ISB's 8 - A thought to all those fests...

Yup. 2nd December was the actual 8th birthday of my present school - ISB. And today, we celebrated her birthday. Much like how it happens in the west, where irrespective of when your birthday or anniversary falls, you celebrate/party on that subsequent weekend! And celebrate we did indeed!

So, on Wednesday, the 2nd, we hoisted the ISB flag, and cut a cake! Well, in traditional ISB fashion, we should have had a dunking as well, but then we skipped arbit dunking for want of a dunkee!!! Besides, of late, on birthdays people feign colds and coughs - since it is frightfully cold in Hyderabad these days! And today, we had a cultural fest, with professors, staff and students putting up a gala show. Noteworthy was not just the quality of the show, but actually the enthusiasm shown by everyone. Now, all of us are hard pressed for time, caught up in a jungle of assignments and coursework. But today, all of that actually took a hike, as ISBians settled down to some serious fun.

While all this was fun, on my walk back home, I was reminded of my time in school and undergrad. Our annual days and college fests respectively were gala events for which people prepared for weeks. The enthusiasm would be huge! We used to bunk class under the pretext of practice. Well, of course we'd practise, but for 40% of the bunked time! In school it used to be all the more fun. All of us were kids and I vividly remember one girl in my class had the best dancing skills in the world! She single-handed choreographed all dance performances for our batch almost every year! And then in undergrad, during our inter-college fest, we used to have colleges visiting to participate. The mood would be nothing short of a Whyteleafe in a home lacrosse match mood. (Enid Blyton's Naughtiest Girl - for the uninitiated). The show stealer used to be the fashion show - where the best looking people of the college would take center stage. The clothes would be designed by us, the walk, the show would be choreographed by us, the props, lights and everything needed to pull off a visual extravaganza would be arranged! The fashion show would not just be a ramp walk, but a themed show. I remember the first one was themed 'attitude' and actually had our show stopper bite an apple and throw it into the crowds as a sign of 'attitude'! Coming of age? Well yeah I guess! And then of course - the college chant and the benign sledging when competition would come on stage - 'Ek Do Ek Do XYZ ko phenk do!' Man, the sound still reverberates in my head!

Good old days of college and school, and with today, I have yet another bookmark of a college event that I will cherish for life.

Quirky human nature

Almost every self help book tells you to live in the present moment. The Art of Living teaches us that, Vedanta teaches us that, good sense teaches us that. But yet, there is a deep tendency for the human psyche to hing on to the past. We call this nostalgia and many a time, we revel in it!

It's time for the Marketing Conclave here at ISB and as a promotion strategy for the event, the club guys are playing age old ads to show how brands have evolved. So some names are - Gold Spot - the ad with the typical 70s look people on roller blades, motor bikes and singing - Gooold Spot, the zing thing... Gold Spot! And then we have the Lehar Pepsi ad - with Remo Fernandes (who was a huge rage back then), singing - 'Are you ready for the magic?' Then we have the Nirma Ad - which hasn't changed its tune in all these years - the Hema, Rekha, Jaya aur Sushma continue, their faces have changed, but they still remain. All these triggered a wave of thought in my head. I went back down memory lane to the ads of those days. Think - Lalitaji. Then there was the 'O ho Deepikaji' for the 'Nirma Super Neeli Detergent Tikiya!' And then we had the quintessential Cadbury ads, with 'Kya Swaad hai Zindagi mein'. Oh and how can I forget 'Vicco Turmeric, nahin Cosmetic' or 'Vajradanti, Vajradanti Vicco Vajradanti'. We had ads that were downright tacky to absolutely fantastic!

But do we look down upon the ads of those days? The answer is a resounding NO! They remind me of the innocence of the time back then, where a brand was never really endorsed by celebrity powerhouses! Cadbury's had everyday people dancing on cricket fields celebrating a century. Raymond's and Digjam had nattily dressed men - well, not being 'complete men' or playing soccer with kids and then heading off to board meetings, but rather just being nattily dressed men. A Pepsi ad just had a catchy jingle, no allusion to the uber cool urban man fighting another for 'MyCan'. At least for me, they are my link to the past, my link to the guileless days. They take me back to innocent childhood. They remind me of the days spent playing in the space around our apartment blocks (back then, we used to call them just building) and then coming home to see some random thing on TV, while concentrating on these advertisement interludes. They remind me of Ad competitions in school, where we'd enact these ads on stage in a highly looked-forward-to session on Friday evenings called SCA (Social and Cultural Activities).

As archaic as they may seem, these simple, quasi rustic ads actually bring a smile on to our faces. We have evolved as a civilization, we have travelled, seen the world outside. We have liberalized, internalized the ways of the western world. But at the core, our desigiri still stands out and at some point of time, we really feel happy thinking back about our comfort zone. So, some may say that living in the past is wrong, dwelling in the past is insane. But for me, the hues of memory lane are inviting and soothing and are my refuge from the throes of the madding world.

A Childhood lost -III

I wonder how many more childhood lost posts I am going to write. But each time I see children having to act in totally un-childlike manners, on account of societal pressures, I don't like it and the desire to try to do something against the miscarriage of childhood, makes me at least want to write something about it. Children, when they're born are supposed to be bundles of joy. But how these bundles soon become burdens is something that we as a society need to revisit and correct. Here are my 3 points to ponder on A Childhood lost - III.

A while ago, at the threshold of the board exams in India, I had written something about how much children are pressurized, while saying that exaltation of poor performance is certainly not needed. Here is that post. Now, as time has passed, the number of cases of youth depression and anxiety over exams, parents piling the pressure and themselves succumbing to the performance epidemic has seemed to have skyrocketed. Kids killing themselves over the stigma of being caught copying? Parents immolating themselves, since their kids refuse to study? It seems bizarre, and really sad. I mean, why? I understand, that given India's population, there is a huge disconnect between the demand and the supply of seats for higher education. The competition is cut throat. But the answer does not lie in psychological terror and too much of importance being put on a three hour dash to the finish line. Why can't schools have a strong support system, that inculcates values of healthy competition, coupled with counselling about all available options? Can't the counselling apply to parents as well, who only want their kids to be investment bankers or doctors or engineers? One may argue that the huge crowds that make up classrooms leave teachers with precious little they can do. I counter back, saying, if a teacher can remember the names of all 60 of her students in class in a year, she can certainly look to the well being of those 60 lives. If not, in times of gore unemployment, please recruit teachers! The system needs revamping and reform. Our education system is strong. We manage to churn out tough world leaders who rise through adversity to conquer the world. All Indian achievers are testimony to our strong primary education. Let us make the facilitators of such education strong as well! Temper management sessions for teachers, psychological counselling for parents, teachers, aptitude testing and so on, must be freely available. We have the means, all we need is the mechanism.

Second, juvenile violence. One may say that India is fairly immune to the 'campus shooting' spree seen in Western countries. But children are children of the world! Again, one must treat the juvenile mind as just that. a tender, impressionable, flower that needs careful tending to. Almost every campus shooter leaves an online trail as a means of posthumous gratification. If the Patriot act can scan peoples' online trails in the wake of terror attacks, don't students' life on campus fall under the purview of internal security? Why can't someone find such psychologically fragile minds and treat them before a tragedy strikes? How much more awareness do people need? So many instances over the past decade. A movie by Gus Van Sant. I guess people are sufficiently aware. But one needs to classify juvenile violence as a problem and take some active steps towards solving this problem. Violence can stem from poverty, domestic violence, rifts at home, or just a curable mental condition. Again, we have the means to counter these causes, and we should, instead of devoting newsprint to a morbid account of these meaningless acts of violence.

Third, poverty among children. This is a problem highly rampant in India, more pronounced in metropolitan cities, where the poverty is in your face. Slumdog Millionaire has brought the slums into scrutiny, but more as part of slum tourism than as a wake up call to the powers-that-be to make a difference. Poor children throng sea-sides to trap the random tourist for making the money needed for their meal. But the childhood innocence remains intact, when at being shunned by a rude person, they just run off in playful abandon, screaming and jumping in groups. Mumbai's infrastructure may be soaring. But every flyover has tears of a two year old and the sweat of a 6 year old in its foundation. That has to stop. The day a 4 year old grimy child stops selling balloons to a well dressed 3 year old, childhood would be regained.

Other posts on A childhood lost - A Childhood Lost , The Pressures of Childhood

The pressures of childhood...........

Well, I saw an episode of BONES yesterday, and that really provoked a lot of thoughts. The theme covered two topics on which I have had rather strong sentiments about. Well, for those who don’t know BONES, it is an excellent show that generally revolves around a newly found skeleton every week. It is the job of the forensic experts to trace a face, figure out who the skeleton was when it was more than just bones, and eventually trace the killer. All within the one hour. And this makes the show totally power packed. Anyway, yesterday’s show spoke about the skeleton of a 9 year old female, who had been a kiddie beauty pageant winner. The suspects ranged from a demanding parent, a competitor’s miffed mother, another kid’s creepy looking elder brother and hold your breath….. another 9 year old! The killer…. The 9 year old!!!

They say television more often than not projects current society or at least a projected society of the future. (Please do not include regressive daytime soaps or the Hindi K serials!!! They don’t represent television as a genre!) So, this episode covered two topics – pressure on kids and glamour. So I was tempted to write ‘A Childhood lost…. II’. I still remember, many households in our native village, which I would visit during vacations, would have at least 2 kids. And the parents there would feel very proud if their kids could recite shlokas coherently. “You know, Ganesh can recite 8 verses of the Geeta without prompting, and he is 4.” This statement would be accompanied by a beaming face, full of pride! And today, people take pride in the fact that their child can sing ‘Ishq Kameena’ or even dance hideously to those tunes! I am not terribly old. But yes, I have seen the decadence if I can call it, in front of my own eyes. It would have been better if this was restricted to the households and family-friends parties. But, now, we have managed to broadcast this crass show on national television. The result? It is for all to see. One kid was paralyzed since she suffered a terrific shock at being ridiculed on national television. Now we all know how hideous it is to be made fun of in front of a classroom full of kids our own age. While competing, the motivation is to become a star in front of the nation. The ultimate exaltation. Unfortunately, the fall is equally, if not more precipitous. And kids till the age of 12, are not psychologically strong enough to handle this hit. At an age when all they should ideally think of revolves around amusement parks, swings, clowns, games, playing and of course school, I guess people choose to burden them with careers, glamour, fame and fortune. There is a time and an age for everything. Just like how you can’t be a football star at 80, you cannot be expected to be a celebrity at 8, and lead a normal life. Every star has a high and a low. It takes tremendous courage, strength and grit to put up with failure and ridicule. This maturity comes with age.

The second issue is glamour. This has been an industry that has fascinated me since ages. Not for any other reason except the fact that it aims to make money through people’s vanity. What is in vogue today will be passé tomorrow! And all we can do is try to continuously match up. I am reminded of a time when I was a little girl. There was this real mean older girl in the neighborhood. She had a huge bunch of cousins and all these people were my only ‘friends’. I still remember one day, when we were going to go outside to play, they were just getting out as well. And all of them were wearing a certain green hair band. Mine was red. And the mean girl said, “we are all green… you are only red.” I ran back home, and pulled out my green band, and went out, only to see them all wearing red now. “we are all red, you are only green.” I guess I got my first lesson of not wanting to play match up, pretty early on in life. But the world of glamour is harsher, meaner. You need to have the perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect smile, every single minute. Add to it the bitchiness and backbiting tendency of everyone who wants to make it to the top. The place at the top has room for just one person. And it is a crazy world out there with everyone kicking and scratching and screaming, pulling down those who managed to rise up. The result? Many dope to doom! The most prominent case, which was also made into a movie, is the case of Gia – immortalized by Angelina Jolie in a movie by the same name. Closer home, we have Shivani Kapur and Geetanjali Nagpal, the latter notoriously found begging on the streets of Delhi. Imagine, 25 year old seasoned arc light experts buckle under the pressure. And kiddie beauty pageants are a craze in the US. They have always been so over the years. I don’t think I need to describe the immense psychological pressure it puts on these kids. I don’t even need to describe the tremendous consequences.

I wish I could make an earnest appeal to all the fame hungry parents out there. Please let the kids be happy. They need to enjoy life. See the world, smell the fresh rain soaked mud, scream from the top of a windmill, run barefoot in the waves, eat ice creams and chocolates without worrying about calories and inches. Just please return their childhood to them and take pride in the fact that their innocence is intact, and not in the fact that they can identically imitate Hrithik Roshan’s dance steps!

A CHILDHOOD LOST

The other day, I happened to hear Jagjit Singh’s ‘Who Kaagaz Ki Kashti’, a beautiful ghazal whose essence is a reminiscence of one’s childhood. The first few lines of the song go thus

Ye Daulat Bhi Le Lo,
Ye Shohrat Bhi Le Lo
Bhale Cheen Lo Mujhse Meri Jawaani
Magar Mujhko Lauta Do Bachchpan Ka Saawan
Wo Kaagaz Ki Kashti Wo Baarish Ka Paani

And I was transported back in time to the good old days where the only worry in life was to figure out how to get the first turn on the swing in the evening at the park! Memories of childhood are made for those rainy days where you sit by the window and watch the water cascade down the panes. And far off in the distance you hear the squeals of laughter as kids of various shapes, sizes and colors, run outside in the pouring rain, and get wet, unmindful of their mothers who literally scream themselves hoarse trying to get their kids back to shelter. That sweet aroma of wet mud, the fun in jumping in those puddles and splashing water on the kids nearby… those good old days…. The monsoon then had a totally different meaning. Every morning we’d wake up and look at the sky. If it looked grey and cloudy, we’d all be happy and cheerful. If mom would tell us that it had been raining all night, all the better. We’d go to school, clean and neat, and get back home in an hour all soiled and murky. School’s closed, let the party begin!!!!

The song goes on to describe an old lady in the area, a grand motherly person for all the kids.

Mohalle Ki Sabse Nishaani Purani
Wo Budhiya Jise Bachche Kehte The Naani
Wo Naani Kee Baaton Mein Pariyon Ka Dera
Wo Chehre Ke Jhuriyon Mein Sadiyon Ka Phera
Bhulaaye Nahin Bhool Saqta Hai Koi
Wo Choti See Raaten Wo Lambi Kahaani

Well, we had our own ‘Ba’ too. She was a grumpy old lady who lived on the ground floor of our apartment building. She never liked kids, since they made too much noise and always broke her windows. And somehow, as kids, we followed Gandhian laws, Gandhigiri, much before Munnabhai could teach us how it’s done. We believed in ‘Love thy enemy’. And somehow, Ba and we had an unending love affair! She’d hate us peeking into her house, and we would ensure that we do just that. Once when she got so angry and walked up to the window in a huff, we very meekly pointed to the clock and said, “Time dekh rahe they auntie. Homework karne jaana hai na” and scampered off laughing. But mind you, this was not a one sided hate game. She had totally destroyed our effort of making our building premises environmentally rich! She had heartlessly pulled out the seed of the plant that we had tried to grow. It is a different thing that we had planted a mango seed in her pot, without her knowledge, and poured too much water in it. So when she saw two heads bobbing up and down outside her house and came to investigate, we were busy throwing away the excess water. Now who had expected her to stand in the path of the water’s projectile motion???!!!????

And just as these memories were streaming through my head; I remembered the morbid pictures of the Virginia shootout, the news piece about a certain twelve year old ‘terrorist’ beheading a captive! At 12 years of age, I didn’t even know who a terrorist was! That won’t hold true in today’s world anyway, since today every toddler, never mind whether he knows how to say ‘mamma’ certainly knows how to say Osama and Al Qaeda! Kids are killing other kids, other people. Such violence, hatred, qualities so uncharacteristic of children!

All of us would have seen the commercial on television that showed a poor child peeping through the fence as two kids fought for a ‘scholarship-bearing’ soiled cloth. What most of us didn’t see is the fact that those longing eyes find a place on practically every child at the traffic signal. Every child that is made to carry its smaller sibling and beg for money using the infant as an object of pity. What most of us fail to notice are the dreams of the children who work as hired help in houses, tea stalls, and small restaurants.

Most of us at least get a smile on our faces as we think of the time years ago when we were kids. By the time these children can begin to think of playing in the rainwater, they have been robbed of their worriless innocent existence. Many of them reconcile to the fact that their life will always remain on this side of the fence, while some others pick up a weapon, as a means to vent out their anguish. There is a very thin line that separates the oppressed from the violent. The sapping point is seldom, if ever noticed by anyone. And more often than not, it takes a Bastille for people to stand up and take notice…..