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.

In Sotto Voce

"One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain." - Bob Marley.

If an alien from Mars descended on the roof of your residence tonight and inquired of you to explain to it this strange earthly phenomenon called music, which is totally unknown to its home planet, how would you answer? It would be exceedingly difficult, because the moment we are binding ourselves to the spoken word while trying to enlighten someone to music, we are attempting a futile exercise, which is akin to taking a blind man to an exhibition of exquisite oil paintings by Italian masters. Easier, therefore, would be to play the alien some music, and then call NASA.


Where words fail, music speaks, said Hans Anderson. There are 4500 languages in the world that are spoken by at least a 1000 people or more, and most of us do not understand more than three or four of them. The musical idiom is as diverse, if not more, but the difference lies in the universal embrace of every human into the realm of music. You may be an absolute layman with zero musical training, or you may be a performer at the Berlin Philharmonic; the depth of understanding of the art form surely differs, but  the Deity of music is equally welcoming into her world to all those who knock at Her gates...

The hills are alive with the Sound of Music.

When was I introduced to music? Some fond recollections bring forth three early memories: an album of nursery rhymes by Preeti Sagar which used to play in our old cassette player now defunct, the humming of Robindroshongit by my mother on Sunday mornings, and The Sound of Music, one of my first ever films. Today when I relive the movie, I am enchanted by the sheer beauty of the story and the depth of emotions portrayed, but back then it was simply the sight of Julie Andrews - running down the green Austrian countryside with the seven children at her side, singing with gaiety and abandon, in simple tunes, about her most favourite things - and how beautiful it was! I felt as happy as little Gretl von Trapp.

From LP's....

Childhood memories fade away as you grow up, and Preeti Sagar now probably lies at the back of some cupboard. Our generation is a lucky one to have passed their teens and adolescence through the period when the internet was fast becoming a household thing. As a result, through our advancing years and changing tastes, we were constantly able to utilize the internet to keep our tastes updated and ears buds satiated. Imagine a generation or two back, and the contrast is glaring. From LP gramophone records to bluetooth headsets via stereos, cassette players and Walkmans, the evolution of music playing devices itself speaks a volume about the change in the music scenario.

....to stereophonic devices.

Amidst the confusion of Growing Up when every kind of music was jostling for space in the playlists, western classical music came and stood softly beside me. The fickle minded child in me took quite some time to adjust to this new, apparently complicated, and tough brand of music. There was no way I could really get the hang of things quickly and everything was seeming vague and pointless! Maybe it was an indication of deep roots spreading well below the soil, but once the plant bloomed it was there to stay. It really does not take rocket science to decipher why classical music is not as popular among the masses as most other forms of music are, for it is pure and unblended. Anything refined is difficult to master, requiring perseverance and patience above the ordinary.

Johann Sebastian Bach, Baroque master.

More than half-a-millennium ago during the Renaissance days, when civilization in Europe was emerging from the Middle Ages, the classical form of music started being written. Back home in India, the origins are traced back to the Samaveda which is said to have been written so that the verses of the Rigveda could be sung in the form of hymns. With progress of the centuries these forms evolved further. Indian classical was classified into Hindustani and Carnatic, with further categorization into Gharanas. Western classical, on the other hand, progressed through period-ages, starting with post-Renaissance Baroque, moving on to Classical, Romantic, and eventually Twentieth Century music.

Popularity speaks for itself, one might argue. In any part of the world, contemporary popular music is ruling the charts, while only those trained in the subject may be able to appreciate classical music. Music is after all for the heart, and no composer should expect his or her audience to consist of only the musically proficient and erudite. To them, I would iterate that behind any genuine musician performing in any genre under the sun, there is a profound influence of classical training, in some form or the other. Examples in this regard are numerous. Coming from the land of Tagore, we need to appreciate that a large number of the Bard's songs have been influenced by classical music, of both the Orient and the Occident, which ranged from Irish and Scottish tunes to Carnatic music from the South of India. For someone interested, this is an absolutely wonderful blog post I ran into while Googling for some information in this regard. The point thus remains that if one is patient enough to build a firm grasp over the forefather of all musical forms, diversification into other genres comes naturally.

Zubin Mehta conducting the Bavarian State Orchestra at Srinagar.

To conclude, I wonder, how well off are we Indians in this sphere? Not very. It goes without saying that we all enjoy music, more so the young generation. Maybe it is an enjoyable pastime, or maybe as a style statement it serves good purpose; interpretation is up to the listener. Having said that, how easy is it for an average Indian young adult pursuing music with heart and soul, genuinely talented in the field, but lacking contacts at proper places, to get a break into the tough music industry? The platter being served before the audience is delicious, but the way through the kitchen is grueling. You may put the blame onto the Great Indian Mentality (read fearful parents and discouraging society), or on the way our entertainment and music industry flourishes on nepotism, or on the sheer lack of opportunities for a talent to flourish: the reality remains that scores of talented youth with a passion for music are being forced away from music into some profession grossly unsuitable and depressing. If a nation's economy is in the doldrums, one or two good governments can rectify the problem. But if the psychology of an entire people needs uplifting, it takes generations for the change to come.

Being an ordinary pursuer of music, I am happy to let music remain as a source of satisfaction and stability in my life, like the thousands of other youth devoting their life and time to other fields but harbouring profound love for music. At the same time, the thought of the pool of musical talent available in my country which is not being tapped, fills me with despondency. This post is dedicated to all the men and women out there with music in their hearts and and melody in their souls, who solely for the want of opportunities could not bring their true potential to materialize....

"If opportunity doesn't knock, build a door." - Milton Berle, American comedian.

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.

Where Has My City Gone

Every now and then the film fraternity of Kolkata throws up a film or two which are fresh, new, and not in the contour of the usual masala films. One such film which took the common urban denizen by pleasant surprise was Anindya Chatterjee's "Open Tee Bioscope", released last year. Everybody who saw it liked the film, but the class of people who were most touched by the histrionics of Phoara and Co. go by these identities: Men, 25 to 45 years, middle class, brought up in central or north Kolkata. I had an acquaintance falling within this category, and I asked him, what was it that touched you most in the film? His reply was not too cogent, but maybe I had got my answer. People are touched when they see on the screen things which they miss sorely, from their hearts. The city that was portrayed in the film is no more; it has suffered an unnoticed, gradual, imperceptible but steady demise.

When children are bereaved of their grandparents at a young age, they miss them badly. Leaving aside the enjoyment, frolic and affection these loving old people can be a source of, the grandparents are among those people a kid sees since birth: they are among the very first memories. So to lose them is to lose a part of one's youth. I have been born and brought up in Kolkata's suburbs, in an environment that is 21st century to boot, so I know very little of the city that that lived before me. But these occasional glimpses we still get of the city that used to be, maybe through directors like Chatterjee or through visits to deep interiors of central Kolkata where the "age" still lives on, leave me wondering if the place we have evolved the City of Joy into has left us missing the woods for the trees.

It is in the habit of old people to mourn about the "good-ole-days-gone-by", but I'm not geriatric. The Kolkata of the 80's and 90's was one big mess of pot-holed roads, an incorrigible transport system, a-strike-a-day kind of work culture and a god-awful electricity supply system. We are all better off than that, thank goodness. But I simply urge you to think beyond the material aspect. Sure, amenities have improved, which are in any case bound to improve over long time spans, but what have we lost? Anyone who has seen Ritesh Batra's 2013 masterpiece "The Lunchbox" surely remembers the ubiquitous character of "Auntie". "Auntie" was a neighbour of the female protagonist Ila, and the two chatted with each other round the clock through the kitchen windows. Their conversation was inconsequential to say the least. Throughout the film we get to know quite a lot about Auntie but her character remains faceless till the end. My city has lost these little characters, and along with them the feeling of kinship with the universe.

And with the universe it was. Calcutta accepted with open arms anyone who came to her shores. Dominique Lapierre felt this kinship, so did Mother Teresa. Usha Uthup and Shah Rukh Khan probably feel it too! From football teams to cuisine, we have no dearth of rivalries in our city, but all are taken in good spirit. Politics divides us in our ideologies but unites us in the common act of politician-bashing at any instance. A city of mind-boggling diversity, yet the same blood in everyone's vein: that was Kolkata.

Where has this city gone? One no longer finds genuine warmth from common people on the streets anymore. A busy life in a competitive world takes its toll for sure, but even when I was young Kolkata was definitely more friendly and cooperative. People now are always angry at something or someone, and are simply craving to let off that pent up frustration at the slightest instance. Moreover, the core of our societies have become decayed due to infiltration by anti-social elements with local political clout. Our streets are safe no longer, so we cannot really blame the concerned parent for thinking twice before letting her son step out into the roads for an evening game of cricket.

We are a "multi" generation living in multi-storieds and visiting multiplexes. Much as I enjoy my Inox experience, I miss the feeling of para nowadays. Opentee had brought it all back: the clamour of cycles rushing through bylanes, the familiar winter mela, the hum of Robindroshongit through a half-open window, and para-football. What with children busy with books and Facebook, parents busy throughout the day, and domestic helps ruling the roost, one can hardly expect genuine social interaction. To conclude, I remember what a kid once told me upon being promoted to the hallowed academic portals of the 6th standard: "I hardly get time to go out to play with my friends in the evenings nowadays, the pressure of academics is too much." I wish the boy, now probably in his 11th, the best of luck.

To those who grew up in a city that was a different place to be in, cherish your memories of an identity that is now changed for ever. To those who never even saw the city of old, here is to hoping for a better future for all of us!

I really miss those days I have never even lived in.

Rat Race

"The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat." - Lily Tomlin, American actress.

The race is on.

Towards the end of the 18th century, when France was going through the troubled days of the Revolution (1789-99) and Tipu Sultan was fighting the English tooth and nail in Mysore, the population of the world stood at slightly above 1 billion. When the World War I started in 1914, we had multiplied to just under 2 billion. 5 billion was reached in 1987, and today we a proud race of 7.3 billion. (Source: United Nations Census Bureau). The growth rate is tremendous, and to surmise, there are a lot of people out there.

Welcome to an overcrowded planet. Feeding the mouths of 7 billion plus is no mean job. The earth and her resources are all limited, and we can only go so far with advanced technologies and new ways of producing food. Add to that the bottomless ocean of human wants and needs, and it is assured that existence is not for granted. We are back to the Stone Age days when every human needed to fight and forage for food every single day; only that we are fighting other human beings now, and not deer bison and mammoths. "Competition" is the word of the day, and we are all a part of it, without exception.

A small matter of a train journey.

The very comical visual just after the opening credits of the 2009 blockbuster "3 Idiots" that showed a particular sperm fighting for his way among millions of other sperms sums up the initiation to this topic very well. (You see, that's how early the race starts!) Jokes apart, the spirit of fighting for every inch of space you can get and not conceding a single grain is something which is ingrained into us from a very, very young age. This fight is not what politicians and educationists might call "a healthy contest"; on the contrary the cutthroat element is a part of its DNA. A habit which is learned during childhood remains till the dying breath, so lets start with the example of the education system, that piece of machinery which shapes and grinds a child into a finished product ready for the world outside.

A case in point, I remember a very close acquaintance once having mentioned to me about being very busy, since his 5-year-old son was having his "final examinations" at school, and the entire family was preparing for them on war-footing. Television sets were disconnected and playtime was subject to major restrictions. Without disrespecting the parents or the school, do spare a thought for the poor child; he hardly knows what purpose an examination is supposed to serve, but is being forced to sit down with English spellings and Maths problems for God knows how many hours a day. The child eventually did well in his class in the exam, much to the relief of the anxious parents. But what escalates the danger is that when this concept of "competition-oriented learning" is thrown at a child from a very young age, the minds are programmed into a set rhythm and pattern for a lifetime. "Studies" are something you need to be done with, and be done with in a proper manner, and the question of actually "liking" what you are learning is simply not asked! Now this may be sounding a bit hypocritical, (and a certain level of competition between peers is definitely quite beneficial), but when the importance of "learning well" is secondary and "doing better than others" becomes premium, we have a serious problem on our hands. And this is precisely what our grading and ranking system has turned us into. A vicious circle: the higher the competition is, the more is the attention on outscoring the guy next to me, and it propagates on and on. This also reminds me of a rather lame joke I once heard about a High School science student who was so programmed to answering MCQ's that when asked what his father's name was, he asked for four options....

But why highlight the plights of only the student community, when we have a huge working class between the ages of 25 to 65, who are fighting for their right to earn every single day? A farmer is fighting for better produce than the neighbouring village's in order to renovate his house, and an MBA graduate is fighting for a promotion to the 6-figure payment bracket hopeful of booking an apartment in the latest up-market high-rise. Two individuals with absolutely nothing in common, but both are participants of the same race. Also, both have plenty of obstacles: for the farmer it is the monsoon, the low prices and political goons, while for the sales manager it is the monthly target, the backbiting colleague and the ill-tempered boss. Every Bengali boy has at some point in his childhood, while being reprimanded for refusing to study, heard the scary rebuke: "Lekhapora na korle kintu boro hoye muri bechte hobe!" Little did we know at that point that even to become a successful muri-seller today, the competition is not to be underestimated!

One of the worst effects of stress: QUIT SMOKING TODAY.

We Indians are certainly fighting one of the toughest fights there are in the world. We are all scurrying along like mice to a piece of cheese. If you are that odd mouse who has no affection towards cheese and refuse to run, you perish. In a bid to outrun the runner ahead of you the essence of the journey itself is left behind unseen and unfelt. We have no solutions to this, and neither do we see one coming. In the mean time, we are all sharpening our hunting skills and planning our next move to outsmart the world. In a world and a society where you study to achieve a "rank" and a high salary package means higher "value" in the marriage market, where an artisan making an idol thinks not of how beautiful his creation is but of how many more "Puja Samman"s his idol will win over his rival's, we fight. Those able to model their minds and bodies by these rules succeed, the others fall by the wayside.

We have only one world at our disposal, and we have to make the best of it. "What cannot be cured must be endured", and endure we must. In a world of runners one cannot afford to have a morning stroll, so forward march. But at the same time, savour those little moments, when in the rush of life you get a chance to do something you love and not something you "must" (things "out of the syllabus" maybe!), and perhaps they will provide the fuel for the journey onward. Do what you love and love what you do, and maybe a job will not remain a job for long...

"You have competition every day because you set such high standards for yourself that you have to go out every day and live up to that." - Michael Jordan, arguably the greatest basketball player of all time.

That's all for now. Duty calls....

The Virtual World of Social Media

Man is a social animal.

A letter which changed the world.

Not a very long time ago, when I was a school student, life was hectic. What with one thing and the other I found myself short of time most of the times. Fortunately or otherwise, those days passed and then came the glorious days when you are done with school, finished all your exams, assured yourself of a decent college, worries have taken a backseat, and spare time is there to be dealt with in gallons. That was when I decided to have a taste of something hitherto not experienced. So with an open mind and my brother's laptop (due to not owning one at that point of time), I decided to try my hand at "social media".

If every generation has one obsession or craze in it's growing up years, then ours would definitely be the generation of social media. Even this would not be strictly true, for I know quite a number of septuagenarians who are active social media users, and I can't quite call them to be of my generation. Anyway, point remains that if you are literate, have access to internet and have something of a friend-circle, you probably have one (or more) Facebook accounts to your name. "Probably", because now and again you run into quirks like me who are not a part of this norm. My experiment with social media failed miserably, and this blog is about How and Why!

The beginning was quite nice. A cool profile picture, a dozen "Friends" from school, catching up with what everyone else was doing. I remember around five of us had even successfully arranged a meet-up to redeem ourselves from boredom, via Facebook. I was running into people whom I had not met for one decade or so, and it was pretty exciting to see how they had changed in all these years. And it was all very nice. Once the initial thrill was done with, I started the process of keeping myself up to date with what others are thinking and writing of. There was a usual flood of Notifications and News Feeds, and I religiously followed up all those I knew and liked.

Picture Courtesy: IBNLive

A month or two passed. It was then that I asked myself, that what are these people actually talking about? A lot of things, for sure. I liked some of what I read, disliked some, and ignored others. But are these people talking about everything under the sky and beyond because they really have a strong firm informed opinion on the subject, or is it because internet is free and there is that girl you want to impress? "The wise men speak because they have something to say; the fools speak because they have to say something." A world of fools.....? Start thinking, people.

Another couple of weeks, and everything just seemed so FAKE. There were these couple of friends of mine from school, whom I had known from a very young age. Having interacted with them extensively I knew them inside out. But who is this guy I see on Facebook?! Is he really the same person I am used to seeing in the real world? The pretensions were oh so easy to recognize. Another incident worth sharing is regarding this young man I know who is a really decent poet. He writes in Bengali, puts his heart into his writings, and he puts up his modest attempts at poetry on Facebook. He apparently has this large circle of "poetry-appreciating culture-loving" friends who are always the first ones to Like and Share his works. Some time later, the poet, while in conversation with one of the aforementioned friends, refers to something in one of his poems. The "friend", it emerges, has not the slightest idea about the piece of poetry he supposedly had appreciated and "Liked", before sharing it with other individuals who are presumably not too different from him. Lastly, I have heard from friends about someone who upon being bereaved had actually updated his Facebook status within an hour: "Mother died this morning, #feeling_sad".

Bringing internet to every doorstep.

Hollie Annie from Virginia, United States says: ".....I USED to feel alive when I woke up in the morning. But lately I dread getting out of my bed, and when I do... my first thought is to check my messages and absently scroll through an endless sea of distractions that keep me from focusing on REALITY......" I might add to her accurate description a statistic I had read which did a survey of the percentage of smartphone users today who check their phones in the morning before brushing their teeth. I do not remember the exact number, but the percentage was alarmingly high. This phenomenon, hence is not a local but a global one.

When Mark Zuckerberg dreams of bringing every human online or Narendra Modi talks of a Digital India, I have absolutely no problems with it. As a student I do not need to be told the importance of the internet in academics. A digitized nation would mean lesser paperwork, more efficiency and zero corruption. So by no means am I anti-digitization. But merely bringing internet to the doorstep of every individual does not make us a modern state; ensuring its proper utilization is as big a job. Giving 3G connectivity to the remotest Indian village will not suffice Mr. Zuckerberg, what has to be ensured is that Feynman is Googled as nearly as frequently as Facebook. Cut the crap, get down to what matters.

Five months and I had had enough. Many of my friends had advised me against leaving the Facebook community, as "a lot of important work gets discussed and shared on Facebook, which you will miss out on". Much as I appreciated these thoughts, I was ready to accept certain inconveniences for the sake of retaining my peace of mind. Also, having an absolutely superlative degree of self-control mechanism within me (sarcasm intended), I could not risk falling into the addiction that was social media. Thus ended my experiment.

A prerequisite to the nation moving forward.

Dear Reader, please do not feel that I have some personal vengeance against social media barons or the society at large. Neither think of me as a social misfit craving for attention, for I am not. Social media has changed the world, there is no denying that, and what the likes of Mr. Zuckerberg have done is nothing less than a revolution in terms of the people it has affected. I have merely come to develop a dislike for what we have converted this immense boon into, where "Friends" are made with the click of a mouse your popularity is measured by the number of Likes your profile picture has, but "real" contact is absent. Surely, our society can do better than that!

The greatest piece of irony is that despite my tirade against social media, it is the very same platform where this blog will probably be shared (please do!) if people are to indeed read it! Social media merely reflects the society it is a part of. So let us hope for a better future, where social media is not so fake, where people mean what they say, where Friends mean more than clicks of a mouse, and where "Social" media is indeed "Real"!