Opinion


27
Apr 11

School days in prison


Ever heard people rant about how they loved their school days, and if they’d get a chance to go back in time, they’d do it in a blink of an eye. Well, that is certainly not my case. I dreaded school, the very thought of school, even now, makes my stomach hurl – sickening, really.

And, to my plight, there was no escaping going to school, even when I begged, pleaded, whined, made puppy dog faces, cried and hid from my parents under the bed, under the kitchen table, behind the tree in the lawn, in the boot of the car – nothing. I had to be part of a mundane educational system that inspired zero creativity and imagination.

This rudimentary system of education, which made sense in the early half of the 19th century, was made to cater to the industrial revolution. That’s why your mommy and daddy wanted you to be either and engineer or doctor – so you could get a job, and that’s why they frowned upon arts because there was no future there. Or at least that’s what they thought.

The learning environment i.e. hierarchy of curriculum (science at top and arts at bottom) and basic infrastructure never evolved with time, causing a conflict between the educational systems itself and the demands of the professional world – which no longer only consists of engineers and doctors.

Simply put, technologies and opportunities, which were never heard of when we were kids (like Facebook, Google and other creative platforms i.e. mobile, graphic design and advertising) are fields, which have created a surplus demand for individuals which no educational system of today is prepared for.

Let’s closely, for a moment, observe a typical day in school from my eyes. I’ve gotten into the military suit (the god forsaken uniform), strapped on a bag full of books which couldn’t intrigue a flint of curiosity, a lunch box with my favourite – bread jam or Maggie, a thermos filled with ice cold Roohafza (a sweet drink of survival).

There I am, in a class full of kids that are anxious for the teacher to walk in and put tiny stars on their faces – well, they did their homework. Me, on the other hand, loathe the very thought of doing any homework. I guess it’s the ā€œworkā€ in home that disheartened my kid-like spirits.

A daydream used to ensue the moment the teacher opened her mouth. Physically, there was very little I could do about my situation, but mentally no one could control my imaginative and inquisitive nature. I spent all my time observing birds, trees, the endless blue sky (courtesy big windows), the girls from the school next door (I went to an all boys school), the way a teacher carried her/himself, their character, the wood of my table, the smell of the concrete floors, the fan, the smell of chalk, the flee on my table and so on.

Often, I’d sit in class and wonder about the liberating life beyond the walls of my school.

How badly I wanted to escape the prison of pointless garble that came in the form of Maths, Science, History and the likes. I remained stoned-thick in the head. I didn’t want to be educated by a bunch of nincompoops – nothing but rote learning. Teachers would thrash my behind, knuckles and palms (corporal punishment was allowed back then) but their attempts proved futile.

Around exam time, I’d get a double thrashing from home simply because I’d pick up my bicycle and circled around town, again, observing people, things and why they were the way they were. The results of these activities proved quite fatal on my report cards.

If I were to put it in simple words, my report cards were like a visit to the theme park and riding the rollercoaster meant only for kids above 25 years of age. Obviously, my parents used to get nightmares and forego sleep on the days when a parent teacher meeting was called. We’d park far away and leave before anybody could notice. In short, I was the cutest looking embarrassment (oh, come on, I used to have dimples and the whole puppy dog thing going for me).

Anyhow, while other kids showed up on the day of the exam, chirpy and excited – huddled around each other, outscoring each others brain – I’d stand peacefully to a side and think about all the things I was going to do once the exam was over.

And, although, I was never prepared for an exam, my swagger was full of confidence. It used to take me exactly 2 minutes and 35 seconds to finish any exam – after all, how long does it take someone to write their name. On one such occasion, I ended up writing my best friends name. Imagine explaining that in front of my Principal, teacher and parents – this is when my mom gave me an exclusive thrashing of a lifetime.

Sadly for my parents, and to my luck, I was thrown out of a couple of schools. My dad must have had a tough time bringing up a retard like kid. I bet he’d pray to god, had he waited that day at work. In the corporate world, people hop from one company to another for money and ā€œchangeā€, I did it because I failed according to the educational system, but also because I liked the idea of going some place new.

At present, I run an advertising agency that is working closely with a client to setup an International boarding school, which proposes an International curriculum – an irony for the guy who hates the very idea of schools. But after three months of extensive research and learning, I’ve learnt that the education sector is under a massive revolution/overhaul.

According to Sir Ken Robinson, a world leader in the development of innovation, creativity and human resources talks about how education till now has only stressed on the left side of the brain – creating only professors for school and how the current system of education kills creativity. See the video.

All these years, I had this repulsive fungus-like anger hidden in the far corners of my heart, buried deep, deep down, under a tank of revolt. But, to my surprise, my views of schools and the education system have all gone for a toss. I can finally sit back and look at education with a promising smile on my face.

In the future, no longer the sciences and maths will be put on celestial podiums. There will be room made for the arts, not above or below, but as an equal. Right from the school building – the environment in which a child will learn, grow and imagine to liberating a child’s true passion by nurturing his or her’s true talent and creativity – the schools of tomorrow will be something even I’ll want look back upon.

Read this on GQ INDIA.


16
Jan 11

Sir Ken Robinson | Do schools kill creativity?


6
Jan 11

Resolutions

What? Not another New Year resolution? You’re feeling sea-sick? You can feel a stomach hurl coming along. While others rant of in oblivion about all the things they’re never going to do, I promise to disclose the anatomy of it all (and, no, this is not a resolution in any form). In other words, the hard and fast of a promise – a resolution – we intend to never keep.

To begin with, lets see why most of us start to panic around this fragile time of the year. It’s peer pressure from your social or work network that triggers a grenade of flustering thoughts. What will I tell Frank and Martha at the gala? Will they think less of me? Will the guy in the cabin next to me at work frown upon my very existence- even though he looks like a walrus?


This is when you begin to fantasize about all the things you’d left uncooked, half-done or put in the far corners of a closet, now full of cobwebs. These could be tiny little nothings i.e. going on a diet, smiling everyday, taking a bath every week, ticking off the imaginary number of women on my to date list, making conversation with complete strangers in alleys – you can add up, right?

And, once these resolutions or for the sake of conversation lets call them ā€œverbal missilesā€ are in the state of launch sequence, the countdown of sweat trickles down your spine. At this point, it becomes a battle of ego and crushing what others have publicly addressed via blogs or the company newsletter.

How can a junior assistant, to the assistant director, have a better New Year resolution then the boss himself? Its only when this topic comes up in a conversation over dinner, with a client, that the boss halts his schedule, sharpens his pencil and calls in the secretary with a peewee skirt – the kinds that make legs go all the way up.

Focus now. Moments later, a verbal missile would enter the email server trajectory by hitting every employee of the organization. This would be the mother of resolutions, one that clearly defines what every flea must do in order to sustain their position. If this was a ā€œreal warā€, it would look a lot like Sparta.

Much later, the second week of the first month, the wounded have left (you know, the no-more-twinkies-this-year kind people), and others (the people who you never seem to notice, even when they wear yellow pants) have already forgotten what it was that they publicly promised.

For the rest of us who were in a lazy boy this whole time, with feet up, a glass of Cognac in hand, and enjoying the show, couldn’t help but chuckle over the whole idea.


3
Jul 10

Men That Women Should Avoid At All Cost (Volume 1)

A while back, I had prepared a list of females that men should avoid at all costs. This time around, and due to popular demand, I’ve compiled the antidote. The list of men you’ll read about have either been acquaintances or been known in some way or other. The point is that the list matters, and not how I know them.

Although men are, by nature, polygamous and women monogamous, I can still draw a thin line between the different kinds of men and women. And ladies, to be honest, all men stare, all men are cheap (to some extent), and all men are MEN.

There. I feel much better.

There is a little bit of these men in every MAN. So, next time your man does something unorthodox or seemingly sheepish, you’ll be prepared. And, since there are so many different kinds of men out there, I have only selected a handful worthy of discussion. Feel free to request a TYPE in the comments section below.

Buckled up? Here we go ladies.

The Possessive Poodle
The reason I have chosen the Possessive Poodle, first, is because they are so damn popular. Look around; if you’re a woman, there are plenty of them, everywhere. The best way to define these gentlemen is their peculiar taste in almost everything garbled on ego. These over passionate, over board with the manner with which they conduct themselves and over (put almost anything you want here) kind of men. Usually, and mostly, women fall into their trap because they are puppy-dog like, harmless, feather like – fascinating, nearly. They will let women do whatever they please (wait, hold your horses) and as soon as the girl commits, you’d see the flipside – the real arse in disguise.
It would be a no this, no that, not now, not here, you’ll do as I say attitude. And, a month into this relationship, the girl becomes the Poodle – an angry bitch that’ll bite. No offense ladies, these men can do that to you.

Cure: Run for your life. Change all your phone numbers 300 times – and once more after that.

The Cheap Creep
Ah, the easiest one to find in a bunch of men. The Cheap Creep is a loner. Sporting a rapist-like smirk, eavesdropping on most conversations, eyeing all the butts and busts of the room – lavishly and openly. He is the I-think-I-am-Brad-Pitt type but actually looks like a shaved donkey. The Cheap Creep is a slimy fellow, usually lecherous by nature, and thinks he’s a player. He’ll approach girls with lines like: ā€œGod bless thoseā€ (And stare where men shouldn’t), ā€œLet me show you my chest hairā€ (while slowly unbuttoning the top 2 buttons of his shirt), ā€œYou ladies look like you need some actionā€ (and make sexual gestures). These are a few, I’m sure you can add to the list. Even a stripper or a low cost prostitute will not engage with The Cheap Creap.

Cure: Public humiliation: One tight slap.

The Beer Brawler
A perfectly sane looking individual who is known to be a champion. However, when his lips meet beer – the pig takes over. You’d be surprised at what follows next. Mostly found in the bathroom or on John’s new fish tank – throwing up. The Beer Brawler is the I-drink-50-beers-for-breakfast kind but gets drunk on 2 sips of root beer. He’ll try to stimulate ladies by his shallow antics and short-lived memory span. Even a bird with a pea size brain can outwit this bloke. Once the Beer Brawler gets drunk, he’ll enter into self-destruct mode. Usually leading to fights, random quarrels about how his girlfriend finds him immature or why he can’t score a better girl (well, a good one). Usually ladies fall into his trap because they believe a man can quit beer. No, really?

Cure: Fresh lime – lots of it!

The Bitch in Pants
I know what most of the ladies are thinking. Yes, you’re right. This is your favourite kind of man, the most popular in a group of girls. Wait, what? This may sound like a fantasy (to a few inexperienced men) but, the hard truth is, women love gossip. Yes, men gossip too, but this is one odd breed. He’ll know everything about everyone (even a super bitch would feel befuddled with his gossip prowess). He’ll out talk any girl in the room. There is some sort of a hidden channel via which this man receives all his feed. More so, women feel this urge to confide and confess all their secrets in him.

Note: For men, it would be a good idea to have one such friend. He’ll keep you out of trouble and into the right circle (remember he has so many girls around him).

A girl would not know who is the man in the relationship if she ever got with this queen. But, look at the bright side; you’ll have endless gossip. Need I say more?

Cure: Leave the room. Better, put some pants on.

The Cheating Cheetah
The most dreaded of them all. The cheat. The guy every girl wants to kill. Well, almost. Known to hop on and hop off relationships like a schoolgirl with candy. Hmmm… Well, not like a schoolgirl but a baboon on sugar. At first, this man seems perfect, like a saint from the hills. He’ll shower you with love and gifts (in most cases). You’ll be on cloud 9 for this, albeit brief, period. The inner working of this man are similar to a scam artist. Once the bubble pops, you’ll be heartbroken and distressed. Finally, all those warnings your friends gave will make sense.

Cure: Ask him to marry you on the third date and watch him run.

The Stingy Sheik
Contrary to popular belief, the Stingy Sheik is an elaborate spender. He’ll purchase the best of clothes, cars, mobile phones, shoes etc. etc. Here’s the catch: None of it will be for you. The only thing you’ll get is a set of bed sheets from Wal-Mart, at 50% off. He’d occasionally make you ā€˜ducth’ the bill on the pretext that women are equal. I say BULLSHIT.

Cure: Get your own wallet. Be a woman.

The Brag Basket
This man is full of himself. He’ll brag about everything, literally. An average conversation with this hoodwink will include the stretches of property, cars and women he owns. You’ll be yawning even before his Mercedes takes ignition. Also known to treat other humans like garbage – especially waiters and security guards.

Cure: Ask him about that Ferrari he couldn’t buy.

The Safe Boy
This is one of my favourites. The Safe Boy is your mom or dad disguised in sneakers and ripped jeans. He’ll shy away from any opportunity to take advantage, drink milk at a bar and even go to church in the morning. Will constantly worry about your health and take you on long drives with no intent. Very cute indeed, but wait, didn’t women prefer the bad boy? I’ll get to him very shortly. Usually women use the safe boy as a fallback toy. You would hear women say, ā€œHe’s been THERE for meā€ garbage.

Cure: Get a bad boy.
Speaking of bad boys. I’ve saved the best for last. Here’s the man himself.

The Bad Boy
This is not your average Joe. He’s the blue-eyed boy, the rock star of them all. He can jump in and out of any of the above roles at the drop of a hat. He is moody, choosy and downright egotistical and usually a good-looking stud. There will be commitment issues, relationship issues, and all sorts of issues that even I can’t fathom. Teachers hate him, mothers love him (mostly), and men envy him. He makes girls go weak in the knees, flirts recklessly and takes most of the girls’ home. Most girls can’t resist this dude too long. In fact, friends would wait in line to be with him. That’s crazy but all true. The only way you can go home with this bad boy is if your BOMB-like hot!

Cure: There is no cure. He’s going to be out of this world. Enjoy!

All right ladies, hope you enjoyed this short journey. I’m sure there are 10 more men you can think of that should make this list. Kindly add them below, in the comments section and I will write about them in Volume 2.

Note: Some descriptive bits have been left out to keep this blog PG-13.