In either case- a profession without morals, in which worth is measured empirically. Distasteful.
This... idealism, that I have, is always in conflict with the equally strong rationalist in me. I've always chalked it down to naivety (naivete...? o_-?), and thought that at some point I would become disillusioned with it and lose it all- choose wealth and greed over the betterment of the self, sex over love, deception over truth, intoxication over clarity. But does the world really need what I become when I stop caring? Life itself ceases to matter, suicide becomes... a desperate option that must be rationally countered... and not downright sin perpetrated against the self and all of mankind. Cold. Logical. Cruel.
I'd rather keep the idealism. They can call me childish as they go about their foolish pursuits, we are all merely human, and whether my goals are legitimate will be vindicated or discarded by time alone.
A while ago, I wondered it out loud. Will I just turn... into a machine? Thoughtless, futile, working hard but for no end. We were in the middle of a walk in the Lodi Gardens and my Dad was ignoring me while I spoke incessantly. This time, though- he spoke, and the few words he said were enough to erase my insecurities. "You really take after your Grandfather, you know."
And I knew what he was about to say. "If you think that a career will erode your ideals, just look at your Baba..." My Baba is probably one of the principled men I know, and in a way that one scarcely notices this quality of his while taking it for granted.
If I have imbibed this quality of mine from him, then I am thankful for that.
Growing up, the one think that struck me was how Baba treated me like I was a much older person. He wanted me to be involved in current affairs and be aware of my responsibilities as an individual. Somehow, the fact that I was a three and a half year old who couldn't wash himself after going to the toilet didn't make much of a difference.
The maturity that he ascribed to me as toddler (Holy Shit I Was A Toddler) was something that I didn't earn for many, many years. Most adults can learn a thing or two from the way he deals with children. A few years ago Baba was staying over with us, and our cable operator decided to cut our favourite channel (Animax).
That day, a vein at the back of my neck began to twitch, my little sister, who was at that point enthralled by Shoujo anime like Ultra Maniac, went Berserk (pun intended :P) Baba did not watch anime.
He's mostly concerned with Hindi soaps. Even so he took a keen interest in the war his grandchildren proposed to wage on the cable operators, and chose to play the role of mediator and messenger. Let's just say that the cable operators didn't forget the ensuing ordeal until the predatory race called Set Top Boxes wiped them out.
Sometimes it's hard to imagine that this man was once a firebrand, fiercer than I'm supposed to be. He is peaceful, amiable and civil even in the face of extreme discourtesy. The worst 'insult', or 'word with negative connotation', to be more particular, he used was 'Vichitr'- unusual. I remember the time my father and I were accompanying him to the train- we reached his seat only to find that it had been usurped by a politician and his family. They sat comfortably on their seat on the train.
Their royal luggage, stacked three stories high, occupied the seat that was my grandfather's. The 50 something MLA tried to assert his authority over the older gentleman, not knowing that he was dealing with a man who had worked his way past petty politician throughout his career, and had the opportunity to witness great men like Nehru and Patel in his youth, while MLA sahib was rolling around in his diapers.
A man who had in the past used Members of Parliament as personal messengers for his sons' documents. According to a few relatives, Baba's temper was explosive. If ever there was a reason to be furious, it was having a pompous idiot hijack your seat, have his goons stand around you and give you a lecture as if you were retarded. But Baba managed to smile and asked them to remove their luggage at their own convenience. The battles of the youth must lose lustre when you are wizened enough to know the futility of their outcomes. Even so, I was certain that his polite demeanor would be mistaken for weakness if we left him to his own devices. My father began to open up a dialogue, but the MLA, possibly emboldened by Baba's apparent meekness, began to speak down to the three of us. A funny scenario, now that I think about it- lecturing three generations of firebrands (albeit one who had cooled down) in a single go.
Talking about how he was a very important person with contacts in the 'President's House' was starting to get annoying when his wife decided to put us down a little more harshly, switching to the Queen's Language as she spoke. "Don't you dare switch to English as you talk to me." My father growled, his enunciation better than snob madam's- "Do you people have no civic sense?!" Dad was in the home minstry then. Incredibly hard work, and an important post, one that ensured a large following of policemen, who were just making their way to the carriage.
The MLA could only sit with his mouth open as Dad proceeded to give him a verbal beatdown. His thugs were hardly intimidating in front of cops. Baba must have been annoyed by all this, but he just kept calm, like listening to the radio. By the time my father finished (and I was giving people the evil-eye throughout this time) the MLA's thugs were carrying the luggage out of the carriage and MLA sahib was profusely apologizing to my grandfather.
I've heard Baba's story many times, but each time it seems as close to a dream as the last. Baba's father was a farmer, his elder brothers never completed their education. As a kid, he walked seven kilometres to school, and then back. But the fire to succeed never left him, as it did in almost all others around him. After school he enrolled for a B.Sc. in Physics at a time when science was not taught in schools. We take a lot of what we learn for granted. Imagine knowing nearly nothing about physics, having only an introduction to mathematics, and learning everything we have about science in twelve years, and then proceeding to college level stuff. I can't, it seems impossible.
Baba joined the Bihar state government, in the administrative service, but, perhaps because of how he had managed to radically change his life by educating himself, switched to the educational service. As a young firebrand, his bosses laughed at him when he introduced a 'over-ambitious' proposal to set a target of ensuring that atleast ten percent of the students enrolled in schools were female. The idea was ridiculous to them. In our hindsight, their foresight was roughly equivalent to a blind rat staring at a wall. Eventually, Baba became the director of education.
His rather intense policies won both supporters and dissidents. My father claims that many a time he was assigned a personal invigilator as he gave his exams- someone desperate to find a way to attack Baba by 'exposing' his son's cheating. I'm missing most of the details... due to, y'know, not existing even in a speck of someone's hazy vision of the future.
That's why I listen closely.
I listened closely when he took a map of eastern India and spoke of every single district he'd been to (i.e. All of them) , and the work he did in it. I listened, on the phone, the other day, when he told me how he had learnt to drive by practically blackmailing his employees, and gave me a few pointers here and there.
Ethough I didn't know the fiery Director of Education of the years gone past, indirectly responsible for schooling thousands, I know the soft spoken, patient grandfather who taught me maths and science, and made me read newspapers along with him to make sure that I did not grow up to be an ignorant *******. It helped, too.
The algorithm for approximating square roots of integral numbers that he taught a much stupider version of me in seventh grade- was one I used in my engineering college entrances to solve a few questions on Limits and Derivatives.
Dadi. I will always remember dadi as the principal of a girls' school. Guess I learnt to be a teacher's pet early in life. Dadi was the one responsible for doting on me in my toddler-hood. And since I stopped liking being doted on when I turned two, this posed problems. If I had to choose one quality I have inherited from Dadi, it's her stubborn determination and penchant for argument.
Her gravest threat was- "I'll start teaching you." whenever she wanted me to catch up on my school-work. She had taught practically all subjects up to the high-school level. I think she's the only one of my grandparents still willing to fight her grandkids over mundane issues. We'd all be sheep without that kind of fighting spirit, though.
Nana. For a long time, I did not hear Nana's story, or at least the complete version of it.
Maybe it was a little more grim, more gritty than a child was meant to hear. The way people describe Nana has a lot in common with the way they described Baba. Quick to temper, volatile. The difference is that while Baba has mellowed, Nana is still headstrong in his grouchy way. The story begins with Nana going to borrow a watch from his richer best friend, so that he could time himself during his final exams.
As he asked for it, his friend's father thought it fit to subject my grandfather to his taunts- "You, a postmaster's son, what can you possibly do with a college education? It's useless for you."
I can imagine that Nana must have seethed with rage then. I would have. And yet, he needed the watch.
If he was anything like me, it was his anger that motivated him in his work. He went on to become a Gold Medallist of Allahabad University. They say his name is still etched in the college, last they checked. As he completed his B.A. in History, he began to study for the UPSC- to become an IAS officer.
Sometime before his exam, Nana was in close proximity to the Kumbh mela. Lakhs had gathered and the crowds were almost uncontrollable. Some politicians decided to use the occasion to gain a little mileage, and showed up in the mela, diverting all security forces to take care of 'VIPs' instead of maintaining order in the crowd. The chaos reached boiling point and spilled over into a large scale stampede. Policemen, rather than trying to stop the stampede, hurried to protect the politicians.
Over a hundred people died a terrible death, as policemen merely watched from the sidelines.
Nana blamed the politicians that had caused the asymmetry of police distribution. The memory of this event did not leave his mind, and he was not willing to forgive those self-serving rats. The date of the UPSC exam arrived. Nana cleared the written exam with flying colours, ranking amongst the top few of the nation. Becoming an IAS officer was guaranteed. All that was left was the formality of the interview. The marks wouldn't really matter, all he had to do was pass. Things did not go according to plan. At some point during the interview, the topic of the Kumbh Stampede came up. Perhaps one of the interviewers asked what measures should have been taken to ensure the safety of the crowd. Nana answered bluntly, putting the blame squarely on the politcians and their servile policemen. The interviewers were rattled. Perhaps they had hoped for a little sycophancy- but Nana had been there when it happened, such an event does not leave you so easily.
They failed him, giving him slightly less than the minimum marks required to qualify the interview.
It was strange that one of the toppers of the written exam failed to make the final cut. Nana took up a job as a lecturer of History in his university.
The next year he gave the exam again, scoring even higher than before. He reached the interview hall again, only to find the same faces that had sabotaged his efforts the year before.
There really was no reason to waste more time thinking about it. Nana refused to budge from his stand. They failed him again. News began to spread of a Gold Medallist who had topped the written exam twice only to be shafted during the interview.
A few people, including some ministers, became suspicious- it was strange that a few men seemed to have absolute power over a person's candidacy.
The true reason was supressed, of course, but they argued that the interview- while still important in deciding the outcome of a person's candidacy-should not have Veto power regarding the same.
The official reason must have been that it was to ensure that no discrimination based on caste or creed took place.
The testing system was ammended in Nana's third attempt, so that one could still pass, even if they failed the inteview. I think the written exam had a weightage of 800 marks, the interview 200. For the third time running, Nana performed exceptionally in the written exam, ranking third in the nation and outdoing his previous two attempts.
For the third time he entered the interviewing room. Many familiar faces, once again. I wonder if they even talked to each other this time... it was almost a formality. In my mind's eye, I can imagine Nana simply sitting down and greeting those who had tormented him, and waiting in near silence till it was time to leave. Any illusion of impartiality that the interviewers had tried to maintain in past years disappeared.
They awarded Nana a princely 4 marks out of 200 (ridiculously low, even compared to his interview scores in the previous years), hoping the shortfall would put him out of the running.
And with over 100 marks as his handicap, Nana became an IAS Officer.
Soon after this feat, Nana received a marriage proposal from his rich friend's father, the same man who had mocked him years ago when he had decided to pursue higher education, asking him to marry his daughter.
And Nana politely refused, saying "Yeh toh meri behen jaisi hai."
Man, that MUST HAVE BEEN SARCASM.
If Baba has taught me the virtue of compromise, Nana has taught me the power of an unyielding spirit. I wish he was a little more passionate these days. It's difficult to motivate him. But a few things always work. Cars, for example. Nana loves cars, I think he buys a new one every year, or twice a year!
Maybe he's gullible and falls for every marketing trick. More than that, I think, he just loves to test every new model that's released, considering there were perhaps, 3 models of motorized vehicle available for much of his life. It's not exactly healthy for the wallet (even after selling his old car), and it needs to be tempered.
But I think it's kinda awesome.
A few years ago, me and Nana went to the auto expo. We were wandering around the Skoda pavillion. I don't really like Skodas so I was getting bored, but Nana suddenly, seriously, asked one of the sales reps how he could go about purchasing the high end model on display. I don't know whether Nana didn't realize the car was out of his price range, or that he was just being serious like he's always serious, seeking the information just for the sake of it. In any case, the crowd was brushed aside as Nana was given VIP treatment, sitting in the driver's seat and examining every nook and cranny of the vehicle.
The 'regular' visitors tried to protest but were held back by security personnel. The rep had (wrongly) assumed that the guy was loaded and looking to buy. Of course, Nana DID look like it wouldn't be a big deal for him to make the purchase. That's a pretty great ability, I think, to carry an aura that commands respect, even in an advanced age. I found it a little difficult even to switch from middleclass kid-scrooge to spoilt richspawn.
When he left the Octavia I told the manager in my most authoritative tone- "We'll consider this vehicle, but not before checking the mercedes and BMW pavillions." I met Nana not too long ago. He's learning the internet right now. It's a little slow because he can't quite grasp the limitlessness of the net.
I have to guide him every now and then and make sure he does not give away important passcodes to strangers, but he's become quite fluent. The other day I found him a bunch of ancient black & white cinema songs on youtube and taught him how to look for more.
After cricket and cars, it was only vintage cinema that managed to draw a pure grin from Nana. I hope I get to go back soon and help him find more things to do online.
Nani is ill a lot recently. In the hospital right now... I have to go see her as soon as I can... tomorrow... When she gets well again, I'll ask her to teach me how to paint. She started to teach me and my sister when we were four, but it's been on hiatus ever since.
Strange enough, I started to draw as the first part of her lessons, so I that I would paint over it. I've spent a lot more time with the pencil than the brush since then. It's time that I finish what I started. And I'll make it work.
I'll help her with her own paintings. Or try, at least.
Even though it has always been my desire to break free from the shackles of the past- within them lies a legacy that I am proud to carry. You might see it crush me into the ground, but it'll make a great story someday.
The MLA could only sit with his mouth open as Dad proceeded to give him a verbal beatdown. His thugs were hardly intimidating in front of cops. Baba must have been annoyed by all this, but he just kept calm, like listening to the radio. By the time my father finished (and I was giving people the evil-eye throughout this time) the MLA's thugs were carrying the luggage out of the carriage and MLA sahib was profusely apologizing to my grandfather.
I've heard Baba's story many times, but each time it seems as close to a dream as the last. Baba's father was a farmer, his elder brothers never completed their education. As a kid, he walked seven kilometres to school, and then back. But the fire to succeed never left him, as it did in almost all others around him. After school he enrolled for a B.Sc. in Physics at a time when science was not taught in schools. We take a lot of what we learn for granted. Imagine knowing nearly nothing about physics, having only an introduction to mathematics, and learning everything we have about science in twelve years, and then proceeding to college level stuff. I can't, it seems impossible.
Baba joined the Bihar state government, in the administrative service, but, perhaps because of how he had managed to radically change his life by educating himself, switched to the educational service. As a young firebrand, his bosses laughed at him when he introduced a 'over-ambitious' proposal to set a target of ensuring that atleast ten percent of the students enrolled in schools were female. The idea was ridiculous to them. In our hindsight, their foresight was roughly equivalent to a blind rat staring at a wall. Eventually, Baba became the director of education.
His rather intense policies won both supporters and dissidents. My father claims that many a time he was assigned a personal invigilator as he gave his exams- someone desperate to find a way to attack Baba by 'exposing' his son's cheating. I'm missing most of the details... due to, y'know, not existing even in a speck of someone's hazy vision of the future.
That's why I listen closely.
I listened closely when he took a map of eastern India and spoke of every single district he'd been to (i.e. All of them) , and the work he did in it. I listened, on the phone, the other day, when he told me how he had learnt to drive by practically blackmailing his employees, and gave me a few pointers here and there.
Ethough I didn't know the fiery Director of Education of the years gone past, indirectly responsible for schooling thousands, I know the soft spoken, patient grandfather who taught me maths and science, and made me read newspapers along with him to make sure that I did not grow up to be an ignorant *******. It helped, too.
The algorithm for approximating square roots of integral numbers that he taught a much stupider version of me in seventh grade- was one I used in my engineering college entrances to solve a few questions on Limits and Derivatives.
Dadi. I will always remember dadi as the principal of a girls' school. Guess I learnt to be a teacher's pet early in life. Dadi was the one responsible for doting on me in my toddler-hood. And since I stopped liking being doted on when I turned two, this posed problems. If I had to choose one quality I have inherited from Dadi, it's her stubborn determination and penchant for argument.
Her gravest threat was- "I'll start teaching you." whenever she wanted me to catch up on my school-work. She had taught practically all subjects up to the high-school level. I think she's the only one of my grandparents still willing to fight her grandkids over mundane issues. We'd all be sheep without that kind of fighting spirit, though.
Nana. For a long time, I did not hear Nana's story, or at least the complete version of it.
Maybe it was a little more grim, more gritty than a child was meant to hear. The way people describe Nana has a lot in common with the way they described Baba. Quick to temper, volatile. The difference is that while Baba has mellowed, Nana is still headstrong in his grouchy way. The story begins with Nana going to borrow a watch from his richer best friend, so that he could time himself during his final exams.
As he asked for it, his friend's father thought it fit to subject my grandfather to his taunts- "You, a postmaster's son, what can you possibly do with a college education? It's useless for you."
I can imagine that Nana must have seethed with rage then. I would have. And yet, he needed the watch.
If he was anything like me, it was his anger that motivated him in his work. He went on to become a Gold Medallist of Allahabad University. They say his name is still etched in the college, last they checked. As he completed his B.A. in History, he began to study for the UPSC- to become an IAS officer.
Sometime before his exam, Nana was in close proximity to the Kumbh mela. Lakhs had gathered and the crowds were almost uncontrollable. Some politicians decided to use the occasion to gain a little mileage, and showed up in the mela, diverting all security forces to take care of 'VIPs' instead of maintaining order in the crowd. The chaos reached boiling point and spilled over into a large scale stampede. Policemen, rather than trying to stop the stampede, hurried to protect the politicians.
Over a hundred people died a terrible death, as policemen merely watched from the sidelines.
Nana blamed the politicians that had caused the asymmetry of police distribution. The memory of this event did not leave his mind, and he was not willing to forgive those self-serving rats. The date of the UPSC exam arrived. Nana cleared the written exam with flying colours, ranking amongst the top few of the nation. Becoming an IAS officer was guaranteed. All that was left was the formality of the interview. The marks wouldn't really matter, all he had to do was pass. Things did not go according to plan. At some point during the interview, the topic of the Kumbh Stampede came up. Perhaps one of the interviewers asked what measures should have been taken to ensure the safety of the crowd. Nana answered bluntly, putting the blame squarely on the politcians and their servile policemen. The interviewers were rattled. Perhaps they had hoped for a little sycophancy- but Nana had been there when it happened, such an event does not leave you so easily.
They failed him, giving him slightly less than the minimum marks required to qualify the interview.
It was strange that one of the toppers of the written exam failed to make the final cut. Nana took up a job as a lecturer of History in his university.
The next year he gave the exam again, scoring even higher than before. He reached the interview hall again, only to find the same faces that had sabotaged his efforts the year before.
There really was no reason to waste more time thinking about it. Nana refused to budge from his stand. They failed him again. News began to spread of a Gold Medallist who had topped the written exam twice only to be shafted during the interview.
A few people, including some ministers, became suspicious- it was strange that a few men seemed to have absolute power over a person's candidacy.
The true reason was supressed, of course, but they argued that the interview- while still important in deciding the outcome of a person's candidacy-should not have Veto power regarding the same.
The official reason must have been that it was to ensure that no discrimination based on caste or creed took place.
The testing system was ammended in Nana's third attempt, so that one could still pass, even if they failed the inteview. I think the written exam had a weightage of 800 marks, the interview 200. For the third time running, Nana performed exceptionally in the written exam, ranking third in the nation and outdoing his previous two attempts.
For the third time he entered the interviewing room. Many familiar faces, once again. I wonder if they even talked to each other this time... it was almost a formality. In my mind's eye, I can imagine Nana simply sitting down and greeting those who had tormented him, and waiting in near silence till it was time to leave. Any illusion of impartiality that the interviewers had tried to maintain in past years disappeared.
They awarded Nana a princely 4 marks out of 200 (ridiculously low, even compared to his interview scores in the previous years), hoping the shortfall would put him out of the running.
And with over 100 marks as his handicap, Nana became an IAS Officer.
Soon after this feat, Nana received a marriage proposal from his rich friend's father, the same man who had mocked him years ago when he had decided to pursue higher education, asking him to marry his daughter.
And Nana politely refused, saying "Yeh toh meri behen jaisi hai."
Man, that MUST HAVE BEEN SARCASM.
If Baba has taught me the virtue of compromise, Nana has taught me the power of an unyielding spirit. I wish he was a little more passionate these days. It's difficult to motivate him. But a few things always work. Cars, for example. Nana loves cars, I think he buys a new one every year, or twice a year!
Maybe he's gullible and falls for every marketing trick. More than that, I think, he just loves to test every new model that's released, considering there were perhaps, 3 models of motorized vehicle available for much of his life. It's not exactly healthy for the wallet (even after selling his old car), and it needs to be tempered.
But I think it's kinda awesome.
A few years ago, me and Nana went to the auto expo. We were wandering around the Skoda pavillion. I don't really like Skodas so I was getting bored, but Nana suddenly, seriously, asked one of the sales reps how he could go about purchasing the high end model on display. I don't know whether Nana didn't realize the car was out of his price range, or that he was just being serious like he's always serious, seeking the information just for the sake of it. In any case, the crowd was brushed aside as Nana was given VIP treatment, sitting in the driver's seat and examining every nook and cranny of the vehicle.
The 'regular' visitors tried to protest but were held back by security personnel. The rep had (wrongly) assumed that the guy was loaded and looking to buy. Of course, Nana DID look like it wouldn't be a big deal for him to make the purchase. That's a pretty great ability, I think, to carry an aura that commands respect, even in an advanced age. I found it a little difficult even to switch from middleclass kid-scrooge to spoilt richspawn.
When he left the Octavia I told the manager in my most authoritative tone- "We'll consider this vehicle, but not before checking the mercedes and BMW pavillions." I met Nana not too long ago. He's learning the internet right now. It's a little slow because he can't quite grasp the limitlessness of the net.
I have to guide him every now and then and make sure he does not give away important passcodes to strangers, but he's become quite fluent. The other day I found him a bunch of ancient black & white cinema songs on youtube and taught him how to look for more.
After cricket and cars, it was only vintage cinema that managed to draw a pure grin from Nana. I hope I get to go back soon and help him find more things to do online.
Nani is ill a lot recently. In the hospital right now... I have to go see her as soon as I can... tomorrow... When she gets well again, I'll ask her to teach me how to paint. She started to teach me and my sister when we were four, but it's been on hiatus ever since.
Strange enough, I started to draw as the first part of her lessons, so I that I would paint over it. I've spent a lot more time with the pencil than the brush since then. It's time that I finish what I started. And I'll make it work.
I'll help her with her own paintings. Or try, at least.
Even though it has always been my desire to break free from the shackles of the past- within them lies a legacy that I am proud to carry. You might see it crush me into the ground, but it'll make a great story someday.
3 comments:
Tough legacy to live upto. But im sure you'll manage it.
Good luck.
(Its very heartening to know that idealism, principles and values are not yet completely dead)
Who knows? I wouldn't make any assumptions at this stage... lest I stand corrupted soon after.
Morals and values are innately simple things,
But people have a tendency of complicating things and creating loop holes.
Morals do tend to get sidelined as the years wear on. I am not a very idealistic person myself. I sometimes lie and I have in the past engaged in activities that I am not proud of. But my one ideal which I hope I wont ever compromise on is that I will never do something dishonest like taking credit for another persons work, cheating, swindling and the like.
My greatest wish is to do something for my country someday. Something which will make the rest of the world truly acknowledge India to be right up there with the best.
My friends tell me my dreams are unrealistic and I always retort with my favorite quote 'Dream big. Then go make that dream real.'
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