C'est La Vie....

“Nice car!”, Jennifer exclaimed. They were on their way to the airport and her first comment made Michael turn and look at her with a smile. All the while he was wondering as to whether he should break the ice, but he knew that a 15 minute journey wasn’t enough. His heart though was conveying other plans to his mind.

He suddenly realized that he hadn’t spoken a word since she’d got into his car and knew that she’d find it weird. She would soon start asking questions. He didn’t want that.

“Jennifer, mail me once you reach there, okay.”, he couldn’t believe that he had a tongue after all.
“I will Michael – and, you too,…..”, she said. She glanced at him and then looked out of the window.

Michael could feel a lump in his throat. “Oh God!”, he thought, “Why can’t you do something?? 5 more minutes and she’s gone from my world, my life…..”

The sudden screeching of tyres startled him. He saw that a limo ahead of his car had applied brakes and reacted instantly.

The traffic had suddenly come to a grinding halt. There was some commotion up front and he could sense the confusion sitting in his car. Other car and vehicle drivers were getting out of their automobiles. Horns blared as some people started getting impatient.

“What has happened Michael?”, Jennifer was concerned.
“I dunno.”, Michael said as he opened his seat belt and started to open the car door. “Jennifer just wait in the car, will you?”

He proceeded and paced towards a group of men who looked like truck drivers. He heard some sirens as cop vehicles rushed past them in another lane.

“Excuse me guys, can I know what is this confusion all about….?”, he asked one of them. An old man was quick to answer.

“Hey Junior, can’t go up – it looks like a truck broke its axle, reeled diagonally and now the 30 meter monster is lying across 3 lanes and it’ll take at least an hour to tow the thing away….so, we’re stuck here for worse.”

“Jesus Christ!!!”, Michael couldn’t believe it.
“…That’s a nice day, eh boy?”, the man laughed as he turned back to the gang.

Jennifer listened expressionless as Michael explained the whole situation to her. Michael could feel a candle of hope being lighted in his heart as he recounted that her getting to the airport in all this mess was almost practically impossible.

“I can’t reroute Jenny – it’s not possible. See you’ve got to understand this okay – the subway is 20 kilometers from the bypass to the airport – even if we make it through the traffic, it’s gonna take more than 15 minutes….Sorry Jenny….I’m really sorry but I can’t do anything about it…so…”

“We are not going to make it!!”, Jennifer interrupted him. She was still blank as ever.

“We are not going to make it….even if we take a hike. All right….I can understand…All right then….”, Jennifer said assertively as she reached out for her cell phone.

She proceeded to dial a number as Michael watched with bated breath.

“Hello….yeah…could you please cancel the ticket for Jennifer Mason Biggs scheduled….yeah…and reserve a ticket for tomorrow, same time…yeah…yeah…thank you.”

Jennifer looked at Michael standing absolutely motionless.

“What…..?”, she asked him.

Michael answered with a smile.

Mr. Tender looked on without an element of surprise, the ever serious face slowly widening into a smile.

"Dad I'm in love with Jennifer!", Michael repeated. His voice was getting loud and Mr. Tender could grasp the graveness of the situation. Mr. Tender knew Jennifer.

"Jennifer Mason Biggs" he recollected in his mind, daughter of the famous lawyer David Mason Biggs. One of Michael's many friends, she was a girl whom Michael had befriended recently.

"Michael, I think it is certainly a pleasant thi....", Mr. Tender was interrupted by his son.

"But Dad, she doesn't know about this and she is leaving for Australia! I'm driving her to the airport in two hours......"

"Then stop her!", Mr. Tender quipped.

"No.....no!!". A gap of silence was inserted instantly.

"She doesn't love you Michael? Is that it?", Mr. Tender's calm voice highlighted affection and concern.

"She does.....maybe not.....but she hasn't said anything.", Michael appeared confused.

"Ask her, son!!.....Buy her a gift.....make her speak.....do..."

"But Dad", Michael was nervous, "I cannot.....just like that.....there's no direct question for me Dad.....I don't know where it'll land.....she's my friend and maybe she doesn't love me. I don't want to embarrass her and spoil the friendship that we have now. I cannot endure her accusations Dad - she is way too dear to me.....you know....."

Mr. Tender pulled a chair next to his son and seated himself.
"Michael, calm down my son. You've got looks son.....you're a grown up responsible guy. You've got the looks and the money. You are the son of Mr. William Tender, the third richest man in the city. You could buy a Lamborghini Diablo when she can just dream about it. You could buy the Fourth Estate bungalow and ten others at Nellington Road worth two million when she cannot even think about it. Benefaction, endowment, gifts son.....GIFTS.....you could get her then, don't you think? Tell me how much you'd need Michael, tell me son."

"Dad! Please....please for God's sake. I came for emotional support not for monetary benefits or any such idea of yours.....like I'm trying to allure a business partner like you'd do with all those Lamborghinis and estates and what not."
"Money cannot buy everything Dad.....not everything!! It cannot buy people's feelings.....it cannot buy my love for you and your love for me.....I hope you understand one day that money is not what you think is!! - Anyway, THANKS A LOT for your help!!", saying this Michael stomped out of the office room.

Mr. Tender was calm and his face didn't show any sign of displeasure. He said, "I don't know when you'll understand Michael." Pressing "one" on his intercom he said, "Truman, you can come in now.....Thank you."

Michael glanced at his watch nervously every few minutes. "3.14 p.m." - the watch read now. He didn't, he certainly didn't want to believe it - he was driving Jennifer to the airport when he wished with all his heart, that she'd stay; to talk to her, tell her once that he couldn't live without her, to tell her how the days they'd spent together at 'Camp Bale' changed his viewpoint about their relationship or friendship rather, which later evolved into a greater fondness for her and now he wanted to tell her how much he was in love with her.

"Damn it!!", he muttered.
"My first love story will remain an unfinished one.", he told himself.

Michael burst into his father's office. He slumped into the nearest chair he could find. Mr. Tender, the third richest man in the city, the chairman and director of Mascon International, the renowned financial brokerage firm, looked up from his simmering cup of hot coffee. A round of silence followed as an apparently depressed Michael, with his hands over his head, stared at the table disgustedly. Mr. Tender made the first move. Placing the cup on the table, he was about to get up when an over-excited Mr. Truman - his trustworthy Personal Secretary - entered the cabin.

"Mr. Tender, that project on the.....", he stopped abruptly on seeing Michael. "Hey Mike. How are you doing? How are the guitar classes proceeding? And hey! How's your new girlfriend Jennifer??"

Michael looked up with a cold stare.

"Truman, could you please give us a moment....", Mr. Tender had spoken.

As Truman apologised and left the room, Mr. Tender moved next to Michael. He looked at his son affectionately. He put a hand on his head and caressed it gently. Michael still didn't respond, didn't look up.

It was difficult and Mr. Tender knew it. He'd always loved his son. Ever since Mary left him, he had only two favourite pursuits - one, take care of his company and two, look after his son. He'd worked hard on the latter knowing very well that he was trying to handle Mary's responsibility.

He brought up his child in the lap of luxury but took note never to indulge him in anything. Even at the age of 21, he always made Truman tailgate his son and his circle of friends. He always acquainted himself with his son's likes and his friends'. He let his son handle his own money, asking him to account for the expenses, bestowing him freedom, such that, Michael never under or over estimated it. In fact, Michael had grown up to be a fine and responsible young lad. But minute differences did exist between father and son. Mr. Tender always used to say to Truman, "You know Truman, Mary never liked my ambitious attitude - neither does my son!"

Many a time Michael insisted on his father getting married again and dismantling his portfolio as a chairman, but neither had worked. Since the age of 32, Mr. Tender had led this solitary life that stretched between company and son, company and son, company..... - He believed in making wealth and expanding his business empire. He considered money-making an urge to succeed in life and attached a lot of weight to the power that money could buy him in the modern day world. To all and sundry he was an industrious, skillful and successful businessman for whom time had led his monetary prowess to a point of no return.

Michael adjusted in his seat and with an uneasy look on his face, he muttered loud enough for his father to hear, "Dad, I'm in love....."

Dear Mr. Bin Laden

Hi. My name is Tara. I'm 8 years old. I live in India. I'm writing this letter to you because I read about you in the newspaper.The newspaper used many big words. I asked my papa about it. My papa works in a big office. He said that you made wars and killed people. I asked him why ? Papa smiled and said I won't understand. I like it when my papa smiles.

I wanted to ask you why ? But I think you'll also not tell me why. I'm a very small short girl. Papa calls me his little bumblebee. He says all papas have special names for their little girls. What is your daughter's special name ?

I don't like it when people hit each other. When Mehul hit Rohit in school, blood came out. Then Mehul and Rohit were crying, even though they are boys. Madhu ma'am was very angry. Then she told us not to hit anybody. She says it is wrong. Did your class teacher forget to tell you ?

When I told papa about it, he looked sad. He said life was too precious to waste. Then he started talking about Mumma. I don't remember Mumma very much. She died when I was a baby. Madhu ma'am says you feel bad when someone you love dies. I saw a movie where a lady was crying while a man was dying. Sometimes I feel sad about Mumma. I wish she was still here. But papa and granny say they are enough for me. But I still love my Mumma. I just wish she could come to PTA meeting like Sonia's mother.

I saw people crying and shouting on T.V. Papa said it was because of you. You shouldn't make people cry. I don't like to cry, even if papa gives me an ice-cream afterwards. Why do you kill people ? Does it help your friends ? I'm sure there are people who love those people who died, and I'm sure they feel very bad. I know papa feels very bad when we talk about Mumma. I don't want people to be sad like him. That is not how you should live life.

I read in my book that God created all men and women to be happy. He/She is a big man/woman who lives in the sky and watches everything. That is why you should not do wrong things, because God will punish you. Are you God and my God different ? Papa says that you pray differently. But that does not mean that the big man/woman in the sky looks different too ? Granny gets very angry when I ask her about this.

I have decided that in my life I will never do anything wrong. That you can never be punished. Isn't that clever of me ? Papa says it is. I think it would be good for you too.

It is raining outside today, after a long time. Everybody was really happy, because it was very hot. I was also very happy, like when I got what I want, after a long time. It's a very nice feeling. Do you know that feeling ? I don't mind the thunder or lightening also !

I saw two planes in the TV. When they were flying, they made a sound like the thunder outside. Then there was a flash. And then there was a lot of smoke and the houses were gone. The news lady says that this was happening in Afghanistan because of Mr. Bush and you. She said that the people in Afghanistan wanted peace a lot. Can you and Mr. Bush please give it to them ?

I'm sure it would make them very happy. I know that it makes you also happy when you give people something that they really want. Don't you feel sad that people are dying ?

Don't you want to be happy ?

At night, when papa and I were praying, I said your name. Papa asked me why ? I said it was because I thought you needed it. Papa said yes, praying for people gives them strength. So we prayed for you. Then I asked, why didn't anybody pray for Mumma ? Maybe she wouldn't come back, and we should pray that other people shouldn't die like that.

So, I prayed that other children's papa and Mumma shouldn't go away. Children really need their Papas and Mummas.But maybe God won't listen to me. He/She took my Mumma away, didn't He/She ? So I'm writing this letter to you. If you stop making wars, dropping bombs and killing people, kids like me will have both their papa and Mumma. It's much better than one Papa.

So, I want you to stop war, and give peace to the people. You will feel good then, because you will make people happy. you should also do good things in life, because then God will not punish you.

With love
Tara

Disgusted, no, enraged is the word.

Something really really unfortunate happened today.
While on her way to college on an Activa, one of my college friends was followed and then forced to stop by a group of 3-4 guys. These hooligans then physically harassed her. On being met with protests on her side, they went on to actually beat her. They kicked, punched and whacked her with a helmet, with the intention of somehow making her unconscious so that she could be taken advantage of. Yes, that is the level of desperation that these bastards possess. They might as well be necrophiliacs.
She has not pressed any charges so far and I - someone who has always been of the opinion that if no one else, at least the educated urban women should stand up for themselves - am forced to think about why is it that these women are so afraid to press charges ? Perhaps it has got something to do with the dismal conviction record, even in cases of rape, which only tells us that something is very, very wrong with the Indian Judicial System. It's little wonder then that they are told be a "Good Bhartiya Naari" and shut up. While the scum who molest them roam around scot free.

P.S. To all the girls reading this - Please do not think that this is something that can only happen to others and not you. My friend thought the same way. Do learn some kind of martial arts or the other to combat these sex - deprived maniacs and make it a point to always keep a pepper spray with yourself.

I hate it when the seasons change.

I hate it when my size changes from a smaller one to a bigger one.

Hell ! I hate it when my mom changes the T.V. channel.

I hate it when the taste of my favourite dish at my most trusted restaurant changes.

I hate it when the movie adaptations of books change the storyline.

Tell you what ? I hate to change. ( Yeah I'm a lazy AND an unhygienic person. )

I hate it when Sunday changes into Monday.

Most of all, I hate it when people change.

Poor Me : "Good afternoon, ma'am."

CCMA ( Chatur Chalaak Moti Aunty) ( with a smirk on her face ) : "Have a seat. So, what do you remember of our presentation in your college ?"

Poor Me (to myself) : "Man I'm so doomed right now!"

(to CCMA) : "Fluor Daniel is basically an engineering, maintenance, procurement and" [(construction) - which I didn't say, rather this is what i blurted out)] - "...there is one more thing which I don't remember- services provider."

[ Helllooooo !!! What was I thinking ?? ( Oops, don't really wanna answer that one) What was the need to say that ?? Anyway....]

It was established in 1912...blah blah blah.....started off as a construction company ( Nope, I still didn't remember that this was what I had missed out)....Fortune 500....

CCMA : What exactly do you understand by a Fortune 500 company ?

Poor Me (to myself) : "Damn I gotta upgrade my GK soon!"

(to CCMA) : Managed to say something about Time Inc's Fortune magazine taking out a list of the top 500 U.S. companies according to the profit that they make. ( Yay !! My blog is turning informative!!)

CCMA : What about the job profile ?

Poor Me : After answering almost correctly, I messed this up in the end by saying that Fluor, India manages the accounts of countries like Japan, thinking, thinking, blank, Japan, still thinking, still blank, Japan......Philippines !!

The expression on CCMA's face makes me realise my folly and I realise that I've mixed up Wipro with this company's PPT. So having no option left, I admit the truth to them.

CCMA (smirk on face intact) : "And what do you recall of the compensation ?"

Poor Me : Of course I answered this flawlessly. What do you think of me ??

CCMA : "Okay Isha, so tell me something about yourself."



And from this point on, the interview was more or less a piece of cake because this happens to be one of my favourite topics - myself !

And guess what ? However intimidating the interview room might be, it is one place which does not mind boasting. ;)



P.S. Yes, surprising as it may sound, I did manage to clinch the job. But ended up pursuing MBA, which btw is one step further than working as here, I actually PAY to get tortured.

Well, what can I say - C'est la vie.

Now don't think me to be insane after reading this but I was really nervous - not because I was scared or anything but because of the fact that everyone around me seemed to be nervous save me. And somehow this ended up making me nervous !!
Anyway, there were two HR people taking the interview. One was a middle aged lady who liked the typical chatur chalaak moti aunty of the neighbourhood and again a middle aged guy who looked kind of sweet though in my opinion he was merely serving as a showpiece.
So these people seemed to be interviewing each candidate for an eternity. After the candidates had appeared for the first level of interview, they were taken to another room so as to prevent us from asking them anything. (Yes, apparently they were oblivious to the concept of cellphones.)
Luckily I had three of my besties for company who made the interminable wait bearable. But after two of us had gone for the interview, the remaining two - which included me and Champa (yeah, that's the latest nick name that she has been bestowed with :D) - started talking about - make a wild guess....DOPING !!! I mean of all things - DOPE ??!! Sometimes I surprise even myself. And it wasn't until my name was called for the interview that we were sucked out of this immensely interesting topic.
So with my mind trying to block out any thoughts about dope, I entered the interview room and this is what ensued.
( to be continued)

Being a final year student (yes, I had written this almost a year back. But it's being put up now as I'm kind of at a similar stage again.) I too had to go through the gruelling process of giving interviews after interviews in the hope of landing that elusive "dream job".

And today was my first real corporate interview so to say. Fluor Daniel, a company which provides engineering, maintenance, construction and procurement services had shortlisted 16 students during their campus recruitment process, who were to appear for the final interview at their office in Gurgaon.

The day couldn't have started on a better note. I got up super late and of course didn't make it in time to the college. And to top that, our cab driver was someone whom Michael Schumacher would have gladly buried alive. I mean, the guy wouldn't drive above 20 km/hour. And thus we ended up reaching half an hour late at their office, courtesy our aforementioned driver, the new Gurgaon expressway (yes it was new THEN), and of course me!

Once there all of us were completely in awe of the building. But our happiness was shortlived, for soon began what is known as the third degree.

(to be continued)

She danced when she was happy, she danced in anger, she danced when sad. Overjoyed on seeing the ghungroos her father had got, she hugged him - unaware that the love of her life was about to be snatched away as tonight she would dance, not because she wanted to, but because others wanted her to.

____________________________________________________

The above piece is my first attempt at what is known as 55 fiction. 55 fiction is a form of microfiction limited to a maximum of well, 55 words. I had seen this on my friend Arnab's blog - Technicolor Collage and never even in my wildest dreams had I thought that I'll be able to accomplish a task which requires such extreme brevity. Well what can I say, sometimes I tend to surprise even myself. :)

I'm a bitch; I'm a friend.

I'm a child; I'm a mother.

I'm a saint; I'm a sinner.

I'm a song; I'm a thorn.

I'm a wall; I'm a flower.

I'm a dreamer; I'm a cynic.

I'm all this and more.

I am a woman.

You'll be there to hold me when I'm about to fall, won't you ?
You'll put up with me even if, at times, I act like a wall, won't you ?
You'll be there to correct me when I'm wrong, won't you ?
You'll make life seem like a beautiful song, won't you ?
You'll comfort me when I'm sad, won't you ?
You'll support me even when others think I'm mad, won't you ?
You'll give me a shoulder to cry on, won't you ?
You'll be there for me when everyone's long gone, won't you ?
And one fine day,
You too willl forget me and move on, won't you ?

Friends. Secrets. Omission. Promises. Lies. Trade-offs. Pinki swears. Betrayal. Complications. Truth. Future. Headaches. Trust. The lack of it. Expectations. Saridon. Sleepless nights. Tugging conscience. Awkward silences. Manipulation. Incessant thinking.

Yes, one night can change many people's lives.
Unfortunately, it did.

P.S. Happy New Year. :l

SHE REMEMBERS

His warm hands enveloping her cold ones.
The firm grip.
The perfume on his neck.
The broad shoulders,
The strong back.
The soft hair on his hands.
His disarming deep gaze.
The way his hands tucked her hair behind her ear.
And gently caressed her tender lips.
When he tried to manage both the steering wheel and the gears with just one hand
As the other rested on her thigh interlocked with hers.

SHE REMEMBERS

That fateful day.
The confrontation.
The incessant rain of tears.
His indifference.
Her anger.
The sinking feeling.
Her disappointment in him.
In herself.
Regretting knowing him.

All this, as she tries to UN-REMEMBER it all.

Kabhi-kabhi shyam hone par suryoday hota hai,
Kabhi-kabhi suraj ki pehli kiran se fiza mein andhera chaa jata hai.

Kabhi-kabhi aasuon mein khushiyan jhalakti hain,
Kabhi-kabhi ek badi si muskurahat ke peeche dher sa gum chupa hota hai.

Kabhi-kabhi mithas mein namak ghula hota hai,
Kabhi-kabhi sagar ka paani bhi meetha lagta hai.

Kabhi-kabhi duriyan nazdeek le aati hain,
Kabhi-kabhi nazdeek rehte hue duriyan bad jaati hain.

Kabhi-kabhi lau baati ko jala kar khud ko mita deti hai,
Kabhi-kabhi shama parwane ko bhi sirf garmahat hi deti hai.

Kabhi-kabhi sab kuch keh kar bhi kuch ankaha reh jaata hai,
Kabhi-kabhi khamosh aankhein sab kuch bayan kar deti hain.

Kabhi-kabhi poori duniya mein hum hi hum ho jaate hain,
Aur kabhi-kabhi hum bhi hum nahi reh paate hain.

kabhi kabhi, ek nagma hi ek ghazal ban jaata hai,

kabhi kabhi, ek khayaal hi ek zindagi ban jaata hai.

(Just for the record, this was written on 8th may, but me being the lazy bum that I’m, it’s being posted today:))

Since as long as I can remember, the one sport that I’ve followed throughout my life is cricket. Yeah, basketball and soccer have their own importance but nothing beats cricket. Like every true Indian, I too consider it my religion. And today I achieved nirvana according to my religion, because for the first time in my 20 orbits around the sun, I watched a match – LIVE!!

Match – Delhi Daredevils vs. Chennai Super Kings
Venue – Feroze Shah Kotla Stadium, Delhi
Time – 2:30 p.m.

The scorching heat did not seem to be a deterrent for the hundreds of people queuing outside the stadium. The match itself was by far the closest encounter IPL had seen so far. Chasing an imposing 188 for victory, a beefed up Chennai batting order got it down to 15 off the last over. With Gony on strike, Sehwag, in a gamble gone horribly wrong handed the ball to Shoaib Malik. Soon it was scores level, down to the last ball. The audience went numb as Sehwag had a long chat with Malik. With chants of “Malik, Malik” in the background, he bowled to Badri who hit hard and Shikhar Dhawan, at deep mid-wicket, made a valiant attempt but it was all over. Chennai had broken their losing streak, winning by 4 wickets. Had Dhawan held on to what would have been a brilliant last ball catch, the match would have seen the first bowl-out of the league.

Gambhir’s blistering 80 off 49 balls (which went in vain) got him back the orange cap for the tournament’s highest run-scorer from Sehwag.

The turning point of the game was when Albie Morkel hit 3 consecutive sixes off an over by Sehwag and took a total of 25 runs off it. That one over changed the complexion of the game.

The disappointed crowd did not even stay for the presentation. And as if in protest of the outcome of the match, the weather brewed up a strong dust storm as soon as the game ended. Well, as they say, you win some, you lose some.

The attendance requirement is akin to the sword of Damocles hanging over our heads. For a batch of future managers, such a trivial rule is demeaning, not just to us, but to the very faculty that endorses it.
First hand evidence of this fact is that this was written while I was in one of my classes. : It was a subject that I can very well handle on my own. Given a few printed hand-outs and a couple of reference books, all I need are a few hours to clear a few concepts. Then why on earth was I sitting there twiddling my thumbs? So much for time management!
Frankly speaking, I’m not an academic genius. In fact I’m in deep trouble in a few subjects. I’ve done the internal papers badly and thanks to Symphony (the college fest); I have no idea of what’s happening in class. And outside the rigorous B.Com schedule there’s the DramSoc, CAT coaching classes, Placement Cell…..At this rate, I either need 48 hours a day or I drop down dead.
What really gets to me is that I’d really like to start studying and not make a grand show of seriousness by attending classes, wake up late for a couple of days, get some notes together, READ them and actually LEARN something. Think that’s far better than writing notes in class as dictated from a 20 year old register whose pages have ages but whose contents remain unchanged. That’s not about learning, it’s a prize-winning ad for MODI-XEROX.
Let’s face the facts. The issue isn’t new; it’s an age-old argument. The attendance requirement has been reduced to a whip in the hands of the faculty; its sole purpose to keep ‘wayward’ students in line. Let’s take a quick look at BITS-Pilani, where students plan their own schedule after seeing that of the faculty. No one accuses a BITSian of being irresponsible and undisciplined. Then why is this honor bestowed upon us? Which civilized educational institution detains its students on the basis of the number of hours spent staring at a blackboard! If this is the basis for professional education, then we’re all destined to be pencil pushers, adept at preaching but never practicing ourselves.
Back to Ground Zero. What are we here for? Becoming good managers I suppose. Logically speaking that should involve learning a subject from the basics, developing a hands on approach to problems and being able to solve problems in the best possible way. Sounds pretty impressive, doesn’t it? But is that what we are actually heading towards? Hours spent staring at teachers’ faces, furtive glances at the watch, SMSing all and sundry, doing CAT papers or reading the latest bestseller aren’t going to get us there. Wonder what all this has to do with the attendance requirement? Simple. People will study when they WANT to study. Forcing undergraduate students to attend classes and study exactly what is being taught just doesn’t work. Just look at the number of academic success stories who’ve topped with the aid of just the photocopying machine. In any case, 50 students sitting together and poring over the same material day in and day out won’t produce hot shot managers. We’ll just end up as a batch of graduates collectively pouting out what we have learnt, sorry…studied.
Not that this is a reflection on our faculty. Hats off to our teachers who teach with so many students oblivious to what’s happening in the class. It’s the system that’s faulty. And this is what prevents our faculty from reaching the apex of their teaching potential. At this level, the role of our faculty should be restricted to providing guidance, entrusting the bulk of the learning process to the students. For, any faculty is much too valuable to be wasted on such a retrograde teaching process involving a compulsory physical presence in class. It’s time to accept the reality of our current situation and move on with the times.

Think about this :
We are living in an India that has a GDP growth of over 8%, a Forex reserve surplus of well over $250 billion and which boasts of having one of the highest English speaking populations in the world. We are an IT powerhouse, a country that causes outsourcing blues in the US Senate and an economy that gives old hands China a run for their money.
But behind this entire hullabaloo, do we miss the true picture? Let us analyse.
India in reality is just a developing economy in a rudimentary stage. The economic disparity among the masses is huge and there are factors that ensure that it remains this way. Illiteracy and corruption are rampant. Every move undertaken here is politically motivated and the interests of the nation take a back seat whenever self interest is concerned.
The recent issue that has brought this unpleasant fact to the forefront yet again is the issue of caste-based reservations. As if 7.5% reservations for the STs and 15% for the SCs was not enough (do not ask me how the govt. actually defines these categories), the govt. has created another category called the OBCs and has sought to provide an additional 27% reservation for them in premier govt. institutes in the country including the esteemed IITs and IIMs. That makes the total reservations in these institutes a whooping 49.5%. Let us see what implications this move has for different sections of society.
Understandably, no political party has stood up against this move of the govt.because that would endanger its vote-bank and would also make it seem anti-poor. But the question to be asked is how many of these politicians actually think this move would benefit the so called unprivileged classes of the society (whether socially, economically or otherwise is anyone's guess)? This politically motivated move would, in my opinion, further demean the long oppressed 'lower classes'. Then who stands to gain from it? No one except the politicians for whom such acts of despair every now and then are their only modus-operandi in this age of competition. And do not forget the unscrupulous elements in society for whom a back-door entry to an esteemed institution is just a fake caste-certificate away. As Abraham Lincoln once said, "You cannot enrich the poor by impoverishing the rich." Similarly, does the govt. not realise they cannot develop the lower sections by putting the better sections at a disadvantage?
The following words or phrases fromt he Preamble to the Constitution stand out as very relevant to our discussion - EQUALITY OF STATUS AND OPPURTUNITY. Meaning that the State cannot discriminate between its citizens on the ground of caste, creed, language, sex or origin in providing oppurtunities. How well does the reservation policy agree with the Preamble to the Indian Constitution? For B.R.Ambedkar, the Father of the Indian Constitution, had himself siad that the reservations at the time of independence were the need of a dormant society, one that needed to give someextra 'concessions' to a long oppressed 'lower socety'.to rise, but that reservations should be done away with after a period of a few years because otherwise it would pose a hindrance to the development of the nation. These views of his were recently echoed in Parliament by his grandson Prakash Ambedkar who actually felt that the use of the word 'caste' should be banned from the country for its betterment. But is the govt. listening?
The IITs and IIMs are considered hallmarks of excellence worldwide. Just imagine what would happen to their reputation if half their campuses were inherited by not-so-competent people. not-so-competent because in the past most people admitted to the IITs and IIMs under some reserved category have been seen to be below par as far as academic performance is concerned. Such people are also almost routinely neglected by the pvt. sector companies taht come to these campuses for recruiyment. As a matter of fact, these reservations only set out to compromise the regime of intellectual meritocracy that these esteemed institutes have developed over a period of time.For much of India's success story in the global economy today can be attributed to these institutions. And a near 50% reservation in these institutions would spell a slowdown in the nascent Indian economy, which in the long run would hurt the very people it is supposed to protect. Another point to be considered here is what would happen to those meritorious students who miss these institutions narrowly. Would they not blame it on the quota sysytem that the govt. is following and would this not add to the unrest and frustration in the country? In short would it not go against the principles of a just society?
If the stste of affairs continue the way they are, with reservations being extended to almost every sector, we might soon have a caste-based reservation in the Indian Cricket team. Can you imagine that? If the govt. is so adamant on including the OBCs in the reservation circle, why do they not start with the Parliament, which at present does not have any reservation for the OBCs? But rather than playing these political gimmicks, can we not concentrate on improving the education facilities for the deprived few at the grassroots level and try to integrate them with the mainstream of society instead of giving them reservation where it would not matter to them?
As auch the hype surrounding the economic boom in India can be best described as "Much Ado About Nothing". This is because of the simple reason that the issues that matter are far more despairing than the glorious ones taht hog the limelight. And even more despairing is the fact that there is little that the common man has done or can do to improve the sorry stste of affairs that exists currently. So, at the end of it all, i'm still tempted to ask, "Is India really shining ?"