The Real Treasure

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In school, we tend to take friends for granted. We never realise how difficult it is to make friends with complete strangers – after all, we end up spending so much time with each other. It was for the first time in Ruparel (my junior college) that I suddenly felt how difficult it is to interact with people I don’t recognise.

I was the only one from my school to join Ruparel. This made me a bit apprehensive, but I didn’t pay much attention. Really speaking, I was bored of school life and looking forward to college. Soon, it was time for the first lecture and orientation by the principal. I remember this as if it were yesterday.

I was seated on the second bench on the left side. Harsh gave me company from Andheri station; I had met him in Ruparel earlier that month, at the time of admissions. He promptly sat next to me. We talked little, but didn’t bore each other. I thought he would know more people than I do and so, wouldn’t need my company. Of course, his ‘choke slam’ and ‘aye Haaaarsh, ye building chche, thaaro playground nathi!’ keeps us entertained.

Kunal and Sohail knew each other. They were in the same school. Kunal entered the class before Sohail and asked us if anyone else was occupying the seats beside us. On an average, each bench of Ruparel accommodates around 6-7 average healthy Indians. We had no problems with Kunal sitting next to us. Sohail sat elsewhere, on the right side, third bench I think (you can’t miss out his aristocracy, can you?). He had come later. They exchanged a ‘hello’; this sort of depressed me – am I the only loner out here?

Kunal seemed very talkative and came up with a new topic of discussion every now and then. In fact, he kept Harsh and me very busy with his controversial topics such as ‘ICSE is better than SSC’, ‘Biology sucks’, etc. Discussions turned into heated arguments. We screamed at the top of our voices to get our point across when all of a sudden a smart aleck excused himself.

“Hi, I’m Mohit!”

We didn’t ask him his name. We did not even reply to his gesture. His thick black jacket, gold necklace (!), broad wrist band and a French beard was rather scary (they called him Bappi Lahiri in school, I’m told).

“Can I sit here?”

Most welcome, there was enough place for three more. He was a part of the discussion too, but soon it was time to disperse.

Next day, Kunal, Harsh, Mohit and me, we were on the same bench. Sohail was feeling left out, he joined in. Chetan dropped in too, there was lot of place and a thin guy like him could easily fit. We had more discussions, more random talk. Chetan contributed his viewpoints rather calmly. His biking adventures and two-wheeled knowledge was a good topic of contention.

Gaurav was a rather late entry. Poplai, as we call him, was introduced to us by Chetan. He seemed a very happy-go-lucky guy and has a smile as broad as his stomach (sorry Popu, I gotta admit). It didn’t take long before we officially inducted him in our ‘second bench committee’. We loved his jolly nature and his narration of Bacardi/Kingfisher adventures.

Amit was always a last bencher and it was not before 12^th that we inducted him too. He’s always been a latecomer. Can you beat this, he has just joined Orkut! Soon we were eight of us – Harsh, Kunal, Chetan, Mohit, Gaurav, Amit, Sohail and me. I don’t know why, but Mohit prefers to call us ‘Shooting Stars’.

Then there were others too – Rohit, Sachi, Soumyadri, Neville, Vishaal, Nirali, Rahul, Rashmi, Vini, phew! The list is endless.

It’s been more than 5 years now; the eight of us have always been together (...ahem, without doubt, we’re all straight). We’ve shared each and every problem, crushes, journals, answer papers etc. We laughed on the same jokes, on the same people (low waist jeanswala, body builder), on the same teachers (remember Gawde? Shimpi?) and laughed aloud. We guided each other – in our careers, homework, love life (?), etc. We’ve had innumerable lunches together. None of us will ever forget – Canepy, Xeroxwala, ‘aye Gujarati!’, Toke Ma’am, Tapan and his ‘slapstick’ adventure, Mahajan’s lecture (aunty log, aunty log!), etc.

Today, as some of us are leaving this country for further studies, memories are refreshed. Over these years, Ruparel has given me the best of friends. The aim of this passage is simple – to relive those memories and remind its readers of similar experiences.

Surprising how life comes up with so many treats. Maybe some of you can dedicate a comment to such a similar friend(s). I’m sorry I’m late – Friendship day was nearly a week ago.

Quizzes and more…

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I know quite a few people who have the knack of solving questions correctly in academic quizzes and competitions. Personally, I have never done too well in such quizzes at an individual level; probably because it requires much more than just academic knowledge.

Two weeks ago, our paediatrics department had organised elimination rounds for selecting a team that would represent our college at the Indian Academy of Paediatrics (IAP) Students’ Quiz. The team consists of two members and accordingly, the department wanted the best of the lot to go to the IAP. Elimination rounds were organised in such a way that they judged the students’ individual capability. As expected, I didn’t fair too well.

But this quiz was a learning lesson, thanks to Niranjan. Now, the format of this quiz included negative marking for wrong answers. There were 20 questions, 2 points for a correct answer and minus 1 for a wrong response. I answered very few, selected questions fearing that I’ll miss out on a good score because of the concept of negative marking. This strategy of mine was a failure; had I attempted a few more questions, I would have got a much better score. I was reasonably sure about their answers; I didn’t want to take any chances and therefore, ended up being overcautious.

A talk with Niranjan was very informative (he topped the quiz, by the way). According to him, unless you have no clue about the answer, you should try and solve the question. By not answering a question, you miss out on an opportunity to score. Risk versus benefit ratio here is definitely very low.

Last week, surgery department conducted a quiz, as an elimination before the State-level round. This State-level quiz requires a team of three students. The surgery department made a clever decision – they decided to test students as a team and gave us the choice to form our own team. This was a very good move because eventually, the students have to perform together as a unit. Students who excel as individuals may not necessarily excel as a team. Plus, they should be able to get well along with each other.

Teams were formed – one included Debanjan, Niranjan and me. We had participated together in the radiology quiz too, last year – but didn’t fare too well. It wasn’t a team event anyway. However, this year, surgery was much better. I thoroughly enjoyed participating in the quiz. Both, Debanjan and Niranjan have a very unique way of answering questions – quite different from my conventional methodology. But the most important part was that we jelled together very well. We logically sought answers for each question and agreed to the fact that we would have made at least 2-3 avoidable mistakes had we solved the paper individually.

The results will be out soon and we hope that the department keeps up its promise of selecting a team rather than individuals. If it does the later, we have mutually decided to boycott the State-level round in case only one/two amongst the three of us gets selected. Selecting best individuals would again be self-defeating; it’s always the case with other events such as Bombay Medical Congress, etc. Obviously, we are looking forward to participating in the next round together.

Some people believe that working alone gives them a greater share of the booty, little realising that a team can reap tonnes of reward, wherever eligible/possible. In this place where I have spent 4 years of my life, I have observed that most ‘teams’ perform very inefficiently, be it Aavishkaar (annual college fest), Gymkhana, various Symposia, sports, et al.

Thankfully, I had a very good team as the Chief Editor of Gosumag 2007.

The Road Ahead

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Yesterday, I had a very interesting conversation; this kind of a powwow is commonplace amongst students who are in their final year of a basic graduate degree. The discussion begins with a person asking another his/her future plans, career goals etc. Being undecided myself, I usually do not have much to answer. I test-fired the same question to a friend and got a rather nonchalant reply, “depends.”

Depends! On what? In a rather serious tone, he said, “I’ll decide about my career after the general elections next November.” Elections? How can one’s career depend on elections?

“If Mayawati becomes the Honourable Prime Minister of India, I am leaving this country for good!” he promptly replied.

This brings us to an interesting aspect of career decision-making. Usually, it is not very difficult to decide upon a speciality postgraduate course after a basic university degree, if you are well-informed and aware. Obviously, some homework needs to be done in order to find out your own aptitude and what part of the profession you like. (Here, let us not get confused and lose direction talking about merit and competition.)

Now is the difficult part. Often there are professions that do not have a good scope and a remunerative future in one’s own country/state. This is often looked upon as a hindrance and it drives people away from taking up something they probably would have loved to do. Do such people really think it through before rejecting the idea of permanently leaving one’s country? If they do so, what goes on in their mind? Leaving one’s country forever sure is a big commitment. I respect those courageous individuals who plan to stay back and strive to improve the domestic scenario of the profession of their choice.

Once, a senior told me that a few people decide whether to leave their country or not depending upon their boyfriend/girlfriend’s decision. Another gave me a textbook-ish answer; decide ‘what you want and what you need’ first. Few make decisions based on knowledge obtained from television, films, their far off uncle or their peers. Of course, there are few others who come up with innovative ideas, such as general elections and exit polls.

The other issue is, coming back to one’s own country after spending sometime abroad. This may sound good, but not always feasible. For starters, your degrees must be recognised in both the countries. Often it is extremely difficult to get admission in certain streams abroad. Whether this is a fact or a wrong estimate, we don’t know. As I mentioned earlier, I don’t think this should be the criteria for deciding your line of study. If you love genetics and end up with psychology just because you want to go to the US, you have probably made a bad decision.

I’m in a similar phase in my life – undecided and looking for answers for certain uncertain questions. Here are some of my personal considerations that have haunted me over the last couple of weeks:

1. Do I really want to think about this now?
2. What do I like?
3. Can I imagine myself doing what I like after 10 years?
4. Is it feasible? Costs, duration of the course, et al? Do I have half-knowledge?
5. Can I stay away from my country – temporarily/permanently?
6. Is there a scope of going outside my country/coming back in future?
7. Few personal questions to myself – it varies for every individual
8. Did I consult my head and heart both? Am I being honest and trust my intuition? Do I deserve better?

This questionnaire needs revision, review and re-evaluation. All of us must create our own questionnaire and answer it truthfully, taking our own time. This effort on our part is required so that we don’t have to depend upon Kumari Mayawatiji for our future career decisions.

Eventually, each one of us would be in a position to decide the road ahead; most people on earth have ultimately walked towards some success in life.

(Serious comments on this post would be appreciated)

Solution to a Problem – I

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(Most people on earth are extremely moronic; they cannot solve their own problems. This sequence of blog posts will help eradicate various misfortunes that plague humanity and threaten its very existence.)

Recently, journalists have gone berserk in announcing how our government is ruining education – junior college to doctorate level.

Since the discussion on this issue is endless, I have decided to put an end to all such debates here itself.

For now, that’s one problem solved. You can thank me later.

Garbage Chronicles

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After taking an exam on Monday, extreme boredom and frustration took over me. Later in the evening, with no one around to hang out with, I picked up the Times of India and began reading it in the solitary confines of my room. In a world-weary mood, it was refreshing to read Jug Suraiya’s comments on ‘Second Opinion’ (What rubbish, we’re Indians – 18th June 2008). Apart from Shashi Tharoor, he’s my favourite columnist from the Times; his cynical attitude and sarcasm is unbeatable. The best part is that this article of his highlights something that I wanted to comment upon. He’s made my job easier.

Tory MP Lucy Ivimy has reportedly rubbished Indians and branded us as congenital litterbugs. Many bigwigs have accused her of racism and though she has apologised, the issue does not seem to die down.

Jug emphasizes on an interesting idea in this column – the ‘open window’ concept. According to this concept, modern civilians (like us) believe that it is their birthright to fling household garbage lumps straight out of the window. He goes onto say that we believe everything outside the sacrosanct confines of home, office, etc is alien to us and therefore a natural receptacle to our rubbish.

Each one of us has, at least once in our lifetime, thrown something outside the window. Many of us must have thrown some filth just yesterday, to a place where it rightly belongs – public places and boulevards. A lane which connects me to the main road is always squalid – with dirt thrown from windows lying helplessly on the road. Paper wraps, chewing-gum, rubber slippers, plastic bags, banana peels – not to mention used condoms, sanitary napkins and a whole of other such rot. It’s not only difficult to walk here, but also embarrassing, to say the least. I know civilised, educated, sophisticated and well-bred individuals who throw all sorts of waste outside their window – their nail clippings, peach seeds, bad rotis, wafer packets, old rice, etc. It’ll sound very clichéd if I talk about ubiquitous excreters – practising a peculiar asana with a bucket of water every morning.

When I was half-baked as a child, I have myself thrown filth outside the window. No one complained or scolded me. Probably no one felt the need to do so. Somehow, it did strike me later that the world outside is not really outside and different from the clean, spick-and-span world inside the reverent boundaries of my home.

When my local train reaches Bandra creek, educated people toss bits of waste into it. Some have genuine waste with them; others do it just for fun. Many people spit on roads not because they are eating paan, but just because its fun. It’s fun to spit outside the window too. It’s fun to dirty our neighbour’s backyard and throw trash in our colony garden.

It’s not for the first time that a foreign delegate has pointed our skills at harpooning when it comes to dealing with trash, but still we continue to spit filth back at them. This is not about glorifying foreign habitude; it’s about accepting our faults.

One of these days, such firangs will be forced to say, WTF – since we can’t beat them, lets join them. Aaack thoooo…!