This and that

Good to see that many old posts are coming back into the most-read list again. I wonder, though, why A most frightening prospect, written about the fake and dangerous Anna Hazare-led 'anti-corruption' campaign, written long ago, has been recently occupying the top slot for quite some time at a stretch!

The CBSE's latest brainwave is giving board examination candidates two chances a year instead of one to get the scores they want. Ostensibly to reduce further the 'stress' (chaap, as Bengalis call it)  that the kids find unbearable these days. That too makes me wonder - how did we and our ancestors for several generations cope so quietly (without severe 'mental health issues'), when syllabi were far bigger, questions much tougher, marks given far more stingily, and everybody knew that only a genuinely bright few would do really well (and also that exam scores have very little predictive power about how successful a person would become in later material life)? The situation sits very uncomfortably with the competing idea that everybody 'needs' an education to do well in life, and everybody 'deserves' an education, everybody wants an education, and like all good things in life, it is a difficult attribute to acquire - it was never supposed to be a leisurely fun ride at parental expense for 18 to 20 years. As I remarked once not very long ago, why not drop this farce, this gigantic hypocrisy once and for all, and simply abolish mass education  beyond class 8 - seeing that, as everybody actually knows, 95% of jobs don't need much real education anyway? In any case, we do not respect and admire truly educated people any longer, do we? - it is only people with some sort of low- or high level technical skill (code writers and surgeons, for example) who are now called educated.

A good education, among many other vital things, would have made people more polite, gentle, courteous and considerate towards one another - because they would like to have the same good things in return. Who can deny, then, that we live in an increasingly uncivilized world, where 'educated' people (and that includes people who influence large numbers - politicians, writers, filmmakers and so on) care less and less about such niceties; indeed, have come to believe that crude vulgarity, needless aggression and callousness about other people's legitimate feelings are what makes you 'smart, cool and trendy'? These days I actually marvel at youngsters and their parents who can talk civilly, and still believe that good manners matter. Perhaps, like me, they are a dying breed, and perhaps, soon, things are going to take a turn towards the dark past, when all of us will have to carry weapons again (or bodyguards skilled with weapons) to protect not only our physical safety but dignity too? It pains me that I was born quiet, mild and self-effacing, but I have had to make myself a brash and harsh person on the outside (those who know me well know how different I am at heart), simply to survive in this sick, ugly social environment with head held high: most people give me a wide berth simply because I have painstakingly built a reputation for giving back worse than I get. Most people in this town who think and speak ill of me have learnt to do so carefully behind my back. Says much more about them than about me, if only they had the wits to figure that out!

[A happy coincidence: my daughter just sent me this YouTube video on a very popular channel (Deshbhakt) that talks about the same issue and pulls no punches. I am glad that some 'influencers' are saying exactly the same things that I do, the same way. Interested readers may also look up my 2019 post titled Guttersnipes]

I recently watched a 2023 movie called One Life featuring Sir Nicholas Winton (the elderly Winton played by Anthony Hopkins) who, too, saved a lot of (young) Jewish lives just before the Holocaust began. So actually quite a few people were strongly enough moved by their consciences to do just that, not just Oscar Schindler or Chiune Sugihara or Goering's brother. One lives and learns. I was also excited about the fourth season of the Panchayat series dropping on Amazon Prime, but judging by the first three episodes, I think I am going to be disappointed. And I read The Secret Keeper of Jaipur, a sort of sequel to The Henna Artist by Alka Joshi. A well-written mystery thriller, starring the same central character, but it doesn't tug at the heart strings as the former did.

This has been a rather long-drawn out June. Glad it's ending today. Funny monsoon going on: drizzling every day, but hardly any strong showers, and horribly muggy. I wonder what July has in store for us.

I was musing over how the English language has become impoverished (poor, for readers below forty), desiccated (dried up) and coarse over my lifetime. One of those things that hurt, because I have loved them so deeply. I have written in passing about this before, but it deserves a longer post of its own. So maybe next time. 

An ex student currently preparing for next year's UPSC exams brought me a list of the kind of topics on which they have to write compulsory thousand-word essays. Most of them, I was tickled to find, were right up my street, the kind of essays I have enjoyed writing all my life, the sort I have written again and again here on this blog. Maybe I'll try my hand at penning my thoughts on one or two of them here, just for the fun of it (yes, people have very different ideas of fun. I wouldn't be caught dead at a rock concert, a fashion show or on the galleries at a cricket match).

I also want to write a longish essay about our own Didi, because I admire her so much as a human being. if only I wasn't afraid that, as is people's wont these days, they would immediately brand me a 'sycophant' and a blind TMC supporter, neither of which I am. (Indeed, from a very dispassionate, rational, educated point of view, I actually wish that party to lose power next time round: three successive tenures at the helm of government is quite enough; after that, every party and ideology grows incompetent, smug and corrupt to the core). What a stupid and vulgar world it has become, where praise for the deserving without vested interest has become so suspect, yet shameless flattery flourishes...

Accidents and happier things

My heartfelt condolences for all those families who were bereaved by the catastrophic Air India Dreamliner crash in Ahmedabad on 12th June. May God give them strength to bear up and cope with their tragic loss, and may the souls of the departed rest in peace. This accident hits very close to home, because my older sister, who served with Air India till very recently, flew hundreds of times on the same aeroplane. And as the whole world knows by now, one man walked away from the flaming wreckage virtually unscathed. As we the devout like to say, raakhe Hari maare ke (who can slay the man whom God protects?). Remember the child who came back from the tsunami in Thailand back in 2004? A Jewish rabbi said only the other day in connection with the plane crash that it's not ultimately the technology and the pilots who save and kill, it's an infinitely greater power above. Even atheists should take time to reflect that in that attitude to life one may find a kind of solace and peace that no other philosophy has ever provided. It's the same attitude that helps best to stay calm before a major surgical operation, and every time your beloved child leaves home.

But I have a scientifically curious mind, too, and as some people may know, I have been an aircraft buff all my life: even as a teenager I could identify 'planes by the sound of their engines overhead, and reel off data about engine power and thrust to weight ratio and camber and angle of attack and yawing, rolling, pitching, banking and stalling speed and so on and so forth, so I simply cannot square what happened (unlike the Boeing 737 Max disaster a few years ago) with the fact that the machine was not very old, in good shape, had fairly recently undergone a thorough re-check for serious faults, and the pilot was a very experienced hand. Why were the flaps fully withdrawn while the landing gear had still not retracted, when just about anyone who knows anything about planes would swear that no sane pilot is likely ever to do that even by 'mistake' seconds after takeoff? And all this speculation about simultaneous loss of power in both engines, that is so, so unthinkably improbable that it strains credulity and goads one to start thinking superstitiously again... I am eagerly waiting for the final investigation report, and to know what the experts are going to do about it. And I shall still depend on the knowledge that statistically speaking, air travel remains the safest way to travel (but no, there is no special protective magic attached to seat number 11A, all you idiots).

Alas, instinctive socialist (and rational) man that I am, many disturbing thoughts come to my mind. Why do we make so much more fuss when people die in aircraft accidents than on trains, buses or on the road (more than 15,000 died on state and national highways alone last year); why do 26 terrorist victims manage to grab so much more attention, grief and outrage than, say, the 10,000 (at least) who died in the Odisha super cyclone of 1999? Isn't it only because air accidents involve well-off, well-connected, highly articulate, rich and super rich people? In this connection, remember that governments announce much larger compensation for aircraft-accident victims, too...

Meanwhile, moving on to a less morbid subject, here is a link to a Youtube video that might help lots of people - especially young people who have just begun to earn a living: it's about how to manage your finances wisely. Serious listeners will find that the speaker talks about 'spirituality' (!) in the same vein as I have been writing about the 'life of the spirit'. Paradoxically enough, having a spiritual orientation helps a great deal to make (and keep) money, and it has become increasingly necessary in an age when the whole world is provoking you to go in the opposite direction!

Strange 'monsoon' again: the first few showers gave a bit of relief from the heat, but since then the rain laden winds have moved up northwards, so Assam and North Bengal are already seeing their first floods, while we in the south are sweltering still. Oddly enough, the temperatures are much lower than what usually happens in mid-June, rarely going above 36 Celsius, but the humidity is oppressive (so it 'feels like' we are in the mid-forties), and the nights are too warm for comfort. The Met office says this is going to be a rainy week again: let's see if they get it right.

A Marwari old boy made my day yesterday by asking me to recommend some good fiction. Maybe it's time Bengalis started learning about culture from them!

I am already itching to make up plans for running away from Durga pujo again. I wish I could find a couple of good travel companions: it seems most of my favourites will be busy during that time this year. 

I wish I could get some encouraging and constructive feedback about the stories I am telling on YouTube, there on my channel or here. It would be of great help, believe me.

I am happy to report that the pipe I am smoking with a herbal (non-tobacco) mixture has been a good decision. And I am soon going to buy a pram - after 28 years - for the child of a dear old boy who is expecting a baby. Brings back glowing old memories!

Well, that's enough musing for now. I'll be back soon.

Turning into Sidhu Jyatha

I spent another deliciously restful and deeply satisfying week in Kolkata with my daughter and Swarnava. In a hundred little ways I am growing luckier as I grow older: not only because I am better off and Kolkata is a slightly nicer place to live in than in the 1980s (if you don't have to move about much!), but also because I have far less to worry about, far fewer people I have to pretend to respect and loving people to look after me. God, I can't stop saying how thankful I am. After life's fitful fever I relax well.

The last week, what with the early arrival of the monsoon, was rainy all through, and that was a big bonus, though the spells in between were horribly sultry when the air conditioners were switched off. My daughter says I always bring the rains along with me, whether in Delhi or in Kolkata, and indeed it has happened over and over again!

I was very well fed, and though I do not in general much enjoy eating out, the trip to China Town (Tangra) to dine at Golden Joy was a real treat; so was the Irani food that Pupu ordered in from sodabottleopenerwala, Berry Pulao and something else whose rather exotic name I have, unfortunately, forgotten.

Having found a lot of time to ease back and reflect - my favourite pastime lifelong - I mused over how much was repeating itself, only in a less vexing way. The college kids I looked at while driving past looked so similar to my own contemporaries from more than forty years ago that it seemed time had stopped. The lights are brighter, the streets are leafier, the power cuts almost a thing of the past. Hand-drawn rickshaws have nearly vanished, and even the toto-wallahs are far more likely to wear jeans and T-shirt than lungi and gamchha. A/c buses, autos and Rapido bike services have made hanging from bus doors history, and when all the Metro routes start functioning, travelling around will be as comfortable as it is in Delhi. 

Pupu and Swarnava keep asking anxiously every time whether I enjoyed my stay. Let this be on record: these days I come back only to make some more money while it is still to be made, and because there are a few dogs which are always delighted to see me back. Indeed, loving dogs now wait for me both here and there. More and more I incline to agree with Pupu's views on a lot of things - the girl has tried long and hard -  including the legend on her T-shirt: 'I like dogs more than people', sad though that makes me to admit it. My favourite boys have moved away, the girls have all forgotten me, as I should have expected them to, and Durgapur has given me only two things of long-term value: a livelihood and a low-cost, relatively quiet lifestyle. Any day Pupu migrates to some still-remote hill station and asks me to come along, I shall wind up here for good and move, lock stock and barrel, once and for all. And if I can still be of some practical use to them, whether it be housekeeping or nannying kids or writing stuff, I shall be quite fulfilled. Once my mother passes away, and I pray it is not too long now, I shall be the oldest member of my immediate family, and all I shall demand from God and man is that I be left in peace, until it is time for me too - my fondest dream for a long time has been to go like Don Vito Corleone.

For the young, life is all dreams, for the old, life is all memories. Very true for me. And since the memories are not uniformly good, I choose to dwell more and more on the good ones, shoving aside the rest. I wish readers would hark back to posts like Looking back, and Looking back once more, to find out how I do it. I also evaluate more and more (or 'judge', to use a currently popular buzzword - strictly inside my mind, of course) what has happened to me, what I have done, what I could have avoided and done better and so on. Strangely, I do not find much that I could have changed; I certainly don't think that given the circumstances, there was much that I could have actually avoided or done better. One thing I am not doing at my stage in life is trying to look, feel and act younger, whether that be by frequenting the gym or dressing a la mode or using fashionable slang or riding a heavy, noisy motorbike. I am happy the way I am - even with the no-frills, no nonsense style in which I am telling stories on YouTube - and if that draws people to me or drives them away, I am indifferent. It's people who tell me I don't look old or that I should do things to look and sound young who get my goat. Why can folks never be satisfied with the way they are, and why do they try so hard to impose their dissatisfaction on others?

One of my biggest regrets - one which I shall probably leave the world with - is that though my country has grown materially richer over my lifetime, as visible almost everywhere (see the fourth paragraph), it has definitely grown culturally poorer overall, whether you think in terms of things like congestion and pollution, or the general and huge decline of manners, intelligence, empathy and general knowledge in the sense of 'well stocked minds', helpful friendliness and such. So on the whole, to my mind at least, India remains a very unpleasant country to live in: and for those of us who wanted all along to see that she was 'developing', it is a deeply upsetting thing. You cannot even walk down a street without brushing past people talking about nothing but money, when they take a break from cricket or politics. Tragic, for a country which boasts ad nauseum about how culturally rich we are. Meanwhile, as a teacher, I shall probably retire with a deep sense of regret and failure, because too many of my students have become merely 'successful' (and that too, in a very petty middle class sense: no Ambanis and Dhonis and SRKs or Sundar Pichais among them!), and very few that I can boast about as truly good human beings in whose mental development I was proud to play a part. It is true, of course, that 99% of the parents expected nothing more from me than good exam scores, so I suppose I gave good value for money... but I didn't get much of what I had been looking for beyond making a living, that's for sure. Maybe that's true for every man?

I was exulting over crossing the one million page views milestone just a few months ago, and now, almost unnoticed, another 100,000-plus has been added to that number. Funny. I wonder, for the umpteenth time, which people keep reading, and why I get so little feedback. Some bloggers are much luckier. But anyway, maybe I shall have to stay satisfied with the little conversations I have here with that very small number who do keep commenting, and who are a pleasure to respond to, because they too can think and feel. That is a very vital reason why a liberal arts education is becoming more and more essential with the passage of time, though too few people yet recognize the need... civilization needs more and more people who can think and feel for themselves, not mere specialists who have no life of the mind and have become for all intents and purposes flesh and blood robots blindly following Standard Operating Protocols and 'systems'.

Well, anyway, as Tagore wrote, 'orey bheeru, tore upore nai bhuboner bhaar' (O coward, the world's responsibility has not been placed upon your shoulders)! So I guess as the years pass by, I shall more and more mind my own business. What that 'business' is likely to be hereafter, that is the question.

That's what I look like now, relaxing at home in the evening after classes, perusing the pipe - a habit I have revived after I guess more than two decades. One dear ex student commented that I look like Feluda's Sidhu Jyatha, and I am thrilled to bits.