Freddie Mercury Did you really know

"Another one bites the dust" and "The Show must go on"-I can't help thinking about the recurring suicides in IIT when I hear these two masterful tracks from Queen.A few days ago,another "Mechanical" engineer from IITM succumbed to societal pressures and sadly,ended his life.There were statements from the media,the IIT where it happened,the IIT where these things happen the most,other IITs,parents,friends and peers and now the dust has apparently settled,and life goes on,at the same pace and we wait until something like this happens again,to stop and think.

Now,why does this happen??

How do youngsters who've coped with a stress-buster like IITJEE barely into their teens,get so worked up in a place like IIT which give wings to the thinkers,freedom to explore to the rebels,a chance to discover themselves to the confused ones,and a sound environment for the ones who know their true calling.It is the confused category,to which people generally belong,and hence begin to feel lost when they see so much happening around them.They sure try hard to fit in,and to establish themselves but IIT is just that kind of a place.More than the academic pressure or the societal mores,it is this feeling of being alone amongst a thousand,that is actually the root cause.We can ponder on why it happened,but there can be no valid reason,I'm sorry for committing such a grave and sinister act,which is absolutely beyond logic.It's like saying that the end of life is the end of all problems.Mate,you got it wrong and we are all sorry about that.

Also,since the IITs are like this hallowed home in a country that really doesn't have much to be happy about,Do we blow this out of proportion??

The incessant media coverage forces me to believe that yes,it is indeed a little hyped but hey,that is no excuse for trying to cover things up.And Dear Dean of IITM,Please,IT IS NOT FUCKING STATISTICALLY UNIMPORTANT.Yes Sir,you did no wrong in all of this and are in no way responsible,but being a little sensitive and less of a motormouth would have been nice.Even the system is only slightly at fault,due to its silly obsession with numbers.It is rigorous,but then it is a harbinger of the nation's best minds.It deserves to be rigorous,give them more and more challenges and prepare them for the demons of workaholicism,that lurk outside,smacking their lips and ready to pouch on them,knowing that these are indeed their best bet.The college deserves that much,and trust me it is not like we are being killed with 8 hrs of lectures like the doctors,or classes after classes like the CA's.It is indeed a balanced system,with,as I said,a little more adherence to numbers than their should be.But then,Is there such a thing as a perfect system?

To reduce this malaise,I feel that people should stop treating IIT as an antibiotic-a cure for all problems,or as an easy way to succeed in life.It is primarily an institute for engineers and thinkers,and not wannabes who just want to live off the IIT Brand,which by the way,is kinda my plan too.Disinterest and lack of spirit in whatever you do,can really cause a catastrophe and it is really time for parents and students alike,to understand that.It is akin to surviving and flourishing in a place where an entirely different language is being spoken,as my friends on foreign interns might be realizing .India is changing and we need to think beyond the Doctor-Engineer route.Amongst other possibilities , a revamp of the curriculum-as in the syllabus,including more real life elements with an emphasis on basic skills,would be a good heads up.

On the personal level,a lot has been done and said about student counsellors ,but then they are redundant if the student does not go and tell him his problems,which most of us actually fail to realize.For a start,people need to talk about this more seriously,and not treat it like it's sex or something-a supposed taboo topic. The onus is on the students and parents to change an entire train of thought.

IIT needs to be the tough guy,people.Softening it up ain't a solution.To end I'd like to quote one of my favourite writers

“You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be.”

Ernest Hemmingway

Dovetails,Petals,Curtains and Colours

She once asked He to write something for her.

I am only the voice behind his thoughts.This is their story.

"Whenever James Blunt croons "You're Beautiful" in his incredibly love lost and smooth sailing voice,a series of images flash in front of his eyes.Against a chasm of hazy and electric blue,it is due to that breathtakingly pretty face of hers,that there is stillness and quiet,despite the divaricate and chaotic imagery that his thoughts are conjuring.With a curt smile gracing her rose petal lips ,she teases him and he gets lost in the realm of those watery eyes,which always seem like they are saying something.

She is constantly pushing back tufts of her silken hair,that braze her blossom cheeks like curtain braids which brush against him,as he stares out the balcony.The nose is his favorite though.He says it looks like a little piglet's nose and she twitches it dismissively like Nicole Kidman in Bewitched.She is still smiling at him ,this time playfully and is generous enough to give us glimpses of the pearls that glint inside.

He fondly remembers that for the first few years that he had known her,he used to remain tongue tied in her presence.The angel like aura that she had ,a mere mortal admirer like him could only be left speechlessly spellbound.The sun however did shine on him , and they became.I daresay,the best of friends in due course.

He would now know that behind the blinding light that she emanated from a distance,there was an innocent and childishly enthusiastic,almost naive persona.She would be distant and cold one moment and unbelievingly caring and affectionate the next.They fought on petty matters and she used to shower him with those cute and snarly death threats, twitch that pigletty nose and strut off into the distance.The moments when they used to talk about life,love and what not,she would listen, dreamily at that,and he would think that he was boring her.When she talked ,he would have to make conscious attempts to listen and not stare,for he was just so badly smitten.He was slipping into something totally unknown to him.

All this while,the beauty was absolutely oblivious.God's almost pitch perfect work of art,was an artist herself and her world was all about colors and canvasses.Splashes and dashes of blue and hue, wavy motions of the hand,sometimes caressing the canvass,sometimes almost dismissive,she would bring to life the most vivid sequoia of flowers-pink,green and indigo.Images of lonely boatmen on the horizon,feeling the orange radiant sunset,or of the tranquil sea,lashing against bedrocks and carrying away so much with it.She could talk to colors and felt at home in their company , looking at ceilings and walls,floors and parapets and wonder if peacocks or umbrellas could grace them.She would get so engrossed that the world around her ceased to be a world per se ,and a void,an emptiness,would set in as soon as she set the paintbrush down.She yearns for similar passion , a love that is blind and will not judge her devout and sometimes abstract creative streak and just love her for what she is.She is aware that a Utopian World does not exist and yet she strives for that eluding extra inch of perfection-something she has always secretly dreamt of.

She asks him sometimes,the meanings of life's mysteries and unpredictable ways and he just glances at her and smiles.He is as clueless,if not more about what life holds in store.The world confuses both of them,and yet  words and colors keep them going.They glide along seamlessly through separate ways and keep reliving their struggles with each other.Their philosophies and their paths are as different as chalk and cheese and yet they are so similar.She smiles at him,this one killer and electric.Sometimes,his heart skips a beat when she does that.Her colors are calling her out once again and she flies out to them,with unparalleled vigour and fairy grace.Meanwhile,James Blunt is done with his ballad.The F.R.I.E.N.D.S Theme Song is now playing.

How apt and how excruciatingly beautiful.

He closes his eyes and tells her,silently, that they will always be friends and will live on in each other.She has now almost finished reading this.It is eerie and late at night.I am sure she has a lot to say.

Dhobi Ghat,Mumbai etc

Disclaimer : This is not a 26th January post about how we only get patriotic on certain days and blah blah,nor is it a chastity filled lashing at those who do not even bother to fake patriotism even on those days.

It has been barely half an hour since I watched "Dhobi Ghat" and yes,it blew my mind so damn hard that I just had to write this down.The movie in essence, is not a theatrical at all.For all I care , It could have been a poem with floating,resonating lyric or a photo slideshow with those still images,silently speaking out much much more than the cacophonic movie fare (Read Akshay Kumar movies) that we are treated to,these days.A sordid tale about a city one can't help falling in love with, Kiran Rao,the debutant director has sketched her characters with surreal expertise,each one of them defining Mumbai in their own way.

Prateik,The dhobi represents the fighter that Mumbai is, doing what it can to make ends meet and yet,never giving up on their dream-of making it big.The innocent pining and longing,with the shy shrugs and the almost sweet way with which he interacts with Monica Dogra's character is a high point of the movie.The other male protagonist,the perfectionist Aamir Khan , plays a loner painter in the movie and gets into the skin of his character with typically consummate ease.He is the Mumbai ,which is not sure of itself , who has loved and lost and carries on,looking for inspiration in a couple of video tapes that he chances by.

Monica Dogra as the hotshot American banker,out on a sabbatical,is the Mumbai that is trying to come to terms with it's own essence,through her photography and of course her love soirees. "Posh and elite but not at all distant from ground reality"-this trait of her's was something really impressive.And yes of course,she is very pretty :P.Kriti Malhotra plays the Muslim wife who wants to capture Mumbai through her video camera and ends up being a muse or a subject to Aamir Khan ,displays moments of true cinematic brilliance with her innocent eyes and almost unbelievable endearance.She is the Mumbai which is puzzled by it's own pace and instead of running with it like Monica or Prateik do,she choses to sit back and take the feeling in ,losing strength but not her innate sweetness.Easily my favourite character in the movie ,just because of my obsession with "CUTENESS".

Last but not the least,there are fleeting images of the old ,silent woman, who is the Mumbai that is dying and decaying , silently observing what goes on around her ,too powerless to say anything and yet ALIVE by all means.A fantastic movie for the purely artsy people.To me it felt like a breath of fresh cinema,like someone's silk dupatta blowing across my face.Though I agree,not everyone will like it.