Manish Bansal: Few pages from my life: October 2009

Saturday, October 31, 2009

My recent visit to Paris and aftermath....

Well, Though these toussaint holidays could have been planned much more hectic and buzzing, had some factors and luck got into the equations nicely, but still, these were one of the best times and trips I ever had. The reasons for all the fun I had were many, but the most evident being the city itself, the paradise PARIS. Its doubtless that this is a city of dreams and beauty and one can fall in love with it without any risk of treachery, which otherwise this cruel world remains always ready to play upon you. I had some of the best experiences of art, architecture, paintings, imagination, illusion, riches, jugaads, shopping, car rides, cooking and testing the strength of my body. Also I again confronted with various facets of my life, analyzed and recognized my SWOTs and again got confused with my future options. I think now I am creating a lot of suspense without clearing what all am I referring to and where in regard to my Paris visit and its aftermath. So I should stop creating a mystery and STOP.

Right now I would like to enjoy the moments a bit more, think a lot more, and come to equilibrium. Then may be I shall write a blog post about my experiences, and thoughts that popped out of me during the last week.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

It's not that I am superstitious but....

Finally after a month or so, I overcome my growing lazy attitude, and try to recollect one of the most thrilling experiences I had in my life. And not hard to guess, such a thing had to happen during the same old saga of French Exchange which has really become a highly populous region in graph of my life, when plotted for erratic and original experiences.

So this is about our trip to the city of Marseilles, second largest city of France and one of the most populated one’s, with some very nice cathedrals, Notre Dame and Beaches. Now the most important part associated with this trip was the lots of advices given to us by various people, both Indians and French and known for their French experience about the city of Marseilles. The city being one amongst the few in France known for its disorder in terms of law and some ordeals during nights like robbing, street fighting, eve-teasing and similar anti-social activities by some anti-social elements. So though it was not advisable to have a night stay in Marseilles, that we had already planned, it was strictly suggested not to loiter out in streets out of the hotel room after the sun sets, and avoid contacting strangers, who in Marseilles are famous for taking adventures in harassing people. But one after the other the advices came only after we had booked out hostel in Marseille and tickets for the next morning, so that nothing could be changed. But still trying to be brave heart we decided to continue our plans sticking to some extra caution.

So with bags packed, six of us get up early morning of 26 September, the day of Ashtami in India. Previous day, my mother had called me up and said to pray to Mata Ji in my mind after taking a bath and before eating anything. But that day as soon as I took bath, my brain oblivious to my mother’s command and my stomach not used to be stirred at such hour of the day (4:30 am) started having cramps and I immediately munched some bread with butter for the breakfast. Just before leaving our apartment for the station when we were just checking our tickets etc., our dearest fellow pinak remembers that he would like to have some milk. He pours some in his glass, with we all making fuss over him making everyone late, and swoosh he just slips the bottle (he always admits that his motor cells are not well developed) to spill the holy liquid over the floor. It’s not that I am superstitious, but later when I recollect the events to come, such a start doesn’t appear to be a very hilarious one indeed.

Hence we leave for our destination, reach there to meet 3 more of our buddies, as planned. We have a look into the city churches and cathedrals. While we were walking along the old port of the city, Bipul finds two neat 20 euro notes lying on the road side. After trying to look half-heartedly for the owner, we start celebrating our luck immediately. Though Akriti was a bit nervous about finding such large amount of money like this (40 euro = Rs 3000), we had already started planning for a party. But the black clouds had already started casting their shadow. Very soon we were almost thrown out of an Indian restaurant, Varun just saved himself after tripping while mounting a very steep staircase to notre dame, I get lucky enough not to be unlucky when at notre dame I saved my jacket which was finding its corner in the flame of candles in front of Mary, and while going to our last destination of the day, the beach, our map master bipul confuses over the map and makes us walk through the wound up roads of the city almost twice than that was needed and many of us have hard time at beach when the water made our muscles to cramp, giving us excruciating pains. But such things never bothered much to the travelers’ minds.

It was during one of our usual photo shoot sessions (Courtesy: Cameraman- Rohit and Model:Bhalla) on the beach rocks, that we noticed a distant pinak talking to some one (a stranger) and giving him something from one of our bags. This was high time for quickly applying our safety senses of not talking to strangers and we all scuttered towards him. So this stranger guy, who seemed to be an Indian, was offering help to pinak in case of need, and also asked us that we could stay at his place or his friend's, which we humbly and suspiciously declined as we had our bookings at the youth hostel. He also gave us some free passes for a disco in the city centre. Pinak, always eager to make contacts, got into detailed discussion with the guy, exchanged numbers and then after nudging from one of us, bade him a bye. Tired from the day's travel and beach fun, we decided to first go to our rooms and then plan the later things. After changing, we leave from the beach at a beautiful moment of sun kissing earth at the horizons, preparing to rise in other world.

Taking a tram, a metro and then a bus, we reach with quite a difficulty our hostel, which happened to be in very obscured suburbs of the city. With a sigh of relief we bang the reception windows for keys of our booked room just to receive the bolt from the blue, that due to some reason we would be unable to stay there. Such a situation being nowhere in our plans, we immediately find ourself stranded on a quite street of sub urban Marseille in front of the hostel gate, just with an added company of three californians who were also sailing in a parallel boat to ours. It was already past 10 in the night, and all the stories and cautions about Marseilles had started creeping in our minds. The only good feeling we had was that we were 9+3, and the three being Americans, who ought to be more brave and capable than us. We quickly decide to take some night bus and reach the main city to find some lodging there. So we start walking towards the bus stop. That stride too wasn't peaceful, as twice the pet dogs chained in the roadside houses barked the crap out of us. A pitch black cat just crossed the road in front of us. It's not that I am superstitious, but I let the American to lead, and cross the Lakshman Rekha first. Soon with hopeful spirits we reached the bus stop, which was merely a Lamp post marked with a bus sign. But things were written not to go right. The crazy French system of stopping all services at some fixed hour of night was much advanced in this blessed place, and there was no bus till 4 in the morning. Hark!!

Now we were right in guessing one thing. The americans are braver and more adventurous. But they are also hyper in there actions. Without a second thought, one of them stopped a passing by car asked, for a lift, and three of them zoomed away. On the other hand, we had been trying hard since last half an hour to avoid looking at any night bikist or car driver. As a result here we were back to a strength of 9, 9 iitians who had never thought it worthy to give some time to body building or learning fighting tactics. Very soon we were back to the front and sat near the gates of the same crooked youth hostel. Now unable to come up with plan- B we were completely awestruck. With every approaching bike or car, some of which even slowed down near us, our hearts pounded like hammers. And Akriti had already staring murmuring about the consequences of not giving her ear, when she had warned against picking those doomed 40 euros!!! She also stucked her passport and some cash in her stockings, just in case they had to run. On the other hand Isha was convincing her that according to her kundli she was going to reach India back safely, so they shall be all right.

We sat there for an hour and a half, knowing well that it was almost impossible to stay here for the whole night, without one or two fainting with fear, but we couldn't even set out with nowhere to go. The Californians also called us to tell that they had reached the main city with no accomodation in hotels, so they would be spending their night at the beach (I think the cat got it over them too). Thus they called of wishing us GOOD LUCK. It was then that the same Indian guy (Pramod) we met on beach struck our brains like church bells, and we contacted him (thanks to pinak for taking his phone number). He readily accepted to give us shelter and we took a sigh of relief. The black magic still on its high, road was not easy ahead too. With every radio taxi saying a no for a drive, we were in a fix again. But by God's grace we were finally able to hire taxis, and again after an hour or so of jumbling with the roads of Marseilles, we landed at Pramod's doorsteps. We adjusted ourself in his small room, but could hardly take a wink. The day's happenings and all previous descriptions had etched us so much, that we couldn't completely get rid of the feeling that Pramod also could be a terrorist or something, and mastermind behind our ordeal today!!! It was only when we safely left his place and had seated ourselves for a train to our next destination Montpellier that I was sure that I would live to write this story.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Where there is a will there is a way...

I think our government should also try to initiate and motivate such educational programmes for the underprivileged and poor but enthusiastic students, instead of increasing reservation in IITs to fill their vote banks.

Friday, October 9, 2009

I know this weekend is again going to be tough for me..

Today is Thursday, and unlike other Thursdays, today was quite packed with classes. I got free at 4 pm and had soon to report in salle de dance for practising some dance steps for the forthcoming International Student Week here. Then their was also some INSA club demonstrations going on, and I had some nice talks with a few new faces, and also got to know about a robotics community of my department who were present at le trou with a very sophisticated robot. Then I tasted the famous french cuisine 'crepe' at a stall nearby, and a few moments chit-chat here and there came back to my room at around 6pm. Then I hung up on skype for some minutes with my family in India, and by the time I was done, it had started raining outside. Last few days had been really sun's pick and it was really hot. But the feeling of cold gust of winds with some droplets of water in it, directly on face was quite refreshing. Soon I realised that it was time for dinner, and now here I am after having a filling dinner.

Overall today was quite eventful. I am a bit tired and feeling sleepy. However I dont't want to sleep so early. But its strange that I am not even having envie to do anything else. Though there is still a Friday to go with around 4 hours of classes, its smelling quite like the beginning of a weekend. And without any tour planned for this weekend, I am feeling similarly lazy like it did few weekend back in the time. (Refer to my post- I solemnly swear that I am upto no good).

And more importantly, the events around are also turning out to be similar. With temperature dropping, and weather forecast still pointing to a rainy weekend, I have my Things to do list full upto the end of the page, and I am lacking spice and energy to do any of them. The only difference is that I can this time foresee a bit what might happen if I continue with this state of mind, hence I am trying to be prepared with a alternative plan B.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

The Best of Worlds

This article was written by Sandipan Deb for Outlook India.com

Contrary to popular belief, the vast majority of IITians do nothing of note in their lives. Indeed, many of them became IITians because their parents told them that’s what they should mug their butts off for, and aim to hit the US of A, so that’s what they did. They attended classes, took notes, passed exams, took the gre, applied to a dozen American universities, and disappeared into that country’s vast technological underbelly, to reappear only in the matrimonial columns of Indian papers with a dollar salary multiplied diligently by the day’s exchange rate. Or they stayed in India, working at unexceptionable jobs, doing reasonably well. In either case, they got beautiful brides (often from rich families) and presumably lived happily ever after, meeting classmates once a month and chatting about their IIT days, and how Hippo has just changed jobs, and Zap is three rungs away from the top in Cisco Systems. Each of them had intelligence well above the average, and most, exceptional academic tenacity.

A decade and a half out of IIT, I wonder how many of us IITians achieved our potential? How many went to seed in remote dusty townships, tending massive pipelines and drinking in the township club? How many wilfully walked away from their natural talents in favour of safe MNC jobs selling diapers and hire-purchase schemes? How many, trained to think rationally and without bias, never managed to figure out the nuances of Indian office politics, and were relegated to obscure corridors in huge buildings? How many, obsessed with the American dream, settled for second-rate US universities, hung in for a green card, and today work at unfulfilling jobs in Idaho?

There’s another angle too to this. How many IITians, determined to stay engineers and in India, ignored the siren songs of the USA and the IIMs, and joined Indian industry, only to find that all the technical designs came from abroad, that you couldn’t change them even if you knew they were flawed, that all the engineering you got to do was maintenance, and knowing all that, they either settled into mediocrity, or went off to the US or the iims?

What was my IIT education all about? It was about IITians: 400 academically exceptional boys (and 12 girls) on a campus, which, in the case of Kharagpur, where I went, was far enough from civilisation to have very interesting effects on our coming of age. Many of us were truly extraordinary. There were boys from village schools who were leagues ahead in knowledge of the urban convent-educated type. There were those who mugged night and day, or simpered at professors from first benches, and there were those who also had a vibrant and busy life outside academics. I’ve found that the latter did better in life, even in fields like pure research. I also had friends who never needed to study, they had been apparently born with engineering wisdom in their genes. There were guys who spent most of the semester in a drug haze, but sobered up a few days before the exams, cracked them, and went back to their pharmaceuticals. Others did not have such control. Like Allen Ginsberg, I too saw some of the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness. A few dropped out (I met one of them years later in Shillong, a stridently devout convert to Catholicism, and a lowly government clerk, but he seemed happy), a few killed themselves. But, most of us survived. I suppose we became tougher, more mature, more knowing, and more aware of our dark sides.

We lived and ate together, and shared our joys and heartbreaks and good times and bad times, in competition and camaraderie. We compared our philosophies and, bit by stumbling bit, developed our value systems. Never were stronger bonds forged between young people. Years from now, if I meet an IIT wingmate on the road, I know we will carry on as if nothing had changed, and nothing actually would have. A couple of years ago, there was a small visual trick on an Outlook cover, which was my idea. A close IIT friend, whom I had not been in touch with for years, called up from Singapore: "Some other name is mentioned in the cover credits, but it was your idea, right? I know the way you think." No one knows me better than these mates of mine from IIT.

IIT was also a whole insular world in itself, complex and complete, and it sucked us in. As The Chosen, we lived a full life with no necessity of any contact with the outside world. Totally cut off from politics and "the bigger issues", our delights remained in competing fiercely on the field or the stage with other hostels or other colleges. There were few material pleasures. Lifestyles were spartan, the food abysmal. The vast majority of males were totally deprived of female company. The girls lived a strange life-on the one hand, they were hounded by dozens of would-be suitors; on the other, they faced the petulant hostility of the majority which saw them as undeserving of so much adulation and so many free lunches.

When we graduated, we went out into the world with a rare confidence and strong tribal loyalties. The confidence eroded a bit over the years, and we learnt some humility when we discovered non-IITians as smart as we were, and also people who could outwit us because they were intelligent in a different way-in a sly political way-an acumen we had not developed in our isolated environment which, above all, inculcated a sense of fairness and a respect for ability. We came to terms with a world that compared poorly with our beloved campus, and some of us even went ahead and conquered it. Others didn’t do well, but knew that the ties between them and the masters-of-the-universe classmates would never change. They were ties born of the pride of being an IITian. That pride would never diminish.

It never can.

The author, Deputy Editor of Outlook, is an Electronics Engineer from IIT Kharagpur. He also met his wife at IIT.

Strike or Terror Strike?

A hunger strike is a method of non-violent resistance or pressure in which participants fast as an act of political protest, or to provoke feelings of guilt in others, usually with the objective to achieve a specific goal, such as a policy change.

Fasting is a very ancient method of protesting against injustice or trying to attract attention of authorities. In India also, this practice is vey ancient and dates back to around 500 BC with even a mention of a similar attempt by Bharata in Ramayana, to stop Rama from going to exile. However, this method of protest saw its peak in early 20^th century, when Gandhiji’s famous doctrine of non-violence had to be made a strong enough blow to atrocities of British without actually bruising the principle of non-violence. Owing to the stature Gandhiji held internationally and in hearts of Indians, this method of strikes and fasting proved quite successful. Other faces like Bhagat Singh also used hunger strike to mobilise people and shook the foundations of British Raj to prove the importance of their demands.

That was an epoch, which India would never like to see again. It was the time when we were being ruled by a bunch of foreigners, against our will, in our own nation, in our own home. And to make sure that the hard earned fruit of combined efforts of frontiers of Indian nationalist movement is not wasted, we framed a constitution, constitution that ensured a government of the people, by the people and for the people.

Recently, there was a strike staged out by the professors of the most elite Institution of India- IIT. This was an attempt to get their demands for a pay-hike for the professors, and giving autonomous power for the promotion procedure of professors to IIT. The HRD ministry turned a defiant face towards the demands condemning the strike as irresponsible on part of laureates of IITs. After this there was again a declaration of strike, this time a hunger strike. There was quite a hustle about this in media to which Mr Kapil Sibal marked the ministry's policy quite firm and well decided. However the day came, and very soon Govt. lied with its knees bend, ready to conform to IIT professors’ demands. There are numerous other examples to a similar turn outs.

So the fact lies within is that strikes, or indefinite fasts come out to be one of the most successful weapons today in making government or institutions agree to one’s demands. Now here I take my pick, and come to the point for which this article was meant.

“What is the difference between one who goes on a strike and a terrorist?”

When a common man strikes there is an instantaneous disruption in whole working machinery of a city, state or nation. Similar are the effects of a terror strike. When a banker strikes, the whole economy goes in danger, there is a loss of lots of funds and interest on money. Bank strike makes public run hither and thither for money, and many companies loose important business deals due to inaccessibility to their accounts. When there is a transport strike, the whole mobility of public gets checked, making life a real hell. When doctor strikes, life of many comes under danger as diseases and emergencies don’t seek an appointment. Quite a similar is the scenario when terrorists attack a building, blast underground railways, kill and wound people and rob bank accounts through cyber-acts of physical bank bangs. Hijack of Air India flight IC 814 was a most dreadful terrorist attack on India. Hundreds of lives were kept hostages and there were demands of releasing dangerous terrorists and lots of money in return. It had really crippled the defence of our nation. But I ask this question, that how was that different from the hunger strike by IIT professors (I am not at all debating the reason of IIT professors strike or if the demands were just or not) recently or any other such fasting, except that the hostages here are none other than the demanders themselves. Attack on Parliament on 13^th December 2001 was a direct attack on our democracy. But even such give away by govt. to the demands of strike proves that strikes are attack of no lesser intensity on parliament. When we alone have chosen a government on written directives of Constitution adopted by all, why don’t we let it work on its own? I urge all the readers to ponder upon that is our democracy still flawed? Are we showing a loss of faith in the system by using such methods of protest?

No doubt that the strikes were justified at the time of freedom movement. Because then we were slaves, and had no say otherwise. But today, India is a free republic and democratic nation. The government is made out of us and works for us. If the aim of Constituent assembly that drafted our constitution is still on accomplishment, it stands justified for the government to use its prerogatives for framing out laws, after a proper discussion and scrutiny by 552 elected and (hopefully) educated representatives. Once we elect our representatives, there lies no reason in interfering in its working by using a cheap way of strikes. If one doubts the integrity of the government, then apply your candidature in next elections, and be the part of the government. Or if you still feel outnumbered, suggest changes in the constitution itself. Still if that does not seem feasible, then one can always put forth its point in front of nation by holding peaceful processions that do not hinder working of any department. One can win the support of whole nation by justifying himself in media, newspapers. No doubt government shall feel the pressure, and decide justly, if whole nation raises its voice for a common purpose. But in no way should strikes be tolerated and I think that the system must devise ways to fortify itself against them.