Questions anyone?

Our life is based on assumptions, assumptions some of which are realistic and some that have been dictated by the environment we live in. It’s difficult to see beyond these assumptions when we are living in the environment that dictates these assumptions. We have thus, two solutions to change the status quo. Getting out of that environment; as the anthropologists say- moving away from our cultural environment and entering a new one is the best way to understand our environment OR engender a more prolific questioning system. Whilst, physically moving to a new cultural vantage point might not always be possible, the spirit of questioning can afford all the liberties that seem to be curtailed in the first solution. Questioning things, one might say might be governed by the cultural context. Some cultures tend to not perceive too much choice, and accept the status quo in a humble manner, some cultures on the other hand, are more vocal in expressing this spirit of enquiry. But then again, this is an oversimplification.
There might be this voice which asks, why the need to question anything at all? Well, that’s, the first step in questioning itself. Answer that and let the enquiry begin.

The Average Indian

1. Does not speak English
2. Does not have a phone
3. Is not an IT engineer
4. Has never travelled outside his/her village
5. Does not have a facebook account
6. Can not read this
7. Is not you and me.

So, the next time we shimmy towards generalizations let us stop and think for a second.
This is not an attempt to extol our relative achievements or the privilege that might have ostensibly been bestowed upon us. It is but a mere reflection of our ignorance, and the great responsibility that rests in our hand to acknowledge it and do something about it.

According to a 2005 World Bank estimate, 42% of India falls below the international poverty line of US$ 1.25 a day (PPP, in nominal terms 21.6 a day in urban areas and 14.3 in rural areas).
2007 report by the state-run National Commission for Enterprises in the Unorganised Sector (NCEUS) found that 77% of Indians lived on less than 20 rupees (approximately US$0.50 nominal; US$2 PPP) per day.
As per the 2001 census, 35.5% of Indian households availed of banking services, 35.1% owned a radio or transistor, 31.6% a television, 9.1% a phone, 43.7% a bicycle, 11.7% a scooter, motorcycle or a moped, and 2.5% a car, jeep or van; 34.5% of the households had none of these assets.
(Source: Wikipedia. i.e- not that far away from our reach)

Madrid on my Mind

There are some cities that can overwhelm your heart. Madrid is definitely one of those cities. There are sights to be seen and wonders to be encountered here at every step. These wonders aren’t the usual run-of-the-mill grand events, but small little things that one may come across whilst walking or even while waiting for the metro. It could be the notes of a roadside musician or the careless abandon with which lovers look into each others eyes, but they inspire just as well as Vangelis’ theme from Chariots of Fire or bring out emotions similar to reading a poem by Frost.
But this is just me, and my overzealous impressions. Let it not sway your sanity

Memorable Madrid Metro Stations

Alonso Martinez-Gregorio Marañon

Gregorio-my home metro station and Alonso-the one after. I frequent them more than other stations I believe. Alonso Martinez has been recently discovered by me as the station that opens up avenues for food-courtesy the many restaurants close by. Also the beautiful Plaza Santa Barbara just off Alonso Martinez is a great place to just sit on a warm summer night, or any night right after the end of the Jazz at El Junco. Ofcourse, there was the night I encountered humans dressed as aliens in the metro headed towards Gregorio Marañon. These upbeat creatures sang and danced and pranced around the escalators, with more alacrity than the usual humans.

Nuñez De Balboa

The green line at Nunez de Balboa goes everywhere. Everywhere that you need to be. Everywhere that you should be.

Atocha

Ah Atocha! The port of embarkation for the travel to Toledo, and the port of much search for car rentals for the trip to San Sebastian. It is most associated with promise of travels to exotic places.

Tribunal

I remember discussing with D once that the metro at tribunal must be built really close to the abyss of hell, considering the number of escalators we need to climb up to get out. But of course, Tribunal is associated with the Bongo Player more than anything else. His music provides a nice soundtrack for the mundane journey up the escalators. He even has guest artistes that perform with him time to time. His enthusiasm is unbridled and his tuneful beats make the journey to the depths of hell worth reminiscing about.

Chueca

Ah, Chueca. The Metro station where my wallet was stolen, so it has a special place in my heart. But Checua’s appeal lies in its numerous little bars and shops. It’s vibrant vista is definitely something that warrants a visit, a cana and a stroll.

Freedom from Social Isomorphism

We fight for freedom. Wars are waged, rebellion is staged. But Is our freedom ever free? Will we ever by free from the need for social convergence?

Let us Be Taught

I have always been one of those students who had this reverence for teachers. Perhaps it has something to with half my family being involved in that profession, or maybe I am just afraid. Let’s say at this point in time I don’t want to find out. My decision to explore and devote the rest of my life to academia perhaps didn’t come as quite a shock to me, which is more than I can say for my friends at the more ambitious business school fraternity. From within this newly forayed into domain of academia, I however feel this incredulous and disdainful array of questions directed from the outside- “ the real world” as it may be called. Of course, once the Pandora’s box of scepticism has been opened, it is difficult to let the spate of questions pass by without rationalising to some extent. So began the quest to express sentiment over the issue which validates all things real and marginalises activities associated with teaching as something for those avoiding reality.

My argument is constructed firstly on an attempt to clarify the role of teaching in a society that is undergoing cataclysmic change with the advent of the Internet, allowing easy access to knowledge. As I dwell back on the first memories of interacting with teachers, I am reminded of the countless hours we spent with out first grade teacher trying to learn alphabets that construct a coherent word in our myriad languages, the endless series of numbers written to put a value to this abstract world of ours, to the stories we heard which made us realise that stealing Tara’s lunch is wrong. But then, don’t we already know this? Pardon my temerity, but I believe we tend to forget these invaluable lessons that were indeed taught to us. It is perhaps easy for those of us being empowered with education to underrate the role of teachers in our lives. The very fact that many of us are able to comprehend what is being written here, is very testament to the fact that we were taught how to read at some point in our distant or not so distant past ( as the case may be). Maybe the value of a teacher is more to those who are never forced to learn and never pushed down the path of learning. There are countless children in the world who never go to schools, have never had a teacher, who will probably never be taught how to write their own names. Secondly, on a more abstract level, I question the construct of reality. Our unabashed claims marginalising teaching as a form of escapism from the real world, are based on our own interpretation of reality. Moreover, since many of us have created this collective sense of “reality” anything that does not adhere to it tends to lie outside this construct.

As I write this, I am reminded of a quote that I have heard often, particularly right after I have declared my intent as to the Ph.D I am undertaking- “Those who can – do, Those who can’t- teach”. A perfunctory attempt online to dwell to the source of this quote, surprised me. This quote was used by a famous author in a completely different context, however it is cited today to a great extent to the point of having degraded itself to a cliché. However noble the intent of the quote might have been at the time, at present it just fuels the determination of those who still question the profession of teaching.
Can you imagine a world where there weren’t any teachers? I sure can’t. Perhaps, I like to be told once in a while what is required, perhaps I am just a sucker for authority. But that’s just me. While learning by doing is perhaps the best way of acquiring valuable life lessons, rest assured, we do not want to explore the answer to 587683 divided by 365 using a trial and error approach.

On second thought too much control and authority makes us rebel, and makes us sing along to Pink Floyd “ Teachers leave those kids alone”. But then teachers aren’t here to take the blame for the way we think, and what we don’t make of our lives. We need to look at the profession for what it is intended, not more not less.
My parting words on this theme would have to be these:
“Those who can - do,
Those who can’t – teach”
And those who aren’t taught,
Shall soon beseech

An ode to the dried up Lense

Dried up lense,look at you rot
you'd be with me forever, so id thought
I poured solution on u day after day
But in your final moments, no goodbye i could even say
Dried up lense all shrivelled up and grey
You were supposed to adorn me today

The Mighty Common Indian Man

The transition presented in the Indian media from one sensational issue to another is phenomenal in itself. Is it the medias’ mercurial nature, like a child with Attention Deficit Disorder or is it that our country is producing scintillating news every day I am not sure I can answer that with conviction. From the level of preparedness for the Common Wealth Games ( or lack of it thereof) to the Ayodhya verdict, the masses in our country have found a common cause for unity be it the criticism of the Organizing Committee at the Commonwealth Games being hosted in Delhi in the next few days or the myriad reasoning for the possession of the disputed land in Ayodhya.

Freedom of the press is a basic human right and you would all agree with me on that. For censorship would most certainly breed evil, malice and other synonyms associated with all things wrong. So we whole heartedly embrace freedom, adorn out opinions with critique which seems to be the mainstream and then have heated discussions of all that is wrong in our country. Ah, such joy is accompanied with this liberating experience of being able to psychoanalyse all the ills of our society. So the media has managed to unite the masses after all- by making us critics, the elite of the society who sit in coffee shops and munch on cookies and discuss contemporary political issues with panache. But what happens once these conversations are over? Is there any purpose to this critique apart from a meagre ego boost resulting from our splendid abilities to synthesise arguments of what is wrong and how it needs to be rectified? Unfortunately, I think this is where the story ends. The process of sensationalism-igniting passion-criticism ends there. But it does leave some vestiges of positivity- the power of unity, the power of united passion. If we can come together to vehemently discuss all that is wrong, perhaps all is not lost just yet. Perhaps there is a way to make mends. We don’t need a change of the government, or any institutional change. We must remember the nature of the democracy; we must understand the power that lies with the common man. The you and the me of the society.

The media might be doing what it does best, but the incidental bi-products of this radical sensationalism is the generation of passion among the masse. Only when we- not as a nation, not as a state or a city or a school or a university, but as you and me, just individual units, decide to channelize this passion into a tangible action, can the country as a whole accelerate on its path to evolve into a nation that is developed in the true sense.

Abstract, as it may be, the concept of change is actually very fundamental. We can start now, by not littering our cities, by not jumping the stop light, and by generally being more happy. It’s time to take ownership, for India is a democracy. We have created it and we have the power to change it.

We are all misfits
no one is cast in a mold,
with dreams unique
and secrets untold.
None of us know,
but each is told,
the webs grow,
dreams go cold.
We are all misfits,
stacked up in a row,
we need disarray,
ah atleast now we know.

What is that you said?
I didn’t hear you,
Encore, my friend.
The loud voices,
The din of the room,
The girl rejoices,
What is that you said?
I want to hear you,
But I can’t, not a word
It doesn’t make sense,
The voice is blurred.
What is that you said?
I heard you, yes I did,
But I desist to comprehend,
I leave the room,
I can’t pretend.
What is that you said?
Ah, it’s all right
I choose not to hear,
My ears are blind.

Collision Course

Indian Society is undoubtedly a collective society. If it is not evident to you yet (you-referring to an Indian reader, others can let this illustration be an evidence), please refer back to a memory when you were departing to some far off land to study/work/travel and your entire family comprising parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins had thronged to the airport to bid you a fond farewell. Family adhesiveness and societal pressures are indeed quintessentially Indian. I knew this at some subliminal level, but after interacting with people from so many Individualistic cultures, this realization has become completely conscious.

But although our collective conscious dominates, I see streaks of Individualistic tendencies creeping out and trying to make their presence felt. I can see this with greater clarity as I reflect on the difference between my parents and I. In a collective society people value the society more, and anyone not in adherence with the social construct would be deemed a misfit and outlier, if at all that is allowed to exist, because usually individuals would not want to do anything to be an outlier. I have heard of stories of girls wanting to become dancers and singers, but their parents opposition to trivialised profession as opposed to other respectable and well paid professions, lead to thwarted desires, and eventually contributed to those girls pursuing something in tandem with the desires of their parents, which in fact were influenced by the collective conscience. What we see here is a collision of collective conscience and an Individual identity. What eventually won here was the collective.

Indian society and culture prescribes codes of conduct, behaviour, sense of morality and sometimes even professional pursuits. This works fine as long as we live in a cocoon of socially constructed reality, oblivious to externalities of the world. But the minute this bubble explodes, as is evident now-with a vast influx of media, changed lifestyle, greater incomes, travels and perhaps an enhanced view of the world, we have rebellious youth questioning authority. How long that lasts, of course depends on how strong the collective conscience is.
Individual and collective desires are usually at loggerheads in a society like ours; there is almost always a trade off. There is no optimal strategy for gratifying both. If I do something that makes me happy, it probably will be at a cost of making my family and my society unhappy. Of course this is a simplistic generalization, and money and education has afforded some members of our society to develop their own accepted norms and values which are somewhere in between the continuum of Individualistic desires and the collective conscience.

The life of a pre-pubescent in India can be fraught with quite some confusion given a collision of identities. We grow up readings books that talk about dreaming big and exploring, we see movies in which individuals have defied the social norm to go on to do something grandiose, and then when we remove ourselves from this world of books and movies, we find ourselves confronted with a strange reality. We oft, can not do what we really are pining to do. Worse yet, our desires and wishes get engulfed by the great collective cloud, and slowly the dissonance we experience from holding these two contradictory thoughts in our head, ameliorates, and what is left is the nebulous cloud of the collective construct, and we don’t even realize when the individual became the collective.