Of Winters and Early Morning Classes

The start of my second semester in Delhi University brought me face-to-face with a kind of joy I’d never known.

Picture this:

On a chilly college day, you wake up to your phone alarm ringing at an interval of every five minutes in the past half an hour, and while you do that, you feel the need to drag down the notification bar from the top of your phone’s homescreen and open Whatsapp to read this(while still rubbing your eyes) –

 No -8.40-  class-  today.

You rub your eyes harder, and realize you aren’t just dreaming.

That moment of limitless joy, and that sudden smile on your face and a blast of love for the CR for posting the holy news on your class WhatsApp group: that, my friend, is ecstasy as every DUite would know!

Nothing beats the satisfaction of an extra hour of sleep on a cold, cold Delhi winter morning. If you wake up a DUstudent  early morning and ask him for the one thing he needs in life, it’ll be sleep. Ask any Delhi youngster and he’ll tell you that sleep is the only thing they miss in their otherwise very busy and happening life.

But our college timetables beg to differ. There are classes beginning at 8.30 or 9.30 for most of us, which means having to get up atleast a couple of hours before class time.

How, in the name of heaven, are we expected to turn up on time for classes that begin at the time of the morning when we are in the deepest phase of our sleep? (yes, our body clocks have gone haywire, but hey, we are the internet generation!).

To add to our wintery woes, the fact that school children enjoy an extended winter break and snore away insultingly in their blankets while we mentally prepare ourselves to take a bath is a bit of a , well, cold comfort. To think of it, till as recently as last year, we were enjoying the elongated vacation too, and now we’re suddenly being thought of as winter-immune creatures who can brave even DillikiSardi to reach our temples of education. And most of us, in fact, do. Crying, cribbing, shivering, teeth chattering and still half-asleep, we do manage to reach college to attend that first lecture (of course, it isn’t cancelled everyday!).

…which is also the biggest paradox. While we may complain and fuss about the icy wind and early morning classes, somewhere deep down, we know we love attending them. We love the  self-gratifying feeling when we turn up on time for the day’s first lecture (if we ever do, that is), also the steaming hot cuppa that warms our hands and our spirits, the fog that makes the landscape hazy and the tiny drops that condense on the car’s glass windows – we loveall of that.

Just as the pullover we wear takes some time before it actually begins to feel warm, winter mornings in Delhi University threaten us initially and then settle in on us, very warmly indeed.

However, that takes nothing away from the fact that waking up and stepping out in the biting winter cold is a pain that remains. Why can’t teachers and students mutually agree to form a time table that suits them and us equally? Also, since all of our colleges have splendid green lawns that receive plenty of sunshine, how about shifting the classroom a bit closer to the environment?

After all, staying at home in a blanket is also a very important winter experience none of us should miss. 😉

 

Passion Vs. Procrastination

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“pro·cras·ti·nate

1.  pro·cras·ti·nat·ed, pro·cras·ti·nat·ing, pro·cras·ti·nates

v.intr.

To put off doing something, especially out of habitual carelessness or laziness.

v.tr.

To postpone or delay needlessly.”

Example and Usage: She was smart, but her constant procrastination led her to be late with almost every assignment.

 

The process of me getting to write this article wasn’t simple.

I procrastinated over it for hours (fine, days), thought of writing it at least 2345 times before finally sitting down to actually write it, and while opening my laptop (55 minutes ago)  I swore I’d go straight to writing this article.

What? Did I sound too ambitious?

Well, alright. I did a little Facebook, YouTube and Gmail. I also took 198 BuzzFeed Quizzes and IQ tests (with disappointing results) but then I’m finally here in my 2346^th attempt. Pheww.

Trust procrastination to keep you from doing things on time. But what can we possibly do? Our hands are tied and I believe our mothers from the other generation are to blame. They drank some procrastination potion that is transferable to children and doesn’t affect the mother. And now it flows in our blood.

Nothing in the world seems absolutely urgent anymore. Just about nothing. And this isn’t an exaggeration. Except perhaps catching a flight or a train. I can bet there’s nothing other than that can make you pull the fourth gear on the highway of life.  And when there isn’t procrastination, there’s schizophrenia. Madness and rush. Like the apocalypse is coming and everything MUST be done right here, right now: So when life’s running constantly on the fourth gear, there’s no concept of slowing down at all.

So let’s welcome it, officially:  the Procrastination Revolution.

[DISCLAIMER: Any resemblance to a most unhelpful self-help book in the words to follow is deeply regretted and purely unintentional.]

Remember the three Ps (Peace) of life taught in Moral Science classes?  Once upon a time, they used to be Patience, Persistence, Perseverance, and today they  stand challenged (uncontested) by a new P– procrastination, that leads to a lack of all these three old school Ps.

To which I’d like to add my own P. Passion. Passion I think is the only antidote to the productivity – killing, joblessness inducing enemy P. But how do you make it live in these times when procrastination, not passion, is in the driver’s seat?

[By the way, since I’m being completely honest, I got distracted by an online shopping site here. Shoes on sale and all that, so you know how it goes…]

Speaking of which, isn’t it strange how passions can get lost in the mundane of life? Day by day, the same old routine. For some reason, an urge to comply with a social standard that requires people to have a job for them to be seen as something more than a waste of space. It is so easy to lose sight of your true calling in life, just because the mundane is so horrifyingly engaging. There’s always a train to catch, a call to make, an assignment to complete… no, passion can’t be pursued in haste. One moment of emptiness, and we feel unsettled. Because we’ve been made to believe that “thinking” is a waste of time and “doing” is what counts. Wouldn’t you rather be a machine then, who “does” the “doing”, but since it can’t “think”, it always ends up being controlled by a man?  [Procrastination isn’t healthy, but thinking is!]

You must seek your passion, worship it like it’s the only God that exists for you, and most importantly, it ought not be treated like a task or a destination – because that will make it mundane as well. It isn’t a journey from point A to point B on a footbridge. It is a ferocious river with tumultuous waters and dark clouds hovering over … it can rain any time, you can drown, but what is drowning for passion? Bliss.

[And if you haven’t found your passion yet, you will, soon.]

If I seem to lack alacrity in my words today, it’s because of the same curse of procrastination that has prevented me to put to words my honest soul since so long.

The biggest tragic-comic curve to this situation, however, is the fact that routine assumes more importance than passion. Things that are only activities to fill up space in your days reign supreme and your passion lies like a heap of dirty laundry in a dark corner of the room that gets your attention only when you run out of clothes to wear.

Lena Ford had  written,

“Keep the home fires burning,

Till your hearts are yearning.”

Whatever your passion is, however unconventional or as most people will call it — crazy – go ahead and do it because no one else is going to do it for you, and as told by someone whose wisdom I greatly admire, regret is nothing but a waste of time.

You must have heard of Arunachalam Muruganatham , the mastermind inventor who researched and persevered relentlessly to fulfill his dream of providing safe and affordable sanitation to the millions of women in his hometown, and eventually worldwide. His research was of such an unconventional nature, that it led his wife and kids to shun him out of embarrassment, but that did nothing to deter him. His passion enabled him to not let his objective get lost in the lack of faith that people scorned him with, and he turned out to be a victor, a messiah and an inspiration who is applauded by millions. See the man talk about his struggle himself here : https://www.ted.com/talks/arunachalam_muruganantham_how_i_started_a_sanitary_napkin_revolution

Shunned, abhorred and often discouraged, but Arunachal pursued his dream.

So should you.

How poetic does the vista of a little fire blazing inside you sound? Exceedingly!
The fire of passion that burns within me,

I ignite my many dreams with it… [Use this for a poem later, though]

But this also is the point where procrastination starts and the fact that every fire dies if it is not fanned is forgotten. If it is not fed, it burns out. And so will yours, if you don’t feed it with sincerity, commitment and diligence. It’s your passion and your fire: if nothing more, it’s your shot at an illuminating lifetime. Will you just let it blow out?

Warming Up to Newness

2013 passed me by like a strong wind. The kind of wind that ruffles up your hair, flies your muffler to your face, blows up dust and twigs in your eyes and yet for the sudden blast of activity it stirs up, it is a happy adventure. Standing  in the whirlwind of shreds of paper, rotten leaves, small stones, and other things found on dusty pavements, we all enjoy a brief superhero moment trying to battle the windy force of nature that somehow, always blows against our direction.

When the very same gale decides to blow over life, what we get is the year 2k13. Liberty has been taken to assume everyone had the same whirlwind of a year that I did, but not with complete lack of reason. No year is entirely good or bad. When no day is entirely good or bad,  365 grey days can only make a dark grey, at best.

What I still haven’t been able to figure out, is whether I was the eye of the storm, or was it I who was the storm this year. I suppose different people might have different responses to that, while I hang in the sphere of ambiguity and let the question remain suspended : of course, till the zephyr returns and titillates it again.

Inspite of all the dust that went into my eyes, this year gave me a lot to write about. This blog is here because words are waiting to flow from my fingers to my keyboard, and although this wasn’t the plan, I resolved somewhere in the process of writing this, that justice has to be served to the year that gave me things to think about: it needs to be given words.

And hence, I need to warm up – to starting afresh by writing about the year that was, and in equal measure- the year that will be.

 As Alain de Botton sums it up for me : “There is an urge to say I was here, I saw this and it mattered to me.”

Breathe a little, live a little.

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