Wednesday, July 11, 2012

The Vernacular Debate



English medium education and a large English speaking population has worked wonders for the country. "A large English speaking workforce" is arguably the second most important selling point for investors after "a large(hence cheap) workforce."
Communication is not lost in translation. Its the ideal destination for outsourcing, back-end jobs and all tasks that can be completed by following a sequenced set of instructions.


An even larger Non-English speaking workforce works equally well for the economy. They're readily available for work in the manufacturing industry and sweatshops. They're not allowed to dream big and keep themselves in their places. They're a large in numbers(hence cheap) workforce.


The success story is excellent on paper. The growth drivers look just right for steering a fast growing economy to success. India's the world's 4th largest economy by Purchasing Power Parity.


Well, that's just the brighter side.

The nation is still and also estimated to have a third of the world's poor37% of the total Indian people falls below the national poverty line of Rs 37 per day.(The poverty limit is another joke on human intelligence anyway).


The school dropout rate is extremely high. A great percentage of population in underdeveloped states challenges the relevance of compulsory education. Levels of homelessness, health, human development factors continue to rank amongst the world's lowest.

The other day I had a conversation from a simple man from a small city in rural Maharshtra, who came to Mumbai years ago, works as a bartender at a small time bar. What prospects does he have for the future. He can aspire to open his own bar. Alas! He cannot. In the F&B industry dominated by the English speaking elite, no one would take him seriously. He wouldn't be able to find partners, the bank would consider his loan applications stupid and the investors(even Indian) wouldn't know his language.



The problem with English medium education is that only a minuscule percentage. Only 27.8% of the population lives in 5500 urban towns/cities. Even in the most optimistic estimates only 12-15% would live in the 300 biggest urban centers.


So only 5-7% of the population can afford education in private schools or Pratibha Vikas Schools or Kendriya Vidyalayas.
English education given in vernacular medium government schools across the nation is substandard. Hence the vast majority of our educational institutions produce vernacular-speaking manpower fit only for blue collar jobs.




This English speaking population then runs the majority of our enterprises. This population forms the majority of people who can even dream about entrepreneurship. No wonder the country has to import jobs from foreign entrepreneurs.

Social equality starts with equal educational opportunities. English education for all is NOT the solution. Its impractical to find English speaking teachers for the entire nation's students.

The second social model is Japan or any of the European/American nations, everyone is taught in the same language. The local language. A man with modest education but the right attitude can climb up the entrepreneurial ladder. The judgement of a person's intellect is not based on his/her language skills but his intellect.

The divide between the rich and poor. The inability of the poor to uplift themselves despite the presence of great opportunities. The ineffectiveness of the "trickle down effect " can never be addressed unless an average Indian is allowed to work, study, fall in love, judged and allowed to look for opportunities in his mother tongue.


The Vernacular Language.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

The Dissection of a Love's Death


You don’t believe in relationships. You’re too wild a stag to be tamed. Ungettable. You’ve been single since almost forever now and you enjoy every bit of it. You party hard, are up for intimacy without the intricacy. You’d die single, you’re genuinely happy to admit it to yourself.

Well, she’s almost the same. The problem.

It’s the perfect combination. You’re wildly happy when together. You tell each other what you have is nothing, but your heart still skips a beat when you kiss her goodbye, but you’re both scared of admitting it to yourselves or each other. Your friends who’re too used to you being the whore suddenly sit up and notice what’s up?

Your union feels just perfect. Your bodies are meant for each other and there’re fireworks everywhere around you. Why would you do it with a hundred weird people when this one is just perfect for you?

That’s how some people embrace monogamy. Slowly, scared and very carefully. Scared because you’re scared of your own fiddle mind and you might hurt the other one.

But for the first time you really care. You admit it to them. Impulsively casually. She accepts she’s held it in for too long as well.

You’re just perfect. Equally mad. Equally fucked up.

Dedicate a song for yourself because suddenly you feel like you invented love. Fall in love. Be in love.

Meet a cute girl and notice it. Don't flirt with her, but think about her for the rest of the day. Have sex with your partner that night, 'cause since you saw that girl, all you've wanted to do was fuck. But all this is normal, and you still love your girlfriend, really and truly. Honestly, actually.

Have your first fight. Don’t talk for a day and make up quickly. Have your first string of fights. Say mean stuff, very mean. Hurt her, get yourself hurt. There’s a weird pleasure in this pain.

Go for an open relationship. Your relationship is now “secure.” Realize what you had been missing all this while. Live your single self again. Live the life you’ve been missing. Get bored. You’re perfect for each other. Embrace her again.

Move in. See her everyday. Fight over cleaning the utensils in the morning and give her a feet massage when she returns from office in the evening. Gaze at the sky together. This feels good. This is it.

Something goes missing. Begin to fight more regularly, and notice yourself becoming increasingly passive aggressive. Hate that about yourself. Move out, give each other some “space.” You could use some space. You could use a lot of space. The space feels nice.

Fight after dinner at her place and you’re stuck with nowhere to go. She spews venom at you, you retaliate right back. Break up. Cry on her shoulder. Hug tight and sleep, its your last night together. Two and half years pass by in two and a half hours.

Get your hair cut or a new shirt, even though no one will notice. She would have noticed. Sigh. Wish you were still together. Wait, no, wish you were still together...but happy. Reminisce about falling in love and that part where you were so excited and you had all the sex all the time and you giggled.

Stop talking to her altogether, because it's too hard, and block her from Facebook, because you just don't want to know. Ask your friends to give you regular updates on her profile though. Spend a LOT of time with your friends - sober - and realize how important they are. Realize that your friendships are relationships, just not romantic, and they're important too.
Talk to people who have been through breakups and realize you're not alone. Because just like you thought you invented love, you also thought that you invented heartbreak. Understand that this awful, debilitating sentiment is not limited to only you. 
But everything still hurts. Realize that they all survived, and that heartbreak is a common experience, crushing though it may be. Know that most everyone else lived through it, and now you're a part of this big, beautiful thing, this universal feeling, this harrowing experience. You'll live through it, because everyone else did. You'll probably live through it again. Write a haiku about this feeling and post it on your Blog. Everyone likes it! They've been there, too.

Sleep with someone else, and realize that's something you can do. High five people and go through the day all chipper, 'cause you had sex last night, bitch! Wish it was sex with her, but know that can't happen. Sleep with other people! Or don't! Either way, realize your own autonomy, and
 relish it. Keep missing her, but feel something new: Relief.

Understand you probably felt it the second you broke things off, but couldn't admit it, because admitting it would mean you didn't love her. Don't worry, you did, you really did. But sometimes it's just not enough, and sometimes it just doesn't work. Stop blaming yourself, or stop blaming her. Both. The relief is so honest, and you hope she feels it too, whatever she's doing these days.

Start talking again, and get your friendship back. Realize how much you've missed her! Not her in your arms, or her in your bed, but her as a person. She knows you so well, and vice versa.

Wait, are you still in love with her?

Think about it for a second...nah. But you do love her, just not like that, which, by the way, still doesn't mean you want to meet her new boyfriend. Realize you might be happy, and not only that, but happy for her.

Date around a little, but don't get into anything serious. You're not looking for a relationship, 'cause you know who you're dating? Yourself. Because if you can't make it work with yourself, then how are you supposed to make it work with anyone?

(The post is an adapted by the writer to suit his own heartbreak from a similar post by Katrina on Autostraddle. All heartbreaks are the same yet all are so different!)

Sunday, March 11, 2012

The types of people in NSIT


I thought I’d do a profiling of the types of girls in NSIT but then, the sample space was too thin. So here’s to the breeds of people in NSIT.



The Bhand People
The name says it all. They’re found smoking up near Teen pathhar, khokha and Nesci parking if in college. They love Goa and they love to party. Most of their conversations revolve around weed, alcohol and everything above it. The ghissus frown at them and see them as bad role models for their children. They’ve done feats and have had experiences and have lived it!





The Society People
They’re the I-can-do-its. They run the college societies, clubs, car teams, fests, newspapers, NGOs, catering facilities, cleaning services.  They can grouch about how much happier they would’ve been had they been in DU and swear by their non-tech placements is the same breath. Each one of them considers themselves better than anyone else in the college.


The Ghissus
They study. They supply the rest of the class with notes during exams. They also turn mean-bitches and don’t supply the rest of the class with notes during exams. They rarely exit their rooms when in hostel. However, they do puke their intestines out when they get drunk in their friends’ job parties. And every time they puke, they tell themselves, Oh man! I’ve lived it in college!


The Musskle boys
They worship the gym and ask their neighbors for ghals’ phone numbers and think they’re one step closer to patio-ing them after every wanna-make-frandship phone call. They roam around in groups and tight fitting shirts murmuring ‘saali slut’ around college. They proudly wear scar marks on their face, and have atleast two battle stories to their credit. They have gangs and oh boy! Gangwars are serious business!




The pseudo intellectuals
They swear by the economic times in their rooms and brains in their skulls. Nothing less than president Obama and Ahmedinejad interests them on the mess table, bad food, eh what? They were found shouting during Moksha and Inno GDs earlier, now they like to dress up and MUN!





The Good for Nothings
Now I’m no judge but when after 4years of college you see a guy during the placements for the first time, it IS kind of freaky! They find corners to seclude themselves during conversations and classes. They’re probably the best listeners, mass bunk destroyers and good for nothings!





Disclaimer: Meri bhains ko lathi mat maarna, this list is just for a few giggles!

Friday, March 9, 2012

Jummey ke din kiya chumme ka wada! :* :*


There’re times when every man is in his petite woman mode.

Mujhe sachche pyaar ki talaash hai.

Gulia, dude, you don’t understand what true love is all about?

Engineers are more prone to this syndrome. (A sex ratio of 120:1 in DCE Mechanical, what a fuckin joke on humanity mylord?) As I was discussing with Amay’Zing the other day, what we desire the most is always what we don’t have. He has a job that’d pay him 10lacs a month ($_$) and I have a college where every day’s a party!

So this (really)nice chap was truly, madly and deeply in love with some girl, the kind of love that makes you do crazy things, makes your knees go weak and turns you into a disgusting derp! He was a man with a mission. Mission-my-belle. He takes the 2.5hours metro ride to rallies up if front of her, and says the three ‘golden words.’

What a fuckin joke? I cried. I was ganged up on, beaten to death, and brought to life just to be beaten more by nothing but words, sermons of love, life and purity. The motion of the house was concluded and passed, I’m a stone-soul, everyone shouted Aye! in MUNna style.

I recovered feeling proud and powerful. Its always better to be a stone-soul than be pathetic. I assumed I’m the only man alive with any real perspective on the topic of love. I decided not to share the real secret with anyone for god has entrusted me with the hidden code.  I went on the way I wanted to.

A year later, some other woman was the apple of (really) nice chap’s eye. They frolicked around Malviya Nagar Market as I looked away puking and gasping for breath at the same time. One fine day, he summoned me, I looked up like a puppy, he had twinkle of a victorious Gladiator in his eyes. He had won.

So how did it happen? I asked the customary question. He started off “I told her I love her, she told me so does she, I asked her if she’s a virgin, she said yes of course.”

I shouted WHAT as loud as I could. Suddenly the pictures of all those feminist women around me Shiva, Usha, random activist started haunting me. I told him, how it’s no big deal even if she’s not, and he had no business asking that alongwith the proposal.

I was given a sermon on importance of purity, chastity and Indian culture, and how romantic his and their first kiss was, next to the Hauz Khas Lake and the wind and the beer and all that jazz. Awwww!

What a loser, I thought on my way back home. I logged on to facebook and saw Tanuj’s Mwah-ing and oleey-ing with the love of his life splashed everywhere like Dark Pink Holi colors and a terrifying thought stuck me. What if I really did not have God’s penultimate secret?

My first kiss was after all in the scorching Delhi summer afternoon, in a Delhi auto rickshaw, and we were just making better when the troll interrupted and asked “Chirag Dilli se nikalun ya Khel Gaon se?” That was the end of it friends. Sobs!

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Daane Daane Pe

So it was final year, examinations, boring subject, excellent intoxication, excellent mood, frustration!! Everything was right. And then this poem came out!!





Jo kuchh tere naam likha hai, likha daane daane mein,
Woh to tujhe milega, chaahe rakha ho tehkhaane mein.

Tune ik fariyaad lagayi, usne hafta bhar maanga,
Kitne hafte aur lagenge, uss hafte ke aane mein?

Ek diye ki zidd hai aandhi mein bhi jalte rehne ki,
Hamdardi ho toh, hissedaari karo bachane mein.

Aansu aaye dekh toot-ta chhappar, deewaron dar ko,
Aakhir ghar tha barso lag jate hain ussey banane mein.

Kuchh to socho roz wahin kyo jaakar marna hota hai,
Shaam ki kuchh to saazish hogi, suraj tumhe dubaane mein.

Jaakar toofano se kehdo, jitna chaahe tez chalein,
Kashti ko abhyaas ho gaya lehron se lad jaane mein.

Koun muhabbat ke chakkar mein pade, buri shai hai yaaron,
Mere dost pade the, maare gaye bade paimane mein!