Musings on Cricket and Life

Some experiences can scar you for life. They leave a certain block in the mind which is difficult to overcome. Lifelong behaviour is influenced by these scars that just don’t go away. Just when we seem to think that we have dropped the baggage for good, some incident or the other allows that part of the memory to surface with a vengeance -- it recreates the experience and leaves us perplexed, angry and bitter for a while. It feels as if we have relived that experience. I suppose this is what happens when we try to suppress such experiences.

The experiences that scar you for life can also lead to disastrous consequences. I still remember the scene in a Bharatpur village in Rajasthan more than three years ago. I was doing a classroom observation in a government school, sitting in the veranda. Overcrowding and lack of space had resulted in the veranda being converted into a classroom. It is still a common sight in many schools, despite massive investments in infrastructure over the last decade. I was sitting in one corner of the class, and could see the village beyond. Suddenly, a boy came running almost out of nowhere and jumped without hesitation into the well adjacent to the school. I was too horrified to react. Some of us, including the children who had seen the boy jump, instinctively got up and ran towards the well. The teacher followed suit. Soon, everyone from the school had gathered around the well. The boy’s brothers had come running after him within a minute. Quickly, to my amazement, a rope was tied in a crisscross manner round the elder brother’s shoulders and waist, and he was lowered into the well. Many villagers had turned up by then. The women were wailing, while the men could be seen arguing heatedly. The boy’s inert body was brought up after what seemed like an eternity. We had stationed our jeep just in case he had to be rushed to the hospital. Luckily, he survived. I learnt later that his elder brother had admonished him. Following an argument, the boy had decided to give it all up.

I was left wondering how fragile human nature is, after all. Steely determination, focus, energy and strong will that we see and experience sometimes gives the strong impression that human nature can withstand much onslaught. What surprises me however, is its fragility. Nowadays, we hear more and more and see more and more of this fragility, through examination related suicides, relationship problems and all other kinds of human issues. A friend of mine had once looked at suicide differently. ‘Contrary to the notion that suicide is an escape from the misery of it all, it is an assertion’, she had said, adding that extreme human will is required to carry out the act. She is right in a way. But I would still maintain that the human will can assert in ways that can prevent self destruction. Perhaps this can happen if one sees meaning in life. When this sense of meaning collapses, it is difficult to carry on. I’m still reading that wonderful book by Victor Frankl titled Man’s Search for Meaning, which talks of hope and emancipation even in as harsh a place as the concentration camps of the second world war. What an amazing story it is!

Then there are some experiences can leave you disturbed for a long time, till you find ways of dealing with them. Dealing usually involves looking at them in perspective, and in believing in oneself. What this essentially means is the development of a certain kind of detachment, and understanding the circumstances that led to those incidents. Subsequent accumulation of a wealth of experiences and wisdom as we grow up can help us appreciate why such a thing happened in the first place. I have usually found that ‘laughing it off’ (which often also involves laughing at oneself) is the best way to deal with the hurt that comes from such experiences. That is what I’m now able to do with my experiences on the cricket field almost thirty years ago.

The year was 1980, and it was the hundredth year of our school. Imagine! I was in grade six. We were all busy preparing for the centenary celebrations. As such, the normal, monotonous routine of the school was broken because of this huge event for which we were getting ready. We were all happy, as we didn’t have to sit through class after class everyday. During that period, I was asked to report for practice in the junior cricket team of the school. Apparently, someone had seen me play in one of those myriad matches that we used to set up during lunch time in the big field, often stacking up our bags or big blocks of stone as the wickets at either end. At any given point during lunch time, there would be at least twenty matches played on our famous big field. I remember that I had somehow developed the skill for producing a prodigious amount of turn with my off breaks. This troubled almost any batsman who faced me.

Iyer, an ex-student of our school, was our coach. He was probably 18 or 20. As soon as I reached for practice after school in the small field, he asked me to do a few rounds and then threw me the leather ball. Unlike the ‘cork’ ball, which was easier to turn, I was unable to turn the leather ball as sharply. But my good line and length and quick movement through the air was enough to still trouble most batsmen. Iyer seemed pleased and he said ‘You are pitching the ball in places that are difficult for the batsmen to play…’ I was pleased as hell and attended practice regularly. I don’t remember much about batting practice, but I remember bowling my heart out everyday. There were sixteen of us who were part of the junior team.

There were my off days as well. After some time, I had more off days than good days at bowling practice. Something was wrong. This resulted in Iyer not interacting with me much. He would only expect me to field and fetch the ball. I would wait longingly for a bowling stint which didn’t come my way for a long time. However, my lunchtime matches continued, and I continued to trouble many batsmen. One fine day, Iyer threw me the ball again. How I troubled Sharath, one of our best batsmen and junior team captain, with my flight and spin! He would dance down the wicket and I would pitch it just a wee bit short. At other times, the trajectory of the ball would draw him forward full stretch. I thought I had rediscovered my lost art. Suddenly, everything looked good. But Iyer still decided not to operate with me everyday at practice. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong and what I could do to change things. No feedback, no conversation.

A few months later, we had the Cottonian shield. The matches were played in the small field of the Bishop Cotton School. We won the first two matches and suddenly found ourselves in the final. I didn’t get to play but got to watch from the sidelines. The final match against Cottons was a three day affair which we lost quite badly. Naturally, the team was dejected.

I remember the prize ceremony and the distribution of certificates. They started calling out our names. I waited for my turn to go up on stage and collect that certificate of participation. That moment never came, and I was too shocked to come to terms with what had happened. The gathering dispersed even as I heard many hurrahs for the winners. All my junior team friends were carrying their certificates on which their names were written. We got into the school van. Sitting quietly in a corner, I tried very hard to suppress a tear. Some of my friends noticed my turmoil but didn’t say anything. I suppose they couldn’t. In a matter of fact way, Iyer told me that there were only 15 certificates prepared. My name had been deliberately left out of that list. Why? Why me? After all those months of practice, and cold shouldering!

Tough times followed for some days. Eventually I got over the incident. Luckily, I didn’t give up cricket. The big field matches and the street matches near home continued as before. I loved the game too much to be bothered about Iyer. A couple of years later, Sharath asked me to report for practice in the senior team. Promptly, I got back to practice. We played many matches. We won some, we lost some. But we didn’t make it to the final of any tournament. I enjoyed the playing, though. I suppose that is what matters, ultimately.

Our school football team was much better. They won the interschool shield in 1984, just a day before Indira Gandhi was assassinated. I remember the extended holiday!

Looking back, I realise what a bad teacher and a bad coach can do. Only my self belief helped me to overcome those initial moments of despondency. Iyer was a bad and insensitive coach, who didn’t believe in open, honest communication, the hallmark of a good teacher. Perhaps he was too young to be one, in the first place! I wonder where he went.

I sometimes worry for my son, who’s taken to practicing cricket in an academy near home. It is a sixty year old club, perhaps the oldest in Bangalore. He practices thrice a week and we play endlessly in our living room and in the backyard. He’s got a good front arm bowling action, and has all the potential to become a good bowler. His batting is improving too. I’m happy he’s pursuing a game of his choice, given that the school he currently goes to does not even have a playground! We’ll change his school next year. I want him to enjoy his game, and will not expect anything more from him.

The beauty of cricket has very nearly been killed by the BCCI, which is run by a bunch of ruthless businessmen who want to milk from it the last drop of money. I don’t see much spontaneity in the way the game is played. We played cricket in every conceivable place without thinking where it would lead us. We enjoyed playing it. Period. Today, everyone seems to be making a plan to make it big. Parents want their children to get into the under 10 league and move up from there. The many different forms of the game have opened up avenues for raking in the moolah. Young children are exposed to it all through television. It is up to the parents and the coaches to tell their children, ‘Look just go out there and enjoy playing the game. It’s a game after all!’ As parents, we need to be careful not to thrust the burden of our expectations on our children. At the same time, we will need to prepare them to handle failure, through self belief. I can only hope that Iyer is doing well, if he is still a cricket coach.

July 2009

A tail for Pi...

Sometime back, there was a discussion on one of the math e-mail groups I'm a part of, regarding the number Pi. This discussion brought back memories of what we did with Pi when I was a teacher at the Valley School (KFI) in Bangalore some 15 years ago. As part of preparations for our science day, we prepared a 'Pi tail'. I had with me a computer generated value of Pi up to 2500 decimal places. The idea was to write out all these decimal places in the form of a tail. So we made strips from newspapers, and using marker pens, wrote out the entire thing! Of course, children came to the math room whenever they were free (many a times, they even bunked classes to make the pi tail!).

On science day, we took out this long tail (which incidentally measured all of 850 feet long) and, starting from the notice board opposite the library, we literally bound the school complex with this tail! It went inside some classrooms, the toilets, and whatever was left of it, children climbed the tree at the jungle gym and let it hang from there! Everyone was curious, particularly the younger children. They were seen running along the length of this number tail. When a few children I taught came up to me and said 'Now we understand why one calls Pi an irrational number...it seems to go on and on without any end!' I knew the Pi tail had made a difference. So much for 'experiential learning'!

Try this out and have fun with your children!

Shesh
July 2008

Did you say 'Kid'?

The other day, there were two surprises. One was an sms from an old classmate of mine, who was my best friend during my 11th and 12th standard days. Well, that was 22 years ago. The other was a call from another classmate, again from the same class. I was not too close to him, but we had been good friends nevertheless. They had got my number from yet another classmate who I had bumped into last year at the Hyderabad airport. Some of my friends from the class of '87 had kept in touch, and it was at one of these recent gatherings that they remembered me. This had resulted in the sms and the call. I went down memory lane. I had to...

The friend who had called is a very enterprising chap, with very good social skills -- I still remember the ease with which he often interacted with people, young and old. He knew so many people and had friends from different colleges in town. He went on to do several things which required him to bring to the fore his people skills. For a long time, he became an event manager for the corporate sector. He was the organizer behind the famous 'Bangalore Habba' (festival) every year. It therefore came as a pleasant surprise for me to learn that the event manager somehow became interested in the education of children, particularly in the ideas of Maria Montessori. He even did a Montesorri course from one of the colleges in the city. With his wife, he then started a chain of Montessori pre-schools in Bangalore, called the 'Roots Montessori' schools. There are four of them now. I was happy to hear about his experiences, and his passion for Montessori's educational ideals engaged as I am, in the education of children since the last fifteen years . 'I believe in total freedom for the child...the heavy bag should be banned!' he proclaimed. Indeed, he was planning to get his five year old son in the well known Valley School which had been established by Jiddu Krishnamurti in the late seventies in a beautiful location some twenty kilometres from Bangalore.

We kept talking abut our families and about our other friends, their families, their kids. I told him I had two kids, and asked him if he had any. He said he had one child. He had been in touch with many other friends from the class of '87. Does any of them have kids, I asked? He solemnly replied that so and so had one child, while so and so had no child...Finally, at one point, he had to cut me off. 'Did you notice that I have been using the word 'child' everytime you use the word 'kid'? I said I did. 'Do you know what 'kid' means'? Again, I replied in the affirmative. 'So, why do we label them as the young ones of a goat'? I explained that it was the first time that such a thought had even been put into my head. capricorn though I am, I had never imagind a goat when I had used 'kid' all these years. 'Let us call them children...let us give them their due', he said. 'Very well, point taken', I said. I knew what he meant, though I argued with him that a verbal shift is not enough.

His point was about semantics. Well, using the right words is perhaps the first step towards a clearer communication and understanding of meanings, without belittling the real nature of people or things. But does it change anything fundamentally, I wondered. The best example perhaps is the term 'differently abled', instead of 'disabled' when we are talking about some people who are in difficulty. 'Disabled' connotes a loss of ability. Yet, 'differently abled' brings back life, and points out that all is not lost, and that the person is able in many different ways. This is a powerful shift, provided it is accompanied by a paradigm shift in thinking, attitude and behaviour towards those who face disability of one kind or the other. Merely using politically correct words does not bring about this shift. It requires far deeper adjustments and changes on our part.

The same is the case with the term 'child'. Even if we were to use it, 'child' would mean different things to different people. To someone who is educated about children and their development, the term would evoke one set of images and meanings. To a parent who is hell bent on ensuring that his son or daughter gets great marks in the examination and always stays ahead of his class, the word will evoke an altogether different set of meanings and images. To use the word child and to appreciate what it means will require much harder work on the part of adults. Notions of child and childhood vary from culture to culture, and they keep changing with the times. Going by the middle class anxiety for performance in the examinations, and going by narrow definitions of what it means to succeed or fail in life, the problem is not so much about using the word kid or child, as long as we remain impervious to the potential of every child to grow as human beings in uniquely different ways.

November 2008

Biochemical Evolution: some questions

I'm today uploading an article I wrote 22 years ago, in 1986! I was in the 11th standard then, full of questions about what we were learning in science. We were studying evolution, which I found quite intriguing. Some questions I had then were: Why did evolution occur at all? What is it that was responsible for 'more advanced' life forms to emerge as the years went by? These and other reflections are part of this article. Our lecturers simply gave us information. They didn't have answers to these questions. I'm not sure if my understanding is better now, but I have read a little bit of Richard Dawkins, Stephen Jay Gould, James Lovelock and Lewis Thomas. These books, together with my own thinking, have helped me along the way...
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Evolution

These days, we are learning about evolution of life on earth. For me, this is a new topic and it surprises me a little that we did not encounter it in school. Anyway, I find the idea of evolution fascinating and I guess it will take some time for me to appreciate its complexity. The big question is: Why did it happen in the first place? And how did it give rise to such an incredible variety of organisms, small and big? The way we are discussing it in class, looks like have taken this mind boggling phenomenon for granted to be just read with the upcoming examinations in mind. The guy who is dealing with this topic is killing it, literally! I wonder why they don’t feel excited about it.

Whether life originated on the earth, or came from outer space, piggy riding some asteroid or meteor a few billion years ago is still being debated but the former hypothesis is more widely established. It is generally accepted that the Viruses were the first ‘organisms’ on the earth, churned out by that process called evolution. It is a bit like magic – the magician keeps stirring this pot containing the ‘primordial soup’ containing air, water and some rag tag chemicals and suddenly, at some point in time, we have these really tiny weeny self-replicating organisms (discovered only in 1898 as microscopes became powerful enough to reveal them) popping out! How did this happen?

The classification of viruses defies taxonomists (the people who classify living things, based on some criteria) till this day. They are ‘common’ to the plant and animal kingdoms (by the way, ‘kingdom’ is a kind of category that taxonomists use), and secondly, they exhibit both living and non-living characteristics! In the laboratory, you can put the virus in deep freeze and it will behave like its dead. When conditions become ‘favourable’ it will thrive and show the characteristics of living cells. Viruses possess the basic materials needed for life – proteins and nucleic acids. The proteins form a capsule or coat around the nucleic acids. The jargon given to us in the class recently is: ‘Viruses are obligate, intracellular parasites’, i.e., they can replicate themselves only in a host cell.

This tiniest of the tiny living thing causes untold damage to the rest of the living species, whatever their pretensions to size and complexity and power may be – we have heard of the HIV which has already brought us much grief and then, I have read somewhere about an even more devastating virus called the Ebola virus which exists in some place in Africa.

From what we have learnt so far, it seems that the evolution of various forms of life ‘began’ from the viruses and it took thousands of millions of years for evolution to ‘make’ us. Our textbooks tell us that Mycoplasmatales (also known as Mycoplasmas) were the next products of evolution after the viruses. This is the message I get because the Mycoplasmas chapter comes after the one on viruses! They look a little more intricate that the viruses. However, Mycoplasmas, like the viruses, cannot be classified definitely as belonging to the plant or animal kingdom.

How did Mycoplasmas come on the scene? What were the factors that caused this change? It is tempting to think of a change in the environment which ‘forced’ the viruses to adapt themselves in order to ‘become’ mycoplasmas! It is difficult to think of any other reasons at this stage and I do not see the viruses ‘feeling’ something inside of themselves as a result of which they ‘evolved’ to give rise to the new, slightly more advanced organism. It is interesting to note that we humans also change when something external to us, changes. And I suppose that we ‘grow’ as a result of the things that we learn from these changes – in this sense, we too evolve. Or so I think! We cannot live alone.

Let us take this further. The blue-green algae, which contain the bluish green pigment, came next. All the three forms of life mentioned so far – viruses, mycoplasmas and the algae -- are examples of very ‘primitive’ (or ‘prokaryotic’) organisms. They do not contain the specialized structures that a well-developed cell contains, and their metabolism is not very complicated. However, the algae are more intricate than the mycoplasmas which in turn look more complicated under the microscope than the viruses. We are given to understand that ‘animal like’ cells, like the Euglena, would have appeared next. These were followed by ‘proper’ animal cells, like the shapeless Amoeba and later, the Paramecium, which has a definite shape.

Again, I come back to the question raised earlier – what changed in the environment for this diversification to occur along two well defined routes? And what was the distinction at that stage – that animal cells cannot make food like the plant cells do…?

As we went along, we realized that the process of evolution witnessed a turning point of sorts, with the emergence of the Bacteria. Structurally and functionally, the bacterial cells are more complicated than the others discussed so far. The presence of different elements or parts in the bacterial cell -- the cell wall, protoplast, cell membrane, cytoplasm, nucleoid, ribosomes, etc. point out to a well organized cellular set-up. It is a bit like comparing the difference between nomadic man and the chap who settled down much later inside a home and started doing some agriculture. Life then became a little more organized and one didn’t have to live only on instinct.

Now these Bacteria may also be ‘photosynthetic’ – that is, they can make food using a pigment called chlorophyll. There is general agreement that these organisms belong to the plant kingdom. Does this mean that plants appeared before the animals on earth? More specifically -- did ‘plant like’ characteristics appear first? What were the reasons for this to happen? Only more questions! We have been taught that plants and animals have to depend on each other for survival. Does this interdependence apply even to the most primitive organisms, perhaps extending to the furthest reaches of evolutionary time? It is then striking that the characteristics of plants appeared first.                                

It is indeed tempting to believe that these evolutionary processes (including the diversification along the two different paths – the plants and the animals) were the result of accident. I wonder how it can be explained. It is equally attractive to consider the proposition that everything was ‘pre-determined’ (by whom?!).  

The formation of the sexes was a very important event, for, it ensured species propagation. Prokaryotic cells can reproduce only asexually, whereas the more advanced (eukaryotic as they are called) cells can reproduce through conjugation. Humans do it this way! However, in the case of the earliest organisms, it is difficult to distinguish the sexes morphologically (meaning, it is not very obvious from physical appearance). As we climb the ladder of evolution, it is not difficult to differentiate between plants and animals. The identification of the sexes also becomes easier.

We have very briefly touched upon this thing called evolution with these examples. The question that keeps coming back to us is about the role of the environment, and the interaction between changes in this environment and the living organisms, which over a period of time actually resulted in more diversity, intricacy and complication of forms – and, I would also like to add, abilities as well. This seems to be a dynamic process which I do not think has stopped to this day. Why was diversity important? In addition to diversity, we also see a progressive complication of living forms from the tiniest, most primitive organisms, to this human who is self aware and conscious, who is in a position to ask such questions and probe into the nature of things. How did this happen?

I asked this question in class today but our lecturer did not have any satisfactory answer. He mumbled something about ‘survival of the fittest’ (that famous Darwinian slogan of sorts!) but I couldn’t make out who was fitter – the viruses, the mycoplasmas or the bacteria? All the three organisms exist even today! If one of them had been fitter and more powerful, the others may not have existed. The issue, therefore, cannot be explained away as easily. 

My answer would be – the earth has been continuously changing since the time it was formed 5 billion years ago. Its surface has undergone major upheavals through earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, etc. and temperatures have kept changing, becoming progressively cooler. It is quite possible that the molecules of life must have felt (what does this mean though?!) these changes. Through complex chemical reactions, these molecules would have adapted to these changes. And adaptation is perhaps the basis for complex forms to get generated as the aeons go by.

The central question which I never tire of asking, is why did evolution take place at all? Was it inevitable, given the conditions available as the earth passed through different stages after its formation? And again -- why would changes in the environment necessarily lead to the formation of ‘better’, or ‘more advanced’ organisms? Why, for instance, should the Paramecium evolve as the next organism in the evolutionary ladder after the amoeba?

There ends my quest for answers at present. It is possible that if evolution is viewed from a different perspective, these questions can be answered. Who knows, I may be the one who will do it at a later stage…

May 1986

Bangalore

History of Teacher Development in Tamilnadu

My current research interests are focused on writing up the History of Teacher Development in India. This is a multi-state study commissioned by the Azim Premji Foundation, and I'm part of the research team, writing up on the subject for Tamilnadu and Kerala (and a small note on Jammu and Kashmir, with special reference to my experiences of working in Kargil in the past one and a half years). Our cut off point is the National Policy on Education (NPE, 1986). So, for all the states chosen for the study (Tamilnadu, Kerala, Maharashtra, West Bengal, Rajasthan and to a limited extent, J&K), we are doing a fairly detailed documentation of efforts in the last 20-25 years. Such a comprehensive documentation does not exist at present.
I have finished writing the Tamilnadu chapter and thought of sharing this with those of you who would be interested in knowing what has been happening with teachers there.
Researching Tamilnadu and its teachers has definitely been an eye opener. Though I have been
working in education for 15 years now, I have realized that it is only when one examines a theme or subject in greater detail that one begins to appreciate its various dimensions. Historical research is a powerful tool that enables us to go down to root causes and determine the complex interconnected factors that influence many a development in policy and practice.
Without getting into details here, all that I would to state is that the Tanilnadu study made me sit up in alarm, for what the state is doing to its teachers is not in their interest, and icertainly not in the interest of children, if one goes by current trends and developments. There is hope, for sure, but the gains made can very quickly be negated by retrogressive measures...
To obtain the full textof what we have found in Tamilnadu, e-mail me at giri.shesh@gmail.com
By the month end, I hope to write the Kerala chapter as well...

The Dance of Life...

Years ago, when I was in school, I was often asked by elders in the family about what I wanted to become after growing up. I remember that my answer always unhesitatingly was ‘astronomer’, much to their surprise. Then, on one occasion, when there was a family function at a temple in some congested street of Bangalore, my cousin’s husband, who had a ‘good career’ going as an engineer, told me in no uncertain terms that astronomy wouldn’t do as a career. At best, he said, I could get into some unknown college or university and remain a lecturer all my life! The ‘lecturership’ didn’t sound perturbing at all, as did his admonishing tone. Little did I realize then the harsh realities of the world, and of growing up in it -- the constant pressure to perform, be ‘molded’ as the adults around us wished, and take up careers ‘approved’ in society. Little did my cousin’s husband realize the joys of peering through the telescope and asking – how big is the universe? Where did it come from? Was it always there? Is there life elsewhere…? He perhaps thought that all of this would be best done after retirement!
Twenty years hence, I’ve missed my astronomy bus, and, working in the social development sector, I still ask these questions. My cousin’s husband has retired, and is now looking to marry off his daughters to ‘US-based’ grooms. My guess is that he still hasn’t peered through a telescope.Some questions though, remain. To begin with, thanks to my exposure in the field of education, I constantly ask – what should the purpose of education be? Gandhi had said, ‘By education I mean an all round drawing out of the best in child and man – body, mind and spirit.’ That does sound vague and distant doesn’t it, if one goes by what one sees today in the name of education?
Let me not get stuck with definitions at this stage, and instead move on to a more complex issue – the relationships between the development of our potential as human beings, our upbringing, the education system, the work we do in our lives, and our ability to be happy. What are the mechanisms available for each of us to realize our innate potential through work that pays, and makes us happy? One of the organization’s that I worked for has a laudable vision of ‘…a world in which children realize their full potential…in societies that respect people’s rights and dignities…’ I do believe, however, that we haven’t reflected what this vision means as regards action. What does ‘development of full potential’ mean? When do we know if someone has developed his/her full potential? What are the links with schools and education, for instance?
In my own case, these links are not straightforward. I graduated as a mechanical engineer, worked in the corporate sector, then became a schoolteacher with the Valley School, Bangalore (as part of the J. Krishnamurti Foundation, India), then entered the social development arena with ‘Samuha’, an NGO in Northern Karnataka, became a ‘consultant’ with the Govt. of India for a large primary education program, then ‘advised’ three funding agencies regarding their investments in education. I’m now a freelancer and a wanderlust, journeying in education, and through life. That’s longwinded, isn’t it? I may get back to teaching next. I’m not sure if my potential is being fully used, but I do feel strongly that this is one of the things I would like to be doing. The mechanisms in society were not enabling, and one had to work one’s way around. Then there were those who tirelessly pointed out that I had ‘got it all wrong, that I was an escapist…’, but this didn’t deter me from carrying on.
We may find some answers in the field of economics. The economy, it is said, is the ‘happening’ thing that defines peoples’ lives – how we live, what we wear, what we think and so on...Perhaps it may enlighten us if we understand it better. Large amounts of money, including those in mega scams, exchange hands; large volumes of goods move from one part of the world to the other…all these activities are supposed to bring more comforts, make more people happy, generate jobs, and ‘uplift’ people. Or so we believe.The ‘state of the economy’ is often talked about, and I wonder what that means. This is a funny way of capturing the quality of people’s lives through some numbers. As an aside, what puzzles me, however, is that we have business leaders and politicians patting each other’s backs for ‘low inflation’ and India as a ‘knowledge superpower’, while millions sleep hungry every night…
Economy or not, I see many persons unemployed around me. The connections are indeed intriguing, if they are examined further. Our education system creates round pegs that have to fit in square holes – there are graduates and postgraduates who ride motorcycles and deliver Mc Donald’s pizzas at your door step; mad caps like me; business executives who earn six figure salaries every month and still cannot be happy. And don’t forget the hundreds that Osama Bin Laden, George Bush and the RSS/VHP have managed to inspire… It takes, as they say, all kinds of persons to make this world, to produce all kinds of goods and services. You give something (your understanding, skills…), and take something back…I’m not sure if that maximizes our potential, keeps us and others around us happy, and pays reasonably. A quick look around at a world in which there are gross inequalities, violence, large-scale environmental degradation…leaves you with a feeling that something is terribly wrong, somewhere. I’m sure all of this is connected with the questions I have raised earlier about the ‘relationships between the development of our potential as human beings, our upbringing, the education system, the work we do in our lives, and our ability to be happy...’ As an afterthought, I also wonder if the business of happiness is connected to these things, or, as they say, ‘is in the mind.’ You decide.
Shesh (November 2003)
Updated: April 2008

A bus with a view

I

The little boy and his father finally got a chance to get on to a bus together one evening. It was one of those days when their car was at the service station. In fact, the boy and his father were going to fetch the car from the service station that evening.
For a long time, the father had told himself: “I must take the little fellow for bus rides in the city. It will be a different experience all together…” For a long time, the city bus ride remained just that – a thought that sometimes nagged and reminded. Partly because the boy’s father travelled so much on work (which left him with less time to spend with the family), and partly because the boy’s mother was not happy with the idea (that it was not safe for her young son to travel by the local bus), the practice of using buses by the family had dwindled. She could not understand why bus travel was on her husband’s mind, when he and her son could have travelled by the auto-rickshaw. When middle class families are upwardly mobile, and are on an acquiring and consuming spree, they would like to show that ‘they have arrived’. Bus travel then, among other frugal practices of living, is one of the casualties. It is even considered to be ‘below one’s status level.’
That evening, all of this changed for a few hours.
They would have to travel by at least two buses to reach the service station located at the other end of the city. The city itself had grown in size, and travelling to the other end took a much longer time than before. It was that much more difficult as well. The boy’s father has seen a smaller, greener city with less people, less noise, less vehicles and more lakes. The city was often called ‘The Air Conditioned City’. It was also called the ‘Pensioner’s Paradise’. You could retire here, and hope to lead a peaceful life.
The boy’s father had often noted, “Not only is this city expanding horizontally, it is growing vertically too!” The flat system was largely unknown in the early 80’s. Like a plague, it dominated the city’s landscape now. There were flats of all shapes and sizes – they came at all costs, catering to many tastes and fantasies. They were fancily named, too – the names suggested a longing for all things European. From a distance, the boy’s father had recently been shown an ‘ultra-modern’ flat adjacent to the city’s famous cricket stadium. He had learnt that it had a swimming pool on every floor! He had then thought, “So, this is what we mean by modernity, eh? The more modern you are, the more you consume. The more you flaunt. They drain all the water from the ground and pump it up for these people to live their lifestyles!” Not far away, people queued for water everyday and had to wait for hours.
The flat system also stimulated his imagination. He found the practice of ‘living on top of each other’ (as he called it) amusing, and did not like it much. He was used to living and growing up in houses that were independent, small or big. Many times he had worn his X-ray glasses, and looked at the first flat that came his way. Shorn of the arrogance of these structures and their names, he witnessed a variety of human experience, the eternal drama of everyday living – men, women and children going about their daily chores in their living rooms, bedrooms, kitchens, toilets; fornicating men and women, making guttural sounds; crying and playing children; bedridden old men and women; snatches, of conversations, arguments and fights; women being abused by their men; men being shouted at by their women; clothes on the clotheslines in the balcony; audacious looking dresses, both inner and outer; people meditating and praying.
All on top of each other, at right angles, in boxes of various shapes and sizes, people led their lives.
II
The little boy and his father excitedly got into the first bus that would take them part of the way, till the main city bus terminus in a place called ‘Majestic’. Not too many passengers were around, so the boy got a seat next to the window. This is what his father had wanted for him.
Just two minutes into the bus ride, the boy exclaimed, “I can see so much!” The bus was stuck in a traffic snarl and was slowly winding its way through some by-lanes of Malleshwaram, the crowded, bustling area in the Northern part of the city. A year ago, these lanes had not seen buses and much traffic. People who lived here had led quieter and less smoke filled lives then. Thanks to an explosion in vehicular population, the Pensioner’s Paradise struggled to keep up pace. Flyovers, ‘Fly-unders’, expressways, widening of roads…these had become a common sight. In an effort to provide a ‘Mass Rapid Transport System’, the city’s planners and politicians had embarked on the ambitious metro rail project. As a result, bus routes had changed, and regular commuters got to see parts of the city they had never seen before.
Trees were the first casualty, and tree lovers routinely held protests. Shop keepers too protested, when they were told that their shops would be demolished to make way for the metro. For the rest of the city dwellers, it was a saga of endless traffic jams and dust. Two ways became one ways, and one ways became two ways overnight.
“Look at that man -- he is changing his clothes!” The window seat afforded the little boy a peep into a bedroom off the narrow road.
“Why has the bus stopped?” the boy wondered. “Hey, look! They are playing a game on the laptop!” The man stretched to look out of the window and saw a car standing adjacent to the bus. Two boys in the backseat were oblivious to the din and smoke outside. Immediately, he was reminded of a bus ride he had had in Delhi some months ago on his way to Jaipur. Three boys were watching a blue movie in the backseat of an air conditioned car. He even remembered the scene in which the woman was on top. The car gradually drew away with its lustful spectacle inside. “Isn’t it strange?” The man wondered. Technology can do all kinds of things for us, yet in most cases we seem to be using it to sate our carnal instincts.” He had read somewhere that a significant amount of traffic on the internet was to access all kinds of porn material.
“So, are you enjoying the ride?” asked the father. “Yes, I can see so much! We can’t see all this when we drive in our car, right? I am sitting so high above the road.”
The bus moved ever so slowly and they passed a line of shops in a narrow road that had not seen so much traffic. The boy looked on intently, through the window. His father knew that he was absorbed in the new spectacle his bus seat offered him. Position changes perspective, right? A few minutes later, the boy dozed off.
III
They had to change buses at the central bus station in Majestic. The next bus ride was longer, as the distance covered was more. Since everyone had poured out of their offices, schools and colleges by then, there were traffic snarls everywhere. Nice word, this. In a traffic jam, everyone ends up snarling at everyone else.
In the second bus which they boarded at Majestic, some one sitting behind started talking with the little boy. ‘What’s your name? Which school do you go to?’ Then he was tickled! After a while, this interaction ceased. By then, they were passing by the city’s horse racing course. Thanks to a flyover constructed right next to the course, the boy was able to see the outline of the course, but not much was visible, as it had become dark. Throughout the ride, the boy’s father kept pointing out various landmarks in the city. The famous Town Hall, the Botanical Gardens…a discussion about these spaces followed.
A few minutes later, a woman in a black gown got into the box. Her face was covered as well. The boy asked, ‘Who is she and why is she wearing a dress like that?’ Asking a question like that was easy, but answering it was not! His father had to explain the background of that dress worn specifically by women in Muslim communities. It was called the ‘Burqa’ and the practice of wearing it to prevent men from seeing women, was called ‘Purdah’. ‘But why should she wear that, and why can’t men see her…?’ was the next question. The man wondered: ‘Is this what a bus ride can do to my son’s curiosity?’ He began to realize how much of the real world is blocked when one travels in a car.
Ultimately, everything depends upon one’s vantage point. Like the car, the bus is a bigger box which we inhabit for a limited time when we travel from one place to another. Unlike the car, the bus allows us to socialise and interact with other human beings. This changes our perspectives about others and about living, if we allow ourselves to learn. Economic mobility is fine, but it tends to isolate and segregate people from each other. Not only that – more importantly, it cuts you off from nature – we begin to live inside boxes. It makes you consume more, without regenerating nature.
The other point is this: one’s vantage point also helps to decide how much one wants to get out of life. Limitless living is possible when, through exploration, we keep shifting vantage points, each point offering us a broader yet in depth experience of life itself.
All these points were not lost on the boy’s father as they headed home after collecting their car.
April 2008
Bangalore