Back in India, many government entities have woken up to this beautiful medium. Scores of FB accounts have been made by govt. organisations. Last month I came across the Northen Railway FB account at the New Delhi Railway Station. Scores of updates by the Foreign Service batchmates, who don’t seem to be having much to do apart from attending parties and tennis matches, post links to Embassy and Consulate accounts on FB. On these accounts, they post photos of more parties and more matches. Speeches on indi chini bhai bhai. Idli and Sushi side by side. It’s a perfect picture of Valhalla, a soothing relief from the low and dry of life out here. Umm…

Digs apart, FB is going a good thing about showcasing us, and what we do in the Government. Much of what most of us do is worse than boring. It should be comic to post photos of lousy fat files mounted on our tables like a wretched Zenga, or potbellied peons on attendance – nothing sexy there. Thankfully, governance is a large conglomerate, and many people do many things that verge on the sexy. Almost [well, certainly in GovSpeak]. Here’s why FB can be a good tool in the hands of the Government:

1. Govt. is lazy. Adding some photos that you take with your digicam is as lazy as it gets. All you need to do is just add some description of what is happening, and you got a photo, and a page. You don’t have to put up a PUC and proceed – Here, Supdt saab, take this PUC. Ask DPRO to send someone to get a photograph, print it, scan it, give it to DIO, put up for a description, and make a draft, and send to NIC for upload….wah wah wah. With FB, it’s like this – Here, DPRO saab, post some photos of the CM visit to Drang, willya.
2. Govt. is nuts. Posting some photos does not require much apart from nuts – northern hemisphere may lack some mass, but just some nuts would do [wherever they be]. So, it’s easy. So, same as above.
3. FB is sexy. Now, if you have ever visited a Govt. website, you would seldom want to revisit. Unless, you again have some work there. Just like our offices. One wonders why the Govt. cannot hire a web designer and programmer do redesign their websites. I do [wonder]. But we do a shabby job at presentation – it’s just not our forte. Enter FB. You just cannot mess it up. It’s easy, it displays well on anything – from computers to iPads to the Android phones. Better still, it looks the same for everyone – so here, I can compete with NDTV or Tata. Just do your spellcheck well. And ta ta. Level playing field. No designer, no programmer. Thankfully, no NIC.
4. What we do in the Government is slow. Tedious. Thankless. More often you get the idea that more things change, more they remain the same. But the Anganwadi worker does go to the field, and looks after the nutritional needs of the kids. The Female Health Worker in the Sub Centres visits every pregnant woman, and looks after the primary health of the village. The Patwari visits field to field – well, almost. Camps, numerous in kind, are held daily by all departments. The Police catch hold of the charsi, the wifebeater, the crooked. This is the little work that keeps society going, this oiling and preventive maintenance on a tight budget and in strained conditions, is what keeps much of India moving. It’s not a happy situation, it’s not worthy of passing on to our next generation, but there it sits. So, till such time as Anna babaji sits for another dieting, we have to make do with what we have. This non-sexy face of Govt. is missing on NDTV. We need to fight our case in the court of the public perception. And this is where FB enters. It’s the best PR agent we can hire. Just post pictures baby.

Unfortunately, there is a perception that Govt. has to be a Netnanny. Since FB is fun and sexy, it must be banned inside its portals. So, FB does not run on the NIC network, and it does not run on our HIMSWAN. It may be true that many people just keep FBing during work hours, and so it had to be banned. Most corporate environments also have banned it. That may be correct. But what we need to do certainly is create our presence on FB. Maybe, we should put our HODs to maintain our FB accounts – best prize to the best FB account. What say?

Is that you, dear… why, it’s you!
So how come you ‘bout here?
Ah! Must be feeling nostalgic.
Here, this place where your charms grew,
Where you grew beautiful, and a little cruel,
Where we once met, and then you departed.
Yes, the old days are so nagging,
Although, you are so strong.
But why… why are tears welling in your eyes?
Do you cherish this place old?
But everything is gone… only shambles,
The rustling fallen leaves, the moss and brick,
The rusty bench, and the air sick.
But again so much is here;
Hidden, but… perhaps….not lost.
Let’s walk a little more,
Let’s walk beside.
Let’s see if we can find something old.
-16/5/00, Calcutta-63

COMMENTS :

Very few people know but Charles Dickens’s most famous novel Great Expectations is also a great love story. There the protagonist Pip falls hopelessly in love with a girl, who, he is induced to believe foolishly, was destined for her. The girl Estella, brought up in such a way that she became dead cynical and devoid of all tender sensibilities, finds amusement in sustaining the illusion Pip holds, until she jilts him by marrying the man who is not only abhorrent but is also Pip’s mortal enemy. It is a very foolish marriage, rash indeed- the husband treats Estella very badly. Fortunately he dies. Pip, by this time had left behind his past and went to make on a new life in a new place. One day he comes to visit his old place and finds Estella there. In the earlier version Dickens had a sad ending for the readers, but forced by popular demand, he mended the end and gave us a more optimistic ending. Although the ending is left ambiguous in the end, it still leaves enough scope for the optimist to write his own ‘And they lived happily ever after.’

The poem and the treatment of the ending was inspired by a recent film version of the novel which starred Robert de Nero as Magwitch, which ended with the lovers holding hands as the sun went down on a fine evening.

Macaulay was a master of English, and much like Machiavelli with whom he shares much in reputation, Macaulay is read both in English and Political Science classes. A simple read of what he wanted to bring about, and what we have in its place (take up any newspaper to gauge the pedestrian nature of its prose) brings the stark irony to the forefront. But then it is never too late to make a virtue of an incompetence. Since we could not master Queen’s, we created our very own demesne – Indian English.

For those who might not have come across this document elsewhere, I present Macaulay’s Minute on Education here:

Minute by the Hon’ble T. B. Macaulay, dated the 2nd February 1835

[1] As it seems to be the opinion of some of the gentlemen who compose the Committee of Public Instruction that the course which they have hitherto pursued was strictly prescribed by the British Parliament in 1813 and as, if that opinion be correct, a legislative act will be necessary to warrant a change, I have thought it right to refrain from taking any part in the preparation of the adverse statements which are.now before us, and to reserve what I had to say on the subject till it should come before me as a Member of the Council of India.

[2] It does not appear to me that the Act of Parliament can by any art of contraction be made to bear the meaning which has been assigned to it. It contains nothing about the particular languages or sciences which are to be studied. A sum is set apart “for the revival and promotion of literature, and the encouragement of the learned natives of India, and for the introduction and promotion of a knowledge of the sciences among the inhabitants of the British territories.” It is argued, or rather taken for granted, that by literature the Parliament can have meant only Arabic and Sanscrit literature; that they never would have given the honourable appellation of “a learned native” to a native who was familiar with the poetry of Milton, the metaphysics of Locke, and the physics of Newton; but that they meant to designate by that name only such persons as might have studied in the sacred books of the Hindoos all the uses of cusa-grass, and all the mysteries of absorption into the Deity. This does not appear to be a very satisfactory interpretation. To take a parallel case: Suppose that the Pacha of Egypt, a country once superior in knowledge to the nations of Europe, but now sunk far below them, were to appropriate a sum for the purpose “of reviving and promoting literature, and encouraging learned natives of Egypt,” would any body infer that he meant the youth of his Pachalik to give years to the study of hieroglyphics, to search into all the doctrines disguised under the fable of Osiris, and to ascertain with all possible accuracy the ritual with which cats and onions were anciently adored? Would he be justly charged with inconsistency if, instead of employing his young subjects in deciphering obelisks, he were to order them to be instructed in the English and French languages, and in all the sciences to which those languages are the chief keys?

[3] The words on which the supporters of the old system rely do not bear them out, and other words follow which seem to be quite decisive on the other side. This lakh of rupees is set apart not only for “reviving literature in India,” the phrase on which their whole interpretation is founded, but also “for the introduction and promotion of a knowledge of the sciences among the inhabitants of the British territories”– words which are alone sufficient to authorize all the changes for which I contend.

[4] If the Council agree in my construction no legislative act will be necessary. If they differ from me, I will propose a short act rescinding that I clause of the Charter of 1813 from which the difficulty arises.

[5] The argument which I have been considering affects only the form of proceeding. But the admirers of the oriental system of education have used another argument, which, if we admit it to be valid, is decisive against all change. They conceive that the public faith is pledged to the present system, and that to alter the appropriation of any of the funds which have hitherto been spent in encouraging the study of Arabic and Sanscrit would be downright spoliation. It is not easy to understand by what process of reasoning they can have arrived at this conclusion. The grants which are made from the public purse for the encouragement of literature differ in no respect from the grants which are made from the same purse for other objects of real or supposed utility. We found a sanitarium on a spot which we suppose to be healthy. Do we thereby pledge ourselves to keep a sanitarium there if the result should not answer our expectations? We commence the erection of a pier. Is it a violation of the public faith to stop the works, if we afterwards see reason to believe that the building will be useless? The rights of property are undoubtedly sacred. But nothing endangers those rights so much as the practice, now unhappily too common, of attributing them to things to which they do not belong. Those who would impart to abuses the sanctity of property are in truth imparting to the institution of property the unpopularity and the fragility of abuses. If the Government has given to any person a formal assurance– nay, if the Government has excited in any person’s mind a reasonable expectation– that he shall receive a certain income as a teacher or a learner of Sanscrit or Arabic, I would respect that person’s pecuniary interests. I would rather err on the side of liberality to individuals than suffer the public faith to be called in question. But to talk of a Government pledging itself to teach certain languages and certain sciences, though those languages may become useless, though those sciences may be exploded, seems to me quite unmeaning. There is not a single word in any public instrument from which it can be inferred that the Indian Government ever intended to give any pledge on this subject, or ever considered the destination of these funds as unalterably fixed. But, had it been otherwise, I should have denied the competence of our predecessors to bind us by any pledge on such a subject. Suppose that a Government had in the last century enacted in the most solemn manner that all its subjects should, to the end of time, be inoculated for the small-pox, would that Government be bound to persist in the practice after Jenner’s discovery? These promises of which nobody claims the performance, and from which nobody can grant a release, these vested rights which vest in nobody, this property without proprietors, this robbery which makes nobody poorer, may be comprehended by persons of higher faculties than mine. I consider this plea merely as a set form of words, regularly used both in England and in India, in defence of every abuse for which no other plea can be set up.

[6] I hold this lakh of rupees to be quite at the disposal of the Governor-General in Council for the purpose of promoting learning in India in any way which may be thought most advisable. I hold his Lordship to be quite as free to direct that it shall no longer be employed in encouraging Arabic and Sanscrit, as he is to direct that the reward for killing tigers in Mysore shall be diminished, or that no more public money shall be expended on the chaunting at the cathedral.

[7] We now come to the gist of the matter. We have a fund to be employed as Government shall direct for the intellectual improvement of the people of this country. The simple question is, what is the most useful way of employing it?

[8] All parties seem to be agreed on one point, that the dialects commonly spoken among the natives of this part of India contain neither literary nor scientific information, and are moreover so poor and rude that, until they are enriched from some other quarter, it will not be easy to translate any valuable work into them. It seems to be admitted on all sides, that the intellectual improvement of those classes of the people who have the means of pursuing higher studies can at present be affected only by means of some language not vernacular amongst them.

[9] What then shall that language be? One-half of the committee maintain that it should be the English. The other half strongly recommend the Arabic and Sanscrit. The whole question seems to me to be– which language is the best worth knowing?

[10] I have no knowledge of either Sanscrit or Arabic. But I have done what I could to form a correct estimate of their value. I have read translations of the most celebrated Arabic and Sanscrit works. I have conversed, both here and at home, with men distinguished by their proficiency in the Eastern tongues. I am quite ready to take the oriental learning at the valuation of the orientalists themselves. I have never found one among them who could deny that a single shelf of a good European library was worth the whole native literature of India and Arabia. The intrinsic superiority of the Western literature is indeed fully admitted by those members of the committee who support the oriental plan of education.

[11] It will hardly be disputed, I suppose, that the department of literature in which the Eastern writers stand highest is poetry. And I certainly never met with any orientalist who ventured to maintain that the Arabic and Sanscrit poetry could be compared to that of the great European nations. But when we pass from works of imagination to works in which facts are recorded and general principles investigated, the superiority of the Europeans becomes absolutely immeasurable. It is, I believe, no exaggeration to say that all the historical information which has been collected from all the books written in the Sanscrit language is less valuable than what may be found in the most paltry abridgments used at preparatory schools in England. In every branch of physical or moral philosophy, the relative position of the two nations is nearly the same.

[12] How then stands the case? We have to educate a people who cannot at present be educated by means of their mother-tongue. We must teach them some foreign language. The claims of our own language it is hardly necessary to recapitulate. It stands pre-eminent even among the languages of the West. It abounds with works of imagination not inferior to the noblest which Greece has bequeathed to us, –with models of every species of eloquence, –with historical composition, which, considered merely as narratives, have seldom been surpassed, and which, considered as vehicles of ethical and political instruction, have never been equaled– with just and lively representations of human life and human nature, –with the most profound speculations on metaphysics, morals, government, jurisprudence, trade, –with full and correct information respecting every experimental science which tends to preserve the health, to increase the comfort, or to expand the intellect of man. Whoever knows that language has ready access to all the vast intellectual wealth which all the wisest nations of the earth have created and hoarded in the course of ninety generations. It may safely be said that the literature now extant in that language is of greater value than all the literature which three hundred years ago was extant in all the languages of the world together. Nor is this all. In India, English is the language spoken by the ruling class. It is spoken by the higher class of natives at the seats of Government. It is likely to become the language of commerce throughout the seas of the East. It is the language of two great European communities which are rising, the one in the south of Africa, the other in Australia, –communities which are every year becoming more important and more closely connected with our Indian empire. Whether we look at the intrinsic value of our literature, or at the particular situation of this country, we shall see the strongest reason to think that, of all foreign tongues, the English tongue is that which would be the most useful to our native subjects.

[13] The question now before us is simply whether, when it is in our power to teach this language, we shall teach languages in which, by universal confession, there are no books on any subject which deserve to be compared to our own, whether, when we can teach European science, we shall teach systems which, by universal confession, wherever they differ from those of Europe differ for the worse, and whether, when we can patronize sound philosophy and true history, we shall countenance, at the public expense, medical doctrines which would disgrace an English farrier, astronomy which would move laughter in girls at an English boarding school, history abounding with kings thirty feet high and reigns thirty thousand years long, and geography made of seas of treacle and seas of butter.

[14] We are not without experience to guide us. History furnishes several analogous cases, and they all teach the same lesson. There are, in modern times, to go no further, two memorable instances of a great impulse given to the mind of a whole society, of prejudices overthrown, of knowledge diffused, of taste purified, of arts and sciences planted in countries which had recently been ignorant and barbarous.

[15] The first instance to which I refer is the great revival of letters among the Western nations at the close of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth century. At that time almost everything that was worth reading was contained in the writings of the ancient Greeks and Romans. Had our ancestors acted as the Committee of Public Instruction has hitherto noted, had they neglected the language of Thucydides and Plato, and the language of Cicero and Tacitus, had they confined their attention to the old dialects of our own island, had they printed nothing and taught nothing at the universities but chronicles in Anglo-Saxon and romances in Norman French, –would England ever have been what she now is? What the Greek and Latin were to the contemporaries of More and Ascham, our tongue is to the people of India. The literature of England is now more valuable than that of classical antiquity. I doubt whether the Sanscrit literature be as valuable as that of our Saxon and Norman progenitors. In some departments– in history for example– I am certain that it is much less so.

[16] Another instance may be said to be still before our eyes. Within the last hundred and twenty years, a nation which had previously been in a state as barbarous as that in which our ancestors were before the Crusades has gradually emerged from the ignorance in which it was sunk, and has taken its place among civilized communities. I speak of Russia. There is now in that country a large educated class abounding with persons fit to serve the State in the highest functions, and in nowise inferior to the most accomplished men who adorn the best circles of Paris and London. There is reason to hope that this vast empire which, in the time of our grandfathers, was probably behind the Punjab, may in the time of our grandchildren, be pressing close on France and Britain in the career of improvement. And how was this change effected? Not by flattering national prejudices; not by feeding the mind of the young Muscovite with the old women’s stories which his rude fathers had believed; not by filling his head with lying legends about St. Nicholas; not by encouraging him to study the great question, whether the world was or not created on the 13th of September; not by calling him “a learned native” when he had mastered all these points of knowledge; but by teaching him those foreign languages in which the greatest mass of information had been laid up, and thus putting all that information within his reach. The languages of western Europe civilised Russia. I cannot doubt that they will do for the Hindoo what they have done for the Tartar.

[17] And what are the arguments against that course which seems to be alike recommended by theory and by experience? It is said that we ought to secure the co-operation of the native public, and that we can do this only by teaching Sanscrit and Arabic.

[18] I can by no means admit that, when a nation of high intellectual attainments undertakes to superintend the education of a nation comparatively ignorant, the learners are absolutely to prescribe the course which is to be taken by the teachers. It is not necessary however to say anything on this subject. For it is proved by unanswerable evidence, that we are not at present securing the co-operation of the natives. It would be bad enough to consult their intellectual taste at the expense of their intellectual health. But we are consulting neither. We are withholding from them the learning which is palatable to them. We are forcing on them the mock learning which they nauseate.

[19] This is proved by the fact that we are forced to pay our Arabic and Sanscrit students while those who learn English are willing to pay us. All the declamations in the world about the love and reverence of the natives for their sacred dialects will never, in the mind of any impartial person, outweigh this undisputed fact, that we cannot find in all our vast empire a single student who will let us teach him those dialects, unless we will pay him.

[20] I have now before me the accounts of the Mudrassa for one month, the month of December, 1833. The Arabic students appear to have been seventy-seven in number. All receive stipends from the public. The whole amount paid to them is above 500 rupees a month. On the other side of the account stands the following item:

Deduct amount realized from the out-students of English for the months of May, June, and July last– 103 rupees.

[21] I have been told that it is merely from want of local experience that I am surprised at these phenomena, and that it is not the fashion for students in India to study at their own charges. This only confirms me in my opinions. Nothing is more certain than that it never can in any part of the world be necessary to pay men for doing what they think pleasant or profitable. India is no exception to this rule. The people of India do not require to be paid for eating rice when they are hungry, or for wearing woollen cloth in the cold season. To come nearer to the case before us: –The children who learn their letters and a little elementary arithmetic from the village schoolmaster are not paid by him. He is paid for teaching them. Why then is it necessary to pay people to learn Sanscrit and Arabic? Evidently because it is universally felt that the Sanscrit and Arabic are languages the knowledge of which does not compensate for the trouble of acquiring them. On all such subjects the state of the market is the detective test.

[22] Other evidence is not wanting, if other evidence were required. A petition was presented last year to the committee by several ex-students of the Sanscrit College. The petitioners stated that they had studied in the college ten or twelve years, that they had made themselves acquainted with Hindoo literature and science, that they had received certificates of proficiency. And what is the fruit of all this? “Notwithstanding such testimonials,” they say, “we have but little prospect of bettering our condition without the kind assistance of your honourable committee, the indifference with which we are generally looked upon by our countrymen leaving no hope of encouragement and assistance from them.” They therefore beg that they may be recommended to the Governor-General for places under the Government– not places of high dignity or emolument, but such as may just enable them to exist. “We want means,” they say, “for a decent living, and for our progressive improvement, which, however, we cannot obtain without the assistance of Government, by whom we have been educated and maintained from childhood.” They conclude by representing very pathetically that they are sure that it was never the intention of Government, after behaving so liberally to them during their education, to abandon them to destitution and neglect.

[23] I have been used to see petitions to Government for compensation. All those petitions, even the most unreasonable of them, proceeded on the supposition that some loss had been sustained, that some wrong had been inflicted. These are surely the first petitioners who ever demanded compensation for having been educated gratis, for having been supported by the public during twelve years, and then sent forth into the world well furnished with literature and science. They represent their education as an injury which gives them a claim on the Government for redress, as an injury for which the stipends paid to them during the infliction were a very inadequate compensation. And I doubt not that they are in the right. They have wasted the best years of life in learning what procures for them neither bread nor respect. Surely we might with advantage have saved the cost of making these persons useless and miserable. Surely, men may be brought up to be burdens to the public and objects of contempt to their neighbours at a somewhat smaller charge to the State. But such is our policy. We do not even stand neuter in the contest between truth and falsehood. We are not content to leave the natives to the influence of their own hereditary prejudices. To the natural difficulties which obstruct the progress of sound science in the East, we add great difficulties of our own making. Bounties and premiums, such as ought not to be given even for the propagation of truth, we lavish on false texts and false philosophy.

[24] By acting thus we create the very evil which we fear. We are making that opposition which we do not find. What we spend on the Arabic and Sanscrit Colleges is not merely a dead loss to the cause of truth. It is bounty-money paid to raise up champions of error. It goes to form a nest not merely of helpless placehunters but of bigots prompted alike by passion and by interest to raise a cry against every useful scheme of education. If there should be any opposition among the natives to the change which I recommend, that opposition will be the effect of our own system. It will be headed by persons supported by our stipends and trained in our colleges. The longer we persevere in our present course, the more formidable will that opposition be. It will be every year reinforced by recruits whom we are paying. From the native society, left to itself, we have no difficulties to apprehend. All the murmuring will come from that oriental interest which we have, by artificial means, called into being and nursed into strength.

[25] There is yet another fact which is alone sufficient to prove that the feeling of the native public, when left to itself, is not such as the supporters of the old system represent it to be. The committee have thought fit to lay out above a lakh of rupees in printing Arabic and Sanscrit books. Those books find no purchasers. It is very rarely that a single copy is disposed of. Twenty-three thousand volumes, most of them folios and quartos, fill the libraries or rather the lumber-rooms of this body. The committee contrive to get rid of some portion of their vast stock of oriental literature by giving books away. But they cannot give so fast as they print. About twenty thousand rupees a year are spent in adding fresh masses of waste paper to a hoard which, one should think, is already sufficiently ample. During the last three years about sixty thousand rupees have been expended in this manner. The sale of Arabic and Sanscrit books during those three years has not yielded quite one thousand rupees. In the meantime, the School Book Society is selling seven or eight thousand English volumes every year, and not only pays the expenses of printing but realizes a profit of twenty per cent. on its outlay.

[30] The fact that the Hindoo law is to be learned chiefly from Sanscrit books, and the Mahometan law from Arabic books, has been much insisted on, but seems not to bear at all on the question. We are commanded by Parliament to ascertain and digest the laws of India. The assistance of a Law Commission has been given to us for that purpose. As soon as the Code is promulgated the Shasters and the Hedaya will be useless to a moonsiff or a Sudder Ameen. I hope and trust that, before the boys who are now entering at the Mudrassa and the Sanscrit College have completed their studies, this great work will be finished. It would be manifestly absurd to educate the rising generation with a view to a state of things which we mean to alter before they reach manhood.

[31] But there is yet another argument which seems even more untenable. It is said that the Sanscrit and the Arabic are the languages in which the sacred books of a hundred millions of people are written, and that they are on that account entitled to peculiar encouragement. Assuredly it is the duty of the British Government in India to be not only tolerant but neutral on all religious questions. But to encourage the study of a literature, admitted to be of small intrinsic value, only because that literature inculcated the most serious errors on the most important subjects, is a course hardly reconcilable with reason, with morality, or even with that very neutrality which ought, as we all agree, to be sacredly preserved. It is confined that a language is barren of useful knowledge. We are to teach it because it is fruitful of monstrous superstitions. We are to teach false history, false astronomy, false medicine, because we find them in company with a false religion. We abstain, and I trust shall always abstain, from giving any public encouragement to those who are engaged in the work of converting the natives to Christianity. And while we act thus, can we reasonably or decently bribe men, out of the revenues of the State, to waste their youth in learning how they are to purify themselves after touching an ass or what texts of the Vedas they are to repeat to expiate the crime of killing a goat?

[32] It is taken for granted by the advocates of oriental learning that no native of this country can possibly attain more than a mere smattering of English. They do not attempt to prove this. But they perpetually insinuate it. They designate the education which their opponents recommend as a mere spelling-book education. They assume it as undeniable that the question is between a profound knowledge of Hindoo and Arabian literature and science on the one side, and superficial knowledge of the rudiments of English on the other. This is not merely an assumption, but an assumption contrary to all reason and experience. We know that foreigners of all nations do learn our language sufficiently to have access to all the most abstruse knowledge which it contains sufficiently to relish even the more delicate graces of our most idiomatic writers. There are in this very town natives who are quite competent to discuss political or scientific questions with fluency and precision in the English language. I have heard the very question on which I am now writing discussed by native gentlemen with a liberality and an intelligence which would do credit to any member of the Committee of Public Instruction. Indeed it is unusual to find, even in the literary circles of the Continent, any foreigner who can express himself in English with so much facility and correctness as we find in many Hindoos. Nobody, I suppose, will contend that English is so difficult to a Hindoo as Greek to an Englishman. Yet an intelligent English youth, in a much smaller number of years than our unfortunate pupils pass at the Sanscrit College, becomes able to read, to enjoy, and even to imitate not unhappily the compositions of the best Greek authors. Less than half the time which enables an English youth to read Herodotus and Sophocles ought to enable a Hindoo to read Hume and Milton.

[33] To sum up what I have said. I think it clear that we are not fettered by the Act of Parliament of 1813, that we are not fettered by any pledge expressed or implied, that we are free to employ our funds as we choose, that we ought to employ them in teaching what is best worth knowing, that English is better worth knowing than Sanscrit or Arabic, that the natives are desirous to be taught English, and are not desirous to be taught Sanscrit or Arabic, that neither as the languages of law nor as the languages of religion have the Sanscrit and Arabic any peculiar claim to our encouragement, that it is possible to make natives of this country thoroughly good English scholars, and that to this end our efforts ought to be directed.

[34] In one point I fully agree with the gentlemen to whose general views I am opposed. I feel with them that it is impossible for us, with our limited means, to attempt to educate the body of the people. We must at present do our best to form a class who may be interpreters between us and the millions whom we govern, –a class of persons Indian in blood and colour, but English in tastes, in opinions, in morals and in intellect. To that class we may leave it to refine the vernacular dialects of the country, to enrich those dialects with terms of science borrowed from the Western nomenclature, and to render them by degrees fit vehicles for conveying knowledge to the great mass of the population.

[35] I would strictly respect all existing interests. I would deal even generously with all individuals who have had fair reason to expect a pecuniary provision. But I would strike at the root of the bad system which has hitherto been fostered by us. I would at once stop the printing of Arabic and Sanscrit books. I would abolish the Mudrassa and the Sanscrit College at Calcutta. Benares is the great seat of Brahminical learning; Delhi of Arabic learning. If we retain the Sanscrit College at Bonares and the Mahometan College at Delhi we do enough and much more than enough in my opinion, for the Eastern languages. If the Benares and Delhi Colleges should be retained, I would at least recommend that no stipends shall be given to any students who may hereafter repair thither, but that the people shall be left to make their own choice between the rival systems of education without being bribed by us to learn what they have no desire to know. The funds which would thus be placed at our disposal would enable us to give larger encouragement to the Hindoo College at Calcutta, and establish in the principal cities throughout the Presidencies of Fort William and Agra schools in which the English language might be well and thoroughly taught.

[36] If the decision of His Lordship in Council should be such as I anticipate, I shall enter on the performance of my duties with the greatest zeal and alacrity. If, on the other hand, it be the opinion of the Government that the present system ought to remain unchanged, I beg that I may be permitted to retire from the chair of the Committee. I feel that I could not be of the smallest use there. I feel also that I should be lending my countenance to what I firmly believe to be a mere delusion. I believe that the present system tends not to accelerate the progress of truth but to delay the natural death of expiring errors. I conceive that we have at present no right to the respectable name of a Board of Public Instruction. We are a Board for wasting the public money, for printing books which are of less value than the paper on which they are printed was while it was blank– for giving artificial encouragement to absurd history, absurd metaphysics, absurd physics, absurd theology– for raising up a breed of scholars who find their scholarship an incumbrance and blemish, who live on the public while they are receiving their education, and whose education is so utterly useless to them that, when they have received it, they must either starve or live on the public all the rest of their lives. Entertaining these opinions, I am naturally desirous to decline all share in the responsibility of a body which, unless it alters its whole mode of proceedings, I must consider, not merely as useless, but as positively noxious.

T[homas] B[abington] MACAULAY

2nd February 1835.

I give my entire concurrence to the sentiments expressed in this Minute.

W[illiam] C[avendish] BENTINCK.

And while we are at it we shall beckon a ‘thought of the day’ and try to understand what someone said about lies.

“If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will eventually come to believe it.”
–Joseph Goebbels

Goebbels was the Minister for Public Enlightenment and Propaganda during the Nazi regime, and one of the closest advisors of the little genius. Do keep in mind that Goebbels started his life as a journalist. So, how was it that he proceeded to propagate the lie and garner enlightenment for his Chosen People. I would presume he recalled an incident from Medieval history on the shores of Mediterranean.

Everyone loves Alexander. At a young age he did what people thrice his age could only dream of. Across the world people spent the next 23 centuries trying to match his exploits. While not a match, there were quite a few common things between Hitler and Alexander – they were both short, they were both brave, they were both mad, they were both stubborn, they were both ravishers and thrived on rape and rapine and pillage, both came close to conquering the world, and both died rather ingloriously (Alexander died of mosquito bite or whatever, we still don’t quite know; Hitler reportedly took cyanide and simultaneously shot himself – one does not know what hit him first, the poison or the bullet). History, however, looks quite differently at the two. There is a city called Alexandria. There is no city called Adlofia or Hitleria. Hitleristan, anyone? Now for some strange reason we shall overlook, Alexandria had the world’s greatest library. Well, at that time, Alexandria was the greatest city for that matter. Any city that goes either too much towards the sky, or too much towards any other direction, incurs the wrath of gods or people. Sometime back those foolish people in the Middle East (can anyone tell me why is it called Middle East? I mean, there can be a west, there can be a east. If it is in the middle, it is called centre. But Middle East! Don’t much blame Tolkien for that matter. He must have got his Middle Earth designation from present geography only) tried to build a little tower in a city then called Babilu, now called Babylon. What happened? Well, something happened that we are not quite sure of, but the remains looked like the aftermath of some cosmic erectile dysfunction. In another city of a continent that is an accident of history (well, there was this fool who wanted to find India and sailed West when everyone went the other way. He met a few Neanderthals with bananas – he DID NOT find the plains of Punjab) people became vain again. And time and again like in the Biblical times, plagues rain down on New York. Sometimes it is a rather large dinosaur that stampedes across the town. Then come some gorillas. Then some icecaps melt up in the north, and it is flood. Sometimes huge rocks rain down from the sky. See, bible again and again. Then they built a tall tower. Wait, not one, but TWO. Whoever heard of such sacrilege. And see what happened.

So, on the shores of the Mediterranean, the largest city of the ancient world was built. It was also the site of an ancient wonder, a wonder that withstood the wrath of man and god for more than a thousand years. Close to the Lighthouse of Alexandria, scholars from around the world came and studied everything under the sun and the moon. Every book that passed by the city was taken to the library – a copy was returned back. Of course, it was not the time of copyright yet. Outside of the library the city flourished, enticing traders. With trade comes prosperity. With prosperity come the people looking for a shortcut – marauders and conquerors. Like most cities, Alexandria was conquered not once but many times. But finally it fell to the Muslim army led by Amr ibn al ‘Aas (okay, that is not the origin of IBN!). Message was sent to the Caliph as to what is to be done with the library and its books. Amr received the famous reply:

“If what is written there is in the Koran, they are superfluous. If what is written is not in the Koran, it is blasphemous.”

Amr used the books to heat bathwater for his soldiers. Viru in Sholay got his idea of the coin from this monologue – heads I win, tails you lose. Goebbels got his inspiration to burn books from this example.

Imperialism of every kind requires a Man Friday, a Vibhishan. When the British were just stretching their arms a little here and a little there, they sent a man of genius from their shores, to find a way to build a system that neither the wiles of a wronged goddess, nor the spite of a hounded prince could dismantle. Recognising that education was the very base of any enterprise, and that a trained workforce the very oxygen, he recommended a panacea for the problems that stared the British in the face. As the Law Member of the Governor General’s Council he published the Minute on Indian Education in 1935, and the most resounding logic of his thesis was captured in these words:

“It is impossible for us, with our limited means, to attempt to educate the body of the people. We must at present do our best to form a class who may be interpreters between us and the millions whom we govern; a class of persons, Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste, in opinions, in morals, and in intellect. To that class we may leave it to refine the vernacular dialects of the country, to enrich those dialects with terms of science borrowed from the Western nomenclature, and to render them by degrees fit vehicles for conveying knowledge to the great mass of the population.”

Today, Macaulay sits on the same bench as Kautilya and Machiavelli. These three people have the dubious distinction of being the most derided writers of all time. Derision rests chiefly because the deriders take little opportunity to read what they wrote. Derision is thus a cloak of ignorance, a excuse and safety valve of frustration. “Am I politic, am I subtle, am I Machiavel?”, asks a character in Machiavelli’s The Prince. Obtuse intellect should not be despised for its failure to appreciate intellectual sharpness. Today Macaulay’s children is another term of derision. A term used inevitably used by those who derive much of their intellectual genes from Macaulay and his contribution. To quote from Wikipedia:

“Macaulay’s Children is used to refer to people born of Indian ancestry who adopt Western culture as a lifestyle, or display attitudes influenced by colonisers. The term is usually used in a derogatory fashion, and the connotation is one of disloyalty to one’s country and one’s heritage.”

Macaulay’s Children are everywhere. This breed has flourished like spongy mushroom in a dead forest after a hot shower. They faced much danger. They were tortured as a Western curse, despised as apsanskriti, branded as fifth columnist by the baba and the mullah. But like dark loins of a sultry woman that is crucified from the pulpit but ravished in the heat of passion, Macaulay and his benevolence charmed the mob. Every constitutional and unconstitutional development during the times of the British is the result of the toil of Macaulay’s spawn. No Nehru and no Gandhi could ever read without Macaulay coming to Calcutta. But long before Nehru or Gandhi, this Vibhishan was a creature of derision, a spittoon of societal venom, the envy of waylaid in the march of the meritorious and the privileged. This Vibhishan worked from the inside under the shadow of a tyrant that looks down with pity. Day in and day out this Vibhishan works his humble way, a small silent uncomplaining cog in the vast wheel of the empire. This Vibhishan is the humble author a thousand systems that decades of frivolous independence have made into wasted vestiges. Cursed on both sides, this humble Vibhishan laid the first foundation of modern India. This humble Vibhishan was the first modern man that welcomed modern science into his home, that bid adieu to the centuries of ossified evil passed on even today as aspects of religion and culture. This humble Vibhishan was the first to celebrate toil, hardwork, thrift, planning, the value of education that looked beyond how to do Saraswati Vandana. This humble Vibhishan was the first to send its children to schools and colleges that laid the foundations of modern India. This Vibhishan, this Macaulay’s spawn is the Cabinet Secretary. The Prime Minister. Prannoy Roy and Barkha Dutt. This Vibhishan is you and I – I writing on the internet, you reading it there. Yes Premji saab, Murthy saab and Roy saab, you are his spawn.

“In Part Two of A Passage to India, E.M. Forster frequently refers to India as a “muddle.” This is not necessarily because he is racist, but because his logical Western mind cannot accept the extreme diversity of Indian religion, society, wildlife, and even architecture. Westerners, Forster explains, are always trying to categorize and label things, but India defies labelling. But the Indians quietly accept this diversity, not as a muddle but as a “mystery,” like the Catholic Trinity or Sacraments, things ordained by God that must be accepted but cannot be explained in terms of reason. Additionally, Indians rely more on emotion and intuition in their judgments of people and events, whereas the British are always trying to make their opinions scientific and logical, like McBryde with his pseudo-scientific theory about the lusting after of dark men for white women. These differences in outlook and psychology, Forster implies, are the ultimate differences between the British and the Indians. For British minds, shackled by reason and race, cannot understand the Indian psyche. [Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Passage_To_India]”

Now, I don’t particularly recall if Varma referred to Forster, but I do find a commonality between the indictment of both the authors. The Middle Class assumes something, probably from the Middle Path of Buddhism – a desire for personal salvation, a dereliction of responsibility towards the world. But whereas Buddha renounced the riches for nirvana, the Middle Class hogs the opposite way.

Do keep these views in mind when we see this:

“New Delhi: Manjunath Kalmani occasionally gives a confused smile. But his eyes never smile. Framed by the iron headrest of his hospital bed, a striped sheet draped over him, Manju remains immobile. Actually, he can’t move even if he wanted to — he was paralysed neck down following a car accident in the US on May 1, 2002.
The date is etched in his brain that’s ticking away — and registering every bizarre twist in his life story that took a dramatic turn on that early May morning. Not only was his promising life as a software engineer rudely interrupted at the age of 27, but he was reduced to a vegetable, living under the care of nurses in an alien land. And today he’s back home, but with no one to take care of him.
That’s the latest twist in his short but eventful life. On Wednesday an air ambulance ferried him from Northside Hospital, Atlanta, Georgia, to the Palam airport. And from there, he was taken and dumped at Safdarjung Hospital which put him on a ventilator. The crippling paralysis has made his respiratory system useless.
Manju was on his way home from Nashville that May Day when his car spun out of control and hit a tree, leaving him with a badly injured spine. Following a brain stroke, and an emergency operation, he was paralysed neck down.
So all he can do now is speak in a rasping whisper that’s not easy to comprehend. ‘‘I want to meet my mother. I haven’t met her for the past eight years. Please tell her I’m missing her if you get to speak to her,’’ he told TOI. Manju’s family is in Koppal, Karnataka. But hesitant to come to Delhi.
‘‘Come, and do what?’’ asked his brother Sudhakar when contacted over phone. The family can’t afford his treatment, and fears it might be forced to take him back home. ‘‘We can’t take care of Manju. He is on ventilator and we don’t have the facility to take care of him,’’ said Sudhakar, who works in a cooperative society that lends money to farmers and petty businessmen. Manju’s father is a farmer and mother Vidyawati a housewife.
There was a time when the same family thought Manju would change everything for them. He had got a job with an American new economy company, weather.com, for which he was developing software. But the economy turned choppy and weather.com laid off many. Manju, too, got the pink slip. As it turned out, life had greater trials in store. [Source: Times of India, 8th March 2008, New Delhi Edition]”

The moment I dragged my eyes to this piece of news I recalled Varma. Here was a dismal picture of a failed Great American Dream. An object of pity with a past that was promising. Perfect recipe for some emotional juxtaposition – here, see…my son could have been at his place. Such a pity. Why is god so cruel! Et tu bhagvan! And who but the champion of the Middle Class, The Times of India, would splash this tragedy for the consumption of the Middle Class. I knew at that instant that that single article would bring a world of change – to Manjunath. His mother would be reunited with her. Hundreds of cheques would keep coming. A thousand emails would jam the inbox of TOI. Call me a Nostradamus – check today’s paper. Well, here it is:

“New Delhi: Manju is no longer abandoned. Vidyavathi, the 54-year-old mother of the software techie who lies paralyzed neck down at Safdarjung Hospital after being sent back from the US, is coming here to meet her boy, braving her frail health to travel from Koppal in Karnataka. The impending reunion after eight years will be a result of TOI’s front page report on Manjunath Kalmani on Saturday.
In fact, a lot more has happened. There has been a groundswell of worldwide support for Manju who went to the US on a H-1B visa, worked as a software engineer with weather.com, got laid off, and was involved in a crippling accident in May 2002. For five years, US doctors and support groups helped keep the quadriplegic in hospital.
But after his visa expired, he was transported back on March 5 and put in Safdarjung Hospital. Abandoned until Friday — even by his family, which appears to not have the means to look after the cripple who needs a respirator to breathe and 24-hour nursing for his every other need. ‘‘Where will the money come from?’’ his brother Sudhakar had despaired.
Well, money will hopefully not be such a big problem, given the volume of responses that have poured in. Reader after reader, dozens and scores of them, have written in to TOI offering help. And not just financial help — some of them volunteered to be at his bedside and alleviate his loneliness, while others sent in inspiring stories of other quadriplegics who despite their similar and crushing disabilities have not only managed to stay alive, but be productive too.
Like Rajinder Johar who has been paralyzed neck down and bedridden for the last 20 years. Writing about him, Kumud Mohan has said that Johar, along with his supportive family, founded the Family of Disabled which has so far helped get employment for 275 people with disabilities. She has said that with his mental skills intact, and his abilities with the computer — Manju has been communicating with the world on his blog by using the sip-n-puff mouth control device — the paralyzed techie had a brighter future.
Then there are letters of heartfelt empathy. Biplab, an Indian based in Houston, has written to give his own story. ‘‘I can relate to him. I am also a techie and I had a bad car accident three months ago.’’ He, too, had spinal injury — ‘‘but nothing compared to Manju’s’’ — and after being hospitalised for two months is now in rehab. ‘‘It’s time for positive action,’’ said Biplab.
Yes, it will require a lot of positive action for Manju’s rehabilitation. Doctors that TOI spoke to say that his best bet is a sophisticated wheelchair, which will have to be imported, and on which he can be strapped. A portable ventilator would help him with mobility. They spoke of many other sophisticated gadgets with which Manju can operate a computer — like sip-n-puff — and possibly carry out small things of life like ringing a bell or switching off the light.

All of this will require money. Manju will also require a lot of compassion and understanding. Who will provide it? A number of readers have written in to express their appreciation for the US and its people who, despite having no legal requirement to help him, kept him for five long years. ‘‘Which other country would support an immigrant for five years?’’ asked Atul. ‘‘Now it is the turn of the Indian government and its people to help Manju,’’ said Naveen.
With this outpouring of concern, Manju’s life could be set for yet another dramatic turn. One in which the despairing techie is touched with some hope. Perhaps the touch he would be seeking the most would be that of his mother’s on his forehead.

Want to aid Manjunath?
Numerous readers have written in to offer help for Manjunath while urging The Times of India to set up a fund for the helpless techie where they can send in money. In response to their request, the TOI has set up a fund for Manju. Readers who wish to send in contributions may write out a cheque in favour of ‘Times Foundation’. They should also send in a covering letter with ‘Manjunath’ written in the subject line. We will ensure that every rupee is used in Manju’s best interest.”

Now, this is a thought experiment. How many cheques would have swarmed in had the victim been a Bihari unemployed who had come Delhi in search of a job and got hit by Blueline? In fact, the question does not arise as TOI would not have posted such a gloomy story on its frontpage. Migrant labour death is seventh page news on the sidelines. As story after story come in the papers and the television, I am more and more disturbed by this trend where only the Middle Class matters. The NDTV has started a Save the Tiger campaign. It has collected lacs of signatures. It is the very same people who would want a piece of the choicest real estate when NDTV and TOI gives a advert of a new housing colony. Housing colony that rise up in tiger territory.

Those days I was working as a copywriter in Bangalore, and the Mains results had just come out. Preparation for the interview of the Civil Services can be very rigourous, and there you can get a question out of anywhere, or nowhere. Preparing your own background is very essential – background means anything with which you are associated or anything from which you derive your identity. So, you are a Arya Samaji? You should know your Arya Samaj. Are you a Radhasoami? Better know how that is different from mainstream Sikhism. You are a civil engineer? Tell me, why did you join Wipro then when you could have joined L&T and done greater justice to your education. Achha, you are from Kolkata? They tell me that the story of Job Charnock as the founder of Kolkata is all bullshit, and that a prospering and flourishing town had already been in existence when Charnock, by accident, found it? Is it true? You better tell and satisy them properly. The old men and women sitting in Dholpur House can be very fincky. Heard of that recent topper from Orissa who had to give a live Odissi performance to satisfy the curious gazers in the interview room? [Well, this is an Urban legend]. I am just assuming that you get the idea…

That spring of last year, 2006, was a legend in self discovery for me. For the first time I tried to know about myself, my past, the meaning of my name, about my caste and its history, about my birthplace and its story under the sun, about the schools I have studied in, places I have stayed in, about Bengal, about being Bengali, about Bengali culture, about Rabindra Nath and Rabindra Sangeet, about developmental economics and where Amartya Sen fit in….long list that! Now, a student of literature, especially if he happens to come out of the portals of JU, has a stiff upper lip, a thin skin and a long nose. Even if for the purpose of throwing around names of books and authors, he must read them, or make a pretence of having read them. I remember the previous spring how I had read The City of Joy in anticipation of getting called to Delhi…[of course, I was never called - that year]. One year after and a somewhat more busy with a job of my own now, I wanted to read a few stuff on Kolkata. Now, keep in mind that teachers in JU are not just teachers. They are also enlightened citizens and most of them have their own pet areas, areas where they are acknowledged experts. Many of them have written their books and research papers on them. Kolkata also happens to be the expertise of someone in my department. But if you know the rules of existence in JU, you must be knowing that there are students and there are students. And yet, I needed to get some material on Kolkata. However, not much time back I had my tryst with my own identity about which you can read here…and once bitten twice shy, I did not want to venture into the same folly. As Bush is fond of saying, “fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can’t get fooled again“. So, I wrote a mail to a rather close relative of this gentleman, a lady who is herself an illustrious faculty member, and who, I had reason to believe, knew me by name at least. I knew from other people that this lady uses her email as other people have also written to her on this email. As you have second guessed me, I did not receive any reply…

Now, you must be wondering what is the big fuss about not getting a reply on email. After all, so many emails go unanswered – there are the questions of being net savvy or not, having proper access, server jam, etc. Probably, the mail got lost in transit, a phenomenon I have not heard of so far, but probably technically feasible. Probably, her spam filter deleted my mail before it was scanned by her eyes. Probably there was some mistake – her mouse accidently got clicked while it was hovering precariously over the ‘delete’ button. Probably her inbox was full [yeah, let’s assume that she had filled her 1 GB or 2 GB of inbox, which would mean she was very much net-savvy, or else she won’t be getting so much mail in the first place]. Well, as you can very well see in this paragraph there are too many probabilties we are relying on. I very much fancy a much simpler explanation. The mail reached her email. It did not get deleted accidently. She read it, all right. And she did not reply. Chances are that she was receiving a letter of this kind for the first time. In Jadavpur it is not everyday that a student gets called for the UPSC interview. And I would have expected that my email would find a rather welcome reception and some importance.

Now, as luck would have it there was not a single question on Kolkata. If there were, I am sure, I could handle it easily. I had done my own reading. I never bothered to collect much of knowledge or wisdom while I was in JU, but once when I did try to collect a little bit of it, while I was out of JU, I had this curious misadventure. As you may well expect, it left a bad taste in the mouth…

It is not a surprise why so few make it from this province. Why the IISWBM IAS coaching centre was wrapped up – no successful candidates. Bengal deserves this drought.

1. When you search for “jadavpur university alumni” on Google, you get this.
2. When you search for “alumni association of jadavpur university” on Google, you get this.
3. When you search for “how do i become a member of jadavpur university alumni association” on Google, you get this.

If you have got the drift of my endeavour, I am trying to learn how to become a member of the Alumni Association of Jadavpur University. I will assume the following:

1. Warts and all, alma mater is alma mater – it means “nourishing mother” in Latin, and mother, however lousy or great, is mother still.
2. And when you leave your nourishing mother, you want to be in touch with your nourishing mother.
3. Every institution should have some form of association for those that depart from its portals.
4. It is a shame and a great loss if it does not.

As inquisitive students of JU, I remember the thousands of trips we must have made around the central ground (god knows what is it called; if you are god, you can email me with the name here). And invariably the thousands of times we must have wondered what is this board, saying ‘Alumni Association’, doing here. Does anything happen inside? Who comes in? Who goes out? For years and years we saw some ghastly concrete structure being made right in front of the Ashirbaad canteen, a structure that encroached on the yard in front of the popular joint. For years and years we were told that the new building shall have accommodation for the Alumni Association. If and when it comes up. I think some building did finally come up in that yard. I vaguely remember having seen some board put up in one corner (or was it some other building that I am mistaking for). I don’t know if the Alumni Association has any building of its own. But regardless of any physical infrastructure, if the Alumni Association has any presence, it is felt through its absence – winds rush in to fill the vacuum. Thus, many who leave from JU enquire about it. I remember many of my friends asked this question. I am presuming on their behalf that most, if not all, would like to become a member of any Alumni Association. That they would like to have some reunions every few years, meet up with old fellows, check out who has got the most beautiful wife or girlfriend, and what not. If and when they can afford, they would also like to make some contribution towards the nourishing mother, monetary or otherwise. If only someone told them how to go about that.

If you check out the official website of the nourishing mother, you will find the following:

1. There are five pages under Alumni section, three of which are dead links (they don’t lead anywhere, as no pages have not been built. The webmaster, very thoughtfully – or is it thoughtlessly? – has added a Magazine page, but alas! there is no magazine!).
2. The Activities page is an essay in poverty, and jubiliates in the vacuum of unaccomplishment (my dictionary says no such word exists; well, I can certainly coin one).
3. The Membership page seems to be from Shakespeare. It must have got mislaid when the Bard was composing the character of Shylock. I cannot help but reproduce it here:

“The Alumni Association by its very constitution survives on its members. If membership dries up, the Alumni can not remain functional. For the last few years we have noticed a decline in membership. Since the Association does not belong to a select few but to all past, present as well as future students, the functioning of the same becomes troublesome. We sincerely hope that things will improve or we as students of Jadavpur University would lose a body that should ideally be a part of our makeup.

If you wish you can donate to Jadavpur University.”

So much for Alumni Associations. But then grouping up is a natural instinct. Whether it is through fora like Orkut or Batchmates.com, people team up. Resourceful (in both senses of the word) people from US of A, who are invariably from the Engineering Faculty, have made their own tinpot arrangements to cater to their own little interest groups [Bring up your Google and check out for yourself - there are more websites on JU communities than you can imagine]. Thus, instead of a community of all ex-JUians, we have clans spread over the wide wide world and the other www. I have also come across scores of other fora, on Orkut, on Blogspot, many of them being manned or wommaned by my heriocal successors in the institution. A year and a quarter back I floated a suggestion through a fellow JUian who has his way with women and children that the present JUDE fellows can make a database of present and past members of the Department and then fill up data on a continuing basis, which could later be turned into an online and self-updating database. Last heard, NASA was also planning to go to Mars.

(A ‘Stream of Consciousness’ poem)
References:

1. Macbeth
2. Rime of Ancient Mariner

   -25 April, 2003, Calcutta 63

17th February, 2003.