Explore this blog by clicking on the labels listed along the right-hand sidebar. There are lots of interesting stuff which you won't find on the home page
Seriously curious about me? Click on ' What sort of person am I?'

Sunday, March 31, 2024

Page views, books and horrible weather

More than 50,000 page views in just three months. Either the Google counter has lost its mind, or something extraordinary is happening.

The old post No women please, I am an MCP, has recently come up to the top of the most-read list. I hope the readers have the intelligence and the sensibility to realize that it was written somewhat tongue in cheek, and would do me the favour of reading the numerous comments that came in. How I miss the deluge of comments that older posts used to fetch. But of course, this is the era of Instagram reels and semi-literate PhD holders and five-second attention spans, so I guess I can hardly expect comments beyond emojis, which I do not accommodate. So be it. I shall continue to write primarily for my own satisfaction. However, a few comments on my recent blogposts from old boys did make me wish that we could have a tete-a-tete. It's been such a long time for most of them.

The horrible summer has descended rather abruptly on us. Late last night, though, we had a very sudden thunderstorm accompanied by torrential rain that lasted slightly more than half an hour, and I am looking forward to more such, as predicted by the Met Office. But they are also threatening us with an imminent heat wave, and the Celsius has already touched 38 today. 

Currently reading more Maisie Dobbs, nearly finished The Travels of Ibn Batuta, and going through My Hanuman Chalisa by Devdutt Pattnaik. Also a remarkable book called The Henna Artist by Alka Joshi, recommended by Pupu. I might write a review of this last shortly.

An ex student visited me after a gap of ten years this evening, and we had a long and very nice chat. I was delighted that he agreed entirely with me that if most ex students do not communicate, they either don't want to or are afraid to (whatever the reasons for that may be) - nothing else. Being busy is the most pathetic of excuses. He is 26 and I am 60: it feels good to agree.

Yet another coaching session begins this week. Some of my fond readers might do me the kindness of wishing me luck in my 61st year!

Thursday, March 21, 2024

Voters in prams?

I read something preposterous (and I am not in the habit of using such strong words casually) in my newspaper yesterday - some 'scholar' has suggested that the voting age should be reduced to six, and some journalist has found it worthwhile to write about it. Now mine is, I know, just a voice crying in the wilderness, but let it go on record that I was one of the vast, silent majority (I am sure) who were appalled by the idea. 

But before I explain why, let me remind every one of my present and would-be readers that I have never shared the currently prevalent parental attitude that children are babies, and ought to be babied, for as long as possible - at least till they are in the mid-twenties. I should also like to re-assert that I have always believed children can grow up and become mature much sooner than most of today's parents think, if only they are allowed to take responsibility early on, and learn from their (often painful-) mistakes, and that I know children in earlier times grew up much faster - some of the greatest men and women of yesteryears were far stronger, cleverer, wiser and bolder adults at 16 or 18 and fending for themselves, even ruling and teaching nations, before they were 18 - Adi Shankaracharya, Akbar the Great, Abigail Adams, Michael Faraday, Charles Dickens, Lincoln, Rani Lakshmibai, Vidyasagar, to name a very tiny few,  and there is also the quote from Sigmund Freud which is a fixture at the bottom of my blogpost; but I also believe that people can remain irresponsible imbeciles well into middle age if they are brought up badly, and the world around me has filled up with such people. When folks in their thirties and forties still behave like silly and spoilt children these days (I have written again and again about this), give children as young as six the right to vote?! Why not commit mass suicide right away?

Let me first talk about the children I have dealt with all my life - the 14 to 18 age group in middle and upper middle class, small-town India. If anything, the mollycoddling, and consequent infantilization, has consistently worsened over my working lifetime. Combine that with 'education' reduced to mere cramming for examinations, with an obsessive focus on the sciences and mathematics to the near-total neglect of and contempt for social studies (civics, history, economics, geography, sociology, psychology, literature and scripture), has brought up two successive generations of mind-numbed robots, fit only for low end technical and service jobs and a totally selfish, narrowly focused materialistic and asocial, spiritually directionless lifestyle, 'guided' first by parents as clueless as themselves and for the rest of their lives by superstition, advertisements and 'what others are doing', whether it is a question of whom to marry or buying a car. The children I have been handling over the last twenty years and more often cannot shut my gate when they enter, have to be told to flush after using the washroom, have never touched a book or a newspaper because all that is 'outside the syllabus', score pathetically on impromptu quizzes, cannot write even a halfway decent 350-word essay on any subject, casually use foul language and do not know of any brand of humour more sophisticated than the toilet kind ... I could go on forever. They are glued to their mobile phones, playing inane games or scrolling through idiotic social media posts when they are not yelling at cricketers on TV or gorging at feasts of one kind or the other. Their attention span can be measured in seconds, and their knowledge of the past rarely goes back to more than a decade, so everything from the world wars to the Mahabharata is prehistory, even Pele and Michael Jackson and Harry Potter are now old and 'uncool' (a college goer recently asked why they were making a fuss over a little bald old man wrapped in a bed sheet. The reference was to Gandhi). 

Of course every now and then I encounter a child far superior to the rest, in terms of intelligence, empathy, GK, power of coherent thinking and expression ... a tiny few even impress me. But these are truly exceptions (as the great men and women I listed above were), and a democracy does not work on the strength of rare exceptions, remember. It is the average wisdom of the voting masses, such as it is, that directs the destiny of the country. And as a very general rule, the younger they are, the stupider and less concerned they are about matters political - that has been my experience as a teacher all through. Unless they are given that sort of education right from very early childhood which makes for good citizens rather than (at best) efficient doctors and engineers. Which means not only will our curricula have to be revised almost beyond recognition but we have to bring up an entire new generation of children (along with their parents!) who are socially well-informed and strongly civic minded. And even then, bring the voting age down to six?! The author of the article says whether we bring it down to 6 or 13 is a mere detail. Obviously he has never actually handled children, especially in the mass, so he has no idea that an enormous change comes over a person between 6 and 13, and then again between 13 and 21, as every sane adult will agree (are there many such left any more, by the way? I wonder... especially since I read only this morning about someone who has done a PhD on the Sociological Impact of the Eyes of Amitabh Bachchan. I kid you not: Srijit Mukherjee has said this in a newspaper interview), and then again between 21 and 35, during which time most ordinary people at last realize what life is all about, and what kinds of limitations we must all live with, and what working for a living and taking responsibility for others means. 

While we were discussing this article, one old boy reminded me that when they were attending my classes, they once had a debate about what should be the lowest age for calling anybody an adult, and they finally agreed by vote that the minimum, under present conditions, should be 25. This they decided when they were themselves only 15, but (and I take considerable pride in claiming some credit for this) becoming increasingly aware of their shortcomings as social beings. Whereas this journalist says that denying primary or middle school children the vote is yet another 'patriarchal ploy' to maintain the status quo. Well, imagine six year-olds voting. By what criteria are they likely to choose their leaders? ... who has promised to abolish homework, or who has offered a lifelong free supply of lollipops?

And these infants, claims the scholar and the fawning journalist, are apparently far more informed and concerned about issues like climate change and human rights and the future of civilization than their older fellow citizens, so if they are allowed to vote, radical improvements will come about in the way we are governed and the way we live. Witness, they say, the apparently enormous change for the better brought about by Greta Thunberg. Well, I am sure the very young (meaning all those currently between 10 and 18) have either never heard of her or entirely forgotten her long ago: to today's children, ten years is a lifetime. And in any case, has Greta Thunberg effected the slightest change in the ways of the world? Honestly? Where Gandhi couldn't, after a long lifetime of titanic effort involving the participation of tens of millions of people (in the flesh, suffering, not as internet warriors relaxed on sofas in air conditioned bedrooms with Coke and popcorn at their elbows)? Are we burning less fossil fuels and throwing off less plastic and wasting less water than on the day when she started skipping school in order to 'change the world'? As Jesus could have told her - because he was not an infant - it isn't all that easy. 

God help us.

Thursday, March 14, 2024

What was my lifetime like?

I was musing lately about how historians will look back upon these last forty years - the biggest part of my adult, working life - and comment on it. Interested readers should hark back to a post titled 'What really mattered?' written back in 1989 and uploaded here in 2015.

Throughout many of the previous centuries, they used to painstakingly put together hard-to-find data (in the form of artefacts hidden among ruins, difficult to read partial manuscripts and diaries, rock inscriptions and suchlike) to tentatively piece together a reasonably believable picture of some bygone age, and many of those pictures are still hazy and uncertain, as well as overladen with myths and legends, such as whether King Arthur and Sri Krishna really existed, and what the Indus Valley seals say, and whether Hitler was a closet Jew. Those looking back at our times, say, a hundred years or more hereafter, will be faced with quite the reverse problem - there is such a gigantic Niagara of data available that they will be very hard put to decide what to keep, what to take seriously, and what to ignore. The internet - via a trillion bits and pieces of data being daily uploaded by several billion individuals, in the form of official communications and love letters, twitter posts and Instagram Reels, blogposts and photographs and videos, is very likely to overwhelm them. And eventually they might decide it was a very uneventful time, when nothing much that mattered happened, in terms of the progress or regression of civilization. There were no world wars or massive famines, no visits to even the nearest star, no birth of a world-sweeping new religion, no gigantic discoveries or inventions, no major paradigm shift in the arts or political ideas, no great and sweeping social reforms (in comparison to the abolition of slavery or women getting the vote and the right to property, I mean) ... and did Michael Jackson and Madonna and Taylor Swift and Beyonce and Rihanna and Shakira (or Messi and Ronaldo and Neymar) make the slightest difference, seriously? Personally, I think I lived through one of the dullest periods in history. Or am I looking at the world in a very odd way? Would some of my readers like to start a debate? 

Tuesday, March 05, 2024

Two road trips

It rained twice, very heavily yesterday - at daybreak and again in the late afternoon, so even today it is deliciously cool, and I am relishing it to the full, knowing that the terrible summer is just around the corner. In fact, it had gotten unbearably hot at around this time last year already: the first of three successive heat waves that lasted till end-May. I wonder how soon things will take a turn for the worse, and how badly.

I have been planning to make a trip to the Dooars for ages: ironical that I have travelled so far and wide across India, but haven't visited two of the hottest sites in my own state, the Dooars and the Sunderbans. This time round I made all plans for a Dooars trip, end-February being my vacation time, but it had to be cancelled at the last moment. This has to be something more than a nasty coincidence. Anyway, I didn't waste the fortnight. In two successive weeks I made two three-day trips to nearby resorts - the first to Palash Bitan beside Murguma Dam, an hour's slow drive from the Ayodhya Hills in Purulia, the second to Gramer Bari, beside the elephant corridor through the sal forest just beyond Jhargram town in Medinipur. And both were lovely experiences, though I fell ill during the second trip, and narrowly avoided what could have been a truly bad accident on the road with very little damage. Both resorts were nestled prettily in the lap of nature, both were quiet for the most part (except for a few disgustingly noisy groups), both offered very cheery, informal, friendly service and good food, and nothing to do but 'stand and stare' to one's heart's content, night and day: just what I like. I keep looking for such places within reasonable driving distance - meaning four to six hours - and the more places I find, the happier I will be, because I intend to keep this up as long as I can keep going myself, and can afford it. In both places they said 'Do come again', and warned me to avoid the weekends and peak holiday seasons. On the second trip my mother accompanied me - she is approaching eighty and still enjoys these outings greatly, God bless her soul.

And now to brace up for yet another admission season. Something that seems to have been going on for ever - I wonder how I will feel the first year I stop doing it?