A compulsion

As a student of journalism and a future journalist I would be mirroring the needs, aspirations and plight of the society. However, being driven to college every morning to meet the attendance requirement as a prime motivation makes me feel like a donkey. Led to the desired destination by a hanging carrot, the striking similarity of the situation and makes it highly demeaning. The 75% minimum attendance requirement for 'Journalism Hons.' in Delhi University hangs on our head like a double edged sword. Did the authorities get confused between minimum and maximum? By what standards is 75% minimum?

It's almost like we are sleep walking. We go to college because... uh, to get education. Why? Didn't you get enough education in your 12 years at school? Well, but that's what people do after high school. You need to go to college to get a good job (good job= great money = fabulous life style)and you need attendance, both in tutorials and lectures to take University Examinations and to be eligible for promotion to the next class. All those required classes are just obstacles one has to climb over to get the highly solicited degree.

For most students, college is somewhere between a stepping stone and the first taste of freedom. The reasons for not attending classes can range from, a genuine family emergency, a test in another class, time out for recovering from a bad breakup, an incomplete assignment, a beckoning PlayStation, a sudden urge to play Frisbee or even a hangover from the night before or because of your hatred for the class with every ounce of your being.

Coming back to the issue, is attendance the most convenient thing you can do to succeed? And is the lack of attendance the single easiest thing you can do to fail? Or is attendance just another innovative whip in the hands of faculty to bring wayward students on track? I am not against attending classes or the attendance rules requiring students to attend a particular number of classes. I agree that a certain amount of discipline is required but what's the point of attending lectures of the courses which have only instrumental value? All you need to pass these courses are a couple of reference books and notes which have been and are being passed to us by the seniors year after year like some sacred legacy.

In such a scenario caring about the course content or attending classes where the lecturer will dictate the same notes which he gave last year and last to last year and the year prior to that, well seem like wasted effort. Rather than making a grand show of attending classes of the courses which any student with an average IQ can handle on his or her own wouldn't it be better to attend various seminars, film festivals, workshops etc. instead which would help in the over all personality development of the students and equip them with practical knowledge required to handle real life situations.

Skills like original thinking, problem solving, critical ability, creativity, thinking out of the box, handling people etc and experience can't be taught by a lecturer reading out from his/her notes. What's the point of forcing some rules on students just so that the lecturer has a decent number dozing in his class that he can boast? Laying so much interest on attendance makes the entire system attendance centric rather than education centric thus defeating the entire purpose.

Apart from being shameful, using attendance as a stick to rear students to college manifests the shortsightedness of the authorities. These rules will only ensure physical attendance of students in class while they happily sketch cartoons, make graffiti, exchange texts, read the latest bestseller or chick let or just catch up on sleep… waking up occasionally to pretend to be taking copious notes. Let's face it; students will study when they want to study. If authorities really want the students to attend college, they need to look beyond attendance and should try to give the education system the much needed make over.

P.S: Is anybody listening?

Jab we Met

Blue line, the killer bus has almost been woven into my daily routine now; so much so that I can’t imagine a day without them. Some of the higher and cynical mortals often tell me me, "These blue lines are very unsafe, aren't you scared of these killer buses?" All I have to tell them is that you are perfectly ‘safe’ as long as you are sitting _in the bus, outside; ‘God save you’. Besides it saves me from the hassle of haggling with the impertinent auto waalas, apart from giving me something to crib and rant about on my blog. Yeah, a blue line ride can be quite happening.


After Madam X; here’s another colour added to my rainbow of ‘Blue line experiences’.

That day was like any other day in Delhi. I had my morning glass of milk, walked to bus stop, saw someone trying to spit his innards out and turned my head in the opposite direction only to see this uncle peeing in a comfortable corner, was whistled at. You get the idea, it was like another day in Delhi.
I was returning back home on a blue line which, was packed to its full capacity as usual (I strongly recommend that all our ministers should be made to travel on blue lines, trust me they will take ‘population control’ much more seriously after that).

Anyway, so there I was in the bus, when ultimately my stop came. Now for the ignorant or rather more privileged ones, let me tell you getting out of a blue line is no mean feat. You have to hold your bag and your breath and literally push + kick your way out! Why does one have to hold their breath you may ask; because my dear friend, the junta on the bus strongly believes that nothing can beat the natural body smell and putting a deo is way below their dignity. So unless you intend to faint, you must hold your breath!

Yes, so as I was pushing-kicking my way out, my bag got stuck somewhere and I couldn't move. I tried pulling it but in vain, I turned back only to find to my horror that the strap of my bag has got stuck in some fancy neck chain of a guy ! I looked up to get a better look at him and found him grinning from ear to ear in pure bliss. He strongly reminded me of one of those chimpanzee on Animal Planet, the likeness was striking. But come to think of it chimpanzees are cute!
He was all 5feet, dark…was wearing those typical black leather jackets and blue low waist jeans with ‘I ROCK’ written in red sequin, some fancy belt with skulls on it and black sunglasses at six o'clock in the evening(Yeah, well I am a good observer). In short he was short, dark and ugly! No matter how atrocious he might seem to the outer world, he himself was happily swinging in the comforting breeze of self-delusion (ignorance is bliss). So there he was standing in all his glory, totally helpless in removing that idiotic grin plastered on his face. I was disgusted, he was amazed; I was struggling to free my bag, he was pretending to struggle to free my bag; and the uncle jiz around were enjoying.


By the time I freed my bag and this scene straight out of some cheap ‘C’ Grade romance flick got over bus had already left my stop. So as the fate would have it again, from there I had to walk about 2 km to my home.


P.S: :-/

Blue lines in Delhi- The notorious killer buses

Rendezvous with Madam X's eccentricities

As if that crazy test wasn't enough, after class Madam X expressed her desire to go home with me. I was simply too shocked and confused to reply to her sudden offer and the true blue optimist that she is, she took my lack of reply as a whole hearted acceptance! With no escape route in sight, I went with her till the bus stop- limping, panting and carrying her heavy trademark jholas.

We waited for an auto for what seemed like eternity, meanwhile Ms. X danced on the road in her trademark style. To say the least, Madam X is a walking talking monument; she never ceases to be the focus of attention. Though attention that she attracts need not necessarily be positive, being in the media we believe any attention is good attention. As I fought off all the reflected attention I was getting by pretending not to know her, I wondered how being a communication teacher herself, she could not read the obvious non-verbal signs I was giving.

Ultimately, by gods grace the bus came (yes, we couldn't get an auto thanks to the good 10 minutes lecture she gave to three auto waal's on politeness, work ethics and what not!) I forced Madam X, my self and her classic jholas in the over crowded bus and thanked my stars that at least I wasn't alone with her.

Of course in the mean time Madam X being in her element continued with her perennial Bharat Natyam in the crowded bus (this is no exaggeration, on the contrary it's as literal as I can get).
As I wondered what worse could happen I realised in time that I was being optimistic to the point of foolishness, because then, just then in the half way, when I thought my troubles were over, a lightening realization struck Madam X, she had nirvana, she realized..........that…….... that she has forgotten to lock the media library!

Bas phir kaya tha.. driver ko bol kar bus rukwaye... khud to niche kud gayi... par mujhe post-man bana diya... she left... her 10kg ka khana + papers + other junk........with me.....and. asked me to drop them at her place............ and .....before she got down....she wanted her water bottle (what if i feel thirsty? How will I have college water? God..I'll die...!!) and so she did her authentic Madam X style search to find that particular “blue” water bottle ...she didn't want the white one I gave her (germs???). I was awestruck, trust me the Indian Anti-terrorism Cell should take a lesson or two from her in 'the art of searching' !!

Then as the fate would have it, I walked for about an hour carrying her junk...searching her makaan..........and ........“hai meri kamar.......ui maa....!!!”