Wednesday, December 26, 2007

For you Ma...



Ma recently completed 25 years of service as a Mathematics teacher in her school. She’s one of the senior-most teachers in the school and teaches eleventh and twelfth standard students. There was a silent ceremony in our school (I am an alumni) wherein she, along with the other staff members who had completed their 25 yrs, was given a token of appreciation (that being a shawl and a shield honoring her, for her dedicated service). A student said something for a few minutes about the teachers, and then some pics were taken, and then everyone got back to their routine work.

Since the past ten to twelve years, Ma has been extremely unhappy by the drastic transformation in the working atmosphere in the school. Her first problem is an extremely unfriendly and a hegemonist boss (the Principal), who hates South Indians, and loathes experienced teachers and abhors those who don’t grovel and go out of the way to please her. This makes Ma fulfil all the noble prerequisites for being the perfect enemy. And this goes for all the other South Indian/ experienced/ self respecting teachers in the school.

Treasuring an old employee always helps.

There are some incredulous rules in the school. Some of them that are on the top of my mind are listed below:

1. Teachers are not supposed to leave the classroom in between a period. Even if it is an emergency (like an urgent call from home, or to get a book/paper to be used during the period, or even if it’s going to the loo!). Otherwise a memo shall be issued for the lack of dedication and frivolous attitude towards work.

2. Teachers are not supposed to sit while teaching. Not even for a minute. Otherwise a memo shall be issued for the lack of dedication and frivolous attitude towards work. Ditto while invigilating an examination. Mind you… this means a person roams around for three hours at a stretch without rest. And ambling around isn’t even an exercise. No consideration for his/her age or health.

3. There should be no cuts or over writing on the report card. Otherwise a memo shall be issued for the lack of dedication and frivolous attitude towards work. Now this is very necessary. The class teacher should be very particular about the quality of her work. Especially when she has over 40-50 report cards, a student ‘character and performance appraisal’ commentary form attached to each of them, (which would be nothing short of a brief essay on each student’s yearly performance). No negative comments mind you. Otherwise a memo shall be issued for the insensitive attitude towards the student.

4. A teacher cannot go out of the premises during working hours(8.00 a.m. to 2.00 p.m.). Not even during lunch period. Otherwise it shall be considered a half day or a full day leave as the case may be, even if she/he falls ill during the day and is taken to the hospital. If there is no leave remaining, the next attack is on earn leaves. Commendable. Now no teacher can bunk the lunch period and go to the nearby bank to withdraw some money. He/she WILL HAVE TO HAVE lunch and tea during the break. And now it’s easier. The break is just for fifteen minutes. So by the time someone suffering from arthritis climbs down the stairs and reaches the staff room, the period’s actually over. Awesome. Some brains can really work!

And then there are some uglier, unsaid rules of the game. Favorite teachers are always safe. They never get memos. They are never shouted at. They are never ridiculed in front of their students. They are made in charge of various programs or heads of departments without any prior notice to the existing teachers in-charge of the same. They never have tight working schedules (read eight out of nine periods of breathing chalk powder and shrieking your guts out… of course standing throughout).

A happy employee results in a happy customer.

Ma’s second problem is the increasing detachment from her students. One can imagine a strict, middle aged, sari-clad South Indian Math teacher. Ma’s just like that. When she used to teach us, Ma was known for her straight faced one liner jokes and also for the way she used to control her students. I still remember us nick naming her RDX. Yeah yeah… me too.

Now the situation is completely different. The students have absolutely no fear, no respect for the old teachers, she claims. They crack jokes at their face, throw things at them, snap back and sometimes even threaten to sue them. As school kids, even we used to be mischievous, used to crack jokes and blah blah. But the intensity and intentions were different then. And in spite of all of that, used to love our teachers. But, the courtesy and empathy is all gone now. What add to the trauma, are the school rules which admonish teachers from being insensitive and rude to children. One cannot even raise one’s voice, leave alone punishing them.

Ma hates going to a place where her experience and knowledge is considered irrelevant by her seniors and her students. It’s only natural. Each day, I helplessly watch her go into depression. She remains quiet most of the time and refuses to socialize with people. She has lost all her energy and verve to work. “Im waiting for Unni (my brother) to get settled in his life”, she would say. So many times I’ve asked her to change her job, but I get the same reply all the time. “I’m too old for such a big change. Moreover, it’s the same story in all the schools you know.”

I am dead against Corporal Punishment. I feel it demeans a child and destroys his sense of confidence. Absolutely. But scolding a child for his mistakes is not wrong. All of us have been scolded and punished for our stupidities during school days. I have such a nice time reminiscing about good ol days... I still love all my teachers... Dearly. And i believe that it's because of their help and blessings that i am what i am today.

I really cannot understand why things are always on either extremes. Either the students are severely treated and harassed mentally, physically and sexually, or teachers are tortured, ridiculed, admonished and treated like dirt. If measures are being taken to make pedagogy efficient, then this should be a two sided process. If the teachers’ power to punish and scold is being taken away, then the students also shouldn’t have any right to abuse a teacher. Why should there be a lack of parity here? After all, the act of ridiculing affects everyone in the same way- be it a teacher or a student. The schools should have equal rules for both the teachers and the students.

"Teaching is a noble profession." Rightly said. And it is up to us to keep it like that in future as well.

That all.. Hmph!!!

Monday, December 24, 2007

The 'Others'


They don’t crib about music being too loud at ‘Blues’, CP. They never wonder how people survive without non vegetarian food. They have never tasted biscuits, ice cream, soft drinks; don’t know what pizzas are. May be, they have seen the wrappers with the other mucky bits of cardboard and paper they collect everyday. They can never roll up the windows of their cars, switch on the AC and frown at the pollution. They don’t know what laptops are. They never celebrate their birthdays. They don’t have a favorite brand, sometimes no family, no caste, no religion, not even an identity.

Yet they live.

The whole point is not to sell the idea by making it sound poignant and sad. The point I’m trying to make here is, that we should never, NEVER forget that there are people in this world who are less privileged than we are. And that doesn’t stop them from being what they are, and deprive them of their right to be respected. The fellow who sells groundnuts in the neighbourhood, the kids who hunt for stuff through the dumps in the nearby municipal garbage chute, the maid who cleans your home, the beggar ladies and street urchins who run to you outside Mc. D in Noida, the rickshaw pullers, or the 'chotu' working at the dhaba… all have a right to live, to be respected. And that just because they are penniless, doesn’t mean they have lost the right to be treated right. Specially the kids. In the tender stage of learning about the solar system and row multiplication, they roam around in rags without proper food and shelter. While a number take to slavery and prostitution, many fall prey to drugs and illegal organ trafficking.

Somehow I feel a sudden rush of shame when I see them, shame of being better off than them. I don’t think they are any less mortal and deserving than I am. What is it that saved me from destitution? What makes me worthy of what I have today and what I wear? They could be as good human beings as I am. Maybe better ones at that. I can almost hear my conscience sneering at me as I try to look away and deliberately avoid the grim ironies of life.

I don’t think they really need our sympathy. They are proud to be what they are, I say. These guys share this planet with the Ambanis and Bill Gates and Warren Buffets of this world, and are not any less deserving than anyone who is reading this as well. I just want people to remember this the next time they flinch at some slum nearby.

I am no Robin Hood, just a fellow blogger who thought of spreading the word. A smile, a good deed and a kind word would do. If that is too much, then poverty would have a new meaning. Heh.

This New Year, when you resolve to stick to a good diet plan, exercise regularly, drink or smoke less, just add one more check to the list- that of being a good human being. Know why it is an innocuous exercise? That’s because it is only the equals and the wealthier that have the ability to harm you. Or do some good, if they too resolve in being kind to people less privileged than them.

Following is a hymn we used to sing in schooldays… Used to be… No it still is my favourite. It's short and simple, but has a very nice message. Here Goes...


When upon life’s billows you are tempest tossed,
When you are discouraged thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the lord hath done.

Count your blessings name them one by one
Count your blessings see what God hath done.
Count your blessings; name them one by one.
And it will surprise you what the lord hath done.

Are you ever burdened with a load of care
Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?
Count your blessings angels will attend,
Health and comfort bring you to your journey’s end.

Count your blessings name them one by one
Count your blessings see what God hath done.
Count your blessings; name them one by one.
And it will surprise you what the lord hath done.

Friday, December 14, 2007

The spirit within...

I have only heard of the way youngsters and believers gather to roam around home to home and sing carols during christmas. In my life hitherto, have never seen or experienced this concept yet, albeit being in the school choir for about six years (was a christian missionary aided school). Being a Hindu has never stopped me, my Ma or my Bhai from engaging in Christmas celebrations. I guess we used to celebrate Christmas with the same enthu as during Onam (mallu harvest festival, celebrated in the month of September) or Vishu (mallu new year, April). In school, we used to start singing carols every morning, start December 1st, and that would continue till the last day before the Xmas holidays. But never have i ever come across 'real' christmas carol singers.

So when i saw our HR manager Sheoran's mail in my outlook inbox today morning, i was, both bewidered and overjoyed. Bewildered, because i had just read one of the weirdest things one would have ever heard of- a group of school kids were invited to our office premises today to perform skits, sing carols etc. (WHAT THE...!!!). And overjoyed because I would have loved to relive my days from school, that of being together, and happy, that of giving and sharing and blah blah... and of course experience the real carol singing at last.


********


"$#%*$%!!!!.. This is not happening! If this shit happens when im with my client, im all f***ed for sure.", Sajit fumed, standing at his workstation.

The crab smiled. She doesnt have loads to work on today. Projects finished. Drafts submitted. Heh, Perfect.

It was 12.30 and no one stirred from their seat. In a few minutes, the seniors got up and walked towards the door. "If anyone's feeling Christmassy, please do come down to the cafeteria." I heard a bored tone rise amidst the tapping sounds on the comp keyboards.

The crab looked around again. No one seemed to be getting up to go. "Should I?.. I so want to!." One of them suddenly jumped to his feet to pronounce that they should go downstairs, and the very next moment she found herself climbing down the stairs as if the office coffee machine had exploded.


********

It was a group of about fifteen-twenty kids, all about five to six years old, singing "We wish you a merry christmas...". The place was already full of people from our ground floor office, right where the HR guy sits. (Pulled into it, as was apparent from the looks on thier faces). Four of us from the consulting div. stood at the door and watched the toddlers perform- A few were plump and red, wobbling around like Russian dolls, and some others dark and lean with mischieveous eyes, some with two of their front teeth missing (Heh!), and some were absolutely sleepy and lost.


The corporates inside exchanged nervous glances as the kids performed their bit of Xmas thingy. A few outside chatted loudly, while others shifted their weight from one feet to the other, seeming uncomfortable. Probably it was some presentation to be completed within the next couple of hours. Or probably it was an urgent con call, maybe some model to be debugged. Or was it? Maybe they were nervous of confronting the long forgotten innocence and gaiety, which was being displayed right in front of their eyes then.


Did they want to show off how uninteresting all that was? I doubt. I saw many of them supress a laugh at something humorous in the skit, as if letting out a laugh would transform them into the lowest forms of life on Earth. Why were they so afraid of acknowledging the cuteness of the whole situation? What where they scared of?


I, with a few other interested ones, stood with my eyes affixed on the young crowd. As they performed their skit, i heard someone pass comments and giggle at some crappy joke. I ignored. Right in front of my eyes was my childhood. My Christmas, reminding me of the cakes, the gifts, the songs. I realised even after so many years it still lived somewhere inside me. The spirit. The Christmas spirit. "Rudlph the red nosed reindeer...", I sang with the kids in the lowest voice possible, lest my paroxysm of nostalgia frightened the grown ups around me. And as the strands of my memories uncoiled, i couldn't help but stand sighing... all nostalgic and teary eyed.


I wonder why we adults are so dismissive about kids. I feel one can learn so many things just by observing them. As for those who were making merry cracking ugly jokes, i dont know whether to call them immature or too mature to understand the kids, or their skit or even the situation. It is not the Christmas spirit they lack. It is the spirit per se. They have 'grown up'. I feel so sorry for them. And thank God I'm still my crazy kiddo self.


********

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Here today, Gone tomorrow...

Tomorrow, when i would have gone a long way in life,
One day, I may, recall Today.

I would smile at my trials to sound intelligent,
"As if it was so necessary, silly me", I'd say to myself.
I would hate the way I snapped back at people and thought highly about myself
"So shallow, so false", I'll smirk.
I would reminisce about the times i spent dreaming of rose blooms
And inhale deeply trying to smell the magic,
Wishing it to be lingering still, somewhere in the corner of my minds.
I would mull over the chats and the pretty laughs,
The unmindful banter and nonchalant decisions.
I would love my life, still want to rewind,
and sigh at what i left back carelessly.
I would treasure the memories, with their scent and color et all.
And would go back into my shell when id want to relive them.

Thank God... There's time for tomorrow...

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Where?

Here.
There's no need to hide from anyone,
I stand erect and correct all the time.
No fears.
No hesitations.
No shames.
Here
There's no one - just me,
I run around liberated, ecstatic.
There's space.
There's love.
There's acceptance.
Here
There's nothing that is portrayed unreal,
I see things plain and simple.
Sans show offs.
Sans shallow egos.
Sans make ups.
Here
There's no need to prove myself,
I smile at my face unveiled.
Im Strong.
Im Intelligent.
Im Lovely.
Here
I am Me.

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Need not be a Monday for the Crab....



"Is it my mood... or is everything actually blue?"






Monday, December 3, 2007

Grey Noise

If only I could describe the awkward state of mind I am in...

Of what is right and wrong for me, I was so sure… I don’t remember quite clearly when I lost my confidence in my decisions... my choices... Of doing something believing THIS is what it should be, albeit, later I might feel I could have done better at that. At least I used to be happy about the fact that at any point of time; I knew what I was doing. And why I was doing it.
Quite unlike what I am today… or should I say what I am in…

Haze. White and pure. Translucent and torturous. I blink at my future, which slyly smiles and dares me act. I wait patiently for the enigma to unfold.

Quagmire. Of unending doubts and confusion. Am too scared to tread the wrong path... too scared of facing dire repercussions. I don’t think I have the mettle to handle that anymore.

Stringed to fate. I pity at myself for my act of submission… to wait for the right time, to wait for the right thing to happen. To wait for anything to happen.

Envious. Of those who know what they are doing; they are all around me, moving on like automatons; with me standing at sidelines, searching for a hint to my life unknown.

Silent. Amidst the clash of rights and wrongs, amidst the din of my own thoughts.

Lost.

Because I don’t know whether the wait is worth it…

Because I don’t know what I am waiting for…

If only...

Saturday, December 1, 2007

Post-'New Post' syndrome..

"Shucks... that was an awful one... "