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Sunday, December 31, 2023

More mangled English

Well, just one more post on the last day of the year.

This is meant to vent my scorn, as a teacher and lover of the English language, on the way it is being mangled by a lot of new-fangled silliness and worse, what we call nyakami and dhong in Bengali. Not the first time I am writing in this vein, nor will this be the last. This post is meant only for those who share my love and respect.

These days it is not enough to talk about 'new' things any more - I suppose because novelties come a dime a dozen every day - so we must gush about 'newer' things: newer fashion wear, newer technology, newer political ideas. Likewise with 'lesser' (and the biggest culprits are journalists, who massacre the language out of both ignorance and careless hurry, probably knowing that it doesn't matter, since their readers are mostly as careless and distracted as they are): few people seem to know any more that less and lesser mean quite different things. 'My father earns less than me' is okay to say; so is, grammatically speaking, 'non-vertebrates are lesser creatures', meaning inferior; but 'I have lesser luggage than you' is meaningless. Nowadays, also, some people can only talk about 'older' people; simply calling us senior citizens 'old' supposedly 'hurts our feelings'. I don't know which morons think so, young or old, but I daresay most of our generation is too mature to be 'hurt' by such trivialities, thank you very much.

I have kept the very worst example for the last. In a recent interview, a journalist (yes, again) asked an elderly musician 'How young are you?' This beggars comment, so I shall leave it there, just hoping that none of my acquaintances ever use such English with me. I would be as offended as if someone referred to me as 'they' instead of he.

I am thankful to all those readers who have taken the page view count beyond 900,000, so that I can seriously look forward to crossing the million mark fairly soon. Some of them, I guess, have been with me for many years at a stretch: I shall be glad if they tell me so, even with one-line comments. Meanwhile, have a very happy New Year ahead, all.

Wednesday, December 27, 2023

Christmas week ruminations

Why have I not been writing? Several reasons, actually.

I am growing old, and slow.

I have been engrossed in reading a lot of very enjoyable books, the Maisie Dobbs series by Jacqueline Winspear among them (woman investigator cum psychologist in the early 1930s), besides having just finished the last of the Vish Puri books by Tarquin Hall, and In Search of Wales by H. V. Morton (famed for In Search of England, which is one of the loveliest books I have ever read - and that is saying something!)

I have been having fun, visiting my daughter's new digs in Kolkata. 

There are several dogs around to play with.

It feels unpleasant to sit in a cold room hammering away at the keyboard when I can sit out in the sun with coffee and watch the blue sky, the lush greenery all around, the cooing and chirping of so many birds and the flitting many-hued butterflies. And chatting with favourite old boys or going out walking with them in the late evenings after class.

I have already written so much that I sometimes feel scared that I might be repeating myself.

Readers have not obliged me by writing in to suggest ideas, things which I could write about with interest and knowledge.

In any case, in the Yuletide season, I wish peace on earth and joy to all men and women of goodwill. Who knows but this might be my last post of 2023.

Monday, December 04, 2023

Electoral augury

BJP comfortably voted into power in Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh and Chattisgarh, devastated in Mizoram, and Congress surprise victory (at least to me) in Telangana, trouncing both the BJP and the ruling BRS.

Lesson learnt - the BJP steamroller is not something the Congress can tackle single-handedly any more, except occasionally here and there under special circumstances, probably even less so at the national general elections next year, no matter what pipe dreams they might still be dreaming. 

I am not gloating. I have no reason to. I can neither forget that the Congress has been the root of all political evil in India since 1947 along with most of the good that has been achieved, nor that the BJP is doing a lot of things it shouldn't if it really has the long-term welfare of the country (meaning only the vast majority of ordinary people) in mind.

I speak only for democracy, and for democracy even to survive, a strong and coherent opposition that knows its own mind is absolutely essential. So, for the sake of democracy, I do hope that the Congress gets off its high horse and goes quickly into a real and meaningful electoral (as well as post-electoral) understanding with all the other major opposition parties, so that the BJP at least has to face a strong fight in the 2024 parliamentary elections, and is kept on its toes under the law and the Constitution after - as it seems very likely as of today - it is returned to power once more.

Remember: democracy has been said to be 'not the best, but the least bad of all systems of government known to man'. Destroying it leads inevitably to the reduction of vast numbers into unthinking, uncomplaining poverty, drudgery and servitude. The tragedy is that people start missing it most only when it is lost, and it invariably takes a lot of time, pain and loss to bring it back. 'Those who do not learn from history are condemned to repeat it'. 

Wednesday, November 29, 2023

Finished with ICSE 2024

As I wrote at about this time last year, I don't  feel much like writing a goodbye post for every outgoing batch any more these days. They can easily look up the several such posts I have written in the past, like this one, which haven't aged. That is not to say I did not enjoy my time with the latest batch: many of them were a genuine pleasure to teach, and show some promise as I understand promise, so while I live and still have my wits about me, I shall be glad to see them again and again. Meanwhile, as I have said already on my Whatsapp group, they might want to keep in touch especially through this blog, which I have always called an extension of my classroom.

I have been saying for donkey's years that I have always tried to hold on to some very idealistic, very old-fashioned notions about what education and teaching mean. Part of it relates to what I hope from my students: that they will see fit to keep in touch for ages, because they feel a) they got something of deep and lasting value here, and b) they still enjoy and benefit from my company. Quite a large number do, between ages 17 and 50: Abhishek Das, ICSE 2003, happily attended one of the last classes this year. The number, I am sure, could have been much larger if most parents did not drill into their children's minds that a teacher (or rather, tutor/instructor) loses his value as soon as their wards have sailed through some particular examination - and it does not help that most tutors are indeed worth nothing more - and if the children were not kept so permanently infantilized that even in late teenage or early adulthood they cannot dream of keeping in touch with someone without their parents' active encouragement and support. What a world we have made!

And that brings me to my greatest hope: that some of my students, when they have grown up and become parents and teachers themselves, will remember, if only because of a few people like me, what true education should consist of, and how it should be imparted. These days education, from pre-school to B-school level, has become one giant money spinning gig which packages learning in homogenized, merely utilitarian, easily digestible nuggets, to be swallowed, thrown up in exam halls and quickly forgotten. Those who 'succeed', it has been well said, are no better than circus animals trained to jump through hoops, good at nothing except taking examinations. It can at best produce only obedient, docile, unthinking herds in the name of good citizens (it makes me shudder to recall Auden's poem, The Unknown Citizen, written generations ago), and technical people who can only blindly follow standard operating protocols, whether they become teachers or surgeons, pilots or engineers. Even as fancy schools advertise not knowledge and reason and emotional training but air conditioned classrooms and swimming pools and CCTV equipped buses, and scream about how they are encouraging innovation and creativity, what they are actually doing is indoctrinating millions in utterly trivial and forgettable rote-learning, usually at vast expense, ensuring that genuinely bright, brave, original and experimental-minded people, the kind of people who take civilization forward, will become vanishingly rare. They will all be labelled as brilliant, and turn out to be conformist drudges; even tomorrow's 'talents' will be pygmies compared to the giants of yesteryears. Let a few children grow up to claim boldly that they know better, because they have had the good fortune to know some real teachers. I am grateful to quite a few such teachers myself, if mostly through books.

My love and best wishes to all who want and deserve it.

Monday, November 20, 2023

Police in Blunderland

It has been recently pointed out by some mindful and regular readers that I haven't written in quite a bit - three weeks, which is a long time by my own long-established standards. Guilty as accused - though most bloggers, after they have posted four or five items, can't think of another thing to say to save their lives, while I have been hammering away relentlessly at the keyboard  for seventeen continuous years, and there are more than 700 posts up there now. Anyway, the reasons are a) I wanted that last post to be on the top for some time, so that it might get a lot of eyeballs (which might translate into some much-needed donations), b) I couldn't think of something really interesting to me to write about (I don't gush over Cricket World Cups), and c) the older I grow, the more self-conscious I become about the unbearable crime of repeating oneself, as old people are only too apt to do.

Old boy Abhishek Das kindly sent me a new book which I found such good reading that I finished it in three days, in between attending to many other things. Police in Blunderland, written by retired senior IPS officer Bibhuti Dash - who, among other things, served for a large part of his career with the West Bengal Police. Dash has a number of excellent academic credentials, writes polished and racy English with a lot of highly literate allusions thrown in which most engineers will never recognize, sports a dry brand of humour interlaced with a lot of decent human sensitivity, and all the makings of a good raconteur who 'tells it like it is', rarely pulling any punches. Who says all our politicians and civil servants are ignorant and stupid? There are a lot of things I hugely enjoyed, such as when he berates Shashi Tharoor for 'daring' to call himself a Hindu without having gone to Hindu (College), when he talks about a maid who was skilled at BJP (Bartan-Jhaaru-Pochha), and when he explains why it is better by far to be a senior policeman's wife than a senior policeman. There is cynical gloom when he candidly admits that the police is shot through with corruption big and petty, and it has always been like that since at least medieval times, explaining why it is so, partly because of the hard-to-resist temptations galore, partly because it is a hoary tradition, partly because those who don't do it are regarded as inconvenient fools, and partly because all the countless recommendations for reform made by courts and inquiry commissions have been gathering dust for decades (though it seems I heard someone somewhere claiming that over the last nine years bhrashtachaar has been eliminated in this country). There is also sadness covered up with quiet bravado as he chronicles his current battle with cancer and pays tributes in the last pages to all those who helped him become who he was, from a bright classmate who dropped out early to follow in his father's footsteps to become a manual scavenger to a schoolteacher who coached and motivated him effectively to reach heights which would once have been unimaginable.

Good reading, as I said: to a lot of Indians and foreign readers alike it would be an eye-opener about what it means to live intelligently and empathetically in today's India, with all its 'pageantry, magic, comicality and pain'. Read it - a book like this deserves to be widely read, like Sudha Murthy's Wise and Otherwise. You can also visit and encourage Mr. Dash at his blog, b-b-dash.blogspot.com My salute to you as a fellow-citizen and teacher, Mr. Dash, and thank you, Abhishek, for giving me such a nice gift.

P.S.: The last time I read a good book written by a policeman in India was Goyendapeeth Lalbazar, which deserves to be translated into English: see this.

Saturday, October 28, 2023

Aashray for Animals

With reference to the baby dog that I wrote about in the last post, my heart aches to write that I am now quite unsure about whether I shall be able to save its life at long distance. Too many ifs and buts... whether they will feed him regularly as I have instructed, whether they will keep watch on that damaged leg, whether the poor baby can take it all. I ran around quite a bit to find out about medicines to give it, then was told that I am not allowed to send liquids by courier or post. I can only pray that those hotel people are going to feed it daily for a while, at least. I have little hope that they will take the trouble to find the medicines and administer them regularly ... if it dies, I shall forever hold myself at least partially responsible. Believe me, it's not a nice thought to think. Anybody have any ideas, or contacts at or near Bodh Gaya whom I can beg to help?

Searching desperately for help online while still in Bodh Gaya, I learnt about Durgapur Aashray for animals, an NGO based in DSP township, Durgapur (19/20, Vivekananda Road, A-Zone). Their work, as described through Google and Facebook, seemed wonderful, but I wanted to see  the shelter for myself before taking a major decision. So I visited them  on Thursday the 26th. And by God, even at this age, I can say that it was a life-changing experience. My faith in humankind has been very powerfully renewed. Good people do exist, though they are sadly few and far between.

Mrs. Chaitali Roy and her family (along with a few dedicated young friends) have given themselves heart and soul to rescuing seriously injured and sick animals - mainly dogs - and giving them food, medical care and a loving home. I very quickly made friends with several of the furry inmates. The situation was as heart-rending as it was heartwarming, paradoxical though that may sound. There was one dog with its front legs permanently broken and stuck skywards, which crawls around on its belly; several are semi-paralysed, and several run around on only three legs, or the front two, their behinds supported on wheels in a frame. But all of them seemed full of life, and quite clearly not miserable or moribund. The organisation regularly arranges for all sorts of medical and surgical procedures too, such as curing dermatitis and acute malnutrition as well as sewing up wounds, restoring prolapsed uteruses and removing ghastly tumours which are potentially fatal if left untreated, besides running a programme of spaying and neutering young animals, so that they do not keep breeding indiscriminately, leading to accidents of all sorts to themselves and humans alike: a problem which has grown increasingly acute all over this country, ever since governments stopped regular culling and sterilizing drives.

They are running a full house, and new animals in pathetic condition keep turning up at their door all the time, besides the ones they continually pick up from the roadside. They often have to turn away animals in desperate need simply because they can no longer cope with more (and for that, as I read on the net, they are abused by people who would themselves, I am sure, never raise a finger to help in any substantial way). They very badly need more resources - space, volunteers, money, everything. 'What can I do to help?' I asked, after making an initial donation (note, I raised the question: Mrs. Roy never mentioned money before I did). She told me that some people do help now and then; but it is far from enough. Simply feeding that many animals daily and adequately costs nearly Rs. 60,000 a month, leaving aside everything else they do, and it was quite evident that they are not rich, idle people indulging a whim. 

So I am begging - that's right, begging - all my friends, acquaintances, students, their parents and every reader - to start a campaign at least to raise funds for this organization, even if we can't do anything else. I myself have vowed to give something every month. Do please first visit their Facebook page (Aashray for Animals), watch some of the videos, 'follow' them, then click a few buttons on your phone. You can send money to the following bank account

Account Name: Durgapur Aashray for Animals, Account number: 919010042770523 (Axis Bank), IFSC: UTIB0000213,

or you can send it via Google Pay/PayTM/Phone Pe at the number: 9609600920.

Please donate with a loving soul and an open hand. And please spread the word around in your own circles ... the more help that comes, the more lives will be saved, the more sufferers lifted out of misery.

Now here are a few photos I took there






Wednesday, October 25, 2023

Heartbreak at Bodh Gaya

I spent the four pujo days as I had hoped to, far from the madding crowd, 300 km away in Bodh Gaya.

I left on the morning of Saturday the 21st (saptami) and returned in the afternoon of Tuesday the 24th (Dashami). I had taken along ma and Koushik, who needed a much needed break of relaxation from his hectic work schedule.

I won't write much about the sights and sounds, because I have written in detail about the last trip (Buddha Vihar), in February 2017 (I went again in September that year - I love the place). The road is for the most part in excellent condition. We took in Rajgir and Nalanda too. Everyone agreed that the ambience of the Mahabodhi temple ('main mandir') in Bodh Gaya and the Venuvan park in Rajgir were the nicest highlights. 

The hotel was the same as the one I had stayed in on both the previous occasions, and yet I could recognize nothing about it, not the location, not the structure, not the rooms. Small miracle which was left unresolved. The staff was lazy and highly disorganized but polite and obliging, the food was good and the sleep restful, so I have little to complain about. The sun was hot, but everywhere it was pleasant in the shade, and the nights were very comfortable even without the air conditioner going.

Absolutely the most memorable thing that happened was the little stray puppy with a broken leg which had taken shelter in the hotel garage. I fell in love at first sight, cuddled him night and day, and parting from him broke my heart - I have been in tears again and again till the time of writing. I taught the staff to give it the right kind of food, begged them to put the leg in a splint, left some money for its care, and my only prayer to the Buddha these last few days has been that the poor mutt might survive, heal and prosper. If I had been a rich man with an adequate service staff, I swear I'd have brought that puppy with me and given it a permanent home. As it is, I am planning to do something more lasting and worthwhile for all such abandoned, sick and injured dogs around me, starting off with visiting the sole animal care shelter in my town that I have just heard about in order to find out how I can help. Maybe some of you can join in?


The First Noble Truth the Buddha taught: Life is suffering. Indeed. For me, and for all those I love. Become non-attached, He said, and yet no one ever strained every nerve harder lifelong to teach us all to be more loving, to serve, to heal, to save... did He ever succeed in becoming non-attached enough not to hurt so badly for every living thing?

Wednesday, October 18, 2023

Turning sixty

I turned sixty yesterday. If I had still been serving at that school, they would have officially thrown me out yesterday itself. All I can say is, 'Thank God I quit early.' And so, from today onwards, I am officially a Senior Citizen, and a voluntarily-self employed person hereafter.

There was a wonderful birthday celebration. The last time it had happened was exactly half a century ago (my mother, who arranged that last one, is still around), and this time round I had shyly expressed a mild desire for some sort of do on this day in my Whatsapp group of favourite old boys and girls. Several of them took it very seriously, and arranged a fun event that I shall remember with relish and gratitude till my dying day. There was even a round of cake cutting, and gifts (the most precious of which, it goes without saying, was that so many of them, Pupu included, had made time out of their busy schedules to come over, even from Kolkata, just to be here with me). There was an intercontinental video chat in which several others, who could not physically attend, enthusiastically joined in. There was happy cheering, eating and drinking, and almost all of them stayed the night, so we had the best kind of adda till the wee hours. Few people who are not rich and powerful celebrities (whose special occasions are attended essentially by chamchas looking for undeserved favours!) get such special treatment to warm the cockles of the heart. I am grateful to all of them, but above all to Providence. 'Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good'....

I am serene and happy today. Feeling much, much more upbeat than I was ten years ago, when I turned fifty. (and you can go even further back into the past if you read Forty five and counting). Maybe for the time left to me, I can look forward to being less and less anxious about the future, having more and more time for loved ones, and watching their progress through life with ever more benign interest and helpful concern. Nothing would give me more pleasure anyway. But most of my life's work is done, and it was a fairly tough and challenging life, and I have dealt with it in a way that does not make me feel guilty or ashamed or inadequate. Now I am going to enjoy all the perquisites of old age, from getting a discount on my income tax bill to having to care less and less about household chores.

But, and I am reminding the Man Upstairs daily these days, I don't want to hang around for much longer than three score years and ten, and the three score is done already. 

One little girl, a current pupil, has wished me Happy Birthday along with the remark 'Not everyone can make sixty look like you do.' I am both grateful and very, very proud.  

Sunday, October 15, 2023

What nonsense!

I just posted something on my fun blog after more than a year. It is a little comment on Sukumar Ray's immortal nonsense classic Abol Tabol. Do look it up.

Monday, October 09, 2023

Childhood fun

Now that I am going to become a 'senior citizen' in a few days' time, I am dreaming more and more of things that I used to do for fun in my childhood days.

There were two brands of toothpaste that we used, Binaca and Colgate. The Binaca-s used to come with tiny rubber models of all kinds of animals, saving up which as toys was a bonus. Alas, while Colgate carries on bravely, Binaca has gone out of business. What I remember best is using the thin cardboard boxes that enclosed the toothpaste tubes to build make-believe buses, cutting open little rectangular doors and windows along the sides with a razor blade, and nicking myself sometimes while I was at it.

On mornings when I woke up with a thunderstorm raging outside and there was no compulsion to set off for school, I used to pile up pillows and bolsters around me on the bed and pretend to be a captain sailing his little ship across a wild and billowy sea. Those who have read some poems in Stevenson's Child's Garden of Verses (A good Play, My bed is a boat) will be able, perhaps, to share the thrill and joy that I felt, and still imagine can sometimes feel when the clouds roar and the rain falls in torrents at daybreak.

During school vacations my grandpa frequently left me at evenfall at the gate of Children's Little Theatre (aka Aban Mahal) close to our house in Gol Park Kolkata after buying me a ticket, and I spent a couple of enchanted hours watching children little older than me enacting wonderful fables on stage. Two of my perennial favourites were Jijo and Rooplekha (I still sing one of the ditties from the former, tupi chai tupi, and I managed to fall head over heels in love with two successive heroines who performed in the latter!)

One image that keeps coming back is digging a tunnel through wet mud with a friend in our garden, and the triumphant joy we felt when our fingers met underground. Great explorers discovering new countries could hardly have felt prouder of themselves.

Trying out new shoes (only once a year, at Pujo time, and only those which were to be worn to school) was a tickle like few others. The first time they came out of the box, I always put them on and walked about on my bed. And reading Tintin comic books... I have read them in e-book format, and watched all the movies, including the Spielberg stuff, but I would still like to curl up with one of those illustrated books,if only I didn't have every line and picture in every book by heart.

In two of the houses I lived in during our sojourn in DSP township, I could clamber up the walls to the roof, and there I was 'monarch of all I survey'. I spent many a happy autumn night sleeping on one of those roofs when I was in my early teens, after having rigged up a lamp hung from the chimney, and feeling like a great engineer over the achievement. At no other time have I felt so happy and full of vim waking up at sunrise, throwing off the dew-sodden coverlet and slipping downstairs before my mother's angry voice could summon me. 

Making portable fire-fountains (tubri) with a team of friends on the occasion of Diwali was pure bliss, but I have written about that before, so I won't repeat myself.

On winter afternoons my mother sat together with her friends on the outer verandah of one of the houses in the neighbourhood, while we children indulged in horseplay around them - it was quite like one large, happy family - and the highlight of the occasion was when the young peanut vendor arrived, his tiny ponytail swinging from his shiny shaven head, with his trademark cry which sounded to me like 'aye badambhay chanachurey....'. He put down his long wicker stool and doled out his wares, warm shelled peanuts roasted in sand, accompanied by hot dhania chutney served on large sal leaves, and we ate together with our hands, squabbling and squealing with pointless laughter: few five-star dinners have ever tickled my palate half as well. Which brings to mind the many chorui-bhaati s we organised, traditional neighbourhood picnics the likes of which today's kids will never know.

Even at 15, while reading for my secondary level board examinations, I went off after lunch with an air-pillow tucked into my schoolbag along with a textbook or two and took a bus to the railway station. I lounged the whole afternoon on a wooden bench on the thinly crowded platform, studying only occasionally and paying much more attention to the trains coming and going (some still drawn by thundering, steam belching iron dragons in those days); waited for the chaiwallah to wake up from his siesta and serve thirsty people like me, then came home. My parents, leave alone scolding or even objecting, hardly even bothered to ask: they must have been very funny people, but this weird habit did no harm to my examination results. Today's parents will probably die of shock just to imagine their children doing something like that.

So, on the whole, it wasn't such a bad childhood after all, though nostalgia rarely makes me feel sad. Good times, well enjoyed, and happily left behind.

If, Reader, you liked reading this, you might do me the kindness of wishing me a happy sixtieth birthday. It is due in eight days' time :)

P.S.: According to Google, there have been a thousand visits to this blog within two days. A personal record! In comparison, the number of comments is measly. How unkind (or at least insensitive) most people are... especially since I am the sort of person to whom people have come whining and snivelling and asking for all sorts of help or at least a ear to lend to their tales of woe or a shoulder to weep upon for ages and ages, and I have never been short of time for them. Maybe it has been well said that your rewards are waiting in heaven, and you should have very low expectations of your fellow man...

Thursday, September 28, 2023

Diamond Harbour and Bakkhali

Last Thursday the 21st I drove to Kolkata with Swarnava and my mother in tow, dropped ma off at her brother's place, picked up Pupu and Pratyush and went on to Diamond Harbour, followed by a trip to Bakkhali the next day, back to DH on Saturday, then back via Kolkata, dropping off Pupu and Pratyush, picking up ma, and home to Durgapur on Sunday. 600-plus km in all. 

The highway to Kolkata is being massively reconstructed, with umpteen new flyovers coming up: it will be a very smooth and fast ride once more soon, but for now it was rather slow and difficult going; the passage through Kolkata was interminable as usual because of the dense crawling traffic, and we couldn't go too fast along Diamond Harbour Road either, it being narrow and choc a bloc - though in excellent condition - so the trip took at least an hour and a half longer than it could have. But it was well worth it. At DH the Tourist Lodge called Sagorika was a dream haven, as we had found it twice before, in 2011 and 2017, what with its beautiful panoramic view of the river, its swank rooms, the delectable food and the very friendly and obliging staff. The gusty wind, though warm and damp, and squalls of rain now and then were a bonus. The drive to Bakkhali was short and nice (now that they have built a bridge at Namkhana), and the Tourist Lodge (Balutot) was lovely. We lunched at a very homely streetside bangali eatery where the ambience, along with the owner-cum-waiter clad in a gamchha, his torso bare, reminded me strongly of Bibhutibhushan's Adorsho Hindu Hotel. The Lodge staff there, however, was very cold and uninviting, and we couldn't get rooms for another day, so it was back to Sagorika, where I got a suite which was, in one word, luxurious: all of us spent most of the day and half the night lounging in it. During the drive back to Durgapur, we were caught in very heavy rain for a bit, but spent that time lunching. No mishaps, except that I caught a bad cold. Firoz got a room to himself each night, and Swarnava was thrilled that he didn't have to put up with that awful snoring. Yes, it was a splurge, but these days I live for this sort of thing, and only wish I had the time and wherewithal to take along a much larger group of intimates, which would greatly multiply the fun.

Much of my fun came from quietly looking at, and listening to, the children's chatter. (I call them children, though they are in their twenties, and they spent a considerable amount of time attending to scholarly and professional work - but they grew up before my eyes, and I had a hand in the way they have grown up, so the pleasure is beyond words, mixed with wonder. Besides, they also relentlessly pulled one another's legs, guffawed over silly jokes and built a sand castle on the beach...). We sat on the sand in wet clothes watching the waves until the sun went down and the wind began to make our teeth chatter. I sang a succession of songs to myself, and communed with my Maker, giving up thanks for the myriad blessings I have been granted. For young Pratyush, it was the first overnight trip with us: I hope he will have lasting and fond memories. That, above all, is what I have tried to give to all whom I have loved.

Three-quarters of the year is over already! Now Durga pujo is coming. I hope I can run away somewhere outside Bengal - unless Pupu comes over to stay with me.

A few photos can be seen here. More on Google if you just type "Tourist Lodge" Diamond Harbour or Bakkhali.

Friday, September 15, 2023

Becoming 'creative' in school!

I was laughing and grimacing over the so-called New Education Policy recently with some of my more intelligent and well-informed old boys. There is nothing really 'new' about the policy: it is just a mish-mash of ill-coordinated, incoherent, rehashed ideas which have been suggested by numerous policy declarations before, and either never worked, or worked poorly, or proved to be self-defeating (such as the 'new' emphasis on vocational courses and replacing English with vernaculars as medium of teaching). What I have found truly laughable is the apparently new stress on encouragement of independent, critical, original thinking in the classroom. Let me lay out what I have learnt about the whole teaching-learning process over a lifetime in this context (our policy makers never consult dedicated, competent, well-grounded teachers when they throw out their brilliant brainwaves! so I have always wondered where they get their ideas from)...

Independent, original, critical thinking is not even relevant to many subjects which are taught at school. How can you be independent and original and creative when you are learning chemistry and history? Basically you have to memorize a lot of hard facts (such as dates and names) and techniques (such as balancing equations): there's never been any way around it. If you can't do that, and retain what you have memorized beyond examinations, you just don't know chemistry and history, period. And your mathematics teacher might occasionally challenge you by asking you to solve riders or work out a new way to prove a theorem, but try to be too creative and start writing three squared equals six, and you will flunk. 

Nowhere does school-level education offer greater scope of creativity than while learning a language (explain in your own words... write an original story ... what in your opinion was this character like as a human being?...), but what do we actually see happening in thousands of even so-called 'elite' schools? Let us face it: they stopped even trying to teach how to write long ago (that is why they now take 'creative writing' classes at college- and university level) - truth is, most schoolteachers themselves cannot write a decent essay impromptu to save their lives! -  and where literature is concerned, thousands of my readers will concur that their schoolteachers used to insist that while answering questions, it was imperative that they regurgitate lines crammed from their texts, word by word; nothing else was required of them, and 'don't you dare say the same thing in your own way'. All examinees should write identical answers in literature exactly as they would in chemistry. It is these creatures, these 'teachers', who will now be told to 'teach' their wards to be independent-minded, original, and creative in the way they think. Can anyone describe the situation better than with words like 'farce' or 'black comedy'?

One last thing. Which genius came up with the notion that everybody can be independent and original and creative? That we can 'produce' Newtons and Tagores and Beethovens by the million by schooling them? I should like to meet him alone in a dark alley some day...

Sunday, September 10, 2023

Tech companies, CEOs and liberal arts

After my daughter got her BA in history, she decided to attend a one-year post graduate course in liberal studies, to which I gladly concurred, and we are both very happy about the experience she had.

This recent article in The Telegraph says why liberal studies are increasingly important in today's world, and you should read the whole thing closely. But I especially draw attention to the list provided by the authors of CEOs of giant modern high-technology companies who have degrees in the liberal arts (not engineering, mind you), including, prominently, history and English (see the third paragraph). I do NOT think, given everything I have written on matters educational before, that I need to add any comment of my own here. Do read.

I wish the parents who are still pushing their kids mindlessly into 'signs' studies so that they might somehow land low-level IT jobs could read and understand this article. There would be an instant revolution in India!  

Tuesday, September 05, 2023

Teachers' Day 2023

Teachers' Day in India. Since last midnight I have been inundated with goodwill messages, pronaam, cakes, sweetmeats and gifts. This would have been my last 'Teachers' Day' if I had been a school employee, so thank God I quit long, long ago. It is a season for reflection, though...

Every year something memorable happens on this day. This time round I think the prize goes to Prodipto Mukherjee, St. Xavier's Durgapur, ICSE 1996 batch, who called after a gap of 27 years to tell me how well he remembers my classes, and how thankful he is, and how much he has benefited and is trying to pass on to his son, now in class 8. That is the only way teachers can feel good about themselves, and truth to tell, I have had plenty to be happy about. I only wish it was plentifuller! and that people did not take that long to get back. Shivapriya from the 2004 batch visited a few months ago, husband and pooch in tow, and I told her the same thing. It is also a pleasing thing to note that the Whatsapp group I started with a few of my old boys and girls turned two today, and is going strong: I have managed to nudge friendships among several young and not-so-young people, which has always been one of the things I have wanted to do.

I wrote a post titled vanaprastha here very recently (though I find that too is already two years old!), and I am going to become a senior citizen next month. It seems to me that I have been teaching all along, and what haven't I taught, from helping one of my own teachers to write out her B.Ed. notes to summarizing the paper on jurisprudence for a judge who was trying for the third time to get his LlM degree to French and Economics and History and the Indian Constitution, and English, English, English all through the last 36 years. Yet over and above this subject and that, preparing students for this examination and that, I have always tried to inculcate certain values, for my ideals have never been mere instructors but men like Socrates and Confucius and the Buddha and Vidyasagar and Russell. I wonder if I have had much success with many people.

What values, you may ask? Well, those which I instinctively found to be  important for both individual and collective civilization, for making this world a better place to live in, and were later confirmed from personal experience as well as the testaments of the thinkers I most came to respect. Many of these values were concretized through the literature course work that I covered with my students ... so I was always learning and thinking even as I worked for a living (not too many men have the good fortune to do that)! Values like punctuality, hard work, meticulous attention to details, keeping promises, courtesy, consideration, kindness of the tough-love sort, despising the merely rich, caring for the needy, healthy and polished humour rather than the toilet-sort, a certain contempt for 'what people are saying' and so never justifying one's actions and opinions with reference to the herd, the right kind of humility (as distinct from servility to people in power - from parents to political leaders and celebrities), self-discipline, respect and love for things of the spirit (knowledge rather than marks and livelihood, justice, music, poetry, art, charity, imagination)... and I have all along tried to teach by example, my own and (knowing full well that I am far from my own ideal) those of others vastly better than me. 

I shall go on insisting till my last breath that without the wide spread of such values, no amount of advanced technology and material wealth will spell real 'progress' for humankind; indeed, they might well spell our doom.

As I realized early in life, I was not fit for many things. I don't think I could have made a good politician, or business manager, or doctor or policeman or judge. So I thank Providence every day that it allowed me to do just what I could do best for so long, and also to make a decent living out of it. On Teachers' Day, therefore, I have reason to be pleased with the way my life has turned out. As for the rest, kyun hua, kab hua, kaise hua... woh chhoro, woh na socho. From that attitude alone can come peace. And what can one in my position in life want more than peace?  

Monday, August 21, 2023

A rather bad August


My apologies to those readers who have been waiting impatiently for the next post. My mother has been ill for more than a week now - fever every day and endless tests unable to confirm what exactly is wrong with her, so we, Pupu and I, have been both harried and worried. Just brought her home from the hospital today, but she is still very weak, and has been advised complete bed rest, than which there could be no worse punishment for her.

The previous week, though, we had a grand time. Another three-day break with a road trip starting Thursday the 10th to Mandarmoni. First time I stayed there instead of Digha, and it's certainly a much quieter place, though the approach road from Shankarpur onwards is in a deplorable condition. We stayed in a pet friendly resort, so Bheblu enjoyed herself. Lucky dog - within the first two years of her life she has seen both mountain and sea! Swarnava was with us, his first trip with Pupu didi, and we had great fun commenting over road and shop- names. We passed by Patna and Mirzapur, I kid you not, and a restaurant called The Second Wife, and a resort called Lonachatar, and a village called Chorpaliye, seeing which Swarnava said we should expect the next hamlet to be called 'Buddhi baare' (I hope Bengalis at least will get the joke). Most of the road was in excellent condition, even the part through the villages adjoining Panchal forest, and the national highway segment from Kharagpur to Belda was a smooth, eight-lane dream. I drove quite a bit, and the drive back on Saturday involved being caught and stopped by a very heavy shower in the afternoon, followed by a thrilling drive through a forest in the dark. Otherwise, as usual, good eating, chatting and sleep, three lovely days in good company and no work...

Read a couple of good books, too. Rebels against the Raj, the new book by Ramachandra Guha, very engrossingly sketches the lives and works of seven Europeans who turned into Indians heart and soul, loved India, and fought against the worst excesses of British rule at great cost to their self-interest. I keep lamenting that there are far too few Indians like that around. The Christie Affair, by Nina de Gramont, published in 2022, is a gripping book of fiction about what might have transpired during the eleven days in 1926 when Agatha Christie went missing, and after coming back, insisted for the rest of her life that she 'couldn't remember'. Very well written indeed, even though the plot is rather far-fetched, and the author has taken liberties with historical facts which would not have been allowed in a sterner age.

Now the horrible sultriness is killing us. We must endure this for another two months at least...

Sunday, July 30, 2023

Madness unchained and rampaging

A couple in West Bengal has been nabbed recently for having sold off their baby in order to buy an expensive mobile phone and go travelling to tourist hotspots.

What am I supposed to think?

Some people will say, These folks are insane... or too lower class to know anything about decent feelings... these are isolated acts of horror committed by very unusual people, so nothing much to bother about: we are different, and far more civilized, and know better.

I am not sure. Maybe I have seen and thought too much. I can't see very much difference between these people and the millions of 'educated' and 'sane' parents all around me who have driven it deep into the minds of their teenage children that they are only born to make money, and should never think of doing anything that diverts them ever so little from that solitary aim, or people who have never learnt to judge others by any index other than how much money they make (not necessarily earn) and how much of luxury goods they consume.

Civilized people were always rare: I have never had any illusions about that. Today, however, I think that even the meaning of the word has been forgotten, leave alone the need for it. Look at the language politicians and advertisers use. Most people around me no longer understand why it should hurt so much... 

On a not too different note, I was briefly much enthused by a book of fictionalized history in Bengali given to me by Pupu, one about Maharana Kumbha of Mewar. But then I found that the author has made Kumbha the husband of Mirabai, and I could not read any more. Maybe even among so-called educated people, ignorance, combined with a total indifference to facts, has gone so deep that authors do not need to know even basic things about reality any more. And to think that such things can happen in the era of Google, Wikipedia and ChatGPT, when all kinds of knowledge is supposedly just a few clicks away!

P.S.: Pupu has visited and gone off to Delhi again for a bit, and I think I have become a good enough guardian for Bheblu.  

Friday, July 07, 2023

This blog for students

One of the many ways in which I have been disappointed with this blogging experience is that I thought it would become an extension of my classroom, so that many current pupils as well as ex students, and perhaps some who have not studied with me, would have resources available to them beyond what I can do in my classroom. Unfortunately, most youngsters who pass through my classes 'find no time' or too little interest to become serious readers.

I keep telling all my wards that writing an essay is the hardest thing they have to learn in school (because you can depend not at all on memorization, which is otherwise about the only skill they learn in all other classes), and right from childhood they have been taught literally nothing about this art, so they remain woefully deficient, and will go on being so all their lives, unable to express their ideas and opinions coherently, articulately and persuasively, in their personal as well as social and working lives, and that will be a major handicap which they will rue for years to come. I read out good essays to them, ask them to edit bad ones, dictate model essays, and urge them non-stop to keep writing their own, which, under meticulous guidance, is the only way they will ever learn. Most avoid it; the few who try do it half-heartedly, only once in a while, seem to learn very little from mistakes strenuously and repeatedly pointed out (look up three earlier posts, titled Writing an essay), and that is good enough to get absurdly high marks in their board examinations, which is all they and their parents (well, at least 95% of them anyway) care about. Thus they grow up into degree-holding yet linguistically challenged adults, who can only stay quiet or scream abuse  in the name of debate: witness everything from what goes on in Parliament these days, to the kind of 'arguments' that take place on twitter. I never could make my wards either well-informed or well able to express themselves.

Yet at least the ICSE school examination board seems to be doggedly (and forlornly-) determined to go on testing this skill, setting topics that need, besides a decent grasp of language, considerable general knowledge and the capacity to think deeply and organize those thoughts systematically. Animals should not be used in drug development research, Democracy is the best form of government, Private tuition is a necessary evil, Moral Science is the most important subject taught in school, Describe your first parachute jump, Narrate what happened after your aircraft developed engine trouble in flight, Mobile phones deaden social life... any adult will admit that unless one has had long training, one cannot write sensible essays on such subjects even if you have a college degree. And exactly like basic math, this is a skill which, if well cultivated, will benefit you lifelong.

So here's urging my old boys and girls, as well as those who are currently paying me for tuition, to make better, more frequent use of this blog: if nothing else, it will help you to think and write (or speak) better on myriad subjects. And who knows, given that there are so many different kinds of posts, including those tagged under travel and humour and stories, it might entertain you too. Why stay glued to just YouTube and Instagram?

Wednesday, June 28, 2023

Too many 'wokes' around?

The currently in-vogue meaning of the word 'woke' (which was, traditionally, just the past participle of the verb 'wake') is 'one who is keenly and actively attentive as well as empathetic to important societal facts and issues', such as racial- or gender-prejudice and injustice. Wikipedia tells me it is derived from African-American vernacular English. And the number of 'wokes' is rapidly proliferating not only in the Anglo-American world but also, apparently, among the urban, well-heeled, English-educated Indian elite under the age of forty.

Now I trust I have been more than commonly aware and empathetic about all kinds of social injustices, but I cannot help thinking that these people are overdoing things, and making laughing stocks of themselves at best, or making a lot of enemies at worst. Look at the way they insist these days, for instance, that you cannot say 'chairman' and 'chairwoman', because that is sexist, and not even 'chairperson' (what was wrong with that?) but merely 'chair': so these days someone is just Chair of the department of physics, chair of the inquiry commission, and I can never stop laughing when I wonder whether they say 'The Chair sat on his chair'! If only they could at least be consistent with their own usage! Even Americans go on saying 'Congresswoman' Jane Smith said so, not 'Congress' Jane Smith, mind you, which is what should be said if we follow the same rule... and, since we must bow to the sensitivities of a lot of unusual people these days, we must use the plural they for individuals when in saner days we would have said either 'he' or 'she'. What about the sensibilities of people like me, who wince every time they have to use a plural along with a singular? What is wrong with 'it', which our teachers long ago taught us was neutral gender? No no, that would be pejorative, even offensive.

Which brings me to another point: many of these 'wokes' insist, on the one hand, following Salman Rushdie I suppose, that 'nobody has a right to be offended', but, if my reading experience serves me well, it seems they themselves are among the most thin-skinned. They are capable of taking offence at virtually everything you do. Of late I see my newspaper is running a campaign exhorting people to be more thoughtful and careful about not unnecessarily hurting others' feelings by saying 'insensitive' things, like 'You know a lot of science for a commerce graduate', 'You are very punctual for a Bengali', or 'You are very strong for a girl'. For heaven's sake, doesn't it occur to these blockheads that one might be merely joking, or even paying a compliment, besides stating things which have long been known to be true (such as that Bengalis are notoriously unpunctual?). Has it occurred to them, moreover, that all normal conversation would grind to a halt if we have to monitor and filter every sentence we utter? In saner times, we sometimes laughed back, or grimaced, or came back with a biting rejoinder if we were clever enough - and then simply moved on!

More and more it seems to me that too few people have anything worthwhile to do with their time, besides having become incurably obtuse. I have heard that in some countries it is now perfectly alright for even pre-teen students to show the teacher the middle finger, but God help the wretched teacher who dares even to scold them for such gross misbehaviour - for the whole might of the woke-powered state would be commandeered to teach him a lesson in sensitivity towards the freedom and rights of children! In my time we should have been caned, then our parents told to chastise us further or else. And I am deeply thankful I grew up in such an era. Now, even in this country, teachers and schools and examination boards are falling over themselves to convince every schoolgoer that s/he is highly talented and absolutely brilliant, so everyone deserves to score 90%-plus in exams; the many thousand-year old and highly realistic way of grading them into 'Extraordinary-good-average-poor-hopeless' is going out of the window (the fact that most of them are going to end up being delivery boys, shop attendants, mechanics and clerks of various hues in ill-paid and dead end jobs after having been certified as brilliant all through school will not, of course, hurt their self-esteem). According to the latest 'science', children who have been reprimanded or given poor scores grow up severely maimed and warped mentally. I cannot see that I have been so harmed, nor can the closest of my friends. And that's one last thing: these days 'science' can apparently be harnessed to support any stupid idea that sounds avant garde. The way things are going on, it won't be long before the sacred name of 'science' is ruined beyond redemption and turned into a poor joke by too many people who don't understand it.

And then one turns around to face the other aspect of contemporary reality: authoritarian and orthodox-minded regimes all over the world are doubling down and reviving or reinforcing age-old, utterly stupid, highly unjust prejudices and superstitions, apparently with the support of large majorities: Newton's third law asserting itself in the social sphere? As a great author said, we only have a choice of nightmares.

Monday, June 19, 2023

Hiring for beggars... sorry, teachers!

First, Bankura University and then Viswabharati have posted situations vacant ads for teachers to be hired on contract (meaning on a purely temporary basis with no benefits) at ridiculous salaries - a couple of hundred rupees per class, ten to twenty classes per month - which have raised a brief storm on the internet. Now I find that storm rather disingenuous, if not downright dishonest and silly. 

It has been true for a long, long time that, along with paying lip service to teaching as a 'noble' profession which 'builds the nation', we have always looked down on real-life teachers and paid them a pittance in terms of both money and respect. There is no better proof of this than the fact that many of the teachers who taught my grandfather's generation had to live like beggars and were never consulted by policymakers on anything that could mean 'nation-building', and many bright young people of my father's generation gave up teaching jobs for better ones in business and industry simply to make a tolerable living. Then, around the turn of the century, teachers' salaries - much more for college teachers than schoolteachers, though - were somewhat improved, but far from enough to attract the brightest and most dedicated to this profession, as I have seen all my working life as a teacher: hardly any of my good students have even considered teaching as an option, especially teaching in school, where, as I hold, 90% of all that is truly vital in education is imparted (as all the greatest minds, including Tagore, Russell and Vivekananda have agreed). I myself gave up the schoolteacher's job quite simply because the pay was so poor that without the option of private tuition on the side, I would have faced poverty after retirement.

Now what has been happening over the last at least four decades is that the set image of teaching as a relatively 'easy', unchallenging and 'secure' job which nevertheless offers some 'bhodrolok' status at the lower end of the scale (as opposed to, say, truck drivers who might earn much more but are 'chhotolok') has drawn vast numbers of the absolute dregs of humanity into this profession. Those who were simply no good for anything else, those who were laziest, least knowledgeable, least committed and most clueless became teachers by the hundred thousand (I am speaking a very inconvenient and unpalatable truth here, but truth it is). Add to that the fact that in millions of middle class families, schoolteaching has been considered one of the few 'safe' and 'permissible' jobs for females, and anyone who had a master's degree, however worthless, could become one, if only one could flatter and bribe the right people. Makes for a ghastly mix, doesn't it? The results are there for all to see, so I won't belabour them, but the fact remains that no one addresses the elephant in the room: the fact that private tuition has become near-universal and is considered absolutely essential right from middle school if not earlier for anyone who can afford it. I have been saying this publicly for a long time now - those who can teach become private tutors, those who cannot stay in school.

Nothing suddenly shocking is happening now; things are merely touching a nadir. Imagine: the job advertisers are confident that they are going to find enough young people with master's degrees who have cleared the NET or got a PhD  and are eager to fill those pathetic posts, 'teaching' jobs which bring in less than my driver and my cook make. (Meanwhile it has now become common knowledge that countless young people are openly bribing officials for jobs in government schools or working in private schools for sums that are too pitiful to be openly mentioned). Then imagine, how low the self-esteem of those job applicants must be, how little their confidence in their own knowledge and ability, how desperate their desire for a 'safe' and 'respectable' job, how lacking in ambition they are, that they would deign even to think of applying for such jobs. And then imagine what kind of teachers they will make, what they will do for and to their students! It gives me nightmares...

You could read this post in tandem with an older one, What price education? which I notice has just come into the most-read list again. And my profoundest salutations and apologies to those truly dedicated souls, few and far between as they are, who continue to give of their best as good teachers, despite the humiliation and privation lifelong. I have never been able to figure out what makes them tick: committed to doing my work to the best of my ability as I have always been, I have also been entirely professional about it, always. I teach because it feeds my family decently.

Wednesday, June 07, 2023

Endless summer

We are in the midst of the third 'heat wave' in West Bengal this summer, and it simply goes on and on and on. The real monsoon, of course, never starts before mid-July, but officially at least we get to know that on the first of June it has arrived in Kerala, so that we can expect its formal arrival in this state in about ten days after that, even if only to grace us with a token shower or two. This time round the monsoon has officially halted somewhere around the Andamans and has been stuck there for the last fortnight, with the Met having no idea when it will finally deign to start moving northwards again. So there is not even hope to sustain us through the gruelling heat. Even the occasional thundershowers that relieved us through May seem to have decided to go on strike...

After two and a half months of working every single day I took a two-day break and made a quick trip to Mukutmanipur with two old boys, Sahnik the newly-minted doctor and Swarnava, on his way to becoming a high-energy physicist (good fiction writer too, God willing). We ate well and slept well, but that is about all that can be said, because it was baking hot from eight in the morning till nearly midnight. My mother - God bless her strength and spirit - made a round trip to Digha without mishap, and she at least enjoyed it thoroughly, the weather by the sea being apparently much better. I don't know whether I should envy her. Given a different roll of the dice, I would have spent the entire summer somewhere lush above 6000 feet.

And now, to add to our woes, our street in particular is in the throes of incessant power outages and voltage fluctuations. An overloaded transformer burst, and we stewed for twelve hours straight, starting from 2 a.m. The replacement was quick, but has not apparently solved the problem fully. Yesterday I shepherded a few seriously-old local residents (the sort of dodderers who still regard me as a young man!) on a deputation to the Station Manager of the WBSEDCL Customer Service Centre. The lady at least heard us out politely, and accepted our written plea to do something urgently and prevent further misery. Let us see whether things improve, and how soon.

Meanwhile, I am soldiering on, and asking readers yet again to suggest things they want me to write about. Right now, I can't think of a thing by myself... as Sukumar Ray wrote long before all this ballyhoo about global warming and climate change began to be heard, 'raja boley brishti naama, noile kichhui milchhe na'!

Monday, May 22, 2023

Strengthening democracy

When I think about things we can do to ensure that democracy survives, improves and flourishes in India throughout the foreseeable future, the following, it seems to me, have become absolutely urgent.

 

We should drastically amend the Representation of the Peoples Act and other basic laws to provide that

1.      Political parties cannot proliferate endlessly, with almost indistinguishable manifestos and differentiated only by their leaders who fight and drift apart from mother parties to satisfy their own egos, ambitions and narrow interests,

2.      Make the Election Commission a truly powerful and impartial body, supervised by Parliament alone (with a strong voice for the opposition which the ruling party cannot steamroll), which will monitor all political activity of all parties and not only just before and after elections,

3.      Parties must be commitment bound to deliver on at least most of their pre-election promises or resign from power, and no party may criticize government policies which it itself espoused strenuously while in power,

4.      Electoral constituencies must have the power of recalling their representatives at any time after the first year if they turn out to be duds, frauds or downright criminals,

5.      Serious and repeat offenders of a criminal nature (which must include election fraud) must be permanently barred from standing for elections,

6.      All parties must fully and honestly publicize their sources of funding, itemized in case of all large donations, and parliament and courts must stringently monitor which donors are being unlawfully favoured when those parties are in power,

7.      All legitimately recognized parties must be publicly funded, at least up to 80% of their needs, and allow compulsory audit of their finances.

8.      The Constitution must be amended to spell out very specific rules about how elections and politics may be done, and the High and Supreme courts must exercise unceasing, strict and minute supervision over the whole process, perhaps assisted by a public ombudsman.

9.      Illegitimate, coercive muscle power must be removed from the political arena by an all-round consensus among all contending parties. Investigative agencies must not function at the whim and behest of executive authority, but only under parliamentary and court supervision, with stringent media oversight.

10.  The mass media must commit themselves to genuinely fearless, probing, analytical and impartial reporting,

11.  Accredited, well-respected, well educated social workers must be encouraged to join politics en masse after they have made their reputations in their chosen fields of service,

12.  The well-off elite with time and leisure on their hands must be encouraged likewise to join public service, so that they are not easily lured by the temptation of misgoverning to make big bucks quickly for themselves and their kin.

13.  All political parties whose agenda openly spread lying and hateful fiction about their perceived ‘enemies’ in society must be put beyond the pale, once and for all, whether they are on the left or right, religious or atheistic, whether they are feminists or misogynists, casteists and vegans or those who want to kill casteists and vegans.

14.  Civil society NGOs with good and long-standing reputations must be strongly encouraged to take a hand in the political process (in this context, read this article).

15.  All elected leaders, from town councillors to PMs, as soon as they start behaving like kings and despots, must be summarily removed from office as soon as a minimum number of genuine complaints have been registered, which may vary from 100 in case of a panchayat pradhan to 100,000 for a prime minister.

16.  Since the permanent rather than elected executive actually runs the day to day administration and deals with all citizen needs, requests and demands (sarkari naukars, from the peon right up to the department IAS secretary), and since they have acquired a deep, abiding and countrywide reputation for being incompetent, unwilling, grossly unhelpful and venal on the whole, all political parties must come together to remove or cure this scourge once and for all – a sarkari naukar will work hard according to well defined standards day in, day out round the year all his working life, to be judged only by his clients and supplicants, or be first warned, then suspended, then dismissed, and finally in extreme cases jailed. There is no other way of clearing this particular Augean stable without making a frightening example of a few tens of thousands of careers and lives ruined. It has gone on for far too long.

17.  Voter education must be made a very serious and compulsory part of school education right from class 6 to 12, so that when they start choosing their candidates, they may not vote like ignorant or brainwashed idiots (as even most college graduates do in this country). This ‘education’ must clearly teach growing generations what they should ask of their elected representatives, as well as what they should not ask or expect.

18.  Much more power should be devolved down to the states, and further onwards to the lower units of local self government, so long as they commit formally that they are all going to obey the Constitution, never dream of seceding, and accept a minimum template of duties and commitments to the voters that has been set by higher levels of government – indices that can be constantly monitored, measured and commented upon, like crime rates and literacy rates and employment rates and pollution levels, to mention just a few.

19.  Absurd, out of date and utterly anti-democratic laws like the sedition act must be repealed and thrown into the dustbin of history. Every citizen must be free and unafraid to air his views on any subject of public concern, as long as her views are reasonable and informed.

20.  Learning from the best practices of all nations which are widely recognized as successful democracies must be made mandatory for all who dream of being our future leaders.

 

Achieving all this will take time, but a beginning must be made, now. Even ten years later it might be too late, and democracy might dissolve into first anarchy and then autocracy, as it has often done in many countries.

Achieving all twenty of the above will be very hard, and all of them may never be fully achieved. Also, in the off chance that they are indeed all achieved, it still won’t make for a perfect democracy – nothing is ever perfect, certainly not something as complex and messy as a democracy of such gigantic proportions – but India will certainly become a much better place to live in.

The whole question is whether a sufficient number of intelligent, wise, civic minded citizens are at all keen enough to preserve and improve democracy in India. From what I have seen over a period of nearly fifty years of observation and reflection – I have been politically conscious from a very early age – I fear that that might not be the case. If that is true, democracy in India is doomed, and, despite being one who is painfully aware of the drawbacks of democracy, I would opine that that would be a disaster for almost all of us.

One last word.  I first wrote out a similar list of desiderata in 1987 to help out a friend who was going to sit for the UPSC examinations. Thirty six years on, I have found little reason to make major changes in the list – indeed, I wrote this one out almost off the cuff. Shows both how little India has changed in the intervening years as much as how stable my own opinions have remained.

[It should be obvious to any mindful reader that I do not side blindly with any single existing political party or ideology. For instance, much that the TMC or BJP are currently doing might be wrong or bad or simply misguided, but I know and remember too much of the CPIM and Congress eras to imagine naively that everything will be hunky dory if only they can return to power, having learnt nothing about honest and good governance in the intervening years out in the wilderness]

Monday, May 15, 2023

Mid-May diary entry

Thank God I still find youngsters delightful and invigorating on the whole, after more than forty years with them. One little boy, who has barely attended six classes, made my day yesterday by whispering conspiratorially to me on his way out: 'Sir, your classes are very interesting!'

The second heat wave of the year was grilling us over the last week, but today there was a magnificent thundershower following a dust storm, nor'wester style, and it is now blessedly cool as I write, with a gentle breeze blowing. The pleasure never seems to pall...

I asked my readers a couple of questions in the last post, and I was waiting for a few answers. Sad that I haven't received any yet.

I think I have had to give up on my swimming sessions at last. They had been becoming increasingly infrequent over the last few years, and I now dislike the long lonely drives too much, given our bad roads and extremely unruly traffic, to keep going. One of my dearest wishes - a pool in my own neighbourhood - is never likely to be fulfilled. 

The ICSE results have come out once more, for the tenth time since my daughter passed. The less said about them the better, but I have given my freshest batch of ex students something to think about by drawing their attention to the post titled ICSE 2013 and us. I hope it will mean something to them and their juniors. Serious readers might also look up a book review titled Those who love, if only to find out what 'education' meant 200+ years ago, and reflect how far we have regressed. 

I have been watching how democracy has been working (or faltering...) in India and many other countries, and thinking for a long time about what we need to do to put it back on a strong footing with a future to look forward to. Perhaps I shall make a little essay out of it in the next post. Keep visiting.

Tuesday, May 02, 2023

Caesar, language, books and old classes

The fact that my daughter has got me hooked on a series of fictionalized history based on the life of Julius Caesar could not have come at a better time: I am going to deal with Shakespeare's Caesar in my classes again, and I am being considerably re-educated. Conn Iggulden has taken great liberties with history as it is recorded, even when it is not absolutely certain, but he makes superb reading, and I hope to get at least a handful of current pupils interested, if I am assured that they have attained at least basic literacy.

April went dry and blisteringly hot, but we were blessed with a strong shower on the very last evening, and then again today, though only briefly. So the last 'heat wave' is only a nasty memory already, and we are bracing for the next one. But I have lived through rainy and balmy Mays, so there's no harm on hoping that the weather gods might be kind again.

I have been reading back what I wrote about turning fifty ten years ago, and wondering what I should write on my sixtieth birthday, in October. Any suggestions from old and fond readers?

This year is also significant in that I wrote To My Daughter exactly twenty years ago.

With reference to the previous post, my thanks to those who cared to reply here and in our Whatsapp group called 'Suvro Sir's intimates'. It makes me feel good. I hope it will be remembered at least in some circles, by at least a few hundred people, that I loved and adored the English language, not merely made a living out of it, and it was that love that gave me whatever good I had in me as a teacher. Would some of my ex students reading this post care to tell me what they miss most about my classes, and what they would have liked to have more of while they were attending my classes?

I shall also be grateful if some of you gave me ideas about what to write about next, things that I might be capable of writing and interested too.

A special thanks to Saikat for coming back to the post titled Fafaia yet again.