6th November 2004
Do all these equal opportunities things in some way break the natural order of the way of life? Free compulsory education pushes such typical stuff down the throats of zillions of children –most of this totally inutile. Where is the specialised knowledge that can be learnt when young? What is happening to all that? Is a whole way of life dying out? Is everyone being cast into the same mould in this age of specialisation? Can we really know so much of everything? What IS a ‘basic idea’? How ‘basic’ is it and how necessary? Can we learn true skills in all this education? Smithy, pottery, farming, fishing, trade? Or any one of these at least? Is it fair to kill lifestyles, to kill culture in the name of equal opportunities?
But then who decides who is born to a weaver, who to a chemist and who to a prime minister? Shouldn’t all of us have some chance of becoming any of these things? Why we are not allowed to truly explore and decide for ourselves? Why cannot we all be provided with some chance of not worrying about whether it is possible? I think that would be egalitarian. But what about the stuff a father teaches a son or a mother a daughter? Do we not in someway lose the respect for our parents and their professions because we have other choices?
20th November 2004
High cliff days
For so long I have suppressed memories of those happy days of freedom walking slipper-less in the slush, running up and down on the ‘rappelling rock’, jumping from rock to rock, sliding down the mud path, avoiding the thorny bushes on the ‘grass –cars’. Climbing first to the top, running fast, fast fast. FREEDOM, FREEDOM ,FREEDOM! Memories of those joyous days cannot be compensated for, no matter what.
The thorny skirts, the doggy smells, leeches, the muddy Chappal, the tall tank, deaf-off tongue, the rock paintings, the Hoopya shirt, hop-scotch, the true friendship, affection, the excitement, the loss of Maami and of Rumple, sorrow.
Of kites, muggus, crackers, colours, Holi, Ganesh, Christmas trees, bank-days, new year eves, walk in the night, playing, playing, playing. Those days are gone, lost in the past, leaving me with no substantial recompense.
I can visualise every portion of the campus-rich in colour, like like-from the light green creepers, pink flowers, beautiful gardens, chitrakut, writing on it, rushing up the rocks, sliding down the railings, sitting under the shed that rainy day, being called boisterous and not understanding.
Dona, Apara, Nivi, Sumi, Deepika, Supriya –Bullu –her farewell party, Valmiki’s pen. Those days of freedom, friendship, acceptance, nature all mixed with no hypocrisy except that of petty politics and fights.
The rainy days, paper boats down the slopes, getting totally wet, the kitchen and outside, throwing away my stuff, the staircase railings, study room, dance, trying to record singing with Akku, writing ‘Rumpy’ on the balcony wall with nail polish, upstairs my bedroom, amma appa’s bedroom, my table in it, the stony baths, my bath room, Swathi eating soap, the broken chair, clothes, dolls, cooler, clothes stand, bed, the books I so loved, opening the door carefully, being scolded fro reading instead of playing, house of Arden, George’s marvellous medicine, grey paint, Bama, building blocks, neighbours houses, their rooms, Captain Planet, Scooby doo, cloud watching with Sumi and Amma,jealousy, chatting with Sam uncle and Rajiva, Aravinda and Anuradha aunty, birthday parties with pooris and laughing competitions, and Ramaswamy uncles Krishna. How can I forget all this? Those days so complete in every aspect with barely a jot of studying…a state of natural social and hence psychological satisfaction!