a process of tampering starts. Tampering God's own creation with the elements of the human world, which entails the process of getting the child prepared to spend a lifetime in a tough place. Preparation never ends, and we 'learn' till we have exhausted our last breath, but a majority of life's lessons are imbibed in the formative years of childhood. A long, slow but steady process, where every day is a new lesson in life, every step the next milestone crossed, in the journey called Growing Up.

Hello there! Welcome to the world.

Human memory is a strange device. It picks and chooses arbitrarily at little occurrences and incidents which have no role to play in the larger scheme of things and keeps them stored, while major parts of the process of growing up is deleted from the mind of the growing child itself. My first ever memory inexplicably involves stepping into the balcony with my brother at the apartment we used to stay in when I was two-and-half years old. The next three years is like a film roll with a lot of parts damaged: an occasional birthday, a day at nursery school, a visit to grandparents and maybe memories of a scolding or two from my mother. Yet this is the period of frantic brain development. A UNICEF report says: "Brain development occurs shortly after conception and progresses at a very rapid pace in the first few years of life, where neurons form new connections at the astounding rate of 700-1000 per second." Read the full report here, which throws light on the fascinating object that a child's brain is. In this context, I remember going to a close family friend's five-year-old son's birthday bash, and wondering how much of this extravagance the child is going to remember by the time he is an adult...

Albert Einstein believed in keeping the child within him alive.

Through the infant days to getting into school, teenage, adolescence and finally adulthood, the conditioning of the brain is a continuous process, while the sole motive remains to gain the required skill sets needed to lead a comfortable life as contented as possible. The interpretation of 'comfortable' changes as the decade pass - what my grandfather would have called comfortable in his young days would no doubt be a rather spartan existence for me - but I'm sure that both of us would be on the same page concerning the bumps and potholes along the road to adolescence and young adulthood. The nature of the challenges change but the challenges themselves remain.

A report in The Hindu on heavy Indian schoolbags.

Confrontations are umpteen and rise in number with every passing day. The first burden upon a child is that moronic system that we call Education which seeks to suffocate a child in every way possible. I myself have escaped suffocation by the skin of my teeth. The civilized world runs according to some rules, and coming to terms with some of them takes a lot of struggle as well. For me, learning to welcome self-invited guests with a smiling face and to hell with how irritated you are to have them was one such lesson. To a teenager, issues like social acceptance and likeability are so very important, and upon which topic this blog by Tim Urban on the Wait But Why website is one of the best I've ever read. Even if I ignore adult problems like family issues, financial burden and the million other factors which in fact affect the child of the family as well, a kid has a lot of things on his plate.

What is it that defines growing up? Is it that span when one makes mistakes and the mistakes are accepted? Is it distinguished by an innocent outlook of the world where initially everything is in black-and-white, and then slowly all turn to grey? Kailash Satyarthi puts it very nicely: "Childhood means simplicity. Look at the world through the child's eye - it is very beautiful." A child's world is indeed beautiful, but therein lies the counter argument: If I, an adult, am longing for the simplicity of youth in my surroundings, then am I not hiding my face in the sand and not facing the world as it is in stark reality? Taking this stream of logic further, if we identify the inability to recognize and react to the society's realities as they are as a sign of immaturity, then are maturity and simplicity of thought counter-concurrent? These are questions I do not really know the answer to. But maybe a solution lies in raising the collective consciousness of the entire people so that contrived and superficial existence is no longer necessary and a child's world may be the reality... Wishful thinking.

Saviour of so many: Kailash Satyarthi

I am completely at peace with the life God has bestowed upon me, and I spend every moment trying to live the day more fruitfully than the day before. But the echo of my childhood which still remains in a secluded corner of the soul calls me everyday and shouts out how much simpler life was when I was young. People realize the importance of having nice teeth only when they are sitting on the dentist's chair, just as do young people ignore the premonitions of elders that the youth is precious beyond all else and should be spent wisely. "In youth we learn, in age we understand.", said Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach, Austrian novelist, and what a big pity that is. So let us at least make an effort, immature and raw though we are in our days of youth, to live life to its optimum in these few years left before the world squeezes out the last ounce of life from our souls!

Can this joy ever be paralleled?

If you are in a hurry to grow up, you miss all the fun.

Politics and Education

Aristotle

Indians, by nature, are political. The science of politics is in our blood, and the art of manipulation of human free thinking is a skill humans at large have perfected over the ages. And its not I alone who says this; "Man is by nature a political animal" is what Aristotle said back around near 350 BC. Might I modify this and say, The Indian man (and also the woman) is, by nature, a political animal. Charity begins at home, they say, and for a young budding Indian mind developing into maturity, home is where the brain develops. So it is of no great surprise that our educational institutions, the nursery of fresh young minds, should have a very substantial role to play in the nation's political scheme of things.

If you had asked Lord George Curzon (Viceroy of India, 1899 to 1905) or Sir John Simon (Chairman of the Simon Commission of 1927) about how Indian students played a substantial role in the Indian freedom struggle, they would have been able to give you a picturesque account. These gentlemen had been at the epicentre of two major political protests of the early 20th century: The Partition of Bengal protests and the "Simon Go Back" movement. In both instances, it had been the student community which had jumped in with abandon into the troubled waters of politics.

These are only two instances. Preceding these, and succeeding them as well, many political events in our glorious history have acknowledged a tremendous role played by the students. India has across the ages produced generations of very bright and hard-working students. Though the privileged went to England for higher education, quite a number of education centres came up in India with a reputation of producing the finest brains of the country. Lahore, Allahabad, Calcutta, Madras and Bombay boasted of the finest Universities back in the 19th century.

The Simon Go Back Movement of 1927

A proper education system for young Indians was devised for the first time by the British themselves. In this regard, important it is to note that when Thomas Babington Macaulay, Council Member, delivered his Minute on Indian Education in February 1835 to William Bentinck, Governer-General of British India, proposing the introduction of English education among Indians, he had merely wanted to create an assortment of clerks and officers (babus) out of the native Indians who would have a mere proficiency in English to be able to assist their colonial masters in their machinations in this land. Later on, it was this English Education Act 1835 itself which would come back to haunt them, for this had opened the doors of scientific and political vision among the youth, who would ultimately be a driving force behind the ouster of the British. The ancient age-old Indian philosophies when combined with knowledge of Western rationalism and free-thinking, changed the way Indians thought. To read more about Macaulay's Minute, the Act, and his supremely egotistical and idiotic remark about Indian literature, read this article.

Coming back to focus on Calcutta, a host of colleges provided the society with the brilliant minds nurtured to provide not only political and economic but social upliftment as well. This tradition then carried on after independence, Calcutta turned into Kolkata, but all these centres are thriving along right upto when this blog is being written.These institutions are all distinguished enough and need no introduction, but for the sake of records, a few of these are the Presidency College (now University), Scottish Church (alma mater of the immortalized Animesh Mitra of Kalbela fame), Bethune and Lady Brabourne (for urban girls from all communities), St. Xavier's College (one of the first Catholic institutions of the city, founded in 1860), the famed Medical College (their first batch of medical practitioners graduated in 1838), and of course, Jadavpur University, where the spirit of revolution lives on, and which yours truly can proudly proclaim to be a humble student of.

"The foundation of every state is in the education of its youth", said Diogenes the Greek philosopher. So why is it that the young and the educated have always been attracted into the unsafe waters of politics? This question can never be answered by looking at the state of Indian politics today. I won't really go into the redundant discussions and deliberations on how far our political system has degenerated and why at present it is a muck-pool; we have heard it all too often. But the aspect to deliberate upon is that if this has been the state of affairs for quite some time, then what is it that has been drawing the drawing the best minds of the country to politics, and sometimes, to extremist politics? Not the muck, for sure.

Youth is that infinite whirlpool of energy which provides the world with all that is positive. The brighter the mind, the firmer the body, the deeper are the reserves of this vital energy. And if energy it is, it has to be spent. The earnest call to serve mankind is a bugle which has been blowing constantly over the ages. It is a clarion call rendered from the chasms of human suffering, which calls on fellow human beings to lessen the extent of misery. Pointedly enough, very few people have the ears to catch this cry. Even more pointedly, time and again it is only the youth of the nation who have registered these calls and responded.

Pre-independence, it was the deplorable condition of the average countryman and how the colonial masters were systematically destroying a nation that stirred young men and women into action. You might have been a Gandhian or maybe a Netaji follower, you may be Right wing or you may be having extreme-Left ideologies, but it does not really matter, when the goal is the same and the soul is uncorrupted. As the century progressed, the catalysts changed. India was a fledgling democracy, and the need was felt to ensure that democratic rights are fully made use of. This drew more students and young professionals into politics who wanted to carry on the good work their predecessors might have done. Then came the 70's, and with it the disenchanted ultra-Left wings, who no longer trusted the democratic pillars of the country. With suffering comes the urge to rectify the sufferings of thousands, so those who had suffered much and were gifted with fine brains started going the extremist way. Extremism can never be a solution for any evil, whatever it may be, but that is a topic for another blog. It suffices to note that the Naxalite leaders had mostly, without exception, been young men. Read this Indian Express report about an IIT-KGP dropout who eventually became a top Maoist leader.

V for Vendetta

Partycracy found its way into the system post this period. People were inspired by party symbols or individuals who they thought had what it took to deliver the country to greater heights. College student unions flourished, and politics penetrated daily life. Some were disenchanted by the dirt which gradually started encompassing politics, while others stayed on to serve their affiliations. At some point of time, the muck became so immense that it was no longer capable of attracting young minds into mainstream politics. This was the start of that period when an average young boy of eighteen joining college was being instructed by his concerned parents: Akdom 'politics'-e jorabi na kintu. Those fine brains, which had been able to channelize their energies in proper ways earlier, could not do so any more. But that could not really discourage us, could it! Today we are proud to belong to a free thinking intelligent politically-conscious generation who do not need a party banner to express, spread or cultivate ideas among the masses, and work for their betterment. This, my friends, is the politics of tomorrow.

As citizens of the society we live in, it is our duty and our right to give back to the society whatever we have gained from it, and we do not need the banner of a political party to do that. So if that is the need of the day, then change we must the political definitions prevalent today, and device new ways to progressively channelize that "infinite whirlpool". We are a union with 350 million 'youth', which is about the entire of Japan, Germany, UK and Italy put together, and you might throw in a Singapore or two as well. It is time to throw off the shackles of conventional politics. Grab the weed from its roots and drag it out of the soil. Break barriers, create new definitions. Strain the brains, set the sinews on fire. "Ring out the old, ring in the new". Young India, lets rock.

Swami Vivekananda

"Arise, awake, and stop not till the goal is reached."