After nearly three and a half months of returning from Arcelor, I finally wrote to one of the guys who interned there with me, Matthias. He was really friendly to me and one of the few people who spoke English. I got an immediate and enthusiastic reply from him. My mail had been pretty general, a hi, a how are you, a where are you and a what are you doing. He was also a metallurgy student and a much more sincere one than I ever was as far as metallurgy is concerned. I saw him working hard, like most other interns over there, who worked for the love of the subject, for better understanding, for an earnestness of effort. They were concerned about their results, and would come back early the next morning if something went wrong with their experiments.
Matthias, too, was sincere about his experiments, his work. He would also come and help me out and provide reasons and alternatives when things didn’t go right with me, along with Malika, the two real friends I made there. I had long talks with him about his career and he finally wanted to get into some job that I really didn’t understand, maybe because his limited English made it difficult for me to understand or maybe because I’m unaware of that job profile. Yet he wanted to do it slowly, over a period of time. He had said that he would go back to Brittany, his home, a small island to the northwest of France, take up a job and live with his parents for a while.
When I mailed him today and asked what he was currently doing, he said that he had taken up a six month job in Brittany with a company that deals in military boats and submarines. And he says that it satisfies his scientific needs. This answer, and the mail in general, reminded me of what I had felt when I was in Europe those three months – that we, in India, are madly running after things, desires, which I like to call the capitalist or the American effect, rather inappropriately, since I’ve never been to the US and speak purely on the basis of impressions. Whatever be the reason, whatever be the driving force, we just seem to never be satisfied. It is not as if the Europeans did not work or aim high, but that they had a work ethic, the corporate culture was not the back-stabbing kind, the people gave as much importance to themselves, their own needs, their body, their mind, as to money. They worked in the field that gave them joy, because it gave them joy.
Why do we, here, just run and run and run. Without an end. We seek success. We seek progress. What is the upper limit? What do we aspire to become? Where will this progress lead us? There is no end, neither scientifically, nor financially. We will always be able to print more money or conjure up more ideas. Why do we do what we do? What is the benchmark of progress? As for success, how do we measure it? Why is success measured, in the present case, by the amount of money one earns, by the names we affiliated with, by the marks we receive or the praises that are showered on us? Why is success so external, so flimsy, so temporary? Why can’t we make it something that belongs to us, why don’t we decide whether we are successful or not? Why would I be successful only if I get into a job that pays me Rs. 10 lakhs an annum but a failure if I take up a Rs. 4 lakh and live in Gurgaon with my parents, have peace of mind and a proper home? Why is learning Creative Writing because I want to not a success but doing it from the best possible college is?
Why do we never stop to think where we are headed, why we are doing what we are doing? It pains me to see the kind of stuff taught to kids today in classes 7th and 8th, the kind of books they use, colorful, expensive and worthless. There is nothing tangible, nothing useful between the fancy covers that rob parents of money in the name of education. It pains me to see education becoming the biggest business around with no accountability, the reason being that education brings success. The private tuitions by school teachers after school, the IIT-JEE coachings, the Medical coachings, the MBA coachings, the private schools, the so-called engineering colleges that impart education on God knows what. Kids in class 8th and 9th today ask questions like “What’s the harm in a timepass fling,” or make statements like “She’s a flirt, it doesn’t matter if we talk like this about her,” or “It’s okay. It’s just physical attraction. We’ll go around for a while, that’s it.” Children hold parents accountable for their failures as early as high school, the adolescent period has become a nice over-hyped way of throwing tantrums and getting away with it. Not that parents are not to blame for this kind of upbringing, it is their misguided faith, their unreasonable hopes and their desire to show off their child as a success that spurs it all on.
We in IITK think that being in IITK should be testimony enough of our intelligence, our brilliance, our worth etc. etc. for universities to offer us admissions, for companies to beg us to work with them and pay us shitloads of money, for professors to let us be and not implore us to come to classes, for anyone in general to not expect us to behave, be disciplined or work hard for what we want because we are the best, the cream of the country. We shall go to chat rooms and Orkut profiles and declare that we are IITians and the guys should revere us and the girls drool over us. We shall sit here for four years and only complain about the lack of facilities, which gives us the freedom to suck out every last possible benefit from what is available and not contribute one whit back to the institute, we shall grow desperate about the highly skewed boys to girls ratio which gives us the license to dissect every one of the girls present on campus, say the most demeaning things about them and suck up to them as soon as they even look at us, our thoughts shall only revolve around how to get a girl’s attention, what would impress her the most, or dreams that shall be about a job that’ll pay us enough to go out with real girls outside IITK. When they come here to our campus, we shall take pictures and make videos from all possible angles, be the worst possible voyeurs and what more, be proud of it. We shall only jeer, yell, scorn and despise everything that we are given and never covet what we have. It is our right. We are the best.
Epics tell tales of times past, of struggles of men, of lives intertwined, of sorrows, of wisdom. Yet they always talk of turbulent times, of wars, of a rich heritage, of a golden era that was and that shall be, but the present, in every story, in every tale is saga of crime, or injustice, of torture, of tragedy. A just society, a happy society is boring. There is nothing to tell. Ramayana ends with the establishment of Ram Rajya, Atlas Shrugged ends when John Galt gets his way, The Lord of the Rings ends as Sauron is defeated, yet, it is these tales that we remember, the minutest details of the agony these people went through, their desperate attempts to salvage what they valued, their inherent belief, their mettle, their courage, and victory. Victory may not come to us, for this is not a story. But we can fight too. We can try and protect what is dear to us, what is pure and sublime that we cannot bear to see tarnished and violated. Misquoting from the Bhagwad Geeta, “Phal ki ichha mat kar, karm kiye jaa” is the one living mantra that has always made the most sense to me. In a world that I see as falling apart, conveniently oblivious to its doom, I see flashes of hope in some people, of brilliance that I wish to cradle and preserve but we must all fend for ourselves, with the knowledge that we will receive no support but we shall be pulled back at every possible opportunity. That is how it was meant to be. This is our present. Only if we could do our bit and make a difference to our own lives, it would be worth it. Everything would be worth it.
Friends have been the inspiration that has egged me on, and hopefully I will be lucky enough to run into people that make you want to make life worth living. It is because of them, because of what they have given me, because of what they are that I have hope. Prabhleen, for making me a part of his world, a world once so removed from mine, I could not have imagined our paths will converge one day. Mohit, for his grit and determination, and for standing up for me. Anuj, for really giving me the first taste of true friendship as I wanted it to be. Anant, for being sensible and sincere. Karnika, for being hyper, for being happy, for being vulnerable. Shohini, for being stable, for being hard-working, for being subtle. Mayank, for being guileless, for making me feel wanted. Abhinav (Jain) for being a friend in need. Manisha, for being so like myself. Vinod, for looking so harassed all the time, for being cynical, for being analytical. Pritha, for being so innocent. Prabha, for the sheer joy she finds in her work. Rohit, for turning out to be such a good friend, for being so real, so human, so honest. Amiya, who I never knew why I fell in love with. Prashant (Gautam) for the infinite store of creativity and intelligence that he is, for the fact that he’ll probably never find a place that is right for him. Suchitra ma’am, for her convictions, her beliefs, her commitments. Colin, for the best work ethic I’ve ever seen and the maturity that I’ll probably never match up to. Sayandi, for who she is, for her strength, her righteousness, her attitude, her whole being. And my mom. Thank you. All of you. I am what I am because of you and for you. I will be better person every single day because one or more of you have inspired me to be. I live for you, all of you and there’s no point living if not for you.
posted by Swetank Gupta @ 4:40 pm
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