Disclaimer: The following chronicles are accounts of dreams. They might not make any sense whatsoever, but I find it imperative to record them. So there go the chronicles of a million contradictions and random, involuntary thoughts. Although I am tempted to include them, no interpretation, no separate facts, no representation of real life or real things is intentionally added here. There is no theory subscribed to. All coincidences are purely imaginary, and bear who-knows-what resemblance to anything living or dead.
I am standing in a room with my back to the wall alongside one other man. The room is plain, entirely white and simple; no furniture disturbs the simplicity either. The two of us have folders in our arms and are being interviewed. The interviewers are also wearing shiny black suits with shades and other accessories to match. There is hardly any conversation and both of us are recruited.
As I exit the room, I find out that the entire office complex consists of, again, entirely white single floor structures. The inner part of the complex consists of a single courtyard, the shape and size of it resembles the courtyard where monks used to play tennis.* I stand with my back to one of the four walls of the courtyard all day long, and my colleague carries out all the errands. I see him running across the courtyard several times a day, yet I just stay there doing nothing.
One particular day, I see five men, naked and chained to a wall, standing on a pedestal to appear about a metre higher than the level of the ground. It doesn't appear unusual to me. My suited friend steps in front of the first man, and goes down on him. He goes on to perform oral sex on each of the five men. After his act with the last of the five men, he begins to kiss him. As the two of them part, I see the chained man's tongue ripped out of his mouth, his head hanging down towards the ground and blood flowing no end.
*When I visited the Lord's cricket stadium in London, the tour guide took us to a courtyard where an interesting form of tennis was being played. It was a mixture of squash, tennis and croquet, yet the interesting part was the courtyard itself. It was weird in structure and didn't look like it was supposed to be used for sports or leisure. The guide told us that in ancient times, in a particular monastery, when monks had nothing to do, they used their inner courtyard to play a game - now the ancestor of modern day tennis, squash and croquet. The courtyard had kinks, slopes and other unplayable conditions, which came to be regularities incorporated into the game.
Saturday, 25 July 2009
Saturday, 30 May 2009
Slow Dancing in A Burning Room
*Inspired by the song "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" by John Mayer*
I am alone, on a Thursday evening. I feel free with the lack of sorrows, as would an ordinary man. I am an ordinary, mediocre man. The kind with the hope that with every passing day he will be richer for the experience, ready to hop over the thresholds that he believes to be hurdles today, but despises the time this process takes. Yet with the same deficiency I feel burdened. Sorrow gives me the freedom of pretense of hope that activity will follow. But on that Thursday evening, I decided to play fate with my destiny of monotony.
I enter the restaurant and witness the want of people for it's survival. Ideating extrapolations of my sincere concern for humanity, in the process conceiving images of my own destruction in the process frightens me for a moment. The most magnificent of bounties that nature provides to a man for the ocean of attention he has to offer, in the corner sipping the glass of Pinot Noir as I would like to believe, however, cannot help but distract. My hesitation kills me. I am alone, on a Thursday evening with the prospect of making it into something meaningfully uncommon. Recollecting my resolve, I stopped reasoning with myself. I walked towards her and sat on the chair next to hers.
Awkward silence. After a few perplexing minutes of staring at each other, I believe we decided independently and concurrently not to speak for the rest of the evening, but acknowledged our existence as separate from the remainder of the universe. I don't remember her blinking or lifting her glass of wine, which I know by now not to be Pinot Noir, but I wasn't looking for signs to consider or ignore. In fact, it would be comfortable, but inaccurate to classify my being as aware.
A few grungy notes of music prompt John Mayer to begin. It's not a silly little moment, it's not the storm before the calm. Incognisant of the blur beyond seven paces of where I stand, I stand up and ask her for the dance that was always meant to be. I can't seem to hold her like I want to, so I could feel her in my arms. She takes proverbial charge, as if she knew everything I didn't. She did. Flames light up in chorus somewhere in the midst of the blur I still don't notice, but I can feel the heat. Sweet sweat beads collide with each other in harmony with the music to remind me if I ever forgot. I follow her step, one by one. We liquefied into something abstract and took proverbial charge to direct John's tempo. He never complained. I take her hand, she takes my shoulder and we exchange whatever we never had before, but had developed. One little bead tells me we're slow dancing in a burning room.
I was the one she always dreamed of. She was the only light I ever saw. After what seemed to be instants separated by intoxicating fumes, but were minutes we hear the riff and trust it's time. It just is. We're going down, she could see it too. She knows that we're doomed. As the flames slowly engulf us completely, we come closer to avoid getting burned. Should we? I think we ought to have known by now. When we were close enough to feel the last few deep and dying breaths of the love that we had been working on, the music fades.
I am alone, on a Thursday evening. I feel free with the lack of sorrows, as would an ordinary man. I am an ordinary, mediocre man. The kind with the hope that with every passing day he will be richer for the experience, ready to hop over the thresholds that he believes to be hurdles today, but despises the time this process takes. Yet with the same deficiency I feel burdened. Sorrow gives me the freedom of pretense of hope that activity will follow. But on that Thursday evening, I decided to play fate with my destiny of monotony.
I enter the restaurant and witness the want of people for it's survival. Ideating extrapolations of my sincere concern for humanity, in the process conceiving images of my own destruction in the process frightens me for a moment. The most magnificent of bounties that nature provides to a man for the ocean of attention he has to offer, in the corner sipping the glass of Pinot Noir as I would like to believe, however, cannot help but distract. My hesitation kills me. I am alone, on a Thursday evening with the prospect of making it into something meaningfully uncommon. Recollecting my resolve, I stopped reasoning with myself. I walked towards her and sat on the chair next to hers.
Awkward silence. After a few perplexing minutes of staring at each other, I believe we decided independently and concurrently not to speak for the rest of the evening, but acknowledged our existence as separate from the remainder of the universe. I don't remember her blinking or lifting her glass of wine, which I know by now not to be Pinot Noir, but I wasn't looking for signs to consider or ignore. In fact, it would be comfortable, but inaccurate to classify my being as aware.
A few grungy notes of music prompt John Mayer to begin. It's not a silly little moment, it's not the storm before the calm. Incognisant of the blur beyond seven paces of where I stand, I stand up and ask her for the dance that was always meant to be. I can't seem to hold her like I want to, so I could feel her in my arms. She takes proverbial charge, as if she knew everything I didn't. She did. Flames light up in chorus somewhere in the midst of the blur I still don't notice, but I can feel the heat. Sweet sweat beads collide with each other in harmony with the music to remind me if I ever forgot. I follow her step, one by one. We liquefied into something abstract and took proverbial charge to direct John's tempo. He never complained. I take her hand, she takes my shoulder and we exchange whatever we never had before, but had developed. One little bead tells me we're slow dancing in a burning room.
I was the one she always dreamed of. She was the only light I ever saw. After what seemed to be instants separated by intoxicating fumes, but were minutes we hear the riff and trust it's time. It just is. We're going down, she could see it too. She knows that we're doomed. As the flames slowly engulf us completely, we come closer to avoid getting burned. Should we? I think we ought to have known by now. When we were close enough to feel the last few deep and dying breaths of the love that we had been working on, the music fades.
Sunday, 22 March 2009
Mother, I and God
Mother is sleepwalking her way through the strenuous preparations of rituals that mark one of the great Hindu festivals, Holi. I, at my cynical best, ask her why.
Mother: Someday I'm going to gift to you a book about the significance of festivals.
Me: I doubt if that kind of book exists.
Mother: Then I'll write it myself and then dedicate it to you.
I won't be surprised if she actually does it. My mother's the feisty kind. In fact, had she been born only a couple of decades later, she would have been quite the rebel, albeit with a cause. She's also the modern woman with a different set of goals, yet with age old inspirations and values. She's a complete enthusiast, a person who regularly challenges assumptions and directs discussions. Yet she took her own time to come to terms with her son's agnosticism and his coming out of the ritualistic and religious closet. The process was, as I imagine, started off in denial, graduated to bargaining and rested finally in acceptance.
Me: Mother, why does all this have to happen to us? What have we done wrong?
Mother: God must have an ulterior motive.
Me: I don't get it. What motive could it be?
Mother: Don't worry. It'll all be alright. :)
Denial. Mother's voice was more comforting than the words at that age. There was no rational explanation of us getting the bad share of things that happen to people. Now that I think of it, it was nothing but a random event. Any other argument is only consolation; the best of which is that no one else could have handled it - courtesy, Mother. Hence, God chose us.
Me: Mother, where is your God when people die for no fault of theirs? What's the deal with Him when airplanes turn up at American towers?
Mother: What do you mean 'my God'? Anyway, God will take care of every perpetrator of violence. No one is excepted from karma.
Me: Okay. So should we just leave them alone if we know they're going to be dealt with?
Mother: Offo. Of course we shouldn't leave them - punish them in the severest manner. But He has his own system of justice which cannot be tampered with.
Bargaining. Mom is aware of my emerging political and social principles. She wouldn't dare compromise on them, because she knows they're on track. She'll give or take a few, and compromise on some beliefs in exchange for others.
Me: Okay, I think it's time I shrugged off some newly learnt logic on you, Mother.
Mother: Bas baat karwa lo jitni karwa sakte ho.
Me: Haan, so, how can you say God exists because there is no evidence of Him not existing. Similarly, I cannot say God doesn't exist because there is no evidence of Him existing.
Mother: What? Fine, fine, you're right.
Me: No, no. I won't accept victory so easy. So, if His non-existence is highly probably, wouldn't we save some lunacy by not doing all this Hol(i/y)-giri?
Mother: Meri marzi. I'll do it if I want to. And you will participate because your Mother has invested a lot of time and effort in it. You won't do anything in your time, will you? I tell you (to Father), by his time, there won't be any festival or riti-riwaaz.
Acceptance.
Mother: Someday I'm going to gift to you a book about the significance of festivals.
Me: I doubt if that kind of book exists.
Mother: Then I'll write it myself and then dedicate it to you.
I won't be surprised if she actually does it. My mother's the feisty kind. In fact, had she been born only a couple of decades later, she would have been quite the rebel, albeit with a cause. She's also the modern woman with a different set of goals, yet with age old inspirations and values. She's a complete enthusiast, a person who regularly challenges assumptions and directs discussions. Yet she took her own time to come to terms with her son's agnosticism and his coming out of the ritualistic and religious closet. The process was, as I imagine, started off in denial, graduated to bargaining and rested finally in acceptance.
Me: Mother, why does all this have to happen to us? What have we done wrong?
Mother: God must have an ulterior motive.
Me: I don't get it. What motive could it be?
Mother: Don't worry. It'll all be alright. :)
Denial. Mother's voice was more comforting than the words at that age. There was no rational explanation of us getting the bad share of things that happen to people. Now that I think of it, it was nothing but a random event. Any other argument is only consolation; the best of which is that no one else could have handled it - courtesy, Mother. Hence, God chose us.
Me: Mother, where is your God when people die for no fault of theirs? What's the deal with Him when airplanes turn up at American towers?
Mother: What do you mean 'my God'? Anyway, God will take care of every perpetrator of violence. No one is excepted from karma.
Me: Okay. So should we just leave them alone if we know they're going to be dealt with?
Mother: Offo. Of course we shouldn't leave them - punish them in the severest manner. But He has his own system of justice which cannot be tampered with.
Bargaining. Mom is aware of my emerging political and social principles. She wouldn't dare compromise on them, because she knows they're on track. She'll give or take a few, and compromise on some beliefs in exchange for others.
Me: Okay, I think it's time I shrugged off some newly learnt logic on you, Mother.
Mother: Bas baat karwa lo jitni karwa sakte ho.
Me: Haan, so, how can you say God exists because there is no evidence of Him not existing. Similarly, I cannot say God doesn't exist because there is no evidence of Him existing.
Mother: What? Fine, fine, you're right.
Me: No, no. I won't accept victory so easy. So, if His non-existence is highly probably, wouldn't we save some lunacy by not doing all this Hol(i/y)-giri?
Mother: Meri marzi. I'll do it if I want to. And you will participate because your Mother has invested a lot of time and effort in it. You won't do anything in your time, will you? I tell you (to Father), by his time, there won't be any festival or riti-riwaaz.
Acceptance.
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Sounds of Silence
When hymns that ring in the midst
Of silence, entwined betwixt
Words to live by profound,
Crystal thought to precede the sound
Are one with faith sublime,
The Prophecy flows divine.
Thus is defined sin and purgatory;
Of penance and misery stories told,
When lightning strikes and thunder howls,
Heroes emerge and myths unfold.
Though it intrigues me in wake today,
That in my mind, not heart,
Reside those hymns and words, yet
Thoughtful silence begets Art.
Of silence, entwined betwixt
Words to live by profound,
Crystal thought to precede the sound
Are one with faith sublime,
The Prophecy flows divine.
Thus is defined sin and purgatory;
Of penance and misery stories told,
When lightning strikes and thunder howls,
Heroes emerge and myths unfold.
Though it intrigues me in wake today,
That in my mind, not heart,
Reside those hymns and words, yet
Thoughtful silence begets Art.
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
Lives without Locks
Several containers of furniture that my Dad's company imported from Malaysia were sent back. They just didn't sell. The reason? Not a single piece had locks on it.
I know none of this would make sense to you. But I urge you to hear me out. What if the reason we are bullied and attacked is that we're afraid? What if the reason we're robbed is that we have locks all over the place? What if we've been taking the causality of being afraid the opposite way?
I think our fear and weakness is the perpetrator's greatest strength. In fact, not just strength, sense of accomplishment as well. The biggest problem is, though, that this weakness isn't oppressive, it's self-inflicted.
To continue, I'll borrow from another highly persuasive argument. The only reason human beings don't change is because they think they're immortal. We think if we protect ourselves well enough, we'll last forever, further fueling the fear fire; and we drive ourselves deeper into the ground, vulnerable for any eventuality - but not prepared. This renders us weaker, still unprepared, till something hits us.
So I propose this. What if one night, we all sleep cozy in our homes, with all our doors open - no locks? Let's just try. No boundaries, no restrictions. No fear.
I know none of this would make sense to you. But I urge you to hear me out. What if the reason we are bullied and attacked is that we're afraid? What if the reason we're robbed is that we have locks all over the place? What if we've been taking the causality of being afraid the opposite way?
I think our fear and weakness is the perpetrator's greatest strength. In fact, not just strength, sense of accomplishment as well. The biggest problem is, though, that this weakness isn't oppressive, it's self-inflicted.
To continue, I'll borrow from another highly persuasive argument. The only reason human beings don't change is because they think they're immortal. We think if we protect ourselves well enough, we'll last forever, further fueling the fear fire; and we drive ourselves deeper into the ground, vulnerable for any eventuality - but not prepared. This renders us weaker, still unprepared, till something hits us.
So I propose this. What if one night, we all sleep cozy in our homes, with all our doors open - no locks? Let's just try. No boundaries, no restrictions. No fear.
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
You Only See What You Believe
In the early 1980's, Japanese car makers were beginning to consistently outperform their American counterparts. One fine day, an American company decided to send a few of its top executives to Japan, to find out exactly what the Japanese were up to. The factory plant that was shown shocked them. There were no inventories. When they came back, one executive remarked, "They staged that plant".
We now know that isn't true. The Americans saw, in operation, what came to be known as "Just-In-Time", a marvel of cutting-edge industrial engineering. But there is a bigger question. Why couldn't those executives believe what they saw?
Avoiding conspiracy theories since this isn't dinner table conversation, I think it's only one of those rare times when you just can't believe what you see. In other words, you believe perception is not true. That goes head-on against Carvaka philosophy, which deems perception the highest source of knowledge. But, I think the Carvakas missed an important element of the equation. I think the Carvaka perception isn't really what is in our minds, it's the inference from it. The Carvakas conveniently reject inference as a source of true knowledge. One could never be too sure, they say.
I think that broken link between what we see and what we think we see is presupposition. Human beings are born without blinkers. Out of 90% of children with genius-level intelligence, only 10% retain it till they're 13. Only 2% retain it till they're 21. With every learning comes a restriction. When we open new doors, we close a few as well. There are innumerous examples in medical science where new avenues are not even considered since the old alleys are doing just fine. What we don't know, however, is that there could be way to avoid the drowsiness that comes free with my cough syrup. But as long as I don't cough anymore, one wouldn't really mind. That is where the we bring in the blinkers. The Americans never believed there was any way possible to minimize inventory costs more than they already had. They never believed that there could be a way to eliminate inventory altogether.
In other words, I think it's quite the other way round. You only see what you believe. This shakes the entire "Existence of God" debate in my mind. In fact, so many other debates. Wanderlust.
We now know that isn't true. The Americans saw, in operation, what came to be known as "Just-In-Time", a marvel of cutting-edge industrial engineering. But there is a bigger question. Why couldn't those executives believe what they saw?
Avoiding conspiracy theories since this isn't dinner table conversation, I think it's only one of those rare times when you just can't believe what you see. In other words, you believe perception is not true. That goes head-on against Carvaka philosophy, which deems perception the highest source of knowledge. But, I think the Carvakas missed an important element of the equation. I think the Carvaka perception isn't really what is in our minds, it's the inference from it. The Carvakas conveniently reject inference as a source of true knowledge. One could never be too sure, they say.
I think that broken link between what we see and what we think we see is presupposition. Human beings are born without blinkers. Out of 90% of children with genius-level intelligence, only 10% retain it till they're 13. Only 2% retain it till they're 21. With every learning comes a restriction. When we open new doors, we close a few as well. There are innumerous examples in medical science where new avenues are not even considered since the old alleys are doing just fine. What we don't know, however, is that there could be way to avoid the drowsiness that comes free with my cough syrup. But as long as I don't cough anymore, one wouldn't really mind. That is where the we bring in the blinkers. The Americans never believed there was any way possible to minimize inventory costs more than they already had. They never believed that there could be a way to eliminate inventory altogether.
In other words, I think it's quite the other way round. You only see what you believe. This shakes the entire "Existence of God" debate in my mind. In fact, so many other debates. Wanderlust.
Wednesday, 19 November 2008
IIT - A Sociological Analysis
In the following thousand words, let me make an attempt at defining what IIT exactly is – in a critical sociological analysis of the ecosystem that an IIT campus is. For the sake of completeness, I intend to elucidate some of the problems that IIT and related systems face in the light of this analysis.
At the outset, let us not squander time by challenging the potency of the JEE and ride safe on the assumption that the IITs attract some of the brightest minds of the country. What we often choose to neglect is where these bright minds come from. Some may argue that all children are not really born alike. At least the statement must not be assumed false. Let us also not debate these assumptions and avoid claims or comments on the similarity of the sociological break-up of IIT students to Indian society at large. I could certainly prove empirically, if not otherwise, that the majority of IIT students are from the middle to upper-middle class of Indian society. Perhaps the coaching class fee barrier keeps the lower strata out, and probably the charm and viability of higher education abroad applies for the other conspicuously absent section. These arguments on cash flow, however, are hardly convincing.
Moving on from a previous statement, the Indian middle class is generally apathetic, self-driven and self-centred. This is almost truly reflective of the average IIT student’s mentality. It’s a blatant and unrepentant indulgence, sometimes refuge, in a “do-your-thing” attitude. Social issues, for example, are illogically, yet conveniently labelled ‘can-not’. In fact, a definite divisive line could be drawn here between the Indian middle class and their Western counterparts. This resides in the definition of what is ‘public’ and what is ‘private’. Indians inherently believe that as long as their own house is clean, whatever litter they throw outside is legitimate – or worse, they just couldn’t care less. On a particular instance, I saw someone wearing a doomed look after a “drop of ketch-up on my shirt accident”. The same person threw the paper plate he used to clean his act up in a post-box a while later. Don’t feel sorry for him. It’s in his culture. As a contrast, other parts of the world were brought up with the definition of private being anything that could even be partly under your control.
On similar lines, IITians, although individually brilliant, are perpetually engaged in a rat race which gives them no constructive result but makes them pay for a blinkered vision of things around them. Even though IIT may have tonnes to offer in terms of knowledge, learning for students is restricted to a direction that achieves tangible benefits. Arguably, there is a certain comfort level associated within the boundaries and rationales created. As an apt analogy, there is a gated, secluded atmosphere on campus. But in my opinion, that shouldn’t give us an opportunity to ignore harsh reality. Even if life is comfortable, there is no reason to hide from responsibilities towards the greater good – that especially rests on the shoulders of IIT students. Whether they knowingly signed up for the social responsibility is also a debate. However, there is an inherent contradiction here. Given the responsibility of belonging to a developing nation and a recently empowered class that can make a difference, there is still rampant apathy. True, widely accepted success metrics include money, power and challenges. IIT students are no exception. The rat race, though, is not an optimal solution for achieving the same.
IITs also pride themselves in the meritocracy that they have established. Today, however, one’s class, exposure, upbringing and economic status have a staggering reflection on merit. This was the basic argument for reservation when it was established. To prove these hindrances have been removed and reservation should now be abolished is anything but an easy task. Although the entrance mechanism makes meritocracy an innate aspect to IIT, it really isn’t. On the other hand, I would define meritocracy as the egalitarian principles adopted in evaluation during the degree course. There is simply no room for lagging behind. This could be extended as far as saying that there is no room for different, say, creative individuals. Further, there is an ambiguity as to how success is defined, following also from an earlier discussion. The alumni in Silicon Valley are generally called ‘successful’. Are they? Their contributions back to the country, to the taxpayers who paid for their world-class education, leave a lot to be desired. On the other hand, is Dunu Roy, who has spent the better part of his life after IIT uplifting tribes in M.P. successful? Maybe not, he was supposed to be an engineer. The two seem to be contrasting in nature – clear opinions could be formed by different people. I could, on the contrary, side with both given that I can’t equate the two principles.
Minor observations could be the angst characteristic of the age-group in question. Social responsibility, again, is usually restricted to the self in such cases. A leading statement would be to call it immaturity and irresponsibility. Deviance, although not rampant, exists – the post-box incident for example. On the other hand, civil disobedience is also deviance. Another minor observation is a general sense of complacency amongst IIT students. This substantiates the secluded atmosphere on campus – oblivious to the ‘lesser’ mortals and their unimportant deeds and issues. I could bet that a majority of IIT students wouldn’t know about the recent developments in their own fields, let alone the nuclear deal or the assembly elections. What’s worse is that I fear most just wouldn’t care.
Finally, IITs gear to be world class. In that search, the authorities don't want to deal with "messy" issues. Folklore consists only of the success stories – again substantiating the ambiguity of the success metric. Anything bordering on politics is never discussed – has also been accepted by the Public Relations Office. In a compromise on the attempt at staying a full-bodied meritocracy, non-academic staff (not contributing to the success metric) is poorly treated - some are on a temporary basis for the last 20 years. Professors and students are pampered, though. These characteristics reek of elitism – which isn’t always as great as it sounds for obvious reasons.
To be fair, though, the structures that exist breed success, as is known to the common man. Professors acknowledge that students have a higher understanding of subjects, which may not necessarily be in their own pet area. Probably, there is a general correlation between intelligence and intellect. Given the intelligence, the intellect is probably there somewhere. Maybe I just haven’t found a considerable measure of it yet. In the attempt at forcefully teaching every student at other colleges, IIT students have a general sense of freedom. The authorities trust them to make the right choices. The entire process defines this very structure. To that effect, the other places operate on egalitarian principles as opposed to the elitism here, which isn’t – really – always as bad as may sound.
At the outset, let us not squander time by challenging the potency of the JEE and ride safe on the assumption that the IITs attract some of the brightest minds of the country. What we often choose to neglect is where these bright minds come from. Some may argue that all children are not really born alike. At least the statement must not be assumed false. Let us also not debate these assumptions and avoid claims or comments on the similarity of the sociological break-up of IIT students to Indian society at large. I could certainly prove empirically, if not otherwise, that the majority of IIT students are from the middle to upper-middle class of Indian society. Perhaps the coaching class fee barrier keeps the lower strata out, and probably the charm and viability of higher education abroad applies for the other conspicuously absent section. These arguments on cash flow, however, are hardly convincing.
Moving on from a previous statement, the Indian middle class is generally apathetic, self-driven and self-centred. This is almost truly reflective of the average IIT student’s mentality. It’s a blatant and unrepentant indulgence, sometimes refuge, in a “do-your-thing” attitude. Social issues, for example, are illogically, yet conveniently labelled ‘can-not’. In fact, a definite divisive line could be drawn here between the Indian middle class and their Western counterparts. This resides in the definition of what is ‘public’ and what is ‘private’. Indians inherently believe that as long as their own house is clean, whatever litter they throw outside is legitimate – or worse, they just couldn’t care less. On a particular instance, I saw someone wearing a doomed look after a “drop of ketch-up on my shirt accident”. The same person threw the paper plate he used to clean his act up in a post-box a while later. Don’t feel sorry for him. It’s in his culture. As a contrast, other parts of the world were brought up with the definition of private being anything that could even be partly under your control.
On similar lines, IITians, although individually brilliant, are perpetually engaged in a rat race which gives them no constructive result but makes them pay for a blinkered vision of things around them. Even though IIT may have tonnes to offer in terms of knowledge, learning for students is restricted to a direction that achieves tangible benefits. Arguably, there is a certain comfort level associated within the boundaries and rationales created. As an apt analogy, there is a gated, secluded atmosphere on campus. But in my opinion, that shouldn’t give us an opportunity to ignore harsh reality. Even if life is comfortable, there is no reason to hide from responsibilities towards the greater good – that especially rests on the shoulders of IIT students. Whether they knowingly signed up for the social responsibility is also a debate. However, there is an inherent contradiction here. Given the responsibility of belonging to a developing nation and a recently empowered class that can make a difference, there is still rampant apathy. True, widely accepted success metrics include money, power and challenges. IIT students are no exception. The rat race, though, is not an optimal solution for achieving the same.
IITs also pride themselves in the meritocracy that they have established. Today, however, one’s class, exposure, upbringing and economic status have a staggering reflection on merit. This was the basic argument for reservation when it was established. To prove these hindrances have been removed and reservation should now be abolished is anything but an easy task. Although the entrance mechanism makes meritocracy an innate aspect to IIT, it really isn’t. On the other hand, I would define meritocracy as the egalitarian principles adopted in evaluation during the degree course. There is simply no room for lagging behind. This could be extended as far as saying that there is no room for different, say, creative individuals. Further, there is an ambiguity as to how success is defined, following also from an earlier discussion. The alumni in Silicon Valley are generally called ‘successful’. Are they? Their contributions back to the country, to the taxpayers who paid for their world-class education, leave a lot to be desired. On the other hand, is Dunu Roy, who has spent the better part of his life after IIT uplifting tribes in M.P. successful? Maybe not, he was supposed to be an engineer. The two seem to be contrasting in nature – clear opinions could be formed by different people. I could, on the contrary, side with both given that I can’t equate the two principles.
Minor observations could be the angst characteristic of the age-group in question. Social responsibility, again, is usually restricted to the self in such cases. A leading statement would be to call it immaturity and irresponsibility. Deviance, although not rampant, exists – the post-box incident for example. On the other hand, civil disobedience is also deviance. Another minor observation is a general sense of complacency amongst IIT students. This substantiates the secluded atmosphere on campus – oblivious to the ‘lesser’ mortals and their unimportant deeds and issues. I could bet that a majority of IIT students wouldn’t know about the recent developments in their own fields, let alone the nuclear deal or the assembly elections. What’s worse is that I fear most just wouldn’t care.
Finally, IITs gear to be world class. In that search, the authorities don't want to deal with "messy" issues. Folklore consists only of the success stories – again substantiating the ambiguity of the success metric. Anything bordering on politics is never discussed – has also been accepted by the Public Relations Office. In a compromise on the attempt at staying a full-bodied meritocracy, non-academic staff (not contributing to the success metric) is poorly treated - some are on a temporary basis for the last 20 years. Professors and students are pampered, though. These characteristics reek of elitism – which isn’t always as great as it sounds for obvious reasons.
To be fair, though, the structures that exist breed success, as is known to the common man. Professors acknowledge that students have a higher understanding of subjects, which may not necessarily be in their own pet area. Probably, there is a general correlation between intelligence and intellect. Given the intelligence, the intellect is probably there somewhere. Maybe I just haven’t found a considerable measure of it yet. In the attempt at forcefully teaching every student at other colleges, IIT students have a general sense of freedom. The authorities trust them to make the right choices. The entire process defines this very structure. To that effect, the other places operate on egalitarian principles as opposed to the elitism here, which isn’t – really – always as bad as may sound.
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