A Henchman of Hypocrisy

(Only an MIT Manipal student may get this. This writeup was hastily scribbled after one such class that left me questioning myself.)

Somewhere in the confines of an ongoing class lecture in AB-5, MIT, Manipal -

A cool surrounding turning colder each ensuing moment.The persistent growl of the air conditioner feeding my ears. A persistent chill feeding my lungs. Seems like silence buried in overnight rime. But here people are present. The whole section of students is present. Not only silence. It is with me at the moment considering the fact that I am its only refuge. For now. Minutes are droning like hours. Next few minutes, and this silence will leave my side. And my ever pulsating reticence breathing within me. For I will not be silent then. I will be speaking. Asking questions. Or more aptly put, trying to ask a basic question. That dear teacher, please advise as to how I should proceed if the urge to ask a question rams against the insides of my head. Jolting me. Unnerving me. For I don't know the specific question to ask. Having my doubts, like other students is one matter. But the inability to translate that into the relevancy of the topic is nettling at first. That too when you have to face six new subjects each semester.

Students will, at some point in time, begin raising their doubts. Here and there could be seen a raised hand. But the whole class will not be asking questions. The ideal students seem to have left for another planet. The ideal teachers are there for some students. But not for the majority of the students. Half an hour of regular lecture. On phase locked loops. Commendably endured. The next half an hour- an assignment test. Something to elaborate on these tests.

The marks distribution for theory papers is 50 (two sessionals of 20 marks each and an internal assignment for 10 marks) + 50 (end semester examinations) = 100 marks for each subject of any semester. The 10 marks of the internal assignment are pivotal in ensuring that the maximum students clear the subject, though exceptions, like everywhere, are there in an engineering batch also.

Earlier we used to submit written assignments. In almost all cases, the topper with the big heart (not all the toppers though!) solved them for the entire class and posted the solutions on their class groups on Facebook or Whats app. 10 marks were allotted for assignment submission on or before the due date. Rest of the entire class used to copy the solutions and get the undeserved marks. End result- No one solved the assignment on their own (except for a few) but got the 10 marks.

The teachers observed the fallacy of the system and decided to replace it with another. 

Now those very 10 marks got divided into 5 assignment tests of 2 marks each. Each assignment test has 4 to 5 questions and a random question is given to each student. The pattern started with surprise tests, but when the teachers saw the poor performance on the answer sheets, they took a decision and scheduled the tests on any day of a particular week. This meant that the test could be held on any day of the week. This also did not go down well with us, considering our habituated laziness which has crept inside us. Our minds which have become saturated with the system. 

So the day of the tests began to be announced beforehand, and the surprise element went missing. Still, the repeated 'brilliant' performances led to the practice (by some teachers) of asking the students to prepare any single question out of the 5 and write the solution down on the day of the test. End Result- Most of us tried studying for the tests but the 2-marks lure started mushrooming week by week. So I (for I can't talk about others) lost interest because of the pressures of studying daily, did not give some tests also, and was rightfully rewarded with shockingly low internals. Also, a test was no test if you knew already the question which was going to be asked.

Upon reading this article, my friends have stapled the badge of 'irresponsible' and 'lazy' upon me. They say that the education system is pretty good and solid. But I do not fit here. That I can only vent out my bottled up frustration on my blog and get a release. Nothing will change by my writing. And I just talk about change but do not have anything in my brain as to what and how that change will be brought. I do not have the guts to stand up for what I believe in and fight for it. I am just another cog in the wheel of high academic expectations and societal topper-idolizing. Just another crack in this castle of glass.

Maybe they are right. I can only rave and rant. I may have become frustrated but I don't know what to change in the education system of India. It is so easy to protest sometimes. All you have to do is to have a negative outlook on the things which you find difficult to do. Also, in things you might excel at but can not relish your successes. At the most, few will like or dislike my post. But nothing changes substantially.

Now the idealists, the studious, the elders and the teachers have an excellent opportunity to jeer at me. Or to serve the sermons of hard work and dedication. That I can never learn if I think of studies as a tiring job. That I should learn to love my subjects. That I should start giving myself 'a daily dosage of pain by studying the subjects that I find difficult', as one of my teachers in a coaching institute told me. True. They will always have this edge unless I start scoring highly in the coming papers. I have to win, not their image of mine. So I will study harder, get tensed every now and then and eventually become a good student. In my transformation into a top ranker lies the unabashed victory of the system. Because marks will decide my CGPA (Cumulative Grade Point Average). That will decide my first job eligibility. I can not lose this rat race. I have to be the 'rat' who carried the day. Or I have to keep running. I can not opt out. Just choosing to remain in the rat race might make a huge difference. I am still trying.

Today is yet another test based on that format. I am present here. I will take up my pen, fill the blank sheet with the knowledge gained freshly in the morning, and submit it to the teacher. Or I could try writing everything that is not even remotely linked with the question fluttering gaily on the still warm question paper (must be fresh out of the printer), which looks as if it has been anointed with arcane runes hellbent on seeking me out and torturing me. The others will follow the same procedure. Some will fill in the papers with the similar knowledge, freshly gleaned directly from the touch screens of their phones. Speaking, asking, copying, laughing, cheating, writing, swearing, listening. All at the same time. Then the teacher will use her loud voice to usher in the silence. A silence of caution and dread. And I will reach out to my throbbing self, letting my fingers crave the fineness of its formless shape hidden from my vision. The brutal beauty of it. I can almost touch it with my mind. Sense its presence. But not feel it. Only clutch at its invisible tendrils floating around me. Inside of me. Reclining comfortably within my dejected fist.

Have a peek inside. Introspect. And do not be surprised. Leave surprise alone. For you are a child inside. Untouched. Unscathed. Unblemished. And unfettered. You keep on doing the things branded 'right' by the crowd of persons milling about you. And doing those very things will keep you sane. Keep you untroubled. Where is the tension in your life? How could you ever chance upon its possibility? Life is expected to be smooth. Your parents are well off and you should consider yourself lucky that they are able to send you to one of the best colleges in the country. For it is a set path. You are moving on a steady track. Study well. Study hard to achieve an excellent CGPA. The road is so missing in surprises. No sudden turns. No depressions. No speed breakers to be taken care of. No sudden winding also. A straight lonesome but predictable road. Of pleasing everybody. Of securing the highest marks. Of talking nicely to persons whom you do not like at all. By filling the jar of parents' expectations. Of pretentiousness. No deviations. Like a linear plot in which the elements of both the axes seem to benefit from each other's growth.

There is so much to challenge. Feels like throwing the gauntlet to anything. But the 'thing' is not here. It was never here. Reminds me of a woman from a Murakami novel who so quietly disappears from the life of her husband and he comes to know later that the woman he had come to love was someone else. But he could explore her history only after her disappearance. And after you have had your fill, you won't retch it all out. They won't come out now. You won't get cleansed of them. They will always remain with you. And they have a flair for steadily reminding their presence. Which the good ones never do. You will cower for some time behind a veil of accidental discovery. 'Some time' will soon turn into 'long ago'. And now you have the guts to question the existing ruling 'rights' of the world you live in. Now you feel something very wrong in the 'right' path which you should have kept to in some earlier time. And do not be surprised. For now you are truly lost.